Salkeen felt Jericha still stirring in her mind, it was good, it meant that the masters artifact had not simply killed her or locked her permanently in a comatose state. The demon lord began pacing the command center once again, reflecting on the battles he had recently had… The demon lord in this incursion had lost his greatest pilot, a powerful minion he had sent with the pilot to accomplish the unthinkable… He lost a minion that he had almost started to revere as his own daughter and his own daughter by blood was so injured she was healing with his dark master… In the end he had only gained a dear world, no path to Nihilam where the enchanted and powerful metal lied in wait for him… Salkeen growled, he was in quite a spot, he needed a absolute victory to replace this feeling of failure.
The words of the subservient demon roused Salkeen from his thoughts, his impressive visage turning upon the meek demons… After a moment of consideration the demon lord spoke, “You may…” Salkeen hissed, outside he put out a aura of stern and rigid power but inside he still was unsure how he would feel out of her presence after so much loss… “Dress her in the finest robes we have, do not fail me, or I shall dress her in your flesh instead…” Salkeen growled turning away, he moved towards the front of the command center of the vessel… They would arrive at Azeroth’s orbit soon enough…
Salkeen continued to take this time for future planning… Where next should they move? Which demon worlds had fallen to infighting and which were merely waiting for the legion to come and command them… Salkeen could think of a few worlds he might embark to next… Rancora, a world of skittering death, no doubt home to armies of Aranasi waiting for direction… Outland, now devoid of Illidan the fringes of the world were open to the taking of anything of value…
Salkeen’s face grew grim, he could travel to Tarratus, a world of rebellious demons that had not desired to follow the legion and destroy every last one of those traitorous filthy demons… He would reap their souls for his own weapons and empower his armies with their death… The demon lord hissed, disloyalty was the biggest offense he could take, to him those demons were already dead…
Yumara wants to lash out at Orion, she is well aware of the fact that Jericha now belongs to Salkeen. She had given her to him herself, it was what Jericha had needed. That didn’t mean she had stopped caring. It didn’t make her want to care for her or keep her safe any less prominent. Still as much as she wishes to strike out at Orion, she knows that he speaks the truth. How Jericha and Salkeen choose to deal with Jericha’s void problem was their decision. Still like it or not she would step in when Jericha’s life was in danger. Because Jericha’s life being threatened, threatened her life as well, along with the lives of Orion and Izzabelle. That and the fact that she has been with her for eons. Yumara had stopped counting them, well over ten thousand life times ago. Eternally trapped in a never ending cycle. She turns to Orion “I understand, and will not interfere in whatever Salkeen decides. However if It reaches the point that Salkeen is unable to save her, I will step in. Not only will I step in but I will beg Master to save her as well, even if it need be done forcefully. I will not let her irrational fears kill us all.” Yumara states, just as Orion send Izzabelle back to wherever Sericon was.
Yumara felt it as soon as Master started working his magic on one of the ancient trees within her forest. It was one from the original grove, tied more strongly to her because of its age. She could feel the tingling sensation of someone walking over your grave. She at least believes that is the saying she heard used a few times. Then it was like ice flowing through her bloodstream, causing her body to shudder involuntarily. There was no pain, or fear, Yumara was tied so closely and so dependent on Master, his corruption of one of her trees while chilling her to her core, left her feeling complete and even more connected to him. She watches and feels as the tree becomes imbued with his all powerful dark essence. With both this and her Hearttree being effected by Masters power, it would make remaining in here without Masters physical presence much easier. Yumara watches as the Master seems to sink into the tree. She would follow him back to his ship shortly. For now there were thing that needed to be done.
Yumara turns to the plant like pod that contained Jaseiah and smiles slightly. “Let’s get you healed and back were you belong.” As she speaks she goes into her primal form of half tree, half humanoid. Her feet become rooted into the earth, as she pulls on ancient healing waters from below the surface. Her fingers become branches which shoot forth and penetrate the pod in numerous places. Her hair vines that grow rapidly and whip about wrapping around the living cocoon. From her twisted wooden fingers the healing water spills into the pod, filling it with a sap like substance.
Within the pod Jaseiah struggles a bit as the liquid rushes over her. The fear of drowning has her fighting slightly but she is to weak to break free. She tries holding her breath as she is completely submerged in the fluid. The vines wrapped around the plant pod begin to glowing and dozens of shadowy flowers bloom from them. An aura of calmness permeates the cocoon, causing Jaseiah to relax, and feel sleepy. Jaseiah can hear the faint sound of music, almost like nature was luring her to sleep with its own lullaby. Forgetting to hold her breath she breathes in. The healing fluid pours into her lungs. She opens her mouth as soon as she does the liquid fills that spilling down her esophagus and into her stomach. Then she knows nothing as the darkness of sleep claims her.
