Forever Forsaken

[Van'nal]

Ok, this is a story for a friend of mine who has even less writing talent than I do! =p She asked me to write this based on characters she came up with for the Forsaken. It might get more mature later on, but *shrug*

~~~Intro: How it begins.

Ardin was finally out of Dalaran! He had studied there, practically been a slave there, just to learn the art of being a mage, something his father thought he would only be good for. Ardin hated that blustering old cow, always saying how much better his older brother Donias was. How Donias had killed fifty of those mad-orcs and protected his entire platoon. How Donias, blah blah blah! Then of course his father would talk about Ardin, the book worm, the coward, Ardin hated his father more than anything.

His mother was different, she nurtured him and protected him, saying how he was better than Donias for he could think with more than muslce and what was stowed in a codpiece. She had originally told Arvaus, Ardin's father, of Dalaran and how Ardin would be perfect for it. The way Arvaus treated it was more like punishment than reward. Of course neither knew that Ardin had been secretly taking lessons from a darker sort of mage after the second war, and was already able to summon at least four types of demon!

Ardin felt a bump as the carriage ran over a stray stick in the road and grunted some from it. The young man wore violet robes trimmed with blue, marking him as a newly accepted mage among the Violet Eye. He had short cut blonde hair and striking brown eyes that sparkled a little whenever he was happy, or angry. His skin was normally tan, and still held a faded version of that hue thanks to his months locked away researching magical schemata he was not familiar with. All to become some spectacular mage! Bah, his demon Hadhuun could cut a mage in two before they could blink. But he learned anyway, even though his teacher said he had less skill than a blind, tongueless, rat.

He looked ahead of the road and saw the faint silhouette of his home and had to allow himself a small smile, soon he would see his mother and younger sister again. Even if it meant puting up with the old goat and his sword for brain brother. Ardin closed his eyes and leaned against the low side of the carriage he was in, thinking about what food might be served by his mother, his stomach growling at the thought of the delicious meals to be had. "Driver, could you speed it up somewhat?" He questioned softly.

"But of course me lord!" The man said, striking the reins against the rump of the great beasts pulling the cart. They gave a whicker of protest before starting their charge across the ground, reaching Ardin's home in less than a hour. "Your stop me lord!" The man said nodding his head, a wrinkled face grinned at young Ardin.

"Thank you very kindly goodsir. And your pay," he said cheerily, droping five golden coins emblazoned with the seal of King Terenas in the aged farmer's hands. "Have a fine day," he said bowing his head some and walking up the path home, pack slung over a shoudler and a wooden staff clacking down on the gravel beneath his feet. Ascending the steps to the front door he saw it open up and his father before him.

Arvaus had a large-bowled pipe in his mouth, puffing out smoke. A heavy-set face and body showed he had seen better days since his soldiering years. A large grey beard and mustache were the only hair on his head, a large brimmed straw hat covering his baldness. Beady, piggy, eyes glared down at his youngest son under heavy white brows. Thick hairy arms were crossed over his chest and resting on his ample gut. He wore a simple sleeveless tunic that stretched over and down to a pair of tanned pants which were tucked into two brown leather boots. Pulling out his pipe and looking at Ardin he asked slowly. "I see ya took booking to a new level," he growled.

Ardin glared right back, "and I see the prize winning pig from last years fair." He shot back at his father who puffed up, looking even larger than before.

"Why I should punch you so hard you don't get up for a year!" He snarled, something hidden beneath his anger. A faint glimmer Ardin had never seen before... fear.

Ardin gave a dark smirk, "but you won't, old man. You know that I could have a spell off before you even moved to make a punch. Now stand aside so I can see the rest of my family."

Arvaus bristled and glowered at his son, "that is no way for a son to speak to his father! And I know ya pansy spellcasters can't do much with a broken jaw!" As he spoke his hand balled into a fist.

"Arvaus, is that Ardin here?" Came a calming and gentle voice from the house. A woman, a few years younger than Arvaus but clearly still not in her prime stepped from behind the big man. She had long silver blond hair tied back into a bun and a warm smile on her face. "Ardin! You're finally home!" She sobbed happily, pushing the large man aside to hug her favorite son tightly. "I'm so glad! Come, come! I have a dinner of your favorite food all ready!" She said, leading him inside and shooting a warning glare back at Arvaus. The large man losing his bluster as he followed them in.

"Hey mom, how have you and Jesse been?" He questioned, referring to his younger sister. A loud squeal and a small blurr practically knocked him down. A young version of Linette, his mother, sat on his chest. Like her mother Jesse had long golden hair but instead of being in a bun it was loose. "Haha, Jesse!" he said happily, hugging her tight.

"Ardin!" She squealed, hugging him back just as tight. "I missed you!" She cried into his chest, squeezing tight.

"I missed you too lil sis," he murmured affectionately, letting go of her to get up.

"Well well well, still getting pushed over by lil' girls?" Came a mocking voice as Ardin rose. It took all the young man's power to not let loose a groan as his older brother walked into the room from the doorway leading into the dining room. Unlike Ardin, his mother, and sister, Donias had short-cropped red hair and hard blue eyes, the spitting image of what his father used to look like. Donias looked to be made of complete muscle, and like his father he hard a hard glare focused on his brother.

Ardin gave his brother a cold look, "still going to the priests to get that disease from that cirty girl?" He said with as much calm as he could muster. Hearing a barely stifled snort of laughter from his sister and seeing his brother turn suddenly red, in anger and embarrassment most likely. Though this did also have the effect of leaving his brother speechless.

"Now now, no fighting you two." Linette said softly, pulling Ardin along. "Lets all just have a nice meal to celebrate our young mages return!" She said with a smile, both his brother and father grunting at that and following them into the dinning room.

Arvaus claimed the head of the table, while Donias sat at the other end. Jesse and Linette both sat on eitherside of Arvaus, and put Ardin closest to his brother beside Linette. Dinner was served and just as they began to eat a farm hand rushed in with a wild look planted on his face. "Master Arvaus! Master Donias! Some manner of creature is slinking out of the woods! We saw Mikael stumbling into our own housing with deep gouges across his chest and face.

Arvaus heaved himself up from his seat, growling. "Randolph, get your men armed with whatever ya can! Donias, get me my sword and get your own!" He turned his gaze to Ardin, 'stay here and protect your mom and sister," he growled before moving out of the dining room, his son and farmhand right behind him.

Ardin looked to his mother and sister, "it'll probably just be some bears right?" He murmured. Both gave an uncertain nod, "well, lets go to the door, if its anything worse my spells will be of use to them." He said, standing, and walking out, his mother and sister behind him. Getting to the open door they looked out and saw Arvaus barking orders to his farmhands who had armed themselves with some swords, pitchforks, and shovels.

Ardin might have hated his father and brother, but he could appreciate how well his father still remembered military training. They all tensed, apparently seeing motion in the woods. He looked past them and gaped at what he saw. Half-rotting, man-like beasts lumbered out. "What.. what are those?" He breathed, hearing snarls of fright and confusion from the line of defenders.

Whatever the things were charged forward, dirty claws scratching up the ground. A few of them still staggered forward, arms outstretched, while others ran across the ground like snarling wolves, eyes glowing yellow as they gibbered madly. The men began to attack as the beasts drew near, but nothing they did seemed to be able to really kill the things.

Ardin wet his lips and breathed out an incantation, sending a bolt of fire forth to strike one of the gibbering creatures. The creatures mad cries reached a crescendo as it burned away into nothing. But even as it fell two more began to assault a farmhand. Ardin turned to take them out when the ground suddenly gave out beneath him, ruining his spell as he fell to the ground. Stumbling back to his feet he peered out and gaped.

Emerging from the woods was a giant creature made from the stitched together parts of different people and metal. A patchork abomination of nightmare. Clutched in all three of its thick meaty hands were giant cleavers. Cries of dismay erupted from his father's line as the creature set into the farmhands. "Stand tall men! We shall drive these beasts from our-No.. No.. No-urrrgh!" His father's voice was cut off. He saw one of the snarling, gibbering, creatures rip out the old warrior's throat.

Ardin paled as arterial blood sprayed into the air, soaking the rotten flesh of the monster. He watched his brother rush over and decapitated the monster, a black-green fluid spraying out to cover the cooling corpse of his father. Donias cried out and turned, staring in horror as the huge monstrosity smashed a cleaver into his mid-section, cutting the young man in half. Cries of dismay and grief came from Ardin's mother and sister.

The young mage stood and hurled out spells, trying to halt the advancing force, now that all lay dead or dying in their path. A few of the monsters staying behind to rip and eat the corpses. He hurled one last spell before one of the gibbering things took him down, the last thign he saw was its drooling maw before darkness and pain took him. It was blessed relief to not see or hear his mother and sister die.


Coldness, darkness. Is this death? He wondered absently, the faint sound of scuffling feet echoed to him. Macabre laughing and the crackling pop of a flame devouring something. "Another one for the fire, eh?" Laughed a cold voice. Joined in by another, no mirth punctuating it. He opened his eyes, staring up at a marbled ceiling. He frowned, looking at the dark veining of it, the man sloly sat up and looked around. Other bodies in various stages of rot were resting around him and he gasped, the sound like dry leaves rustling in an autumn breeze as his lungs filled with air, then just seemed to vanish.

He looked down at his hands, skeletal apendages faintly covered in dark splotches that was old, dry, blood. He looked at the rest of his body. His skin was paler than before, and looked like a light blue. Flesh was gone from most parts of his body. Hesitantly he ran his fingers through his hair and felt rotting clumps, maggots, and dirt pull away. His hands slid down slowly, their bony claws slightly digging into the flesh. His left ran over a partiallty eaten ear, while his right found nothing. He gasped this new revelation sending him reeling.

He saw a silhouetted figure come into the light and looked up, a pair of glowing yellow eyes staring at him from that dark shadow. "Glad to see your awake, thought for sure you'd join others on the pyre." He looked him over, "well, come on, time for you to see your new home." The figure turned and walked up the long stairway behind him. The other felt drawn to follow him. Clearing the stairs and looking over at his leader he grimaced some, the man was a rotten mess. "All new ones experience that at first." A wicked grin split his face, "welcome to your new life." He said with a dark chuckle.

((Posted this up on the forums on the WoW site and decided to actually make a post here! >.>))

[Patsee]

(this is really interesting. Hopefully once I get a new computer and stop using my sister's, there will be more.)

[Van'nal]

