World of Warcraft®

Somewhere within Elwynn, a thing slept.

It once called itself Gnome. Once had a name. An identity. It had hopes and dreams, aspirations like those of any other. These anchors have vanished, replaced by something else. None can tell what that might be.

Not until it awakens.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On the fringes of a glen somewhere within the forests of Elwynn a small stone cave dens a pack of wolves. The alpha is at rest amidst his harem and cubs. Soldiers are roaming their territory, hunting, stalking, protecting what's theirs.

One such soldier caught a whiff of something. It wasn't human. Hunters now and then found their way this deep in. A show of force was all that was needed to deter them, and from then on they'd usually skirt the den. It wasn't a squirrel or deer. Not any game he'd ever smelt, but one thing was certain. He smelt blood.

The trail suddenly began with little other scent. He followed its trail twisting among the trees. It lead to the base of a large tree. Among some shrubs and forest debris lay the quarry in question. It was small, looking human enough. It stood and watched. Waited. Listened. Birds chirped. A breeze blew rustling the forest leaves. All was serene. Silent.

The wolf took at step forward. Bit by bit, a slow and careful approach.

The thing laid still as death. It bled. One arm was cradles across its chest, blackened and smelling different. Curious, reassured by serene atmosphere, the soldier stepped carefully closer and sniffed. The wolf sniffed the bloody creature head to toe. It sniffed the blackened arm. Gently its tongue extended and licked the crusty exterior of that blackened arm.

The serenity of his surroundings, the wolf would discover, was a lie.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The alpha sat near the entrance of the small stone den. He panted casually from boredom. Eyes half closed. Ears twitching this way and that. His cubs of all ages yipped and yapped. The smaller of them played and fed close to their mothers. The older wandered out into the open glen to romp and play. Other mothers sat in the open glen, or meandered about the area. On the fringes of the glen were a few soldiers. These sat or laid lazily about.

A distant voice so familiar to them cried out, loud and shrill. Every wolf of the glen paused, lifted their heads high, cantered their ears, and listened. The voice, so loud and shrill, cried out in desperation and was suddenly silenced. That was no ordinary cry. All the heads turned to the alpha.

The large proud wolf was already standing at attention, fixing on the direction of the cry. His round powerful frame bounded forward from the den. A few mothers and soldiers followed close to heel. Most mothers stayed back to protect the den along with a few select soldiers.

The forest around the glen came alive with movement as those who were out on patrols made their way to the cry, falling in to rank behind the powerful Alpha male.

Lilith heaved a heavy breath.

She had been swimming in a sea of darkness for so long that it was like coming up for air. The world slowly washed back to her. She could smell the forest and feel the breeze. Bits of sunlight touched her flesh and she was warmed. Then the warmth surrounded her.

Reality hammered its way home and she staggered, suddenly finding herself standing. Panting. Sore. The soreness was sharp at first, then became mild. Her left arm ached and she remembered the injury. It had been badly charred, burnt nearly beyond use. She lifted that arm and was astonished.

The skin was in the process of knitting. A faint green tinted energy snaked over the flesh. Charred tissue was regenerating, replacing the black necrotic, sloughing it off as if it had been only bad sunburn. It was itching terribly and aching.

Something twitched at her feet and she suddenly became aware of something she had been gripping tightly in her right hand.

Looking down she found it was a thick mane gray wolf. Startled she dropped the animal. She had been holding it by the fur at its throat. The wolf flopped limp upon the ground and didn't move. Confused Lilith gazed around the forest.

How did I get here?
What happened?
Why does everything hurt?

"Why am I covered in blood?" she whispered aloud, gazing over her arms and down her front.

The tattered remnants of her clothing were saturated with a dark viscous fluid and matted against her skin. The distinct sensation of being wet and sticky made her skin crawl as the iron rich scent filled her nostrils. Her stomach twisted and for a moment she felt the bile move from within, threatening an escape.

Her left arm tingled again and she glanced at it. Her flesh was nearly completely healed yet a distinct scar pattern remained. She looked closer and everything that had happened leading up to now returned to her. The darkness within churned, giving Lilith an altogether different sensation which she more than welcomed.

Closing her eyes the blood stained raven-haired gnome reached within and touched that darkness. It provided clarity and understanding. Her gears of her gnomish mind again began working. A wicked smirk of self satisfaction graced her lips a moment before her attention was averted by a distant rustling.

In the brush near by lay the dark black grimoire of her Grim Master. She felt it pulse and she was reminded of her task. One by one the large beasts appeared in a circle around the gruesome scene. The wolves stopped and watched, growling, snarling, baring teeth, but not closing the distance. Not yet.

A much larger wolf stepped through the line. Its chest thick and broad with a long gray mane and heavy coat. Deadly eyes lock with her own, and Lilith suddenly found herself completely surround. The situation appeared dire for the lone petite gnome.

What chance could she have against an organized pack of wolves championed by their Alpha? But she was not alone.

There was a darkness growing deep within her that hungered. In this moment, there were worse things loose within this forest.

In this moment, that worse thing was her.

* * * * * * * * * *
[Edit] ((Story originates -from- this thread: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/11674227517 ))

Assimi taps her pen against her small desk as she stares down at the report in front of her, eyes narrowed in thought. She finally shakes her head and adds her name to the bottom of the report, reading it over with a sigh and a faint grimace as she leans back in the chair, boots up on the desk.