While Jaseiah sleeps Yumara painstakingly starts to heal and rebuild the damage. It takes her hours to pull the pieces that remain back together. She needs to use all that she has to slowly regenerate that which had been destroyed. All the while she was eradicating the taint left by Ebony. Yumara could easily make Jaseiah more like her, but she wouldn’t. The fact that she was trying to return her as she was, made the healing slower. Her and Salkeen got along horribly as it was, she doubted he would be pleased to get his daughter back, and find that, she was even more tainted with Yumara’s magic, than she had been. Yumara Stands within her forest healing Jaseiah and waiting.
The Shivarra bowed her head a little lower trembling slightly. The Lords rage at all that had happened recently permeated the air around them. “Yes My Lord, our Queen shall receive the best treatment and be dressed in the most exquisite robes that we have.” She promises as she reaches down to lift Jericha carefully up from the chair. She uses all six of her arms, to cradle and support her queen. Had Jericha not just unleashed her Shadowfel Amalgamation, she would of struck out at being moved. Much had happened and the need to be in Lord Salkeen’s presence was rather great. Yet there was a part of her that also wished to be cleaned. Still being lifted caused a slight moment of panic, which caused her mind to call out to Lord Salkeen’s. As this happens Salkeen feels an influx of void come from Jericha, a moment later it tapers off again.
The Shivarra hasn’t moved yet, she’s lightly running one of her hands through Jericha’s hair and speaking to her as she does so. “Be calm my queen, I only seek to help you. You have been through much, I beg of you to let me and the others help. We are but your servants, our lives are yours to command.” She whispers the words trying to calm her Queen, the Demoness knows that if The Queen becomes distressed she would be killed right on the spot. “I promise we will heal what we can, wash the grime and blood from the battle off of your flesh. Then we will dress you in the most glamorous robes that we have. Then we will return you to Lord Salkeen’s side.” The Shivarra waits nervously, to see if Jericha was going to react badly. After a few moments, the demoness feels Jericha relax into her arms. Standing up she holds her close as she makes her way slowly towards the door. Stopping when she would feel her queen tense up, speaking when she did, then moving again when she calmed. It took the Demoness nearly twenty minutes to get out of the room. To many It would of seemed tedious, and they might of just left her and come back later. This Shivarra however wanted to prove her worth to Her Lord, but especially to her Queen.
Once the Shivarra steps over the threshold and off the Command Bridge The Sayaad and Aranasi go to rush forward. A hiss from the Shivarra stops them cold, and they back off a little. But the group of them still follow her down the hall. The pass a room where a few Succubi are being tortured. Their screams of agony, followed by tearful begging fill the halls. Those that were sent to keep the Queen safe had failed in their jobs. Failure was not tolerated, those that were still alive because they tried to flee, or were unable to protect her were now paying the price. The Shivarra moves swiftly pass those rooms, less the torture rouse her Mistress and cause her undo distress. After traversing a few flights they arise at their destination, a massive bathing area, with tubs of many shapes and sizes, showers, saunas, even what looked like a natural waterfall.
They quickly fill one of the upper pools with hot water, they add oils and salts to it that will help heal Jericha’s flesh while she is resting within it. The other Demoness’ are called over to help. They swiftly remove her torn and tattered, blood, and dirt stained robes. As soon as she is free of them, the Shivarra gently lowers her into the water. The water quickly becomes a brownish red as it fills with blood and dirt. The Demoness lifts Jericha from the water and orders it to be drained, scrubbed and refilled. This is done in a matter of moment, and is repeated until most of the loose blood and grime have been removed. Now they worked on actually washing her. Had Jericha been more aware she probably would have sent them all out, she was more than capable of bathing herself. Still they carefully washed every finger, every toe, her hands, her feet, arms, legs, abdomen, chest, back, neck , face. They washed every last speck of the battle from her flesh. Jericha was probably cleaner now than she had been in decades. They then empty an refill the tub once more. The spend the next half an hour shampooing and conditioning her hair. When they are finished it feels like the smoothest of silks.
Removing Jericha from the bath, the Shivarra wraps her in the finest towel, magically imbued to keep the occupant warm and comfortable while being dried. They Dressed her in long flowing, deep green and black. Runes of power and protection are embroidered onto the sleeves and around the hem and neck of the robe, emeralds, peridots, garnets and bloodstones embellish the robe giving it a look of regality. Each gem glows with a power of its own. The Sayaad style her hair into an updo, and use a gold clip encrusted with red and green gems to hold it in place. The slip a fine pair of deep green shoes onto Jericha’s feet, before the Shivarra lifts her up once more to return her to Lord Salkeen’s side. The Shivarra cradles Jericha, as she moves back towards the command bridge. The others had stayed behind to get the bath cleaned and back in order. She was one of the oldest of Lord Salkeen’s Demoness’. She understood that for her Queen, that this new power that she had been given, was something new. Something that she might not want or even understand. She was hoping to help her make the Transition, from being just a minion, to being the Queen of all the Demoness’s in The Lords Armies.