~~~Chapter 1: Dark Tidings

“What… what do you mean by that?” He found his voice hoarse, was it with fear? No… no, he felt like he no longer knew what fear was, or what it felt like. But, he realized, this might just be fear. “This, this can’t possibly be life!” He crowed, his eyes flashing in anger.

“Would you prefer the other option?” The tall man questioned, moving a rotted hand to point toward a great bonfire where two, who must have once been men, monsters dragged corpses that were destroyed, and some that looked whole. “The fate of those not to rise, or those who did rise in time,” that grin split his face, showing every unnaturally sharp, rotted, teeth. “I am Undertaker Mordo, your welcoming party.” He gave a wicked laugh at that. “Oh, and have a wonderful time in Deathknell!” He gave a mock bow.

Scrambling away, and down into the town to get away from that Mordo, he found himself among others of his kind. They all varied in different stages of rot. Others looking almost whole, though they seemed to have a patchwork of skin upon them to accommodate this vanity of theirs. He wandered around, finally stumbling across the small inn. A bartender slouched behind the counter, his lower jaw gone and his loose tongue swinging wildly as he spoke with a patron.

He grimaced at the sight of the jawless man before looking around. A mirror hung haphazardly, broken and seemingly forgotten, on a nearby wall. He hesitantly walked over and wiped away cling dust and grime to see himself. It wasn’t as bad as he thought, except for his missing ear, skin tone, and those eerie eyes, he almost looked like his old self. “I can fix that one problem,” he murmured. Looking at a broken table to find an old knife lying discarded; retrieving it he found it to be a dagger. With a small shrug, he brought the blade to where his remaining ear met his head and sliced it away slowly. Hissing from numbed pain he kept cutting until it was fully gone.

He tossed aside the useless thing and looked back at the mirror; blackish ichor was running from the wound slowly. “Now why would you go and do that? See if you can still bleed?” Came a rustling, haunting, voice. Gentle, skeletal hands were placed on either side of head, soon followed by soft words. He felt… nothing; there was no warming sensation that flooded through him, not even coldness, just nothing.

The hands drew away slowly, allowing him to turn his head to see that the hole where his newly severed ear had been was sealed over and stopped bleeding. He also saw the woman responsible for this healing. A beauty of undeath to be sure, the only visible signs were her skeletal hands and glowing eyes, but she otherwise looked human. “There, all patched up.” She said with a chuckle, “yet you still have not answered my question, why did you slice off your ear?”

