Revenge of the Society

Disclaimer: All references to Players actions, real or Imaginary, are soley for the purpose of entertainment and must not be assumed as actual actions. Artistic License has been applied.

This is the Story I wrote for Blizzards Writing competition. It is in no way canon.

~~~

With a crash a stream of dark blue lightning snaked its way across the pitch black sky, rainclouds pouring their soaking payload upon the raging waters of Lordamere Lake. The huge waves smashed against the cliffs, rocking the small rowing boat from where it was moored, the violence of the movement almost causing the thick rope to snap and the boat to get smashed against the rocks. If it wasn't for the constant muttering by the boats only living inhabitant, the lake would have claimed it long ago. Struggling to keep his balance in the rocking vessel, the Human Paladin was wrapping a body up in white sheets, now struggling with the ropes that would tie the corpse's makeshift shroud up, the countless distractions and the heavy rain causing an ordinarily simple task to take hours. The body had been Decapitated, which only added to the difficulty, the head having rolled out of the sheet twice now, the human almost toppling overboard in an attempt to prevent it falling in the water. Cursing his religion under his breath, an act that requited of him a prayer of forgiveness, he finally tied the last knot, the body now completely wrapped up in soaking burial shrouds. Grunting as he bowed to pick it up he slipped, grabbing an oar to prevent him tumbling into the water. Quickly throwing out another Prayer, he steadied himself and again grabbed the body. Heaving it to the side of the boat he grabbed the corpse, and with a prayer for strength, lifted it up, and turned to face the churning waters around him. Crying out the final burial rites, he bent forwards, about to throw the Corpse. As this moment the waters surrounding the boat broke, five figures leaping out at the Paladin.

Stepping back in surprise the Man dropped the Corpse, the body bag falling back into the boat, as he stuttered a startled prayer, a protective shield of light materialising around him, just in time to deflect the first stab from the Forsaken rogues. Grabbing his shield and mace, the Paladin swung out with his shield, aiming at the First rogue, who nimbly dodged the blow with the utmost of ease. The small boat barely held the six of them, giving little room for movement, but the Rogues dodged each swing with perfect co-ordination, the mace falling through thin air. A flash of lightning illuminated the Faces of his attackers, each were wearing a Woollen red Bandanna, similar to those worn by the Rogues who had plagued Westfall a few years back. On their cheeks a spiked wheel had been cut into their skin, the Mark of the Thorn. As the light died again, the ambushers were shrouded in shadow again, and the Paladins protective shield faded. A violent wave threw the boat against the cliffs, the magically constructed wood withstanding the impact, but the rope failed to hold as the reactional wave pulled the boat away from the cliffs. Pulled out into the open waters, the Paladin took the chance to swing at the feet of one of the Rogues, who jumped to avoid the swing. Reacting quickly the Paladin smashed his shield into the Rogues chest, throwing him out into the waters where he plunged, the splash barely audible over the thunder of the rain. Jumping into his place, back to the water, the Paladin took a defensive stance, Looking at the shadows that represented his four remaining attackers. Smiling to himself, in a mixture of confidence and faith, he began a lengthy prayer, blocking a synchronised swing from the Rogues on either side with both his shield and his mace. Finishing his Prayer, he swung his mace, the metal hammer at the end glowing with powerful holy energy, radiating light across the boat. Throwing it at the Rogue opposite him he struck the Forsaken in the chest, the spike at the end burying itself in his chest, the bright glow illuminating the face of the Rogue next to him, the light showing him to be the only non-Forsaken attacker. He was a Sin'Dorai with hair spiked back, the same Red bandanna and wheel tatoo as the others. The light slowly faded, and the three remaining rogues turned their attention back to the Paladin, as their companion toppled backwards, disintegrating as he fell, his ashes scattering over the lake. With a Lurch the boat creaked painfully, the magically joined wood beginning to fail, as the waves brought it crashing up and down. Drawing a dagger the Paladin readied himself for attack, and the two Forsaken rogues both lunged at him, the Human moving with speed that could only have been granted from the light. Crying out a quick prayer one Rogue was stunned, the other's blows blocked by the shield, and a swing at the paladins side foiled by his plate armour. Using the failed swing to his advantage, the Paladin stabbed down, his dagger slicing down the length of the Rogues face, splitting his mask, as the Forsaken stumbled back and toppled into the raging water. With an instinctive yelp of pain the Paladin felt cold steel driving into his back, muscles spasming in pain as the last forsaken drove his dagger into his back, finding a kink in his armour. Swinging around the Paladin smashed the shield into the Rogues face, the sheer impact smashing the shield of wood and steel, cracking the Forsakens skull, the body and part of his shield tumbling into the water. Ripping the remaining pieces off his arm, the bone likely broken from the impact, the Paladin tucked his wounded arm protectively into his chest and turned to face the Sin’Dorai who was crouching on the lip of the boat, looking at him, daggers hidden within his shadowy crouched figure. His demonic green eyes shone out in the darkness, their taint clashing with the pure glow of the Paladin. Leaping at the Human, using surprise as a weapon, the elf made a twin attack, a knife driving each way, the Paladin moving his own Dagger to parry the blow to his left, but the right hand dagger plunged into his already heavily wounded arm. Crying out in pain, uttering a hasty prayer to keep him going, the Human retaliated with a swing at the Elf, his dagger narrowly missing his face but his gauntlet smashing into his face, knocking him the length of the boat, the elf slumping at the bow of the craft. Dropping his dagger the Paladin lunged at the Corpse that still lay in the boat, its white sheets blood stained, and, with a grunt of pain and exaustion, lifted him above his head, despite his crippling injury. Lightning snaking across the sky as he cried out in defiance of the Horde, "Ashes to Ashes, I commit you to the waters of the earth where you will remain for all Eternity! Your Soul is with the Light now! May you be damned for the crimes you have committed against the Living! WE HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN!" Roaring the final Words the Paladin cast the Body into the churning waters, as the Elf, who had scrambled to his feet ran the length of the boat, and, pushing the wounded paladin aside, dived into the cold waters.

The murky water swallowed the Elf like a stone, as he plunged into the depths, a mouthful of air the only thing between him and a watery grave. Quickly starting a steady stroke he pulled himself further and further down, the white corpse showing little more than a shadow in the dark waters. Already cold and wet from having swum up to the boat, the Elf could ignore the biting cold, but as he got deeper and deeper the rolling waves above him pushed him further and further from his target, his muscles beginning to ache from the strain of keeping up with the corpse. Gradually, as it sunk deeper and deeper he closed up the gap until eventually he caught the body and, grabbing it with both arms, twisted in the water and pushed up towards the surface. The familiar stabbing pain began to erupt in his chest as he ran out of air, but ignoring it he kicked harder, a small glimmer of light showing the surface. As he swam, the light began to fade, his vision blurring from the lack of air and the waters of the lake staining his eyes. Finally breaking the surface he took a massive breath, and looked around. The rain had slowed, the storm moving south towards hillsbrad. The boat had also gone, but he had got the target. Throwing the body over his shoulder he began swimming to the shore.