Jaseiah finds herself weakly struggling within her confined space, as it fills with a watery sap like fluid. The thought of drowning after all she had been through frightened her. Yet she was as weak as a newborn calf, parts of her body had been torn away, corrupted, or devoured. It wasn’t until she heard the calming lullaby that she relaxed. She now knew who had her, the same person who had kept her safe for centuries. Even knowing this she still panicked slightly when the fluid filled her lungs. Moments later she found herself adrift in a sea of darkness. Nothing evil or despairing, just a peaceful blackness devoid of all things. Still after a few moments it begins to fill up, thoughts and memories filter in, filling the blank space.
Jaseiah thinks about Ahcire, the sister she had just met and barely knew. How she had planned to work together with her to make their parent proud. She thinks about when they discovered their rooms aboard their Lord Fathers new vessel. So many plans, lost to the wind, as Ahcire sacrificed herself, to prevent herself from being taken. Taken by that horrific creature, that from what she could tell, had tortured her mother. She was certain that in her own way her Mother also mourned the loss of Ahcire. She might of claimed that she didn’t except her as a daughter. Yet when she came, she came to protect them both. Her mother felt the loss she would just never show it. Jaseiah thinks about her mother and how she could so easily be destroyed by the very power that she wields. She wonders what her father would do if that power ever destroyed her, she thinks about what she would do… what silly thoughts to be thinking about. Lord Father would never let that happen.
As a myriad of thoughts tumble through her head, her body is slowly being rebuilt. After what seems like days to Jaseiah fissures of light start to appear in the darkness that surrounds her. For the first time she can her sounds other than the comforting lullaby. It is followed by a plethora of scents, many of them floral in nature. It is then that she comes to, her pod is emptying of the fluid. She feels a tight pressure in her chest as her lungs contract forcing the fluid up out of them. Jaseiah coughs and chokes as fluid rushes out of her mouth, and nose, splattering on the thin plant membrane. It takes her only moments to tear her way free and fall onto the ground by Yumara’s feet. She looks up at her and sees that Yumara is still in her primal hybrid form. It takes Jaseiah a moment to get to her feet, she still felt a bit unstable. Having your body rebuilt wasn’t something people snapped back from easily. It would take her a few days to be once more at 100%. She reaches out and touches Yumara who seems to stir from her healing trance. “It’s nice to see that you have healed well.” Yumara says smiling slightly. Jaseiah grins in return. “It’s nice to see that you are still protective of my well being, even though I’m my fathers daughter.” Yumara groans then dramatically sighs, “don’t remind me of that.” They both look at each other and laugh, for a brief moment.
After a minute or two of silence Yumara speaks, “We should return to Masters ship, and then get you back to your Mother.” Yumara doesn’t mention Salkeen, and this causes Jaseiah to silently shake her head. She contemplated the thought of locking the two in the same room and letting them just go at each other until they were both left in unconscious heaps. To Jaseiah their ongoing animosity towards each other was starting to become tedious. “Yes we should get back to Master Isaik’s Vessel.” Jaseiah found herself a bit curious about both the Vessel and the Dark Master who owned it. Yumara herself just felt the need to be back in Masters powerful presence. Opening a pathway within one of her larger trees her and Jaseiah step through. The doorway vanishes as they step onto the hard steel floor of the vessel, and start making their way towards Master Isaik’s location.
Sericon waited as the ring went onto Izzabelle’s finger, sliding into place, it nearly felt like ages before the things seemed to lessen her pain and she began to speak as well…
Sericon immediately felt the rings responding to Izzabelle’s words, they worked because it was a mutual agreement, a mutual bond… The words were more than symbolic, they were creating a symbiotic bond.
With every word the rings continued to fortify the bond, the two elves would now be closer than ever. Even if separated by miles of space the two bonded beings would feel the other, a link in the mind and soul unlike any other, in a way they were almost one… It was a hard feeling to explain, but Sericon thought as hard as he could… This bond was not unlike how lightforged felt, forever feeling a connection to the light.
Sericon watches as finally with the last words the rings seem to glow before vanishing from spot on their hands to a tattoo where the rings would have been… Now it was permanent, no force could separate them by removing the rings, they were forever bonded! Sericon moved over to hug Izzabelle, it had been too close to losing her so many times… Now they would have each other to forever prevent that.