He turned slowly and looked up at her quietly. “I looked lopsided, so I fixed that problem.” He said simply, finding his mind to work much more pragmatically. He now had a much better look at this apparent priest. She had long red hair that was not marred by any of the grime that crusted his. The rot that was so prevalent on others of their people was almost undetectable on her except for that sickly sweet smell, almost completely held at bay by the strong heady incense smelling of Arthas’ Tear, Grave Moss, and Plaguebloom. Intoxicating. She wore flowing robes of black with a high collar that covered her neck. Her skin still seemed to have a hint of color to it, though very little.

She was a veritable angel of death.

He blinked as she watched him expectantly; she must have asked him a question while he was lost in his musings about her. “Forgive me, my mind isn’t what it used to be, and neither is my hearing as you can see.” He cracked a grin at that, feeling his face crack with it, “could you ask again?”

“I asked you your name, and told you mine.” She said with that light chuckle again that would send shivers down his spine, if he were still living. “I am Ilaina Everhope, and you are?”

He opened his mouth to reply before stopping. Closing his mouth he pondered it for a moment before saying, “I… I don’t remember.” He murmured, “it feels like I should, but I just can’t seem to remember it.”

Ilaina gave a small nod, “so it is with many of the Forsaken who return. They are the lucky ones, for there are those who remember their names, and their old lives, and they are the ones who run and embrace the flames of the pyre like a lover. They are the weak ones.” She gave a small shrug at this, “others invent a new identity for themselves, one that reflects upon their true self deep down. Now I ask again, what is your name?” She said with her own smile, showing her own sharpened teeth.

He was quiet once again, thinking hard on this one before he looked up into her eyes. “Sircis, Sircis Darkener.” He said quietly, only enough for her to hear.

[Van'nal]

~~~Chapter 2: A New Life

Sircis and Ilaina left the small inn, walking out into the preternatural darkness that enshrouds all of Lordaeron. “So, Sircis, do you remember anything at all about your past?” Ilaina asked him curiously, the two walking along toward a point of interest for the Forsaken. A camp of living warriors known as the Scarlet Crusade was hiding just near the exit of Deathknell and entrance to the rest of Tirisfal Glades. Their mission, wipe them out.

“Not really, no. I remember faces of some people though. Two fill me with utter hatred while the others… the others fill me with a deep sorrow.” He gave a shrug, “doesn’t matter anyway, they are either dead or dying.”

Ilaina stared at him with something akin to sorrow in her eyes, “I see.” She whispered softly. Facing ahead again to watch their trail, it was sometime before she spoke again. “What were you in life?”

That took him somewhat by surprise, “well. My mother had me learn the spells of a mage over in Dalaran. But… I learned spells of a dark variety beforehand. The spells of a warlock,” he murmured. He half-expected her to attack him immediately, but instead she gave a light laugh. He turned to her in shock.

“Good, that’ll make this job much easier,” she said with a light smile. He gave a hesitant nod, “so go on, summon your imp!”

He gave a snort, “my dear, I am far beyond the mere imp.” She gave him a curiously look as he chanted. A dark purple glow suffusing his body as he murmured words that would make a mortal’s ears bleed.

He finished and a great demon appeared, “Who dares summon me?!” It boomed the demon stood tall, head and shoulders above both Forsaken. He had a yellow-orange skin, with heavy black and silver armor. Gripped in its massive fist was a giant axe. His piercing yellow eyes focused on Sircis, “you are not my former master.”

“Oh but I am. And you shall heed my words Haadhuun!” He bellowed, “Or I shall visit pain upon you like you could never imagine, do you understand?” He snarled, making the large demon quail slightly.

“Yes master Ardin-.“ He began.

“Sircis, don’t mention that name.” He said darkly, the demon nodding. The small group started walking again and Sircis turned to Ilaina, “this has been bugging me for a bit now Ilaina. But I am curious how you look so… so,” he struggled for a word. “So alive.” He finally settled on, deciding he did not want to use beautiful, not yet at least.

She gave a sad smile, “as you can tell I was a priest in my living days. When the Scourge fell across the land, and the plague began to spread, I thought I would rather die by my own hands than the off-chance the wretched undead could bypass the holy ground of the church I was in and kill me, making me one of their own.” She pulled the collar of her robe down slowly, showing the long, ugly, slit across her throat. It was haphazardly stitched together, though still apparent.

“I sliced my own throat in a hope of escaping this... this curse.” She whispered, agony in her voice. “But the Plague knew no boundaries, and I awoke, bathed in my own blood.” She closed her eyes, if she could cry she would. Her voice cracked as she continued, “I wanted to end it all there, drive my blood-stained dagger into every inch of my body till whatever sustained me gave out and I could finally move on to join the Holy Light.

“Then, he found me.” She gave a weak smile as she looked over at Sircis, “Shadow Priest Sarvis arrived and told me of the glory of the Shadow. He inducted me into his Mass and from there I’ve learned how to heal with the Shadow, how to do the things I used to do with the Holy Light, I still wanted to keep up the charade of life, though, using ways to mask the smell of rot on me with incense, bathing in clean water. I suppose you think me vain?”

“Not at all, I could understand that feeling very well, and to be honest, you are very beautiful.” He went out on a limb, she looked at him in surprise before smiling. Their wandering and talking had lead the Scarlets to them. The zealots rushing from the woods, crying out for their death. Sircis stared in shock before composing himself, “Haadhuun! Destroy them!” He snarled.

“A paltry task, master.” He thundered, rushing forward, his heavy axe slicing in. A Scarlet raised his shield only to have it split by the stronger metal, and cleave open his chest dropping him. The presence of the demon caused the Scarlets to immediately turn and focus on the bellowing behemoth.

Sircis murmured words and flung a hand forth, one of the warriors crying out in pain as he fell, clutching his chest. Another spell came forth, a black corruption streaming from the warriors mouth, nose, ears and eyes. His death was ignored as Sircis shouted out another spell, a bolt of pure shadow smashing into a warrior’s head to drop him screaming.

Ilaina was not idle, throwing up spells from the Shadow to heal Haadhuun while he laid waste to the Scarlets. “There! The target we seek,” Ilaina said, pointing toward a man who began to run from the fight.

“I have him,” Sircis snarled. Racing after the fleeing, he threw his dagger awkwardly as he ran, the missile flying to clip the fleeing messenger just across his Achilles tendon. As the man staggered Sircis was upon him, his fangs sank into the back of the messenger’s neck and ripped upward. He barely heard the man’s screams as he chewed and swallowed the flesh. His claws fell around the throat and ripped upward, tearing out everything. The messenger collapsed. Dead.

Sircis found the message and made his way back to the battle, finding his minion covered in slowly healing wounds, and the dead Scarlets lying everywhere on the ground. Sircis himself was covered in the blood of the skeleton he had left back where the messenger fell. “I have the message.”

Ilaina stared at him before giving a nod, “let’s go then.” She murmured, the three walking back toward Deathknell. Ilaina not remarking on the state of Sircis, except to use a cleansing spells to wash away the blood. It seemed Sircis truly did embrace this new life.

[Van'nal]

~~~Chapter 3: Something Old and Something New

“Well, that mission was successful. How about we venture out and see some of the country side?” Ilaina said with a light chuckle, her eyes twinkling some.

