The latest chapter in the chronicles of Deepriver. This one was difficult to put onto paper because it strikes the unspoken nerve of the character. No more beating around the bush or insinuation, Saljourn’s motivations are exposed by someone who very likely relates to some degree.
Undeath is a curious topic - the damned, as they refer to themselves. Sylvanas learned at the conclusion of WOTLK that in spite of their actions in undeath, their souls are bound for the Maw. We may see something to the contrary in Shadowlands; I will be keeping an eye for any Forsaken lore figures in any of the zones besides the Maw.
Point being, of all the races who experience undeath, it is the Tauren who suffer their own existence the most.
Thank you for following along, and please enjoy the chapter. Again, I do not take any credit for these artist’s work, but thank them for giving me the motivation to create something.
Finally, If you have questions, or advice I would love to hear from you! But for now, please enjoy.
Chronicles of Deepriver
Chapter VII - Longsuffering
Sal’Journ tugged at the chains binding his wrists to the ceiling of the Lordaeron cell. A duo of Forsaken Warlocks stood guard, their towering Felguards gripped their cruel weapons tightly, ready to be unleashed.
“Wise,” Sal’Journ growled lowly. “Your slaves will buy you some time.”
The Warlocks maintained their focus. They could not afford to show doubt in front of their guests.
Sal’Journ had not decided his next move before the cell door broke open, giving way to a squad of Deathguards, flanking Sal’Journ on his left and right. Executor Slade Killingfield entered behind them.
Silent and brooding, the Executor drew his Bastard Sword and pinned it to the stone floor, leaning slightly against it.
Sal’Journ’s eyes drifted away defiantly, refusing to meet the Executor’s piercing gaze.
“You Shu’halo and your pesky, misguided sense of honor. Every bit the hypocrite and traitor as Bloodhoof,” the Executor scoffed.
“Too many innocents,” Sal’Journ began. The Executor cut him off, furiously.
“Innocents!” The Executor spat at the ground. “There are no innocents in this world, you of all should know better,” He stopped and sighed deeply, spinning his blade at the hilt.
Sal’Journ looked to his old friend, noting the slightest sign of hesitation.
“Take your vengeance and end me,” Sal’Journ said flatly, his head hung low.
“No.”
Sal’Journ looked up, confusion etched across his heavily scarred face.
Killingfield stared unblinking at the blade, reading the inscription on the hilt.
“That’s what you want…what you’ve always wanted. Isn’t it Deepriver,” the Executor prodded. “To be released from this hell of undeath. An eternity away from your Earthmother.”
Sal’Journ was silent.
The Executor chuckled knowingly to himself. He waved his hand, dismissing the cohort of guards from the cell. He waited while they filed out of the room. Once empty, Killingfield produced a key and unbound the shackles from Sal’Journ’s wrists. The Tauren felt a hint of panic crawl up his spine. Dread filled his heart.
“Too proud or cowardly to end your own existence, you’ve waged war at my side all these years, hoping to meet your end.” Slade said as he moved towards the weapon rack where Sal’Journ’s Runeblade was secured.
“No. I will not grant you the good death you so desperately desire,” the Executor growled. “No, I will not release you from the bondage of your immortal coil,” his voice grew louder. “No, I will not allow you to escape the horrors of your own doing. No, peace will never find you!” he roared.
Sal’Journ stared straight ahead.
“And,” the Executor said softly as he turned around, holding the Runeblade in hand. “You will roam this world an outcast. Embraced by neither the living, nor the dead. Hated by all.” The Executor approached stopping just in front of Sal’Journ.
The Executor extended the Runeblade to Sal’Journ.
Sal’Journ’s already decrepit heart felt as though it was ripped to shreds. He looked down, retrieving the Runeblade. Slade stepped to the side, making the path to the door open. Sal’Journ slammed his fist against his chest in a salute, which Killingfield returned.
As Sal’Journ moved to the cell door, the growl of the Executor echoed behind him.
“May you live forever.”