“You ready to report to the guy in charge?” Sericon asked nudging Izzabelle in the arm. “Or you wanna just hang around this dead red planet for a while longer??” Sericon joked.
Izzabelle grins widely and goes to speak, but the words faltered as they started to fall from her lips. She knew they were on Centralis, but she couldn’t remember why they had come here. It is then thatbshe takes more of a notice of all of the gaps, craters, and canyons littered throughout her mind. One so deep, were she ever to fall into it, she would be floating in that empty darkness for an eternity. She tries not to think about the fact more of her mind was gone. Instead she tries to focus on the few things that she can still remember. She remembers Sericon, and Master Isaik. She recalls fighting a massive Flesh Titan, of being in a vessel, a Gnome, a Pandaren. She remembers the echoes of a pain so great, that it threatened to destroy her. She knows that she is now part Aranasi and that her body is host to a plethora of spiders, and scarabs. Still she cannot remember when or why she was now like this.
“Sericon? Why are we here on Centralis, did Master send us here on a mission?” Izzabelle asks, figuring that Sericon might be able to shed some light on everything.
Izzabelle then sits back in the seat she is occupying, and looks out across the shadowy forest, to, the downed demonic craft. “I say we should return to the Masters ship, and find out what our next mission is going to be.” Izzabelle exclaims, forgetting about the gaps in her mind. As she sits there all these thoughts rush into her mind. The knowledge of powerful abilities that she didn’t know that she had. Her blood almost seemed to burn with a dark energy, It wasn’t painful, but it made its presence known. The fel flames that usually dances over her scaly flesh, was now tainted the color of the void. Only her eyes and fingers still produced the abysmal green flames. Izzabelle smiles, she wished to return to Azeroth and gather up her poisons. She feels like she has been away for a long time.
Stician hissed, his side had been horrifically scaulded by chaotic fel fire, now he was on the run of his life… Stician’s weapons were broken, his minions obliterated, he was fully alone… The undead creature growled turning his body around his rifle lower at his target before firing several wild shots… In the distance instead of sounds of pain and blood the sounds of ricocheting gunfire went off… Stician growled it appeared he would need to use his blade instead, the undead grabbed quickly a long steel blade from the holster on his back… Or it would’ve been a long steel blade if it hadn’t been shattered earlier in the battle…
The undead creature roared holding the broken blade in his undead claws, even in this state he was far from surrender, it was not in his psychology… “Even if you vanquish me now… It won’t mean a damned thing… I am the creature of a million faces, the hunter of champions… I will not be so easily destroyed…” Stician taunted, the undead monsters spun his blade wildly before preparing to attack his attacker…
The undead roared deflecting a blast of light directed at him, hissing as the scattered magic blast seered his undead flesh reducing some of it to ash. The blasts of light came again which Stician tried to block, at the last second however a whip from the darkness separated one of his undead arms lowering his blade! The undead creature shrieked in agony as bolts of light blew apart across his body… The homunculi rose his other arm to block but with a loud blast of gun powder that arm was destroyed as well…
The undead creature sunk down as his body was further destroyed, death was coming… Stician began to murmur… “The wheel of death spins… Again…” the undead croaked as a dark whip lashed around his neck… Stician hissed glaring up at his prey turned killers… A gnome, his original quarry the one the master needed… A dark iron Paladin clad in dark metal, his face obscured by the light… Near them holding the whip was a sayaad, no doubt one of his… But behind them stood a cloaked figure aiming a gun at Stician…
Stician even with both arms removed and being restrained by a succubi’s whip began cackling… The laugh was a wet choking laughter strained from the construction on his neck… “You want to know his plan?? Is that it?” Stician asked accusingly, “You want me to betray him?” The undead hissed, the undead laughed again! “I would only tell you so you would cower in fear, the master is invincible, even to your strongest!” Stician roared… The undead struggled to sit farther up, “The master plans to make a army of homunculi…” Stician hissed lowly seemingly growing weaker… It wasn’t until the defiant look in his eye gave away his plan… “But you won’t live to see it!” Stician growled, coughing hard a small bomb appeared in his mouth that had been stashed in his throat and decaying stomach! Without another word the undead creature and the area around him detonated in a burning blast of fire!