Sircis pondered it for a moment, “hmm, very well. How about around near the border of Silverpine? I don’t know why, but for some reason I feel drawn to there.” He murmured, a little puzzled by this. He shrugged it off and smiled to her, “shall we?”

She grinned at him and nodded, “but of course.” She said softly, both of them taking the long winding road that lead them along the dark countryside. Here and there were demonic hounds, small worgs, and other grim creatures.

Sircis paused their stroll, “I think I’ll summon one of my demons to ward off any attempts at attack from the various fauna.” He whispered, murmuring dark words. There was a bright flash of purple light and there before them was a slavering demonic creature.

The thing had red-brown fur, with a long dark black streak running across its back. Two long, wavering tentacles snaked across its back. Two large horns appeared off its shoulders, leading down to a bony face that was filled with rows of sharp fangs. No eyes could be seen on the creature’s face. It gave a snarling yip and sniffed at Sircis. Before giving a happy bark and licking his cold dead flesh.

“Ha-ha, good boy Thazuun! Long time no see, eh?” He said with a chuckle, scratching its dark mane. He smiled at Ilaina, “other children had dogs. I had a demonic hound that feasted upon the energy of life and spell!” Both chuckled together and continued on, the Thazuun growling whenever something came to near, scaring them away.

As the path neared the border of Silverpine Sircis froze, staring up at a hill where a two-story house sat. Broken shutters showed bright windows. Images flashed through his head, men dying in the front yard of a house as the Scourge force came nearer. Him, hurling the spells of a mage to try and stop them, being overwhelmed, glad he would not see the deaths of… of, someone.

“Ilaina, that house… we need to go there.” He whispered.

She frowned some, “very well Sircis, lead the way.” She hooked her arm in his and the two started walking. Thazuun prowling ahead of them, sniffing the air, as they drew closer to the home he began to growl and snarl. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He senses magic inside,” Sircis murmured, unhooking his arm from hers and climbing the steps. The door flew open and a blast of Holy Light shot forth. Sending Sircis stumbling back, “Aargh!” He roared in pain.


Looking up through watering eyes to see an old woman in long robes of scarlet glaring at him, while a younger woman stood by her side, broad sword clutched in hand. The older one wore the adornments of a Bishop of the Scarlet Crusade, while the younger wore those of the Crusaders. “Monster! You shall face death by my… hand.”

The older woman frowned as she looked at Sircis. “You look familiar,” she murmured. Her eyes scrutinizing the still weak form before widening. “Ardin? Is that you?” She breathed hesitantly, not daring to believe that her favorite son was now a monster.

Sircis frowned at the name the woman used. Memories came to him, the older woman was his mother Linette, and the younger was his sister Jesse. He stared at them both quietly, not saying anything.

“Oh, Ardin, it is you.” Linette sobbed, “you’re one of them though. One of those monsters,” she gave a small sniffle. “My son, my dear son, please let me set you free from this torment. Please let your mother help.”

Sircis stared, his tongue coming out to lick his lips a little before he spoke, “this name, Ardin, means nothing to me, and neither do you, you old hag.” His eyes flashed yellow, “Thazuun, kill.” The command was cold, leaving both women shocked. The snarling fel hunter raced from where he waited. Tackling Linette to the ground and beginning to drain her fully as she screamed.

“You bastard!” Jesse yelled, turning to face him only to find a boned claw take her full in the throat.

Ilaina glared at her as she stood close, her claw clenching inside of Jesse’s throat. “No one calls my Sircis a bastard.” She hissed darkly, baring her fangs as she ripped her hand away, Jesse’s cold corpse dropping to the ground.

Thazuun walked away from the drained husk that was Linette, looking a little larger as it sat next to Sircis. Sircis looked over to Ilaina and grinned, “’my Sircis’?” He questioned with a small chuckle.

Ilaina looked over at him with a light grin “Forsaken can still feel something’s other than sorrow, anger, and hate.” She murmured, slipping her bloody hand in his. “And now look, we have a nice big house for us!” She said with a chuckle.

“Yes, a base of operations for us it seems.” He was quiet for a moment before saying, “Ilaina. I want to rid the Scarlets from our land for good. I am planning to attack their main stronghold here, and I feel like there would be a map to it somewhere in this home.” Looking over into her shocked face he said softly, “I will find three others to journey with us, and we shall crush them.”

Ilaina gave a smile, “ah, our honeymoon then.” She said, kissing him lightly on the lips, Sircis returning it in kind.

((Aw, true love!))

