World of Warcraft®

Days passed. The estate's windows were drawn open, music could be heard echoing softly throughout the large manor house. Trenetir Moradinel sat in an open garden reviewing piles and piles of news, bills of lading and papers that had gone untouched during the madness. Amongst them he found one that brought a smile to his lips:

"Sin'dorei, if you wish to see Trenetir Moradinel disposed of, bring him to Thousand Needles.
A wrathguard stands ready to take delivery of him.
Leave your name, the mad man, and walk away with a large chunk of coin."

"Francil!" He called, the servant appearing, "Get me Chalar, and the rotters, we're going to take a trip."

"A trip Ser?"

"Yes it seems we're wanted in Thousand Needles."

The dank musk of the catacombs surrounded the twisted little gnome like a warm welcoming blanket. It took some time for trial and error, but her current rendition of robes and head piece were finally complete and she needed to give their enchantments a full run through before she inserted herself into any dangerous situation.

The darkness of the deep chambers clung to her as she called upon the latent shadow enchants. She could feel the thick inky blackness coat her features, effectively masking her. She could barely contain her excitement. It's working. It's all working exactly as planned. She allowed herself a wickedly indulgent grin of twisted, gnarled teeth.

Bracing her fingers against her wicked spines of her ornate head dress she focused on the dark soul trapped within. "Gooood." She muttered hoarsely. "Kupnam." She commanded to the imp lingering in the shadowed corner of the tomb chamber. It chattered at hearing its name. "Gather the remnants and lay them out."

Kupnam squealed, chattering. "For the ritual, masster?"

Raven turned with an ugly snarl. "Of course for the ritual, you cretin." The imp recoiled fearfully. "Have the others gather my items and bring me my new staff. Its crystal needs charging." Kupnam scampered off around a darkened corner. He reappeared moments later with a small force of imps in tow.

The squat gangly creatures scurried about the chamber, each with their own task to perform. Some hastily scratched the outline of the ritual circle and runes to be used. Others simply held aloft large satchels while yet more unpacked various items, and hurried along placing them meticulously throughout the chamber. Everything unfolded smoothly with expedience, all under the unwavering, unforgiving, eye of the wicked little warlock. Soon everything was in place, as per Raven's careful instructions, and when their work was finished her little minions rejoiced that only two among them had suffered her wrath for the mistakes they'd made.

The macabre ritual was set. The circles drawn, lines intersected, runes scrawled in place. With a gesture the candles placed throughout the chamber and the circle flamed to life, each dancing a sickly green hue. Her voice rose slowly as she spoke, hoarse and grim, with carefully practiced enunciation.

"Thal'kituun. Ei nath-kiel. Modas!" She commanded, casting her hands forward. The flicker of the candles danced as if in response, growing brighter.

"Achor she-ki orah. Modas, ei nath-kiel!" She exclaimed, her voice began to echo, drawing with it other voices from some other realm. Raising her hands as with a powerful summoning gesture she declared one last time.

"Modas kiel!"

The imps at her side held up her gnarled wooden staff, specially prepared for just such an occasion. It head curled wickedly back on itself where it aloft a green crystal as if between two sharp digits. Raven gripped the staff with both hands. Calling upon the fel energies that constantly surged within she drove its end into a soft patch of exposed earth. The resulting gesture unleashed a flashing torrent of corrupted energies that swirled around the ritual circle.

The flames of the candles burned ever brighter. In the swirling chaos the vague image of an unidentified demon spread its burning wings and raised it horned head, its maw of jagged teeth gapped wide. The cluster of imps scattered at the sight of it.

In the bright flash of green light outlined the enormous figure of Raven's fel guard gate keeper, Keegozin, as he stood within the wide doorway behind the warlock. Powerful arms folded, he observed unflinching.

As quickly as it came the torrent was extinguished. The chamber fell to darkness once again. Quietly, unceremoniously, the twisted little warlock stepped from her place at the foot of the ritual circle and casually disappeared into the darkness. The fading glow of the green gem of her staff the only indication of her presence.
-------------------------
[Unseen guest. You dread soul.
Arise! Feast upon your bones.
Arise, you dread soul!
Arise soul!]

