SO! Because Tumblr decided to throw a hissy fit over my original table of contents getting too big, I have to break this into multiple ones now. -_-;
Forward
What follows is 100% non-canonical but anyone who plays the games should realize that pretty quickly.
This is the stories in my own personal headcannon for my characters in the online RPG World of Warcraft. I claim no ownership of the Warcraft franchise or any of the elements therein and this should be considered a work of fanfiction and naught besides. All elements in these stories, save for my characters themselves, are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment.
I’ve been a WoW player since just before the launch of Burning Crusade, but I’ve been playing Warcraft games since the very first Warcraft Orcs and Humans on the PC back in the 1990s. Its safe to say that I consider Azeroth a second home at this point, for as goofy as some parts of the story can become its still a world I can’t imagine living without anymore.
Because of that my characters in the game have taken on a sort of life of their own for me, some of them have been around for years themselves, and thus I decided to actually give them some stories beyond just ‘today I killed fifteen kobolds and sold their ears for a tuppence apiece.’
Also, I tend to re-read this a lot and edit when I catch something I goofed up or something that bugs me. Don't be shocked if it really isn't the same the second time you read it.
Characters
This section is, of course, the characters of the story. They're grouped into four sections on the page:
The members of the Alliance Adventurer group, Avalon.
The members of the Horde Mercenary Company, Savage United
The independent Protagonists
The Antagonists, grouped by their own allegiances.
The Story
As follows, the story’s chapters are listed in chronological order starting with The Witch of the Blackwald. Simply start there and continue on from that point.
Early Story (Pre-WoW era to the end of Battle for Azeroth)
This part is piecemeal and mostly just short stories when I was hitting the road with everything, thus I'm condensing it all into a "Book 1" of sorts.
Shadowlands
This was where I started seriously writing the story. It all began as a way to kill time during the content droughts that Shadowlands had while the A Better ABK movement and the early days of the Covid pandemic were going and devs were either too busy fighting for better working conditions or trying not to die from Covid to make content for WoW. (That being said, such droughts were totally understandable in all that chaos and with both hitting at once I can hardly blame them. Glad to hear they're unionized and doing better now.)
Dragonflight
Dragonflight was where the fanfiction really went wild. I had a ton of ideas, the characters were established, and I dove in hard. This was the first section to really get big (it was the biggest but the next section has eclipsed it,) and contains the prologue section known as "Three Years of Peace" marking the cannon three year time gap between the end of Shadowlands and the start of Dragonflight, as well as the story of Dragonflight.
The War Within
The Worldsoul Saga has kicked my imagination into overdrive, and I've got lots of plans. This one is currently a work in progress at time of writing, but I hope you all enjoy what I've come up with for it... at least I assume people are reading this. Tumblr doesn't show me pageviews.
It starts with "The Time Between" which is a short series focusing on the heroes teaming up with Chromie of the Bronze Dragonflight, then leads into the story of The War Within proper.
The Appendix
This is where I put just random tidbits of lore, stuff about the setting that isn't in the actual World of Warcraft game, and other such things I make for giggles.
The Glittering Prize, Three Weeks After Gallywix’s Defeat, Early Morning
Shalandrae was alone in the galley, the night elf having been awake until dawn. She was preparing for bed, having a snack before turning in. While not all the kal’dorei were nocturnal as their names suggested anymore, having acclimated to living among the other races of the Alliance who preferred to get things done in the daytime by and large, old habits were hard to break. For Shalandrae, who had been alive since the days just before the Sundering, these habits were downright ancient.
She sat at the table, eating a bit of spiralhorn haunch that she had grilled on the stove. Nothing fancy, just a light snack, when she heard hoofbeats. However, these weren’t the loud clomping steps of Nitika, but smaller ones… and there was only one other of their number who had hooves instead of feet.
“Mornin’ Aziguni.” she said as the draenei woman walked into the galley, the botanist an early riser normally. It made her relationship with Shalandrae a bit awkward sometimes, given how different their sleeping patterns could get, but they managed.
“Good morning Shalandrae. Did anything of import happen last night?” smiled the alien woman, taking a seat across from her paramour as she took one of the fruits that Zhan-min and Edwood had gathered, biting into it.
“Eh, not really. Sekhi and Jeemjazo left early though. She ran into Leza in Dornogal yesterday, apparently her sister joined the Explorer’s League. The three of them are heading back to Orgrimmar to visit their families while we’re all stuck waiting for the ethereals to make a move.” nodded the night elf in response.
Aziguni smiled wistfully, “Sounds lovely. I wish I could visit Malgum but… he seems to be avoiding me. He hasn’t answered any of my letters…” she sighed.
Shalandrae shrugged, “You showed me the one he left for you. Looks like he’s worried about his demonic nature becoming a threat. Honestly, after what we saw with the whole felfury thing, it’s a legitimate worry. If he lost control of that…” she frowned.
Aziguni shook her head, “I know, but he is still my brother! I do not want to just cut ties with him because he might do something!” she frowned, then glanced across the table.
Normally Shalandrae drank water or moonberry wine with her meals… but… instead of a cup she had a metal can sitting next to her plate.
Aziguni’s eyebrows went so high they threatened to vanish off her face entirely. “… Shalandrae… are you drinking a kaja-cola?!” she gasped, a bemused expression appearing on her face.
The night elf grimaced and quickly snatched the can, hiding it under the table as her cheeks turned dark purple. “H-hey! So what if I am? I mean, yeah goblins make some insane stuff but… well there’s a lot of flavors and it turns out the oyster one is really good!” she protested.
Aziguni stared, her mouth falling open in shock, “You’re drinking oyster kaja-cola?!” she laughed.
“Don’t give me that look.” snapped the druidess, glancing away, “I’ve seen what draenei like to eat…” she sniffed.
Aziguni smirked, “I’ll have you know purified ravager poison glands were considered a delicacy on Argus…” she replied.
The druid glanced at her, then grumbled, “Just don’t tell Grimo I’m the one who’s been taking them from his stash… he’ll never shut up about it.”
Orgrimmar, the Valley of Honor, the Vulpera Encampment.
Outside of their wagon, at a small campfire, were several vulpera.
Atu was working on breakfast, grilling several hunks of boar meat on skewers over an open flame, as his wife Risala worked on sewing a new top for herself out of a fine piece of violet silk they’d bought off a trader from Suramar.
Nearby Zato sat on a log as he watched his sister Eeda practicing. She had been working with the mistweaver instructor, Jie Zhong Freshpetal, but mastering such arts wasn’t something one did overnight even if they found they had an affinity for them.
Jie Zhong said that the reason she was able to heal Zato even as he was at the brink of death was likely down to them being twin siblings. Having been born together and spending time in their mother’s womb together they, in a metaphysical sense, shared the same chi.
It would likely explain why Eeda passed out after healing him. Beyond just the stress and psychological exhaustion of their encounter with the mountain lion, she had used her own chi just as much as the chi of the world around her to restore him.
Serpent monks focused much less on combat than Tiger or Ox monks, their arts more meditative and required her to practice movements that would allow her to more easily manipulate chi energies.
For a twelve-year-old vulpera kit, that wasn’t easy…
Eeda took a slow breath and planted her foot down, extending one arm infront of her as she raised the other behind her, bending the knee on her other leg to crouch slightly as she slowly flexed her fingers… her eyes barely open as she focused on feeling out with her mind. She could feel the chi around her now, ever since that day it was like being able to feel a constant warming breeze… but doing anything with it? That was the trick…
After several moments she sighed and slumped her arms, hanging her head as Onsa glided over and curled around her shoulders. Onsa was the name they had decided on for Eeda’s cloud serpent companion, the small creature having been inseparable from her ever since she had become a mistweaver.
“I think I saw some green fog around your fingertips…” grinned Zato in an encouraging way.
“Yeaaaaaaah, but that won’t even heal a bug bite!” she huffed, straightening up, “Sekhi has her yippin’ drum, all she’s gotta do is tap it and suddenly we get rain! How am I supposed ta do this?!” she yipped loudly, throwing up her arms.
There was a giggle, then another voice said, “Well, I didn’t figure out th’ drum trick until I was in th’ Shadowlands, if that helps.”
The twins looked up and wagged excitedly as a trio of vulpera approached the campfire. Sekhi smiled at her twin siblings, the vulpera shamaness wearing her usual outfit of a headscarf, wrap top, and colorful skirt.
Next to her was Leza, the mage no longer an apprentice. Nelen had decided that, since she had been working with Brann and the rest of the Explorers for several weeks now, that she was officially a novice mage by the old standards. She was free to begin exploring the arcane on her own, though he would always be willing to offer guidance when needed. She wore a loose comfortable top, trousers, and her glasses and spelled bracers that were given to her back in Valdrakken. She hardly used the spell in the bracers anymore though, having learned much about controlling her powers.
Finally, there was Jeemjazo, the red-furred vulpera man dressed in the garb of a sailor as he always did. Peering over his shoulder from the eggshell litter was his companion Murgly Jim, the murloc’s large yellow eyes blinking in the early morning light.
“Hey sis!” both the twins said together as they waved in greeting, their parents looking up and smiling at the sight of them.
“Sekhi, Leza! Welcome home.” smiled their father, “Gimme a minute here and I’ll set up some skewers for you guys…” he nodded, pulling a small barrel of salted pork over and getting out some fresh skewer sticks.
“How’s everything in Khaz Algar?” asked Risala, “We’ve heard some rumors from the goblins that something big happened…” she commented, frowning in a worried way.
Sekhi saw that and shook her head, “Its fine ma! Its all done there now. We beat up Gallywix ‘n th’ Undermine is safe…” she paused, cocking her head, “… safe-er now.” she corrected. It was still a goblin city after all. Safe wasn’t really the right word.
The three vulpera sat down at the campfire as Zato and Leza jogged off to find Neidhari, Jeemjazo’s mother, to let her know her son was visiting.
Risala nodded, then went back to her stitching. “Mm… well… I still worry Sekhi. That Dissonantia woman may be dead, but she’s not the only troublemaker out there.” nodded the older vulpera.
The shamaness shrugged, “Eh, I mean… yeah we’re all worried ‘bout yippin’ Xal’atath, ‘n then there’s th’ other ones too…” she muttered.
Risala’s head popped back up as she raised an eyebrow, “… what other ones?” she asked in a very pointed way.
Sekhi winced as Leza rolled her eyes at her older sister. As powerful a shaman as Sekhi had become, she was still pretty naïve and bad at social interactions. She had walked right into that.
“Er… um… w-well there’s this nutty blood elf woman who wants to kill Sam ‘cause they’re sisters but not good ones like me ‘n Leza ‘n Eeda… ‘n these yippin’ jerks that work for Xal’atath who we keep runnin’ inta… ‘n the nasty chro… chron… chro…” she tried.
“… chronomancer.” Interjected Leza.
“That one.” nodded Sekhi, “Jerk who screws with time.” she clarified at her mother’s confused expression. Leza knew her terminology by heart, but she was the only one in her family who did.
“I see… any others?” asked Risala, leaning in.
Sekhi hesitated, then shrugged, “Um… I wasn’t there, but th’ guys ran inta one of Dissonantia’s demons in th’ Undermine. He ran away tho…”
Risala shook her head, “I kind of wish I hadn’t asked now…” she muttered as Atu glanced at her and gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Its okay Risala. Its not like Sekhi is a helpless kit anymore. She and the rest of Savage United can handle those threats. I’m sure of it.” he nodded.
“Mm… I’m still going to worry Atu… I mean they only… have to… geeeeeeeeeet… luuuuuuuuuucky… ooooooooooon-…” she started, but as she spoke her voice suddenly seemed to go slower and slower.
Sekhi looked at her in confusion, then glanced around and yipped in surprise. Jeemjazo and Leza were frozen in place, Jeemjazo eyeing the skewers with a hungry expression and licking his muzzle as Leza smirked at Sekhi, bemused that she was the one on the hot seat this time. Risala was frozen in the act of pulling her needle up as she closed a fresh stitch on her new top, and Atu was holding a skewer ready to be placed over the fire, unmoving all of them.
Sekhi jumped to her feet, her ears perked up as her head snapped around. “Oh yip… oh yip…” she whimpered, pulling out her flute as she saw it wasn’t just her family. Everyone in the Valley of Honor was frozen in place as if someone had called time out on all of Orgrimmar!
Then, she realized, someone had done just that.
She heard it before anything else, her ears sticking straight up. A strange sort of sound, a discordance that grated right on her nerves. She dove out of the way as a blast of entropy shot just past where her head had been moments before, missing Leza’s ears by inches!
Striding into view, the dragon forged sword the Final Moment unsheathed and in his hand as his free hand held another ball of compressed time ready, was Nyloc Athel. “Attacking you in Orgrimmar is a risk… but you damned people are so rarely alone!” he snarled.
Sekhi pulled her flute from her pouch and glared at him, “Stay away from my yippin’ family!” she snarled, her tail thrashing behind her as she held the instrument ready.
“Oh, I don’t care one bit for them. You are my target. If I must pick you off one at a time then so be it.” he snapped, launching another spell as Sekhi dove to the side, a large bolder near her reduced to powder in an instant as she stood, took a breath, and blew a piping melody on her flute. Above Nyloc the sky crackled and a bolt of lightning shot towards him… then froze just above his head.
Sekhi yipped in shock as the chronomancer walked towards her, and a second later the bolt connected with the ground with a loud thunderclap, missing him completely! “Chronomancer young lady, I can control time. When I have a single opponent stopping their spells is child’s play.” he chuckled as Sekhi blew on her flute again and another bolt arced down, only to once more freeze in place as Nyloc stopped time around it, stepping out of range before letting it go once more.
Sekhi whimpered, stepping back as the shal’dorei man grinned at her, raising his sword.
“E-even if ya do this, my friends’ll find out ‘n they’ll come after ya!” she yipped, stepping away from the caravan, wanting to make sure that whatever Nyloc did her family didn’t get caught in the crossfire.
“They can try, but none of them can travel time. In the infinite timelines I reign supreme.” he sneered. “They will not find me until I decide, and then they will fall one by one…”
Then, from behind them, a voice spoke up.
“Who… who is that Sekhi?” came a young pandaren’s voice.
Nyloc froze, his eyes going wide as he spun around.
Standing there was Xhu Pai Bao, the pandaren’s expression one of shock. “I was training with Master Hye-Soo when suddenly everyone around me stopped moving… and then I heard thunder down here… and… this… who is this man?” she asked, though she had a suspicion. Time was stopped, and he was one of the Nightborne…
“Xhu! This is him! Nyloc! He’s th’ one who did th’ paradox-thing!” the vulpera called back.
“How are you still moving?” he asked, barely a whisper, his expression confused. He knew he wove the spell correctly. It had taken days to set up but since he could travel time he knew in advance when Sekhi would arrive and had gone back to prepare it. Right now, all of Orgrimmar should be frozen in time!
Xhu Pai breathed in, gritting her teeth as she drew her sword and started forward. “You’re the reason I’m here! Everything that happened to me IS YOUR FAULT!” she roared, holding her sword ready as she began to charge!
Nyloc grimaced and raised his hands, channeling a sphere of entropy the size of a cannonball between them! “Stay back woman! This does not concern you!” he insisted!
The pandaren barely registered it, her feet a blur. This was it! This was her chance! Nyloc was here and he had the object Chromie needed! All she had to do was defeat him and she could go home! It’d all be over!
“XHU! LOOK OUT!” screamed Sekhi as Nyloc slammed his arms forward and a blast of pure nothingness erupted from his hands. The pandaren woman’s eyes went wide as she stumbled, but it was too fast to dodge! She cried out and threw her arms up… and then there was a loud cracking sound and she felt as if someone had just shaken her entire body… and when she opened her eyes the beam was passing right through her but not harming her at all!
Nyloc’s jaw fell open as he held the Final Moment ready, the chronomancer taking a step back. “Impossible!” he shouted.
Xhu looked around, felt her middle in confusion, but the beam hadn’t even touched her. Somehow, Nyloc’s magic had no effect on her whatsoever! (Though it had made a mess of the blacksmith’s shop behind her but, happily, had missed anyone else.)
Xhu looked up at him, then grinned, “It didn’t work… whatever you did, I DIDN’T EVEN FEEL IT!” she snarled, raising her weapon. Hye-soo said that anger was like a forge, hardening her blade… and right now that forge was blistering hot! She glared at him, then began to run towards him again as Nyloc stepped backwards, his mind racing.
He was a chronomancer, the only magic he could use was time based, but that blast was one of his most powerful evocations! It should have left nothing but a fossilized pandaren skeleton behind! “What ARE you?!” he demanded as she drew within striking range… then he slammed his hand into his chest and in a blur of motion he vanished, her sword slicing through empty air.
Nyloc had sped his own time up, the chronomancer moving behind her too fast to be seen as he slashed with the Final Moment, but Xhu Pai had been training extensively with Hye-soo. Without even thinking her arm shot behind her and dragon-forged metal met pandaren steel with a loud clang as she ducked away and rolled, coming to her feet and holding her sword ready.
Behind her, Sekhi’s mind raced. She wanted to help, but Nyloc could freeze any lightning she called in time… “What do I yippin’ doooooo…” she whined, thinking frantically. What would her friends do if they were here?!
Then she paused, her eyes snapping open as she heard the sound of a flute on the wind and two people popped into her mind. Jaie, when she used Zhan-min’s drink to supercharge herself, and Galdia with her new companion Zayera the stormrook.
“Xhu! Hold your sword up!” she shouted as she put the flute to her muzzle again.
Xhu glanced back at her, then did what she said as Nyloc glared, preparing to shoot forward again… but Sekhi played a different song this time, and with a loud crackle a bolt of lighting shot towards Nyloc. He stopped and gestured and the bolt froze… then he heard a crash and looked out to see a second bolt of lighting striking Xhu Pai’s blade!
Xhu’s body shook at the impact as the lightning wrapped itself around her sword, a sensation akin to an adrenaline rush shooting through her body as her head snapped up, and lightning sparked in her eyes.
Nyloc growled and invoked his power again, speeding his own time up to move at superhuman speeds once more as he shot forward… and so did Xhu Pai! She blasted forward in a burst of lightning, her sword crackling with electricity as the surprised chronomancer was barely able to parry her blow!
She shot past him in a streak of energy, hitting the half-crumbled wall of the blacksmith’s shop feet first and jumping back off it to shoot towards him again, letting out a loud wordless cry of fury and frustration as she did so.
He was fast, but now so was she, and whats more his magic didn’t work on her! He could only rely on his sword, and she could already tell she was the better fighter! He relied on his magic so much that he could barely use a weapon at all!
She drew close, her sword raised. Just one slice. One quick strike. That was all she would need! Take his head, take the Perfect Chance, and GO HOME! BACK TO HER ISLAND! BACK TO HER FAMILY AND HER JAIE AND HOLD HER TIGHT AND NEVER LET GO AGAIN AND ALL IT WOULD TAKE IS ONE BLOW TO SEVER HIS HEAD AND END THIS!
Nyloc however had other ideas. He too realized she was more skilled with a sword than he could hope to be, and the chronomancer thrust one hand downwards. Sand swirled around his feet, and Xhu Pai remembered the swirling sands that had brought her to Khaz Algar and this timeline…
“NO!” she shouted, shooting towards him as fast as a bolt of lightning… and yet STILL TOO SLOW! She just had to close the distance, to make the cut, yet somehow, she wasn’t fast enough! Just as she drew within reach he fell away into the portal he opened at his feet, disappearing into the timeways of Azeroth!
“NO! DAMMIT NO! I WAS SO CLOSE!” shouted Xhu Pai as she landed, her sword slamming into the dirt where he’d been before she threw it to the side and fell to her knees, clawing at the spot as if she could dig her way to him, her eyes tearing up.
“WHAT TH’ YIP IS GOING ON?!” shouted a vulpera’s voice as Jeemjazo leapt to his feet, Murgly Jim looking around in confusion as his huge yellow eyes swiveled left and right.
“I-I dunno! I feel magic, lots of it! Where’d Sekhi go?!” gasped Leza as Atu and Risala looked up to see their eldest daughter suddenly halfway across the Valley of Honor running towards them.
“Sekhi? What happened? Whats wrong with Xhu?” asked Atu as he ducked out from behind the bonfire and jogged towards them.
“Nyloc! The time guy! He was here!” she replied, “He froze everythin’ ‘n tried ta get me but Xhu showed up ‘n his magic couldn’t hurt her ‘n she fought him but he ran away!” she stammered back, her eyes wide.
Xhu Pai was on her knees, slamming her fist into the ground where he’d vanished, tears dripping onto the dirt. So close. He was right there. All she had to do was take him down… and she’d failed! She’d failed and now she might not get another chance!
“I was so… close…” she moaned, her hands gripping her hair as, around them, the various people in Orgrimmar looked at her in confusion and shock.
Risala saw this and walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Xhu, lets go in the wagon please…” she whispered, giving her arm a tug as the pandaren numbly stood up, picking her sword up and sheathing it as she stumbled off towards the wagon, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed openly, too overcome by emotion to stop herself.
Sekhi whined, hearing Xhu’s song. It was a furious mixture of rage and despair, anger at Nyloc for stranding her outside her own time, despair at having had her chance and lost it.
“Um… I gotta let Nelen ‘n Grimo know what just happened guys…” she muttered, taking out her gemstone and walking off behind the wagons for some privacy as, from inside her own wagon, came the sounds of crying.
The Next Day, the Glittering Prize
Xhu Pai stood there, her sword sheathed on her back, in a magic circle drawn by Nelen as the worgen magus stood before her, gesturing with one hand glowing with a violet light as he examined her using his magic. Next to him was Laurelgosa, already in her dracthyr form, doing likewise as motes of sand swirled around her claws.
She was uncomfortable being there again, especially since Jaie was nearby. Not her Jaie, but… she pushed that thought out of her mind as best she could, but she still felt raw after the previous day.
Finally they finished and Nelen and Laurelgosa had a hushed conversation.
“… passed right through her… almost as if she didn’t exist, she said…” murmured Nelen.
The dracthyr nodded, “… quite… signature is totally wrecked… could barely detect it…”
Then a loud cough came from the side of the ship and they both looked up. Grimo was leaning against the railing, smoking a cigar. “Well? You two got somethin’ you wanna share with the rest of th’ class?” he grunted meaningfully.
Nelen and Laurelgosa looked at each other, then Nelen nodded to her and murmured, “You are the expert…”
Laurelgosa nodded back, then stepped forward, “We have a theory… but, when Chromie examined you and the other three of our time-stranded companions she commented that your personal temporal signatures, your ‘timelines,’ were damaged by the paradox that pulled you here…”
Xhu Pai winced, remembering that day, but managed to keep her composure, “… yes?” she tried.
Laurelgosa put her fingertips together, looking away for a moment as if about to say something extremely awkward. “… Xhu Pai, I am a Chronowarden. I am able to manipulate time in the same manner than Chromie herself is, albeit on a smaller scale… and I can sense temporal signatures. Your’s is… almost nonexistent. The paradox all but erased it…” she nodded.
“Chronomancy relies on using a person’s temporal signature as a target, much like how you would aim your sword at a foe’s vital areas.” continued the Dracthyr, “But as far as Nyloc’s magic is concerned… your ‘vital areas’ do not exist. As far as his spells can tell, there is no Xhu Pai Bao to affect. The same affliction that prevented Chromie from taking you home has rendered you totally immune to chronomancy in all its forms… as far as I can tell.”
Xhu Pai looked down at her hands, then chuckled awkwardly, “… so, what keeps me trapped here also makes me invincible to him… that… that’s just… what the fel…” she shuddered.
Nelen winced, “It must be a lot to take in, but yes… you and, theoretically Yvain, Loren, and Zul’zanza cannot be affected by any of Nyloc’s spells. Thus why when he froze time for Orgrimmar you remained aware and able to move around despite nobody else but Sekhi being able to.” he nodded.
Xhu Pai sighed, shaking her head and letting out a soft string of pandaren curse words, then she looked up at them. “I’m… going to go back to Orgrimmar. Sorry but, I need some time to process all this.” she nodded.
Nelen nodded back. “I understand completely. If there’s anything we can do just let Atu and Risala know and they’ll get word to us.” he offered.
Xhu Pai looked him dead in the eye, “Can you pull Nyloc back here so I can run him through?” she asked, her voice as blunt as a hammer.
Nelen chuckled awkwardly, “Er… n-no… but we could perhaps…” he began, but Xhu Pai cut him off.
“Then there’s nothing you can do for me.” she nodded firmly, then she turned and walked down off the ship and along the path to Dornogal.
Nelen watched her go, then glanced at Laurelgosa. “That probably went about as well as it could have.” he muttered.
The dracthyr nodded, “Indeed Nelen. I know something of how she feels, being frozen in stasis for as long as I was.”
Xhu Pai continued on the path for a bit, then diverged from it. She didn’t go back to Orgrimmar yet. Instead her feet carried her southwards across the Isle of Dorn towards a forest along the southern coast… Boskroot Basin.
She got into the woods and looked around, and then she spotted them. Squatting around the corpse of a spiralhorn, spreading their spores onto it, were three fungarians.
“I need to be faster…” she whispered, gripping the hilt of her sword. “I need to be better…” she growled, drawing it from its sheathe as the mushroom men spotted her and let out a battle cry, running towards her with their mold-spears at the ready.
Xhu Pai roared and unsheathed her blade in a flash of steel, spinning and bringing it around with both hands… and a moment later two of the fungarians fell to the forest floor in four pieces total as the third turned and ran screaming into the woods.
Xhu Pai growled, then raced after it, the forge of her anger burning like the sun itself now… and the basin of mercy all but forgotten. Nyloc had escaped because she couldn’t stop him in time. Now he knew she was immune to his powers, even if he didn’t know why she was and, if he returned, he may well flee on sight of her rather than risk fighting someone who could resist his entropic magic.
She had missed this chance and the fear, the sheer mind-numbing terror that she might never get a second chance, sharpened her blade to a razor’s edge.
Several hours later, her clothes splattered with juices and spores, she stumbled into Dornogal and, moving like a sleepwalker, she passed through the portal to Orgrimmar and headed back to the vulpera encampment before slumping down next to the campfire and immediately passing out into a deep dreamless sleep.
… but there were a lot less fungarians to trouble Boskroot Basin until their spores sprouted several weeks later.
Elsewhere…
Granthox the Annihilan, a former general of the Burning Legion, roared in fury as the axe slammed home into his left foreleg, sending him to his knees as, to his right a loud echoing laugh came as a salvo of felfire missiles blasted into his side.
He cried out in pain, trying to right himself, but as he did another voice snarled out. “DEMON! I BIND YOU!”
Chains of felfire erupted from the floor around him and snaked across his body, slamming him down into the ground. “NO! I AM ANNIHILAN! I AM NEVER BOUND!” he shouted, his voice making the chamber shake around him.
“I dunno ‘boss,’ you look pretty bound to me.” laughed Gremori as she stepped forward. She had several vicious wounds on her body, but she looked eager for more combat despite them.
Filling the room were several other demons. Vezraz and Az’arad stood nearby, their weapons readied as Nirihzyh smirked, holding a ball of felfire in each hand. Next to her was Cenoon, his whip snapping as he flicked his wrist.
Striding towards the demon was Cassidy Cogwheel… and next to her was an observer demon with an imp riding ontop of it.
“Well? Do I need to insist on it Granthox?” growled Cassidy.
“WRETCHED MORTAL! I WILL CRUSH YOUR SKULL IN MY BARE HANDS! I WILL CARVE OUT YOUR HEART AND FEAST UPON IT! I WILL-…” spat the pit lord, clawing at the ground as it tried to right itself.
“DEMON, I BIND YOU!” spat Cassidy as the chains tightened, slamming him into the ground again. “I BIND YOU! I CONSTRAIN YOU! BY MY WILL, I DOMINATE YOU!” she shouted back at him as Granthox roared in pain and fury, the chains biting into him body and soul.
“NNNNGHHH! YOU… YOU… FINE! ENOUGH! You shall have your damned pact!” he growled, cutting his hand with his glave, then holding it out to her.
“There we are. See how much easier it is when you just do what you’re supposed to?” she smirked, cutting her own palm, then pressing it into his own even as his massive hand engulfed hers… though she kept her free hand ready to channel the chains into him again, and made sure to hold it so he could see it and knew what she was doing.
The annihilan glared at her, then released her hand once their blood had mingled enough to seal their pact.
“Oh, don’t give me the death glare Granthox… just save it for when I call you and you’ll have plenty of targets for it.” chuckled the goblin. “Right, we’re done here, let’s go.” she nodded to the others.
Vezraz saluted her and vanished in a burst of felfire back to his arena as Nirihzyh blew them all a kiss and disappeared as well, the goblin and her entourage heading back along the path to a portal out of the annihilan’s citadel, the chains staying in place until they left.
“Well, that was exciting. Good thing we had mother and Vezraz to help though…” commented Cenoon.
Cassidy nodded as they passed through to the Twisting Nether, “Mmm, yep. For now, we’ve got to get busy hunting down a good location for a base. The Undermine is out, it’s too hot right now… but there’s plenty of good hidey-holes on Azeroth for us to use until we find somewhere suitable in the nether… and then…” she grinned widely.
Gremori smirked, flexing her fingers as her fel-infused knuckle dusters appeared on her hands as Az’arad grinned widely, gripping the haft of his axe tightly.
“Quite. Then we’ll have business to do with a certain group of adventurers…” chuckled Cenoon.
“Oh yes… I have plans for them…” nodded Cassidy as Gremori backhanded the empty air and a crack appeared, then burst open into a fel portal back to Azeroth. The warlock and her demons stepped through it, eager to begin their work.
Content Warning: This story contains a graphic depiction of death. Reader discretion is advised.
The Glittering Prize, Approximately Two Weeks After Gallywix’s Defeat, Late Night.
Nitika clomped her way out of the hold, the taureness yawning hugely. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. The ethereal’s theft of the Dark Heart had her on edge. She didn’t know precisely what they could do with it, but Darkhoof’s insight into the Void had given her a few ideas… and those ideas were making sleep rather had to get.
As she walked out onto the deck she saw Mola’raum leaning on the railing, gazing out over the ocean, his eyes glowing like twin candleflames in the gloom. He looked up at the sound of her hoofsteps, then nodded. “Bad dreams sistah?” he asked.
She nodded, “Yes… but just dreams, so far.” she sighed, walking towards him. “What are you up to?” she asked, glancing out at the sea where he’d been staring, but there was nothing there, just the ocean.
“Just thinkin’ bout Zul’zanza… ‘n how he be sidin’ with Xal’atath.” he replied, looking back towards the sea.
Nitika frowned, “Yeah… I guess we barely knew him, but he didn’t seem that bad when we met him.” she nodded, moving to stand next to the death knight.
He shrugged, “Eh, he be desperate ta get home, bettin’ dat be how Xal’atath got him ta do it. Like with Garnal. Promise ‘em wut dey tink they want ‘n can’t get any odder way ‘n dey’ll do whatever she be sayin’.”
Nitika nodded at that, “I wonder how he even got here, we never did figure out how he was connected to you…” she murmured.
Mola’raum glanced at her, then replied bluntly, “He killed me.”
Nitika started, her head turning to the death knight, “W-what?!” she gasped.
“I didn’t remember him at first… but after a few days it clicked.” he shrugged, “When I was alive, fookin’ ages ago… centuries even, I be a poison maker for me tribe back in Stranglethorn. Me tribe was fightin’ with anudder tribe fer huntin’ territory… ‘n I made poisons fer me tribe’s hunters ta kill his tribe’s. One night, I got hit wit’ a nasty hex, killed me stone dead… ‘n before I die, Bwonsamdi came fer me ‘n showed me de face of my killer… it be Zul’zanza.” he nodded.
Nitika stared at him, a shocked expression on her face. “But… why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.
He shrugged again, “It be ancient history fer me sistah. I died way before ya even be born, even before de orcs came ta Azeroth. Pretty sure Stormwind hadn’t even been fookin’ built yet… I tink… never really left de Vale in life…” he waved his hand dismissively, “Point bein’, dat just be how Stranglethorn was back den. ‘n besides, I helped kill a buncha his bruddahs ‘n sistahs… he just kill me back. Only fair, ya?”
Mola’raum gazed out over the ocean, “… dunno how long ago it be fer him tho… mebbe he scared. Mebbe he tink I gonna hold a grudge ‘n kill him now.” he sighed, shaking his head. “I let dat go ages ago, back when I still be in Maldraxxus. Mebbe if I be sayin’ somethin’ before he go, Xal’atath wouldn’t be makin’ him de offer…”
He frowned, “Too late now…”
Nitika nodded, “Mm… speaking of the timelost, have you seen Loren lately? She left the ship a couple days ago…” she murmured, sounding worried.
Mola’raum nodded, “Eh, she be fine sistah. She said she wanted ta do somethin’ important, now dat she be in a world dat ain’t a pile o’ fookin’ ashes.”
Nitika looked at him curiously, “What did she want to do?” she asked.
Gilneas
Loren padded through the forests, breathing in deeply through her nose. Her worgen senses were much stronger than her human ones, and smell was the strongest of all. She thought she knew the smell of these forests, but in this form it was so much greater.
She’d heard from some worgen back in Dornogal that Gilneas had been reclaimed, with the help of the Forsaken of all things, and she wanted to see it. Most of her countrymen were working on rebuilding Gilneas City still, needing a proper capital before they could focus on the smaller townships and villages in the surrounding countryside, but Loren couldn’t wait for that.
Through the thick woods she went, Morri and Suranol flying above her as she made her way along the path. She knew these woods, she knew them from when she was a child. From when she and her family grew up here together.
Ahead would be Moonshire, her hometown, where her family had lived ever since Gilneas had first been settled in the days of Old Arathor. A small rural farming community well away from the city.
She smiled as she thought of those days, before the Third War. Playing in the woods as a child with her cousins, the solstice feast at her aunt Catherine’s house where she’d tease her bookish cousin Nelen when he’d come home from Dalaran to visit, watching her younger cousin Stephanie while her mother was out bringing in the harvest with the rest of the adults, the stories that her grandfather Franklin would tell them all around the fire…
She passed the marker, and her steps faltered as she looked around, then sighed and shook her head. “… bugger… guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” she muttered.
Moonshire was there… mostly… but it was empty. The buildings were in disrepair, the fields and gardens overgrown. No lights lit the houses behind their broken windows, no children ran through the streets playing at being brave warriors and hunters, nothing.
The worgen curse had come, and everyone in town had either been infected or killed, and the former had left for the wilds once that was over.
Loren walked through the empty streets, looking around sadly as she saw the vacant and ruined buildings, even able to pick out which ones had been her family’s. She saw her aunt’s kitchen, the hearth cold and what food had been stored long eaten by virmen or crumbled to dust and decay. She saw the swing on the tree where her younger cousins would play, the rope snapped on one side and the wooden seat dangling forlornly.
Then she looked closer and saw bones near it… and felt her heart catch. “Oh fel…” she whispered, padding towards them.
Small bones, human… but very small… there was no way for her to tell, it had been so long that the skeleton’s flesh and clothing had been worn away by the elements to nothing… but… somehow, she just knew this was one of her cousins.
She gritted her teeth, growling low, and sniffed around… but it seemed that was the only one.
“Who were yez?” she muttered, “Stephanie? Anthony? Duncan?”
She knelt down and reached a hand out, feeling over the skull. “I oughta at least bury these… give yez a proper grave.” she nodded, then she froze as her nostrils flared and her eyes went wide.
She could smell something. Something that smelled of fur, and musk… and blood…
She growled and stood, pulling her spear free from its sheath on her back and gripping it as she let her nose guide her, looking out through the gloom… and then she saw them.
Coming towards her, alone or in pairs, were worgen. These ones weren’t like her though, they weren’t her countrymen… not anymore.
They approached on all fours, their clothing either in tatters or long gone, their eyes shining with bloodlust and their fangs bared as they growled at her.
They were feral worgen, those who had never gotten their sanity back.
She snarled, baring her fangs, “Back off ye rabid mutts!” she snapped, pulling a wildfire grenade from her pouch and holding it ready. She knew that feral worgen were like wild wolves, fire could scare them into fleeing if she did enough of it.
Then she saw one, and her jaw fell open.
This one had short, pointed ears and brown fur with white patches, a mane of black hair growing down it’s back… just like her.
“Oh shite… I didn’t cack it in this timeline…” she whispered as she saw that one advancing ahead of the rest of the pack as Loren Fullmoon came face to face with Loren Fullmoon.
Her eyes darted back and forth. There were seven worgen in all, this timeline’s Loren appearing to lead the pack. The other worgen seemed confused though, angry but hesitant, and then it hit her.
She smelled like one of their own! She and her other self would smell the same to the worgen!
Smell was a major thing for the worgen, and these were feral worgen… they couldn’t work out what was going on, to their senses there were suddenly two of her but they didn’t understand why!
But she could use that… “SURANOL!” she roared, throwing the bomb past her doppelganger into the field as it landed and exploded with a loud BANG! Flames and shrapnel flew in all directions as the other worgen yelped and barked in shock, then there was a loud hooting sound and her somnowl companion flew down over the battlefield, its wings glowing like the moon at its zenith.
Suranol wasn’t originally one of her companions. He had been the partner of a kal’dorei hunter she’d met in Darnassus in her own timeline… but then the War of Thorns had come, and he gave his life getting her to the hippogriff paddock and out of Darnassus before the city had burned. Suranol had escaped with her, and she had taken him in.
Suranol was a somnowl though, and they were no ordinary birds. Tied deeply to the Emerald Dream, a prized companion of any night elf sentinel or hunter, they had powers beyond ordinary birds.