[Van'nal]

~~~Chapter 4: The Assault

Sircis and Ilaina looked over those they had found to supplement their group with for their attack on the Scarlet Monastery. They all had gathered in the small inn in Brill.

One of them was a thin, slightly small, troll mage. Long tribal robes hanging on his small frame, each one marked with a design depicting some form of magic or Loa. He had a long staff made of delicately worked iron, with the skulls of four dragon whelps decorating its top, was across his back. He had given his name as Ra’maki.

The next one was a hulking orc, showing the thick muscles almost all of his kind sported. Long black hair, streaming into different braids beaded with symbols of the ancestors and elements sparkled in his hair. The shaman had a large war axe was gripped in his large, thick, hands. A savage grin on his face, Rosh was his name.

The last one was a slightly old tauren woman, standing a little larger than the shaman. She wore long leather robes, with a great mallet resting across her back. A cheery smile was on her face as the druid coaxed a small flower from the ground, only slightly paying attention to the others. Her name was Beruna.

Sircis gave a small nod, “you all know why we have gathered together. The Scarlet Monastery has too long stood in the lands of the Horde without being toppled. Ilaina and my Forsaken kin have assaulted the bastion of the accursed Crusade countless times in great numbers with no success.

“So it was my idea to bring in a small group, only five strong, and sneak into the Monastery and kill its leaders one-by-one.” The others gave nods of ascent at the thought to this. “First we have Interrogator and Lord Assassin of the Monastery, Richard Dersies. He took over for Vishas after an unfortunate accident occurring to the previous interrogator.

“Then there is the Hound Master Loksey, he has the command of all the Scarlet Hunters and their feral dogs. He will be a tough foe indeed; he is guarded by a few of the hounds he commands. But with his death things should go much smoother. There have been reports he is wounded and slightly insane from this, should be easy to end him.

“Then there is the Arcanist Doan, a powerful mage to be sure, but still able to be brought down. He holds a powerful spell that is supposedly supposed to be able to send out a large blast of flame that can kill, slowly. We end him; we destroy the inner workings of the Crusade a little more.

“Next there is the Champion, Herod; he shall be brought down quickly to hopefully throw more of the warriors of the Crusade into disarray. He is guarded by stronger forces than in the Library. But with his death, we move onto the Cathedral where our last annoyances remain.

“In the Cathedral are the true leaders of this bastion for the Crusade. Undoubtedly they will summon to them the remaining members of the Crusade that have escaped our vengeful path. We shall be contending with a powerful Paladin, the youngest son of Alexandros Mograine, the Ashbringer. As well as his supposed sweetheart, High Inquisitor Whitemane.

“If we manage to defeat all of these fools, we shall claim the Monastery in the name of the Horde, so shall you fight beside me?”

“I be witcha mon,” Ra’maki said with a wide smile. “Anytin’ ta kill dese Crusada’s and gain me some items o’ magic, eh?”

“You shall have my support as well; it is time these fools learn that their Light is nothing compared to the power of the Ancestors and Elements!” Rosh growled, his eyes burning in glee.

Beruna gave him an airy smile, and just nodded her head in answer.

“Good, then let us go for our Assault!” Sircis crowed, the group convening their meeting in Brill and leaving into the Tirisfal Glades. Going with all speed to reach the Monastery and begin.

((Ok, this chapter turned out to be longer than I first thought, so each wing will have its own chapter!

The attack on the new INterrogator will be appearing momentarily!))

[Van'nal]

~~~Chapter 5: The Graveyard

The trek took roughly four hours, and as they drew close all stopped for a break to replenish their lost energy from the run. As they broke camp Sircis spoke, “remember, stealth to get inside of the Graveyard where we will confront Dersies. By then an alarm will have been raised and we can go on our bloody rampage.”

They nodded and moved off, keeping to the shadows as hey snuck into the Monastery just under the noses of the guards. Creeping along they climbed down the stairwell that lead toward the Graveyard and interrogation room. They saw two Scarlet members dressed in leathers and cloth, and gripping hot metallic pokers. Torturers.

“Attack,” he whispered. And the group sprung into motion. Beruna rushed forward snarling, taking the men by surprise. In a flash of green light a large bear made its loping way to them. Swiping both to force them to face the large beast. Rosh came next, shouting an orc battle cry as he leapt and struck with his axe, the heavy weapon piercing the leather of one of the torturers to send him stumbling backward, not seriously wounding him.

Then Ra’maki and Sircis threw their spells at him, and he was left dead on the ground, scorched from fire, and pale from shadow. Their eyes turned to the other falling under the heavy fangs and axe of Beruna and Rosh. They continued on, encountering more torturers until they heard a voice leap at them from the Interrogation Chambers. “Ah! Interlopers in the affairs of the Crusade! How wicked,” from the steps came a man leading ten torturers and priests with him.

Interrogator and High Assassin Dersies grinned at his enemies. The man wore deep red leathers emblazoned with the symbol of the Scarlet Crusade. He was old, with dark wrinkled skin and a graying mustache and thinning bald pate. He had the muscular build of some sword-brained warrior rather than what could be considered of an Assassin. He gave a grimace at the sight of their group, “two corpses, a flea-bitten cow, a green-skinned toad, and a smelly jungle rat.

“Not the most appealing group, but one I will take great pleasure in killing. Guards, attack! Leave the rotting ones for me…” He ordered, his force rushing forward to keep Rosh, Beruna, and Ra’maki too occupied to help Sircis and Ilaina as Dersies seemed to completely vanish.

Sircis and Ilaina began to back up, looking around warily. A fist caught Ilaina in the back of the head, sending her staggering to slump on the ground. Sircis roared in anger and spun around, his long claws flashing to catch on an upraised sword of the old assassin. “Aw, did I hurt the monsters little lady love?” Dersies mocked, his hand flashing and causing deep cuts across Sircis’ stomach, sending the warlock stumbling away in shock.

He lifted up the offending hand to reveal a metal gauntlet that resembled a claw. “A creation from a dwarf I paid a heavy commission to in Stormwind, he is a master of metalworking as you can plainly see.” He attacked again, slicing at Sircis with his sword and gauntlet again, making it so the warlock could not cast a single spell. “Maybe I should just cut off your arms and legs then slowly slice off the head of the girl, yes let you watch her die.” Dersies gave a dark laugh.

Sircis lost it at those words and gave an animalistic snarl that caught the assassin off-guard. He lunged forward, past the blades and gouged through the thick leather chest armor, and dug a bit into the flesh. Dersies howled in pain and moved backward, glaring in anger at the undead. But this helped Sircis who gave a grin filled with fangs.

He growled out dark words and the flash of purple light followed. Towering before him was Haadhuun, the great fel guard bellowed as he was summoned. “Haadhuun, kill.” Sircis growled, pointing at Dersies who stared in horror.

“It shall be done master,” the demon droned, charging forward and causing the assassin a great deal of trouble. Sircis began to drone out more words, he was using a ploy he thought he would need to use against the Commander and High Inquisitor, but all would be for naught if he did not use it now.

There was a blinding flash of light, and when it ended Sircis slumped against a wall, staring at what he had done. His other minions appeared before him. Thazuun, snarling and growling as he leapt at a priest, beginning to drain them.

Hesriel, the succubus, running a slow hand across her body to cause a torturer to stare long enough for his head to go flying from Rosh before she rushed in, laying about with her whip.