Witness:Rachael Read
Witness reports finding small, dismembered and half-skinned animals during her routine check of traps in Elwynn. She brought the ones she found in, and it was rather gruesome. Looks like an amateur went at them. Furthermore, there was a pack of wolves the witness was tracking, and she states that she found their den, with pieces of the wolves scattered over the clearing. Whoever did it was clearly not hunting them for meat, since the choicy bits were still laying there. They were however missing eyes, ears, tongues, and entrails. There was also a great deal of blood reported in one area, as if the animals were all slaughtered in one spot and then dismembered. I have advised the witness to stay close to the city for further questioning after the scene has been examined.

Simi shakes her head before standing up to deliver the report to Laman, shaking the paper dry as she walks.

The raven-haired gnome pressed her back against a thick tree. She breathed heavily, her world spinning.

I need a moment. Just a moment.

It had all happened so quickly, she wasn't totally certain what she had done. Thinking back, she felt possessed. Almost as if...

As if my darkness had taken over.

A cold chill jolted her. It was an incredible sensation. She wanted to experience it again, but she doubted the wisdom in doing so. If she completely loses herself to ...whatever this is... would she ever come back?

Control. She thought. That's what I need to find.

She pressed herself from the tree, hand slipping a little. She continued on her way, glancing back at the tree to see a dark crimson sologuette and smeared hand print. The sight reminded her of the gore that was beginning to dry on her clothes and skin. She needed desperately to bathe. The iron scent graced her nose and again she felt ill.

The trees ahead of her began to part, revealing a tall blue shingled roof of a tower.

That's a start. Maybe I can find someone sympathetic enough to help an innocent looking gnome covered in gore.

A flicker of hope sparked in her mind. That distant blue roof appeared to be a chance for her to get back something resembling normal. She mused as she walked, wondering if she even understood what normal meant anymore.

"Don't go there."

A voice spoke to Lilith. She stopped dead in her tracks and glanced around, wide eyed. Had she been caught? Did someone see her do what she did?

What.. Who... Where did that come from?

"Don't go to that tower."

Lilith exhaled, recognizing that sensation. Someone was speaking to her alright, but not to her ears. To her mind.

Who is this? How are you...?

"Never mind that now. You mustn't go to that tower. Don't even go near it. That place is dangerous for those like us."

Like us? Lilith shook her head, dismissing the voice completely. The raven-haired gnome continued walking.

"Final warning."

Stay out of my head!

The last stretch to the tower was made in silence.

Lilith raised her head. A fog lifted from her eyes. The world spun for a moment but then it all came into focus.

This is becoming a nasty and rather annoying habit, she thought. Being rendered unconscious.

She glanced at her surroundings, slowly lifting her head. It was dark, but torch lit. A dungeon... no. A cellar. Crates of foodstuffs and supplies lined one wall. Tools and assorted items the other.

Standing a short distance from her, two gnomes. Each dressed in the same styled robes. Each male and groomed in the same fashion. Heads and face cleanly shaven. She cringed, remembering these two specifically. Her last thought was of them.

It was all too strange to her, seeing two gnomes dressed the same and completely shaven. Uniformity wasn't typical of gnomish society, even within their militarized factions where one would think uniformity would be paramount. It just wasn't in their nature and was almost unnatural to witness. A gnome without colorful wild hair, a prominent mustache, a convoluted name, or some interesting gadget or technology was like a dwarf without a beard. It was just ...strange.

She glared at each in turn. "You used some sort of spell didn't you. To incapacitate me?"

"That's right." One nodded, the other spoke. "We were initially concerned,"

", seeing you approach saturated with gore as you were." The one nodding completed the others' sentence.

"That was until we saw you."
"Saw you for what you were."

Lilith sighed, repressing the pain in her head as best as possible. "Is that so. Well its given me quite the headache. Mind telling me what..." She tried to raise her arms but found them bound at her sides. Looking down she found that a rope with a suspicious blue hue wrapped around her, binding her to the chair where she sat.

"What is this!?" She looked between the two.

"We will get answers from you,"
", soon enough."
"Right now the master is being informed."
"You, the sneaky little agent from the other tower."

Lilith's brow drew down. She fixed each a glare in turn. "First of all, you should know better. 'Little'. Really." She huffed. "Undignified."

"Second, what tower? What are you two talking about? I was just caught up in...."

"Enough!" One commanded, cutting her off mid-lie. The other spoke immediately after.
"We will know soon enough what to do with you."
"To know if we can trust what you say."
"You and your fel taint."
"We have our ways,"
", of making you talk truths."

The pair turned to each other and began chatting about something inconsequential. Lilith huffed again. Now it was obvious. These two sensed it, the darkness within. If they could sense it then indeed her grasp of fel-powers had grown stronger. She would have to be more careful in the future. Perhaps adopting a mask of some sort, along with a method to cloak her 'fel essence'.

At any rate, she was now their prisoner and it was getting eerie. Especially how those two seemingly finished each others' thoughts. She needed to devise an escape.

"Just creepy." She muttered, privately grateful that she had hidden Grim's Black Grimoire. Else it would have fallen into the hands of these two. The pair looked at her.

"What was that?"