With a loud hoot the owl flapped its wings, and starlight shone around it’s body as blasts of astral energy flew down onto the feral pack below, the worgen yelping and roaring as the starlight bit into their bodies! Between that and the flames they began to panic, most of them turning and fleeing back into the forests!
The other Loren didn’t though. She looked furious, the worgen roaring a challenge at her!
Loren glared back at her feral counterpart, gripping her spear as she began to charge towards herself. “There can be only one, eh? Not enough room in this timeline fer both o’ me?” she growled, and she raised her spear just in time to jam it into the feral Loren’s mouth, eliciting a yelp as the haft smacked into her jaw’s joint. She kicked out with her leg and sent the feral worgen flying backwards towards the flames, but Feral Loren dug her claws in and stopped herself before she reached the impact point of the bomb!
The feral Loren roared in fury, then ran towards her again as Loren dove out of the way and rolled, the worgen’s claws smashing into the skeleton she’d found and scattering its bones in all directions, and Loren roared. “OI! THAT COULDA BEEN FAMILY YE RABID GIT!” she snarled, reaching for her belt again and pulling out a bowgun, a small one-handed crossbow.
Her feral-self leapt at her just as she pulled the trigger, and the bolt flew past her face and embedded itself in the wall. “FECK!” snapped Loren as she ducked to the side, her feral-self slamming into the ground where she’d been, her claws missing her leg by mere centimeters.
Loren growled and tried to ready her bowgun again… but the feral version was already moving towards her, fangs bared and ears folded back in fury.
Then suddenly a huge explosion rocked the village as the feral Loren’s head snapped around. The bolt that Loren had fired wasn’t an ordinary one, it had a stick of seaforium on it with a fuse that would strike against a piece of flint built into the bowgun when it fired! The feral worgen jumped and yelped like a startled dog at the explosion, and that was all her sane counterpart needed.
She raised her bowgun again, then fired, and with a loud roar the feral version of Loren got a bolt right in the shoulder! “Take that!” she grinned as the feral Loren’s head snapped around to focus on her… then suddenly its vision swam.
Loren was a survivor of the end of her world, and because of that she needed to have every tool she could just to keep death away. Exploding bolts, steel tipped bolts… and poisoned bolts. Even after she left she kept up the practice, and being in Khaz Algar meant she had some new tools to try out. The bolt in question had been coated with venom harvested from some of the nerubian flyers of Azj-kahet… and from the look of it, it was pretty potent.
Feral Loren stumbled, whining as she clawed at the bolt with her other hand, froth forming at her mouth as she growled and coughed, and her sane-self felt a pang of guilt… but she knew not to let it overcome her.
A feral worgen was a deadly foe, and her other self would not show any mercy to her if their situation was reversed.
Loren darted forward and thrust out with her spear, and with a loud yelp of pain the tip pierced her feral-self’s jugular vein. The feral Loren fell to the ground, her eyes huge as her legs kicked up a cloud of dust, trying to get up and flee, but her blood was already flowing freely now, soaking into the ground and her fur.
Slowly, the strength began to go out of her, the feral worgen whimpering in pain.
Loren shook her head, “… I coulda been yez… feck fer a few years I was yez… it was only blind luck that Greymane’s men found me ‘n helped me get me mind back.”
The feral Loren gasped for breath, and for a moment her sane self almost thought she saw a glimmer of intelligence in her duplicate’s eyes… then the lights went out and they fell still.
Loren looked around, but the rest of her pack had fled into the forest. She knew enough about feral worgen to know they wouldn’t risk coming back for a while… then she reached down and grabbed her feral-self’s arms. “Right, c’mon yez…”
About an hour later, she was dusting off her hands as she stood over a mound of dirt. Moonshire had a small graveyard, and fortunately the old grave keeper’s tools had been stored in a shed and survived the years.
“… huh, if I kill meself does that mean I get ta take her spot?” she muttered, looking down at the grave she’d just filled in. No coffin, no funeral, just an unmarked plot… but it wasn’t like she had the time or the tools to do more.
Loren padded out from the graveyard and down the path, then stopped before a dilapidated old cottage. It was a small one with just one story to it… but she knew it very well.
It was her’s. It was where she’d lived and grown up.
She looked at it, then looked around and shook her head. “This ain’t me bleedin’ home… not anymore.” she muttered. “Even if they rebuilt it, Nelen is th’ only family I got left now.”
She looked back at the house, and a moment later there was a twang as a crossbow bolt took out the front window. Another moment and a wildfire bomb flew into the building and ignited.
Loren watched as the flames grew, and soon the windows of her childhood home were alight… and shortly after so was the rest of it.
She stood, watching it for a long while, until the house was completely engulfed, then she reached into her pouch and took out her hearthstone. “… bugger this. I’ve seen enough.” she grunted, whistling loudly. From above came Morri and Suranol, the raven landing on her shoulder as the owl settled at her feet and hopped close enough to press its cheek against her leg. She had trained them to know what that whistle meant after all, and the stone needed them to be physically touching her to work.
She closed her eyes and focused, and with a whoosh of magic the world around her distorted and she vanished, reappearing in the Stonelight Inn back in Dornogal.
She looked around, then saw someone familiar. Sitting at a booth in the inn, sipping a cup of tea as he read, was Nelen Fullmoon.
“Oi cous… room fer one more?” she asked, walking over to him.
He looked up, then slid a piece of folded paper into the tome and closed it, nodding to her. “I don’t see why not.” he replied, giving her a small smile.
Loren grinned, then sat down as her birds made their way out of the inn and took flight into the skies above Khaz Algar, the worgen ordering herself some of the ale that the Alliance and Horde had brought in for their people. Cinderbrew was a popular drink among the earthen but if your insides weren’t made of stone, it wasn’t a great idea to drink it.
Nelen glanced at his cousin, then raised an eyebrow, “You look like something’s bothering you, care to talk about it?” he asked. It was harder for others to tell what a worgen was thinking (unless they were angry, which would be immediately obvious) but a Gilnean knew what to look for.
Loren shrugged, waving a clawed hand dismissively, “Eh… not yet cous. Let’s just enjoy our drinkies eh?” she replied as an earthen bartender brough her a mug of Thunderbrew.
Nelen shrugged, but let it go. He knew her growing up and knew Loren had always had trouble talking about things like this. When she was ready, he’d listen.
For now, they discussed the latest news out of the Undermine, the reports coming in from Alliance scouts of sightings of ethereals, and other business of the day. After all, Azeroth was a busy place, and if there’s one thing that was true about their world, its that it never stopped changing.
Back in Gilneas the house had burned down to its frame, the fires having gone out now. One day Moonshire may be rebuilt, the ruined building torn down and carted away before a new one was built in its place. One day it might be home to another child, one who could hopefully grow up in a kinder world.
But for now, the two worgen shared a drink together, in a small moment of peace.
Mola’raum was doing his usual guard duties, watching the ship while his living allies slept away the night. Edwood was with him, but the forsaken man was poor company lately with his frustrations at Lord Lor’themar often becoming the focus of conversation. Mola’raum understood and indeed shared his desire to corner Alalestria somewhere and express his displeasure loudly and violently, but she was a powerful magister and would likely not wind up in such a situation where they could ambush and deal with her before she could bring her magic to bear and destroy them both.
As he leaned on the railing of the ship he saw someone coming towards the gangplank and smirked, waving to her. “Hey sistah! How’d ya huntin’ go?” he asked.
“Badly…” sighed Nankoz as she walked up onto the deck. “As far as I can tell, given what I felt on the traces of his aura, he’s hiding out in the Void.” she frowned. “I don’t know how we’re even supposed to chase him there! That void elf friend of yours is probably the only one who could even get to the right plane of reality for that, and he could be anywhere in that place!”
Mola’raum winced. “Oof… he be in de fookin’ shadow realm itself, eh?” he replied, shaking his head. “Ya sistah, I don’t got any suggestions dere. Mebbe when Nitika wakes up we can ask her, ya?”
Nankoz shrugged, “Worth a try…” she grunted.
However, unknown to them, Garnal and his allies weren’t in the Void at present…
After confirming the theft of the Dark Heart, Xal’atath had returned to the void in a state of rage. She had immediately sent her followers across Azeroth to sites where powerful events of voidcraft had taken place throughout history, ordering them to find the ethereals and reclaim what had been stolen from her.
Garnal, Xiaren, and Zul’zanza had been sent to the eastern kingdoms, to a place that had been warped by the power of the void, the elements there twisted into huge spires of metal and spikes that stood to this day.
The land known as the Twilight Highlands.
The Bastion of Twilight
The Bastion was never a good place to be, but it was in a state of advanced disrepair, some paths through it having even collapsed over the years since the Cataclysm.
Once it was the seat of power for the ogre Cho’gall, herald of the Old Gods and leader of the Twilight’s Hammer Cult, but he met his end at the hands of the adventurers of the day. Most of the cult scattered to the hills without their leader, fearing those powerful enough to slay the mighty ogre magi, and many of them rallied in Northrend at the fated Hour of Twilight.
Those who did were killed almost to a man by the defenders at Wyrmrest Temple, which included the members of Avalon and Savage United who stayed behind to protect the dragons there while the aspects and Thrall pursued Deathwing to the Maelstrom to finish off the maddened leader of the Black Dragonflight.
Through the ruined halls, past caved in hallways, and through the bones of the fallen cultists walked Garnal Blackice, the undead man clad in his voidtouched armor, the fanged plate mail more alive than it’s wearer.
Next to him was his partner in service to Xal’atath, the sha sorceress Xiaren. She was wearing her usual robes of swirling black and white, her mutilated eyes hidden behind a pair of smoked glasses. She didn’t need them anymore. She could use the eyes of the sha possessing her to see (though it always gave the odd sensation of looking over her own shoulder.)
On his other side, clad still in the traditional trollish garments he arrived on Khaz Algar in, was the witch doctor Zul’zanza… who had reacted to the elementium towers in the Highlands with several very vulgar words in trollish, though his companions could only assume on their vulgarity since neither of them could understand him.
Zul’zanza was miserable. He wanted to go back to the Stranglethorn Vale of the past, but without help he was stuck here. All he could do was hope that Xal’atath would keep up her end of the bargain. He helped her take the Azeroth of the present, she’d send him back to the Azeroth of the past once she had control of the world and its soul.
“So… what we be lookin’ for mon?” he asked, glancing at Garnal.
The death knight kept his gaze forward as he proceeded through the tunnels. “Mistress Xal’atath believes that the ethereals will need to charge the Dark Heart before they can use it for whatever task they have in mind.” When Alleria damaged the Dark Heart, a great amount of the energy it had absorbed had escaped, forcing Xal’atath to flee to the Void in the hopes that she could work some magic to contain what was left. After such a loss of power the Dark Heart would need to be refueled as it were.
Garnal continued, “This was the home of a powerful void user known as Cho’gall. He died here, and if his corpse is here then it may still carry some of the power he wielded. Its possible the ethereals will try to claim it. Our task is find Cho’gall’s remains, determine if it has power, and attempt to ambush any ethereals who come seeking it. If they have the Dark Heart, we kill them and recover it.”
Zul’zanza nodded, falling silent as he glanced around the ruins, his eyes narrowing. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching them.
He had grown up in Stranglethorn Vale and those who lived in the jungle would soon learn how to tell when a threat was nearby. If someone in the Vale didn’t know how to tell the difference between a shadow under the leaves and a hungry tiger then they didn’t last very long.
Xiaren knew that something was there, she could feel their thoughts (rather, her sha could,) but they were staying away for now so she didn’t care.
Finally, they came to a large throne room with a gaping hole in the floor, and near the hole was something that made Zul’zanza’s jaw drop, his eyes going wide behind his mask.
A huge skeleton of a massive creature with two heads, some small bits of rotten flesh still clinging to the bones.
“Da fook be dat mon?” he asked, pointing at it.
“Ah yes, you said you wound up here from before the Dark Portal opened…” nodded Garnal, “Zul’zanza, meet Cho’gall.” smirked the death knight, gesturing to the bones. “He was an ogre in life, though they were originally native to Draenor so they were after your time.”
Zul’zanza nodded slowly, reaching for his wand on his belt without really thinking about it as Xiaren walked towards the corpse.
She stood near it, then a mass of shadows rose up behind her as her sha took form. The voidspawn reached out a clawed hand to the bones, then hissed and vanished back into the pandaren as she shuddered.
“Nothing. The bones have no power at all, but only recently so. The sha can feel the echo of the Void here… Mistress Xal’atath was right, the ethereals are harvesting void essence, but we’re too late. They’ve already been and gone.” explained Xiaren, her voice deadpan and emotionless. She always kept her emotions in check, to do otherwise was to risk her sha overpowering her again.
Garnal frowned, “Blast… well we can at least report back that we confirmed her suspicions, redouble our efforts to track down other sources of power across Azeroth.” grumbled the death knight.
As he did Zul’zanza’s head snapped up and Xiaren turned to face the path they came through.
“Garnal. We are not alone.” she warned, flexing her hands as the power of her sha swirled around her fingertips. Her hands looked strange, covered in a swirling black and white pattern as if she wore gloves… but in truth those were just how her hands looked now. A while back, in Hallowfall, she had fought the pandaren monk Jaie Swiftpaw, and she had lost control of her sha which had tried to possess her. Jaie had used her own powers to force it back, but she would forever bear the mark of its corruption now.
Zul’zanza drew his wand and spell foci as Garnal unsheathed his swords, the living starcursed blades twitching eagerly as if hungry for the taste of blood… and then they burst through the doorway leading out of Cho’gall’s ruined throne room.
They were mortals once. Humans, orcs, dwarves, and the other races of Azeroth… but when Cho’gall died and the Bastion of Twilight fell, they had nowhere to go. So they stayed, hiding out and living off the food stores, then whatever they could catch or hunt without being caught by the Wildhammer dwarves and Dragonmaw orcs native to the area… but living in such a place, so close to the remains of a powerful void magic user like Cho’gall, had twisted them.
The Void would transform its followers, turning them into various creatures. The squid-faced k’thir, the faceless ones, and many others… but these ones weren’t anything like that. Their changes happened without a hand to guide them, only by proximity to the magical energies leaking off their former leader’s remains.
They were monsters. Misbegotten horrors that shouldn’t have been able to even function, but through their connection to the Void they somehow endured.
Their leader was an orc once, but now one arm had split into a mass of tentacles coated in fanged orifices, his face sporting one right eye and no less than seven left eyes, his tusks twice the size of a normal orc. “KILL THEM!” he roared, pointing a rusted axe at the trio as similar creatures surged around him!
Garnal swore and raised his blades as the shadows swirled around Zul’zanza, the troll lifting off the floor as he became a being of darkness. Behind them Xiaren’s sha manifested, the creature cackling as it tasted the emotions of their attackers. Fury at the intrusion, fear at being discovered, and a hunger… well… they didn’t eat very often. That one was more literal.
Really, they were transformed so far from the men and women they used to be… would it even count as cannibalism?
Garnal snarled and lashed out with his swords, a wave of shadowfrost cutting down a dwarven man with huge compound eyes and mandibles coming from his mouth, four sets of arms flailing as ice formed over his body. “Xiaren!” he called out.
“I cannot open a voidgate. Cho’gall warded his throne room against such things. We must escape the room or we cannot leave.” she replied, though there was a tremor in her voice. She couldn’t keep down her fear of the sight of so many former members of the Twilight’s Hammer attacking them, and behind her the sha shivered in pleasure at the sensation.
Garnal swore and swung his swords, bisecting a creature that at one point may have been a human woman, but at this point was more akin to a walking tumor with sores bleeding a foul ichor all over their form, their hands like twisted claws as they tried to grasp at him even as he hacked them apart. “DAMN!”
Zul’zanza lashed out with his power, sending a wave of darkness towards them, but it didn’t seem to do much to the attackers! A few stumbled, but the others kept coming! “Fook! Dese guys be too far gone! Th’ power Xal’atath gave me ain’t workin’ on ‘em!” he warned.
Xiaren frowned then reached out with her mind. If they were starcursed she may be able to control them like she could the skardyn, but as soon as she touched the mind of one of them she cried out and darted backwards. It was like sticking her hand into a hornet’s nest! They were so twisted by the uncontrolled remnants of Cho’gall’s power that they barely had minds TO control!
Ahead of them Garnal slammed his foot down as the ground before him swirled with necrotic energies, the cultists who ran into it falling to the floor as their bodies began to rot and fall apart, but some of them seemed wholly unaffected by it! He slashed down another one, a goblin man with two heads and mouths full of fangs, acidic yellow eyes all over his arms, then lashed out with his leg and kicked back another goblin whose body was so pitch black that he almost didn’t see them among their more monstrous allies, the goblin’s eyes pinpricks of light in a sea of darkness, like the night sky in a humanoid form!
Xiaren looked between them, then thought in her head, “(There’s too many… we’re going to get overwhelmed!)”
Inside of her mind a voice responded, “(Yes… does that scare you Xiaren? Your fear tastes so wonderful…)” it hissed.
Xiaren frowned, “(Damn you… think! If they overwhelm us, they’ll kill me! If I die, what happens to you?!)” she demanded.
The sha hesitated, “(Ah… you are right. That cannot happen. Fly over them and flee. They cannot reach you if I lift you.)”
“(If I go back without Garnal and Zul’zanza then Xal’atath will kill me for failing to bring them back. She was already angry when she had to recruit more people!)” she retorted.
The sha snarled, but it knew she was right. Away from Pandaria, without the remnants of Y’shaarj’s breath, it could not stay alive without a host. If Xiaren died then it would cease to exist at all.
“(Open your mind to me Xiaren.)” it whispered to her mind.
Xiaren growled, “(You will release me as soon as they are dead. They need me to open the path back to the Mistress.)” she insisted.
The sha growled, but it didn’t sound like a no… so Xiaren took a breath, and grimaced as she forced herself to remember. Remember the pain of losing her family to the mantid, remember her fury at Jaie’s offer to ‘help her’ far too late, her horror at the sound of Sekhi singing with Azeroth’s voice which made her hear the voices of her parents begging her to abandon her path and to stop helping the Harbinger… all of those together, and behind her the sha roared in ecstasy as it drank deeply of them, and dove in.
Xiaren screamed as her body shook, the pandaren’s features distorting as the sha merged with her, mind and body, once more… but this time it was necessary. They were facing down a small army of monsters, so they needed a monster of their own.
“Garnal! Zul’zanza! Get back!” she demanded, the pandaren’s body swelling as the sha transformed her flesh, and the two became one.
A massive sha loomed behind them, its features vaguely pandaren, but the creature easily thirty feet tall. It would have dwarfed even Cho’gall in life! Xiaren roared wordlessly and lashed out with a massive, clawed hand, slamming five cultists against the wall with a sickening crunch as she surged forward. She and her sha had been bonded to each other since she was a child, and her time in service to Xal’atath had only strengthened the connection. Her body had become the perfect vessel for the remnant of Y’shaarj, and she used that power now to force a path for their escape!
The cultists attacked with whatever they had to hand, but their numbers were no longer an advantage! Most of their weapons were falling apart from years of neglect, and their bodies were a nightmarish mish-mash of various creatures from years of random mutations. Some of them had claws or fangs or such, most did not or at least not in such a way that they were useful.
Xiaren roared, her voice echoing through the chamber as a wave of terror swept over the crowd ahead of them, the former members of the Twilight’s Hammer feeling their hearts catch (which wasn’t the same number as the number of cultists, not all the mutations were visible) before many of them turned and fled screaming into the ruined building. A few remained, and the sha-corrupted pandaren picked them up and pulled them apart in her claws, unleashing her rage and fury upon them, letting the sha drink of their terror as she killed them in various ways.
Finally, the room was clear, the transformed pandaren shaking her head as she clawed at the floor.
“(RELEASE ME! I MUST TAKE THEM BACK OR XAL’ATATH WILL COME FOR US BOTH!)” she demanded.
“(No! I refuse! I have starved for too long! Hunt the rest down and kill them! Let me feed on their fear, their despair!)” the sha demanded.
Xiaren hissed between her teeth, then the monster she had become screwed up its eyes and focused, breathing in and out at a slow measured pace as she clawed slowly at the floor.
Her body began to shrink back down slowly, a few inches at first, then faster as she forced her emotions back down. Inside her head the sha roared and raged, thrashing around as it tried to grab whatever emotions it could, clawing at her fears and anxieties, trying to draw out her repressed memories of her family, but Xiaren refused to let it. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to let go of the anger, the rage, all of it… leaving an icy calm behind.
The sha wailed and protested, begging now, but she ignored it, and soon the monster was gone and Xiaren stood there, her face an impassive mask as she pushed down the last few dregs of emotion, leaving herself empty once more.
“It is done.” she stated simply, then waved her hand as, just outside the ruined throne room, a portal of pure darkness appeared. The pandaren woman walked a few steps towards it, stopped, and looked back over her shoulder. “Are you coming?” she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice for just a moment.
Garnal still had his swords out, Zul’zanza a normal troll once more but almost hiding behind the death knight. That had been quite the display, Garnal hadn’t seen Xiaren let the sha merge with her before… and it seemed that it didn’t want to give that up without a fight.
“Yes…” nodded Garnal, sheathing his weapons and trying to regain his composure, “We need to report to Mistress Xal’atath.” he added. He was a military man, sticking to protocol helped him focus.
Zul’zanza just nodded, trying not to scream. He really really missed his home in Stranglethorn Vale’s past right now.
The three of them walked through the portal, which closed with a snap, and thus the Bastion of Twilight was empty once more… save for those malformed horrors that stalked its halls, though much fewer in number now.
The three foes of Azeroth, and the members of Avalon and Savage United in particular, had confirmed Xal’atath’s suspicions if nothing else. The ethereals would need to empower the Dark Heart before they could use it… that at least gave her a target. Sources of great power on Azeroth, and not just void based powers. The Azure Archives in the Dragon Isles, the Maelstrom in the great sea, the Nightwell of Suramar… all of those could be a potential source of power should the ethereals manage to besiege them long enough to drain them into the Dark Heart.
Speaking of power, another being sought it as well… though in her case, she wanted allies rather than raw energy…
The Twisting Nether
On an island in the nether was a huge palatial building. It was several stories tall with spires sticking out over the swirling emptiness below. The interior was akin to the most extreme bordello one might ever imagine, where the clients come to indulge in cravings that are so far beyond sexual that they come back out the other side, and sometimes they don’t leave intact either...
At the top of the tower was the throne room of the most powerful demon there, the one who commanded the lesser sayaad, the Mother of Chaos.
Cenoon walked towards the door, then sighed and glanced back, “… don’t say anything, just let me do the talking.” he warned. Standing behind him were Gremori, Az’arad, and a short goblin woman in grey silken robes with purple hair.
Cenoon shoved open the door and walked inside, “… great mother Nirihzyh… I have returned from Aze-…” he began but was cut off by a loud squealing sound.
Rising from the throne was a huge woman with six sets of arms, her skin the color of ripe olives, her eyes glowing like coals. She wore a huge black metal headdress and little else, a small top and loincloth the only modesty she would allow herself.
“CENNYWENNY! YOU’RE BACK!” she called out, rushing forward and grabbing Cenoon, lifting the incubus up into her embrace with a delighted smile. “Oh, I missed my little boy so much! How was Azeroth? Did you have fun? Did you seduce anyone who screamed nicely? Did you bring mommy a present?” she giggled.
Behind him Az’arad stared in confusion, the wrathguard not sure what to make of what he was seeing. The goblin bit her lip, her sharp teeth digging into her skin to keep from laughing at the sight as Cenoon struggled, trying to free himself.
Behind them Gremori was leaning against a wall, doubled over and cackling loudly as small embers of felfire dribbled out from her eye sockets, the closest she could come to ‘laughing so hard she was crying.’
“Mother! MOTHER PLEASE! You’re embarrassing me infront of my warlock!” he protested, kicking his hooves as he tried to shove her arms apart long enough to get away.
“Hmph, oh poo…” pouted the giant demoness, “Poor little Cenny is upset that mommy still wants to dote on her son?” she asked, “Its not like any of your brothers survived as long as you did… why shouldn’t I be able to give my son a hug when he comes home?”
The goblin blinked slowly as the words sank in, the small woman walking forward as Cenoon finally managed to slip free and quickly ducked out of reach. “Wait… wait a bleedin’ minute…” she asked, “When you said ‘mother’ I thought you meant just a big demon woman… are you tellin’ me she actually is…” she began.
Cenoon sighed, “… my mother. Yes. I’m not going into the details of how sayaad reproduce, but the short version is this. Incubi like me are rare compared to succubi, we tend to die early and there’s only a handful of us in any spawn compared to our sisters. Mother can be a bit… clingy… because of that.” he replied, folding his arms over his chest and glancing away.
The demoness Nirihzyh sniffed at that, “Oh come now Cenny… that’s just mean…” she sighed, “Now, are you going to introduce us to your friends? Would they care for some treats? I have a mortal who didn’t read the summoning spell properly on the wall there if one of them would like to play.” she offered.
At this Az’arad grinned, unsheathing his axe.
Nirihzyh smiled and nodded, waving for him to go, and the wrathguard stomped towards the wall as the would-be warlock let out a whimper of terror before a loud chopping sound and a scream echoed through the throne room.
Cenoon shrugged, “The one taking your plaything apart is Az’arad, and the elf back there is Gremori. This is…” he paused, glancing at the goblin.
The goblin nodded to the demoness, “Cassidy Cogwheel. That’s what I’m going by for now.” she replied.
“Lovely to meet you, Cassidy.” nodded the demoness before she turned to Cenoon, “So… what brought you back home sweetie? I get the feeling it wasn’t just to visit your poor, lonely mother…” she pouted at him.
Cenoon sighed, “You’re not lonely mother, I only have one hundred and forty-seven sisters here last I counted.”
Nirihzyh giggled, “One hundred and thirty-six now. Some mortal wanted to open a nightclub with some real thrills on some drab little backwater world in the mortal realm. They’ll be back home once they’ve finished their games, I’m sure.”
Cenoon shrugged, “Well as long as they bring enough victims for everyone… but you’re right. Cassidy is wanting to contract with powerful demons and, well, you are powerful…” he nodded, though he looked away as he said it.
“Oh? Well… I don’t normally contract with mortals… but if she’s your friend that means I’ll be able to pop in and check up on my little sweetie-pie won’t it?” she grinned, showing a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth akin to a shark.
Cenoon hesitated, then looked back towards Cassidy with a distressed expression. “… must we?” he hissed.
Cassidy ignored him, the goblin woman walking forward and cutting her palm, holding it out to the demoness with a firm nod.
Nirihzyh smiled, then drew her fingernail across the palm of one of her hands as a deep violet liquid swelled up, “I Nirihzyh, Mother of Chaos and queen of the Sayaad of the Screaming Expanse, bind myself to you.” she purred, taking Cassidy’s hand in her own.
The goblin grinned, then said her part of the pact, and it was done and sealed… but Nirihzyh insisted they at least stay for dinner. She even let Az’arad carve the main course for everyone, after she chained it down so he could do it without too much difficulty. Gremori commented that it screamed well too.
All in all, Cenoon had to admit that he had worse visits home.
The Undermine, One Week after Jastor Gallywix’s Defeat
Through the neon-lit streets walked a small woman with bright scarlet hair. A gnomish woman, which did cause some comment in the goblin city, but only from those who didn’t get close enough to see her properly. Those who did recognized what she was and would usually quickly and quietly leave or pretend they hadn’t seen her at all.
Goblins and gnomes had long had a rivalry between their cultures on Azeroth, both races among the most technologically advanced in the world (at least until the arrival of the Draenei, who were literal space aliens when you got right down to it.) Engineering was a passion among the majority of both cultures, though it tended to go in different directions.
Gnomish engineers focused on discovery and unusual devices, creating things like wormhole generators for quick travel across the planet (unless they malfunctioned and you appeared several miles above the planet, then blew up) transformation devices intended to temporarily transform a person of one race into another (unless they malfunctioned and turned them into a sheep or other farm animal before blowing up) and the like.
Goblin engineers tended to be more practical. Why build a wormhole generator to teleport someone through gods only knew what realities when you could just build a rocket-powered jetpack and fly where you wanted (until it malfunctioned and blew up.) Why bother making yourself into another race when you could use a device to enhance yourself into a hulking super-being of your own race (unless it malfunctioned, turned you into a sheep, and then blew up.)
Though, while goblins and gnomes were known for following such scientific endeavors, not all did. There were still members of both races who did plenty of other things. After all, while some mad scientist was busy in their laboratory creating the new breakthrough that would revolutionize life on Azeroth (unless it blew up) someone had to cook the meals, clean the house, and wash the scorch marks off their clothes (because shit kept blowing up!)
Some of them were just adventurers like any other, just smaller than most adventurers. Plenty were shopkeepers or other necessary jobs to keep a city running, after all people would soon notice if the grocers were shut down because there was nobody there to staff them.
This one particular gnome, in another life, was a writer. An author of novels popular among young teenagers seeking a bit of a thrill, bored housewives nostalgic for the fantasies of their youth, and outcasts who wanted something that they could indulge in private.
… but that was another life, literally for her.
Nankoz Scarletspark was not a happy gnome. She had been scouring all over Khaz Algar for any rumors of the reappearance of her target, the renegade death knight Garnal Blackice, only for Mola’raum and his allies to return to the surface and inform her that they had encountered him briefly in the Undermine of all places!
Had Mola’raum been there he could have easily used the reaperstone to summon Nankoz to his location to dish out merry hell right in Garnal’s traitorous face, but he wasn’t there. By the time they had arrived in the Undermine Garnal had already retreated, and since only another death knight could use a reaperstone (a necessary precaution given their ability to summon a reaper like herself) it had to be him.
But that was her duty. She was a Reaper, one of the elite of the Ebon Blade, tasked with hunting down death knights who went rogue and granting them true death. Normally this did not take long to do…
Nankoz sighed, muttering under her breath, “… but normally they don’t know a creepy sha-possessed pandaren who can tear open holes in reality for them to escape through…” she grumbled.
She looked rather odd for a death knight. Rather than their usual garb of heavy plate mail heavy on the skull motifs and glowing bits, she wore a fine tailored suit of black and red silk over a white linen shirt with a scarlet cravat, a black silk duelist’s cape adorning her back. Sheathed on her back was a longsword, though in her tiny hands it may as well have been a claymore, that would glow with a crimson radiance when held ready.
She was a death knight of the school of blood, a vampiric woman who used the power of that vital scarlet liquid as a weapon and a source of power… which, given what she did in life, was rather ironic.
Finally, she reached the spot on the map that Nelen had given her, marking out where the group had encountered Garnal and his allies. She didn’t know if she’d find anything, but dammit it was her job. She had to at least check!
She walked into the clearing between the buildings and looked around. This was just how Nelen had described it.
On one side, a group of buildings still sporting the damage from the black blood weapons the Darkfuse Cartel had used trying to defend the place from the ethereals who attacked them, on the other side the cave with Jastor Gallywix’s hidden repair shop, the door still laying where Gazlowe’s bomb had blown it off its hinges.
“Lets see… Nelen said he showed up between two buildings opposite the cave…” she muttered, looking around and reaching out with her mind. All death knights had the innate ability to sense necromantic energy and auras, and… just there, very faintly was the trace she was looking for.
She walked towards it, closing her eyes as much as she dared so her mind could see better, and soon she found it. Faint, very faint, but still there. The aura of Garnal Blackice, as unique as a fingerprint to one of the Ebon Blade.
She reached out, trying to feel it, frowning. “… dark… cold… wherever he was it wasn’t a nice place…” she mumbled, but she couldn’t quite grasp what she was feeling. If he’d been hiding out in a tomb or graveyard or even near one, which renegades often did (they found they felt much more comfortable around the dead than the living, and this was usually a good sign that a death knight was about to go off the deep end if they hadn’t yet) but… this was different.
Not dark and cold, but the absence of light and warmth. A strange sort of nothingness, of emptiness surrounded the trace of his aura that she couldn’t read.
The gnome thought, then remembered what Nelen had told her about his allies. The sha-possessed pandaren Xiaren and their former guest turned nemesis Zul’zanza… both of which channeled the power of…
Nankoz let her arms drop as her eyes snapped open, the gnome’s teeth clenched in frustration. “… the Void?!” she spat, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, “He’s hiding in the VOID?! Oh for… I can’t go there! I don’t have any way to get there!” she shouted, stomping her foot as she clenched her hands.
“Great… just great…” she frowned, then turned on her heel and began to head back towards the other end of the Undermine and Slam Central Station to return to the surface. “I can’t go back to Acherus until I complete my mission, but he’s not even in this plane of reality anymore!”
As she made her way back, she went past a series of shops around the Incontinental Hotel. Tourist shops mostly selling snow-globes that would spring a leak within a week, ‘totally authentic’ autographs of famous goblins, and the like… then she slowed as she passed one of the more established shops.
The tourist ones tended to spring up and die every few months, but this one had a look that said they’d been there a while and catered to a specific clientele.
It was a bookstore, and in the front window was a very familiar book. It showed a shirtless blood elf man with long golden hair and the kind of chest and torso muscles that you had to train for years to get trying, and failing, to resist the advances of a sultry elven woman with glowing red eyes and long fangs in a blood red gown. The title read ‘The Scarlet Harem of the Blood Queen’ and under it ‘By Nankoz Scarletspark.’
Next to a pile of said books was a sign reading ‘Memorial Sale, 50% off.’
Nankoz stared, then looked up thoughtfully… “Oh wow… yeah… that was today, wasn’t it?” she mumbled. Precisely eight years ago she had traveled to Nazmir with an Alliance Expeditionary Force hoping to glean some inspiration from the blood trolls for a new novel.
It hadn’t gone well for her. That was an understatement really, it had ended in her death. The blood trolls had ambushed the expedition and slaughtered the soldiers, then dragged any non-combatants off as sacrifices to G’huun. Nankoz had met her doom under the sacrificial dagger of the troll’s leader.
But, on Azeroth, death is not always the end.
She awoke, several months later, inside Acherus on a slab. Two death knights were there, and they explained what had happened. She had been taken from Nazmir by the Ebon Blade and raised as one of their own. Their leader, Bolivar Fordragon, feared a coming threat and wanted to grow the ranks of the Ebon Blade as much as he could to combat it, and Nankoz had been chosen to join them.
They did stress however that this was not being forced on her. They would NOT make someone join them against their will. She had a choice: become a Knight of the Ebon Blade and take up the sword in defense of Azeroth (whatever the cost to herself and her sanity,) or refuse and they would kill her as quickly and painlessly as possible and return her soul to the Shadowlands.
Nankoz almost said no… until she realized that one of them, a trollish man, had crimson armor with bat skulls decorating it and a spear that seemed to drip blood behind him (though the droplets always seemed to vanish before reaching the floor.) She asked why, and he told her of the three schools, the combat stylings of death knights.
The Unholy School, who were necromancers who waded into battle with an army of mindless horrors backing them up, their powers raising the dead as soulless monsters to fight alongside them.
The Frost School, which drew upon the deep chill of Northrend to freeze their foe’s bodies and shatter them into a million pieces, armored in an unbreakable carapace of ice as they did so.
… and the troll told her of what he was.
A knight of the Blood School, vampiric warriors who sustained their unlives by draining the vitality of their foes, who left a trail of exsanguinated bodies in their wake.
It is worth mentioning that before her death, Nankoz made her fame selling novels about the romance between the living and the undead, mostly vampiric beings like the san’layn.
Once she’d calmed down the troll introduced her to the instructors at Acherus, and Nankoz laid down her pen and took up the sword.
As a gnome she couldn’t hope to match the sheer might of an orc, tauren, or even some of the larger humans, so she didn’t try. She abandoned the heavy armor for lighter clothing and used her gnomish agility and speed, darting around her foe’s legs and striking up at them with her blade. It didn’t matter that her foes were stronger, she was too fast for them to hit!
When the Shadowlands opened she didn’t go with the vanguard into the Maw, but stayed behind to help defend Azeroth from the Scourge, and during all that she rather got into the idea of being like the characters she used to write about in life… so much so that she even went out of her way to file her canine teeth into sharp fangs and dress in the style of one of her characters.
But her prowess in combat drew the attention of Darion Mograne. When he returned from the Shadowlands he heard reports of her valor on the battlefield, the gnome woman easily defeating larger opponents by simply avoiding their attacks and striking where it would do the most damage, even conjuring huge undead horrors made of blood and viscera.
In recognition for her skill in protecting their home while they fought back the forces of the Jailer, she was given the title of Reaper.
Nankoz sighed as she looked at the book sitting there, her glowing blue eyes full of longing. She hadn’t written so much as a single chapter since she was raised into undeath, there was simply no time for it. Reapers were the elite of the Ebon Blade, they had a duty to police their ranks and end the unlives of knights who turned traitor or went mad with their powers, preferably before they did too much damage but the knights were nothing if not pragmatic. They knew sometimes the important bit was that they wouldn’t do any more damage.
“No rest for the dead…” she whispered. She had ideas now, ideas aplenty. Her time with the Ebon Blade had her filled to bursting with new stories… but she had no time to tell them.
She shook her head, then turned and walked towards the rocketbus that would take her back to Khaz Algar. Perhaps someday, if Azeroth ever truly found peace, she could lay down her sword and pick up a pen once more.
Another Ironforge, Ten Years After the Crowning of King Arthas of Lordaeron
Yvain sat at her desk as her father, Dareley Steelhammer, read from his libram. The girl took notes on what he told her, eager to learn more of the Holy Light. Her faith was every bit as strong as his, and she wanted to become a Knight of the Silver Hand like he had been when she got older… but she was just ten years old now and she had only just begun her lessons with the other prospective squires.
Dareley was retired now, the dwarven man’s black hair now streaked with gray, wearing just a tunic and trousers as he helped Yvain with her studies. He was proud of his daughter, wanting to encourage her desire to become one of the protectors of the good people of Azeroth as he had been.
