Frost and rime crept along the old wooden door as the wood began to creak and splinter; a heavy boot knocked it off its hinges, sending it flying into the dusty room. Rethandus stepped in first, letting his freezing runeblades hiss and glow in the encroaching darkness. He remained vigilant, actively searching for any traps that still could be working long after the cult that once filled these desecrated halls left behind. Once he was convinced the coast was clear, Whitstan stepped in with a burning torch with Istrys in tow, eager to get this little trip over with; this dusty room was one of many still left intact in Scholomance, but for that very reason they had to keep an eye out for any untold horrors other raiders of this decrepit school may have overlooked.
“I was hoping we’d have found something more concrete in Stratholme…” Whitstan commented as the torch followed his line of sight. “Having you two accompany me was the last thing I expected to happen.” he spoke with a low, echoed voice trying not to attract the attention of whatever dark creatures still resided there, or might have moved in there.
A thought kept creeping into his mind. The thought that justice should be harsh, especially to those who denied it to others. He was guilty of that yet he asked the Oathguard to stay their hand in light of recent events. He wasn’t the man that he once was or was currently accused of being. He needed to piece together the past events to understand why he was the way he was and to avoid that- all at the risk of again becoming that monster he once was once the missing decades of his life were restored. He glanced over to Rethandus and then Istrys, they were part of the Oathguard and yet they were assigned to help him. This was far too convenient to be a coincidence. He knew he had to be on guard.
The sounds of small rodents echoed lightly against the walls along with the flittering of wings in the darkness. Whitstan contemplated for a moment what unknown things hid in the darkness as a smirk grew on his face. The three of them were also creatures to be feared in the dark. He found the thought amusing as they ventured further into Scholomance.
“Only a fool would venture into Scholomance alone.” Rethandus did his best to keep his voice down, but his thoughts lay elsewhere as his eyes scanned the old dusty line of books before him. “Darkmaster Gandling was strong enough to control undead like us. I wouldn’t be surprised if a part of him still lingered in these halls.”
“Oooh, spooky.” Istrys sneered as she began tossing papers over her shoulder. “So what exactly are we looking for? All that could be left ‘round here is boring books and rotting corpses.”
“Anything on the Cult of the Damned.” The Harbinger slowly looked over his shoulder while his glare fixed on the woman. “And keep it down. I’m not about to invite anything that will impede our progress.” The cobwebs on the shelves looked ancient, giving the impression that this particular room hadn’t been touched since Scholomance’s initial sacking. Rethandus glowered as he sifted through book after book, displeased most of them were about shadow magic or undead binding. Whitstan next to him doing the same while maintaining one hand on the torch. He would glance toward Istrys and Reth every once in awhile wondering where they stood with each other.
Istrys had other plans. With a grin she would meander over to the corners of the room, only to slam her boot on an unsuspecting rodent. It’s muffled squeak was strangely satisfying, and it was just about the only thing she could do to keep her urges in check. Her ghoul stood idle, remaining vigilant for anything that could surprise them. “I said keep it down.” Rethandus’ voice dripped with anger, causing the woman to turn and give him a sly smirk and a light shrug. The sound of tiny bones snapping and Istrys’ faint giggle began to wear on Rethandus’ nerves, as he began to wonder if bringing her along was even worth it; at the very least, she would be able to serve her purpose out here, instead of finding ways to ‘appease her boredom’ on an unsuspecting cleric back at the Oathguard camp.
“Heyo, I think I found something.” Istrys called, no longer caring if her voice carried down the abandoned hallway. Rethandus’ ears perked as she approached, nearly jumping out of his armor once a grimoire the size of a wolf was dropped onto the nearby table. It looked old, perhaps far older than anything else in Scholomance, and it seethed with dark power. How did something this malicious remain hidden for so long? The Harbinger slowly approached the book, reluctant to touch it. “What kinda leather is that?” Istrys asked, poking it with her finger. “It’s so soft and mushy...?”
“It’s human skin.” Rethandus placed a hand on its surface, unwilling to reveal whatever horrors lurked along its pages. “Can you feel that? It’s got a pulse too.”
“Fucking sweet…” Istrys’ eyes beamed as she stepped forward, eager to caress the accursed grimoire for herself. Whitstan on the other hand eyed the tome cautiously as he approached.
“Hands off. This is dangerous…”
“Come on, Reth. This is too cool! Let me open it!”
“It could be a trap. Something this horrific would’ve been found years ago.” A thought popped into his mind as he glanced over his shoulder at Whitstan; perhaps this was the reason why he brought her in the first place. “On second thought…” he started, catching the woman’s attention. “... go ahead. Open it.” Whitstan’s expression shifted from one of somber caution to a sly smirk.
“Oh? Why the sudden change of heart, Andu?” The woman narrowed her gaze at him, now hesitant herself. “For a second I thought you were starting to care about me.”
“You want to open it so badly. Go ahead. We’ll be back here.” The Harbinger clenched his jaw once he gazed down at the grimoire, vividly remembering a similar-looking tome back in the Bloodsworn Vanguard Halls; he was quickly growing tired of cults and their evil writings.