Throggore had not been expecting this from his prey, he cursed himself as he felt he should have… This kinda mistake was the reason he might’ve perished… Before the women’s body had even hit the ground, Throggore had two daggers laced with acid ready in his hands…
Throggore narrowed his eyes, this magic was much like the same magic he saw the master use, with the exception that the master turned into shadows over pests… It was not a magic that was easily countered, but since they were physical creatures Throggore suspected he might be able to destroy them with acid…
Throggore readied his cold steel daggers, the acidic lathering in the blade eager to melt flesh… The orc could easily toss several blades at the women and her pets before he closed the distance… The orc theorized he could make a path to the women by tossing a vial of acid on the floor, but it would give him limit time to act on the extremely corrosive acid…
“I am not sent here by your blood, elf… We came to reclaim individuals of great power from the alliance’s greedy claws… Have you not rotted down here long enough?” Throggore asked spinning his daggers in his hands… Throggore turned to glance at one of the hallways as a loud resounding blast echoed down the halls…
Korgorn silently cursed his lumbering form as the monk’s debauched powers dispatched the guards before the towering death knight could catch up. Once he did, however, he reached out a hand towards Varicar, and chanted something in an unholy union of Orcish and Demonic. While there was no visible pulse of dark power, Varicar quite obviously sped up, moving and striking swifter than before.
“Would that I could cast that spell upon myself. Monk, I go to retrieve a steed.” He declared, starting to march forward once more. “Give that magus and his cohorts no opportunity to join the chase.” Once more, he swept aside any mere guardsman bold enough to stand in his path. He was growing tired of the petty masses of simple guardsmen, though. His goal may have been to escape, but he was dearly tempted to go off to find some champion, a paladin perhaps, to grant him a genuine challenge.
But rather than follow that temptation, he simply began making his way towards the nearest stable. True, those horses would be quite uncooperative in life. But he didn’t have to take a living steed to enable a swifter retreat.
Faendrel’s keeps an eye on the spinning daggers, being that she is fighting an assassin of sorts has her weary. Rogues were known for using all kinds of horrific poisons. If it came down to a fight, she would need do her utmost not to get sliced by one of those twisted blades. The Imps that danced and flipped around her, shot fel flames at the gathering vermin, cackling madly as they burst into flames. A split second later more would take their place. Faendrel glares and the mischievous Imps stop their little game, grumbling as they do so.
Faendrel with her one eye still on the Orc speaks. “If you are not sent by Ebony Darkskill, and you obviously aren’t part of the guard, then we should both go our own way.” Faendrel backs up a little as she speaks. “I have no intentions of stopping you from doing what you came for.” She exclaims dismissing the Imps back into the nether, they vanish in a burst of fel green flames. “I have to get out, I have to find her, you and yours can do as you please. I myself have to find the Void Witch Jericha, so if you do not mind I’ll be on my way.” With that said Faendrel starts to back away further down the corridor. She has the fel stalkers she summoned watching her back. The sudden attack from the Orc earlier, had her cursing letting her guard down. She also knew it would be a while before she could do that trick she pulled earlier again. Faendrel hopes that were she isn’t their to stop or hinder him that the Orc will just allow her to leave.
Sir Righteous Rick, was out patrolling the districts of Stormwind on his most noble steed, and spreading the word of the glorious power of the light, (aka harassing some guys in Olde Town.) when he received word of a plot most foul. It would seem that some misbegotten foolish Horde, had the audacity to release some of the most notorious scum, from the lower levels of the stockades. It was now up to He, Sir Righteous Rick, to put a stop these most foul beings, before they escaped the city. He Sir Righteous Rick glares down upon the drunken hooligans before him. “I shalt leaveth thee with a warning this one timeth, but doth not bringeth mine own wrath upon thee again.” With that warning no bequeathed upon the brigands, Sir Righteous Rick, mounts his noble steed, and makes his way to the Stockades. With the power of the light and his trusty sword, (properly named, Sir Rick’s, Righteous judgement of Justice.), Sir Righteous Rick is ready to face any foe, the wretched Horde could throw against him. They would all taste the overwhelming power of the lights Justice. He, Sir Righteous Rick would be the hand which would deliver this Justice.
He gallops towards the Stockades, waving at his adoring fans, as the jump out of the way, as he rampages past them. “Yes, aye thanketh thee all f’r thy kind w’rds, I sir righteous rick, anon wend to putteth an endeth to this foul uprising.” An old man grumble to himself as he tries to get back to his feet, having barely escaped being trampled. “Whoever let that bumbling fool into the guard, should be drawn and quartered.” He snaps trying once more to get to his feet. A younger woman reaches down and takes his hand, pulling him up off the ground. “I wonder what type of nonsense he’s created this time?” She says as she bends down and picks up the bags the old man was carrying. “It’s hard to say lass, with that bumbling fool.” He speaks, they both laugh and head off in the opposite direction of the carnage, (aka the pissed off citizens left in the wake of Sir Righteous Rick’s passing.)