Thognos, the large voidwalker going ponderously forward to inflict a torturous pain upon another torturer making him turn to fight the great being of shadow.

Gelyal, a small imp, stayed back from the fight. Hopping over to Sircis, “Ismasterok?” It questioned, its words coming out so fast to barely be understood.

“Yes Gelyal, yes I am. Please check on the priestess laying across the ground for me though, see if she still lives.” Sircis said with a small smile at the imp, he liked how concerned this demon was for him.

“Itshallbedonemaster,” the imp said and hopped over to Ilaina’s body, shaking her a little to produce a low groan from her. “Shestilllivesmaster!” The imp said over to Sircis who gave a sigh of relief.

The warlock stood, grunting, and walked over to his love. Helping her up slowly as she came too. Looking up he watched as the last of the guards were finished off, and on Dersies was left, the assassin slowly wearing down Haadhuun.

But he was not expecting the others to strike so soon, and as a result was taken down. As he died a gong sounded throughout the Monastery and he gave a bloody laugh as the adventurers stood over him, Ilaina once again fully awake. Blood streaming from his lips as he spoke, “now the whole Monastery shall be risen against you. Each of the leaders prepared to kill you, you won’t escape this alive.”

Sircis glared down at him, “we shall see about that.” He said solemnly, growling a spell that drained the soul from the assassin’s body even as he cried out in protest. “Let’s go.” Sircis said, stepping over the completely pallid corpse, the rest following. All of his demons leading except Gelyal who rode upon the warlock’s shoulder.

((It is very hard to read what Gelyal says, I wanted to try and actually type how I think an imp talking would sound =p))

[Van'nal]

~~~Chapter 6: The Library

As they exited the stairwell they saw the main room that branched off into the different sections completely empty of scarlet guards. This disturbed them somewhat, but they continued on, determined to find the leaders in the Library. As soon as they descended the stairwell they were greeted by another eerie sight.

The whole front hallway of the Library was empty; as they walked along they found the same to be true everywhere. But as they drew closer to the end of this large wing they froze just at the corner. There, garrisoned behind benches, chairs, and tables was the whole of the forces of the Library.

“Looks like that damn human was right, we have to break through those lines and kill the twin leaders of this wing, who are both going to fight beside one another. How are we going to manage to do that?” Rosh grunted, looking to Sircis.

He looked to the orc and grinned, “We get bloody.” Was all he said before ordering his demons’ charge, leaping behind them as the four lead demons rushed at the surprised line. Rosh and Beruna charged out after them, Beruna rushing forward looking like some horned lion, while Rosh gave his bellowing cry to the ancestors.

Ilaina rushed into view behind them, quickly hurling healing spells to make sure none of the demons, nor their non-demonic companions died.

Ra’maki and Sircis followed her into view, Gelyal standing on his master’s shoulder. The mage and imp loosed spells of fire, while Sircis threw bolts of pure shadow that smashed into people to make them cry out in pure pain. Though, even with the help of Sircis’ demons, the fight was a long and vicious one. As the last member fell, the group had to retreat and refresh themselves.

“Only the Arcanist and Houndmaster left now.” Sircis said, drinking water conjured by Ra’maki. “We kill them and we can continue on.” They nodded and rose, making their way back. Stepping across the mess they had made until they found the final room. There stood two tall humans.

Both men were balding, and clearly no longer in their prime. One of them wore chain armor, with a tabard emblazoned with the symbol of the Crusade worn across his chest. Clutched in his thick hands were twin axes. Bloody bandages could be seen just barely through his chest armor, and leg armor. There was a slightly crazed look to his eyes as he glared at the intruders, three snarling hyenas in front of him. This was undoubtedly Loksey.

The other was taller of the two wore crimson and purple robes, and had look of pure and utter hatred on his face. Gripped in his hand was a staff of wrought iron with a glowing emerald set atop it. This was Doan. “So the alarm was true, Dersies is dead I am guessing.” Doan said slowly, “ the fool was overconfident it seemed, Loksey and I are not of that same mindset though.” A wicked grin appeared on his face. “Though you have killed all of our defenders it seems, you shall pay for such. Loksey, you know what to do.”

“Release the hounds!” The man thundered, a crazed grin on his face as his feral dogs rushed forward.

“I’ll handle them,” Beruna stated, shifting into her bear form and attacking the hyenas with brutal savagery.

“Rosh, you Ra’maki and I will handle the Arcanist with Gelyal and Thazuun. Haadhuun, Hesriel, and Thognos can deal with Loksey.” Sircis said, Rosh nodding as he rushed the mage, swinging his axe which the mage blocked with his staff.

Thazuun charged along beside the muscular orc shaman, setting his own wicked demonic magic upon the mage.

Sircis, Gelyal, and Ra’maki began hurling their own spells, finding many to seemingly be resisted by the powerful mage.

“No… Not like this! No!” Loksey cried as he stumbled away, slowly dying.

“Loksey!” Doan shouted in shock, he saw the hounds dead and the demons and druid making their way toward him. He summoned forth a shield of pure magic and began to channel his strongest spell. “Burn in righteous fire!”

“Get out!” Sircis shouted, retreating. The others quick rushing to follow him out of the spell’s radius. They heard Doan curse, but he could not stop the channeling of the spell now. And as it went off the corpses of Loksey and his hounds burned away into ash. The shield fell, and so too did Doan as the soul draining effects of Sircis took hold of him.

The group looted what remained of Loksey and the corpse of Doan, Sircis finding himself a new staff, robes, and mantle while Ra’maki got a nice new dagger. Severing the head of Doan with it and burning away the skin he said simply, “da skull of a magic user still be havin’ some power to it mon.”

Rosh got a new pair of gloves while Beruna found a staff of her own from the remains of Loksey. Ilaina had apparently needed nothing from this, but had taken something from a chest. The key to the Monastery. So the group marched out, leaving behind the remains of what was once one of the Scarlet controlled wings, ready to attack Herod in his home.

[Van'nal]

~~~Chapter 7: Request for Aid

The small band, using the Scarlet Key garnered from Doan entered the Armory. Entering the wing where soldiers were trained and weapons distributed they found minimal resistance. Slight skirmishes designed to attempt to kill the interlopers. But each one ended with the Crusaders escaping.

“’Ey mon, I be t’inkin’ we won’ be findin’ Herod in here.” Ra’maki said, looking toward Sircis. “If he were here, we’d be seein’ more dan just dese meager forces y’know?”