~~~

Bursting through the double doors Grand Apothecary Cain Herat-Baker strode out of the throne room and into a corridor that headed into one of the deeper crypts below the city. He was the new Grand Apothecary, having only just got the gig after the murder of his Mentor Putress at the hands of the Alliance just yesterday, the icing on the cake after the whole coup de grace spearheaded by Varathamas. Their reveal at the wrathgate had also been highly unsuccessful, not only had the blight been uncompleted, contrary to the belief by Putress that it was finished, but the Red dragons had destroyed the gas before it could spread, taking out all the Society's plague catapults in the process, a loss the Chief Implanter Master Apothecary Brightflame was inconsolable over. Any experienced Apothecary would tell you not to bother Master Apothecary Brightflame while she was in her famed Dwarven Rage, but a foolish Junior apothecary had the nerve to let word slip of her kin and worse, her old home in Khaz modan. She had locked herself in their Private quarters, and by the sounds of it was in the process of destroying a lot of sensitive equipment, and had dragged the Junior Apothecary with her. A small group of Apothecary Testers had begun bets on how many pieces they would find him in, if his remains got out at all. But the Society had taken enough losses recently, and, with rumour spreading that Sylvanas would dissolve them, tensions were high. And then the Mistress had called this meeting, now of all times. The Mistress, dispite her reputation, could be trusted, as could the Thorns, despite the odd living in their ranks. She led the forsaken council, where Putress had sat. Now it was Cain’s position to take up his seat, alongside their Ambassador, High Apothecary Doctor Haluthious Von Outen. Ah Haluthious, what a man, what a mind. Few across the known world didn't know of his name, and his title, "The Good Doctor" they called him. Mastermind behind several of their more profitable deals, he was the glue that held the council together, the Bickering between the Thorns and the Society just added to by the Shadow Priests and Deathstalker presence, Even the Dark Rangers had a representative, even though she very rarely turned up, the girl kept busy by her duties and her Thorn links. Entering the meeting room he paused at the door, the several heads already around the table turning to acknowlage his presence. His hood was down, and he wore the the Tabard of the Undercity. Clad in black robes consealing ornamental armour, he was wearing a belt with several usefull items strapped to it; Several Blight bombs for defence, a few vials, a teapot and a teacup. Inside his Tabbard were several pockets containing usefull raw ingredients and a variety of vials. He carried a chipped sword, in a broken scabbard at his belt. Approaching his seat he noticed the Doctors absence, but sat regardless. Stretching his legs under the table, his plate boots caught the leg of the Girl sitting opposite. She was the Dark Ranger Representative, a nervous girl and a Thorn named Lemayas. She had shown up for once. Grinning at her he turned and looked at the Thorn mistress, who stood at the head of the table, arms streched out resting on the table.
“Ah Cain… Glad you could grace us with your Pressence. Putress was never Late.”

“I trust you not to speak Ill of my mentor Mistress, and I won’t yours. Please, don’t let me interupt.”

“I would never speak Ill of Putress Cain… he was a good Forsaken… It’s a shame his passing will delay our plans so much. Nonetheless, he did his duty and Joined Varathamas, and that is the Dark Lady’s buisness. All we must do is endure.”

Around the table there were a few nods of agreement, but they quietened down to a cough from the Mistress.

“Moving on from respecting the deseaced, we have the matter over the recent coup to disguss. As you know Varathamas was killed in the uprising, but several demons are still scattered in the crypts. To make it worce Thrall has been sticking his nose in, because of the Society’s apparent involvement in the Coup, and because of their careless attack at the Wrathgate, the rest of the Horde no longer trust us. Kharn has been nosing around for a while now, and the Elfs have noticed us, Doctor Haluthious is talking to both Magyk Sunwing and Ilisara right now, and as usual the Magistairs are not pleased they were not informed. Needless to say they are scared, and want to feel safe again. That is why the Kor’Kron have been sent into the Undercity to keep a watch over us and the Society.”

Standing suddenly up, Cain curced out a few chosen words of defiance and anger, heads around the table snapping around to look at him. Breathing deeply he looked around, before sitting down again, irritated. Pausing for a second the Mistress continued.

“As I was saying… The Kor’Kron have decided to step in and take over the Undercity. Under Thralls Orders the Throne room will be watched at all times and so will the Apothecarium… Sorry Cain. Only the Undercity will be watched, so for this reason the Vile Thorn will relocate to new Agamand, it brings us closer to our conflict with the Lich King, and is out of the way. I trust you can continue your work in secret Cain? Good. Moving on-”

Suddenly interupted, the double doors at the end of the chamber burst violently open, and a troup of Forsaken marched in, led by a Spikey haired Elf, complete with Red bandana and Thorn Scar. The Forsaken following him all also wore the same bandana, but they carried a stretcher on their shoulders, A Body lain on it wrapped in white cloth. As they entered most of the occupants around the table jumped up, spinning to grab weapons at the sudden intrusion. Only the Mistress and Lemayas stayed calm, dispite Lemayas breathing deeply and nervously. Backing away from their seats the Troup of Thorns marched up to the table, raising the Body over it, before respectfully laying it down in the center. Stepping back they Saluted it before returning to the Door. The Elf repained put, looking at the Mistress.

“Ah Arli, I trust your mission was a success?” The Mistress stated, smiling sweetly, as the Elf Saluted. “Return to Brill, and have a drink on me. That goes to all of you. Dismissed.”

Lingering for a moment, the Elf looked at Cain, before turning and leaving. The Doors closed silently behind him, as the Council returned to their seats. Only Cain and the Mistress remained standing, both looking at the Body. Slowly, his face solumn and grave he reached over to the head of the Corpce, threw open the Shroud. As it opened he looked at the body briefly, closing his eyes and bowing his head in respect. Upon the table, his bloodied robes torn and damp, lay his Mentor and old friend. Silence held around the council as Cain leaned over, his hand grasping the Crow mask that covered the Corpse’s face. Slipping it out from under the hood, revealing a simple skull, the strands of necromancy all but gone, Cain touched its forehead with his claw. Then, flipping the shroud back over the bodies face, Cain raised the mask to his forehead and, raising his hood, clipped it onto his face.

“Continue, Mistress” Cain said in a monotonus voice, slowly sitting down. “Let this matter not disrupt our meeting.”

Nodding to Cain, the Mistress continued talking, but Cain’s mind was elcewhere. Staring through the thin eyeholes of the mask, he had only one thought on his mind.

Revenge.

Great story, loved the detail
Lets see more!

I love it - obviously! You captured the personalities really well and made Arli look cool - no mean feat

But yeah, great story Cain and thanks for publishing it here.

Fantastic! And I get a passing mention to boot

Having taken a look at the second half I found it to long to do all at once, so I've split it into two bits. Here is the first.