“If this kills me I’m haunting you forever.” She narrowed her gaze at the two others while she turned the book toward her, causing Rethandus to take a few weary steps back. Her knuckles popped with a wet crack as she licked her lips with her dry tongue, eager to unveil whatever secrets this book contained. Powerful necromancy? An evil curse waiting to be unleashed upon the living? Proper castle decorating?! Her thoughts ran wild, compelling her to place her gauntlet on the edge of the book. Without warning she ripped it open, gasping audibly once she covered her face. “What…? What the fuck is this?” Her excitement vanished as she peered at the pages. “It’s just a fucking list of names.”
“Let me see that.” Rethandus huffed, stepping to her side to see for himself. Most of the names were too faded to read, but perhaps this was just the thing they needed. “Whitstan, have a look. Do you recognize any of these names?”
“... No.” he said as he scanned over the names. “Actually…” he said as he rested a finger on one of the names, “Didn’t you say this name earlier?” he asked Reth. “Gandling.” As soon as his finger touched fel energies climbed up his hand before he shot his arm away from it. The misty fel energies coalesced and formed words in the common tongue. He glanced to the other two and read it aloud. “Scholomance. Deceased.”
“... This… this isn’t just a list of names.” he uttered. He ran his finger along a few more names in succession and the same reaction occurred. “Southshore. Deceased. Stratholme. Deceased. Plaguewoods. Deceased.” he continued to read along the text that rose. “This is a roster of some sort…” he began speaking before he stopped, the last name he ran his finger across catching his attention. “...Nethrodrn? Undeath. This one… he… is undead. But the location keeps scrambling and it won’t list where he is. Savareus… I can’t make out the last name either. Can either of you read this? Something… I feel something blocking the magic on the book, dissipating it.”
“Well we can’t decipher it here. And we are definitely not bringing this accursed… thing back with us.” Rethandus turned to Istrys, who was clearly lost in thought. “... do you have an idea?”
“Nethrodrn? That sounds like a powerful cultist, right?” She paused, turning to motion her hideous ghoul over to her side. “Or perhaps it’s the name of the spell blocking our progress… or a place?”
“Random guesses aren’t going to get us any clos-”
“Shut the fuck up, I’m thinking.” Istrys began to pace back and forth, occasionally placing her finger along that last name to watch the letters flitter and twist in defense. “We already have a name. Savareus. It doesn’t make sense to place the name of the spell in this book either. Nethrodrn is clearly a place.”
“It’s not a place I’ve ever heard of before.” Rethandus crossed his arms as he studied the woman, clearly trying to get a bead on her thought process. “Since it’s cultists we’re after, it’s probably gibberish. Or a place named after some Old God.” They both stared at the book for several silent moments, unsure if they were even on the right track. Nethrodrn… Nethrodrn… Neth. North? Both Rethandus and Istrys’ eyes lit up as their gazes snapped back to each other.
“Northrend!” They spoke in unison, almost too loudly. Faint howls in the distant hallways made it clear something was alerted to their presence. “No.” Whitstan commented. “That’s not enough…” he said as he looked toward the area where the sounds emanated. Whatever they were, or it was, it was definitely getting closer. “Something is blocking us from pinpointing their location. Both of you… keep guard, I’m going to undo whatever it is affecting the book. It’d take us a century to comb Northrend and we still wouldn’t be any closer.”
He slammed his hand down on the open book, unholy runes glowing on his runesword as an incorporeal felflame spread around his hand. He considered casting an anti-magic spell on the book to keep whatever it was from influencing it to stop, but also considered the implication of damage to the book. Instead, he opted to fuel the book and whatever power it had in tracking the members in it. “These are members of the Cult. If this one is still… ‘alive’ for lack of a better word, I want to find him now.” he said as the runes on his sword dimmed one by one. The letters began to rearrange. “Savareus… Everwind…” he said, concentrating, attempting to ignore the sinister sounds around him. “Northrend…” he furrowed his brows, “It’s trying to pinpoint further…” he growled for a moment. He shot his eyes toward Istrys. “Give me your power.” he demanded as he dropped the torch and reached with the same hand toward her.
“Oh? Right here? In front of Rethandus?” A wicked grin spread across the woman’s face, causing the Harbinger to grimace. “I usually don’t do this on the first date.”
“Stop fucking around and do what he tells you.” Rethandus stepped toward the hallway, peering around the corner to check if anything serious was headed in their direction.
“Pfft. What a killjoy.” Istrys approached Whitstan with a hungry look in her eyes, before extending her hand to tap into her unholy runes. The death coil washed over the former Breaker, wrapping around his wrists as it swirled over the ominous tome. “... Dragonblight.” Whitstan spoke.
“Dragonblight? A lot of evil shit happened out there.” She licked her lips while she rubbed her hands together, eager to journey back to Northrend. “Well what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
“We should tread carefully… the Dragonflights won’t take kindly to three undead out in the wastes, if they spot us.” Rethandus slowly backed away from the hallway, and turned to his two affiliates. “I hope this is worth it.”