“Th’ Light teaches us that those who sell their souls ta th’ darker forces o’ creation cannot truly be saved. Those that practice necromancy, fel magicks, ‘n th’ like are forever stained by th’ act, their souls blackened. Th’ most any knight can do is end them as quickly as possible afore they cannae use their powers ta harm others.” he nodded, turning a page. “Th’ Church o’ th’ Holy Light teaches us compassion, but fer those wicked souls th’ only compassion we can give is an end ta th’ sufferin’, both that which they cause, ‘n that which a twisted soul surely feels.”
Yvain looked up at him, her eyes wide. “But poppa, what if they’re really sorry? What if they promise not ta do it again?” she asked.
Dareley shook his head sadly, “They may say they promise lass, but they’ll always backslide sooner or later… ‘n trust me lass. Ye ain’t seen what those powers can do…” he shuddered at the memories of facing down the Cult of the Damned. Of seeing families become mindless undead horrors. “Th’ best thing we can do is end th’ horror lass. Quickly as possible ta protect those they would’ve otherwise harmed.”
She nodded a bit, biting her lip. It seemed to bother her, the idea of not even giving someone a chance to change their ways.
Dareley smiled at her, “Ye’ve got a kind heart Yvain… but this ain’t like when ye nicked some o’ yer mom’s last batch of frostberry tarts.” he chuckled.
Yvain huffed at him, kicking her legs, “I knoooooooow!” she sighed, rolling her eyes as her father laughed at her reaction. Her mother, Misti, had scolded her of course and made her do the cleaning up as punishment.
Stormwind City, The Titan’s Timeline, Present Day
Yvain awoke with a snort, sitting up and rubbing her eyes as she climbed out of her father’s bed. While he and the rest of Avalon were away she was staying in Avalon House with Jaie’s mother, Xinyi Swiftpaw. She didn’t mind staying in Stormwind. The Church was a nice place to visit and collect her thoughts and she felt she was doing good work with the guardsmen.
Dareley had introduced her to the captain of the guard and he had offered to take her on as a constable to help keep order in the city. It was getting tense lately, rumors of the Harbinger swirled throughout the taverns and businesses of Stormwind and those rumors brought anxiety and fear with them.
Ever since the destruction of Dalaran there had been a rise in bar fights, domestic problems, and other such things that were caused by the fear of a distant but very dangerous threat. While the heroes of the Alliance and Horde could face down the minions of Xal’atath directly the average citizen could only worry and keep an ear out for rumors and news from the front… and the problem with rumors is that they tended to grow and change as they went on.
A story about the nerubians in Azj-kahet being hidden underneath Khaz Algar had twisted and changed enough that, by the time it reached the Eastern Kingdoms it was all city guard could do to keep people from arming themselves and digging up their basements, convinced that the arachnid folk were ready to invade from below their very feet.
Yvain chuckled at that memory as she washed her face in the basin before pulling on her armor and sliding her hammer into the harness on the back of her breastplate, heading down the stairs with a clatter of metal.
As she passed the kitchen Xinyi stepped out and smiled at her, the older pandaren woman wearing a blue silken robe. “Ah, good morning Yvain. Heading out already?” she asked.
The dwarf nodded to her, “Aye. Gotta keep an eye on th’ city with all th’ mess goin’ on overseas.” she replied.
Xinyi sighed at that, looking a little worried herself. After all, her daughter was right in the middle of all that and, skilled monk or not, she was still a mom and moms worried about their kids, even when they weren’t kids anymore. “Mm, yes well… I’m sure if there was anything serious happening on that Isle of Dorn place Jaie would let us know.” she nodded, though some part of her sounded anxious regardless.
Yvain smiled a bit at her, “Poppa would tell us if it was gonna come our way.” she replied. She had gotten used to the idea that the earthen man she’d met was, indeed, her father… just a different version of him, but while she dearly missed her real father this timeline’s Dareley did his best to make her feel welcome.
Xinyi nodded, then held out a small bundle of cloth. “Well, here. Something for when you get hungry out there.” she smiled, the smell of baked dough and fresh vegetables coming from inside the cloth.
Yvain grinned at her, “Ach, yer too kind ta me. Dunnae how I’ll cope if I do get back ta me home after food like this, my version o’ th’ Alliance never met th’ Pandaren.” she chuckled, taking the bundle as Xinyi smiled at her, the dwarf walking out into the hustle and bustle of the city.
It was still early so it was mostly early risers. Shopkeepers getting ready for the day and guards out on morning patrol, a few of them nodding to her in greeting as they passed.
She walked through the streets to the southern end of the Old Town district, heading into the command center of the guard forces of the city, then after putting the pouch of food in her locker she went to the main table in the building and stopped, saluting. “Yvain Steelhammer reportin’ in Sir!” she nodded firmly.
A human man sat there, an older man with a much-scarred face and a busy white beard. He was a bit out of shape, but then he’d been regulated to a desk job ever since a raid on a cultist lair during the Legion’s last invasion had cost him a leg. He had a pegleg for a right leg now, the flesh and bone burned away by felfire from the knee down. Sergeant Orman Haley of the Stormwind City Guard.
“Ah, morning Steelhammer.” he replied, looking over the reports he’d gotten in. He tried to keep the easier jobs for her, if only because she was a new recruit and new to knighthood too. No point in risking the life of Dareley’s… daughter of sorts… with anything seriously dangerous. (Dareley had tried to explain it to him, and Orman had asked him to stop after his head started to hurt.)
“Hm… would be grateful if you could patrol the Trade District for us today. Been getting reports of thefts from a few of the grocers who work out of there. Mostly the butchers and wholesalers who sell produce… they’ve been avoiding Trias’ shop, which shows that this one is probably a local, or at least knew enough to ask the local troublemakers who to stay away from.” he nodded. Elling Trias was a cheese monger… officially. His shop only got robbed very rarely, and on those occasions the thieves either turned themselves in at the Command Center, usually in a state of extreme distress… or they just never turned up at all.
She nodded, “Hm… aye I can look inta it. Can’t be havin’ some troublemaker nickin’ food with everythin’ else going on.” she replied, saluting him again before turning and leaving, then heading towards the Trade District.
Patrolling the Trade District was difficult at best, however. It was easily the busiest part of the city during the day. Carts rumbled along the cobblestones, barkers hocked their wares, the taverns were full of travelling merchants and farmers bringing in their harvests or livestock, the sheer noise of it all could deafen a person, and made it far harder to spot someone causing problems unless they were big enough to draw the attention of the crowd.
Yvain walked through the city in a slow, relaxed manner as the day went on, taking her time and taking in what was around her. Her father had taught her that trick, how to move so that your own motion pushed you along. He’d been a guardsman before he joined the Ironforge Military as a young dwarf and some tricks you never really forgot. Move your legs just right and you could go all day. Guardsmen didn’t want to move too fast. They might miss something important.
There were a few moments of excitement, however. She had to break up a dispute between a grocer and a wholesaler over payment for goods, the dwarf holding them apart while a runner went up to the castle to get a clerk to help settle the matter.
She had to chase down a pickpocket who nabbed the purse of a noblewoman and got some help from a rather large Kul’tirian warrior who had stopped into the city to pick up a specially ordered spear before returning to Khaz Algar. The pickpocket had tried to shove his way past him and earned a vicious right hook that had him unconscious for ten minutes solid, more than long enough to drag him to the stockade by the scruff of his neck.
Of course there was the occasional case of drunkenness too. With the threat of Xal’atath looming over Azeroth some citizens had taken to steeling themselves with the old ‘liquid courage,’ and Yvain had to calmly explain to a couple young men that being too inebriated to be able to say their own names when asked wasn’t going to make them any safer, especially when they started walking into walls.
When that didn’t work, she smacked them around the ears and tossed them in a cell to sober up, the guard sending them back home once they could remember how to get there.
Eventually the evening wore on and finally night came. Yvain yawned as a guardsman walked past her with a ladder and a box of matches to light the lamps along the path through the city. The gnomes had offered to install their own electric lamps… but the plan had stalled when they realized there was no way to power them for the entire city. Waterwheels were out (nowhere to build them) as was wind power (the forest was too thick and Westfall too far.) Nuclear power had been suggested but quickly shot down. Nobody wanted another Mekkatorque incident. That resource would remain unused until they could implement a version with a LOT more safety features.
She checked the time on a pocket watch she’d picked up from an engineering shop in town, then nodded and turned to head back to the Command Center… and as she did, she heard something down one of the back alleys.
It was dark back there, but she was a dwarf. Growing up inside Ironforge Mountain meant she had very good low light vision. Amid the shadows under the buildings was an oddly shaped darker patch of shadow, moving and twitching every few moments, and a faint scraping and clicking sound…
Yvain narrowed her eyes, then started to march towards the shape. She didn’t bother with stealth. She was wearing full armor after all. Nobody will move quietly in plate mail!
The shadow paused, going very still… until Yvain raised her hand and held it palm outwards. “Who goes there?! In th’ name o’ th’ Light show yerself!” she commanded, and the palm of her hand lit up like a torch, a burst of illumination lighting up the entire alleyway.
Hunched by the backdoor of one of the shops was a cloaked figure, a pair of what looked like old nails in their hands jammed into the lock on the door.
“SHIT!” they shouted, then the cloaked man dropped the nails with a clatter on the cobbles and jumped to their feet, turning and running away!
“STOP!” she shouted, immediately giving chase, her armor clattering loudly as she thundered after the fleeing thief!
The cloaked man was fast, but Yvain had learned a lot about Stormwind’s layout in her time with the guard, the dwarf woman grinning as she let him jog further ahead, then ducked down an alleyway between two buildings. She ran out the other side, then along the front. The back alley was a waterway on one side, nowhere for him to go but in the river and no other buildings save for businesses. The owners of said shops tended to live above them, treating their shop as both home and business, so he’d only have one way to come.
She got to the far end of an alleyway, then waited until she heard a man’s voice panting from exertion and the sound of feet on the cobblestones.
She smirked, waiting next to a wall, and then she held her arm out suddenly.
The thief burst from the alleyway, Yvain’s armor-clad arm catching them right in the midsection and knocking the wind out of them. They collapsed onto the ground, gasping and clutching at their stomach.
Yvain smirked, unsheathing her hammer. “Alright lad, care ta tell me why ye were tryin’ ta pick th’ lock on that door? I dunnae suppose ye just mislaid yer key did ye?” she asked, resting the hammer on her shoulder.
The man looked up at her, whimpering as he tried to scoot away, but Yvain reached down and grabbed him by the front of his tunic. “Ah ah! Ain’t goin’ anywhere but th’ stockades lad…” she nodded.
“N-no! Please! They’ll kill me!” he protested, shaking his head as he held up his hands… and as he did Yvain noticed that his arms and hands were extremely skinny, almost skeletal, with strange scars on them… the kind of scars one might see on a victim of a skin disease.
“Oh? ‘n why’ll they do that?” she asked as the man struggled, then with a sudden yelp his tunic ripped and he fell backwards onto the ground!
Yvain jumped a bit in surprise. She hadn’t tugged on it or anything, but then she realized that the tunic was extremely worn, almost rotten in spots… and then she looked down and raised her hand again, lighting up the area, and got a good look at the thief.
They were extremely thin, and their body looked downright sickly and unhealthy. One of their eyes was clouded with cataracts and several of their teeth were missing. Their hair was just a few wispy stalks of grey, and on their left shoulder was a brand.
It was burned right onto their skin, a skull surrounded by a black sunburst emblem… she’d seen it before. Posted in the Command Center was a list of known symbols for various organizations known across Azeroth that would do such to their members. Both to ensure that they could recognize one of their own, and to ensure that leaving the group would be a very poor idea.
“… that’s th’ symbol o’ th’ Cult of the Damned…” she whispered, her eyes widening in shock. The Cult of the Damned had been the living servants of the Scourge, those who had willingly sided with Kel’thuzad early on and, later, Arthas Menethil when he was the Lich King.
Yvain’s eyes narrowed as she raised her hammer, the runes on it glowing with the power of the light, and the cultist threw their arms over their head and cried out, “MERCY! Please! Mercy! I’m no cultist! Not anymore!” he insisted.
Yvain growled, remembering her father’s words from when she was younger. Even if they professed to be repentant, such magics would scar the soul and blacken it forever…
… but she hesitated, remembering her father’s words here as well. Words of how both a death knight and one of the forsaken were his allies, who were just trying to make the best of what they had.
Words of Alonsus Faol, the former Archbishop, now an undead man ministering to the forsaken who would seek his guidance.
She gritted her teeth, her hammer raised as the thief whimpered in terror, shielding his eyes from the glow of the hammer.
Finally, she asked, “What do ye mean ‘not anymore?’” she asked, glaring at him.
The thief lowered his arms, blinking up at her. “I… I was one of the Cult of the Damned, aye… but that was years ‘n years ago yer ladyship.” he nodded. “I… I was a young man in Lordaeron before the country fell… me mum had died of illness the year afore ‘n my dad took his own life, unable ta live without her. I was always a terrible farmer ‘n without ‘em I couldn’t feed myself… I nearly starved, ‘n I was afraid of dying… but then I met a man at a tavern who told me about a group who was working on… transcendin’ death. Going beyond it…” he nodded.
She frowned, lowering her hammer slightly, but only slightly. “Go on…” she grunted.
The thief shuddered at the memory, shaking his head. “It was lies, all lies. They branded me ‘n told me I was part of the cult ‘n if I told anyone they’d kill me dead. They made me cart grain to Andorhol that they’d tampered with… ‘n when I saw what it did… I…” he let out a low keening sound, his eyes filling with tears, “I… I couldn’t bear it! I fled Andorhol as far as I could go! I kept going south… kept expecting a dagger in my back… but they never found me, or maybe they just never cared to come lookin…” he sighed miserably. “But… nobody will hire me, I got no skills, ‘n the plagued grain… it sickened me ‘n made me like this. People can’t bear ta even look at me! Its steal or starve… I ain’t proud of it, but that’s what it is.” he nodded, his eyes watery now.
Yvain watched him, her eyes narrowed, but… she couldn’t imagine this man as a threat, as some horrible necromancer or sorcerer. Surely, he would have turned his powers on her rather than running away, wouldn’t he?
She lowered her hammer, looking around, but the streets were empty this late. She could turn him in, drag him to the command center and throw him before the Sergeant, some would even call it her duty to Stormwind and the Alliance.
But as she looked down at the former cultist, the man weeping as if all his sins had finally caught up to him and it was all over save for the screaming, she remembered Alonsus’ words.
Remember the tenants of our Order, Yvain Steelhammer. Retribution, Holiness, Protection, Justice… and Compassion. The last one gets forgotten far too often…
Her father, her actual father who had raised her would say that this would be where retribution and justice would come in. He was a member of the Cult of the Damned. Circumstances don’t matter. His actions aided the enemies of the Light. Take her hammer and be done with it.
But then there was this world’s Dareley… who had shown her that even those who had been touched by such forces weren’t automatically villains and monsters… and even the great and the good could fall from grace.
The man flinched as he heard a sound come from Yvain, then there was a clanking sound on the cobbles. He looked down to see a leather pouch there, full of coins.
“There’s ‘bout four gold ‘n change there. Ain’t much, but it’ll at least keep ye goin’ fer a while.” she nodded, “But… th’ Guard is lookin’ fer a thief. Ye need ta leave Stormwind.” she added meaningfully.
The former cultist looked up at her, his one good eye looking over her face in disbelief. “You’re… lettin’ me go?” he whispered.
Yvain took a deep breath, “Aye… but first…” she nodded and slid her hammer back into its holder, then reached out and grabbed one shoulder firmly, her other hand suddenly glowing like a bonfire. “Brace yerself, this will hurt.” she nodded, then slammed her hand down over the mark of the Cult on his shoulder!
The man’s eyes bulged as he bit his lip hard, trying not to scream as steam rose from his shoulder, his eyes streaming as he kicked reflexively, but the paladin would not let him go!
Eventually she did withdraw her hand, and he looked at his shoulder to see a bright red burn mark… but no other marks. She’d used the light to sear away the symbol of the cult.
“There.” she nodded, stepping to the side. “Now take th’ money ‘n bugger off before I change me mind.”
The thief felt gingerly over his shoulder, hissing at how tender the skin was, then he nodded and snatched up the pouch. “T-thank you, thank you…” he whispered, “You’re a saint, lady… a real holy woman…” he nodded, then he turned and ran for the gates of the city out into the night.
Yvain sighed, still looking conflicted as he went. If he did revert to his old ways, if he killed anyone, their blood would be on her hands as well… and yet… he didn’t feel like a murderer.
True the plagued grain he’d carted had likely killed many in Andorhol, and possibly Stratholme and the other townships of Lordaeron… but… could she really blame a cart driver when they had a dagger to their neck?
Her father would say yes. That the cart driver should have refused even in the face of death. That even though he just carted the grain, likely without even being told why he was doing it, that every death it caused was his fault as much as Kel’thuzad’s.
Her father would say no. That he was just some poor sod who’d gotten caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and was tricked by those who had tricked far wiser men than a simple farmer’s son.
Yvain shook her head. One father would be proud, the other disappointed. The worst part was they were both the same man.
“Bloody time travel…” she grumbled, making her way back through the city towards the Command Center to sign out for the night, and then likely a trip to the cathedral before returning to Avalon House.
She and the Light needed to have a few words. She doubted she’d get any clear answers, but… it still helped.
Edwood sat in a booth in the inn alone, grumbling to himself as he nursed the contents of his hip flask. Being a forsaken meant most normal drinks would do nothing for him whatsoever, so he used his alchemical skills to create his own personal mixtures. These sorts of drinks wouldn’t be classified as drinks by most living races, maybe as paint thinner or perhaps a weaker kind of acid, not something you’d want to put in your body in any case… but the forsaken by and large had unusual tastes.
Really, they had almost no sense of taste whatsoever and needed the flavors to be ludicrously strong to taste anything at all.
As he sat there, he became aware of a presence in the booth behind him, then heard a blood elf’s voice. There was a definite dead quality to the tone though, a sort of flatness that the undead would have sometimes.
“Did you speak with Lor’themar?” asked the voice.
Edwood sighed, “Aye Sinranir, I did.” replied the forsaken man. “Soon as we got back from th’ Siren Isle me, Mola, ‘n Voss parleyed with ‘im… ‘n he said he ain’t doin’ shite.”
“What?” asked the darkfallen in shock, “But… she’s using…” he began as Edwood waved a hand, glancing around the bar.
It was very late at night and the bar was mostly empty save for a few other forsaken, a night elf couple, and a death knight leaning against the wall in the corner. Those who were nocturnal by nature, or who just didn’t sleep at all.
“Aye, I know. His reasoning is that we gotta be ready fer Xal’atath to get up to some shite ‘n we need all hands on deck fer it. He said that he’d look inta it once we deal with th’ Harbinger… assuming she doesn’t win ‘n blow us all straight to th’ Maw or somethin’… but until then, he needs all th’ bloody magisters, even her…” he growled, the felfire flickering in his eyes as he felt his guts clench in frustration.
“… I… I mean I understand that logic but… if word did get out somehow, if another forsaken were to recognize whats been done to me…” stammered Sinranir. If another forsaken recognized it and worked out who had done it, it would be chaos.
Both the forsaken and the sin’dorei hated and feared anyone who used Scourgecraft, and with good reason. The population of Quel’thalas had been decimated by the Scourge, nearly wiped out during the Third War, and it had been made possibly by one of their own turning traitor and telling Arthas how to invade their lands. The rogue elf Dar’Khan Drathir, who sided with the Scourge and became a necromancer in their service.
The forsaken, well their reason was obvious. Except for those who had been raised during the Cataclysm by Sylvannas and her Val’kyr, which was a rather small percentage, every forsaken had been enslaved by the Lich King during the earliest days of their unlives.
Sinranir was no fool, he wanted his freedom desperately, but it had to happen in the right way. The crimes of Alalestria Wintersky had to be revealed in such a way to make it clear that it was the actions of a rogue magister acting alone, especially now with tensions so high from the war.
If it wasn’t, if a forsaken recognized the marks on him and found out that one of the sin’dorei was practicing Scourgecraft without context… it could spark panic. The forsaken could fear that a cabal of elves were practicing necromancy and would try to drag them back into servitude, the sin’dorei might well fear that the magisters were preparing to do the same to them. It would be the exact kind of situation that a being like Xal’atath could manipulate to her own ends, being a creature of the Void and able to use negative emotions and thoughts like a weapon in their own right.
“Aye… Voss said she’d try to convince him otherwise, but she’s got her own hands full with whats goin’ on.” grumbled Edwood, taking another pull from his flask, then frowning and turning it upside down. A tiny droplet that was a violent shade of purple dribbled out onto the table, hissing where it landed, but no more. “Bugger, need to make more now…”
Sinranir nodded, “Yes… well… thank you for trying Darkcaster.” replied the elf, getting to his feet and quickly making his way out into the city. He seemed calm to passerby, another adventurer with weapons ready looking for mercenary work, but his hands were clenched into fists under the long black travelling cloak. He wanted this to end! He wanted to be free of Alalestria’s binding spell, he wanted to be able to choose his fate whether that meant joining the forsaken as an undead himself or finding some way to embrace true death and return to the Shadowlands for what would come after.
But the spell would only be broken either by Alalestria dispelling it (extremely unlikely unless she was forced to do so,) by a more powerful mage overpowering and removing her spell (also unlikely, Alalestria was a magister of Quel’thalas and there were very few mages stronger than she was,) or by her death.
He stopped, blinking slowly.
Could it be that simple?
He fingered the hilt of his dagger. It was late at night, Alalestria would likely be asleep… and while he was under a compulsion to bring no harm to the Head of House Wintersky and their chosen heir… well that had been the geas her father Danaforth had placed on him, the one that his death had broken.
Alalestria had bound him with chains of domination, but… did she cover all her bases? She was an arcane spellcaster, not a necromancer… she had done necromancy, but she hardly specialized in it. He grinned, sharply as a knife, and slowly drew one of his daggers, checking the edge. Perhaps it was time he paid her ladyship a late-night visit…
He glanced around, quickly sheathing the dagger, then ducked into the shadows of an alleyway. He had to do this quickly and quietly. It was a major risk… but it might be alright. Lor’themar may well decide to cover up an assassination rather than let the news bring panic to the Horde, and the Lord Reagent may well even realize who the culprit was after Edwood had told him of his bondage. It wasn’t like there was another heir to demand an investigation. House Wintersky would simply cease to exist and that would be that.
He took out a grappling hook, then a few moments later he was a shadow on the rooftops of Dornogal, making his way back to the Horde embassy. From rooftop to rooftop, along the sides of the mountains, the assassin went with murder on his mind.
Finally, he made it to a window higher up on the building that made up the embassy hall, cut into the mountainside itself as much of the building was inside of the mountain and slipped in as quiet as a whisper.
There, lying on the bed asleep, was the one who had raised him as a darkfallen, who had bound him into servitude, all for her mad campaign against her sister. Sinranir drew his dagger from its sheath, ensuring that the venom he had coated the blade with was fresh, and crept forward slowly, carefully so that his feet made no sound on the stone floor, until he was right next to her.
He raised his dagger high above his head, the blade glistening in the moonlight… just one quick stab to the throat and he would have his freedom, his glowing red eyes narrowed as he took aim and…
Pain. Sheer agony lanced along every nerve of his body! His mouth fell open but no sound came out, his vocal chords paralyzed by the sudden onslaught! His dagger fell to the floor with a loud clattering sound as he fell to his knees, then forward onto his hands as well.
“I was wondering when you might try this Sinranir…” came an icy voice. Alalestria was sitting up in her bed, a long pale blue gown covering her frame as she raised her hand and flexed her fingers.
Sinranir was knocked onto his back by a lance of torment as every nerve in his body ignited at once, the magister standing up as she glared down at him.
“Do you truly think I did not consider this? I was raising my assassin from the dead. I knew without father’s geas you could turn on me.” she frowned at him, “Attempt to harm me, directly or indirectly, and the spell will activate even if I am unaware of the attempt. You are my blade Sinranir, you will point your daggers where I command and nowhere else.”
Sinranir’s eyes were clenched shut, his jaw working as he tried to speak, but he couldn’t! His whole body convulsed as she invoked the power of the chains of domination, the spell leaving him completely helpless to stop her!
She kept it up a moment longer, then relaxed her fingers. He gasped loudly, his eyes flying open as he lay there, his limbs spread eagled on the ground.
“Before you get any ideas Sinranir… the spell has a failsafe. If you think you can fight through it and kill me even with the spell active know this. Should I die by your hand that pain, that suffering you just endured, will begin and will not stop. You will be trapped like that for the remainder of your unlife.” she nodded firmly, her icy blue eyes focused on the undead man. “Now, pick up your dagger and leave my chambers. I have a busy day tomorrow and I wish to be rested for it.”
Slowly, Sinranir rose and took up his dagger, stuffing it back in the sheathe as he glared at her. Nothing but raw hatred was in his expression, but he didn’t dare attack now… not now that he knew this. He turned on his heel, then stalked to the door out of the room.
“… as you wish, Lady Wintersky…” he hissed. If the venom in his voice was a real toxin, Alalestria would have been a pile of bones.
Meanwhile, in the Twisting Nether…
Floating in the nether was an island, and on that island was an arena similar to an old Roman Coliseum. A huge circular building with raised seating around a circular area for combatants to fight each other.
The arena was alive with roars and cheers as the assembled watched the battlefield below as the combatants faced off. A warlock had come seeking patronage of the arena’s master, and the demon was itching for a fight. Lining the stands were demons of all shapes and sizes, but the majority of them were felguards, their cheers the loudest among the demonic audience.
Standing in one corner was what at first glance looked like a felguard, but a giant of one. He stood almost twenty feet tall, wearing blackened armor on his lower half, his torso unarmored to allow him greater freedom with his weapon, a battleaxe capable of cutting down entire trees in a single slice that cried out with the pain of the souls forged into the blade with each swing. An Overlord, one of the former commanders of the felguard companies of the Burning Legion before the defeat of Sargeras.
Standing opposite him was a wrathguard. The purple brute was shorter, and his axe was just a normal axe. He growled and raised his weapon, roaring a challenge at the Overlord.
The demonic giant grinned, then charged as the wrathguard did likewise, the smaller demon proving a cunning opponent. He was very small compared to the Overlord, but he used his lack of height to his advantage, darting around the Overlords legs and even between them to prevent him from bringing the axe to bear against him.
The Overlord was impressed, most wrathguards weren’t ones for tactics… the demons more known for relentless slaughter. Every time he fought one they would charge in blindly, trusting in their own strength and weapons, and more often than not wind up in pieces because of it.
Finally, he saw an opening and raised his axe, slamming it down with a roar… but the wrathguard leapt aside at the last moment and with a swish of steel his own axe bit into the Overlord’s arm. The demon roared in pain and stumbled back, his hand going to the wound, then examining the injury and nodding.
“Hm… your warlock chose her champion well Az’arad…” he growled, straightening up as the crowd roared around them. “FIRST BLOOD GOES TO THE WARLOCK AND HER CHAMPION! By the laws of the arena, she may claim her boon!”
That was the rule of the arena. They fought to first blood and if they won, they could claim a boon of the Overlord. If the Overlord drew first blood, then that boon would usually be a new trophy. Lining the walls of the arena were wooden spikes, each one with the head of a former challenger.
The gate at the far end of the arena opened and a small creature walked out. A goblin woman with purple hair and red eyes. She looked up at the overlord and nodded, “I want you. You don’t have to come with us permanently, but you’ll come when I call ‘n smash my enemies to bits with that axe of yours.” she replied.
The Overlord nodded, narrowing his eyes… but thus were the laws of the arena. If a boon was in his power to grant and the challenger had earned that right, he must give that boon. To do otherwise would mark him as weak, an unforgivable sin in the eyes of demonkind.
“Very well…” he nodded, pulling off his gauntlet and dropping it to the ground with a loud crash, then running his hand along the edge of his blade. Green acidic felblood swelled up in the wound as he knelt, holding out his hand to her. “I, Vezraz, former Commander of the Armies of Sargeras, bind myself to you warlock.” he nodded.
She held out her hand and drew a dagger along the skin, then put her hand against his, the tiny goblin hand easily engulfed by the Overlord, and recited her half of the pledge… and with the burning sensation of felblood in her veins the pact was sealed.
The Glittering Prize, Two Weeks After Jastor Gallywix’s Defeat
Grimo paced up and down the deck, sucking on his cigar like he had a grudge against it. The goblin was not in a good mood despite his former boss not only getting dethroned but crushed to death under his own machinery. The Dark Heart was missing and in the hands of an unknown quantity. Nobody knew where the magical artifact had gotten to, only that it was in the hands of a cabal of ethereals.
He had been present when one of their agents had stolen it right out of Jastor’s hand before vanishing to parts unknown. Word was that Alleria was searching for any hint of the ethereals she could find but so far, the search was coming up empty.
Given that several witnesses at the Gallajio’s siege had seen Jastor talking to Xal’atath before the Harbinger vanished after yelling at him, it was a safe bet that she didn’t have the Dark Heart, which meant that Samantha’s guess was right. The ethereals were not her allies.
That could be either very good, or very very bad. It all depended on two questions.
Who were these ethereals?
What were they going to do with the Dark Heart?
Right now, they were unknown. Nobody knew who they were, where they were, or why they stole the Dark Heart. Were they friends? Were they foes? The leaders of the Alliance and Horde desperately wanted answers to those questions… but so far, nothing.
Grimo burned down the last couple centimeters of the cigar, then flicked it overboard into the ocean. “Fuckin’ fel… we can’t get a damn break…” he sighed, walking back down to his workshop. He’d been trying to make a tool for detecting void energy signatures using the same principles as the watch that had unmasked Cenoon in the Undermine, but he’d run into the same roadblock. Specific signatures required something of what he was trying to trace… and that meant he’d need the Dark Heart itself to track it down… and if he had it, well that defeated the purpose of the invention now didn’t it?
Grimo slumped down into the chair at his workbench, rubbed his temples, and tried to think. He was an engineer, he was an inventor, what could he do to help in this situation?
But nothing came to him, no flash of insight or inspiration… the goblin let out a long sigh, then slammed his fist against the table in frustration.
Nothing to do but wait…
Durotar, Just Outside the Gates of Orgrimmar
Zato and Eeda peeked out from behind a boulder, looking back at the gates as their ears perked up. Zato’s bow was strung and ready and, slung across his back, was a quiver of a dozen arrows he’d managed to get together. Trainee hunters weren’t supposed to have ammunition yet, but nobody was as resourceful at scrounging as a vulpera. “I don’t see ma or da…” he whispered to his sister.
Eeda was wearing her black silk martial arts costume. She had no weapons, or rather she had two, but those two were at the end of each arm. She was training to be a monk, and that meant she fought with her fists more than anything. “Me neither Zato…” she grinned, then slipped out the bill she’d swiped off the Warchief’s Command board next to Warsong Hold.
It was a bit of a joke these days as the Horde no longer had a warchief, but the board had been called that since they had begun using one and the name had stuck. A place for those who needed help to post ads requesting the aid of mercenaries, adventurers, or whoever was willing to lend a hand or a blade. Whether that meant help with a busy harvest season on a farm or help killing a flock of harpy stealing livestock this was where those went.
Eeda unfolded it, then read it slowly. Their sister Leza had been giving them some reading lessons when she could, and she was picking it up well enough… but it was hard to get the energetic twins to pay attention to anything for very long unless it was something they found exciting, and this was very exciting.
Livestock Gone Missing
I work at a pig farm in northern Durotar and my pigs have been disappearing at night. The last one put up a fight and part of it was left behind. I think its some kind of beast, but I’m not sure.
I request the aid of any willing to investigate and put down whatever is stealing my pigs. That meat is meant for the Horde, not some damn raptor!
Reward: ten gold for proof of the beast’s death, double if any of my pigs survived and are returned to me.
Seek out Grug’thor at the farm nearest the river.
The twins had no intention of seeking him out immediately, after all he’d likely turn them away or tell them to go back to their parents. While eager vulpera, they were both still very young. Twelve years old now, having only just begun their training a month prior.
Eeda smirked, “Just a dumb raptor, we can take ‘im right Zato?” she asked, nodding to her brother.
Zato grinned, holding up his bow. “I got three bullseyes last training, I can hit a big yippin’ lizard easy!” he replied, “Just keep ‘im busy while I’m aimin’ sis.”
The twins nodded to each other, then scampered away into the dusty fields of Durotar in search of their quarry. They found the farm easily enough, and evidence of the thefts. The fence was damaged and recently repaired, that much was obvious from how new part of it looked compared to the rest.
Zato looked around, then pointed at the ground nearby. There had been rain the night before, and the culprit had left prints in the softened dirt leading off southward along the river. “There!” he yipped, jogging over to it as his sister followed. “Hakali taught us how to spot stuffs… ‘n soft rainy dirt is great for footprints… but…” he leaned in, feeling over it gently with his fingertips. “This ain’t a raptor Eeda… its th’ wrong shape. This is more like a yeena’s paw… but… different.” he nodded.
Eeda shrugged, “Eh. Yeena, raptor, whatever… They won’t be able ta hit me! I danced circles around th’ other kids last sparring night!” she nodded confidently. Vulpera were, by and large, very agile already, and their smaller bodies made them harder to hit in a fight. Her opponents had been two orcish boys, both of which weren’t really taking well to the idea of martial arts.
They were plenty strong, but they were hotheaded kids and Eeda had managed to goad them both into ignoring their training and charging in for a brawl rather than using the skills their teacher had been trying to get them to learn. From there her natural agility as a vulpera meant the two boys never laid a finger on her, but she was able to score several blows on each.
The two nodded to each other again, then began to follow the paw prints southwards, towards the road out of the barrens. It had been called the floodplain for several years following the Cataclysm, when the river had broken its banks and flooded part of Durotar following the chaos unleashed by Deathwing’s return, but the waters had eventually receded and the dusty red ground had returned to normal.
Unfortunately for Zato and Eeda, that made the going more difficult. Rain was rare in Durotar, and the ground would dry and harden again quickly. Zato looked around as they drew closer to the path to the Barrens, but the pawprints they’d been following were gone.
“Ah yip… now what do we do?” he huffed, folding his arms over his chest in annoyance, one ear flicking as he tried to remember the rest of that lesson. He’d wanted to pay attention, but there’d been this one tauren kid who kept teasing him and well it made it hard to focus. It wasn’t a bad kind of teasing, at least it didn’t feel bad, but he was only just getting at that age when young vulpera began to realize certain things and it had been quite the distraction.
Eeda grinned, giggling at her brother’s blush through his fur. She could guess what he was thinking about. He’d mentioned someone at the training he’d liked… “C’mon Zato…” she nodded, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder, “Hakali had ta have taught ya other tricks! No paw prints, what do we do?”
Zato stumbled, then frowned and closed his eyes, “Ummm… okay, so… he told us th’ four big ways ta track are… sight… sound… smell… ‘n spoor…”
Eeda nodded, then looked around the area, then jabbed him in the side with an elbow, “Hey! Lookit that!” she yipped.
Zato’s eyes popped open and he looked out, then saw some objects near the cliffs… small bones. Fresh ones.
The twins jogged over to them and Zato picked up a skull, looking over the teeth. “… ‘s got tusks, but too small ta be a wild boar. This must be one of th’ pigs!” he nodded, grinning, “Good job Eeda!”
The vulpera girl smirked, her tail swishing behind her as she shook out her arms, “Okay! So th’ thief gotta be in this cave!” she smirked, then her ears perked up. “Uh… Zato… I hear somethin’ comin’!” she eeped, taking a step back.
Zato immediately took his bow off his back and nocked an arrow on it, readying himself as he aimed into the gloom of the cave... and a low growl came from it in response.
“Uh… that don’t sound like a yeena or a raptor…” pointed out Eeda.
Zato shook his head, “Y-yeah… it sounds more like… uh…” he swallowed, and remembered Hakali introducing the class to his hunting partner. They were old and retired like he was now, but they were a massive creature big enough for the smaller kids to ride on if they wanted to.
The creature in question was a huge mountain lion native to the nearby Barrens. Nobody had wanted to ride it.
A moment later a large feline shape stalked out of the cave, its eyes narrowed and its lips drawn back in a snarl. It was indeed a Barrens lion, but unlike Hakali’s elderly beast this one was much younger, and looked very hungry.
“Oh yip…” whispered Zato as he aimed his bow, the string quivering as he tried to hold the arrow steady.
Eeda slipped into the tiger stance, raising her hands. “Uh… um… m-maybe we should run?” she whispered.
But they couldn’t run, the sight of the beast had the two kits frozen! The lion was stalking towards them, growling progressively louder with each step at the intruders who had entered its territory…
It was a question of who would blink first.
It was Zato.
The vulpera boy yelped as it drew near and his fingers slipped, the bowstring twanging loudly as the arrow flew towards the mountain lion, barely missing its head! In response the animal roared a challenge and charged towards the two!
“LOOK OUT!” yelped Eeda as she dove and rolled to the side, Zato turning and racing in the opposite direction as the lion pounced down where they’d been, knocking up a huge cloud of red Durotar dust!
Zato turned and fumbled with his quiver, trying to grab another arrow as the lion turned towards him and snarled, baring its fangs which now seemed oh so big to the young boy… but before it could move there was a loud shriek and a tiny fist slammed into the lion’s side as Eeda darted into view and landed a quick combo to the huge creature’s ribcage. Two firm Tiger Palm Strikes followed by a spinning Blackout Kick to its upper thigh.
The mountain lion didn’t even flinch, but it did turn towards her and raise one huge paw, its claws aimed towards her head!
“SIS! RUN!” shouted Zato as he finally managed to get an arrow in place and let fly! The arrow sailed through the air and with a satisfying thunk and a yowl of pain it buried itself in the lion’s side!