Lilith shook her head and grinned. The pair returned to their meaningless conversation. She had to get out of here. Quickly before she became some sort of strange sacrifice.

For a moment she grinned at the irony of her last thought.

You see? What did I tell you...

It whispered in her mind, the same voice from before her capture. It tone was flat but not dispassionate. It was measured, focused, serious. The voice reflected, in part, that of her Grim Master but it distinctly was not him. It revealed little of its true nature. Lilith drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, conversing.

Very well. You were right to warn me. I still don't appreciate that you can apparently invade my mind at will. How are you doing this? Where is this coming from?

Hush for now and pay attention. All the answers you seek will be revealed to you in time, but for now you need to make your escape. The voice spoke with the aire of an ulterior motive, which was not missed by the raven-haired gnome.

... but I need your help to do so. What do you want of me in return for your aid?

A sharp one. Good. I recently had a book stolen from me by one of these treacherous creatures, who I had taken into confidence. I was blinded by a creative illusion. I killed the traitor but the book was lost to me. Being a tome of some magical importance, the spell woven around it has shown me its precise location.

... and you want me to take it back for you. Lilith finished the voice's thought.

Again, you are a sharp one and direct. I like this about you. The voice suddenly turned familiar. Almost flirty. Only then did it seem distinctly female in nature.

I'm impatient at the moment. Get to the point. Where is this book?

I will loose your bounds and sync you with the spell. Its location will become obvious to you then. Grab the book...

... and bring it back to you. Yes yes. I understand. Lets get this over with! I need to be free of this place!
* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *
In the meantime Lilith sat still on her chair.

She had become distinctly aware of the bindings wrapping her torso and abdomen, lashing her arms down to her sides. During her mental conversation the intricate workings of her gnomish mind turned, testing her bonds.

It seemed that more than simple rope immobilized her. The bonds held a subtle magical essence she could only feel where they pressed against her skin. This subtle magic somehow blocked her ability to touch the darkness within. She still felt her connection with the fel power. It churned deep inside her, angry and violent, hungry to be released, but she just simply couldn't reach it. Even if she could it likely wouldn't have done much good.

A faint low tone hummed in her ear which spoke to her of magic, but of a different sort. It titillated the fine hairs on her arm and face the way an energizing induction coil did when it was charged with electricity. Some form of a magical ward or shield surrounded her. Correction, surrounded them. It touched the walls, the floor, the low ceiling. Even if she were able to touch her darkness and reach out, she had a gut feeling that these wards would somehow negate her.

She was trapped.

If only her bonds were loosed. She could do work with that. As she was, Lilith had been rendered completely helpless. Worse of all, she was fully aware of it. Her brow scrunched with a thought.

Fully aware of my helplessness.

It was as if simply subduing her wasn't enough. Rendering her helpless and inert wasn't enough. She was being made known of it, as if her captors were boasting.

Could that be it? Could it be so simple?

Their sneering pride. Their robust overconfidence. That was their weakness. If she were able, that is where she would strike first, at their pride. She would use their pride against them and break their spirits. Oh, how she now hungered for the chance! The fel raged deep within her like a dog gnawing on its prison bars to be let loose.

In that crucial moment it happened.

The rope bonds firmly wrapped around her chest, binding her arms at her sides, went slack. The magic that blocked her faded. In that crucial moment, an instant before the other two gnomes became aware of the danger they faced, Lilith reached deep down inside herself. Like a key to a lock she touched that fel darkness, releasing the caged beast.

What followed was a silent blur.

Her keen gnomish intellect fueled by the fel energies that surged within had already devised a method to overcome the wards that were placed, and those 'twins' were the key. She rushed from her seat and dispatched the two with extreme prejudice. The magical ward of the room dispersed that instant.

Darkness fueled her movements, filling her emotions.

A euphoria washed over her that she fought to control, lest she lose herself to the drunken madness. Giving way to the chaos right now could be dangerous, not knowing the talented limitations of this tower's inhabitants, let alone the breadth of power their 'lord' possessed.

Her mind shifted to the book. The work she was meant to retrieve. Its location became clear.

Lilith bounded up the steps, her vision tinted suddenly a very faint red hue. The sudden act distracted her and she slipped on a step. The presence of another gnome donned in similar styled robes as the twins she'd just dealt with, she could feel its presence. She could sense the gnome's location, his disposition, everything short of actually seeing the person or invading its mind.

The sensation was incredible.

She surfaced from the cellar and was upon that robed gnome before he was ever aware of her. Standing over his body she wondered, Was this a cult?

Pushing the notion aside she glanced around the ground floor of the tower.

Tables set against the walls and along side the stone steps the gave access to the levels above. An alchemy set dominated one table. Another was covered by books of varying sizes and colors. Another still looked to be a desk or workstation of some sort, and it was upon this table that the book sat.

Almost on instinct she gestured with a hand summoning unseen tendrils of shadow that lifted the tome, carried it swiftly from across the empty room, and placed it in her grasp. She focused on the door that seemed to be the entrance and rushed at it.

With another gesture streams of shadow ripped from the darker corners of the room forming an inky mass that struck hard at the solid wooden door. Wood splintered outward at the impact and though it was early afternoon of the day following her capture in the forests of Elwynn, Lilith disappeared like a shadow in the night.