“I am inclined to agree, from reports I had heard Herod is supposedly a great brute, not holding back what would be his full forces in killing a few attacks.” Sircis murmured, “he has probably retreated into the Cathedral. There we can expect to find his forces definitely holding the front hall.”

“If we go to the Cathedral, where their combined might is stronger we will not prevail.” Ilaina said, countering Sircis. “This endeavor seems to be lost, not even with the might of your demons can we break their lines. I had a hard time keeping your pets, Rosh, and Beruna healed.”

Sircis scratched at his chin before looking to the troll, “Ra’maki, teleport yourself to the Undercity and get to Sylvanas’ chamber immediately. Ask to speak with Varimathras and tell him we need a contingent of the Forsaken army to help us break the final lines of the Crusade.”

Ra’maki gave a small nod, “I be on it mon, back in a bit!” He said, channeling his spell and vanishing from sight.

“Sircis! A contingent of our forces?!” Ilaina practically yelled at him, “we are dealing with bigger problems than just this one Monastery!” She gave a meaningful look at Beruna and Rosh who nodded their understanding and moved off a bit to give the two privacy.

Sircis looked to Ilaina, “this Monastery could serve as a launching point for the entire force of the Scarlet Crusade to fall upon our homes! Yes we have the Scourge and Alliance to deal with, but surely two hundred soldiers could be spared to claim for us this holding.”

Ilaina looked to him and whispered, “I just don’t want you to get in trouble, if we lose those soldiers and cannot defeat their leaders you will be killed for calling for them.”

“But if we succeed I could receive great praise! Ilaina, I trust in our brothers and sisters enough to know they can hold off the brunt of the forces while we defeat their leaders. But do you?” He questioned.

Ilaina looked to him quietly and gave him a gentle kiss in response, “I’ll stand by your side then, love.” She whispered softly, giving him a sad smile.

Sircis smiled back to her, “thank you my dearest Ilaina.” He said, hugging her close. Before pulling away and looking to the other two, “we should set some sort of camp here for the night; it’ll take Ra’maki at least a day to arrive with the proper forces.”

Beruna and Rosh gave quick nods, moving to set up a camp for both of the living. Sircis and Ilaina only needing it to replenish the exhaustion they felt drawing upon primarily their own energy to fuel them.

*The Undercity*

Ra’maki waited behind a long line of petitioners quietly. Sipping some water and eating a kabob fashioned primarily from rats. He looked over at an orc petitioner in front of him. He tapped the orc on the shoulder and waited for him to turn before saying “How ‘bout them Frostwolves?”

“They seem to be doing pretty good this season, though those Alterac dwarves are definitely tough. Drek’thar is definitely the MVS of their forces, but with a defensive captain like Galvangar it’s hard for him to not be!”

“I know whatcha mean mon!” Ra’maki said with a laugh, “dem dwarves be tough, specially with their Vanndar pushing harder each time, but Balinda, she be nothin’ mon!” He said with another laugh.

The orc gave his own laugh at that, “I know what ya mean! I heard the troops see her as little more than a figurehead for the humans. Honestly, I worry most about the wingmasters. All three of them are supposedly free and fighting one another in the skies.”

“Bah, our guys have dis fight down! Da dwarves, dey have some good fighters, but it is nothin’ compared to ours!”

“Yea and Mulv is apparently looking real good this season, same with his wyvern! Their commander, what’s his name, Ichman doesn’t stand a chance!” The orc said with a grin.

“I know whatcha mean mon!” He said with another laugh.

“What about those Warsong?” The orc said.

“Hate to say it, but dey be in bad shape this season mon, da Sentinels will have dem dis year.” Ra’maki said with a sigh.

“I know what you mean, but what can ya do?”

“Go the gulch maself and make dem Sentinel’s pay!” Ra’maki said with a chuckle.
“Oh, yea, that could work!” The orc chuckled with him.

*Next Day*

The sound of a loud marching woke the sleeping Rosh and Beruna, while rousing both Forsaken from the meditative state they had fallen into. Moving into a group they worried that the Armory was about to welcome home its leader and all of his forces when Ra’maki came strolling around the corner with a dreamy look on his face.

“I got them troops ya wanted mon,” he said with a chuckle. Poking a thumb over his shoulder. The four rushed over and looked up, there, standing at the top of the hill a female Forsaken garbed in the armor of a hunter walked down the steps slowly. A large fierce cat prowling at her side.

Her flesh was almost completely rotten, her hair matted against those disgusting features. Skin was gone from around her mouth, replaced by clay. And the holes were eyes would be were completely black. A more disfigured form of the Forsaken.

A ghostly silhouette surrounded her body, showing that of a banshee. This would be something akin to Sylvanas except with a different body. “Hello good soldiers’ of the Horde I am Ranger Lieutenant Lanali of the 501st Forsaken army. I hear you need help punching through a Crusade line, my troops are at your service.”

Sircis gave a wide smile, “my thanks to you ma’am! My plan for this is simple; you and your force will occupy the attention of the Scarlet forces, while my group and I assault their remaining leaders. Then, if you’d be kind enough to garrison the Monastery with your own forces, we hold this and have a great enemy of ours in the Tirisfal Glades gone.”

The Ranger Lieutenant gave a small nod, “a wise decision warlock. If you’ll accompany me, we shall begin our assault.” She turned, climbing the steps, the band following her. “When you hear the sounds of battle, come in.” She said simply, before moving off.

“Ra’maki, how’d you get Varimathras to agree?” Ilaina whispered to the troll curiously.

“Talked to an orc about our forces stats. Apparently Varimathras is a Warsong fan.” The troll said with a shrug, causing each of the others to look at one another in puzzlement.