“GOT YA!” yipped the vulpera boy… then the lion turned to him again and charged! That had hurt it, and now it saw Zato as a threat instead of a meal! It was a blur of muscles and fur, racing across the field towards him!
“NO! ZATO LOOK OUT!” yelled Eeda as she ran after it, trying to do… well… anything! Her martial arts hadn’t done more than annoy it and now it was charging towards her brother!
But for all her vulpera speed, this was a wild animal that grew up on the Barrens. It was bred for running across the flat savanna, and it was easily faster than some vulpera kit! Zato readied another arrow and tried to take aim, but in what felt like an eyeblink the lion was on top of him and with one huge swipe of its paw Zato went flying into the nearby rocks with a scream of pain!
“ZATO!” shrieked Eeda, and the sight of her brother going down pushed her onwards. As the lion moved in for the kill, she grabbed its tail in her hands and bit down as hard as she could!
The mountain lion roared in fury and spun to face her, but Eeda wasn’t letting go! She spun with it, winding up behind it as the lion spun again and again, trying to shake the vulpera loose!
Finally, the spinning brought it close to another outcropping of rocks and it smacked her into them! Eeda flew free of its tail with a gasp, landing on the ground and wincing as she tried to stand. She could feel a bruise forming, but she ignored it. She had to get to Zato!
But the mountain lion was between her and her brother, and she couldn’t fight something that big. Eeda’s ears folded back as she whimpered, wishing her big sisters were here…
… fortunately for her, someone else was there.
There was a flash of steel and the mountain lion leapt away with a roar as a pair of pandaren women appeared, each holding a long two-handed sword. One was a younger woman wearing lighter armor and wielding a sword with a wavy blade embossed with the image of a cloud serpent in flight, a pink silken scarf around her neck.
The other was an older woman in black robes, her own sword a straight edged katana-like blade that looked like it had seen a lot of use.
Xhu Pai Bao and Hye-Soo Grandclaw stared down the mountain lion, both women ready for a fight! “Xhu, see to the kits! I’ll deal with him!” nodded Hye-Soo.
“Right!” replied her student, falling back and grabbing Eeda’s hand, then running towards the fallen form of Zato.
Risala had come to Xhu Pai in Orgrimmar in a panic, stating one of the vulpera from their caravan had seen Zato and Eeda leaving Orgrimmar with a hunt bill in Eeda’s hands. She couldn’t go looking for them, she wasn’t a warrior, but Xhu was and she knew another one who might be better at finding out where they went. They had been having difficulty, until they heard the sounds of a fight, and Zato’s scream.
Hye-Soo smirked at the lion, holding her sword ready. “Well pussycat? What’s it going to be? Am I getting a new cloak or are you getting a meal?” she nodded.
The lion snarled, blood seeping into its fur from where their swords had bitten into it… and then it leapt, its claws held out as it made to pounce on her.
Hye-Soo ducked to the side and ran forward, holding her sword out… and split the underside of the mountain lion from throat to groin in one swift strike!
The lion fell to the ground in a heap, its blood and viscera steaming under the unforgiving sun of Durotar as the light faded in its eyes.
Hye-Soo flicked the blood from her blade and nodded, “Cloak it is then.”
Then she looked up at the sound of Xhu Pai’s voice.
“Master Hye-Soo! Its Zato! He’s hurt!” she called, kneeling next to the vulpera boy. Her eyes were wide and scared.
Eeda was there as well, her hands gripping her brother’s shoulders. “Zato! Wake up! Please!” she cried as Hye-Soo ran over and knelt down next to them.
The older swordswoman looked down, then hissed through her teeth. “That’s… bad. Really bad.” she whispered.
The mountain lion’s claws had dug deep into Zato’s side when they hit him and sliced through skin and muscle. He had bled a lot already, and his breathing was shallow. He’d hit his head on the boulder as well, and his eyes were unfocused.
“No no no…” whimpered Eeda, “Zato no… please no…” she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at her brother’s limp form.
Zato barely heard it. He remembered feeling a lot of pain, then everything felt so far away… he was suddenly so tired…
“He’s blacking out… Xhu. Bandages, or cloth. Something to staunch the bleeding! FAST DAMMIT!” commanded Hye-Soo.
“I… I don’t have anything Master!” she insisted, shaking her head, the younger pandaren unable to take her eyes away from the horrible wound in Zato’s side.
“The fel you don’t!” snarled the older pandaren as she grabbed her scarf and ripped it off her neck!
“HEY! THAT’S-…” she protested but stopped as Hye-Soo slapped her hard across the face.
“Whats more important student?! Your precious memories or the boy’s life?!” demanded Hye-Soo before immediately pushing the scarf against Zato’s side, the pink silk quickly turning a deep red.
Xhu Pai fell silent, unable to argue with that, then reached down and helped Hye-Soo put pressure on the wound.
“Shit… he’s bled so much already… we need to get him back to Orgrimmar, but we can’t move him!” swore Hye-Soo. She’d seen a lot of injuries in her life, and she knew how much punishment a body could take. Zato’s life was in danger!
“Zato… no… no no…” whispered Eeda, her yellow eyes meeting his own. They seemed so dark to her now, as if some spark in them was going out. “No… I can’t… I won’t…” she whispered, reaching out to him as her ears perked up, her eyes going wide. “I won’t let you… I won’t!” she insisted.
Xhu Pai reached out to push Eeda back, but Hye-Soo’s hand shot out, the older pandaren’s eyes wide. “Wait…” she whispered, “Is she…”
Orgrimmar, the Valley of Honor, the Huojin Encampment
There is a tradition among pandaren monks. The path of the Ox and the path of the Tiger are ones that anyone can learn potentially, after all anyone can learn to throw a punch… but there is one path that takes a special sort of mind, a connection to the energies of the world that other monks simply can’t master.
Those monks who follow this path will, by tradition, wind up with a special partner. A cloud serpent. Their serpent will hatch as soon as they find their path, it will simply know that its time has come to seek out the monk in question.
In the small shrine they had set up for the eggs, one of them suddenly cracked, and an eye peered out from inside.
Someone had found their path.
The path of the Serpent.
Durotar
Eeda barely noticed the two pandaren anymore, focused entirely on her brother. She felt as if something was flowing through her, some intangible force was being guided by her will and her hands from around her, through her arms, and into Zato’s body.
The vulpera boy shuddered, then coughed as his ears slowly raised up, “What… happened…” he whispered, blinking slowly as he tried and failed to sit up, then looked at his sister.
Eeda seemed to be in some sort of trance, her eyes wide and her ears straight up as she moved her arms like she was kneading a huge invisible piece of bread dough, reaching back, then pushing towards Zato. All around her body swirled an emerald green light, almost like a strange glowing fog bank, drawn from the air around her and down into Zato’s body. The more she did it, the smaller his injuries became.
“She’s mistweaving…” whispered Hye-Soo, the elder pandaren’s eyes wide, “The girl can use chi to heal…”
Xhu Pai was shocked by the sight too. Mistweavers were rare among monks. They had to find a connection to the chi of the world and those around them that other monks didn’t have. Not just to sense it and guide it as a weapon, but to weave it. To heal with it. Any monk could use chi as a weapon, but far fewer monks could do the opposite.
Eeda kept it up for several long moments, then she slumped back and shook herself, exhausted by the effort. “Is… is he okay?” she managed to ask.
Hye-Soo pulled back Xhu’s bloodstained scarf. The wounds were still there but scabbed over. They would need proper care back in Orgrimmar, but Zato’s was stable now. “He will be once we get you kids home.” she nodded.
Eeda nodded, smiling weakly. “Good… that’s good… that’s really… yippin’… good…” she replied, then she fell backwards and unconscious in that order, the stress and fear overwhelming her at last.
Hye-Soo chuckled, picking up Zato and nodding to Xhu Pai. “You carry her, I’ve got this one. I know a good shaman who helped me patch myself up a few times. They’ll set the boy right. Let their parents know I’ll have him home as soon as they’re done.”
Xhu nodded back and scooped up Eeda, then the two pandaren women began the trek back to the city. They parted ways at Warsong Hold, Hye-Soo carrying Zato towards the Valley of Wisdom while Xhu made her way back to the vulpera encampment in the Valley of Honor.
Several Hours Later
Eeda blinked slowly, laying on her bedroll inside the caravan wagon. It was evening now, the cool nighttime air drifting in through the flap in the leather covering of the wagon. “Home? When did I…” she murmured, sitting up slowly.
A shape darted in front of her, a pair of bright golden eyes met hers, and a voice hissed at her.
Eeda fell backwards with a yelp of surprise as the shape floated closer, then a forked tongue darted out and licked her snout. She sat up again and looked at what was there.
Hovering before her was a small green lizard-like creature. It had a long thin body and four small limbs, a mane of red hair coming from its head as well. It looked just like the thing on Xhu’s sword, just smaller.
“A cloud serpent?” she blinked as the creature let out a happy chittering sound and bumped its head against her cheek, then zipped around her shoulders and curled up there like a scale-covered scarf. “Uh… okay…” she giggled, getting to her feet and heading out of the wagon towards the campfire.
Seated there were Atu and Risala, and…
“ZATO!” she yipped, running over to him and hugging her brother tightly, then squatting down and looking at his side. The fur was missing from where the mountain lion had clawed him, but it was already starting to grow back. “How…”
“You, that’s how.” came a voice from the shadows past the campfire.
Hye-Soo Grandclaw walked into view, and next to her was a pandaren man in the loose clothes of a martial artist, and Eeda felt her heart sink. She immediately stood up, put her hands together and gave the pandaren man a bow, “M-master Chuwon… I um… I can explain…” she stammered.
Chuwon Wisestep was the acting headmaster of martial artists in Orgrimmar while Ji Firepaw was away in Khaz Algar. “Oh? I would love to hear it…” he replied, his tone suggesting that someone else already had, and he wasn’t happy about what he heard.
Zato gave her a sympathetic grin, “I already got chewed out by Hakali… Your turn I guess…”
Chuwon folded his arms over his chest, frowning down at Eeda, “Young lady, what you and your brother did today was both horribly irresponsible and incredibly dangerous! Thank the Celestials that Hye-Soo and her student arrived in time or you’d likely both be dead!” he barked. “You are barely two months into your training and still a child! You would be hard pressed to fight one of those farm pigs and win, never mind a mountain lion!”
She cringed, her ears folding back, “… a-are you gonna… um… not let me train anymore?” she asked, the girl sounding terrified. She’d been worried about that ever since she saw the mountain lion (in the back of her mind, behind the mind-numbing terror and realization of what she’d gotten herself and her brother into.)
“… no.” he replied, “Normally I would at least make you wait another year to train again… but… it seems fate has other things in mind…” he nodded, gesturing to the cloud serpent.
She looked at it, then back at him and cocked her head, “Huh?” she asked, clearly confused by this statement.
Chuwon continued, “Hye-Soo told me what happened Eeda. You healed your brother. You channeled pure chi energy into his wounds and saved his life. I can teach a monk the ferocity of the tiger or the tenacity of the ox… but a serpent monk… to deny one their path is forbidden.” he nodded.
She looked up in surprise, then looked at Zato, “I healed ya?” she asked.
Zato flicked his ear, “I don’t really remember it, Hye-Soo said I lost a lotta blood ‘n wasn’t really awake… but… yeah. I felt like I was falling away from, um, everything… but… I felt somethin’ warm, ‘n I heard your voice sis… ‘n then I woke up ‘n you were glowing ‘n all this stuff was movin’ round your arms ‘n into me… ‘n… yeah.”
“I don’t remember that. I just… I didn’t want ya to die… I… you’re my twin brother, losin’ ya would be like losin’ my yippin’ arm.” she stammered, looking at her hands and flicking her fingers as if trying to make the mists appear again.
Hye-Soo grinned, her pipe sticking out of her mouth. “If you need proof, check your eyes girl.” the pandaren woman nodded, taking out a small hand mirror from her robes and handing it over.
Eeda took it, then moved so the firelight would light her reflection and held the mirror up… then yipped in surprise.
Ever since she was born, she and her twin brother had the same eyes. Bright yellow like the sun in the skies above Vol’dun.
Now however… her eyes were green and had a faint glow to the color. Jade green.
Chuwon nodded, “The first time a monk weaves the mist like you have, it marks them. Their eyes are forever dyed by the act. Many monks develop jade eyes after years of training, but mistweaver eyes glow with the power of chi. I will not bar your training, but… I cannot train you further.” he sighed a bit.
“But… but I don’t wanna stop!” she yipped, almost dropping the mirror as her head snapped up.
Chuwon chuckled, “You won’t. I cannot train you because I lack the skill to do so. Take a few days and rest Eeda, you and your brother have been through an ordeal, even if it was of your own making.” he nodded meaningfully.
Eeda winced, then glanced at her parents. Atu nodded to her, and Risala… oh dear she saw that look before aimed at her older sisters. “Eep…” she whimpered.
Risala’s eyes narrowed, “That’s right Eeda, eep. You and your brother aren’t going to be going on any adventures for a WHILE.” she growled.
Chuwon smirked a bit, “That would be for the best… but yes, once you are ready, and not grounded, come to the training grounds and ask for Jie Zhong Freshpetal. She is a wise and learned mistweaver, and she can teach you where I cannot.”
She nodded, then glanced at the cloud serpent as it perked its head up. “Uh… what about…” she pointed to the lizard. The serpent cocked its head, then nibbled on her fingertip.
Chuwon laughed, “Every mistweaver, when they first awaken to their powers, will find a cloud serpent has been drawn to them. They are bonded for life, the serpent helping them channel their powers. He is yours and you are his, from this day onward.” he nodded.
Eeda looked at the serpent, her eyebrows raised. This was quite a lot to process for the young girl, and she was suddenly feeling a bit faint again, “Uh… w-well, gotta pick a name then.” she nodded.
Chuwon smiled, “Take your time, he won’t be going anywhere.”
Atu spoke up then, stating that dinner was ready and that Hye-Soo and Chuwon were welcome to join them. Xhu Pai was already in bed, tired out from a long day of doing her own sword training. As the two pandaren sat down near the campfire the serpent uncoiled itself from Eeda’s shoulders and slithered down into her lap, looking up at her and cocking its head once more. Eeda looked back, then took a bowl of stew from her father and began to think of what a good name for her new companion would be…
It had been quite the battle. As soon as they had breached the shutters the Gallajio’s automated defenses had burst into life, forcing both Alliance and Horde into retreat to the Incontinental Hotel.
Grimo and the rest of Savage United had rallied as many members of the Horde to their side as they could and, after some tense negotiations helped by Nelen and the members of Avalon, they had reached an agreement with those of the Alliance present in the Undermine.
The grounds of the Gallajio were unassailable now and, if the noise was to be believed, Galliwix’s lieutenants had emerged and held strategic points around the Undermine. The situation had changed. The members of the Alliance would stand guard at Slam Central Station, the only exit from the Undermine to anywhere else in Azeroth and ensure that the Darkfuse Cartel wouldn’t escape.
Meanwhile, the warriors of the Horde would move in and cut a swathe through to the Gallajio, find an alternative entrance, and dethrone Gallywix by any means necessary.
Just over two dozen members of the Horde fought through the war zone the Undermine had become, facing down whatever threats came their way… and after several very intense battles, they made their way to the Gallajio and forced their way inside.
Finally, however, the end was drawing near…
Deep Within The Gallajio
“FOR THE HORDE!” roared a tauren bull, wielding a massive hammer as he raced towards an oncoming mech inside the casino, slamming his weapon home with a loud crack and a buzz of broken and frayed electronics.
“LOK’TAR OGAR!” added Galdia as she charged in next to him, her own shield smashing into the face of a hobgoblin as her sword was thrust into the hulking man’s ribcage to pierce his lung.
Behind them were the rest of the group, along with the other members of Savage United. Grimo cocked his rifle, taking careful aim, and with a loud BANG the driver of the shredder bot jerked suddenly, then slumped over the controls as the machine fell silent, blood leaking from a bullet wound in his forehead onto the control panel.
Grimo nodded in satisfaction and reloaded his gun, glancing back to the others. “We gotta be gettin’ close now. Ya ready?” he asked.
Most of the others nodded, but Nitika glanced behind her and then back at Grimo. “Um… maybe one of us should escort Sekhi back out? She got really shook up by that one fight…” she muttered.
Grimo shook his head, “Sorry Nitts, but we need everyone we can get. Sekhi’s been through worse ‘n this ‘n besides… she was th’ one who took that guy down!” he pointed out.
Nitika frowned, looking back at the shamaness again…
About an hour ago, outside the Gallajio
The warriors of the Horde ran along the pavement into a path near the cavern walls, fighting their way towards what looked like a massive stage. All around them were speakers playing loud music with goblins stumbling around, the sound seeming to affect their minds. They quickly dispatched the guards, then gathered together as a loud record-scratch sound echoed.
“HEY HEY! WHO’S MESSIN’ WITH TH’ ACOUSTICS!?” demanded a voice from all the sound devices in the area.
Swooping down from above was a goblin in a gaudy outfit wearing sunglasses with more rhinestones than frames on them in the strangest flying machine that most of them had ever seen. It was a goblin flyer, a big round cockpit with twin jets on either side to keep it airborne… but these jets had huge subwoofers built into them facing forward from the machine, and the controls were as much a DJ’s mix table as they were for steering.
Grimo winced and held a hand over one ear, the other still holding his rifle. “Fuckin’ FEL! That’ll clean th’ earwax out… whats this guy’s deal?!” he shouted over the din as the music continued.
Mola’raum frowned, his own undead eardrums feeling the pressure as much as the living ones. “Fooked if I know mon! Lets take ‘im out ‘n keep goin’!” he nodded.
The goblin in the machine laughed at them, “Ya think ya can get past me?! You ain’t got th’ rhythm or th’ style…” he smirked and his fingers danced along the turntable as another record scratch came out of the speakers, “Now you’re gonna get schooled by R-R-R-RIK REVERB! START TH’ MUSIC!” he called out.
At once several more speakers were dropped into the arena by a set of flying claws, and out of them came… well… at normal volume it would be considered music, but at this decibel level it could be used for mining holes in a mountain!
The sound hit the members of the Horde like a physical force, knocking them off their feet as Rik laughed and tweaked the controls on his machine, the sounds pulsing and changing to keep his foes off balance.
“GAH! MY HEAD! I’M GONNA BREAK YOUR FUCKIN’ FACE!” roared Galdia in fury as she got to her feet and charged towards him, leaping to try to reach the flying machine.
Nitika shook her head, trying to focus to channel An’she’s power to heal the damage that the sounds were causing. A few of their allies were already unconscious with blood trickling out of their ears!
Nitika saw that, and her eyes widened as she remembered one of her own teammates who had very sensitive hearing. “Oh no… Sekhi! Are you okay?!” she yelled over the cacophony… then suddenly a bolt of lightning shot past her!
Rik Reverb looked up from his turntable just in time to see the lighting slam into the front of his vehicle, the flying machine sagging under a sudden new weight to it. When the light cleared Sekhi was standing there, her eyes wide and her ears flat against her head.
“HEY! AUDIENCE STAYS OFF THE STAGE TOOTS!” shouted the goblin as he raised a fist to shove her off.
Sekhi flicked her finger and Rik screamed as his hand suddenly erupted in flames, the vulpera’s face expressionless as she reached to her belt and pulled out a knife that was normally used for skinning game on the island…
Then everyone below heard screams as the flying machine rocked back and forth, the music going chaotic as two goblin hands frantically grabbed at the controls and a vulpera’s footpaws tried to keep balance on them as Sekhi dealt with the problem.
The Gallajio, present
Sekhi’s eyes were still stare-y. She had never heard sounds like that, she had never FELT sounds like that. It wasn’t as bad as the Maw had been, but it was non-stop and endlessly loud and drilled right into the shamaness’ sensitive ears.
She also still had some… well… the fur around her mouth was oddly colored. A dark red color.
“I had to make it stoooooop…” she hissed, her tail thrashing behind her.
Grimo nodded, “See, I want that.” he pointed to her, “I wanna point that at Jastor ‘n see what happens. If I’d known Sekhi had a berserker setting I’d have been tryin’ to weaponize it before we even got here.”
Nitika frowned at him, her eyes flicking to purple. She took out a notebook she used for her enchanting research, then wrote something down in it.
“Whatcha doin’?” asked Grimo.
“We’re in enemy territory so now isn’t the time, but I’m making a note to smack you across the face once we’re done.” growled Darkhoof.
Grimo winced, then the doors at the far end of the hallway crashed open as both Galdia and the tauren man slammed into them together! “DEAD END AHEAD! EVERYONE, THIS MAY BE IT!” called the tauren back to the rest of the group as the members of the Horde roared and raised their weapons, then ran to meet them. Along with them were four goblins as well. Gazlowe, Noggenfogger, Baron Relgavaz, and a young redheaded goblin woman named Grimala Fizzlecrank who, after the current leader had been dealt with, was going to take over and reform the Venture Company.
The team burst through into the room beyond, and a huge metal platform awaited them surrounded by machinery.
“Gallywix!” shouted Gazlowe. “It doesn't have to end here!”
“Oh save me the mush!” came Jastor’s voice from above them, amplified by a speaker. "The Horde made you soft!"
"Its not being soft! I'm offering you a way out!" retorted Gazlowe as he looked around, a grenade readied in one hand (he was trying to be the better man, but he wasn't an idiot.)
Then Gallywix's voice echoed loudly through the room, "You don't make the offers, I DO! Now watch and learn how a REAL goblin takes charge!"
There was a sudden roar of an engine and from above a huge machine swooped into view. It was a massive vehicle, a flying pod with two gatling guns built onto either side of it, designed to look like the leering face of Jastor Gallywix, complete with a mock cigar in its grinning mouth. On top of it was a chamber like a stylized top hat with a red tinted porthole on the front, and visible through it was the furious face of its pilot.
Inside the mech Jastor gripped the microphone with one hand and shouted into it, the machine’s jaw moving to mimic his speech as a speaker inside repeated his words loudly. “I’ve put up with your bullshit long enough Monte! I’m gonna take you all down, ‘n when I’m done I’m gonna put your heads on fuckin’ display in the lobby like HUNTING TROPHIES! NOBODY IS GONNA STOP ME! YA HEAR ME! NO. FUCKIN’. BODY!” he roared, then he slammed a button on the controls and the guns snapped up.
Grimo reacted immediately, “SCATTER!” shouted the goblin as the members of Savage United ran to the sides, the rest of the group following them as a loud whirring filled the air and bullets slammed down into the floor where they’d been, punching holes through it! Not just normal bullets either, every one of these shots was black blood enhanced, they ATE the metal!
Edwood grimaced as one almost hit his foot, the warlock stumbling back. “WATCH YER ARSES ALL OF YE! Those’re th’ same rounds they used ta kill Renzik!” he warned.
Grimo snarled and cocked his rifle, then took aim at Gallywix’s cockpit and unleashed a stream of bullets as his rifle switched to rapid fire mode. They didn’t even dent the glass, bouncing away with a loud pinging sound.
“Tch’…” grumbled the goblin, “‘course it’d be bulletproof.”
Gallywix’s laughter echoed through the pod’s ‘mouth’ as another salvo smacked down, Galdia and the tauren brave charging it and managing to slam their weapons into it, trying to find a weak point. The machine was huge, but heavy, it couldn’t hover very high off the ground!
The rest of the gathered adventurers did what they could as well, but the plating on it was the strongest Gallywix could have bought! Spells smashed into it and only scuffed the paint job, weapons rebounded with loud clangs, and all through it came Jastor’s mocking voice and the sound of the guns firing.
Grimo raised his rifle again, then swore and dove to the side as another stream of shots tore up the floor next to him. He heard a scream and looked up just in time to see a troll fall to the ground and crumble to dust and ashes. One of the black blood bullets had hit her in the stomach, and the Void-enhanced round had consumed her whole.
Grimo shuddered, then pulled his goggles down, “We gotta finish this fast…” he snarled, tapping a button on his gauntlet as the HUD on his goggles began to scan the machine. “C’mon… everything gotta have a weakness, right?!”
Then his goggles beeped, and the goblin grinned widely. “Gotcha… L.U.P.E!” he shouted, his robotic dog (he’d summoned it down from the Glittering Prize when they retreated to the Hotel,) let out a mechanical bark. “Time ta test those upgrades I gave ya before we went to th’ Siren Isle… ENGAGE SPOTTER MODE!” he commanded.
The robot dog slammed its feet down securely as its metal back popped open on a set of hinges, and a machine emerged out of it. It was a large, round, jet turbine! It began to vibrate as it started up, the rear turning from gray to cherry red… and then there was a WOOSH and the robot shot up into the air!
Nitika ducked as it shot over her, the tauren woman channeling her healing power into an orc who got winged by one of the bullets. Thankfully a graze wasn’t a fatal hit, but the black blood was akin to a virulent poison, and she’d been channeling An’she’s power to try to counter it. “What the fel did he do this time?!” she cringed, watching the robot dog fly through the arena.
Grimo had his gauntlet ready, the microphone on it connected to the L.U.P.E.’s electronic brain. “Alright L.U.P.E. FETCH!” he commanded, then pushed on the touch screen where he saw the weakness.
The robot let out an electronic bark and dove, its metal jaw opening wide, and it shot towards the pod’s mouth! With a clash of metal on metal it slammed home and there was a loud squealing sound as it tore at what it found, then the jet engine roared and it shot upwards, its prize clenched between its razor-sharp fangs!
A tirade of swearing came out of the speakers of Jastor’s machine as sparks erupted from the mouth, the guns suddenly firing wildly. “FUCK FUCK! WHO DID THAT?! I’M GONNA FILL YOU FULL O’ LEAD YA BASTARD!” he roared as the L.U.P.E. banked around and dropped its prize at Grimo’s feet.
It was the mock cigar from the mech’s mouth, which in truth was its targeting system! It had to have something to detect targets and the eyes were too obvious a spot, so it was hidden in the cigar!
“HAHA! How’s that for goblin ingenuity ya piece of shit!” retorted Grimo as he took aim at the gaping hole that the attack had left in the mech’s mouth.
Inside the mech Jastor snarled, then slammed another button, “Oh that’s just the openin’ act you little nobody! ROUND TWO!” he snapped, and there was a huge crash as something large landed on the far side of the platform.
Jastor’s pod quickly shot over to it and the jets roared almost as loudly as Rik Reverb’s music, the metal head rising up, then landing on a pair of metal shoulders… which were connected to a metal torso with sturdy metal legs and a pair of metal arms with huge cannons built into them! Jastor’s pod had become the head of a towering robotic battlesuit!
Grimo winced, “Oh fuck…” he whispered as he and the other adventurers scattered, the L.U.P.E. flying upwards again as the mech took aim with its weapons and opened fire!
“TAKE THIS! ‘N THIS! I’M GONNA KILL ALL OF YA!” shouted Gallywix into the microphone, spit flying onto the windshield on his mech as it stomped forwards, the cannons booming and launching huge blasts of black blood as they went.
Grimo tried to aim, but the mech was firing too rapidly! Any time he drew a bead on it he’d barely get off a shot before he had to flee another salvo. “FUCK! I can’t hold still long enough to shoot! He’s too fast!” he shouted.
“I believe I can assist there.” came a voice as he looked to his left.
Laurelgosa, already in her dracthyr form, was standing with her wings spread and her arms out, sand beginning to swirl around them. As Jastor’s weapons readied another round she shot up into the air and flew towards the mech, the power of the bronze dragonflight echoing through her body and seeming to leave afterimages of sand behind her as she drew near.
She took a breath, and then there was a loud roar as an eruption of sand came from her mouth, coating the mech from head to toe!
Jastor swore as he saw the dracthyr draw behind the range of his guns, the barrels unable to point at her this close, and then suddenly the mech began reading several malfunctions! The machine’s movements slowed to a snail’s pace! The guns couldn’t keep up with his targets!
“What the fuck was that?! WHAT’D YOU DO TO MY ROBOT?!” he demanded.
Sand drifted off the arms of Gallywix’s vehicle, the mech moving… but very very VERY slowly! The black blood protected it from being totally frozen, but Laurelgosa had slowed its timeline to the point where it could barely move at all!
“EVERYONE! THAT WILL NOT SLOW HIM FOR LONG! STRIKE NOW!” shouted the dracthyr as she flapped out of range as quickly as she could.
A roar went up from the assembled members of the Horde and, as one, they charged!
Mola’raum’s ghoul let out a guttural roar as it’s master channeled his power into the monster, it’s body swelling with necromantic energy into a twisted and horrific form as it body-slammed the left leg of the mech, gripping it firmly and weighing it down further as the tauren brave grabbed the other to hold it in place, the guns still trying to aim for the adventurers but unable to move fast enough to hit them!
Edwood raised his hands, along with an orc woman with glowing red eyes and a blood elf in purple robes with runes etched in fel green on them. Together they channeled a bolt of pure felfire, a massive one bigger than any Ed could have managed alone and threw it directly at the hole where the mock cigar had been! There was a titanic eruption of felfire and the lower jaw of the mech was blown apart!
“HAH! Felt that one eh?” laughed Ed, “SEKHI! READY YER CANNONS ‘N OPEN FIRE!” he called out.
Sekhi nodded, her head still pounding from Rik Reverb’s abuse of the very concept of sound as she raised her flute and began to play a rapid piping tune. Next to her an orcish man in a cape made from a bear’s hide, a darkspear troll wielding a wooden stave decorated with crystals, and a goblin man wearing robes with a necklace of gears painted blue, white, red, and green joined her. A moment later a bolt of lightning that would have made Raszageth sit up and take notice struck the mech’s ruined face and the speaker squealed loudly as sparks flew from the machine, soon replaced with Gallywix’s cursing.
“DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT! STOP DOING THAT! I’M GONNA KILL YA! I’LL STRANGLE YA WITH MY BARE FUCKIN’ HANDS! I’LL BEAT YA TO DEATH WITH MY CANE! NONE OF YOU FUCKERS ARE GETTING’ OUTTA HERE ALIVE!” shouted the trade prince amid other, less coherent cursing and threats as the control panel and displays inside the mech began to flash warning lights and reports of damage sustained.
Then Nitika stepped forward. With her were a sin’dorei woman in robes of resplendent gold and white and a vulpera man in robes of sandy brown stitched with symbols of foxes amid the sands of their homeland.
“Together!” she nodded as they raised their hands, then focused them on the damaged machine.
“ANDU FALAH’DOR!” called out the blood elf as a blast of light erupted from her fingertips, the power of the Sunwell coursing through he even this far from Quel’thalas.
“BY THE DUNES!” cried the vulpera as a stream of what appeared to be golden motes of sand swirled from her hand, shooting towards the mech like a concentrated dust storm made of light!
“AN’SHE! I CALL UPON YOUR MIGHTY RADIANCE!” shouted Nitika, raising her stave and pointing the eagle head towards Gallywix’s mech, and a blast of sunlight shot forth to join the others.
The blessed powers, each a reflection of what they held as holy, shot towards the mech and into its damaged recesses, right into the fuel tank of black blood deep within! The trio kept up the attack as long as they could as, inside, smoke erupted from the controls of the mech as Gallywix flailed his arms, coughing frantically!
The black blood was created by the Void, and the quantity left in the fuel tank after how much he’d already consumed couldn’t withstand the blessed power! The starcursed liquid boiled and roiled as the divine spells blasted into the canister, and finally it ruptured and cracked open, the vile fluid spraying out the sides of the mech as those nearby ran for cover!
“Alert! Black blood fuel compromised! Auto-eject activated!” shouted a mechanical voice inside the cockpit.
“NO! ABORT DAMMIT! I CAN STILL WIN THIS! I-…” protested Gallywix as the top of the top hat popped open and the chair inside shot upwards, launching the podgy trade prince into the air. Gallywix flailed his arms as he fell, then landed behind the machine with a loud thud and a louder curse.
The goblin scrambled to his feet, ignoring the members of the Horde present in his frustration and fury, and turned on the machine. “WORTHLESS HUNK OF JUNK!” he snapped, stomping to one of the legs and kicking at it repeatedly.
Gazlowe stepped forward, ready to insist on Gallwix’s surrender… then he saw the mech begin to shake. One of its legs had been damaged, bent by the strength of the tauren brave, and it was losing its balance! “Hey…” began Gazlowe, realizing what was happening, “Hold on!”
Jastor ignored him, stomping forward and glaring daggers at Gazlowe, “Its not over ‘till I say it’s over!” he snarled, kicking at the machine again. “AND I.” he kicked it harder, “ALWAYS!” he lifted his leg and slammed his entire foot into the mech’s metal limb. “WIN!”
There was a loud creaking sound, and the mech wobbled as Gazlowe started to run forward, “LOOK OUT!” he shouted.
It was too late however, the mech tottered, then tipped backwards as Jastor looked up, “Huh?” he gasped, then he screamed wordlessly as the mech fell backwards and several tons of metal and electronics landed on him with enough force to shake the entire platform, kicking up a huge cloud of dust and smoke from the broken electronics inside it as Gazlowe, the other goblin cartel leaders, and the members of the Horde took cover and shielded themselves from the billowing fumes and debris.
When the dust cleared Gazlowe looked out to see the mech laying on it’s back… and a single arm sticking out from under it in a slowly widening pool of blood. The weight of the machine had crushed Jastor’s body, killing him.
Gazlowe sighed deeply, this wasn’t how he’d wanted it to go. He wanted Jastor to answer for his crimes, to face the reality of what he’d done, to have to finally admit for once that he’d gone too far… but… the important thing was that it was over. “… lets get outta here.” he nodded.
The Incontinental Hotel, the Following Day
It was a victory celebration, but it was a low key one by goblin standards (still rowdy by most standards though.) The Undermine had suffered greatly under Gallywix, and many goblins had lost friends and family during the riot. The survivors of the Darkfuse Cartel had vanished, though Gazlowe had his men keeping an eye out for them.
In the basement of the continental hotel the members of Avalon and Savage United were seated together around their table, once more a pair of smaller tables pushed together to accommodate them all, and talking about what they’d found out.
The main question on all their minds however… it had become clear given Xal’atath’s abandonment of Gallywix that the ethereals were not working with her. The harbinger had lost the power of the dark heart… but now it was in the hands of an unknown quantity.
The ethereals were enigmatic beings, the survivors of the world of K’aresh which had been devoured by the Void Lord Dimensius, one of the most powerful entities in all realities. At times the ethereals had been both friend and foe to the people of Azeroth, which begged the question…
Why did they claim the Dark Heart?
What were they going to do with it?
Were the ethereals potential allies, or were they a new threat to Azeroth?
As the party wore on Nelen stepped outside of the hotel, needing to get some fresh… well, fresh-er air. He looked around the city, seeing goblin work crews scurrying back and forth, taking in reports, assessing damage, working on minor repairs that could be done quickly as preparations were made for bigger ones. If nothing else the goblins knew how to rebuild things, though with the way their engineering and science worked they’d have to.
As he stood there, he became aware of the smell of burning socks, then looked over to see Grimo walking up next to him. “Well, that’s done. Been wanting to put a fuckin’ bullet in Gallywix since th’ Cataclysm.” he grunted, a cigar sticking out of his mouth.
Nelen nodded, “Satisfied?” he asked the goblin.
Grimo chuckled, “Eh… yeah I guess. Be better if we got th’ Dark Heart back too but… eh, I’ll take it.” he sighed, taking the cigar out and holding it between two fingers as he shook his head, his other hand resting on his belt with his thumb hooked into it.
Nelen sighed, nodding, the magus’s hands folded behind his back. “Mm… quite. Ethereals though. I hadn’t been aware they were even interested in what was going on in Khaz Algar. This could get problematic soon…” he replied.
“I heard some of our boys ran into one back in Azj-kahet. Some ‘Nexus-Princess’ chick… at least, I think it was a chick. Dunno if ethereals even got gender-y bits anymore.” replied Grimo, taking another pull of his cigar.
Nelen nodded, “Hm… well, all we can do is wait and see Grimo. Until the ethereals make their intentions known, we can’t act.” he sighed. “Perhaps Khadgar or Alleria could offer some insight…”
Grimo shrugged, “Eh, we’ll find out when it starts to stink Fullmoon.” he smirked, then took a deep pull of his cigar and exhaled a huge cloud of acrid smoke.
Nelen coughed and waved his hand infront of his face to push the fumes away, “… indeed.” he smirked a bit.
Across the street, a pair of eyes watched them.
Seated there, next to a lamp post was a cat with jet black fur and shining green eyes. It narrowed its eyes, its ears flicking as if it could pick up what they were saying, then it stretched and ran off into the Undermine.
It passed by some buildings, next to a trash can, paused as a goblin car thundered across the street ahead of it, then its ears perked up as it heard voices nearby.
“… said she’ll meet us when we signal her. We should focus on finding a new base first while they clear out the hideout here. We don’t want to leave anything they can use behind, don’t want a repeat of what almost happened with his horn, do we?” came a masculine goblin’s voice, a rather cultured one for a resident of the Undermine.
“Too right we don’t…” growled another voice. A woman’s voice, a goblin woman. “Just gotta wait until… oho, speak o’ th’ demon…”
The cat emerged and walked towards a pair of goblins. One of them was dressed in a black silk shirt with red suit pants and jacket, a pair of polished black shoes on his feet and black hair tied in a ponytail.
The other was a female goblin, wearing a silvery grey silken gown under a cloak. She had purple hair hanging loose around her face with a small ponytail. Her eyes were also a deep crimson. It wasn’t unheard of for goblins to have red eyes, but that shade almost made them look like they could glow in the dark.
The cat walked towards the woman and leapt up onto her shoulder. “They know?” she asked, glancing to it.
The cat shook its head, and the goblin smirked in response.