Book in hand, she deviated from her route and doubled back to where she had stashed the Black Grimoire. Recovering the dark tome she continued on her course, crossing the kings road into the southern reaches of Elwynn and cut a swift path toward the well known Redridge Tower of Three Corners.

By some means of magic the small simple wooden boat lurched forward slightly as it pulled away from the dock. Apparently under its own means the boat picked up speed. The bow raised into the air several inches as it cut a wake across Lake Everstill.

Lilith's mind wandered back to her resent escape from captivity in that Elwynn tower. The whole situation confused her. Who were those gnomes? There were so many of them. All dressed nearly identically, they were even groomed alike. Think back, the location gave her a chill. It all seemed so... creepy. Cult-ish.

She had seen a few cults in her wanderings, but always from partially within as a friend or perspective. She had never really joined. Even then they seemed to unnerve her, but she figured it was like any other group of “devout” people. Who was she to judge.

Never had she been the target of so much unwarranted hate, suspicion. Fear. More than unnerving. This time it was scary.

The boat moved east across the glassy waters, away from Lakeshire. Lilith watched the famous bridge which had been so long under reconstruction diminish into the distance. The raven-haired gnome heaved a sigh of relief.

The path that laid ahead of her was still uncertain. Who this mysterious cowled woman was, how she spoke into the gnomes mind, why she appeared to be helping her; these were questions which she meant to have answered. Soon.

For the moment however, she just wanted to relax.

As the boat neared the eastern shore of the enormous Lake Everstill, it vered to the north approaching a gap between two cliffs.

Lilith hadn't been paying much attention at the time, but noted that twice the boat felt as if it had lifted off the water surface. She never noticed the two rocky obstructions the boat oddly cleared with ease. Moments after entering the narrow pass a growing noise grabbed her attention.

The boat neared the edge of a waterfall and despite the rushing current it pulled to the side. The cloaked woman tossed out a rope loop, snaring a stout mooring post. Wordless she disembarked and Lilith followed close behind.

Abruptly before them rose a high cliff face, not perfectly vertical but at enough of an attitude to discourage any attempt at scaling the sheer wall. There was however a device that the raven-haired gnome had failed to notice at first glance. The cloaked woman lead her to a set of narrow steps and hand holds carefully cut into the sheer rock face, facilitating their climb upwards.

Several difficult minute later the gnome finally reached the grassy top. Exhausted and sore she flopped to her back breathing deeply. The mysterious woman had reached the top long before and simply stood under a nearby tree and waited. When Lilith had regained her composure, they continued into the glen.

Immediately Lilith saw a simple encampment in the distance to her left. A white smokey tendril reaching into the canopy high above. Then she saw them. Gnolls. They surrounded the campsite. She nearly froze in fear, having never encountered one in the wild before. Not wanting to be left behind she hurried to the mysterious woman, trying to stay as close as possible.

The trees parted and the white stone tower with a red roof resting atop a tall hill loomed into view. Trying to mask her wonder, she followed the woman up the hill and around its wide base, passing several sentry gnolls along their way. Strangely they didn't seem to pay her much notice.

All things being equal, she prefered to go unnoticed.

Reaching what she assumed was the front of the tower, the pair stepped up between four pointed pillars to the entry. Immediately she became aware of a violet glow emanating from the entrance. As the mysterious woman approached Lilith had already guessed at its purpose.

Ricters skirted the edge of the narrow passage, often waist deep in the strong current. It was slow progress. Some time later he finally reached the moored boat.

Eyes like an eagle and with practiced grace the bounty hunter silently pressed himself out of the water. He followed the faint disturbance of dust to set of steps cut into the sheer cliff face. A few swift moment later he found himself atop the cliff, crouched upon cool green grass. Far from soft however, the grass grew in often thin patches concealing hard rocky soil beneath.

All his many years in the service and plying his trade for some time afterward had trained him well. His skills were at their pinnacle, sharp as the blades edge he pulled from his waistband. Wary of the distant gnolls and the few the patrolled nearby the mercenary slinked an unseen path to the base of the tower.

Following his quarry's path around its base, he surprised the lone sentry gnoll slipping the knife from his belt up through its jaw and into the brain cavity. With no more than a gargle and a slight struggle the man laid the creature silently to the ground.

He continued to drift around to the tower's entrance like a ghost, following the signs of his prey. The platform approaching the entrance was unguarded, which was strange. Approaching the doorway up the steps he discovered why.

The door had been sealed shut with magic. Furthermore a thick pane of energy emanating a violet hue stood before the entry portal as a semi-transparent but solid barrier. He had come across such barriers only a few times before, and each time he'd tested their resolve. He well enough now that no earthly device could hope to penetrate this defense.

Every portal had a key, and if it has a key then its lock could be picked. This was a simple truth. In this case however only an expertly trained sorcerer with extremely potent magic could ever hope to defeat this barrier's lock. The only other hope he had was to discover the key.

Ricters stood straight knowing that he was alone. He had a sense about being watched, a sense carefully developed in his trade. One of the many tools he kept honed. The man shift the long rifle at his back taking careful note of his surroundings. He was familiar enough to know he was in the Red Mountains. Finding the place on a map would be simple enough, and he could work back from there.

If a key existed that would allow him entry, he would find it. His anonymous patron required certain concrete information and he always delivered, especially when he was well compensated.