Part 2:

Huddled up in the corner of his Cage the man sat, his legs hunched up against his chest, his breathing weak from hunger and his hair hanging long off his shoulders. He had been in the cell years, the only company being a few other humans who appeared magically without warning, before being dragged off for whatever foul experiments the Dead requited of them. His cell was simple, but large enough to walk in, yet unlike the others it had a pipe in the back, wide enough to fit three people through, rushing water shooting down from above with frightening speed. However the glass front of the pipe was way to thick to break, however that didn’t stop many prisoners beating at it untill their fists bled. Unfortunately, he knew that was no viable way out.
Years had gone since he had been captured in Tirisfal, but yet he had survived. He would never forget the day, but even that days signifigance was dwarfed by the Horror of the day he went up.
He had been grabbed by a hooded man wearing a robe with green patterns along the bottom. The mans features were hidden by a mask but he could tell from his skinniness that this ‘man’ had died long ago. He was dragged up a flight of stairs and into a corridor, before being pulled yelling into a huge room. The Room, the chamber, was several stories high, and was large enough to hold two royal banquets at once, but the entire floor was covered in desks, some with humans, dwarfs, gnomes, even orcs and trolls, strapped to their rough wooden surface. And as one, they were all screaming, as they were cut into and poisoned by the Undeads foul tools. But the screaming wasn’t the most frigntening and spine chilling feature of the room. For in the centre was a huge pit, large enough for a Dragon to fly down with room to move, and above it a massive mashine was suspended. Never before had he seen anything so frightening and sinister, and yet the mashine gave him a purpose to survive – he had to warn the Alliance. Even the Horde had to hear of this… Monstrocity. The image of the machine spinning in his head, he had blacked out. He awoke back in his Cell, with a few new scars but otherwise completely unharmed.
It was impossible to tell night from day in the Cell, the only light a dim glow from the lighting upstairs that flowed through the pipe, causing it to shine eerily. The man had long since lost the strength to call upon the light, having used it for the first few days to see and tend the wounds of the injured who materialiced in the cell. Yet tonight was different, he could hear cracks of lightning, and the light from the pipe was flashing between blue and green, after long periods of simple blackness. Whatever that machine was, someone had turned it on. Lifting his head from his knees, he watched the flashes, mesmorised by their beauty and villanry. But it was so pretty, so attractive… He was snapped out of his trance, by a deafening explosion followed by a small smash, causing him to jump up, startled. He was further unnerved as a shadow shot down through the pipe, a small ball, something. As he stared, a thin thread snaked down from the ceiling, a tiny crack in the pipe. Gasping in disbelief he ran up to it and ran a fingernail along it, tracing its path a few inches down the pipe from its top. Clenching his hand into a fist he punched it, the crack spreading slightly. Again he punched, the impact causing his knuckles to start bleeding, but such a deterence was immediately ignored. Again, and again his fist smashed into glass, untill, what seemed like hours later, the glass began to groan. Taking a step back he watched the cracks snake across the pipe untill finally, the glass gave way to a wall of water.
The initial impact caught the Man off guard, throwing him back into the bars of the cage, knocking his head and arms hard against the iron. The flood of water was unrelenting, gushing out in its gallons, as the man gasped for air. Slowly the stream ground to a stop, the current slowing and the water level dropping to around his ancles. Groans from the darkness around the room told him the situation was the same, but he had no time to help anyone. Struggling to the newly made hole in the floor, water still streaming out the ceiling, he took a deep breath and plunged into the torrent.

The sheer cold knocked most of the mans breath out of him, as he went shooting down the pipe, tumbling endlessly in the confines of the tube. Suddenly the pipe smashed him against the side, and again, the tube turning untill it was running horrizontaly, but the current still pushed him along, his chest stinging from the pang for air. Again the pipe curved, possibly upwards, he could no longer tell, but the pipe kept moving. Turning again, then again, he plunged into a large pool of water, the same sticky water he had just been in. Kicking, with some effort, up to the surface, he gasped for air, before the current pulled him under again, forcing him to swallow some of the foul tasing liquid. Pulled towards one of the pipes that lined the end of the small sewer, he got dragged in, and onto another flume ride, his eyes tightly shut and his mouth clamped closed. Finally, after what seemed like hours of being thrown around, the Man washed up, alive but unconcious upon the shores of Lordamere lake.

~~~

“I don’t care how you do it, I want The Great Bull working!” Cain shouted at the High Apothecary, who bowed and jogged off to continute work. Turning, Cain strode down the Corridor, pondering. With Brightflames’ dissapearence, as well as the escape of a prisoner and flooding of the entire Cell block, things hadn’t been going well. But Brightflames’ work on the Great Bull had pulled it close to Operational, and if that Prisoner told anyone what was happening down there… It was game over. The Race had begun. And they were going to win. They had spent years perfecting blight, digging the tunnels and building the Great Bull, but now they could distribute the plague vapors to the Entire of Azeroth without even leaving the Apothecarium. The Perfect Plan. If only Putress had been alive to see it come to Futrition. Removing his mask he poked one of his eyes, which were actually miniscule Mana Citerens. While not entirely special in looks, not only did the preacious gems alow him to see but they were also the source of his power. Crafted by his late wife, the most Powerfull Mage in Lordearon in her time, the jewels gifted him with her entire arsenal of Spells, while she slept unharmed in their crypt. He had slept too long, untouched by rot or time, preserved by the very same curse that killed him. Closing his eyes he lameted those times, remembering how the curse effected his soul. Opeining his eyes again he looked solemly at his claws, the sharp bones taken from a bear and surgically implanted onto his knuckles. His Soul claimed any viable replacement for limbs or fingers, keeping him alive. He was no Ordinary Forsaken. He felt Pain. He felt hunger. But he lived.

He was Immortal.

~~~


“Wot ‘Ave we ‘ere?”
The Troll bent down and poked the Body, washed up on the Shores of Lordamere lake. His companion, an Orc stood by, axe at the ready for any Dalaran Wizzards who got too close.
“Dunno, probably just some fool who drowned. Lets get moving, I don’t like these Forsaken Lands. Just finish our Scouting mission and lets teleport back to Fray Island.”

The Orc was interupted by a spluttering, as the Human came to, his eyes opening weakly, to the sight of a spear pressed against his nose.

“You not be tryin’ ta git away now will ya be mon?”

“No… I have something Important to… say!” The Human spluttered back in broken Orcish. “The Dead are planning something sinister”

“Lower your weapon… Lets here what he has to say before we get some blood on our hands” The Orc ordered, leaning in to listen as the Human explained what he knew. The Orcs face dropped from a grin to a gobsmacked silence. Finally, he came to his sences and Barked an Order.

“Git A Portal Up, Kharn needs to hear about this. Ya better not by Lying Pinky.
Ya Better be telling Skulleater what you know.”