“Perfect… well, lets head up then.” she nodded to the goblin man as she looked back towards the Incontinental Hotel. Both she and her companion shared a grin… as did the cat. A wide grin, too wide, unnaturally so with long sharp teeth filling its mouth. Then the two goblins turned and, with their feline companion, walked towards Slam Central Station, vanishing into the crowd. Just another pair of goblins in the Undermine, nobody even gave them a second glance.
Garnal Blackice walked towards the edge of the platform that those members of the Order of Night who had escaped the purge in Azj-kahet, and those that Xal’atath had managed to recruit in the meantime, had camped out in. None of them were particularly comfortable being in the void, but it seemed that most of the entities there were willing to leave them be given the presence of their master.
Hovering near the edge of the platform, gazing off into the abyss with a faint smile as if seeing the face of an old dear friend, was Xal’atath. The Harbinger had been worried when Alleria had managed to damage the Dark Heart, but by a stroke of luck she had found a goblin with the resources, tools, and most importantly gullibility to repair the damage that Windrunner had caused.
Gallywix was a very easy target for her. A small-minded greedy goblin focused only on short-term profit with no concern for long term risks. She would enjoy showing him exactly what he was helping her do when the time came and hearing his screams when she did.
She didn’t look around when she heard Garnal draw near. She had sent him, Xiaren, and the recruit she had found in Stranglethorn to inspect the operation in the Undermine and, if necessary, remind Gallywix that despite being an immortal creature of the Void Xal’atath’s patience wasn’t limitless.
“You have news?” asked the Harbinger without turning her head.
Garnal stopped and stood at attention, “Yes Mistress Xal’atath. We went to inspect the workshop where the Dark Heart was being repaired as ordered… however, we ran into complications.”
Xal’atath’s smile faded from her face, the harbinger nodding. “What kind of complications, Garnal?”
“All of the Darkfuse Cartel guards were dead when we arrived, and we encountered a group of adventurers along with Monte Gazlowe and another goblin.” replied the death knight. “It is the same group that Xiaren and I have encountered before, the one with the vulpera we told you of. The one who can channel Azeroth’s voice.”
Xal’atath scowled. That vulpera was very unwelcome. She did not believe that a single shamaness could derail her plans, but she found her presence annoying and her power concerning. “I see… and the Dark Heart?”
“The adventurers engaged us in combat while the goblins broke into the workshop, they emerged from it a short while later and when I demanded they surrender the Dark Heart they said that it was already taken… by ethereals.” he replied.
Xal’atath’s eyes widened, “… what.” she hissed, spinning around. “Ethereals? You are certain Garnal?!” she demanded.
It was a credit to the death knight’s training as a soldier and his own resolve that he did not waver under the Harbinger’s glare.
“We did not see them ourselves, but they did not have the Dark Heart on them when they emerged and Xiaren informed me her sha could not sense its aura when they did. We cannot confirm their presence, but the Dark Heart is no longer at the workshop in question.” he nodded.
Xal’atath narrowed her eyes, staring at Garnal’s face as she felt his emotions, seeking any subterfuge, any sign of betrayal or desire to undermine her own plans… and found none. He was telling, as far as he could confirm, the truth.
“… I see. I suppose I need to have a word with Jastor myself then.” frowned the Harbinger as the shadows swirled around her, and a second later she was gone.
Garnal turned and walked back to the encampment, finding the small campfire amid the tents where Xiaren and Zul’zana were waiting. “I have reported. The Mistress is going to the Undermine to investigate this personally.” he said as he took a seat near the flames. He didn’t need the warmth of the fire, he could barely feel it, but in life he had fought in Northrend and old habits died harder than he did.
“She be sayin’ anyting bout dese… ethereals ya call ‘em?” asked Zul’zanza. He had never heard of such beings before, but until he was thrown through time his own experiences with the wider world of Azeroth and beyond were very limited. Garnal described them as beings of pure energy who used special wrappings to maintain their physical form and Zul’zanza had a very hard time imagining such creatures.
“No… she seemed very upset about their presence. I do not know why, but we should stand ready. If the ethereals are her enemies we may be called into service again very soon.” replied the death knight.
Xiaren remained silent, sitting cross legged as she breathed in and out slowly, keeping her emotions as deadened as she could… even as the sha whispered in her ear. It was much louder here, in the Void, than back on Azeroth.
The Incontinental Hotel, Undermine
The members of Avalon and Savage United sat at two large tables pushed together to make one huge one in the hotel’s bar, going over what they knew.
“So, the Dark Heart has been stolen…” nodded Nelen, pointing out a spot on the map of the Undermine that they had gotten from Gazlowe’s agents, the location of the workshop marked by a small onyx gemstone from Jaie’s jewel crafting leftovers to represent the Dark heart. Sitting at the Gallajio’s spot on the map was a worn and stripped bolt from Grimo’s scrap collection to represent Gallywix’s assumed location.
Nelen continued, “Ethereals were present, but we can’t confirm their allegiance. They may have stolen the Dark Heart on Xal’atath’s behalf, but…” he glanced to Samantha.
The void elf was sitting with her feet up on the table, drinking some Thunderbrew straight from the bottle. It wasn’t the drink of choice in the Undermine, but the hotel saw a dedicated group of connoisseurs who swore by dwarven brews. “… but Garnal was surprised when he found out they were there. If Xal’atath had ethereal agents, I’d have to guess they’d know about them. Either she didn’t tell them she was sending them, or she didn’t send them.”
Nitika shook her head, the seeress standing next to the table as the hotel’s chairs, small for their non-goblin allies, were useless for the massive tauren woman. Her own weight would break them if she even managed to find one wide enough to fit her. “Either way that’s bad… Sam, can you get back to Telegos Rift and ask Locus Walker about this? Maybe he knows whats going on?” she asked.
Samantha shook her head, “Nope. One, I can’t just go there whenever. I need to use our established voidgate in Stormwind. Two… how do we know he’s not in on it? Alleria seems to trust him, but he’s always creeped me out. Something about him just feels off to me.”
At that the group shared a worried look. Locus Walker was an ally to Alleria, Umbric, and the rest of the ren’dorei… as far as anyone knew. It was Locus Walker who taught Alleria how to absorb the power of a Dark Naaru while on Argus after all and while Alleria’s powerful connection to the Void had won them the day against Xal’atath in Hallowfall by allowing her to see where the Harbinger was during the battle it was still a powerful connection to the Void. Locus Walker may have had other reasons to teach Alleria how to wield such powers…
Grimo sighed, stubbing out his cigar. Non-smoking laws were considered by goblin society as a whole… for about five minutes before a nearly unanimous decision of ‘yeah fuck that.’ “Either way, it’s a big fuckin’ problem. We don’t know where th’ damn thing is now ‘n either spookybitch got it, or its gonna come bite us in th’ collective ass from a direction we might not see comin’.”
Nelen nodded, looking around to the assembled adventurers. “Right, so the question is, what can we do right now? What actions can we take to forestall whatever is co-…” he began, then suddenly a loud BOOM came from outside the hotel.
The group looked up, then everyone looked at Grimo. This was the Undermine after all.
Grimo narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t th’ good kinda boom…” he warned, reaching for his rifle…
Then suddenly the PA speaker in the corner of the room squealed loudly before Jastor Gallywix’s voice echoed through the bar. “Triple hazard pay for whoever brings me Gazlowe’s head!” shouted the Darkfuse Cartel’s Trade Prince.
Soon more explosions came from outside as the speaker squeaked again and the voice of the hotel’s concierge came on. “Uh… everybody stay calm. There’s a… situation… outside. We advise that all guests return to their rooms ‘n lock their doors… or don’t, but its not on us if ya don’t.”
Nelen and Grimo glanced at each other, then around the table, and as one the members of Avalon and Savage United readied themselves for battle!
Nelen shifted into his worgen form as Sam knocked back the rest of her ale and threw the empty bottle over her shoulder to smash on the floor behind her, the void elf swinging to her feet in one fluid motion and drawing her daggers. Dareley stood, readying his sword and shield as the blade began to glow with the power of the light, Zhan-min climbing out of his chair with a loud grunt and readying his maces.
Jaie shook out her arms and nodded to the others as Aziguni readied her bow, a loud growling sound coming from the next seat. Shalandrae was NOT happy about being in the Undermine, the city feeling like a festering boil to the druidess’s senses, and she would be quite glad to have something to help her deal with those feelings… loudly. Her body swelled as she transformed into the form of a bristlebear, large thorns spread through her brown fur as she growled and pawed at the ground.
Nitika focused, and her body swirled with shadows as her eyes flashed purple, Darkhoof taking charge as Mola’raum drew his glave from its sheath on his back, the runes set into the blade glowing a baleful sickly green color.
Edwood snapped his fingers, his imp Guzzle appearing on his shoulder in a whoosh of felfire as Laura stood and unsheathed her sword and spell foci. Her body swirled with scarlet fire as she shed her visage, and Laurelgosa the Dracthyr stood ready. Sekhi nodded and pulled her flute out of her backpack, holding it tightly in her hands. The elements in the Undermine were… well… she was very glad she’d learned how to deal with such songs, but she’d manage.
Grimo cocked his rifle as his robotic dog L.U.P.E. let out a mechanical bark, its eyes flashing red… and then there was a loud roar from next to him.
Galdia Grimaxe was on her feet, grinning widely with her weapon and shield ready. “LETS GO GUYS!” she shouted as more explosions came from outside, and the sound of raised angry voices echoed down through the doors, “Sounds like there’s a BIG fight out there and I WANT IN!” she laughed.
Grimo smirked, “Keep that attitude Galdia, we’re gonna need it. Alright, Savage United! CHARGE!” he shouted.
“Avalon! To battle!” nodded Nelen in response as the group moved to the exits, emerging into an Undermine in chaos… well, the wrong kind of chaos. The bad kind.
The Darkfuse were everywhere, and it seemed like goblins from all the other cartels were fighting back against them! The non-Darkfuse ones were using anything they could lay hands on as a weapon. Some had proper swords, axes, guns, and the like, but just as many had metal pipes, chunks of wood, or broken bottles. It was a full-on riot!
“What the fel happened while we were down there?!” growled Nelen at the scene as he shot a blast of arcane energy at one of the Darkfuse goblins who had knocked another to the ground and was moving in for the kill, the blast leaving nothing but a pile of glowing purple ashes as the fallen goblin quickly got back to their feet, nodded their thanks, and ran back into the mob.
One of the hotel guards looked at him, “Its all over th’ Undermine buddy! Jastor tried ta off Gazlowe ‘n some other goblin, some Renzik or somethin’, shoved him outta th’ way ‘n took the bullet! He’s dead ‘n Gazlowe is on th’ warpath! He’s roundin’ up everyone he can ‘n they’re gonna march on th’ Gallajio!”
Grimo’s eyes widened at that, “Fuckin’ fel, Gazlowe started th’ riot?!” he asked.
Samantha frowned, “Renzik is dead… that’s bad. SI:7 agents are hard to kill, they must’ve used another one of those black blood weapons.” she nodded, “Guys, we should head to the Gallajio, fast!”
As one, the group began to advance, pushing through the mob as best they could. Any Darkfuse they encountered, they attacked without hesitation!
Grimo’s gun cracked off as a massive hobgoblin with a black blood sprayer suddenly cried out in pain, the tanks on his back that held the ammunition bursting and coating him with the foul ichor, his voice fading as he vanished into the Unseeming with a scream of horror.
Two of the Darkfuse moved to attack an elderly goblin man, a younger one standing between them with a makeshift shiv of a shard of mirror glass with cloth wrapped around it in a crude handle, before there was a blur and Jaie was suddenly there. The pandaren woman spun and her heel slammed across one of the goblin’s faces, sending them flying into a nearby trashcan where they lay in an unconscious heap.
As the other one turned to face her there was a clang behind him and he turned to see the huge frame of Zhan-min as the shamanbrewer’s maces crackled with elemental lightning, slamming into the Darkfuse goblin’s side! They screamed as the lightning grounded itself in their body, smoke trialing off them as they flew across the battlefield!
Jaie nodded to the elderly goblin and his defender. “GO! Get to shelter, fast!” she pointed back up the path away from the fighting as the older goblin gave her a grateful nod and the younger one pulled him to his feet, putting their arm over his shoulder as they guided them away.
Up the path a massive hobgoblin ran towards a group of Steamwheedle alchemists with three more Darkfuse members when the hobgoblin stumbled, shaking his head, then his eyes flashed violet as his mouth fell open. He grabbed one of the Darkfuse goblins by the head, lifted them up, and with a wordless roar he slammed their face into a nearby lamp post. When the other two turned in shock at the supposed traitor he brought his club around and smashed one in the side hard enough to shatter their ribcage, the third one weighing his chances before turning and running away with a scream.
The alchemists looked confused… until they saw the shape of Nitika Darkhoof behind the hobgoblin. The tauren knew she couldn’t keep up the mind control for long, so she smirked and said, “Go bash your head in on that wall.” Without any sign of hesitation, protest, or even survival instincts the hobgoblin marched to the nearest building, put his hands on the wall, and slammed his head into it repeatedly until his skull cracked, then he fell to the ground with his forehead horribly bruised and brick dust coating his face.
The fighting grew fiercer as they drew closer to the Gallajio, Nelen sending out an arcane orb to crash through a group of Darkfuse goblins like a gigantic glowing bowling ball into so many pins as Grimo pulled a grenade out of his pouch and threw it into another group. “HEADS UP! HOT POTATO!” cackled the goblin as there was a tremendous explosion and the Darkfuse goblins were sent flying in all directions… and not all in one piece.
A group of five hobgoblins saw the group of adventurers drawing near and their leader roared, charging towards them! The response was a loud cry of “LOK’TAR OGAR!” as Galdia raised her shield and shot towards the lead hobgoblin, blocking his club with a loud crash before slamming her sword home into his midsection! The hobgoblin stumbled backwards, his eyes wide as he pressed his hands to his gut, the sword having gone through his stomach and burst it like an acid filled balloon!
As he fell to his knees the other hobgoblins went around him, ignoring their fallen ally… before several more Darkfuse goblins tackled them. They looked confused, until they saw that these goblins were all sporting horrible wounds, some of them even missing limbs, and rather than using weapons they were fighting tooth and claw like feral animals!
Mola’raum stood nearby, his glave slammed into the ground point first as he channeled his necromantic powers into the fallen goblins around them. “GETCHA LAZYBONES UP ‘N FIGHT!” he commanded as another trio of goblin corpses struggled to their feet, let out an unearthly howl, and raced into the battle!
Two more goblins went down with arrows where their eyes should have been as Aziguni readied another shot from her bow, a gigantic Darkfuse mech being held back by Shalandrae. She was almost as big as it in her bear form, her powerful claws smashing into its joints as she tried to break one of its legs off to disable it. She didn’t like Grimo much, but he had told her a few tips on the best ways to deal with those when she got down here, reasoning she was likely the one who’d be able to do it given her shapeshifting powers.
The goblin at the controls was skilled, however. He was moving to try to keep the damaged components protected. But the mech didn’t have a top on it, just a seat open to the air above… Suddenly there was a burst of shadow and three of Annulus’ copies appeared, falling on him as one. The mech pilot screamed as their void-daggers bit into his flesh, then slumped over the controls as the mech fell silent.
Samantha appeared next to Shalandrae in a swirl of darkness, then nudged her with her elbow and pointed towards another group of hobgoblins coming towards them. The druidess roared, baring her fangs, and charged towards them!
There was a flicker of red light from a nearby rooftop as a group of Darkfuse snipers took aim, ready to rain death upon those who defied Gallywix’s will… but then a shadow passed over them. Two of them were too focused on what was below, but one was still readying their gun and they saw that, pausing and looking up. “Guys? Shit, LOOK OUT!” they screamed.
Unfortunately for them, it was too late. Laurelgosa banked around, flames flickering at her jaws, and with a tremendous roar she unleashed the volcanic breath of the black dragonflight upon the sharp shooters! Two of them were incinerated on the spot, the third falling from the building’s roof in flames to their death below!
Another mech was fighting its way through the rioters, until a hole in reality opened above it and a massive infernal slammed down on top of the machine. The felfire elemental cooked the mech’s driver alive on impact, then with an echoing roar of fury it turned on another nearby as Edwood channeled a gigantic blast of felfire towards the mech in question! A cannonball of green flames erupted from his hands and into the machine, blowing one of its arms off in a shower of sparks!
Behind them were Dareley and Sekhi. The earthen man whispered a prayer to the light under his breath and his sword glowed with a holy radiance, a shield of light appearing over Nelen just in time to block several bullets from the Darkfuse goblins nearby as Sekhi’s fingers tapped rapidly over a drum, a raincloud manifesting over Galdia and Nitika to create a downpour of spirit-infused droplets to restore their injuries.
Then, suddenly the doors to the Gallajio burst open and with a loud battle cry a new wave of Darkfuse joined the battle!
“Gordrinn’s fangs!” barked Nelen as he summoned his mirror images and blinked behind them to confuse the newcomers. “How many does Gallywix have?!”
Grimo snarled, tossing another grenade with a satisfying boom and several screams soon after. “Too damn many! I’m runnin’ outta bombs over here Fullmoon!” he warned.
Suddenly there was a tremendous crash as the pavement in front of the Gallajio burst open and impossibly huge tree roots emerged from the ground, slamming down and blocking the path and cutting off Gallywix’s reinforcements!
Sekhi saw this, the vulpera pausing in her healing as her ears flicked around. “Roots?” she whispered, then she caught it. A song, a very very familiar song.
Standing atop one of the nearby buildings was Orwenya, the elf-troll woman’s arms raised as she called upon the power of nature to hold the Darkfuse cartel at bay!
Next to her was a more familiar troll though. A zandalari woman with a brilliant blue mohawk. “Good job sistah, now lets see how dem Darkfuse like dis…” she grinned, then took a breath and her eyes flashed crimson as she opened her jaw wide… and no sound came out.
Well, no sound that most could hear, but Sekhi winced and folded her ears back as several other vulpera and worgen who had joined the fight, including Nelen, suddenly stumbled and complained loudly, along with a few of the beasts that the hunters had brought with them.
A moment later, from the ceiling of the cave came a huge dark cloud made of countless bats! They fell upon the Darkfuse as the goblins below cried out in pain and anger, but the bats were too small for their weapons to work against effectively! They swung their swords, but they could only hit them by chance and the tiny creatures were legion! They fired their guns, but the rifles shot single bullets, and they needed buckshot to even have a chance of hitting them!
All through the crowd the bats sank their fangs into the Darkfuse defenders, their saliva full of anti-coagulant to keep the blood from clotting, and soon the air stank of copper as Jastor’s minions began to bleed to death from millions of tiny bites!
Above them, on the balcony of the Gallajio, stood Jastor Gallywix. The Trade Prince scowled at the scene below as he watched the battle, able to see from up there that it wasn’t going well for the Darkfuse.
As he stood there, he suddenly heard a voice behind him, the goblin’s eyes going wide with shock.
“It seems your time has run out, Gallywix.” the voice said as Xal’atath appeared behind him. The Harbinger floated towards the goblin man, her eyes narrowed and a frown upon her face.
Jastor turned to face her, looking almost relieved. “Xal’atath! Ya got here just in time! They’re…” he began, but she cut him off.
She had heard Garnal’s report, she wanted confirmation. “Where is the Dark Heart?” she demanded.
Gallywix looked at her in confusion, chuckling nervously, “W-what do ya mean? I handed it over ta yer ethereal pals.” he replied.
The air around Xal’atath visibly darkened as her eyes widened in fury, the Harbinger’s body beginning to glow with the power of the Void as she clenched her fists. “You gave it to the ETHEREALS?!” she shouted, the anger evident in her voice. Clearly, this was NOT what she wanted to hear!
Gallywix felt a chill go down his spine, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as he heard her words. “He… he wasn’t working for you?” he asked, slowly realizing just how badly things had turned for him. “I-I didn’t know! I swear!” he stammered, then he gave her a nervous smile and began to walk towards the Harbinger. “Hey… we can still fix this! Just help me stomp this rebellion and…”
Xal’atath cut him off again, her words sending a thrill of terror through him. “You have outlived your usefulness.” snapped the Harbinger, her rage clear on her face as the shadows swirled about her and she vanished back into the void, “But I will enjoy watching them tear you apart…” came her voice as she disappeared.
Jastor stared at the spot where she’d been, sweat dripping down his cheeks as behind him the sounds of battle grew louder. The roots had retreated once Uh’kue’s assault had weakened the Darkfuse enough and the goblin rioters, aided Avalon, Savage United, and the other adventurers in the Undermine, were advancing towards the Gallajio!
Jastor swallowed, then whispered, “I don’t need you…” as he tried to steel himself, turning to face the oncoming mob. “I don’t need ANYONE!” he snarled, walking back to the edge of the balcony and looking out at the rebels. “YA HEAR ME?! EACH ‘N EVERY ONE OF YOU UPSTARTS IS GONNA PAY! IN BLOOD!” he hollered, then turned and stormed off into the Gallajio. As soon as he was inside a set of metal security shutters slammed down behind him.
Soon, Gazlowe and Marin Noggenfogger were at the shutters, working on a way to blast their way inside as Grimo watched, smoking a cigar. Nearby were the members of Avalon and Savage United, taking stock of the battle as Dareley and Sekhi tended to their wounds, the vulpera focusing more on Mola’raum and Edwood, whom Dareley’s light blessed powers would hurt more than help.
Grimo turned, looking out towards the rest of the Undermine. When he was a kid, he loved coming down here. Seeing all the new inventions, the constant hum of industry, the crazy alchemical experiments, it was like a theme park to him as a young goblin.
Now… seeing it covered in bodies, craters in some of the buildings, the fighting had torn half of it apart and set a good chunk of it on fire. The Undermine was never safe, he knew that now as an adult, and maybe his memories were more rose tinted than the reality had been due to his young age at the time… but even at its worst it hadn’t been this.
He flicked away the cigar butt, then turned to the others. “Hey, Fullmoon. I got a favor to ask.” he nodded to the magus.
Nelen looked back at him, carefully adjusting his glasses. He was still in his worgen form, ready to fight if the Darkfuse had more reinforcements to send out. “What is it Grimo?” he asked.
“Look. Jastor is our problem. He was part of th’ Horde, ‘n he stabbed us in th’ back just like Sylvannas did.” nodded the goblin. “We should be th’ ones to handle this. Hold Avalon back ‘n guard th’ exits to th’ Gallajio. I’ll see if I can’t get some more of th’ Horde with us, then we’ll go in ‘n finish th’ job.”
Nelen looked down at the goblin, and he could sense that there was more to this than Grimo was telling him… but he could guess. The way that Grimo had talked about the Undermine had reminded him of his own childhood memories of Old Dalaran before the Third War… and the heartache he’d felt to see Xal’atath destroy it when they had first become stranded on the Isle of Dorn.
Nelen glanced towards the rest of Avalon, then nodded, “Understood. We’ll make sure he doesn’t escape.” he replied.
Shalandrae grumbled a bit, wanting to deal with Jastor herself (after all, the logging under Hellscream had been done with goblins under Gallywix’s command,) but Aziguni put a hand on her shoulder and nodded to her with a sympathetic smile. “We should go where we are needed, Shalandrae. His allies may try to flee. We can stop them.”
The druid shrugged, “I suppose…” she replied, but she gave a small smile in return to the draenei woman.
As Grimo headed out into the crowd to get any help he could, inside the Gallajio it was all hands-on deck! Weapons were readied, defenses primed, security measures activated, and Gallywix made ready for a siege. The Gallajio was about to be raided, but he was the boss and he’d be damned if he’d be going down without a fight! “Let them come…” growled Gallywix as he walked into the weapons vault, a huge machine sitting near a giant drum of black blood as it refueled. Above it a spotlight came on, and Jastor’s own grinning countenance looked back at him in metal, with two massive guns built into either side. “Undermine is my city, ain’t nobody gonna take it from me.” he sneered.
Through the back alleyways, past the slum apartments, over rickety bridges built to traverse what could only be called ‘water’ because it was moving too fast to be called ‘mud,’ two beings crept… in the same body.
After the sudden reappearance of the incubus of the late Witch of Blackwald Forest the group was on high alert. Cenoon had managed to outfly Laurelgosa and escaped to an unknown location, and the others couldn’t take the risk that the other surviving members of Unlimited Sin were at large in the city. They had enough to contend with already without having to worry about having Az’arad or Gremori come charging out of the shadows of the tall buildings.
Edwood and Nelen had been working together to try to track down Cenoon’s via magic, but so far their resident experts in the arcane and fel were having little success. Zhan-min was still angry about what the incubus had done to him, the pandaren man taking it as a personal violation that he’d manipulated his emotions like that.
Samantha, however, was following another lead. Let the rest of them keep an eye out for Dissonantia’s old minions, she and Annulus were more concerned about the Darkfuse Cartel’s interest in the black blood.
Nelen had pointed out to her that maybe it was just a co-incidence. Xal’atath’s machinations in Khaz Algar had shown just how potent a resource it was, given how she used it to transform the nerubians into her ascended slaves.
Samantha had nodded at his words, then thought to herself ‘sure Nelen, and maybe I’m the faerie dragon Brightwing.’
She had, after all, been the only one of their number to have an actual conversation with the Harbinger, if only in her dreams. She knew just how far and wide Xal’atath could travel, and where she could travel to. It was possible that she wasn’t involved in this, but Samantha (and Annulus) wouldn’t be happy until they were sure she wasn’t.
So they watched, and waited, and listened, and occasionally clonked a Darkfuse goblin over the head when he was away from his fellows and rifled through the hapless goon’s pockets for anything important… and an hour ago they had hit the proverbial jackpot.
Inside the pocket of a manager of the Cartel along with half a candy bar (mostly melted,) twelve gold and fifty five silver (immediately pocketed,) a takeout menu from a local Pandaren restaurant (she made a mental note to hit that up later,) and his car keys Samantha had found a letter from none other than the big boss himself which read as follows:
Grilo,
Listen up Greasebombs, this is important.
You’re to head to the Cartel’s off the books site and ensure that it’s secure. Make sure all the security features are up to standard and if they’re not you have my personal authorization to cut off however many fingers from the idiots running it is necessary to get them to fix the problem.
Get a move on too. We’ve heard its not just the Alliance and Horde who are sniffing around. Some of your co-workers have been seeing ‘ghosts with bandages’ and while you may not know what that means I sure as fuck do.
Don’t worry about it, just make sure they can’t get in.
Oh, and since you probably don’t know which off the books I’m talking about, its that one over by Venturewood. MOVE IT!
Signed,
Your Fucking Boss
Thus, Samantha made her way to Venturewood, the main neighborhood of the Venture Company, as quickly as she could.
She found a place under rather heavy guard to say the least. A small group of buildings near the cavern wall on the edge of the Undermine, but with at least ten guards for each building. Thankfully, her own talents combined with Annulus’ power ensured that nobody saw her at all…
She crept along the path through the buildings, frowning to herself. “(I don’t see anything, but the guards here are so thick its absurd. Gallywix may as well be holding up a sign that says, ‘something huge is here!’ Annulus, do you sense anything?)” she thought.
“Something is here…” came the reply from Annulus in her mind, “Samantha, that door on the wall, the reinforced one there… I sense something behind it, but its very faint. I will open a voidgate, move quickly.”
Samantha nodded, and in an instant a hole of pure blackness appeared. The elf broke into a sprint and dove through it, landing on the other side of the door they had seen. It was built into the wall of the cave, and now they were in a smaller tunnel lined with electric lights.
Samantha drew her daggers and crept along, her ears pricked and her eyes wide to take in all she saw… and soon she came to a wide-open workshop. All along the walls were containers of black blood, the viscous starcursed liquid whispering to her mind, and crates of the purest kaja’mite ore that the goblins could mine… and in the center of the workshop were a trio of goblin engineers hard at work.
“Okay, casing is holding so far… black blood infusion status?” asked one, raising his goggles up. He was a younger goblin, likely barely into his twenties, in a dirty tee-shirt and jeans.
“Stable. Oh man I hope it works this time… remember what happened to Emvi?” shuddered another, wringing his hands together. This goblin was older than Grimo was, with white hair and a deeply lined face.
“Hey, we don’t talk about that. Just be glad she went quick.” nodded the third, a female goblin who looked a little older than the first one, as the other two winced, “We do the job, we get this back to Gallywix, and we get the fuck outta here.”
“Right.” replied the first goblin.
“Y-yeah, anyways it looks like it should hold…” nodded the second, “We can’t be sure unless we test it… but… we can’t use this fuckin’ thing. Only she can.”
The female goblin grimaced, “SHUT UP YOU IDIOT! Don’t talk about them, don’t even think about them! You want them to show up?!” she blurted out, making chopping gestures against her neck with her hand to urge him into silence.
Samantha crept closer, hidden by Annulus’ power as much as her own skill, barely a suggestion of shadow in the air… and she saw it.
Sitting on the table was a circular pendant, a golden setting with purple gemstones inlaid with strange runs, the center of which was a flat jewel that showed what appeared to be the depths of space filled with stars.
At least, that’s what it looked like, but the sight of it made Samantha’s blood run cold and Annulus gasp with shock in her mind.
“(The Dark Heart. The fucking DARK HEART!)” thought Samantha, biting her lip hard to keep from saying it aloud out of sheer shock. “(I knew there was some connection! Alleria smashed it with an arrow, but it looks pristine now! That’s why he’s harvesting so much black blood! Xal’atath has him fixing it! The weapons are just a bonus!)” she sheathed a dagger, then reached out one invisible hand towards it with the intent of grabbing it and fleeing from here with all haste.
“DO NOT TOUCH IT SAMANTHA!” shouted Annulus in her mind so loudly that the void elf only just stopped herself from crying out. “That is far more than a magical tool! We must alert our allies at once!”
“(But its right there!)” insisted Samantha, staring at it like a cat entranced with a string. “(I could grab it, have it in my pouch, and be out of here before they know whats going on!)”
“That artifact contains the endless hunger of Galakrond, Samantha. Just touching it runs the risk of that hunger consuming you!” warned Annulus. “I will not be able to protect you from its power, I am not strong enough to do so. We must leave at once and get word to the others!”
Samantha gritted her teeth in frustration but nodded as she turned and quickly made her way back to the entrance. Annulus knew far more about the Void than she did, her partner had no reason to lie to her.
Twenty minutes later, a few blocks away from the hidden workshop.
Samantha had used her gemstone to call everyone as soon as she’d made it out, using the rune for ‘all’ which meant it would alert EVERY other gemstone (save for the one belonging to Jaie’s mother, which they had carefully ensured would be exempt from such. No reason to give the poor woman nightmares about her daughter’s safety.)
Leaving the Glittering Prize in the care of Jeemjazo and Loren, the remaining members of Avalon and Savage United were making for Dornogal and the teleporter to the Undermine with all haste. This was an emergency of world-shattering proportions, literally if Gallywix got the Dark Heart back to its owner!
Samantha was hiding in the shadows as she awaited her allies, keeping an eye on the outskirts, but so far it was free of incident. It was clear Gallywix’s men didn’t even realize that she had made it inside.
Suddenly there was a loud roar of an engine, and the void elf looked up to see a car speeding towards her, the driver slamming on the brakes as the void elf stood and made herself visible.
The car crashed to a halt as Grimo pulled the keys out and jumped out of the driver’s seat, pulling his gun from its holster. Seated in the backseat were Galdia, who was looking like she’d just had a particularly exciting roller coaster ride, and Nelen, who looked like he was fighting down what was likely his first ever case of carsickness.
“Right, where’s our target Sam?” grunted the goblin man. He wanted an excuse to go after Gallywix beyond him just wrecking life for everyone in the Undermine and having him aiding a world ending threat like Xal’atath definitely did it!
“There’s a hidden lab in that compound, but we need to wait for the rest of us. The Darkfuse Cartel is all over it. We’d be outnumbered, and they all have black blood weaponry.” she nodded, “Where is everyone else?”
“Well… hard to fly down here…” shrugged Grimo, “… ‘n I’m the only one with a proper vehicle. Th’ others are coming, but they gotta ride their animals or shit so, yeah.”
Nelen swallowed, wiping his forehead with his fingertips as he tried to keep from being ill. “I’ll happily take Arrexis over that again Grimo…” he frowned.
Galdia grinned at him, “Wuss.” she laughed, already holding her sword and shield ready. She wouldn’t care how many guards there were, she’d chop them all into pieces!
“Still, we need everyone we can get before…” began the void elf, then suddenly the tentacles in her hair thrashed about as her eyes went wide.
“Samantha! I sense a surge of energy from inside the compound! Voidgates are opening! Several!” warned Annulus.
Sam looked back and immediately her hands went to the hilts of her daggers, “Get ready, somethings happening!” she snapped.
The two goblins at the gates of the facility looked back and shouted something that they were too far away to hear, then they raced inside before a blast of shadows sent one flying backwards, his body smashing into a building across the street and falling limp to the ground. The other fared better, but his attack knocked him back to the gates and charged. As he did, they got a good look at them, and Nelen and Grimo swore loudly as Samantha looked stunned at the sight.
A humanoid shape, but wrapped tightly in bandages, wielding weapons made of pure shadow, seeming to not entirely be real and yet powerful and deadly enough to take out Gallywix’s guards, black blood weapons or not!
“Ethereals?” whispered Samantha.
“The Dark Heart! The ethereals must be after it! Samantha, we can wait no longer!” shouted Annulus in her mind.
Samantha nodded, “The others will have to catch up with us guys! The only thing here the ethereals would care about is the Dark Heart, it has to be what they’re after! Move it!” she shouted, racing towards the entrance as the Grimo and Galdia fell in behind her, Nelen jogging along as his body transformed. The magus entered his worgen form as he growled, flexing his fingers as he drew upon the power of the arcane, ready to unleash it on any who tried to waylay them.
The inside of the compound was in chaos now! Ethereals were attacking the guards left and right, and the goblins were not faring well. Black blood weaponry apparently didn’t do much to their enemies when they had no real bodies at all to corrupt, and the Ethereals could vanish and reappear much like Samantha could herself using Annulus’ power, but without limit! They darted around the goblins like shadows, attacking from seemingly all sides at once.
Within mere minutes the Darkfuse Cartel were slain to a man, and the ethereals vanished into their voidgates once more… the area now empty of anyone at all.
“Where did they go?” asked Grimo, turning on his shadow energy detector built into his goggles. He couldn’t see any signatures at all save for Samantha… nor could he see the gigantic explosion of shadow energy that the Dark Heart should have caused. The workshop must have some serious shielding on it, he thought.
“I don’t know, but they’re keeping it behind that door.” replied Samantha, nodding to the cave wall behind them. “Grimo, do you have anything that can blast it apart?” she asked. Annulus could open a void gate for Samantha to use, but not for anyone else.
Grimo looked at it up and down, then shook his head, “Not on me no… that’s pure titansteel reinforced with adamantite. I have a bit of seaforium with me, but nowhere near enough.”
“Well, I should have enough!” came another voice as two other goblins came jogging into view, the group turning to them.
Coming towards them was a squat goblin man with a ballcap on his head and sturdy workmans overalls on his body. Monte Gazlowe, Trade Prince of the Bilgewater Cartel! Next to him was a goblin man in darkened leathers with a pair of daggers on his hips as well.
“Boss? When did you get to th’ Undermine?” asked Grimo.
“Few days ago, Blamstick. We just heard that Gallywix is holding th’ Dark Heart here. Ethereals just tore apart Noggenfogger’s lab and would’ve gotten him if Alleria hadn’t been holding down th’ fort.” he replied, “Marin told us everything. Gallywix is repairing th’ Dark Heart because he made a deal with Xal’atath, ‘n he was holding his wife hostage to make sure Noggenfogger did as he’s told.”
“Okay, but who’s the mook with ya?” asked Grimo, looking at the other goblin… before Samantha stepped forward.
“Hey Renzik. How’s Shaw doing?” she asked with a smirk.
The goblin in darkened leathers gave her a toothy grin, “Better now that Fairwind got him a letter finally… but I ain’t here for him. This is goblin business.” he replied.
Grimo looked at Samantha, “… you know him?” he asked.
Samantha shrugged, “We move in the same circles. His name is Renzik the Shiv, and he’s on SI:7’s payroll.”
“Yeah, normally. This is bigger than th’ Alliance or Horde though. Gallywix gotta be stopped… so less talkin’ ‘n more breakin’ ‘n enterin’ eh?” snapped Renzik as Gazlowe nodded, digging in his bag and taking out a trio of very large and very nasty looking bombs, setting them up by the doorway.
Grimo nodded at Renzik, though he was wary of him. Renzik was a goblin, but one not with any cartel. Instead, he worked for Matthias Shaw and Stormwind Intelligence, a spy for the Alliance. Matthias was a pragmatic man, and he didn’t judge based on race alone. He mistrusted the Horde of course, it was his JOB to do so, but he knew talent when he saw it and he recruited when he found it if he could do so. Renzik was one of those recruits.
Gazlowe lit the fuses and ran for cover, “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” shouted the goblin as the others quickly ducked behind whatever was sturdy nearby, and with a tremendous BOOM the doorway was blasted off its hinges, falling onto the floor of the tunnel!
“And we’re in! Lets go everyone!” grinned Gazlowe as he, Renzik, and Grimo climbed out of the cover. The other three were a bit stunned by the blast, their ears ringing loudly for a moment… until Samantha froze.
“Another voidgate is opening Samantha!” shouted Annulus in warning as the void elf spun around just in time to see a portal of blackness appear behind them… but it wasn’t ethereals who emerged.
Instead came two figures they knew all too well.
“Of course you would be here…” sighed a human man’s voice, his armor clattering with each step as he drew his swords. The monstrous weapons hissed, their fanged blades trembling in anticipation of violence.