[Van'nal]

~~~Chapter 8: Scarlet Sermon

The five waited until the sounds of battle came before rushing in; they saw a line of Crusaders desperately battling the onslaught of the Forsaken forces. The Crusaders only seemed to be two-hundred strong, while the 501st was nearly at five-hundred troops, five times the number Sircis had guessed at.

The Crusader defense quickly crumbled and the 501st continued their charge through, the five hot on the heels of the large force. The Ranger Lieutenant seemed to be laughing as her division swarmed up the large oak door of the Cathedral. “Bring it down!” She ordered, her force holding two of the freed Abominations who lumbered forward. Smashing their considerable bulk against the door to break it down.

The door splintered, flying inwards, and greeted a force of nearly four-hundred Crusaders. The bastion held more troops than they thought. Behind this force stood the three remaining leaders of the Monastery.

Herod, the Scarlet Champion, looked like some wild barbarian. He wore heavy mail armor on his head, shoulders, fists, feet, and legs, with none on his chest. Gripped in a massive hand he held a wicked looking blade. He alone looked nearly twice the size of Rosh, or even Thrall!

Renault Mograine, the Scarlet Commander, stood at his side. He was slightly shorter than Herod and wore thicker armor, more plate than mail armor. He was still very muscular though, and had yellow-red hair. With a slight beard and mustache. He was young, maybe in his early twenties, and glared at the Horde forces with simmering hate.

The last was a bear wisp of a girl; she wore cloth armor that looked to be very revealing. She had red markings on her face, long scarlet rectangles running across her eyes. She gripped a long staff in one delicate hand. Long white hair streamed down the sides of her head, a red chapeau on top. She looked upon the forces with utter disgust. “Warriors of the Crusade, kill them.” High Inquisitor Whitemane said darkly.

A collective roar erupted from the gathered force as they ran to attack the Ranger Lieutenant’s forces. “Members of the Forsaken! Strike down these wicked foes, we shall show them the scarlet of their blood!” Lanali cried, firing her arrow t take a monk in the eye and drop him. “Be quick my friends, defeat them and turn your eyes upon their forces if we need the help.” She hissed.

Sircis clapped her on the shoulder, “they will soon be of no trouble.” He turned back, “Rosh, Beruna, Ra’maki, hold off Herod. Haadhuun, Thognos, Hesriel, make sure their Commander does nothing to halt the killing of his comrades. Gelyal, Thazuun, and I will fight back against Whitemane. Alright team, break!”

Rosh, Beruna, and Ra’maki gave nods and turned their attention upon Herod who was rushing toward the thick of the fight. Beruna gave a shout as she turned into the form of a great bear. Charging at the champion and digging long furrows across his chest, forcing him to turn and glare at her. He swung his axe hard toward her flank, but Rosh was there, holding it back with his own axe.

Ra’maki hurled a fireball at Herod, but it seemed like the huge human just shook it off and kept fighting. But the troll mage looked like he would not give up. More spells flew as Herod brought his axe haft around, slamming both Beruna and Rosh away to charge at Ra’maki. “Loa preserve me.” He growled, back-pedaling as quick as possible.

The berserking Champion drew near, he hefted his axe high and swung it forward. A blur of fur pushed Ra’maki aside and roared in pain as the axe cleft deep into Beruna’s side. She roared in pain and turned burning red eyes upon the champion, wrenching his weapon away and rising on her haunches to swat his head.

There was a sick snapping sound as Herod fell back, his face smashing into the ground with his back.

Beruna slumped backward, giving a low growl of pain. Already Ilaina was sending healing spells aplenty onto the gravely wounded druid.

Mograine snarled as he battled the three demons, his hammer smashing into Thognos whose form just shifted somewhat, leaking shadow stuff, before returning to normal. “Foul demons! I shall throw you back into the nether myself!”

“I think not!” Haadhuun bellowed, his axe slashing downward to be caught on Mograine’s axe. Both struggling to overcome the other and break this stalemate. As Mograine began to win he saw the large demon grin. “Fool.” As he said that one word a whip wrapped itself around Mograine’s neck and yanked backward, tightening dreadfully.

“You’ve been a naughty boy Mograine, a very naughty boy.” Hesriel’s soft voice echoed into his ear as she drew him close. Gently kissing his neck even as his face turned blue. “Normally I like naughty boys, but I can’t let you live my pet. Oh well,” she whispered, feeling him slump.

The succubus unwound her whip and looked down, “so ends the Scarlet Commander.”

Thazuun snarled as he sucked away the shield spell Whitemane continuously threw upon herself. His long snaking tentacles attempting to attach to her though she constantly warded them away while countering the spells of Gelyal and Sircis. The warlock cursed, “she is definitely tough.”

“We’re… your… side… mas…ter,” the low, droning, voice of Thognos said as the other demons arrived beside Sircis.

“Command us and we shall do your bidding, Master Sircis.” Haadhuun growled, gripping his axe tight.

“Whatever you wish, we shall do.” Hesriel purred, running a finger down his cheek.

Sircis grinned at his minions, his allies, “kill the lady Whitemane.” Was all he said. The demons gave their own thundering shouts, and attacked.

Whitemane looked up to see her doom bear upon her. The last words she spoke as the demons drew close was, “the Crusade has failed.” Then she was lost under the heavy assault.

The battle ended, the 501st having lost near one-hundred of their original number, but the Crusaders were broken. The Monastery now under the ownership of the Horde, a place where the priests of the Forgotten Shadow, the Loa, the Light, and the shamans of the Elements and Ancestors can train.

The group split up afterwards, though Sircis and Ilaina stayed together, and his demons remained out of the Nether with him all the time. The two, plus the demons, soon found great and terrible items of magic and weaponry. Sircis becoming a powerful warlock and Ilaina a great priest, both pledging loyalty to the forces of Sylvanas.

[Van'nal]

Epilogue: Truly Forsaken?

“Well my dear, it has been a long time hasn’t it?” Sircis said to Ilaina as both relaxed amongst the beautiful trees of Terokkar, two large nether drakes rested nearby. Sircis’ drake was an onyx black while Ilaina’s drake was violet. Both were close to the stronghold, Stonebreaker Hold.

Sircis’ demons rested nearby, waiting to leave upon the twin drakes when their master was ready.

“Yes it has my love,” Ilaina said softly, looking over to him. “We have explored all of the Outlands, and all of Azeroth. Battled the Alliance and countless terrors beside them. Now I wonder where to next.” She snuggled close to him, a smile on her face.

The flapping of leathery wings echoed to them and an orc riding on wyvern back flew close to them, a letter gripped in hand. “Dark Lord Sircis, Archbishop Ilaina! A message from Sylvanas!” He called, flying close and passing it to Sircis before giving a salute and taking off.

“What’s it say dear?” Ilaina asked as he read it, leaning up to try and get a look at the letter.

“We’re going to Northrend and leading our own battalion, the 709th, we’re to leave for the Undercity immediately.” He said calmly, crumpling the letter. “We never get a break.”

“No, but maybe one day.” She said softly, rising and walking over to her mount.

“Yes, one day.” He said, climbing on his drake while the demons divvied up between the two drakes and climbing on to take off for Shattrath. “One day,” he whispered thoughtfully in flight.