-

“They are doing what? Oh that dead Bastard… Thank you Human for telling us this. Eillie, Thas, go and rally the Warband. We need to stop Cain before its to late.”
The Tauren Girl and the Elf bowed and strode out the room, as the Huge Tauren turned to look at the fire.
“I knew there was something wrong with him. But to do this… after all he has done for us. I wonder if Anethrax was in on this. It truly is a shame.” Turning again, to the Marauders left in the room, Kharn gave his Orders.
“Go find who you can. Fetch Lord Sunwing, Lord Sunwhisper, Lady Ilisara and her Mages. Summon whoever you can, we need to stop whatever sinister plot is going on in the Undercity. And move in Stealth, we can’t have Cain finding out we know what he’s doing. As the last Marauders left the room, Kharn sat down heavily on a bench. Staring sadly at the dancing flames, he spoke softly, to no-one in particular.
“What have you done old friend? What have you done?”

~~~

Stealth had been used in no excess, the Entire Warband of The Shatterskull Marauders, as well as a good deal of Elven soldiers and mages sent by Magyk and Ilisara had manuvered to the enterence of the sewers, the nearby guard tower sacked and applied as a bace of operations. Kharn sat astride his War Kodo, rapier at his belt, surveying the enterance to the Sewers. If they were lucky, they could get to the Apothecarium without a fight. Somehow they would then find the enterance to the ‘Lower Apothecarium’ The Human had talked about, and from there Free the Prisoners and Destroy the Machine. Once they attacked the Apothecarium, the Kor’Krons would hopefully help them. From then… Kharns train of thought was interupted by one of his scouts running out the Tunnels, apparently being chased by some sort of Coffin. Squinting, he inspected the wooden box with a curious eye half closed, the contraption was being dragged by some sort of Rat pack. The Coffin however was dripping something green…
With a yelp, the Warchief gave the order to split, the Warband ducking and jumping out the way as an Imp materialised and fired a single fireball at the Coffin. With a bang the Wooden box shot off, shooting just over the heads of the warband, before smashing into the Guard tower in an explosion of green smoke and red fire, the solid stone walls crumbling from the impact and the blast, as they came tumbling down on the Tactitians in the Tower. As Kharn recovered from the blast, there was a flash and a light bang as Doctor Haluthious Materialised at the enterence to the sewers. Regarding the Marauders with a cold grin, He raised his arms, his palms oppen innosently and spoke softly, “Kharn, Marauders… Friends. Welcome to the Undercity. Such a shame you come in such Force, I doubt we have tea and biscuits for all of you. The Dark Lady Sylvanas is not at home, so please, hold on.”
“Doctor! We have come to end your Reign of Terror! Never again shall the Horde be attacked, held Prisoner and Tortured by its supposed Allies! Surrender and your… un-lives will be spared!”
Grinning widly, Haluthious looked across the ranks, calculating their strength. Raising a hand to his cheek, he pulled a thread, his grin growing ever wider.
“Please, Kharn, I have no Idea what your talking about. Maybye if you were to explain your actions…”
“Save it Doctor!” Kharn replied, and next to him, astride a barded charger, the Human rode up, from the ranks of the Horde. “Sythbo here has told us everything. And We are taking the undercity by force.”
With that, the thread holding Haluthious’ grin up snapped, the twanging noice produced echoing across the entire army. All eyes were on him as his grin suddenly dropped, the sides of his mouth curving down, teeth gritted.
“So be it.”
Turning, his Grin all but gone, Haluthious took a step into the Sewers before pausing, to say two more words.
“Kill them.”

~~~

The Warband, scattered across the hillside after ducking for cover from the Coffin-Rocket, froze in their recovery to the sound of a steady beat, each boom coming from deep in the tunnels. A light began to grow, silouetting a huge figure, arms raising and lowering consistently. As the beat continued, the shadow grew, as an Abomination lumbered into view, a pair of war drums strapped around his shoulders, to which he was beating regularly. Slowly, above the beat came a screeching sound, a chattering noice slowly rising in tempo, but the source was yet invisible. As the screeching overcame the sound of drums, the tunnels darkened, the light source disapearing. Squinting, Kharn saw movement in the walls, floor and ceiling of the sewers, glints of metal and swift movement. As he squinted further, his eyes widened in realisation as an Elf in the midst of the army yelled in fear
“Geists!”
With a deafening chattering noise the swarm of geists lept out into the light, leaming from all surfaces of the sewers, as a bolt of fire shot down from above, the bolt landing in the swarm and exploding, sending the creatures flying. Looking up at the source, Kharn saw Magyk and Ilisara upon golden disks, which were floating above the army, each of them summoning fire out of thin air, casting it down upon the swarm. Yet nonetheless the army of creatures, some of the more nimble landing in the midst of the ranks to shouts of panic and hasty war cries being thrown out at them, yet the majority smashed into the warband from the Front. Jumping into action the front line raised their shield a second to late, some geists charging into the midst of the army, leaping on healers and mages ripping holes out of their ranks. Raising his rapier Kharn charged forwards, the front line moving with him while forming a wedge, as they swung at the small creatures, who jumped onto the Taurens bodies as they moved. Sith a swing Kharn decapatated one of the creatures, stabing another through the eye, as another jumped on his back. Trying to reach around to pull it off the Warchief couldn’t quite reach, as the battle line moved forward without him, but as the creature began stabbing him he felt the weight disapear with a screech as an arrow peirced its head and the creature tumbled off his back. Turning to try and spot his rescuer, Kharn simple saw the Horde that was following him. Bolstered by this trust and loyalty, Kharn turned forwards and with a Cry continued moving forward. Back at the enterance to the sewers Ilisara and Magyk had flown up to either side of the enterance and begun chanting, protected by a shimmering magical shield each had cast up around themselves. As the warband moved forwards, the pair of Elfs completed their spell, casting up before the opening to the sewers a massive wall fo fire, that sealed the tunnel off, to the screeches of geists who, carried by their own momentum, smashed theough the wall, igniting in the process and raining down upon their own ranks. With this intervention the Warband moved forwards, pinning and slaying the rest of the geists. As the last creature died, Kharn stopped fighting to Evaluate their losses. As he looked at his warband his mouth fell open in disbelief, the Geists that had broken his line had done devastating damage to the softer core, with over half the Warband either dead or Dying. The Battle line had encountered a few casualties as well, some of the strongest fighters had fallen in the initial charge. Resting on a nearby branch, Kharn Gathered his strength before stanging up tall. Clearing his throat, facing the Warband before him he prepared to speak, but his first word was drowned out by a loud booming sound. Slowly, he turned, as the drum sounded again, right on the other side of the fire wall, Magyk and Ilisara struggling to keep the flaming barricade up. Again, the drums sounded, the steady booming sound, the source hidden behind the wall. Before Kharns startled eyes, a spot at about head height on the wall flashed blue, the fire frezing before his very eyes. As the frost spread, Ilisara and Magyk dropped the wall from sheer exaustion, their flying disks falling out the sky as they lost the power to maintain them. As the edges flickered and disapeared the frozen centre smashed as four huge abominations lumbered right into the disorientated battle lines.