“We know what’s in there. Stand aside, or don’t. I don’t care. I’d probably kill you anyway…” added his companion, a pandaren woman with dark glasses over her eyes, wearing robes of swirling black and white.
Standing before them were Xiaren and Garnal, the minions of Xal’atath!
Nelen nodded to Samantha and Galdia, “Grimo! Go with Gazlowe and Renzik! We’ll hold them off!” he barked as he began to channel arcane energy into his hands.
The trio of goblins nodded and raced into the cave as the worgen, elf, and mag’har prepared to battle their foes.
“Two on three, a bit uneven… shall we introduce our new recruit Xiaren?” smirked Garnal as he held his weapons ready.
Xiaren nodded dispassionately, and once more the voidgate opened behind them… and out of it came another familiar figure.
A trollish man, in the garb of a witch doctor. He looked between them all, then sighed. “Really? Ya gonna make me fight dem?”
Nelen stared at him, almost losing his grip on the energy he was readying. “Zul’zanza?! Whats going on, why are you with them?!” he demanded.
The troll shook his head, “It not be anythin’ personal bruddah, but Xal’atath say she can get me back ta me own time if I help her in dis one… so…” he glared, then suddenly the shadows swirled around him and his body seemed to become a cloud of darkness with pinpoints of light for eyes. “Sorry, but I be goin’ home, one way or anudder!” he nodded.
As he did Galdia roared and charged, the orc enraged! They had helped Zul’zanza, given him aid and a place to live after he was thrown into their time, and THIS is how he repaid that?!
Before she could reach him however Garnal dove infront of her and her pandaren forged sword clashed with his void spawned weapons, the blades locking with each other as she struggled to push past him!
Zul’zanza flickered away in a burst of shadows, ready to unleash his own powers upon Galdia, but there was another whirl of darkness and Samantha appeared behind the troll, ready to drive her daggers into his ribs! He vanished again, reappearing a bit away as Samantha kept up the chase.
Xiaren raised her hands as they swirled with the corruptive power of Y’shaarj, ready to unleash it on any who drew her gaze, only for a blast of arcane energy to shoot towards her. Before it could hit the pandaren sorceress her sha manifested behind her and smacked it away with a claw, cackling as it looked down, tasting the worgen’s anger.
As the battle continued outside the goblins raced along the tunnel until, finally, they came to the workshop. The three engineers that Samantha found lay on the floor dead, their wounds leaking the twisted power of the black blood, and nearby stood a familiar figure…
“Well look who th’ cat dragged in!” he cackled, standing there with their cane in one hand and the repaired Dark Heart in the other. Jastor Gallywix sneered at the goblins, standing next to a teleportation pad with a triumphant look on his face! “Monte Gazlowe, Renzik the Shiv, and… uh…” he paused as he looked at Grimo, cocking his head. “… do I know you?” he asked.
Grimo snarled, aiming his rifle, “Damn right you do lard-ass! You tried to enslave me when Mount Karajo erupted! Tricked me onto your ship ‘n shoved me into a cage!” the goblin retorted, narrowing his eyes at Jastor.
Gallywix raised his eyebrow at him, then frowned, “… buddy, do you got any idea how little that narrows it down?”
“NARROW THIS DOWN YA PIECE OF SHIT!” roared Grimo as he pulled the trigger, a bang echoing through the cavern as a led slug erupted from the barrel of his gun, aimed right at Gallywix’s face! A second later there was a flash of electricity and the bullet ricocheted away, knocking an empty can of kaja-cola flying off a nearby desk!
Gallywix smirked, “Force shield dumbass. You think I’d be standin’ here gloatin’ if there was any chance ya could reach me?” he smirked, “Doesn’t matter anyways.” he turned his attention away from Grimo and back to the others. “You’re too late, Gazlowe-buddy.” he chuckled, holding up the Dark Heart. “You’ll never beat me to a good deal!”
As he said this, however, a void portal suddenly appeared behind him. Gazlowe’s eyes went wide and he cried out in warning, “Gallywix!” he shouted!
Before Jastor could react his body suddenly went rigid, dark energies swirling around him as he was lifted into the air, an ethereal walking out of the portal behind him.
Gallywix’s eyes swiveled as he was raised up off the ground like a puppet and turned to face the newcomer. “Oh… uh… I was just about to send that on to Xal’atath…” he tried, but the ethereal gestured with one hand and the Dark Heart floated away from Gallywix and towards him instead. “R-repair work’s all finished! Not holdin’ out or nothin’, I swear!”
The ethereal looked at the Dark Heart as if examining it, then without a word he walked back through the portal, which closed behind him without a trace. As he did the magic holding Gallywix aloft ended, and the goblin man fell to the floor with a loud grunt of pain.
Gazlowe looked at Jastor as the heavyset goblin picked himself up. “Whatever Xal’atath promised you Gallywix, it ain’t worth it!” he insisted.
Gallywix ignored him however, looking furious as he let out a stream of colorful cursing, then glared at Gazlowe and jabbed a finger at him. “I’ll remember this…” he growled, narrowing his eyes, before stepping onto the teleport pad, “This is my town!” he snapped, pointing his cane at the trio of goblins before him. “… and when I come back, I’M GONNA BURY YOU UNDER IT!” he roared, and then with a flash of electricity he vanished. As he did the teleporter’s control panel suddenly erupted in sparks as the smell of burning copper wire filled the air, the force shield vanishing as the machine went dark, smoke billowing out from behind the controls!
“Dammit…” growled Grimo, holstering his rifle, “So fuckin’ close…”
“Close is right…” sighed Gazlowe, “How much ya wanna bet those ethereals are workin’ for Xal’atath? They’ll probably take th’ Dark Heart right to her.”
Grimo shrugged, “I mean, you guys saved Noggenfogger ‘n Jastor’s hostages right? Ain’t a total loss…” he asked.
Renzik snorted, “Yeah sure. That’s four for us, a few billion for th’ apocalypse. Go team.” he retorted.
Grimo opened his mouth to bite back, then there was a sudden explosion from outside! “Ah fuck! Those assholes are still here! Gazlowe! Renzik! C’mon, those guys who showed up are Xal’atath’s goons too!” he snapped, racing out of the cave as he drew his rifle again, the other two immediately following behind.
Outside the battle raged, Galdia’s shield showing several fresh gouges where the death knight’s blades had bitten (literally) into it, but the orc’s wounds were relatively minor. She was filled with battle rage, her sword a blur of steel as she tried to take Garnal’s head off.
Samantha was holding Zul’zanza at bay for now, but it wasn’t easy. They were both using the power of the Void to fight each other, so their abilities kept cancelling each other out. Shadowboxing in the most literal sense!
Nelen’s arcane powers were managing to keep Xiaren back, the pandaren woman only using the sha’s power to attack him. Perhaps she’d finally run out of skardyn to summon, but whatever the reason she was only focused on taking Nelen down.
Then again, Nelen was the only one of the three who had been in Pandaria during the war… so he may just be the only one she cared about hurting.
The goblins emerged into the open cavern of the Undermine, Grimo’s rifle at the ready as Renzik drew his daggers, Gazlowe holding a grenade in one hand.
Garnal saw them and smirked, “There! They must have the Dark Heart! Take the goblins!” he shouted.
Grimo frowned, “We don’t got it! Your spooky ethereal buddies already stole it!” he spat back, “… ‘n I’m gonna put a bullet in your freakin’ face for it!”
At this however Garnal paused, “Ethereals?” he asked, looking genuinely confused by this. “But she…” he looked around, then frowned, “Xiaren! A voidgate! NOW!” he shouted.
The pandaren looked down at the worgen, then sighed dispassionately and opened a portal behind the death knight as Zul’zanza vanished in a swirl of darkness, appearing next to it.
The pandaren woman swooped down from where she’d been hovering with the sha’s power, then the three of them jumped through the voidgate as it snapped shut behind them. A second later a bullet, two throwing daggers, and a blast of arcane energy shot through where it’d been.
“Dammit…” growled Nelen as his fur vanished and he shrank back down into his human form.
“Nelen, situation is critical man.” nodded Grimo. “One of th’ ethereals got in there ‘n stole th’ Dark Heart from Gallywix! They could be takin’ it to Xal’atath right now!”
Samantha however cocked her head, “… are you sure?” she asked as the others looked at her in confusion. “Garnal seemed really surprised when you mentioned the ethereals were here. Wouldn’t Xal’atath have told them if she was sending them?” she pointed out.
Gazlowe frowned, “… well, maybe not? Void things tend to like fuckin’ with people’s heads. Besides, why else would the ethereals take th’ Dark Heart if they’re not doin’ it for her?” he asked.
Samantha nodded, “That’s a very good question…” she murmured.
Nelen just sighed, then took out his gemstone and drew the rune for ‘all’ on it. Once it connected, he spoke into it, “Change of plans. The Dark Heart has been stolen by ethereals. They may be in league with the Harbinger. Rendezvous at the center of the Undermine, the Incontinental Hotel. We’ll figure out where to go from there.”
Samantha nodded, but that did bother her. If Gallywix was repairing the Dark Heart for Xal’atath, why steal it at all? Jastor couldn’t use it, so why would he keep it? Maybe to try to extort something from the Harbinger (and oh to be a fly on the wall if he did try that,) but otherwise it made no sense.
What if the ethereals weren’t working for Xal’atath?
What if they wanted the Dark Heart for themselves? What would they do with it?
The Glittering Prize, the Day After Grimo and Company Arrived in the Undermine
Jaie frowned at her gemstone, the pandaren woman sitting on the deck of the ship with her fishing rod, the line sitting in the water as she waited to see if she could catch some extra meat for dinner. “… and their weapons use the black blood… that’s really worrying Nelen.” she murmured.
Nelen’s image, hovering above the gemstone, nodded in response. “Yes. Though it might not be as bad as we think. Just because Gallywix’s cabal has worked out how to use the black blood doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re aligned with Xal’atath. Goblins are very resourceful. Its possible they may have had agents in Azj’kahet who either observed the nerubians using it or even stole some documents on it. Grimo says that it’d fit how Jastor normally does business.” replied the mage. “Still, we may need backup down here, so let the others know to be ready to move if it comes to that. Some of Gazlowe’s agents have apparently set up a teleporter in a secure location with another pad in Dornogal, so at least you won’t have to get here how we did…” he sighed.
“That bad?” she asked, wincing. She didn’t interact with Grimo as much as the members of Savage United did, but she still remembered the eyeball-searing blast from the Titanslammer Cannon that had announced their arrival and disintegrated a nerubian lord.
Nelen’s image shuddered as the mage shook his head, “Never… again…” he whispered, “But yes, let the others know please. The rest of my team is meeting at this place called the Incontinental Hotel in about half an hour. Everyone spent the morning exploring the Undermine and taking stock of the situation, we’re going to compare notes soon.”
“Got it Nelen, stay safe.” replied Jaie with a nervous smile, knowing just how unsafe a goblin city could be at the best of times (and these were not the best of times.)
“We’re trying… but we may need Nitika and Sekhi down here sooner rather than later. Talk soon.” he replied, then his image vanished as the magus drew the sever rune on his own gemstone to break the connection.
Jaie looked around, then saw Shalandrae lounging on the deck of the ship, the night elf’s head resting against the side of Eocundo the panthera as Aziguni reviewed some notes on the native wildlife of Hallowfall she’d taken. “Did you guys hear all that?” she asked.
Aziguni nodded, “Yes… I will admit I am morbidly curious as to what wildlife may have been hardy enough to survive in a city like the Undermine. What about you Shalandrae?” she asked.
“No way in fel am I going. I’ll guard the ship.” replied the druid without opening her eye. Only one eye had a working eyelid, the other one had been seared away by azerite fueled flames the day Teldrassil had burned… but those same flames had also blinded that eye, so it was a moot point.
Jaie paused, cocking her head, “Really? But you were all set to help Uh’kue and Orwenya investigate the black blood earlier…” she pointed out.
Shalandrae opened her eye a crack and focused her gaze on the pandaren. “Jaie. We’re talking about the Undermine. Imagine a city populated solely by copies of Grimo, except they’re all either greedier, more violent, more insane, or less careful than he is.”
Jaie thought on that for a second, then grimaced as her fur puffed out a bit at that mental image.
“Exactly.” nodded Shalandrae, “I’d rather visit Maldraxxus again than deal with that.” she replied as Aziguni chuckled at her.
The Incontinental Hotel, shortly.
Nelen stood outside of the hotel, though he was still technically inside in a sense he thought as he looked up at the ceiling of the cave. It was an odd feeling seeing a city of any sort with buildings… but no actual sky above them. He had the same sensation upon visiting Loamm for the first time, and the villages in the depths of Khaz Algar. Why build a ceiling when there technically already was one? Maybe it kept the bats out, but this was the Undermine. The only bats he’d seen were grilled for dinner at one of the many eateries in the city.
He made a mental note to warn Uh’kue if she came down here. It’d likely result in less complications and less goblins being incinerated with astral fire.
As he stood there, he saw a ghost wolf jogging towards him with a woman on a voidstrider next to it, Samantha pulling on the reins and bringing her mount to a halt as the wolf vanished in a swirl of elemental energy to reveal the heavyset form of Zhan-min.
“Hey Magic Man!” grinned the pandaren, straightening up and stretching his back, “We the first ones back?” he asked.
“So far yes. I’d imagine Edwood is probably lingering a bit. He did volunteer to investigate the Steamwheedle goblins.” he chuckled. Alchemy had always been a passion of Ed’s, originally because he wanted to open a bar in his native Drustvar and mixing drinks wasn’t too different from mixing potions… then after his unfortunate demise and time served as a slave to the Scourge, he wound up falling in with the Grand Apothecary Society in the Undercity. The result was that his talents went to aiding the forsaken in keeping their own bodies preserved and whole rather than helping his former countrymen get as drunk as a Boralus man on shore leave.
“Yeah sounds about right. We sniffed around the Venture Company’s holdings and, well, we’ll give you the details later, but its not good. Those Darkfuse guys are everywhere, but they’re not picking fights or intimidating the workers. It looks like they’re working with them willingly.” nodded Sam as she dismounted and tapped her hearthstone against the voidstrider’s beak, the bird vanishing back to the Dornogal stables in a swirl of magic. Samantha couldn’t use magic on her own, but magical tools were designed to work for anyone, whether they were a powerful archmagus or the only magic they could do was card tricks.
Then a stomping noise came from nearby as the familiar muscular shape of Galdia strode into view… with blood on her shield, sword, fists, boots, chest, pants, and a little on her cheek.
Nelen sighed and took off his glasses, pinching his nose. “Galdia, we needed you to look into what was going on with the marina discreetly. You do know what that word means, don’t you?” asked the mage.
Galdia shrugged, “I was being plenty ‘discreet’ Fullmoon. Someone tried to swipe my coin pouch, and I cut off the thief’s hand…” she growled as Sam unconsciously slid her own hands behind her back, “… ‘n someone got pissed off about it so I had to break his face ‘n then two more guys came over and I had to slam their heads together ‘n…”
Nelen sighed loudly, “Were they at least Darkfuse Cartel goblins?” he asked.
“Dunno, didn’t ask. Anyways I think there were about… twenty or so dead?” she grinned, “Might be more, I know I wounded a few that ran away pretty good. They coulda bled out.”
Nelen grumbled under his breath, but that was Galdia all over. The mag’har orc was a powerful warrior and the first person you’d want on your side in a melee, but as subtle as a kodo beast out of its mind on purple lotus. Still, they were the only six down there currently and you went to war with the army you had.
Then he sniffed and caught the scent of brimstone, turning around to see what looked like a horse-shaped infernal come galloping towards them. Sitting on the creature’s back was none other than Edwood Vargas, the forsaken’s face looking even more grim than an undead man normally looked.
He slowed to a halt and dismounted, snapping his fingers as the beast vanished back to the Nether in a woosh of felfire. “Ahoy mateys. Situation ain’t good. Steamwheedle’s town is full o’ Gallywix’s crew, ‘n they’re giving anyone who even looks at ‘em funny a bloody nose.” he scowled. “No sign of Noggenfogger either. Probably got ‘im tucked away somewhere secure.”
Galdia grinned, “Did ya kill any?” she asked, her arms folded over her chest.
The forsaken man looked her over, then replied, “… less than ye did… but aye, a couple Darkfuse got handsy, so I showed ‘em what for.”
Nelen nodded a bit, though he was still not happy. He didn’t want to get on Gallywix’s radar, and killing his men would likely at least warrant the attention of their immediate superiors if not alert trade prince himself that someone was interfering in the cartel’s operations.
“Well, I guess all we do now is wait for Gri-…” began the mage, then suddenly a loud sound filled the air as they all jumped.
BWONK-BWONK-BWONKBWONK-BWONK-BWOOOOOOOOOONK!
The group turned to see a goblin made car swerve around the nearby corner, almost going up on two wheels, and then shoot towards them with rather excessive speed, leaving twin trails of rubber on the pavement behind it. There was a sudden loud screeching sound as the brakes kicked on and sparks flew from underneath it, the vehicle crashing to a halt. It was a gaudy shade of pea soup green with a metal grill on front glowing cherry red, a huge engine sticking out of the top with the air above it steaming from the heat, and a set of exhaust pipes on either side of the back with smoke trickling out of them as the whole thing trembled from the motor’s vibrations.
The driver’s side door opened and out jumped Grimo, the goblin laughing loudly. “OH MAN I ALWAYS WANTED ONE O’ THESE!” he cheered. “Check it out guys! A genuine Bilgewater Breakneck Model G-99!” he grinned, pointing to it. “Some guy in Bilgewater’s part of town needed gold fast or else something something legs broken something so I bought his car off ‘im!”
Nelen made a face, then asked, “Well, did you manage to see what the Darkfuse were up to while you did that?”
Grimo shrugged, “Yeah, they’re there. I talked around with some o’ th’ locals, actually turns out I knew a few of ‘em from back in th’ day when I lived on Kezan.” he replied, turning off the car engine and pulling the key out of the ignition. “C’mon, I’ll tell ya all once I get some kaja-cola in me.” he replied, waving for them to follow as he walked into the bar.
Ten minutes later they were all seated around a table in a room full of people, mostly goblins but a few members of the Alliance and Horde who had also come to investigate this new business.
“… so yeah, I dunno about the rest of th’ Undermine, but Bilgewater has the Darkfuse right up their collective asses. Anyone even so much as sneezes wrong near one of ‘em and he’d better start running…” snarled Grimo, taking a big pull of his can of Kaja-Cola Dyno-Mite™ (New! Straight from Zandalar to your taste buds!)
Nelen nodded over a mug of conjured water. The mage never was a heavy drinker, but he didn’t want to drink anything that was on tap. He didn’t trust the… well, what passed for water in the Undermine. “From what everyone else said it seems the same all over. I wonder how on earth Gallywix managed to get this many goblins loyal to him over the other cartels.” he frowned.
“Depends on who it is Nelen.” replied Sam. “Some of them are doing it to protect themselves or their families, some of them just genuinely couldn’t find work that paid as well as the Darkfuse would, some of them are hoping that if they’re on the side of the nastiest boss in the Undermine that they’ll get other people to fear them, some of them just want new weapons to play around with.”
Nelen looked at her, “Annulus told you all that?” he asked.
Sam smirked, “In a manner of speaking, I just hung around and eavesdropped on some of the Darkfuse.” she explained.
“Aye… Steamwheedle’s town is in rough waters mateys.” added Edwood. “I dunno what Noggenfogger did ta tick Gallywix off, but they’re out there in force. Practically a prison. I saw ‘em beat a goblin who tried to leave town unconscious, then throw ‘im back in.” The forsaken man’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. He wanted to do something, but unlike Galdia he did know what restraint was. He had only fought two of the cartel members who had tried to question why he was there, and it wasn’t like they would be telling anyone what happened. Piles of ashes tended not to talk much.
Grimo sighed, “I tell ya guys, this ain’t th’ Undermine I remember from when I was a kid. Yeah it had its parts ya didn’t go into if ya knew what was good for ya, but every city has those.” he shook his head, “Jastor always has to fuck up anything good he gets his grubby hands o-…” he started, then scowled as a whistling noise came from his wrist and he smacked his hand over a watch sitting there. “SON OF A BITCH AGAIN!” he swore, pulling it off and looking at it. The watch didn’t have numbers or a clock face, rather it was lit up bright red and showed just two words: ‘Demon Detected!’
The rest of the group laughed a bit as Grimo dug out his watch repair tools, slapping it down on the table, “What th’ fuck do I gotta do?! I swear this thing is drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts!”
Samantha took a sip from her drink, a fruity mixed cocktail that the goblins swore was made with real fruit (but was likely powdered freeze dried things, not like fruit trees could grow down here,) when one of her tentacles raised up and pointed around the room in a manner like a cat raising its head and looking around… then it paused as the tip focused on the bar table along the far wall.
“Samantha.” echoed the voice of Annulus in her mind. “That goblin at the bar, the one in red and black… their aura is not a goblin’s aura. I sense fel energies coming from them.”
Samantha paused for a fraction of a second, her eye glancing towards the one in question, and she took him in. He was quite attractive for a goblin for one thing, unusually so given that she was an elf, and goblins usually held no interest to her. For another, he kept glancing at them out of the corner of his eye, though he was clearly pretending he wasn’t. Samantha had, over the years, become very good at noticing when she was being watched.
She slid her hand off the table, then poked Nelen in the hip and said out of the corner of her mouth, “Nelen, goblin at the bar, red and black with a ponytail… might not be a goblin…”
Nelen didn’t move when she poked him, having to do this trick with Samantha a few times before as he glanced over, then slipped one of his own hands off the table and began to channel arcane energy into his fingertips… “Got it… on three…” he replied, “One… two…” he nodded to the others. They weren’t as caught up as he was, but they could tell something was up. Galdia’s hand went to the hilt of her sword, Zhan-min quickly finished off the rest of his drink and leaned back with his arms hanging down as he cautiously reached for the handles of his maces, and Grimo slid the watch back on before moving as if to stand and stretch, his arms raising up… and one of his hands winding up near the grip of his gun. Edwood didn’t move, but he was ready to support as soon as they had a target, he’d just let Galdia charge first.
“THREE!” shouted Nelen as he leapt to his feet, thrust out his hand, and spoke a word that made the lights flicker purple for a moment as a nearly invisible ripple of arcane energy shot out from his fingertips aimed directly at the goblin that Sam had pointed out.
The goblin’s eyes bulged, and he moved to run, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge the spell and it hit him full on as he cried out in shock… and changed!
His skin turned a deep wine red as his eyes shifted to pure blue glowing orbs, his nose and ears shrank inwards as his body shot upwards, his clothing vanishing to be replaced with just a simple loincloth. A pair of horns sprouted from his head as a long-barbed tail shot out of his hips, and his feet shrank and shifted into a pair of hooves.
Leaning against the bar, disoriented by the burst of unraveling that Nelen had sent at him, was an incubus! A very very familiar one!
“You!” growled Nelen as his voice deepened, the growl becoming a very literal one as fur suddenly grew all over his body and his face elongated into a muzzle full of very sharp fangs, the magus abandoning the image of humanity to enter his worgen form.
Cenoon shook his head, pushing away the last of the stars, then looked up, then looked down at himself, then bit his lip and whimpered. “Oh… oh shit…”
Grimo’s gun was already trained on the demon as the others leapt to their feet, readying their own weapons. “So that’s it… watch wasn’t busted, we just kept walkin’ past you ‘n didn’t know it!” spat the goblin, looking very irritated. He’d thought his invention had broken when, in truth, it was working exactly as it was meant to!
Cenoon looked around as the rest of the patrons began to quickly clear out, the bartender behind him pulling the more expensive bottles down and hiding them behind the bar. They knew when a fight was coming! “N-now… this isn’t what it looks like… I mean… I’m going to just assume Dissonantia is dead, right?” he chuckled nervously, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.
The others weren’t having any of it, the group advancing towards him as he looked around frantically, but the exits were all crowded by goblins trying to get out of the line of fire and the windows were too small for him in his true form!
Sam’s daggers were drawn, Edwood already held a ball of felfire the size of a softball in one hand ready to throw, and Galdia was ready to add yet another notch in her belt for the day with her sword and shield already in hand.
Cenoon looked frantically between the oncoming heroes, letting out a whine in the back of his throat. This was bad. VERY BAD! If he died here, then there was nobody to summon him back to life! He’d be trapped in the Twisting Nether as little more than a ghost until he could revive on his own, which could take years!
Then he paused, squinting as he looked closely at the group. “Oh you have got to be kidding me…” he whispered, then he took a deep breath, flexed his manicured fingers, and said, “Come now everyone, can’t we just… get along?” he asked, flapping his wings as he blew on one of his upraised hands, a faint pink cloud smelling of perfume and roses gliding off his palm.
“Like fel we can!” spat Samantha, “You almost killed Sekhi back in Zereth Mortis!” the void elf retorted.
“No orc ever lets someone who threatens their shaman live, demon!” roared Galdia. The incubus wouldn’t be a good fight for her, but this was personal. She was a very traditional orc in many ways, and one of the tenants of orc culture that she grew up with was ‘honor and protect your clan’s shaman.’
Before they could move, however, a pair of large furry hands landed on their shoulders. “Hey, ya’ll… maybe we should hear him out.”
Sam and Galdia looked behind them, their expressions showing confusion and shock as Zhan-min smiled warmly, squeezing between them and moving to block the path between his allies and the incubus. “Look, we ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em since th’ Dragon Isles right? If they wanted ta hurt us they’d have tried ta pull somethin’ by now…” he chuckled, holding up his hands, his cheeks visibly flushed under the white parts of his facefur. “I’m sure if we all sit down, share a drink maybe, that we can work it all out…”
Cenoon nodded behind him, “Y-yes! That sounds lovely, doesn’t it?” he asked, smiling widely with his fingertips together, “I’ll just go grab my coat first, be right back! Don’t go anywhere!” he nodded, then with a clatter of hooves he ran for the nearest exit and began shoving goblins out of the way. A few swore at him and wound up with claw marks on their face from his razor-sharp fingernails.
Grimo stared, openmouthed, at the pandaren man. “WHAT THE FUCK IRONTUMMY?! HE’S GETTIN’ AWAY!” he shouted, trying to take aim at Cenoon through the crowd as Zhan-min moved between him and the demon.
“Grimo c’mon man… I’m sure whatever he did was on Dissonantia’s orders only. I bet if we just talk it out he’ll be real sorry for it all ‘n we can…” smiled Zhan-min as Cenoon shoved the last goblin out of the way and ran out into the street, then flexed his wings and shot up into the air. “… we can… uh… we can…” mumbled Zhan-min, blinking slowly and looking around the hotel, “… what was I doin’ just now?” he asked, sounding very confused.
Samantha slapped her forehead, “Dammit! Cenoon used his powers to screw with your emotions! You just held us all back while he ran away!” she swore.
Zhan-min’s expression went blank for a moment as the past several minutes came back to him, then his eyes narrowed. “Grimo, that car thingy ya’ll got. How fast can it go?” he asked, an unusual edge to the normally friendly pandaren man’s voice.
“Pretty fuckin’ fast, why?” he asked.
“Get yer keys.” growled Zhan-min.
Outside the Hotel Cenoon was gaining altitude, laughing in relief. “It worked! Hah, oh that’s just too funny… I could seduce one of the pandaren, I just got the wrong one last time!” he chuckled, shaking his head, “Still, they definitely know now… I need to get back to the apartment and we need to get out of here before…” he began, then he let out a shriek of terror as a blast of lightning smashed into the building he was flying next to, breaking some of the brickwork off to crash to the ground below!
Cenoon spun in midair and looked down to see a goblin-made car speeding towards him from below, Grimo at the wheel and standing in the backseat, one hand on the driver’s seat to brace himself, was Zhan-min. His other hand was raised and crackling with fresh lightning as he aimed it towards the incubus!
“YA DIRTY LOW-DOWN PIECE O’ SHIT!” roared the pandaren, “GET INTA MY HEAD ‘N MESS WITH MY HEART WILL YA?!” he thrust his arm out with a bear-like roar and a bolt of lightning shot into the sky, narrowly missing Cenoon’s wing!
“Oh, fuck me!” gasped the demon as he flapped his wings hard, trying to fly away from the car. He had the advantage in the air, he could fly over buildings or down narrow alleyways where the car couldn’t go… but as he soon found out Grimo was an excellent driver, and one who really didn’t care for traffic laws, speed limits, or pedestrian safety (not that the Undermine had any.)
The demon shot out between two buildings and let out a cry of alarm as an eruption of elemental fire melted a plastic potted plant on some goblin’s windowsill garden! He shot across the street as Grimo’s car came around the corner with a loud squeal of tires, a group of goblins scattering out of the road as he raced down it, the demon trying to get higher in the air to get out of Zhan-min’s range.
The shamanbrewer was furious! He was, truth be told, a bit of a romantic. He’d always hoped that one day the right man would come along and sweep him off his feet, and had been keeping his eye out for Mr. Right at all the bars he’d hit on his travels… but aside from a few one night stands he’d never found anyone. Still, he watched for his Prince Charming, preferably one with a good knowledge of fermentation techniques and a fondness for barhopping on a Saturday night, and to have Cenoon twist his feelings like that… well it certainly brought out an emotion in him.
Unfortunately for Cenoon, the emotion in question was pure rage.
Another bolt of lightning shot past the incubus as he soared above the streets of the Undercity, the demon trying to raise himself up higher as he flapped his wings frantically. “Blast and damn it!” he gasped, “I can’t head back now, I’ll lead them right to Gremori and Az’arad!” he whined, he needed those two! If nothing else, he couldn’t ask for better meat-shields!
Finally he spotted his chance. The Demolition Dome, the local fighting arena, was near and while he could fly over the gates, the car couldn’t follow him! The entrance was too narrow, they’d crash! He grinned and shot towards it as Grimo swore and slammed on the brakes, wrenching the wheel as the car went into a sideways slide, leaving blackened rubber trails on the pavement as it spun to a halt.
“DAMMIT!” shouted Zhan-min, slamming his fist on the car’s trunk, “GET BACK HERE!” he hollered after the incubus.
Grimo frowned, then he heard another sort of whistling and pulled out his gemstone, drawing the rune for connect as Nelen’s face appeared. “Did you guys catch Cenoon?” he asked.
Grimo shook his head, “Nope, little bastard flew over th’ Dome, I can’t chase him where there ain’t no roads!” he sighed.
Nelen, however, smirked. “You don’t have to. After you took off Sam had an idea. Cenoon can fly… but so can one of us, and there’s a teleporter in Dornogal now.”
Grimo raised an eyebrow, then looked up as a winged shadow passed over the car and grinned, “… clever girl…” he chuckled.
Cenoon circled above the arena, looking for a good hiding spot to land. “Okay, okay, find somewhere out of the way, cast my blood elf illusion, and get the fel back to the apartment before-…” he muttered nervously to himself, then he heard a sudden roar and looked up to see a blue and red streak shooting towards him. “AUGH!” he yelped, diving just in time to dodge a set of claws aimed at his face!
The newcomer circled, then slowed to a hover as their wings flapped to keep them aloft. There, in the air above the Demolition Dome with him, was Laurelgosa! “Hello, Cenoon was it? I heard you were causing trouble for my allies…” she hissed, baring her fangs.
“Shit…” whimpered the incubus. He remembered their encounter on the Dragon Isles, the evoker able to hold Az’arad at bay. He was nowhere near as powerful a fighter as the wrathguard! He flapped his wings and dove, gaining speed before leveling out and shooting off into the Undermine as Laurelgosa did likewise, giving chase!
The two soared between buildings, flying over crowds of goblins as shouts came from below, a few S.E.L.F.I.E. cameras clicking and flashing as they went over them. Cenoon was in even worse danger now! He could go where Grimo’s car couldn’t drive, but Laurelgosa could fly too! Anywhere he could go, so could she!
Then he yelped as a blast of scarlet fire hit a building next to him, two of the windows melting right out of their frames!
Also, Laurelgosa was a dracthyr and could breathe the same fire as a true dragon. That was not something he wanted to experience at all.
He swallowed, then focused. He had one option left, he’d set them up all over the Undermine when they first arrived… some of them had been removed, mostly by accident such as people not knowing what they were or just wearing off on their own… but if one of them was still active…
He grinned, feeling the burning sensation of fel in his mind, then swooped downwards and flew as fast as he could through an alleyway as Laurelgosa shot after him. The dracthyr didn’t bother with threats or banter or anything like that. She was a soldier, and he was her target. There would be time for that once her mission was complete.
Cenoon turned sharply down one alleyway, almost colliding with a dumpster, then flew towards a building nearby… a dead end! The alley ended in a cul-de-sac with tall buildings on all sides! Laurelgosa’s eyes narrowed, what was he doing?
Suddenly Cenoon flexed his fingers and shouted a word in demonic that made the air stink of blood and sweat and, on the wall ahead of him, a spraypainted mark flared and became a portal of felfire! He flapped hard and shot towards it as Laurelgosa snarled and did likewise, reaching out to grab his ankles and bring him to ground!
He felt a claw brush his hoof and whined anxiously… but before Laurelgosa could close the distance he vanished into the portal and, as soon as he was through, it immediately snapped shut!
Laurelgosa let out a sudden cry of alarm, her pink eyes going huge, and on the other side of the wall a goblin couple watching TV were suddenly startled by a loud slam behind their couch that rattled the wall and knocked a couple picture frames down.
Outside Laurelgosa was on the ground, her eyes rolled back in their sockets and her jaw agape, a nasty bruise forming on her face where she’d crashed into the wall once the portal had closed. The dracthyr had been flying too fast to stop and the building was too tall to fly over from that angle… so in adherence with the laws of physics (and possibly cartoons involving a coyote forever chasing a large bird) she had collided with the brick wall at high velocity and was now on her back, knocked silly.
A few minutes later she sat up slowly, hissing as she felt her face, then flexed her fingers and channeled the pure scarlet flames of the red dragonflight into her injured scales, the bruise slowly shrinking down as her loose teeth became secure once more. “Blast…” she whispered, the shame of letting the incubus escape hurting more than her injuries… but she was a soldier, and she would deal with that later.
She drew out her gemstone, then drew Nelen’s rune on it. His face appeared and she sighed, “Laurelgosa reporting. Mission failed, the incubus had an escape portal prepared and it closed before I could pursue him. He is gone.”
Elsewhere in the Undermine…
There was a thud from the closet in the living room of the apartment, then several curses, then the doorknob rattled before it was finally pushed open and Cenoon fell out of the pantry and onto the floor in a heap.
“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck! Gremori! Az’arad! Pack your things, we’re leaving now!” he called out into the apartment as Gremori walked out of her room, the felsworn having been taking a nap. Az’arad looked up from his seat on the sofa, grunting around a mouthful of fried… something. It came from one of the restaurants in Steamwheedle territory and when your cartel deals with alchemy a lot sometimes mystery meat is a mystery best left unsolved.
“What happened?” asked Gremori as she yawned hugely, stretching her arms above her head.
“THEY KNOW! Nelen got me with a spell that forced me out of my goblin disguise and I barely escaped them! They know we’re here! We have to leave right now!” he insisted, scrambling to his feet, his eyes wide with panic.
Az’arad snarled, then threw down the empty takeout bucket and stomped towards him, shaking his head in defiance.
Cenoon looked at him, “I don’t CARE if you want to kill the monk! I’m not going to die for your vendetta Az’arad! Without a warlock we’re extremely vulnerable and they damn near got me at least ten times that I counted!” he scowled back at him, folding his arms over his chest as his tail thrashed behind him.
Az’arad roared and flexed his claws, the windows rattling from the force of the wrathguard’s fury, but as he did Gremori looked thoughtful… a very odd look on her face.
“Hey, so we just need a warlock, right? ‘n not one of those wussy little ‘ends justify the means’ guys like Edwood, but a proper one like Dissonantia was.” she pointed out.
Cenoon looked at her, raising his eyebrow, “Yes, but how pray tell do you expect us to find a warlock like her? Put an advert in the local paper?” he sneered.
“I’ve got an idea.” suggested Gremori.
A moment later Cenoon was staring at her, his jaw hanging open.
It was a plan, it was an insane plan, it was a completely ludicrous plan that would almost certainly fail… but…
Opulent was too light a word. So were ostentatious, absurd, and gaudy-as-all-fel. The last one wasn’t a single word, but it still didn’t do it justice.
If it could be gold-plated, it was. If it could be made of something rare and valuable, it was. If it was from something now extinct to make it, all the better as that meant nobody else could get one.
There was a large desk set up near a window overlooking the lot outside and next to it was a polished deck made of wood that, if rumor was to be believed, was harvested from what remained of Teldrassil… which night elves would likely be VERY upset about if they knew.
“… and yeah, apparently now they’ve figured out we’re in th’ Ringin’ Deeps and we’re gettin’ people comin’ down boss. Lots of non-goblins wanderin’ around, ‘n we’ve heard rumors guys like Brann Bronzebeard ‘n Alleria Windrunner might’ve taken notice.” said a black-clad goblin as he stood before the desk in the penthouse, a strange sword with a canister of black blood built into it sheathed on his back.
Seated at the desk, in a large chair upholstered in honest-to-gods dragonhide, was Jastor Gallywix. Trade prince of the newly founded Darkfuse Cartel and de-facto ruler of the Undermine. He scowled, holding his cane in one hand as his other hand drummed its fingers on the sphere that made up the top.
“I see…” he growled, gritting his teeth. “Dammit, I guess sooner or later someone was gonna realize that we’re harvesting black blood.” he frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Last thing we need is th’ Horde ‘n Alliance stickin’ their collective noses in our business. Get th’ word out to th’ rest of the cartel. Watch ‘em, but don’t tangle with anyone from either side unless they’re gettin’ too close to our… project.” nodded Gallywix. “Too many of ‘em go ‘missin’ ‘n that might get th’ attention of someone like Thrall or that Proudmoore bitch… ‘n that’s the last fuckin’ thing we need.”