He was a patient hunter. He would be back.

The rat poked its head out. Its tiny nose twitching, whiskers wiggling, smelling something new in the air.

At ground level along the exterior wall of the tower, a slender section of mortar had deteriorated leaving a splendor opening. An entrance into a slightly larger subterranean network of tunnels. A network seldom visited by rodents these days, and those that do are usually hungry enough to brave the inherent risks.

The tower, you see, is a large death trap. Rodents that enter seldom return.

This particularly tiny intruder was overcome with hunger. He had gone so long without food that his tiny body, once racked with pain, was now accustomed to the sensations of his tiny being cannibalizing itself from within. A familiar scent faintly graced his nostrils outside, and at that moment his decision was made for him.

The tiny burglar darted from his final hostel within the wall out into what unknown dangers awaited. He scurried to the edge of a crate and peeked around the corner. Relatively certain he was alone the tiny mouse sprinted across the open floor to a small open box.

It paused for a moment. Listening. Smelling. The room was silent and the air was clear. His prize lay inside the small box. With careful slow steps he made his way around the wooden wall and stepped into the dark void.

So overcome with the primal need to replenish ones substance, the tiny mouse never heard the small hand gently close off his only exit, springing the trap; neither did he recognize that the food on which he now feasted were rotting remnants of rodents past. Rodents who, like he, had fallen into the same trap, weakened by that primal need to survive. At all costs.

The box never moved. Never lifted. Never shifted. It remained where it sat. Undisturbed. Outside the wooden box a larger predator loomed. An enormous shadow to the tiny rat. Something altogether dark and inherently evil began its vile work.

Carefully, slowly, precisely, this large being manipulated the unseen forces; tapping into the ethereal threads of the deep void. None of this the mouse sensed. It simply gnawed away at its prize, replenishing his depleting stores of life.

A moment later something tweaked its large ears. Not a sound, but a sensation. A feeling grew slowly from within and spread throughout. It warmed at first. Comforted. Then tingled. The tiny mouse stopped feasting. He didn't like things that tingled. The tiny nose twitched frantically. Searching for the source of this new and undesirable sensation.

His muscles tensed suddenly and then violently contracted. Something had betrayed him. He no longer had control of himself. His little mind panicked. RUN YOU FOOL! RUN! He would have shouted could mice speak, but in the end it would have done little good.

The tiny mouse curled up on its side. Its head twisting up at the heavens beyond the wooden box, now his tomb.

Suddenly, all the pain ceased. He stared down at the top of the box, from the outside. A flash of confusion, then peace. The pain of mortality fleeting, his consciousness become something greater. He was now something more than what he had been.

Gradually the tiny consciousness became aware of the vast nothing of the void beyond the chaos of the nether. Instinctively it turned to that void. It somehow knew that the nether, and the void beyond, was where it now belonged.

... yet something compelled it to remain.

Nearly a week had passed since Lilith entered Il'galar.

Not long after passing its threshold the mysterious woman began to speak. Her voice soothing, almost kind. Lilith had been slowly gaining a talent for detecting the subtle deceptions in another's speech, thanks in large part to her close connection with the Imp. The woman's manner of speech direct. A quality Lilith had always appreciated. Say what you mean and mean what you say, was an axiom she'd latched onto in her youth.

In the coming days the raven-haired gnome would come to appreciated her candid if at times abrasive nature.

The woman introduced herself as Vallalor. She then explained that she was a fellow Warlock, though she preferred the title Witch as she seldom deals with demons directly. This was her tower. She explained how she was not its first occupier and nor would she be the last, but for the time being it was hers and hers alone.

The few Gnolls that freely wandered the tower are her deeply loyal servants. Those that surround the hill hold no loyalty, as of yet, but largely respect her presence and ignore her passing.

The shelves are filled with all sorts of books on magical studies, she explained. Most of which are rather esoteric treatments of the more 'forbidden' magics.

“A reservoir of dark knowledge.” Is how she had put it. One which she generously opened to Lilith's use. The gnome accepted, though privately remaining skeptical of the witch's intentions.

The woman had gone out of her way to make the gnome feel safe and welcomed. To what end Lilith had yet to discover, but for now she was intrigued. For now she was more than willing to play along; which had been rather easy up to this point.

Lilith was, after all, grateful for the aid Vallalor offered regardless of it being unsolicited. It wounded her pride a little. The tower was warm. The clothing offered her was fair and clean. The food was adequate considering Gnolls largely handled its preparation. It wouldn't hurt to swallow her pride, if only just a little.

There did come a singular moment that gave Lilith cause for alarm. It came on the second day. Vallalor turned Lilith's line of questioning back on her, inquiring of everything about the gnome. For the most part Lilith was more than happy to share. Following her line of questioning it wasn't difficult to surmise the witch's real concern.

Who was your master?

A direct and honest question deserved a direct and honest answer.

The raven-haired gnome marked the page in her book, closed the cover, folded her hands atop the table and began at the beginning. She told her everything, leaving out few of the obvious details. She never mentioned her dreams nor did she dare mention her mentor's Black Grimoire.

The dark tome was safe within her simple pack for now which never left her side. It was the one thing she guarded jealously. It had become her only real possession in life. A personal link to the mind and power of The Grim Master, and he was her lifeline. Her salvation. Its mere existence is a secret she would sooner take to her grave than divulge.