Sir Righteous Rick arrives at the Stockades and watches as some of the guards rush out. They scream out that nothing but death awaits any who would enter. A moment later they drop to the ground, in death convulsions as foul diseases claimed their bodies. Sir Righteous Rick rushes past them and toward the Guards blocking the door. “I Sir Righteous Rick, has’t cometh to putteth an endeth to this madness. I hest yond thee ope the doth’r and alloweth me passeth!” He shouts while rushing towards the door, his trusty blade drawn and ready for battle. One of the guards raps on the door a series of times, a moment later a series of raps is heard in reply. A few seconds later the Guards open the door to let Sir Righteous Rick pass. Who seems to be having vapors and carrying on about how the Higher ups will hear of this injustice. “This isn’t child’s play Sir Pompous Pri… erm Righteous Rick. Their good men dying down there.” One of the Guards say as Sir Righteous Rick pushes past him, and enters the Stockades. He follows the sounds of screams until he finds what he is looking for. The Foul Death Knight they had captured and imprisoned seemed to be running free. He Sir Righteous Rick would put an end to this hooligan, and his cohorts.
Speaking quickly he casts Hand of Hindrance on Korgorn, to slow down his mad dash. He swiftly casts Blade of light on his trusty sword, before unleashing a judgement at the Death Knight. “Doth thee dareth standeth 'gainst the pow’r of the lighteth. F’r I has’t cometh to putteth the backeth n the grave, wretch’d daw.” Sir Righteous Rick shouts before leaping into the fray.
Sericon looked over at Izzabelle, he felt her confusion as his own, he suspected something like this might occur with the erasing of their old lord. “Correct, the Master sent us here to secure this world and capture a minion that decided to stupidly betray the master.” Sericon said making his way towards the front of the ship once more. The void elf sat in his own chair activating the ships controls once more… The ship seemed to hum nearly silently as it lit up again ready for input from Sericon…
Sericon nodded, “Sounds like a plan.” Sericon grinned pushing his hands onto his ships consoles the flying vehicle responded to its pilot in ways one might not expect. Sericon has been ready to pilot the great vessel back to the masters before the whole of the vessel itself seemed to shriek… Sericon tilted his head reading the magical output of the vessel before laying back. “Seems this baby is much more advanced than I even expected!” The whole ship shuddered before vanishing from the area on Centralis and reappearing aboard the master’s dark vessel. “Seems that this vessel has the ability to instantly return back to the mother ship.” Sericon said standing up with a few gestures activating the ships short range teleportation placing the two elves outside the ship and back within Sericon’s room.
Sericon paused for a moment taking in all the things of his room once more. The void elf longingly glanced at one of the shields sitting gracefully on the walls. A great bulwark of rock it appeared to be, but it thrummed with dark energy. The whole thing made Sericon think, he had promised to be Izzabelle’s shield yet he did not carry one. If anything the elf was more likely to be holding edged weapons of unbelievable sharpness… Sericon gave a small smirk, he understood what he meant during the bond, even with no physical shield in his hands the elf would not shy away from leaping in front of a attack to protect Izzabelle…
“I do believe the dark master is awaiting us, no doubt to start our training…” Sericon said leading the way out of his room and down the dark twisted halls of the masters dark vessel. “We are being prepared to fight and kill the teacher of chaos, the one who would end us all.” Sericon said walking ever forward in the dark and treacherous hallways, he himself wondered how they would learn to kill a being that threatened something as strong as the master.
Finally the elf came upon the clear entrance to where the master was, the command center of the massive vessel. Entering silently the elf took position near the edge of the wall and awaited to be acknowledged, Sericon crosses his arms waiting patiently.
Throggore watched the women with a intensity that might unnerve others, yet with the mask he wore it was hard to figure out exactly where he was watching… The orc glanced over at the Tauren still standing by the edge of the room, was he perhaps not willing to fight if needed? Throggore had not been assigned a task for quite some time but even he had heard of Salkeen’s new pet, Jericha… The orc twitched slightly, he had only wished to gather enough minions to ensure his own life was not in peril when he returned, but now his dark master was in the possibility of gaining much more… Growling loud before sending a dagger into the floor, “That was is a dead end… The fel monk Varicar is working on a way out… But if you truly want to find Jericha, Salkeen’s pet, escaping with us would be much more useful to a whelp like you.” The orc grunted…
Throggore ducked low again as he heard another resounding blast of magic nearby… “Come or don’t, but without us you may never escape!” The rogue barked before in a flash of smoke the massive orc rogue seemingly vanished into thin air! Truthfully however Throggore was now scaling the ceiling like that of a spider creeping towards whatever was engaged with Varicar… In truth the orc had little care for the damned homunculi, but it would look poorly if Throggore returned without the creature… Turning down the nearby halls the orc saw his prey a mage, the same mage from before standing behind a wall of armored soldiers…
Braumer was beyond terrified! Standing behind a plethora of armored soldiers the mage summoned blast after blast of arcane ice to slow the escaped prisoners down! Yet anxiety grew more and more as every cascading blasts of razor ice was deflected or seemed to do absolutely nothing to the creature in front of them!