The goblin saluted him, “You got it boss!” he replied, then he turned and walked out of the penthouse as Jastor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
As he did he heard a sort of sudden change in the air behind him, like a breeze despite being both indoors and underground, and then a woman’s voice. An elf woman’s voice. “It would seem we have a complication Gallywix.”
Jastor cringed, his eyes going wide. “Nah! Nothin’ of th’ sort! Don’t you worry, I’ve got my best men on th’ repair job right now! They’re gonna get it fixed in no time flat, you’ll see!” he stammered out, chuckling nervously.
“Will they now…” the voice replied, “You had better hope so… or else…” then suddenly there was a swirl of shadows and a figure appeared, leaning over his desk with their hands resting on it, their inky black eyes locked onto Jastor’s. She was an elf woman with dark purple hair and pale skin, runes etched into her flesh and her eyes like little more than gaping black holes.
“… I will become extremely angry with you.” hissed Xal’atath, before she disappeared again in a burst of darkness.
Jastor whimpered, his body pressed as far back as he could in his chair, the goblin’s podgy face slick with sweat. He sat up and took an embroidered handkerchief out of his desk drawer, wiping his face with it, then sighed. “Fuck me… it’ll be worth it… it’ll all be worth it. Just do th’ job…” he muttered to himself, getting up and walking to the window, gazing out at the Undermine.
The building was called the Gallajio, a massive casino and office building, the headquarters of the Darkfuse Cartel and Jastor’s personal palace to rule over all he surveyed. He scowled. It was only with Xal’atath’s help that he’d managed to get where he was now after fleeing Azshara, but now the harbinger had him by the throat. Finish the project he was doing for her, or else.
“If I get my fuckin’ hands on whoever opened that hole in th’ Ringing Deeps… they’re gonna wish they were never damn well born!” he growled, clenching his teeth.
The Undermine, Downtown
A goblin man walked along the city streets humming to himself. One might notice how, even by the standards of non-goblins, he was quite handsome with glossy black hair tied in a tight ponytail and enough stubble to make him look more rouge-ish than unkempt. He wore a black silk button down shirt with a red suit jacket and trousers, and a pair of polished black leather shoes on his feet.
He was heading to the bar at the Incontinental Hotel in the hopes of finding a new pretty young thing to play with back home, his current girlfriend nearing their… he chuckled at the thought… expiration date.
He walked inside past the tables, hearing the babble of voices all around, then noticed a group of people nearby who weren’t entirely made up of goblins… and froze.
“I still can’t believe Lor’themar…” growled Edwood in frustration, the warlock supping from a hip flask that smelled strongly of rubbing alcohol, aconyte, and several other things that would likely not be safe to drink. “We bring ‘im accusations that one o’ his bleedin’ Magisters is engagin’ in Scourgecraft of all feckin’ things ‘n the pointy eared git says ‘Oh terribly sorry chaps, can’t do it now! Far too busy…’” It had been several days since their talk with the Lord Reagent of Quel’thalas and Edwood was still angry over the outcome.
Next to him was Nelen Fullmoon, the magus nodding in response, drinking a glass of conjured water. He had considered getting some on tap, seen the shade of it, and decided against it. “I mean, I understand where he’s coming from. We’re up against a foe like Xal’atath and all. At least he did say he would investigate it once the situation had cooled down again.” he replied.
Edwood just grumbled under his breath as the felfire flickered in his eyes, the undead taking another gulp from his flask. To say that he was furious was an understatement. Had he been more powerful he would have fried Alalestria on the spot back on the Siren Isle, consequences be damned. Enslaving someone via necromancy and domination magic? The techniques of the Scourge? If word got out that one of the sin’dorei had done that every forsaken on Azeroth would be howling for her blood, but Lor’themar had insisted that with the threat of Xal’atath they had to focus on ensuring that there would still be a world to prosecute her in, promising that once the war was over they would immediately look into these accusations.
Given the devastation that had befallen Silvermoon during the Third War and how it had been made possible by one of their own defecting to the Scourge, the elven necromancer Dar’Khan Drathir, the sin’dorei took such accusations very seriously. They would never risk such again could they help it, and it was only because of how deadly a foe the Harbinger was that they weren’t already investigating. Right now, however, Alalestria was a magister and they needed all the magisters they could get to combat the threat of Xal’atath.
Grimo was on his third can of kaja-cola himself, the goblin looking exceptionally happy compared to the other two… but given this was the first time since leaving Bilgewater Harbor he had access to a steady supply of ‘The Favorite Drink of Goblinkind Over 100 Years and Counting’ and not just in Kaja-Cola Classic™ but also Kaja-Cola Cherry™, Kaja-Cola Lime™, Kaja-Cola Crunchy™, and Kaja-Cola Motherlode™ (Now With EVEN MORE Kajamite Goodness,) he was determined to make the most of it. He wasn’t thrilled with finding out Jastor Gallywix was back, but having a steady supply of his favorite (and near impossible to get outside of goblin settlements) soft drink helped a lot.
Behind them the goblin in the red and black suit was staring at them out of the corner of his eye, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to keep a straight face.
Suddenly there was a whistling noise and a red light began flashing on Grimo’s wrist. He frowned, looking down at his arm, then grumbled. “Ah fuck there it goes again…” he growled, taking a device off his wrist and getting out a toolkit with very small tools designed for delicate work.
“Hm? Something wrong?” asked Nelen.
“That fuckin’ demon detector I made. Its been going off randomly since we got here.” he grumbled, opening up the back. “I swear I’ve checked it over like ten times now. I never got a chance to make sure it would hold up long term before Az’arad ‘n Gremori raided my office.”
The goblin in the red and black suit swallowed nervously, looking around, then very carefully and as nonchalantly as possible turned around and began to make his way back to the bar’s entrance as quickly as he could.
“Where ya goin’ Cedric?” asked the bouncer, a burly goblin man with one arm covered in tattoos and the other arm a massive steampunk mechanical limb with a built-in wrist-blade. Good for dealing with the rowdier customers.
“F-forgot my wallet! Be right back!” he insisted, quickly exiting and making his way back up the street as fast as dignity would allow.
Grimo paused, then closed the back of the device and flipped it over, “See? There it goes, now it’s showin’ all clear again. Fuckin’ thing…” he grumbled.
‘Cedric’ was jogging up the street now, then he quickly ducked down an alleyway, then down a second one. He muttered ‘shake them off, shake them off’ under his breath, unaware that he wasn’t being followed by anyone. Finally, he emerged on a side-street next to a condo house where he ran to the front door, unlocked it with a sturdy looking key, then ducked inside and slammed the door shut, leaning his weight against it.
In a whoosh of felfire Cedric the goblin vanished and leaning against the door was Cenoon the incubus. The tall, scarlet-skinned demon wearing just his loincloth as his manicured hands gripped the sides of the door frame in panic. “WE’RE IN DEEP SHIT!” he shouted.
Sitting on a couch in the living room were Gremori and Az’arad, watching a goblin-made TV showing a fight between two cybernetically enhanced animals in the Gallajio’s arena. Az’arad was sharpening his battleaxe as they watched while Gremori was drinking something out of a cup made from a goblin’s skull. The skull had the name ‘Nizzi Rapidfuse’ engraved on the forehead and occasionally a sob could be heard coming from it.
“… why?” asked Gremori, raising her eyebrow as she leaned back in the sofa.
Cenoon released the door frame and walked towards them as Gremori set the skull down on the end table next to the couch, the incubus’ hooves clattering on the floor with each step. “I was just at the Incontinental Hotel and Avalon and Savage United are HERE in the UNDERMINE! Grimo still has his device and it went off when I walked past them!”
Gremori and Az’arad looked to each other, then they both grinned widely as Az’arad picked up his axe in both hands and Gremori held her hands up, her fel-infused knuckle-dusters appearing on them in a whoosh of felfire.
“NO! NO NO NO NO NO!” shouted Cenoon, holding up his hands and shaking his head back and forth, “Are you mad?!” he asked, then he sighed and rubbed his forehead, “Scratch that, you’re both insane. My POINT is they are HERE and ALIVE. That means that they fought whatever starcursed nightmare Dissonantia was turning into AND WON.” he pointed out.
Gremori let out a little squeal and clapped her hands as Az’arad sneered, gripping his axe handle as he licked his lips at the idea of fighting challenging foes once more.
Cenoon saw their reactions and scowled, “STOP GETTING EXCITED! THAT MEANS THEY’RE FAR MORE POWERFUL THAN WE ARE!” he insisted. “They are strong and outnumber us! If we fought them, we would be defeated, and without Dissonantia that means Az’arad and I would be trapped as bodiless entities in the Twisting Nether for the next eon or so and a one-way ticket to the Shadowlands for you Gremori!” he insisted.
Gremori frowned, then flicked her wrists as her weapons vanished and she picked up Nizzi’s skull again, pulling on the straw sticking out of the hole she drilled in the braincase with a wet slurping sound before replying, “Alright buzzkill, what do you think we should do then?” she asked.
Cenoon frowned, “Lay low, and leave the Undermine first chance we get.” he nodded firmly.
At this Az’arad growled angrily and rose up from the couch, flexing his muscles. Retreat? From them?! He glared at the incubus, his fangs bared as he jabbed a finger at his lower jaw, showing a gap where one of them was missing.
“Yes yes, I know you’re still angry at Jaie…” sighed Cenoon, “But without Dissonantia to resummon us if we die, we only get one chance. I’ll try to keep an eye on them and back away if I see Grimo so his watch doesn’t pick up on me being there… but at the first hint that they’re aware of our presence we need to leave.” he nodded firmly.
Az’arad and Gremori looked at each other, the fel-elf shrugging her shoulders as the wrathguard scowled, then stomped back to the couch and slammed down onto it with enough force to make Gremori bounce a few inches into the air. Az’arad picked up his axe and whetstone and went back to work as on the TV a cyborg gorilla smashed in the face of a cyborg direhorn against the wall of the arena.
Cenoon sighed at this, then with a swirl of felfire Cedric the Goblin returned, the disguised demon peeking out the doorway and up and down the street, then looking back at his two fearsome allies. “Right, I’m going to go back to the hotel and see whats going on. If they’re here I doubt its just them. You guys just… stay here and keep watching your bloodsports.” he nodded, walking out of the condo and back up the street.
Gremori shrugged, draining the last of her drink from the skull-cup, then she sighed and leaned back in the couch, putting her hands behind her head and her feet up on the coffee table. “Uuuuuugh… great, no more fun down here, I guess. We picked this place because the Alliance and Horde weren’t here, and now they probably are.” she frowned.
Az’arad just shrugged. He was eons old. It wasn’t the first time he had to abandon a hunting ground… but he did like it here. It was comfortable enough, the food was good (he was finding he rather liked deep fried things, and if there was one thing goblins could do it was deep fry everything,) and the goblins that Cenoon lured home screamed in a way he found pleasing. He didn’t want to leave, but he was no fool. As much as he loved a good fight with a strong foe, Cenoon was right. If either of them died then that was the end of their fun for a very long time.
Demons didn’t die permanently. They would eventually revive in the Twisting Nether… but the key word was eventually. It could take years, centuries, perhaps even millennia. He didn’t want that. Countless ages of being a disembodied demon soul, bored out of his mind, did not appeal to him.
So, for now, they would have to wait and see what would happen with the return of their foes.
Next to him Gremori sighed, “Man… I miss Dissonantia… she was a bitch, literally come to think of it, but she was at least fun…”
Az’arad grunted in agreement… but the Witch of Blackwald Forest was no more. They didn’t know what had become of her at first, but if Avalon and Savage United were here then the smart money was on her death. Dissonantia would not have let them escape after becoming a starcursed horror like that, so the only way they were alive is if she was not.
The two grumbled in frustration and soon the only sounds in the room were the scrape of Az’arad’s whetstone and the TV announcer belting out advertisements for new Kaja-Cola Persimmon™ for that Sweet Pandaren Flavor!
It had been quite a night. Uh’kue had caught up with Shalandrae in Dornogal while the druid was heading into town with Aziguni to replenish the draenei’s supply of arrows and to buy a new herb pouch for herself after her old one had finally worn out on her. The zandalari woman had insisted on meeting with everyone she could and described the vision she and Orwenya had shared.
On their way back out of the caverns below Orwenya had sensed something in the Ringing Deeps and had split off to investigate, Uh’kue telling her she would relay her information to her allies and return.
A vision of hammers in the deep, a loud grinding sound, and what seemed to be strange machines…
Grimo had been particularly interested in this, something about what she described felt very familiar to the goblin, and the members of Avalon and Savage United had discussed this new business over dinner that night.
Afterwards, the group had all bedded down for the evening in the hold of the ship, the silence broken only by the occasional snore or the creak of a hammock, when Sekhi had sat bolt upright so fast she’d almost jumped out of her bed and cried out in shock.
The sudden shrieking sound of the vulpera had woken the rest of Avalon and Savage United and, after Nitika had managed to get the diminutive shamaness to calm down, she had explained that she had just felt the earth cry out deep below them. A huge crashing sound, like a giant bell slamming as hard as it could, had woken her out of her sleep.
The next morning Nelen and Grimo had gone into Dornogal to discover what they could and found that the new development was in fact the talk of the town. A cavern wall in the Ringing Deeps had collapsed and behind it were goblins. LOTS of goblins. A massive goblin operation was going on.
The two of them went back to the Glittering Prize straightaway to report what they had found out, and a plan was formed.
“We must look into this. I don’t know if its connected to Xal’atath and her followers evacuating Azj-kahet, but either way its something big.” nodded Nelen as he pointed to the southern end of a map of the Ringing Deeps.
Grimo nodded, his arms folded over his chest. “Yeah, I checked around with some of th’ Bilgewater boys in town and word is there’s goblins down there with a cartel nobody recognizes. Black armor ‘n weird ass weapons. Nasty ones.” he grunted. Some might assume a goblin would get offended if people thought a massive goblin operation was problematic, but Grimo knew better. That many goblins in one place could be a huge business venture… or it could wind up with the sort of ‘incident’ that leaves a dent in the planet. That and the idea of an unknown cartel worried him.
There were four major goblin cartels on Azeroth.
The Bilgewater Cartel was Grimo’s and its trade prince, what the goblins called the leaders of the cartels, was Monte Gazlowe, though he didn’t often use the title. Under his leadership the Bilgewater were becoming a haven for goblins, Azeroth’s first worker’s union. He encouraged dissent because he wanted to do right by his cartel, would insist on shouldering his own share of the load, and even offered fair pay and sick leave (a novel concept to goblin society.)
The Steamwheedle Cartel was based out of Gadgetzan and led by Marin Noggenfogger, a world-renowned alchemist and inventor of the famous Noggenfogger Elixir. His cartel was at the cutting edge of alchemical science, and they were credited with some groundbreaking work. Edwood was a very avid follower of their progress, being a member of the Grand Apothecary Society himself (what remained of it following the Blood War anyway.)
The Blackwater Cartel was based out of Booty Bay and its leader was Baron Revilgaz. A former pirate, he had turned legitimate, and these days was the de-facto master of shipping for all Azeroth, goblin or otherwise. For both the Horde and Alliance it was well known, no matter what you needed the Blackwater Cartel could get it to you if the price was right.
Finally, the Venture Company. Their leader had been killed during the Blood War and nobody really knew who ran the show now… but they had a horrible reputation among the Alliance and Horde, and even other goblins. Deforestation, strip mining, kidnapping, press ganging, nothing was off the table for the Venture Company.
The four goblin cartels were well established and had existed since before the opening of the first Dark Portal. The emergence of a fifth cartel would mean a goblin was styling themselves a new trade prince and either had somehow amassed a lot of capital without someone from the other four stepping in… or someone was helping them.
There were many worrying thoughts as to who that someone might be.
Nelen nodded, “Right, we need to investigate this. Grimo and I have already decided we’ll go… but I’d prefer to take several of us, six maybe. The rest of us can stay here until we have a better idea of whats going on down there and keep watch in case something happens in Khaz Algar proper.” he explained.
“I’ll join in matey.” grinned Edwood, “Goblin alchemy is somethin’ I’m always keen ta learn more about, ‘n ye might need someone who ain’t afraid ta fight fire with fire, aye?” chuckled the forsaken man as his imp Guzzle cackled and kicked his legs from his usual seat on Edwood’s shoulder.
“I’ll come too.” nodded Samantha, “I did a few ‘corporate espionage’ jobs for the cartels back when I was in the Horde and…” she paused as a tendril in her hair twitched a few times, “… Annulus says that she feels like something big is happening down there. She wants to see it for herself.” she frowned.
Galdia grinned, “If there is somethin’ big happening then I want in!” she laughed, “I’ve been bored without any nerubians to fight anyway!” the orc flexed her arms, her muscles pressing out against her skin.
Nelen nodded, “That may not be a bad idea… a sturdy melee fighter may come in handy…” he replied, sharing a glance with Grimo as they both shared the same thought. If there was trouble down there, the best way to deal with it was to point Galdia at it and stand out of the splash zone until she was done. “Anyone else?” asked the magus.
“Weeeeeeeeeell…” came a voice with a thick southern drawl. “Ya’ll said th’ goblins are down there… ‘n they’re th’ ones that made that Kaja-cola stuff, right?” asked Zhan-min. “If there’s one thing I’d never gotten a chance ta try in my brewin’, its kajamite.” he chuckled, “So if ya’ll don’t mind me taggin’ along…”
Grimo’s eyebrow rose at that, “… hm… elementally infused kajamite beer…” he grinned, stroking his chin as his stubble made a rasping sound against his gloves. “… now that sounds like a business venture I’d like to be part of!” he grinned widely.
Nitika snorted in an annoyed way but just rolled her eyes at him. Zhan-min would be the one actually experimenting with it, and at least his track record of ‘oops I blew it up’ was a lot better than Grimo’s.
It wasn’t zero… but Jaie had survived and recovered, so she’d take that.
Nelen nodded, “Alright then, gather what you need today. Tomorrow we’ll head down into the Ringing Deeps and see whats going on.” he said as the meeting broke up.
The Next Day…
The six adventurers had traveled down into the Ringing Deeps and found a massive goblin undertaking was well underway, even more than they’d heard rumors of! With Samantha’s help they’d snuck past a hastily constructed toll checkpoint, the void elf using Annulus’ power to hide the group from sight, and after she had stolen some paperwork from the local goblins Nelen had managed to forge them proper documentation.
With Grimo acting as their recruiter for a business venture on behalf of the Bilgewater Cartel they were able to enter the work site and upon reaching the end of it, Grimo’s eyes lit up.
Right there, built into the wall, was a massive rocket on rails set into a tunnel leading deep into the bowels of Azeroth.
“It can’t be…” whispered the goblin as he stepped forward, “That’s… that’s what we’d use on Kezan to…” he grinned widely, his sharp pointed teeth visible as his lips pulled back. “Guys, we gotta check this out!” he nodded.
The others glanced among themselves, but before they could stop him Grimo had jogged up to the goblin manning the controls and presented the forged credentials… along with a few gold coins to help ‘grease the wheels.’
The rocket’s operator shrugged and quickly pocketed the coins, then nodded. “Right, passage for six it is then buddy. Get yer team aboard ‘n hold on tight.”
Grimo looked back at the group and waved, “C’MON YOU MOOKS! TIME’S WASTIN’!” he shouted as the others quickly followed him, a hatch opening on the side of the rocket as he quickly ducked into it and took the most comfortable chair (and the only one with a safety belt.)
Nelen and the others squeezed inside, the rocket was rather cramped for non-goblins, as Nelen took a seat on what looked like a wooden kitchen chair bolted to the floor. “Grimo, what exactly is going on?” he asked.
Grimo smirked, “Ed, remember how I was talkin’ about th’ Undermine back in Mmarl?” he asked as the forsaken man tried and failed to make himself comfortable on a large beanbag chair.
“Uh, aye?” he asked as Zhan-min managed to squeeze onto two lawn chairs stuffed next to each other with great difficulty.
“Well, this is how we would get there! Unless I’m wrong, this rocket is goin’ straight to th’ Undermine!” replied the goblin.
At this point the group noticed just how excited Grimo looked, and it slowly sunk in they’d followed him inside of something known for going very fast and exploding.
“Uh… is it too late to lea-…” began Samantha as she tried to rise from the easy chair she’d picked, just as the hatch on the rocket slammed shut and locked with an audible click.
A speaker built into it crackled and a goblin’s voice said, “Express rocket from Khaz Algar to Slam Central Station departing in ten, nine, skip a few, ZERO!”
A moment later there was a tremendous explosion and several of the chairs came unbolted from the floor as the rocket shot off at the kind of speed normally reserved for bullets.
Edwood and Zhan-min were slammed hard against the back wall as the sheer force of speed pinned them in place, unable to move at all! Samantha and Nelen clung to their chairs for dear life as Galdia let out a whoop of excitement and gripped her armrests as hard as she could. Grimo let out a similar cheer, holding onto his seatbelt half from excitement and half to make sure it didn’t come undone as the rocket sped off through the tunnel!
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FEL IS GOING ON?!” demanded Nelen as he felt his eyes slowly press back in their sockets. He could swear it felt like the rocket had gone upside down several times, but the speed prevented it from stopping.
“JUST HOLD ON TIGHT ‘N TRY NOT TO BITE YER TONGUE OFF!” called Grimo back to him as their ride thundered along, a loud BANG from behind them filling the air as the rocket suddenly, impossibly, picked up speed!
“KEELHAUL IT ALL GRIMO! I CAN’T FECKIN’ MOVE!” shouted Edwood as he tried to move from the back wall but only managed to twitch one bony finger.
“ME NEITHER! THIS THING IS WORSE ‘N A MAD MUSHRAN!” yelled Zhan-min, his face pressed back to reveal his fangs as the force of their movement kept him immobilized as well!
“GOOD! YER SAFER THAT WAY!” called Grimo back to them, “JUST HOLD ON! IT SHOULDN’T BE MUCH LONGER!”
“MUCH LONGER UNTIL WHAT GRIMO?!” cried Samantha, gripping the armrests of her chair so hard her knuckles were turning blue, the tentacles in her hair thrashing around in panic.
Then the radio crackled again.
“Arrivin’ in Slam Central Station in three… two…” it said.
SLAM!!!
Grimo bounced forward as Galdia and Samantha managed to hold onto their chairs enough to keep from getting thrown out of them. Nelen smashed into the back of Grimo’s chair with a loud wolf like yelp of pain, as above them came a loud scream as both Edwood and Zhan-min shot over the rest of them to crash into the front of the rocket’s compartment before landing on the floor in a heap of fur and rotten flesh.
“We have now arrived at Slam Central Station, downtown Undermine. Mind the gap as you leave and thank you for choosing Rocketbus Transport.” the speaker said in a cheerful goblin woman’s voice as the hatch opened.
Grimo unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out with a grin, jogging outside as Galdia leapt up and followed him, laughing at the wild ride they’d just experienced. Samantha followed rather more shakily than her, but unhurt, as Nelen stumbled out and winced, gasping as he held his arm. He could feel a bruise forming.
“Gordrin’s fangs that was insane… Zhan-min, could I trouble you for some healing mag-…” he began, but the large pandaren man shoved him out of the way, looked around, spotted a trash receptacle, and ran forward to it before sticking his head over it. A moment later his shoulders and back heaved as he retched loudly.
Edwood stumbled out, clicking his jaw back into place as he did. “I don’t blame ‘im… worse ‘n sailin’ through a typhoon that was…” muttered the warlock as he snapped his fingers, Guzzle appearing on his shoulder in a woosh of felfire. He’d unsummoned him just before the rocket had taken off and was convinced his imp would have been a smear on the wall inside if he hadn’t.
Galdia and Grimo had left their companions back on the Glittering Prize, reasoning a smaller team would be able to move faster, and Nelen would be able to open a portal for them if necessary.
“So… where the fel are we…” muttered Samantha, looking rather queasy herself after that as Zhan-min staggered upright and coughed a few times as they took in their surroundings properly.
They were standing in a massive building with several other rockets identical to the one they’d arrived in set up for passengers, several dozen goblins milling about. Some of them looked rather amused and Samantha caught a few of them saying things like ‘hah, must be their first time’ and ‘looks like their bear couldn’t take the speed eh’ and such… and then they saw the exit, and what lay beyond it.
Nelen adjusted his glasses, the pain in his arm momentarily forgotten as he and the others stared. Ahead of them was Grimo, grinning ear to ear. “Guys, welcome to th’ Undermine! Goblin Capital o’ Azeroth!”
Ahead of them was a gigantic city like none they’d ever seen before. They’d seen goblin buildings sure, small squat things made of sheet metal and riveted together mostly… but this city had roads made not of cobbles or bricks but some smooth paving that they didn’t recognize. The buildings were massive, easily five or six floors tall on average, and the windows were lit up brighter than any candle flame could manage. Neon signs hung off every other wall, flashing and flickering and sometimes sparking (though they probably weren’t supposed to do that) in all colors of the rainbow.
Down the path from the station, visible in the distance, was a gigantic building easily three times as tall as any of the others, and beyond it was an even bigger one with huge spotlights infront lighting up the cavern (though it was so far away they couldn’t make out any details.)
There was no sky above them, no stars or clouds, just a dark cavern ceiling held back by metal reinforcements… and along the streets thundered massive machines. Goblin vehicles like a carriage without horses that raced through the city at breakneck speed. They had seen Grimo’s deathwheel and flying machine, but these were new…
Grimo sniffed and wiped a tear from his eye, “Ah man I haven’t been back here since I was just a little squirt…” he sighed wistfully, “C’mon, first stop is the Incontinental Hotel. I remember th’ way.” he nodded as he started off through the city, the others hesitantly following him.
The group set out through the city, the other five a bit more hesitant than Grimo as they tried to take in the bizarre sights around them. Take a group of people from a world like tenth century Earth, where people still thought the water wheel was a neat invention, and drop them unceremoniously into any borough in modern day New York City, and the reaction wouldn’t be entirely dissimilar. Even for people who had traveled to other worlds and seen the technological wonders of the Draenei, this was a shock.
Grimo pulled a cigar out of his pocket and bit the tip off, lighting it with a match before taking a long pull and exhaling a cloud of smoke through his nostrils. He just couldn’t stop grinning. This felt like homecoming to the goblin, returning to your childhood neighborhood (though that was still buried under lava rock on Kezan, he’d only ever visited the Undermine as a child.)
“Its been too damn long… This is th’ beatin’ heart of Goblin Society guys. A city built by th’ cartels, for th’ cartels.” he grinned, “This is where business happens, where invention happens, where everything happens!”
Samantha however looked around with a frown, “Doesn’t seem like much of that is happening Grimo…” she warned.
“Eh?” asked the goblin, looking over his shoulder at her.
“Annulus says something here feels wrong… and… she’s not a void creature, but she was in the void long enough to be able to become like one. She can sense emotions. Annulus says this place is heavy with… despair, desperation… misery…” she frowned.
The goblin slowed, looking back at her, “Well yeah. Being in th’ cartels is a cutthroat business. Deals can turn sour ‘n fortunes can vanish overnight. Shit happens.” he grunted.
“Worse than that.” replied Samantha, “She says its here. The black blood. She can sense it all around us…” she warned.
Then a loud gasp of pain came from a nearby alleyway. The group’s heads turned towards it as everyone’s hands went to their weapons out of instinct. In the alleyway was a group of goblins beaten black and blue, three massive hobgoblins in black armor standing over them.
“Boss says youse gotta pay what youse owe!” snarled one of the huge creatures as he cracked his knuckles.
“B-be reasonable man! We don’t got any moolah left! We paid all we had last week!” stammered one of the goblins, blood running down his chin from where one of the hobgoblins had kicked him in the teeth.
The third chuckled, reaching back for his weapon… then pausing as he felt something on his wrist. He grunted, trying to pull his arm free, but found he couldn’t move it. “Huh?” he frowned, looking behind him only to see a fist in orcish armor come speeding the other way and with a sickening crunch it smashed his nose in half and crushed it into his face!
The hobgoblin fell to the ground and roared in pain as the other two spun around to see Grimo, Nelen, Galdia, Edwood, and Zhan-min glaring at them. Grimo’s rifle was trained on the head of the lead hobgoblin and Nelen was already in his worgen form, arcane energy crackling across his claws. Zhan-min’s maces were ready, flames swirling around one as wind howled around the other, and Edwood was holding a ball of felfire.
Galdia cracked her knuckles, then drew her sword and slid her arm into her shield’s straps, growling. “Only cowards attack people who ain’t gonna fight back… am I gonna be killing cowards today?” she snarled, baring her fangs and tusks.
The two remaining hobgoblins scowled and one of them pulled a strange gun from his back, the other drawing a massive sword. Both weapons had canisters attached to them, the gun for an ammunition cartridge and the sword having it built into the flat of the blade with hoses attached to the metal.
“Youse must be new in town…” growled the hobgoblin, “If youse is dumb enough ta take on th’ Darkfuse Cartel!”
Galdia grinned widely, “You don’t know half of what we’ve fought, you’re just extra-ugly ogres to me!” she laughed, raising her sword as she prepared to charge, “LOK’TAR OGA-…” she roared, then suddenly there was a burst of shadows behind the two as Samantha and Annulus appeared. The ren-dorei’s blades were a blur as she slashed across the hobgoblin’s jugular as Annulus drove her own shadowy copies of Sam’s weapons into the ribs of his fellow.
The lead hobgoblin fell to his knees as his sword crashed to the ground, his eyes wide as he slapped his hands to his throat to try to stem the flow of blood, but it spurted out from between his fingers as he fell forward, the other one’s jaw falling open as a spurt of crimson shot out of it, his lung punctured and collapsing as he fell onto his side. Within seconds both were still.
Samantha let out a breath as Annulus’ temporary body vanished in a puff of shadowy motes, “That was close… yeah, guys, don’t fuck with them.” she warned, “Annulus figured out what she’s sensing, their weapons are…” she began to explain, then there was a sudden flash of crimson behind her, the ren’dorei’s eyes going wide.
Galdia was a blur, the mag’har tackling the elf out of the way as the others dove to the side as a blast of dark red energy shot between them and slammed into the wall of a building… and melted a hole through it!
The third hobgoblin, the one that Galdia had punched, was sitting up and holding a gun of his own. He growled and tried to take aim again but before he could there was a loud BANG and the hobgoblin froze, his eyes crossing as he tried to see the gaping hole between them, his jaw falling open, then slowly his body accepted ‘welp, I guess I’m dead’ as he fell backwards. Grimo blew smoke from the barrel of his rifle, then nodded.
Galdia stood up and helped Samantha to her feet, the orc grunting in annoyance at the sneak attack. “Forgot how thick those thing’s skulls are. Anyway, weapons are bad?” she asked.
Samantha took a deep breath, then shook her head, “Worse… look close at the ammo cartridge on that gun.” she nodded to Grimo.
The goblin holstered his gun and walked forward, then leaned in and swore as he suddenly jumped back. “Fuckin’ fel! That thing is full of black blood!” he shouted.
There was a groan from nearby and the others tensed, then relaxed as they saw the goblins who had been attacked by the trio of hobgoblins huddled in the corner.
“Zhan-min?” asked Nelen.
“On it.” nodded the shaman as he holstered his weapons and took out a small totem that swirled with the pure clean energy of water. Zhan-min stepped forward, then began channeling it into the goblins, focusing on healing the worst of their injuries… but it was slow. He was more of a fighter, nowhere near as good at healing as Sekhi or Nitika.
“You shouldn’ta helped us…” muttered the goblin who had been arguing with the hobgoblins when they arrived. “It’ll be worse next time. We’ll be lucky if they don’t kill us…” he grumbled miserably.
Grimo frowned, stepping forward, “If who don’t kill ya?” he asked, “What th’ fuck was all that? Darkfuse Cartel? Black blood weapons?” he asked.
The goblin stared at Grimo, his eyes darting over his face as if wondering if he was screwing with him, “… shit… shit you’re serious. You had no idea…” he gasped, “Oh fuck you guys should go to Slam Central ‘n get th’ fuck outta the Undermine before their boss finds out.”
Grimo snorted, “Buddy, me ‘n my crew are veterans of a lotta bullshit. Who’s their boss?” he asked.
The goblin glanced at the wall of the building behind them, then pointed up at a poster on it. Grimo’s gaze followed his finger, then his eyes bulged as the remaining cigar fell from his mouth onto the pavement below.
On the wall was a poster showing a large heavyset goblin man in a vest and tophat with several chins, pointing at the viewer. Under it was the following: “Join the Darkfuse Cartel today! Great benefits! Cutting Edge weapons! We won’t kill you!”
Below that, in large bold print, were the words: “Trade Prince Gallywix wants YOU!”
“… Jastor…” whispered Grimo in shock.
Jastor Gallywix, former leader of the Bilgewater Cartel. The goblin who had revealed the secret of Azurite to Sylvannas Windrunner which had led to the Blood War, who had vanished from his home in Azshara when Sylvannas had abandoned the Horde to flee to the Shadowlands.
Grimo snarled in fury, then pulled out his gun, leveled it at the poster, and with a loud BANG the face of the goblin on it was replaced with a scorch mark surrounding a bullet hole in the wall behind it.
Jastor Gallywix had also attempted to enslave the majority of the Bilgewater Cartel when they fled Kezan as Mount Karajo erupted during the Cataclysm, including Grimo. It was only by blind luck, sheer nerve, and the intervention of Thrall himself that they had wound up joining the Horde instead, the orcish shaman intimidating Gallywix into abandoning his plans.
Grimo gritted his teeth, all excitement at returning to the Undermine gone in an instant. The Darkfuse Cartel had power, they had the black blood, and their leader… he’d overheard from Gazlowe and some of the other goblins that the Undermine had changed for the worse, but he didn’t want to believe it.
But he couldn’t deny this.
If Jastor Gallywix was in charge down here, then all the stories he’d heard about the Undermine going rotten were true…
Dagran Thaurissan looked over the notes he and his new research friend had copied down the night before, puzzling over the pictograms on the titan device before them. No living dwarf was totally fluent in them, though the earthen above might be… but he also had a feeling they might not be happy he was there.
Nearby stood his uncle Brann Bronzebeard, his rifle at the ready. He wanted to take a look himself, but this was Dagran’s find, not his. Let his nephew enjoy the thrill of discovery, he’d keep watch for anything dangerous. He grinned as he saw the white-haired young dwarf, his finger feeling over the markings on the device as his lips moved, the prince working out their meanings. The sight brought back happy memories of the early days of the Explorer’s League.
“Any luck yet Dagran?” came a high-pitched voice as a figure padded closer, a young vulpera girl with glasses perched on her muzzle and a backpack full of scrolls, maps, and other useful things. She had traded her looser more casual clothes for harder wearing gear that was favored by the members of the Explorer’s League herself… but, well, she was also their newest member.
“Not yet Leza. This one is tricky… this symbol ‘ere can mean a lot o’ things, context matters. It could say ‘security system,’ or ‘guardian,’ or ‘armory,’ or a few other things…” he replied, feeling over it again, “But as long as we’re careful we should… should…” his face suddenly screwed up as his nose twitched, and then his body lurched forward sharply as a sneeze echoed around the ancient chamber!
Leza winced as Brann laughed, “Hah! Gotta watch th’ dust here nephew.” grinned the older dwarf, “Ruins are always full o’ th’ shite. Ye’ll sneeze yerself half ta death if yer… uh…” he paused, looking back as he became aware of sounds in the hallway.
Dagran pulled his hand back and grimaced. “Oh bugger…” he whispered. He’d been touching the symbol when he sneezed, and the force of it had caused his hand to slam into what turned out to be a button on the ancient device!
Behind them, several large titan constructs slowly stood up, their eyes igniting with the light of Order Magic as they turned to face the trio.
“Intruders Detected. You Are Not Authorized To Enter This Facility. Surrender At Once.” spoke the nearest one as they began to lurch forward, the ground shaking under their footsteps.
Leza yipped and drew her wand as her hummingbird familiar appeared in a spark of flame, fluttering around her head as Brann took aim, Dagran standing back as he fumbled in his pouch for some of the alchemical bombs he’d picked up in Dornogal.
“Right! Time fer th’ excitin’ bit o’ explorin’ kids!” called out Brann as he pulled the trigger, and with a bang and a flash of gunpowder a bullet flew from the barrel into the lead construct’s face, shattering its eye!
The construct stumbled, then straightened up as its remaining eye changed from a bright yellow glow to a deep crimson. “Damage Sustained. Threat Level Reassessed. Lethal Force Authorized. Purge The Intruders.” said the construct in the emotionless monotone of a machine as all four raised their arms.
Leza gritted her teeth, but after the naga and the quillboar she was getting more used to this sort of thing, she waved her wand in a circle and called out in Thalassian, “Anar'alah belore!” and a gout of flames shot down from the air above them, one of the ancient machines suddenly sparking as the dust inside it’s joints ignited, cooking the wiring inside!
“Nicely done lass! Now th’ other three!” nodded Brann as he finished reloading and took aim again as Dagran lobbed a glass sphere filled with chemicals that, when shaken hard, tended to react with quite a bit of violence.
Seconds later a loud BOOM echoed through the ruin as a construct flew backwards, landing in five separate places as Brann’s rifle cracked off again and there was another woosh of arcane fire.
Leza grinned as she channeled another spell, if only Nelen could see her now! Next time they were all home in Orgrimmar it wouldn’t just be Sekhi with stories of adventures! Her tail swished excitedly at that thought as she shouted out another phrase in Thalassian and a fireball burst from the tip of her wand, flying towards the constructs!
Hours later the trio would emerge battered, exhausted, but with several titan artifacts secured in their packs. Another adventure accomplished by the Explorer’s League.