Certainly nice, but I assume you mean Ilsinea with Illisara right? Because Illisara isn't magical. Also Magyk and Illisara don't get along.

The spelling is so Similar! Foprgive me if I got that wrong once or twice

Now this was a tricky bit, I felt this battle needed to be epic, and to truly reflect those involved. Holefully the Four Main Combatants are happy with this, as so far this is one of my favourite bits.

-

Kharn had barely turned his Kodo when the Abomination crashed into him, the beast tipping his mount over, throwing the Warchief off its saddle and into the dirt. Making a grab for his rapier, he felt its absence at his belt, the Abomination looming over him. Rolling over, the chain landed in the exact spot Kharn had been lying in a second ago, as he scrambled along in the mud, the chain swinging just over his head. Rolling onto his back, he looked at the abomination as it made another swing, this time leaping to his feet and forwards, under the arc of the chain. His Kodo was struggling in the mud, as the abomination reached for an axe and plunched it into the beasts side, which wailed, before using the handle as a handhold for climbing onto the squirming Kodo’s back, looking down on the helpless warchief. As the Tauren looked around for a weapon, the Abomination jumped, plunging down upon the warchief. Without time to think, Kharn lept out of the way, his hooves barely escaping the crush as the abomination landed, making a sizable crater in the mud. However the hand that was sewn to the abominations back made a grab at Kharn, the smaller fist closing around his leg, dragging him back. The Abomination clambered to his feet, and grabbed his Axe out of the Kodo’s back, before twisting his head to try to spot Kharn. Looking around, the abomination raised his axe, and with a grunt, swung it round to his back, in a deadly swing at the Warchief. The Heavy blade of the Axe plunged into flesh, to the sound of a low pitched wail.
Kharn was clinging onto the Abominations back hand, as the Axe had passed safely under him, hitting the undead monstrocity instead of the smaller Target. With a grunt, the abomination swayed then collapced, smashing right into the body of the squealing kodo. Both beasts died within seconds. Climbing shakily to his feet, sweat covering his brow, Kharn picked a large bastard sword off the ground, and looked for the other three Abominations. He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Voxigah heroicly tackle the last creature, goring it with his horns. Rallying the warband, he prepared to travel into the sewers.

~~~


“Grandfather, you’ve outdone yourself again.”
Helping Magyk to his feet, Xondra dusted his robes off, her Fiancé Jaelen standing a few feet behind, and Senithas supporting the weakened Ilsinea under her arm. The disks had been lent against the rockface, and behind them Magyk could see the Warband forming ranks, Kharn pacing up and down, inspecting them and giving orders. The sun was low in the sky, and it was dusk, the air cool and refreshing. Sitting on a rock, Magyk sighed.
“I don’t trust that Tauren with this plan. If we hadn’t interfened we would all be dead by now. The best way in is to send a small strike force inside to set up a Portal Beacon, then we can get the Army in silently and sweetly. No more blood shed.
“Grandfather, you know the risks, the Kirin Tor would-”
“Silence child. Don’t question me.”
Xondra looked at Magyk coldly, staring at him to stop her eyes watering.
“Shut up Grandfather, this is exactly why your not King!”
Turning, Xondra stormed off, Jaelen following her, who threw an arm around her to try and comfort her. Magyk stared after them, mouth slightly ajar, before turning to Ilsinea and Senithas.
“Kharn will take ages briefing the Warband. We can get in and out by then.”
Silently, the trio slipped into the sewers as the blackness swalowed them up.


~~~

With a few hushed words, a shroud of darkness surrounded the Trio, as they faded into invisiblity, passing unhindered by the Forsaken Apothecaries and Abominations setting up defences. Slipping down the tunnel in silence, they advoided the green slime that ran down the middle of the chamber, stepping over the streams that ran through the rock trickling into the main stream. They dropped invisibility as they reached stonework, nearby a small green pool, leading into a catacomb of corridors that led down into the Undercity. Creeping along those winding passages the Group turned corner after corner, each passage looking like the last. After turning into another dead end, Senithas slumped down, with a groan and a sigh.
“How many more turns must we make? This passage looks like the last twenty.”
“I concour. I say we place the beacon at the next open space we find, get a few scouts in here and help.”
“How many can you do Ilsinea?”
“I reckon I have the power to do two beacons, if the first I place is only designed to hold long enough for ten people to get through. Maybye fifteen.”
“Alright. Lets find an ‘open space,’ its better than sitting around here doing nothing.”
Climbing to his feet, Senithas rested on the wall, before pushing off and continuing down the tunnel.

-

“We haven’t gone anywhere!”
Looking down at the greenish pool, Ilsinea looked disapointed at their lack of progress.
The Trio were standing on a ledge that opened as a huge pipe, leading somewhere up in the high walls of the Apothecarium. Far below them was the green pool, and the enterance to the catacombs that had held them for the past half an hour.
“Look, its good enough. Lay the beacon, and we’ll get Arli through. He should be able to find his way around, he knows this city well enough.”
“Yes Magistair.”
Pulling out a small gnomish device, Magyk spoke briefly into it, requesting his Granddaughter to get her fiancé to open a Portal locked onto their beacon. He also informed her to fetch Arli, and maybye a few more important individuals. As he was speaking, Ilsinea closed her eyes, meditating while chanting lightly. As Senithas pulled out a stave and plunged it into the ground, tendrils of red magic, sparking like lightning snaked out of the ground and up the Stave, exploding at the top in a bright red glow. As the intencity of the glow grew, an arcane beam shot out, as a small hole in the fabric of time materialiced, the hole struggling without the assistance of a certified ley line.

“My –friends- to whom do I grace this precence?”
Spinning around, the three grabbed for weapons, to the sight of Doctor Haluthious standing a few feet away, grinning.
“Doctor! Give up, you’re outnumbered and unarmed. Surrender now and you may still-”
“Please, -Magister- save it. You have abused us too many times” the Doctor said grinning as he spread his arms, “Now it is time for you to die.”
With a flash and a smell of strong incence, a hilt appeared in each of the Doctors hands, A short rod of thick cold stone. Shadow energy began gathering around the ends, and slowly, inch by inch, the energy concentrated itself, spreading and growing out, into two huge sickles, curving down into an almost complete circle. Swinging them the Doctor readied himself, as the Mages raised their own weapons.