Lilith's frank answer returned to her a rather long an uncomfortable silence. Witch Vallalor's countenance darkened considerably in the passing moments. Lilith could tell there were more pointed questions waiting on the tip of the Witch's tongue, but she bit them back.

A good thing. Lilith would have hated to be forced to test her mettle against the witch at this point, when everything had be going so smoothly.

In a show of artful diplomacy, Vallalor shifted the direction of the conversation. Her countenance lightened. Warmth returned and she again was friendly and welcoming. Never again in the days to follow did she ever raise the subject a new.

Just as well.

The remainder of her time, thus far, had passed without incident. More and more each day the odd tower and surrounding woods were beginning to feel more like home. The Witch offered her personal tutelage in whatever study Lilith sought, and the gnome was keen to take advantage of that offer.

At the bottom of the tower a rather large family of rats had taken up residence. The witch suggested she make use of them as test subjects. In a single day and a half the population had been culled by the gnome while the Witch stood to the side, giving direction and offering counsel where needed.

The tiny soul drifted in space, spinning itself into a tiny glowing pinpoint of blue light. With measured patience, practice, and no small amount of talent, Lilith guided the tiny soul into the space between the palms of her hands.

Focused, she pulled the unseen threads of shadow drifting from the void. Seizing its power, channeling it, concentrating it into the open palms of her hands. Ever so gently she touched that darkness within herself, the same fel tainted darkness left behind when her impish minion had been erased and their bond shattered. She pushed further in and touched the subtle Fel energies that laid dormant deep beneath.

With all the power required, Lilith finished her work and compressed the soul. After a moment of great effort a tiny, nearly perfect, deep blue crystal laid in one hand. The light glinted purple off its surface.

It was not the first soul shard she had created, but as of yet it was the most pristine. The process, while tediously laborious, was becoming easier. She held the tiny crystal between two fingers and showed it to her substitute master.

The witch grinned with approval. The victory short lived, Vallalor gestured the gnome upstairs.

“Go fetch your cloak, deary. It is time you graduated to much larger creatures.”

Secretly the witch grinned. It was high time she tested the gnome. Time to discover just what sort of little monster she had been cultivating. A two fold purpose, tonight would be her first major step toward bending the gnolls of Galardell Valley to her will.

Blood will soon flow as terror stalked the darkness.

Blood did indeed flow.

As the week wore on the raven-haired gnome began to take more and more to her new role. A terror that stalked the darkness.

In the beginning she found the notion unbelievable. Gnolls were such large and fearsome creatures. How in the fel is a small gnome going to strike fear into the hearts of such reckless creatures? The Witch insisted that they merely observed for the first two days. They moved from brush pile to tree shadow, simply watching.

At first it was like watching mindless beasts hoot and howl at each other over scraps, but soon a pattern started to emerge. There was a method to their madness. They were establishing an order of respect. Lilith began to understand their methods, at least on some superficial level, and she began to see their intelligence.

"Where there is intelligence, there is also fear. Fear of the unknown. Shake up their world. Give them a reason to fear and you can control them. Become that reason of fear and you will own them." She raised a cautionary finger. "But take care. Go too far and they will hate you, scorn you, rebel against you, and one day seek your head. Fear is a great tool. A powerful motivator and an effective shield, but misuse it and like any other great power it will be the end of you."

Near the end of that second day the witch patted Lilith gently on the shoulder. Saying not a word she silently drifted away. The gnome knew she was there. She wouldn't leave such a promising student to the wolves. Not yet anyway. Lilith could see it in her eyes. The Witch saw potential in her. She had plans.

For now however those plans didn't matter. For now Lilith was taking every bit of instruction the woman was willing to give and for now that much was enough.

Lilith crouched in the brush. The sun had begun its fall behind the red mountains. Darkness was swiftly falling. From a short distance she watched a small group of Gnolls, five in total, set their camp for the night. It was a strange affair to behold, but all the while Lilith's mind was elsewhere.

Images of her Dark Master and his harsh lessons drifted through her memory. They mingled with things taught to her by the Witch. Somewhere in the deeper recesses of her mind the Dark Grimoire appeared. It's pages fluttered, settling on a particular section filled with runes, circles, lines, and all manner of ritualistic markings. In her mind she saw them and read from each page. Before she realized it, her finger began tracing a few of the elements in the air just above the hard packed clay earth. In her mind, those runes and marking began to glow off the pages.

Something new was taking form. Something bold, exciting, fresh and yet unproven in her hands. She saw the ritual in her mind's eye for what it was; a dark sacrifice of life and blood in exchange for a much darker power. A fel and forbidden power. Even still she did not fully understand it. Prudence dictated that she abandon the notion.

...but then, when she had been prudent in the past it only led her to misery and near-ruin.

Throwing caution to the wind, Lilith embraced this new unfamiliar, untested, unproven form of magic. Though her eyes were open, her vision returned to the scene of the Gnolls before her.

Darkness encroached on the camp.

That campfire, she thought, won't keep any of you safe. She purposefully blinked. A red haze drifted over her vision much as it had weeks ago in that strange Tower of odd gnomes in Elwynn.

Lilith permitted herself a wicked little grin as she that darkness deep within her.