Stonelight Rest, the Inn at Dornogal
Yvain walked into the inn, looking around curiously. Dareley had contacted Xinyi earlier in the day asking her to let Yvain know he’d like to meet her in Dornogal that evening at the inn and his daughter from another timeline saw no reason to object.
“Oi, ‘scuse me.” she asked the innkeeper, a copper haired earthen named Ronesh, “I’m lookin’ fer an earthen man named Dareley. Black hair ‘n beard, used ta be a dwarf.”
The earthen man looked up from his mug as he sat at the table, “Oh yes, the new one. Yvain are you? He asked for a private room for the two of you and his other guest. Down the stairs, back of the inn.” he replied, pointing to the stairs further inwards.
Yvain nodded, the woman walking deeper into the inn as the firelight reflected off her armor. She had been working with the Stormwind City Guard in lieu of anything better to do, but really outside of a few doomsayers screaming about how the end was near and some other troublemakers there hadn’t been much to do in the city. Most of the local gangs were laying low, the Radiant Song having made things too tense to really ‘conduct business.’
She took the stairs down, then heard voices down one of the halls. One of them she recognized as her father’s voice, but slightly off due to this version of him becoming an earthen.
She entered a room at the end of the hall to find Dareley kneeling before a tall, cloaked figure, a cowl hiding his face. The cloaked man was making a gesture over Dareley and murmuring under his breath as the earthen man bowed his head reverently, then he blinked as he heard the door open and grinned.
“Ah Yvain, there ye are.” he smiled, standing up and nodding to the cloaked figure who nodded back and took a seat at a large table in the room with two extra chairs set up. “So lass, Johnathan was tellin’ me ye’ve been questionin’ a lot o’ th’ recent doctrine, statin’ ye dunnae think that it’d sit well with th’ founders o’ th’ Silver Hand, aye?” he asked.
Yvain nodded, closing the door behind them. “Aye, sorry if I’m stirrin’ up trouble, but it just really bothers me ta see things get so… liberal. Th’ Light is th’ Light. Necromancy ‘n th’ Fel are evil ‘n wicked. Even with yer friends Ed ‘n Mola, I cannae just accept that they can be used fer good.” she frowned. “I mean… what would Archbishop Faol say ta that?!” she asked, throwing up her arms in frustration.
“Well…” chuckled the cloaked figure, reaching up and taking his hood, then pulling it back as Yvain’s eyes went huge, the woman taking a step back.
Seated there was a Forsaken man, with pale white skin and glowing yellow eyes. He had long pale hair… but his face. She’d seen his face. She saw it on statues in the training hall where she and the other squires had learned how to wield their weapons, how to commune with the Light in the heat of combat.
He was one of the first leaders of the Church of the Holy Light. He had been a founding member of the Knights of the Silver Hand. He had served the light faithfully throughout his life until, finally, old age took him and he was succeeded by a man named Benedictus.
At least… that’s where it had ended in Yvain’s timeline.
“… if you would like to know, you can simply ask me.” chuckled Alonsus Faol, his dead lips smiling at her.
“W-what th’ fel…” whispered Yvain, reaching for her hammer almost on instinct. “What…” she groped at it, and yet his face and expression stayed her hand. He was undead, he was an abomination in the light… yet… he was Archbishop Alonsus Faol! He was one of the most important figures to her faith!
She turned to her father, “WHAT!?” she demanded, gesturing to him as she goggled at the earthen.
Dareley shrugged apologetically at the forsaken priest, who smiled and waved it away. “Its alright, this is far from the first time I’ve gotten this reaction when someone has met me, but…” he held out his hand and focused, and a golden shining star of light appeared over it, a warm glow filling the room as he focused.
Yvain slowly relaxed, seeing this. It was the Light, she could no more mistake that feeling than she could her own hands… but… a forsaken, one of the undead, was manifesting it’s blessed power?!
“… how…” she whispered, walking slowly forward as she lowered her arms.
“It is a long story, lady knight… but if you would like to take a seat, I can tell you all about it.” nodded the undead man.
Slowly, hesitantly, Yvain sat at the table as Dareley took the third chair, and Alonsus began to explain.
When the Third War began, the Scourge swept across the northern human kingdoms and Quel’thalas, and as they did they would pillage any graveyards, tombs, or other resting places for the dead they came across for new soldiers. One of those had been none other than his own grave, the Archbishop raised into undeath to serve the Lich King.
“… those were dark times. I thank the Light that the memory of what I did under Arthas’ control is lost to me, but I cannot deny that I was forced to commit horrible acts in his name. When Sylvannas first rebelled and those of us who could awoke to ourselves once more, I went with the Forsaken for a time… but even as one of the undead the Light did not burn me as it did others.” he nodded.
He went on to explain that for many undead the Light would harm them as much as heal them, regardless of the intent of the prayers used to invoke its holy power. He, and more recently Calia Menethil, were two of the only exceptions he had ever found.
“As for why, I cannot say. The Light still shines through me, and Calia’s own nature is likely due to her being raised by one of the Naaru, a being of pure Holiness, but… I do not question why I have received this blessing. I only pray that I use it as best I can.” he nodded.
“But… ye cannae be happy like this…” asked Yvain, staring at him. Up close she was able to see the marks of rot, of decomposition, the telltale signs that what she was looking at had very clearly been dead for a very long time. “Why would ye not just…” she made a gesture across her throat with a finger.
Alonsus shook his head, frowning, “I will not deny the thought did cross my mind more than once, when times were especially hard and when my faith was tested by such… but I believe the Light continues to work within me even as a forsaken for a reason, lady knight. To surrender myself to true death would be to deny what the Light has planned for me, and that would be a horrible sin. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked.
She cocked her head, still processing what she was seeing, “… I just… th’ Church says that necromancy is… but…” she gestured to him.
He shrugged, “Yes, and when I was still living I would have agreed with such but, when I first regained my mind and reached the ruined city of Lordaeron when the Forsaken were building their new home, well… I did not see mindless monsters. I saw those who felt that the Light had turned its back on them. I saw people who had all they knew and loved torn away from them in a moment of horror and madness.” he nodded, then looked up at her.
“Remember the tenants of our Order, Yvain Steelhammer. Retribution, Holiness, Protection, Justice… and Compassion.” he nodded, “The last one gets forgotten far too often…” he smiled sadly. “They did not ask to become undead any more than I had. Some of them decided to embrace the idea of being monsters, but others? They just wanted help. They wanted to know that life… of a sort… could go on for them even then. How could I ignore them and still call myself true to our faith?” he asked.
“But… th’ Light burns th’ undead. It cannae heal them.” she pointed out, leaning onto the table… and yet, she couldn’t deny his words. There was a truth there. The undead were considered monsters in her own timeline, but… every undead was once an ordinary person.
“But it can guide them Yvain. It can help them find their path. Even if they cannot bear its touch, they can still learn from it, they can remember what it means to follow its teachings. They can become deathguards and protect their fellows, they can fight back against those still loyal to the Scourge and bring justice to them… and they can help each other. They can brew preservatives for dead flesh, they can help stitch new hands to replace lost ones, they can show compassion to each other. For some Forsaken, it is all they have, and it is my duty to help them remember this. The Light never truly forsakes anyone. If our world’s Arthas had only remembered this, we would not be having this conversation right now.” he sighed.
Yvain looked down at the table, wheels turning in her mind. It had been one thing to hear about Arthas from Dareley. It had been quite another thing to see the ruins of Lordaeron City from a distance with Mola’raum and Edwood. This however, meeting one of the founding members of the Order of the Silver Hand raised into undeath and yet continuing to keep to his faith despite that. She closed her eyes, her cheeks burning. She had honestly begun to question her own faith, being stuck here away from her true parents and her home in this bizarre reflection of her world… yet here was a man who kept true to the Light even though his heart no longer beat and he was trapped in a state of unlife, his body slowly rotting away as the years went on.
She felt ashamed. She was supposed to be a paladin, was her faith so weak as to fail such a small test compared to him? She at least had the potential to return home, she could see her family again one day. Alonsus? There was no way to undo the curse of undeath. He would remain this way until his body crumbled to dust unless something destroyed him first and yet here he sat talking about the tenants of the Light and what it meant to keep to one’s faith.
“I… I’m sorry, both o’ ye… I need… I need ta go think about some things…” she whispered.
Alonsus nodded, he could see the conflict inside her. He knew she would need time to process what had happened. Gently he reached out a hand to her’s, and a warm glow enveloped his fingers. “Then go, and may the Light bless you and guide you to where you belong, Yvain Steelhammer.” he replied softly.
She muttered her thanks, then slowly got to her feet and walked out of the room, heading back towards the portal to Stormwind.
Dareley sighed, “Thank ye fer that Archbishop.” he nodded.
The forsaken man smiled softly at him, “My friend, it is both a pleasure and my duty as a follower of the Light. I only pray that your daughter is returned to her home, and that she does not forget what she has learned when she does.” he replied.
“Aye… well, we’ll have to hope.” replied the earthen man, nodding to him.
Stormwind City, an hour later
Yvain made her way up the steps to the Cathedral of the Light, her legs moving almost on automatic as her mind reeled with what she had seen and heard today. She saw the deacon Johnathan and asked for a private prayer room and was led to one.
Inside was a small incense burner and, on the wall, the symbol of the Holy Light. She knelt down, setting her hammer on the floor next to her, and lit the burner.
As the smell of sandalwood filled the area, she bowed her head and whispered, “Light guide me ‘n protect me… This world is so different from me own. It challenges what I was taught growin’ up… ‘n yet… I cannae pretend it dunnae ring true.” she whispered, “… I pray ta ye, light me path ‘n show me th’ truth. Guide me ta keep ta th’ tenents o’ th’ Silver Hand, ‘n grant me th’ strength ta endure until I can go home.”
There was no sudden flash of insight, no bright burst of holiness… and yet… Yvain felt at peace there. Perhaps this is what she needed right now. Some time alone with herself and her faith.
Lor’themar Theron sat at a desk in his temporary office reviewing the latest intelligence from Azj-kahet. The city was in utter anarchy after the death of Queen Ansurek, the Weaver and her allies trying to restore order currently though it was difficult. He was beginning to worry about what could happen if some of the nerubians decided to seek revenge against those who had brought down their queen, whether that meant their allies in the Severed Threads or the forces of the Alliance and Horde. Surgical strikes by the nerubians would be a real thorn in their side to say the least.
He sighed and sat the missive down, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then looked up at a knock on the door.
“Enter.” he called out, leaning back in his chair.
The door opened and three figures walked into the office, none of them breathing. Edwood Vargas and Mola’raum entered on either side of the third person. Clad in her usual purple and black armor, her blades sheathed at her hips, was Lilian Voss of the Desolate Council.
“Lor’themar. We have a situation…” she frowned. “This is Edwood Vargas, one of our Darkcasters, and Mola’raum of the Ebon Blade.” she explained, introducing the other two, “They need to speak to you regarding one of your magisters.”
Lor’themar frowned, “I see… very well then, I can spare a few minutes of my time. What is this about?” he asked.
Edwood stepped forward, “Lord Theron, apologies fer takin’ up yer time, but this is about a magister by th’ name of Alalestria Wintersky…” he growled.
At this Lor’themar sighed, muttering ‘not again…’ under his breath. He had known her late father to be a pragmatic and reasonable man, and hearing that his daughter and heir had risked the wroth of the Blue Dragonflight had shocked him to say the least. “What did she do?” he asked, straightening up.
Edwood narrowed his eyes, “Scourgecraft.” he spat.
Lor’themar froze, his eyebrows raising as his one eye focused on Edwood, then looked to Mola’raum who nodded firmly. “… I see. This is a very serious accusation.” he replied, “You have proof?”
Edwood shrugged, “Of a sort aye, do ye know of her… agent? Goes by th’ name of Sinranir Downstrider?” he asked.
Lor’themar nodded, he knew of him… though only of him. There were certain things the nobility of Silvermoon tried to ‘keep their hands clean of,’ and the whispers of an assassin who had become bound to House Wintersky were… well, Sinranir would hardly be the only assassin employed by the aristocracy of Quel’thalas.
“Well, while our allies were in Zalarek Cavern last year he tried to rob one of ‘em ‘n wound up with a gut wound that should’ve killed him stone dead.” explained Edwood, “… ‘n it did… but it seems Lady Wintersky didn’t want to lose such a useful assassin so she brought him back. We were doing some work fer Monte Gazlowe ‘n she caught wind of it somehow, ‘n sent him after me mates.”
Edwood continued, his voice taking on an edge, “Sinranir recognized what me ‘n Mola are ‘n lead us away from her, ‘n as soon as we were outta ‘er sight he told us what she’d done to him ‘n begged us fer help. Wintersky bound him, body ‘n soul, with chains o’ domination! She’s usin’ Scourge magic to bind one o’ th’ undead!” he spat, “ ‘n as one of th’ Forsaken ‘n an ally of Silvermoon City I DEMAND she be made to answer fer it!” he growled in fury, felfire flickering in his eyes.
Lor’themar frowned, leaning forward with his elbows on his desk, steepling his fingers infront of him. “… scourgecraft… Alalestria how could you…” he whispered under his breath, then he shook his head. “I… fully sympathize with your anger Darkcaster, but…” he began.
Edwood’s eyes bulged, the warlock stomping forward until he was on the other end of the desk, his bony hands slamming down on it. “BUT?! BUT WHAT?!” he snarled, “We’re not talkin’ some social faux pas here Theron!” he snapped, “She’s doin’ to him what ARTHAS DID TO ALL O’ US!” he roared.
Lor’themar’s frown deepened as he glanced past him towards the door, but it appeared nobody outside heard him above the hustle and bustle of the Embassy. After all they were in the middle of a war, raised voices were hardly uncommon.
But then… that was the ‘but.’
“… yes, and I swear to you we will investigate these claims and if we find evidence of her performing such acts she shall be made to answer for them.” he replied in a low, firm tone, “… however, we are at war Darkcaster. We all saw the ruins of Dalaran, we all know what Xal’atath is capable of. As much as it disgusts me to hear that one of our Magisters could even consider committing such heinous acts… the threat of the Harbinger takes precedence.”
Edwood’s eyes blazed, literally blazed, with fury as the desk under his hands began to smolder. “Are you… bloody tellin’ me… that yer just gonna turn a blind eye to this Lor’themar?!” he demanded, “Any Forsaken or Death Knight can see what she did to him! We all felt th’ same chains around our minds ‘n souls when we were enslaved to th’ Scourge!”
At this Lor’themar stood, looking between the three undead before him. Lilian seemed every bit as angry as Edwood did but was content to hold her tongue for now. She knew Lor’themar well from their work together in the Horde Council and while this angered her, she understood that he would not hold back on such matters without reason.
Mola’raum was leaning against the wall, his own eyes narrowed. He could go report this to the Four Horsemen. The Ebon Blade were independent from the Alliance and Horde, they could easily decide to sort out a rogue magister on their own and damn the consequences. It wouldn’t be the first time they risked the ire of another group. Just ask the reborn Order of the Silver Hand how they felt about them after what they did during the Legion’s Invasion. Relations were strained to say the least.
“I am not telling you that Darkcaster Vargas.” replied the elf in a firm, measured tone. “But before we can investigate these matters, we must ensure that we have a world to prosecute Alalestria in. Xal’atath is a foe powerful enough to defeat even the Guardian of Tirisfal. We need every magister we have ready to combat her. To arrest one now, during this conflict, would be worse than losing a powerful spellcaster. There is no blood elf alive today who did not suffer from Arthas’ invasion during the Third War. For us to bring these charges against Lady Wintersky they would have to be made public, and the very idea that we could have another Dar’Khan Drathir on our hands would be absolutely devastating to morale.” he nodded firmly.
“Rest assured of this at least Darkcaster. I am not happy about this, and if we find that your accusations against her are true then I will personally carry out her punishment, whether it is banishment or… something more permanent.” he replied in a grave tone, his one eye meeting Edwood’s fiery green eyes, “… but right now is not the time.”
Edwood’s teeth were gritted so tightly they could hear them creaking, smoke rising from the desk where his hands rested as he glared back at the Reagent Lord of Silvermoon City. He may have his reasons, they may even be logical and justifiable, but right now all that Edwood heard was that another undead was suffering in servitude and that Lord Lor’themar had declined to intervene.
“You… cowardly little…” he growled, then he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Ed, bruddah. We did wut we came ta do mon.” said Mola’raum, though there was an edge to his voice as well. “Lor’themar be givin’ us his answer.” he nodded, his glowing blue eyes glancing towards the elf. “… such as it be…” he scowled.
Lor’themar glanced between them, then over Edwood’s shoulder, “Was there anything else Lilian?” he asked.
The forsaken woman shook her head, “No… Edwood, lets go.” she nodded, though Lor’themar could tell she wasn’t happy with his decision either. She took Edwood by the other shoulder and between her and Mola’raum they were able to pull him away from the desk, a pair of handprints now scorched into the wood.
The three left the embassy, Edwood’s hands clasped tightly behind his back as he grumbled under his breath, the other two following behind him.
“… I understand Lor’themar’s reasoning, but I understand Edwood’s anger too.” whispered Lilian to Mola’raum. “He had better not do anything rash…”
Edwood walked past a set of shrubs as a small bird tweeted from one of the branches at him. The warlock’s head snapped around and there was a roar of felfire, and a few charred feathers spiraled to the ground as the shrub crumbled to ashes.
Mola’raum whistled, “Mebbe we find some good contract work so he can blow off some steam, ya?” he tried.
Lilian nodded, “Good idea…”
The troll sighed, biting back his own frustration. He knew how much being bound by such powers hurt the victim body and soul, but he also knew that despite the horrible act Lor’themar had a point. Alalestria was powerful, and she was duty bound to defend Silvermoon. As much as he hated it, Quel’thalas needed every magister it had, even her.
Hallowfall
A bat swooped low over the landscape, its leathery wings flapping as its ears pricked up. Uh’kue had been searching through the underground for days now, and a rumor heard in Mereldar had caught her interest. The battleground where the Alliance and Horde had fought Xal’atath’s minions was apparently corrupted somehow. Animals there were becoming monstrous, and strange plants were blooming. Even if they weren’t there, the troll knew that this warranted a look. It was her duty as a druid to protect against things such as the Black Blood however she could.
As she soared across the landscape, she heard something. A leathery flapping of wings, but too large to be a normal bat. She looked down and squinted, her eyes weaker in her bat form, but she could see below her a large bat-like creature with quills flying towards the undersea and Beledar.
She altered her course and flew after it, but the other creature already had a good head start on her. Uh’kue was able to keep it in sight, but only just as it flew off into the distance… and then it dipped down suddenly and she let out a frustrated squeak as she lost sight of it!
Uh’kue flapped her wings and tried to fly faster towards the coastline of the gigantic underground ocean, and eventually she arrived along the coast, swooping as low as she dared. She didn’t want to risk them seeing her and fleeing.
After several minutes however, she saw them.
Kneeling on the sand at the edge of the sea was the strange elf-troll woman Orwenya, her eyes closed and her head bowed.
Uh’kue swooped down and landed some distance away, then changed back into her true form. Slowly, the Zandalari woman crept towards her… but it was clear Orwenya was not paying attention to her.
This puzzled her. In Azj-kahet she and her kin were nothing if not vigilant, and then she got close enough to hear her whispering.
“… Goddess… what must I do…” murmured Orwenya, so softly that it was almost inaudible.
Uh’kue realized what she was seeing. Orwenya wasn’t just sitting there for fun. She was communing with… something. She was totally dead to the world, her senses cast out elsewhere.
“Dat be dangerous…” whispered Uh’kue, looking around. The stretch of beach was empty, but she was right next to the ocean. For all she knew they could be right next to a Korbyss village hidden under the waves. Why was she doing this alone?
She walked forward now, certain that Orwenya couldn’t see her… perhaps she should wake her.
The druid reached out a hand as she drew close, placing it gently on Orwenya’s shoulder, then her body went rigid as her eyes flashed! She was suddenly floating in darkness, and below her was a massive glowing light, bright as the sun itself!
“W-what?! What be goin’ on?!” she gasped, her eyes wide as she looked around, seeing only void around her… and then a voice echoed in her thoughts as she cried out in shock from the sheer force of it.
HEAR ME!
Uh’kue’s whole body shook as her mind was suddenly assailed with visions. A shadowy figure, an anvil and a hammer, a wall in a cave somewhere, a loud grinding rumbling sound… but not a natural sound. Mechanical? She couldn’t tell… it didn’t sound like something she’d heard before!
Suddenly she was thrown backwards and with a loud yelp of pain she landed on the sands in Hallowfall, shaking her head from the disorientation.
“YOU!” snapped Orwenya, standing now, her scythe in her hand as she glared at the Zandalari woman. She did not look happy. “How dare you! Do you even know what I was doin’?!” she demanded.
Uh’kue slowly rose, shaking her head, “I… no… not really mon…” she gritted her teeth, her head pounding. “I saw… a big bright… sun… hammer… anvil… a cave… loud noises…” she hissed, squinting her eyes. Beledar’s light felt painfully bright, as if she was experiencing a migraine.
At this Orwenya paused, cocking her head. “You saw… the Goddess?” she asked in surprise.
Uh’kue rubbed her temples, “… goddess? Ya mean dat bright light?” she asked.
Orwenya nodded, “Yes… our goddess, Azeroth… That ‘bright light’ is her soul within our world.” she explained.
Uh’kue rubbed her eyes, then looked at Orwenya, “I be seein’ da world soul? I… but how…” she whispered.
“You… touched my shoulder when I was communin’ with the Goddess.” replied Orwenya. “She… must have wanted you to see it too…” she hesitated, looking away as she fidgeted with one of the thorny vines that made up her armor.
“Hm… well, I didn’t be seein’ much. What did ya see?” she asked, looking at Orwenya curiously.
“I am… not certain. I saw strange objects I did not recognize… and heard loud noises that were unfamiliar to me.” she replied.
“Hm… Someone hittin’ a large metal ting with a hammer, ‘n a loud grindin’ sound?” asked Uh’kue.
Orwenya looked up at her, then nodded, her eyes wide. “You know what they be?” she asked, a clear need in her voice.
“… I know wut da metal tings be, a hammer ‘n anvil, for forgin’ metal tools ‘n weapons… but dat loud grindin’ sound…” she frowned, “… I tink, we may need ta ask an expert. I got a hunch, but… if it be what I tink it be… it might be bad…” she replied. “Look, I know ya don’t like people seein’ ya but… me friends be on de surface, we may need ta…” she began.
Orwenya cut her off, “It don’t matter no more.” she sighed, “I be the only one of my people left down here. The others went home. We were breaking our traditions just by coming here to begin with… they weren’t happy about it, now its just… me.” she sighed, then looked up, “I can’t do this alone.” she whispered, so softly that only Uh’kue’s ears, enhanced by Hireek’s blessings, could pick it up.
The Zandalari woman nodded slowly, “… ya not gonna be.” she replied, “Hireek told me ta find ya ‘n help ya. I ain’t gonna disobey me Loa any more den ya would ignore ya Goddess.” she grinned widely at her. Orwenya nodded back and gave Uh’kue a small hesitant smile in return.
A few minutes later two bats rose above the fields of Hallowfall, heading towards the path to the Ringing Deeps…
The Hold of the Glittering Prize, the Morning After the Battle with Alalestria
“Gearhead to Big Boss, come in Big Boss. Over.” said Grimo into the microphone.
For a long moment there was just static, then came a voice. Not Gazlowe, but Skaggit instead. “First Mook to Gearhead. Big Boss is still sleeping. Gimme five and I’ll have him up. Over.”
Grimo smirked, “Roger that First Mook. Gearhead standing by. Over.” he replied, then leaned back in his chair and put his feet up, cracking open a fresh can of Kaja-Cola.
By his second can the radio crackled again and Gazlowe’s voice came through, “Fuckin’ fel my head… overdid it last night… ugh… This is Big Boss. Go ahead Gearhead. Over.” he replied.
Grimo sighed, “Mornin’ Big Boss. I have news, ‘n you’re not gonna like it.” he replied, then filled Gazlowe in on what had happened. The threats on the island, the siren attack, Alalestria’s ambush, what she’d done with the crystal, and what it was capable of.
“… so yeah, any mook who can use arcane magic can tap that thing for power… as far as we know. Point is, a certain spooky bitch might be able to do it too. She had no problem with Dalaran after all.”
“Fuck…” swore Gazlowe, “Fuck fuck fuck… okay yeah… this is bad. Part of me wants to call th’ whole expedition off… but…” he sighed, “We can’t. If that crystal is another Beledar we gotta cap that thing fast before she realizes it. It was hard enough keepin’ her away from th’ one in Khaz Algar, but that island is uninhabited. She could roll right in unopposed!”
Grimo nodded, then said, “But… she ain’t got th’ Dark Heart no more. Alleria busted it, right?” he asked.
"Yeah, but... look, call it a hunch, but I'd bet money she's trying to either get it repaired or replaced right now. Word is Xal'atath vanished from Khaz Algar and th' nerubians are in open revolt against her followers now, but th' thing is we don't know where th' fuck she went to. She could be anywhere now." sighed Gazlowe.
"Hm... got it Big Boss. I'll tell my crew to keep their ears open when we get back to Dornogal. Got a few who are good at sniffin' out stuff. Might be we can figure out what happened... or at least get an idea of where she could be headed." nodded Grimo.
“Roger that Gearhead. Th’ Horde Council thanks you for your co-operation ‘n discretion. I’ll keep ya in mind next time I need somethin’ like this. Same rate minimum.” replied Gazlowe.
Grimo grinned, “Now you’re sayin’ what I wanna hear Big Boss. Gearhead out.” he replied, switching off the radio as he got up and sighed, then walked out of the workshop and up onto the deck. Standing there were Edwood, Mola’raum, Jeemjazo, and of course Murgly Jim.
“Well matey?” asked Edwood, raising his eyebrow.
“Yeah, Gazlowe says we’re clear to go back to Khaz Algar. Mission complete.” he nodded, “But don’t get too comfy there. Shit might be gettin’ ready to hit th’ fan.” he added.
Edwood raised his eyebrow at that, “Care ta elaborate on that one Grimo?” he asked as Mola’raum leaned in curiously towards the goblin.
“Sorry buddy, only know what he told me. When we get back to Dornogal, everybody keep an ear out. Especially Sam 'n Sekhi. If anyone hears somethin' first, it'll be one of them."” he nodded.
Edwood and Mola’raum shared a glance, but they didn’t argue. They were both eager to go back and inform Voss and the rest of the Desolate Council of what they discovered regarding Sinranir. This could be what would finally remove Alalestria as a problem. Rather than killing her, they would get her stripped of her rank and title within elven society, alive but dishonored and defanged.
“Aye, very well. Mister Jeemjazo, raise th’ anchor ‘n set us out please.” he nodded to the vulpera.
Jeemjazo saluted him, “Aye Captain! C’mon Jim…” he nodded, walking off to the winch for the anchor as Grimo frowned at Edwood.
“Couldn’t you knock that shit off. Its my boat remember?” he growled.
“Aye matey, it is… but I know boats better than ye do anyways. Besides, we put it to a vote.” he laughed as the boat bobbed on the waves as the anchor went up, then the engine rumbled to life and slowly the ship turned from the coast, aimed itself southward, and began the long trek back from the Siren Isle to Khaz Algar. It’d be a week at sea, but at least it’d likely be a peaceful week barring any trouble from naga or sea life. Storms they could handle thanks to Sekhi’s talents at least.
For now however the voyage was just underway.
Elsewhere
Bony hands unrolled the scroll, reading the letter.
“Ah, Steelhammer. I remember when you first took your oaths. One of the first dwarves to join our Order…” said a raspy voice, the tone bringing to mind an image of a kindly old grandparent. “Hm… daughter… but not of this timeline? How unusual…”
A pair of hands took out a fresh scroll and a quill, along with a bottle of ink, and began to write.
Dareley,
It is good to hear from you again old friend. I am glad to see you are still with us after all these years.
I would be honored to meet Yvain, but unfortunately right now is far too unstable for me to risk travel to the lands of the Alliance.
Fortuitously, I will be travelling to Khaz Algar myself in a few weeks to offer solace and blessings to those of our troops who serve under the Light. If you would like, I can spare an evening to meet with you and Yvain at the city’s Inn.
Light’s blessings be upon you always.
He signed it, then rolled the scroll closed and slid his own message ring on it, carrying it out of his chambers and into the city proper, his feet carrying him through the ruined city. All around him people were hard at work. A cart rumbled past full of cleaning equipment, and two guardsmen marched down the road keeping an eye for any troubles.
The man slid the letter into the mailbox there, then turned to look towards the battlements of what was once Lordaeron City. It was still too toxic to be inhabitable, but every day it got a tiny bit better. Perhaps one day soon he and the other Forsaken may be able to return home.
He smiled at that thought, then nodded and headed back to the house he was using as a makeshift chapel. The majority of the Forsaken did not follow the light these days, but he did not insist they visit him. He did not preach or evangelize. He was simply there when he was needed.
Orgrimmar, the Valley of Honor
Xhu Pai sat around the campfire with the vulpera, carefully drawing her sword and showing it as the firelight reflected off the blade. After explaining a few other overlooked issues (and getting a little bemused at Master Hye-Soo’s reaction to forgetting to teach her student how to maintain a weapon amid the lessons) the older pandaren spotted her the cost of a whetstone and polishing brush to keep the blade in top condition. Right now it shined like a newly minted coin, the flickering flames making the image of the cloud serpent on the blade almost seem to come alive.
“Woaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…” whispered Zato, reaching out a hand at it… and then yipping as Xhu Pai quickly snapped it back into the scabbard.
“Hey, no. Sorry Zato but I just sharpened it and the edge is dangerous. I don’t want to risk a fingertip here.” she warned, the pandaren woman nodding to him.
Zato huffed at her in annoyance, “I wasn’t gonna!” he insisted, “I can handle sharp stuff, I got a bow ‘n everything now!” he nodded, holding up a small wooden training bow that he was given when he began his lessons.
Eeda smirked at him, the girl sitting next to her sibling still in her new black silk martial arts uniform given to her by her instructor. Not Ji as it had turned out he wasn’t in Orgrimmar but had gone to Khaz Algar to train the troops, but another pandaren named Chuwon Ironframe who was filling in for him until he returned. “Yeah, a bow without arrows.” she grinned.
Zato blew a wet raspberry at her. It was a rule for any younger archery students. Bows sure, but arrows stayed at the archery grounds until they had at minimum one year of practice. The alternative was a sudden surge in eyepatches as a fashion statement from overly excited kids trying to do trick shots.
Eeda grinned, until she got a sudden smack atop her head. Risala was standing behind her with a raised eyebrow. “Mmhm, but while your brother’s arrows can be confiscated until he proves he can be responsible with them we can’t exactly take away your arms and legs if you start picking fights with the other kits… but we can decide to tell Instructor Chuwon that you’re not ready for training after all.” she warned.
Eeda whined loudly, “Maaaaaaa! I won’t!” she huffed, flailing her arms in protest as Zato and Xhu Pai laughed.
The pandaren woman leaned back as the vulpera family chattered away. Their father Atu was in the Valley of Strength buying the meat for tonight’s dinner and soon their little circle would smell of roasting meat and spices.
She realized, after a moment, that she didn’t feel anxious. She was still far from home, but she had gained more than just the knowledge of how to fight and, more importantly, the knowledge of how to stop from Master Hye-Soo.
She had gained a confidence she had lost when Nyloc’s misfired spell had torn her from her home. She did not know when she would have the opportunity to go home. She did not even know if she ever would… but… for now, it was okay. For this one moment she could just relax, enjoy the warmth of the fire and the company of her new friends, and feel at peace.
Perhaps later that fear would bite down again, but as Hye-Soo had said fear was a part of life. What mattered is what you did about it.
Stranglethorn Vale
It was early evening in Orgrimmar, but already the dead of night in Stranglethorn. He was fine with that though, he’d spent his whole life in the dark before, and these jungles were home to him.
Zul’zanza had arrived in Grom’Gol Base Camp that afternoon and after confirming where in the vale he was he set out to the south, where his village had stood. He remembered Bwonsamdi telling him they were gone now, but he had to know for certain. Maybe someone had survived, maybe he could at least find where they had lived… maybe… just maybe…
Then ahead he heard rushing water. He was confused. He had already crossed the river, there shouldn’t be any water ahead here…
He picked up the pace, running now as he followed the sound to it’s source. Heading through the trees. Just beyond those trees… he remembered it, seeing the light of his tribe’s cooking fires, hearing the chatter of their voices, the sound of music playing, the welcoming calls of those recognizing their witch doctor’s return…
Then the sound of water grew louder, and he stumbled to a halt, and stared.
Before him was what the locals called ‘the Sundering.’ A massive whirlpool, cliffs collapsed into the water as it swirled down into the caverns below the jungle endlessly, a huge drain sucking down the sea into a seemingly bottomless pit.
… right where his village had stood.
Zul’zanza reached out a trembling hand, “… n-no… dis can’t be…” he whispered, his eyes wide. His people were gone, his village was gone, the very land it had stood on, GONE.
All gone. No trace that his tribe had ever lived at all.
He heard a sigh, then a voice said, “I told ya… I was hopin’ ya wouldn’t come here mon…”
He looked to his left and saw, standing there, leaning against a tree, Bwonsamdi the Loa of Graves. The troll god looked to him, his eyes glowing in the sockets of his skull mask, but his expression seeming almost… sad.
“Dere be nothin’ for ya here now mon. Dis not be de Stranglethorn Vale ya remember no more…” he sighed. “Ya should go, mebbe find a new place with da Horde. Dey be good people, mostly.” he suggested.
“No… no… I can’t… dis world is too fookin’… EVERYTING MON!” he threw up his hands, “Dat Orgrimmar?! It be nothin’ but NOISE ‘n SMOKE ‘n I CAN’T BE DERE!” he insisted. “Me home be Stranglethorn! Me place be Stranglethorn! I NEED TA GO BACK BWONSAMDI! I NEED TA GO BACK TA ME TRIBE!” he demanded.
The Loa of Graves shook his head, “Would dat I could bruddah, but it not be me ting. Loa of Graves, not Time…” he frowned.
Zul’zanza growled, then jabbed a finger at him, “D-Den mebbe I find someone ta bargan with who CAN send me back!” he retorted.
Bwonsamdi moved as if to reply, then stopped and looked around sharply.
Zul’zanza had heard it too, a laugh on the wind… it sounded like a woman’s voice, an elf woman’s…
“Who be dere…” whispered Zul’zanza, reaching for his wand and fetish, but Bwonsamdi’s hand shot out to stop him.
“No… be ready ta run mon…” he warned.
“Oh there won’t be any need for that…” said a voice, and from the darkness of the trees emerged a figure.
She looked like an elf, but she didn’t walk so much as float off the ground. She wore long purple robes, her flesh inscribed with runes, but what caught Zul’zanza’s attention was her eyes. Like gaping black holes that could suck a man in and make him vanish forever.
Bwonsamdi’s glowing eyes flared, the Loa of Graves raising a fist as swirls of spectral anima circled around it. “BEGONE XAL’ATATH! Dis mon be under MY protection! Ya no be barganin’ wit’ ‘im!” he demanded.
The Harbinger pursed her lips, shaking her head, “How rude… you admitted yourself you can’t help this poor troll with his plight. All I wish to do is offer him my services…”
Bwonsamdi glared at her, then he felt a hand on his arm as Zul’zanza stepped around his outstretched limb.
“… go on…” replied the witch doctor.
Xal’atath grinned widely, “See? So nice when someone is willing to listen. Zul’zanza was it? I’ve got a little group of… helpers. They’ve run into some trouble back in Khaz Algar and are currently heading to a new land on my behalf, but sadly some of them didn’t quite make it there and I’m needing to rebuild their ranks. A magic user like yourself would be a fine addition to my retinue.” she nodded, gesturing to him.
Bwonsamdi glared, then looked back at Zul’zanza, “Don’t be listenin’ to her mon. She be lyin’! She got no more control over time den I do!”
Xal’atath smirked, “Right now perhaps not… but once I’ve completed my goals and laid claim to Azeroth I will have total control over the world. Past, present, and future…” she grinned, “Sending Zul’zanza home will be as simple as pointing the way.” she nodded.
Zul’zanza frowned at her, “… but, den ya take Azeroth for yerself…” he pointed out.
She shrugged, “Yes, but I’ll be sending you back home to the past. You’ll never see that Azeroth. You’ll live out your days and die decades before any of this ever happens. It won’t be your problem.” she smirked, floating closer.
“So… what do you say Zul’zanza?” she asked with a smile.
“He say-…” began Bwonsamdi, but suddenly Zul’zanza’s hand gripped the loa’s arm tightly.
“YES OR NO! Bwonsamdi, can ya send me back ta me own time?” shouted Zul’zanza.
Bwonsamdi hesitated, then shook his head, “… no.”
“Do ya know ANY Loa who can?” asked the Witch Doctor.
Bwonsamdi looked away, not saying anything.
“… Go. Bwonsamdi, just go mon. Now.” whispered Zul’zanza.
The Loa of Graves was silent for a long moment, “… tink really carefully now Zul’zanza. Ya take her offer, de Loa… ALL LOA… dey turn their backs to ya.”
Zul’zanza glanced up at Bwonsamdi, then his eyes darted to Xal’atath and he gave the faintest of nods.
The Harbinger smirked, then slapped out with her left hand, backhanding the air as if swatting an unseen insect… and Bwonsamdi let out a sudden cry as he vanished in a burst of anima, banished back to the Shadowlands.
Zul’zanza stepped forward, looking up at her. “I help ya, ya send me HOME. Deal?” he asked, holding his hand out.
Xal’atath grinned widely, then took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “We have a deal.”