Steel hit steel as Magyk swung his sword down, the sicles curving around it and throwing it aside, following with a retaliation that the Grand Magistair barely dodged. Without looking Haluthious deflected a swing from Senithas, who had swung behind him, before ducking to a swing from Ilisara. Raising his foot he kicked backwards, knocking Senithas sprawling, nimbly jumping backwards, his footwork always one step ahead of the three mages. A fireball, that had been hurridly created and shot was simply caught by the sickle, the bolt hovering in the centre, before being fired back at its creator, which barely deflected it with a hurried word. The fight drew closer and closer to the ledge, the Trio barely keeping up with the Doctors swift cruel movements, contantly having to parry a flurry of attacks, while he managed to deflect each of their blows, which were getting more and more frantic, without breaking a sweat. As the Portal grew in size, still closed, Haluthious ducked another swing, before deflecting a sword that was aimed for his neck. Still his grin stayed, almost growing wider as the fight went on. Suddenly, without tell or warning he kicked out, his foot meeting Ilsineas chest throwing her flying off the ledge, before plumeting a deathly distance.

With a cry, Senithas threw himself after her, desperately casting a spell in the process. His frantic words were mistaken and faulted, but fortunately the bacis of the spell worked and Ilsineas decent slowed, as a Golden disk materialiced under her. Repeating the Spell on himself, he steadied the platform, and holding his sword up, Raised, as Ilsinea came back to her sences and raised her own platform. Magyk, back on the Ledge had backed Haluthious against the edge, and was swinging harder and harder, his blade growing green with fel Energy. With a mighty arc, Magyk pushed Haluthious back, his foot stepping back to balance himself, off the edge, and into thin air.

Except it wasn’t thin air.

Reaching off the Ledge, a cloud of shadow and frost had formed, solidifying itself under Haluthious’ feet, providing him with a foothold, as Magyk, ittirated by this failure continued the dance, parrying and delivering attack after attack. At last, he caught his sword in Haluthious’ Sickle, and with a twist pulled it out of his grasp, as it, and Magyks’ sword, flew off the edge before landing in the pool far below, the steel disintegrating in the acidic substance. With a roar of annoyance Haluthious’ grin dropped with a snapping sound, raising his Sickle and letting it carve down at Magyk. Crying out, Ilsinea threw her sword at Magyk, who flailed for the weapon, sucessfully grabbing the blade and raising it, as the steel cut into his hand, but catching Haluthious’ Sickle. Grabbing the handle he pushed up, and the sword play continued. Senithus, recovered form his spells jumped onto the Platform behind Haluthious, raising his sword high ready for the kill.

Kicking Magyk, knocking the Magistair on his back, Haluthious spun around and drove his Sickle into Senithus’ ribs, the blade traveling right through the Elf, his arm still held high with the sword in it, a look of supprice in his eyes. Slowly, with Ilsinea’s scream echoing through the sewers, the blade dropped out of Senithus’ hand, falling into the green pool below the path of shadow and frost. In slow Motion Senithus fell, sickle still lodged in his body, toppling off the Platform, the Forsaken down the tunnel turning to look at the duel, alerted by Ilsineas scream. With a deafening splash he landed in the pool, the acidic substance creeping up his body, eating at his flesh, as he disintegrated, hand held high.

“No!” Magyk cried, jumping up, sword in hand, looking at Haluthious. In anger, Ilsinea Steered her Golden platform right into the Path behind Haluthious, jumping off as the golden disc vanished, fireballs forming at her hands.

“Magistair, Lady Fireleaf, you wouldn’t kill an –unarmed- man would you?” Haluthious said smoothly, his grin growing once more.

“You will be executed for your crimes against the Horde –Doctor!” Magyk cried, raising his sword.

“Well if that’s the case…” Haluthious cooed, positioning himself into an unarmed combat stance, as Magyk swung his Sword down, in a deadly curve aimed for Haluthious’ head. But the Blade never made contact with bone as, with the same acrid smell of Incense, a Stone handle materialiced in Haluthious’ hand, this time forming a long stave, with a slight curve to it, which blocked Magyk’s swing. Pushing back, Haluthious swung the stave around, a Scythe blade already formed at the end, deflecting Ilsinea’s fireballs. Swinging back behind him to deflect another of Magyks blows, the end of the stave the Scythe blade was on swiftly switched, the first end vanishing in a cloud of shadow, the second appearing just as fast. Taking a step back, a sword of fire shot into existance out of Ilsineas hand, who made a swing at Haluthious’ back, but the blade was already there, ready to block. Turing like a top, Haluthious blocked every swing the pair made at him, with a grin on his face that made him look like he was enjoying it.
“Grandfather?”
Xondra was standing at the end of the Shadow Bridge, having stepped out of the Portal that was fully open at the end. Startled, Magky looked up, and at that moment Haluthious attacked, pushing the end of the scythe into his chest, a spike materialicing at the end, driving through his stomach, shadow poking out the other side.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Looking up at the source of the sound, Haluthious missed a beat, as the flaming sword plunged through his back, burning through his body and Tabbard, the Tesla coil on it erupting in flame. Looking down at the sword, Haluthious’ eyes opened in shock, Ilsinea placing her hand on his back, as she pushed it in further. His hands shook as he reached into his robes, pulling out a small mechanical device. Ilsinea looked at it confuced, before her head slowly turned to the sides of the tunnel. For the first time, she noticed that the walls had been rigged with sephorium.

“You lose Fireleaf.”

As Haluthious spat the words out he pressed the Detonator, the Sewer walls exploding, the ball of fire consuming himself and Ilsinea, Grin still solid on his face. As the two of them burnt, the Shadow bridge disintegrated and their bodies fell down together into the Green pool of liquid as it evaporated, their bodies disapearing forever.

Fireleaf, Ilsinea Fireleaf is the name.

And I died.

Wow.. Hal went out with a big bang..
Well done Cain very nice story!!

A Short update, I feel it preps us for the next bit which I hope you will find as epic as I planned it. I've wanted to do a fight like this ever since I started writing this, but found it hard to find, even with them being on opposite sides of the war, a reason for them to fight.

--

Kharn, Arli, Jaelen, Voxigah and Thas managed to get through the Portal before it closed, Xondra having retreated back to mourn Magyk, Ilsinea and Senithus. The Sewers were cut off, they were alone.
“What now?”
Kharn was the first to speak, his face bruised and bloody from the earlier fight, a horn chipped down the middle. Everyone was solemn, they had endured horrific losses from what had originally seemed simple.
“Arli, any word from the Thorns?”
“None. The Comms have given me nothing but static since you contacted me. If the Mistress is with the Apothecaries though, I can’t do anything. I will not fight against her.”
The Elf stood solemnly looking away from the rest of the Expedition, looking down the pipe that opened out far above the streets of the undercity. The scar on his face, a wheel that he had carved into his skin himself out of pure loyalty darkened his image, shadows being thrown over his eyes, their green glow the only light on his face. His Red mask was strapped tightly to his mouth, muffling his voice as he glared.
“Sunblade, you know this city better than any of us. Can you find a way through the Catacombs?”
Without another word, Arli turned into the dark corridors and entered, the blackness swallowing him up. He knew exactly how to get through… but first he had to do something elce.
Slipping through the consealed door in the Rogues quarter, Arli Sunblade silently disarmed the alarms that would herald his arival in the Thorn Headquarters. Equaly silently, a small shadow followed him in.