The morning dawned on a horrific scene of the bloody massacre that had taken place the night before.

In the twilight hours, drunken with adrenaline, gorged on blood, the raven-haired gnome found her way down to the small lake below Stonewatch Falls. Down to where Lake Everstill drained. The usual group of murlock that gathered by its shores gave the crimson drenched little creature a wide berth as she made her way by.

Lilith plunged herself headlong into the waters, submerging herself. There she floated for a moment. The noise of the falls playing background to the sound of her heart racing. It accompanied that now unintelligible voice, that dark feeling deep within her that now sang a tune of satisfaction. Somehow, she felt sated as never before.

The gnome's eyes opened. Through the wavy glass of water she spied a familiar form standing at the water's edge. Cautiously Lilith emerged. The Witch studied her with a placid stone expression that telegraphed nothing. The gnome stood near her by the shore.

"In my..." The witch started, but paused for emphasis. "... considerable experience, I have only once witnessed the power you so recklessly displayed last night. I have dabbled in it myself, but never to an extent as you." Lilith hung on her words, trying to decide of the witch was proud of her accomplishment or gravely disappointed.

"You are like a child wielding firecrackers beside a store of blackpowder." Her gaze fell heavy upon the gnome. Lilith steeled herself, hoping she was ready for whatever the witch might throw at her.

The witch took a knee before the gnome and grinned wickedly. "What you summoned last night is called Blood Magic. It's mysteries remain hidden even from me. However I can still guide you a little further. If you wish to understand it, even better if you wish to master it, then I can guide you to one who may... may... instruct you."

Lilith wasn't ready for that. So far the Witch had been extremely supportive of the eager little gnome. So much so that for a while now Lilith had been waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop. As of yet, it still hadn't. She was beginning to wonder if it ever would, or maybe she was being overly cautious.

Lilith grinned. "I would very much like that." She gazed down at herself, still fairly stained crimson thought the bulk of the gore had washed away. "It feels, somehow, ... right."

"Very well then." The witch nodded with a sigh. "But not until you've completed your other works. You still have a long way to go to master crystallizing souls to harnessing their power."

Lilith smirked, appearing almost as a child at play... if not for the mess. "Yes, I know Val. Consumption of the life force is my next hurdle. And then there are the basic curses..."

The witch chuckled in her own husky way. She handed over a wash cloth and soap. "Clean up well. Then come up for food. You'll need a hearty breakfast for the day I have planned."

Lilith took the items and slipped back into the waters to waist depth. A part of her groaned, wanting nothing more than to fall atop her bedding and sleep the day away. The other part of her giggled, excited to get back to her work. As she scrubbed the red from her flesh and out of her clothing, she couldn't help but grin. She felt as though a major hurdle had finally been cleared.

She could now confidently call herself Warlock. The darkness rolled deep within her even now, and though it had been sated it yearned for more. She knew that was the fel that hid within expressing itself. A chill ran up her spine realizing that the euphoria she was feeling was its slow corruption.

She was now on the cusp of greatness. She could feel it. Now was the time to be wary, lest the very powers she is wrestling to command swallow her whole.

What a marvelous adventure.

The merciless slaying of Gnoll continued until the dusk of the third day. The new little monster had gorged her fill of blood and slaughter, for now. She had broken several personal boundaries into completely new territory.

The fel power within had also grown strong. The darkness inside also fed upon the blood spilt. Unnatural fel darkness covered the whole of her eyes when she hungered. The power, abilities, spells that came at first with effort now took effort to restrain. Voices continually spoke to her from the deep dark, whispering horrific secrets and terrible delights. Great calm and focus became her new lessons so that she could learn to quiet the demons, but they were never truly silent.

Their faint whispers soon became a comfort to her, much as the ethereal presence of her Dark Master had been. Only on occasion now did she feel an unseen eye watching her. The sensation often sent a chill down her back or made the fine hairs on her neck stand on end. She embraced the sensation, supposing that it must be her beloved Grimm One checking her progress.

On occasion she wondered if he were pleased. Then she'd return to her never ending work of mastering another newly discovered dark skill.

By the third day the slaughters had ceased. Now she only hunted particular gnolls. This in an effort to learn restraint, control, and to hone her senses. Each day she returned to the falls a little less bloody, and each morning the Witch gave Lilith a new trait to seek out. The Witch, Valalor, demanded an item as proof and each time that very specific item changed. The ultimate trophy for Lilith remained the same. The flayed skins of her prey.

The little raven-haired gnome learned to flay their flesh quickly and efficiently. She learned the value of the proper knife, delicately honed, and precise spellwork. Soon she took to skinning the gnoll in its entirety, taking to the task quite naturally. Each day she returned with a cleaner more whole pelt. A trophy for the day.

At the end of this, the ninth day since her first gnoll slaughter, the Witch spoke to Lilith as the gnome voraciously consumed her nights' dinner.

"I have one final task to give you, Lilith." The gnome lowered her utensils and listened. Large pretty green eyes fixed on the fair woman across the table.

"No more gnolls. There is little else they can teach you, my little raven." Lilith's ears perked. It was a new name the witch had just given her. Was it meant as merely a pet name, or a sort of title? Lilith pushed the query aside and listened carefully.