Braumer was unsure what to do, but the loud yells of disgust from his own his guards made him act with force! With a quick spell work the human sent a wall of frigid ice hurtling towards Varicar! But the vile creature conjured more of that dark magic blasting two spell together! Shards of razor ice flew around the room impaling Varicar and injuring several guards! Even Braumer himself gritted in pain as a shard of ice had cut his arm… Braumer struggles but sent another wall of ice hurtling towards Varicar, that hideous creature dodged it without much effort…
Braumer was afraid, quite afraid intact however he knew behind him Jakk was waiting to berate him and abuse the magic caster… Braumer groaned, he knew he was hardly a match for that creature the horde had seemingly made but he could atleast slow it down enough for others to come back him up!!
Braumer rose his hands casting again! A flash of blue sent ice down the hall, Braumer hoped that if he had turned the entire floor into a ice rink that the creature would be unable to use its devastating chi attacks!! Braumer rose his arms again to follow up the spell when he felt the cold chill of steel wire wrap around his throat! Within seconds the mages breath was leaving him fast! How?? What had gotten past them! Braumer struggles hard, water starting to run in his eyes to see a massive orcish form standing behind him beginning to tighten the wire!!
Jakk stormed down the halls gathering other guards from old posts and checking cells to make more of what had escaped… “Status report!?! Now!!” The arrogant man roared to the others around him. “Sir! Our sources say the deathknight Korgorn is free, as is the witch Faendrel, and the Tauren!” A nervous guard squeaked!
Jakk slammed his fist into a wall before glaring at the man, “This will not be another Zandalari prison break! I will not be like that disgraced idiot!!” Jakk growled he rose his hand up ready to smack something else… “Sir! The guard Rick is in the stockades! He is currently engaging the deathknight!” Another guard barked…
Jakk lowered his hand placing his palm on his face, “Why did I ever hire that fool…” Jakk groaned… “Because he’s your wife’s cousin!” The first guard barked! Jakk whipped around and back handed the man, “That was rhetorical!” Jakk roared before stopping… He had a idea! “Well since that idiots is down here, we will place on the blame on him if any of them escape!” Jakk schemed he wouldn’t be known as another incompetent captain of guards…
“Head out lets contain this mess!” Jakk roared gathering more guards and beginning to march out into the deeper part of the stockades! Jakk and his guards moved with the speed of a team of elite rogues however it was only because Jakk was running the men ragged! They turned to corner at the most opportune time! Jakk sneered as some ugly horde orc was trying to garrote his mage! If there was one thing Jakk hated more than his lazy and incompetent guards and that cowardly mage it was the ugly, smelly, stupid monkey-like horde in his stockades dirtying up the place!!! Jakk charged forward kicking Throggore hard in the side before swinging his blade at the orc to further force it back and releasing Braumer from the grip of death!
Jakk growled lunging his blade forwards to skewer the repugnant green creature when Throggore vanished in a blast of smoke! Stomping his foot down in rage Jakk grabbed Braumer before shaking him violently, “You made me miss my orc maggot!!!” Jakk screamed throttling the mage before pushing him back down to the floor! “Now get up and kill those horde freaks!!” Jakk screamed so loud it seemed he might pop a blood vessel!
Faendrel paused in her retreat as the Orc assassin spoke of Jericha, a pet of sort to whoever this Dalkeen was. The Jericha She was searching for wasn’t a pet, however she had to agree with one thingbthe Orc had said. Her chances of escaping this place alone, was an impossibility at the greatest. While being a slow torturous death as the worse. Faendrel nods at the Orc, letting him know that she agrees that following them would be best for now. She watches as the Orc seemingly vanishes after a second explosion rocks the passageway a bit further up. Faendrel moves swiftly down the corridor, most of the vermin, and the two fel stalkers mirroring her movements. She is using some of the rats to spy on what lies ahead, using them to see around corners, that she would otherwise be blind to.
Throw the ratsxeyes she could see that the Orc had caught another fool, like herself earlier completely unaware. Unlike her however, she believed he wouldn’t survive decapitation. She could smell his fear from hear, it left her feeling a bit giddy, as it fed her with energy.
Fury filled Faendrel as she saw the Captain of the Guards enter into the fight, freeing the Mage. She despised that man. Oh how he enjoyed verbally, mentally, and physically torturing those prisoners beneath his watch. She should know, having dealt with it many times before. Faendrel sneers, it obviously wasn’t justbthe prisoners, that were forced to deal with his elite jerkism. She wasn’t sure if she could take on the Captan of the Guards on her own, but she wasn’t about to run either. Faendrel rounds the corner and sends a seed of corruption flying into Captain Jakk’s back. Before sending the two Fel Stalkers leaping onto the Guards nearest his. The viscous fel beasts trying to rip out their throats. She activates creeping death, as she casts Unstable affliction on the wretched Captain. She swiftly commands the vermin to swarm the guards and the fallen Mage. Faendrel prepares to cast again as fel flames burst in tiny explosions around her, heralding the arrival of a group of Imps.