“The Horde forces are moving to the ruins, the Lifts are shut down and trapped and we have plague canisters installed in the throne room.”
The unmistakable voice of the Mistress was heard, echoing through the chambers of the Thorn headquarters, the voice coming from the meeting room. Lining himself up to the double wooden doors, he took a deep breath and bending down, pushed them open with all his force.

The Mistress spun around, the image hovering above the long meeting table vanishing with a pop. The Forsaken woman, red mask over her face and tatoo covering the visable part of her facial features.
“Arli…”
“Mistress…”
Both Rogues said the others name in disbelief at exatly the same time, a look of horror on Arli’s face.
“How…”
“Arli, its not…”
“Save it Mistress. All these years you’ve been lying to us, you’ve been...”
“What I did I did for the good of the Thorns. My efforts have saved the lives of every living Thorn we have.” The Mistress’ voice was suddenly serious, as if the shock had worn off. “Now Deathmaster, stand down.”
“No. Mistress, I can’t let you do this.”
“I won’t fight you Arli.”
“And I won’t fight you.”
Silently, a shadow slipped into the room, the small creature clinging somehow to the walls as it climbed around the top of the door, sliding onto the ceiling where it clung above Arli, red eyes looking down on him.
Turning to leave, the wooden doors swung shut, a bolt sliding into place on the other side.
“I can’t let you leave Arli.”
“Mistress, listen to me”- Arli said, turning and looking at her again. “Thousands of people will die if”-
“It is the cause of my people Arli. I can’t turn my back on them.”
The shadow dropped to the floor just behind Arli and without hesitating the Elf span around, a blade already in his hand, driving it four inches into the Shadows chest.

Slowly, he registered the young girls shocked face, her Thorn mask around her neck, Arli’s knife sticking out of her chest. Letting go of the dagger Arli stepped back as Lemayas looked down at the deadly wound, Red eyes wide with fear and pain. Dropping to her knees, a tear rolled out of her eye as she looked up at the Horified Arli, who was looking from Lemayas to his empty hand where the dagger was and back. Reaching up, Lemayas touched the scar on Arli’s cheek, her cold hands lightly brushing his face, causing the wound to burn as the Magic began working. Finally Lemayas began to glow with Ethreal light as she threw back her head, Red eyes already brimming with Energy.

Kharn jumped to his feet, hands over ears, as the scream tore through the Undercity.

As I have said this 1v1 is a fight I wanted to Portray for a while but I found it hard to find a reason to provoke them into fighting. Its in a highly different format to the previous Epic Battle.

--

“Arli Sunblade you have turned your Blade on a Thorn. You have Broken Thorn law.”
“No- I”
“I’m Sorry Arli.” The Mistress said looking down.
Then there was silence. Neither party said anything, The Mistress standing at the head of the polished meeting table, Arli standing at the other, Lemayas’ body behind him. Turning slowly, his face solemn, Arli dropped to his knee, And picked Lemayas up, his Arms supporting her head, so her limp body was lying in his arms, her eyes still open, her Pupils blue once more. Slowly, Arli raised his hand to her head, and closed her eyes, his hands softly brushing her face as his Thorn mark began to turn red, burning into his Cheek.
“I find you guilty of breaking Thorn Law. By the Powers invested in me by the Original Thorn Master, I sentence you to Execution.”
Looking up, Arli saw the Mistress glaring at him, her blades in her hands, shadow cast over her face showing nothing but glowing yellow eyes, and the Red mask. Lying Lemayas back down on the floor, Arli stood, Glowing green eyes and Thorn mask the only visable features on his face. Silently, her feet in exact precision the Mistress lept onto the table and began running, sprinting the length of its wooden surface and lept on Arli, her Blades leading her. Lifting his weapons to deflect the stabs, The Arli took the attack as the mistress Glanced off and flipped over his head, swinging her legs around his neck and bracing herself on the closed door. Dropping his blades Arli’s hands shot to his neck and managed to wriggle out of the lock, dropping to the floor to grab his blades. Flat on the floor, yet still as nimble as on his feet Arli shot back under the Table as the Mistress dropped after him and sprung under the table as well. Swinging his feet under him in the restricted space Arli turned to face the Mistress, one hand bracing himself on the ground, the other deflecting a blow from the Mistress’ Knifes, which were both coming at him in a flurry of swings, each attack parried or Dodged by Arli’s nimble movements, yet slowly pushing him back. Rolling over, moving to the side, Arli switched arms, his first having got tired from supporting his weight as he made a swing of his own, which only met Saronite as the Mistress’ weapon was already in the way. Sliding back, out the other end of the table Arli lept up, spinning to guard the end, being the only way out.
“Give up Mistress, I have the high ground.” Arli said to the pair of Glowing yellow eyes hidden in the shadow of the table. The eyes blinked back then retracted into the darkness.
Pulling out a throwing knife Arli readied himself for the Mistress to emerge from the other side.
And waited.
Looking down, Arli looked down the length of the table, seeing clearly out the other side. Except for-
The shadow that was pressed to the side rolled out and dived, shooting out as Arli jumped back, tripping over his feet and falling flat on his back, the Mistress pinning herself to his chest, pinning him down with her knees as she raised her blades. Grunting in pain Arli wriggled, grabbing for his knife that lay a few feet away. Gripping the blade he swung it, the handle knocking into the Mistress’ skull as she swung, knocking her aim back as it passed a hairs breadth from his face to the sound of ripping cloth. The Mistress rolled off Arli as he got up, Red mask falling off his face as he gathered himself. Turning he took a step back, disorientated as he knocked into the table, going straight over backwards, his back lying against the wood, his feet dangling off the edge. Getting to her feet the Mistress looked at him, and grinned under her mask before lunging again. Rolling back onto the table, Arli got to his feet again, ready for another strike. Leaping up, the Mistress kicked off the table, going right over Arli’s head, Making a stab for his back. Spinning in time Arli deflected the blow, yet the Mistress was on the other side of him again making another swing at his back. Turning again he deflected the swing as the Mistress attacked again, Her blows getting harder and more accurate, as Arli backed off again, his footwork moving him down the table towards the door. Counteratacking Arli made an attack to the Mistress, as she parried it, as he made another, turning around, reducing the space between them as the width of the table pushed them together. As he rotated around her, The Burning scar on his cheek stabbed him with a shot of pain, causing him to miss his footwork and slip, toppling off the side of the table as The Mistress made an attack, taking advantage of the situation, her blades slashing his arm and face, red blood slipping out as his leathers tore to the keen edge of the Saronite knives. Twisting Arli dropped the Dagger in his hand, as he landed on the cut arm, a yell of pain echoing out of the Elfs dry throat, blood covering his face as the open wound that ran right through the centre of the Thorn wheel began weeping. Dropping her blades The Mistress Jumped off the other side of the table, looking sadly at the wall. Shakily, Arli climbed to his feet. His hands empty, both his blades lying on the floor in a small scattering of blood.
“Stand Down Deathmaster.”
“No.”
Sighing, The Mistress twisted, leaping onto the table, claws out as she dived on Arli who raised his arms to protect himself, ignoring the pain in his arm and cheek. The mistress slashed at Arli, but he swung his arm to defend himself, knocking the Mistress’ swing out of the way, retaliating with a punch of his own, making contact with her, but she just shrugged it off and made another punch, striking Arli’s weeping cheek. Spinning away in pain, Arli landed sprawled on the tabletop, recovering quickly and scrambling back to his feet to face the mistress, his fists held protectively on either side of his face. The Mistress was in a low stance, her feet wide and one arm holding her up, her other raised with claws outstreched. Arli ran at her and she swung back, her claws meeting leather and glancing off, Arli making a jab of his own, striking her arm as it retracted and she leapt to her feet out of the way from a second punch Arli made. Spinning in, closing the gap between them Arli made another Punch, meeting the Mistress’ chest as she returned, hitting him in the Groin. As he doubled over she Kneed him in the face, knocking him right over onto his back again. Stepping over him she punched down but by then he had recovered, and rolled out the way, her fist driving into the wooden table as he slipped through her legs and twisted, his foot kicking out and taking out her legs, knocking her over onto the floor. Unable to get up in time they both dived at each other and grappled, Gripping each other trying to wrestle the other off the table. As the mistress’ grip closed arounf Arli’s wounder Arm he winced in pain, giving her a chance to swing him down on his back, leaning over him and gripping his throat, his arms flailing helplessly. Reaching out, his fingers found the Mistress’ Dagger, his reaching fingers only just touching the hilt, as his arm spasm’d up and down, a stabbing in his chest as air ran out of his system. Reachign with all his strength his hand closed around the hilt and swinging upwards, aimed the blade at the mistress, who, noticing lept back her foot swinging under her and kicking up, making contact with Arli’s hand, the Blade flying up out of it, arcing up into the air.
Both of them Jumped up.
Both of them grabbed for the Dagger.
Both hands closed around the Hilt.
They both pressed together, pulling the Dagger in as the Saronite slipped right into one of their chests and out the other side.