"Tomorrow you must leave this place. Journey to the blasted lands south. Near the southern edge of the Nethergarde Keep at the base of the hill beneath its wall you will find a cave. Enter there and seek a set or crimson robes made from a peculiar type of cloth. Return to me with these robes, Warlock."

Lilith's mind turned, the gnomish gears in her head grinding. Why? What were these robes? Was she finally finished with me? Trying to get rid of me? Lilith stilled herself, releasing a long calming breath. She recognized the sudden paranoia. The echo of the many quiet voices in the back of her mind. Her demonic little peanut gallery, she so often and so fondly considered them.

Lilith spoke not a word, but simply nodded her head. She would play her game. So far it has only brought her good fortune. In the past weeks she had seen herself grow by leaps and bounds, but in the past few days she's felt the opposite. Stagnate. Only recently had she considered that it may be time to part ways. Convenient that the Witch now gave her this final assignment. Apparently she had been thinking along the same lines.

Just as well. She had neglected her study of the dark grimoire. The voices often chattered to her, tempting her to open its dark pages and feed on its mysteries. She wanted to, needed to, but revealing it to the Witch was too much of a gamble. It was the one trump card she felt she had, and it would do her no good to play it just yet.

The next day Lilith set out just before dawn, leaving behind the usual attire of robes she had grown accustomed to wearing in favor of a fine set of purple trousers, a white blouse, and a fine purple vest. She wrapped a deep purple cloak around her shoulders and shoved a purple swath of cloth behind her belt, perfect for a makeshift mask should one be required. She was also so fond of the regal color.

Last but not least she placed the strap of a new satchel across her body that sat comfortably on her hip. Inside a few basic supplies for the road, and the precious dark grimoire.

Morning's progress was slow, making her way deeper into the Red Mountains. Eventually she came across the high road that was rumored to be there. It passed over the Red Mountains and was once a well traveled highway. Now it lay deserted, mostly forgotten. The worn flagstones having seen better days.

Trees were sparse at these altitudes, but the brush was still abundant. Especially along the mountain highway. She reached the plateau of a fairly arduous climb. The road tabled off for a good span, and looking southwest she could see down into the valleys, glens and glades below. The red peaks of Tower Il'galar stood out among the green tree tops. She spotted a nearby tree and sat in its shade for a long rest, catching her breath.

She admired the simple beauty of it all. The red rock and soil clashing with the green patches of trees and foliage. Very picturesque. It hid well the dangers within. As the sun drifted over head, in the shade of a thin tree, she pulled out a few supplies to drink and eat, as well as the black grimoire.

Chewing on a bite of bread she opened the book in her lap and rather casually flipped through its pages. So many wonderful secrets. She thought. An idea came to her.

Wondering if she might be able to compel the book to show her what she desired, not only what it thought she needed, Lilith put the rest of the bread in her mouth and pulled free her favored flaying knife. She closed the book and considered its black cover.

What an interesting leather. She caressed the binding. I'd almost wager it was some sort of demon's skin. The book had an ethereal intelligence about it. Whether it was due to some crafty spell work or the Grimm Master had actually infused the soul of a demon into his dark tome was unclear.

Nevertheless it spoke to her. Not audibly, nor mentally like the other voices. It spoke to her deeply, in a familiar unspoken language. That of pure raw emotion. It was a similar sensation felt when she touched the darkness with, and more so when she penetrated that darkness to caress the fel beneath. It was still difficult to discern the two, but she was learning.

Lets try a sacrifice. Lilith gripped the hilt in one hand and wrapped her other hand around the cool steel of the blade. She closed her eyes and muttered a phrase in the demonic tongue. She was becoming moderately proficient in the esoteric language.

She paused for a moment with a curious thought. Never one to be religious, she wondered if what she muttered might be thought of as a prayer within certain holier circles. She smirked at the notion. There she was, sitting rather serenely, reverently cradling what could be thought of as a book of scripture in her lap, supplicating for greater enlightenment of a being far greater than she.

What was the word they might use? She thought a moment. Heretic. That might be it. "Heretic." She uttered the word. She smirked slightly, deciding she was rather fond of how it sounded. Others would throw it as an insult. She would wear it as a mantle.

She gathered her errant thoughts and refocused her will. Her intent. She uttered the demonic phrases once again, this time distilling them into a clearer picture of her desire. As she did so, she closed her eyes and reached for the darkness within. She pulled the blade from her grip, slicing her palm open. It was the first time she had ever deliberately opened her own flesh. It took no small amount of courage and force of will, but she had done it.

She allowed her crimson fluid to coat her hand, then pressed it to the black cover and finished her supplication. She felt the book connect to some part of her. It understood. It wanted her to open the cover. Following its instinct, Lilith opened the tome and began thumbing through its pages, stopping where the book told her.

There it was, obvious as day. The description of what she had desired. The red robes the Witch had requested. They were listed here as a sort of relic. An item enchanted and donned by a particular kind of sorcerer. He was long dead, his death a mystery, but his robes were taken and hidden away along with a few of his other artifacts.

This is her end game. Lilith thought. The Witch wants these robes, and once she has them I'll be of no use. In fact, I'll be a threat. Her breath caught. I am a threat. Either she can't get to these robes by herself or she's too fearful to take the risk. Either way, a new picture of her fair mentor was beginning to take forming.