Fushan bowed low, he was eager to meet the dwarves however the meeting was cut short by a dark turn in his old friend. Fushan had known this was coming for a long time, even Fushan had been trying to help hold back the leper gnome affliction… Fushan nodded he had already said his goodbyes to his friend long ago…
Fushan stood up slowly before walking slightly away from the group, he needed time to think, the great pandaren had known for a long time what this meant. Long ago after Fushan had met Smuggs, the pandaren had received a vision, when Smuggs would succumb to his affliction the path lay with a women of light. Fushan now understood Myrandah was that women, if he ever wanted his friend back the path was with her!
Fushan breathed deep inward from what he saw the path ahead was quite arduous, the women of light would have several paths to choose from in the near future. These paths would be essential to ending a horrific darkness creeping across the land, this women would be the reason the champions of righteousness would bend together against evil!!
Fushan breathed out he cast his gaze over the group, he would miss Smuggs, but if things went well his friend would return… Fushan merely had to wait for the end he wished would never happen…
Turasko merely watched as the two nearly brought weapons and violence upon each other… The old Tauren had seem obscure glimpses of this potential future before, a women looking for her blood relative but hunter by a dark creature… She would come upon the skull of a Laughing orc, he would seem like a unlikely ally but he would bring her closer to the one she seeked…
As the two seemed to come to a agreement Turasko merely followed along, his giant form not a hinderance… Within moments the rogue and the women ran off, Turasko right behind them! As Turasko rounded the corner of the hallways he saw the gruesome scene a full blown battle between the dark creatures and the alliance guards…
Turasko watched in solemn and pain as the horrific fighting grew worse, men and women died, as the evil minions of whatever master ruled over the fel monk pushed them all to commit wanton slaughter!! Turasko felt a single tear fall from his face, he would be no part of such a massacre… Turning slowly and beginning to head down back down the direction he cane the Tauren called out… “I can not be apart of such vile acts, I’d rather be left in this prison then join such evil…” Turasko yelled, continuing to head back farther away.
Smuggs groaned blinking up at the blurred image of his son… “They are coming for Thommus… They have the… Usurpers!” Smuggs called out his eyes becoming more milky… “My electro prod! It was powered by… Explosions!!” Smuggs yelled, inside his mind he cursed it was becoming harder and harder to communicate… “They must know… Troggs!! He’s coming, hes ready to wipe us out!” Smuggs cursed, he began to thrash as the affliction continued to rack his body…
Smuggs glared up at his son with milky eyes and began to bare his teeth! “Get out! This is our home! Filthy Troggs!” Smuggs growled he now started to try and rise, he would get these filthy things away from him! Smuggs continued to growl glaring up before starting to wrap his hand around a big rock… He would bash these Troggs’s heads open!
Zassion looked despaired, he knew that his father had gone through something rough… But it only made it worse that before this day they had ended on harsh words, Zassion had even demanded that Smuggs retire!
Zassion looked down talking lower so his father would not hear… “He shouldn’t have even been out there… He should’ve known his limits…” Zassion muttered…
Zassion looked up at Myrandah, “There is not…” Zassion spoke frankly, “Even we gnomes have no cure for this affliction yet… That’s why we need as much as he knows before we put him under…” Zassion said.
Zassion continued to send healing mists into the debilitated gnome that was his father… “Thommus? Your old inventing partner?? Why?” Zassion asked freezing at the word usurpers…
Zassion watched with further fear as the gnome that was his father had his eyes grow milky… “They have what??” Zassion asked trying to piece it together… “The prod you got from mom?!” The gnome asked.
Zassion shook his head his father wasn’t making any sense! Zassion couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was trying to say and trying to keep him stabilized!
Zassion watched as his father further deteriorated, a scene that brought tears to his eyes… Thd young gnome didn’t really know his fathers new friend so he tried to hide his intense sadness of losing the man that he both loved and hated… Zassion nearly didn’t see it, Smuggs grabbing a nearby rock… Smuggs’s lunged the rock in his hand ready to kill his son! “Arcar now!” Zassion called out, watching as the crazed gnome that was his father reached to kill but was flash frozen into a block of solid ice.
Zassion turned away, he couldn’t look any more… The gnomish doctor normally so calm and removed from emotion had finally began to break… Dropping his head in his hands Zassion began to weep… As soon as he could he would figure out what his father meant…