“Anethrax…”

I died :-( I hoped for a bigger part

Luck it seems, is against our Brave adventurers. But with The Ambassador and The Mistress down, who is there left to defend the Apothecarium?

~~~

“He’s been an hour. We should move.”
Standing, Voxigah turned towards the door, his face still covered in blood from the earlier battle. Walking towards the opening into the Catacombs, a light limp in his step, the Tauren placed a hand on the Door frame, and turned to look at the others, who were climbing to their feet, grabbing weapons and slowly sliding them into sheaths and scabbards. Jealen, who had summoned a ball of fire to light the pipe drew the orb back into his hand, leaving a slight glow that danced off the walls, the pipe enshrouding in darkness again. As they heard a rumble of thunder outside, Vixigah turned to look into the Dark Pipe.
And two ruby eyes looked back.
Taking a shocked step back, Voxigah watched the eyes grow as they got closer, rising and dropping to the heavy step of the owner. Out of the darkness a hand reached, grabbing the doorframe for support, and he pulled himself into the shimering light, before collapsing into the pipe.
Leaping to his aid, Voxigah turned him over onto his back, and looked down into the Bright Red eyes of Arli Sunblade. The Thorn scar on his cheek had been slashed, but the insignia still glowed red, cuts and bruises on his face and body also leaked blood, as well as a large slash on his arm and a deep cut in his chest.
“Arli – what happened?”
Kharn loomed over the elf, concern in his eyes but he still held his Sword in his hand, prepared for anything unexpected. Coughing blood, Arli tried to pull himself into a slouching position, aided by Voxigah who was still supporting him.
“The Mistress… Is.. Is Dead. I can g-get you into t-the Lower Apothecarium.”
“Your eyes…”
“I b-broke Thorn Law. I’m… I’m c-cursed. I-I don’t have l-long to l-live.”
Jealen eyes Arli suspisiously, thoughts dancing through his mind. The wound wasn’t fatal, and he had never heard of such a curse before. And that stutter… His train of thought was broken by Thas who placed his hand on Jaelen’s shoulder, in an attempt to reasure him. Sighing Deeply, Jaelen shrugged Thas’ hand off, and, light in hand, walked into the Catacombs. The two Tauren picked Arli up, and followed him, Thas taking the vanguard.

“I-I think I can walk” The weakened elf said to the two Taurens helping him, his voice course and strained, as if he was struggling to keep it low and deep. Laying the weak elf down onto his feet Arli tried to get his footing before he stumbled and almost collapced, Voxigah diving in to catch him before his feet gave away underneath him. The Tunnel was dark, shadows dancing off the walls from Jaelens fireball, the only light source, and a slow drip… drip could be heard in the distance from a leaking wall or ceiling. Again The Tauren let Arli stand again, this time he stumbled and kept his footing, his red eyes giving a dark taint to the yellow light that was emited from the fireball. Slowly, unaided, Arli limped down the corridor into the darkness, the other sollowing sheepishly behind.


~~~

A flash of green electricity arced across the deeply carved ceiling, illuminating the demonic faces etched into the stonework. The buzz of the Tesla coil and the flash it produced illuminated the hardened faces of the Armoured Orcs stationed in the room, Casting shadows across their helmets and giving their eyes a demonic green taint before the light faded and another coil flashed into life. At the head of the room, down the short staircase and around various hard carved wooden tables stacked with sencitive equipment, a huge beast of an orc paced the room, his tabbard showing the colours of Orgrimmar and in his hand a large double bladed axe, clenched in his giant paw. The orc wasn’t wearing a helmet and his face was wrinkled with age, his beard tied up in a plait and he wore a bald patch on his head. But his age didn’t show weakness, it showed experience, battle hardened strength and stamina. As the troup of weakened Tauren and Elfs half limped into the room, he immediately stopped his pace and spun around, in a battle stance to inspect the intruders.
“Overseer Kraggosh! We are friends!”
The shout came from the Tauren leading, who waved at the Orc, his greeting only met with a glare.
“We have troubling news, the Forsaken have attacked the Horde and are planning to wipe out the living, join us and together we can stop them.”
Glare.
“Overseer, I am Kharn Bloodfist, Chieften of the Shatterskull Marauders, we have fought tooth and nail to get here, the least you could do is show us how to get into the Lower Apothecarium!”
“What Demon Trickery is this?” The overseer finally answered, gripping his axe tighter.
“What?”
“Kor’Krons! These ‘Horde soldiers’ are actually Demons in disguise, I see through their veil, attack for glory and for Orgrimmar!”
“… What?”