Darkness swirled around her thoughts, shrouding her memories. The corpse pressed herself from the earth, raising her desiccated head. Dried aching eyes blinked as she peered up at the unnaturally darkened sky.

Eyes.

She raised a withered hand to her face. The straps that had held her head together were gone. Feeling further, she felt that the once empty sockets were now filled each with their own orb. Furthermore, she could see. She could once again see her own fingers, and hands.

Dried lips parted across yellowed teeth displaying a satisfied grin. She felt the dry leather of her face remold itself as her expressions shifted from suprised, to delight, to confusion.

How... how can this be? How am I able to see again? Where did these eyes come from?
She glanced at her surroundings. Where am I?

She pressed herself up to sit on her hips at first. The core of her shivered as they had the first time she'd been raised. Could it be? Her mind reeled with the implication. Was I.... ? The thought left incomplete. She slowly rose to stand on weak feet and tired, wobbly legs. But she was standing. Gazing about with a better view she recognized her surroundings almost instantly, recalling a vivid memory from her life before her first death.

"Raven Hill." Her raspy voice drolled. It sounded strangely familiar, but not quite like her own. She idly raised a hand to her throat and rubbed, as if massaging the sore muscle would do any good. She lingered for a long moment among the risen corpses the infested the hill. They paid her no attention.

An urge came to her suddenly, like a distant voice that jarred her thoughts. She instinctively turned northward. Raising her arms she summoned the darkness around her, draping as it were a hooded cloak around her shoulders. Silently she urged her weak body forward, each step growing stronger with more confidence.

"I am coming."
-----
Unseen, high above the treeline, drifted a cloaked orb. An ever watchful eye with a distinct purple iris followed the corpse.

With Yuuko firmly locked away in his estate, Trenetir set out to meet his rival, the one known as Grim, in Thousand Needles. The paladin was armored from head to toe, his family blade at his side, the shield of his blood knight calling upon his back. When he arrived he found Grim standing idly, besides a flaming abyssal boredly waiting yet another day. Trenetir smirks as he spots the Ravenlord across the pillar. "Had to bring your pets with you? Are you truly that scared?"

“Would I be scared of a man who doesn't use everything to his advantage? No. Or the man I am expecting?”

“Hardly.”

“What I am surprised about is that no one is dragging you here. “

Trenetir grinned, "You really trusted that they would turn me in, just as I trusted that they would turn -you- in."

“ Trust? Hardly. I made a zero-loss bet that greed would win out against a seldom liked individual of the city. Better odds than going out of my way to make more enemies by killing idiots I snatch off the streets.”

The Blood Knight smiled as he thought about the killings, "Well that's one way to think about it, I thought it was a lark really."

“Guilty pleasure aside, I have to ask, why bother coming here yourself? Why not send your men, mercenaries, bombs...Well, this saves me time.”

“When you want something done right, you must do it yourself.”

Grim reaches up and adjusts his hood, fel sparks crackling between his fingers idly, "I quite agree, and you seem remarkably sane considering out last encounter. A good sign for us both. If I was willing to make you an offer, would you be rational enough to hear it?"

"I am a man of business, it would be foolish not to be willing to listen to an offer."

Grim held up a hand that bursts into felflame. "Good, I prefer words to violence as words and business move far more than corpses."

He stepped closer, "I am listening."

Grim extinguishes the flames and gives a slight bow of the head. "You have enemies and I have something we both desire. I have your ships, which, to your credit, have been nothing but problems to me."

He grinned, "I am a man of business, and they are but tools of business."

"You have access to cities and resources that I have not previously needed. My offer is this, I return your ships, keeping my own and I target only ships that do not fly your colors...”

Trenetir’s interest was piqued. “In return?”

“ You, assist me in finding out who murdered a colleague of mine. Then deal appropriate...matters to him. The only name I know of at this moment, is Battlelord Velenkayn. Draenei of the Alliance. He must have had help though.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "You return my ships, and I agree to help you destroy this... battlelord...and all is -done- between us." He paused before recalling, "I need more."

"Enlighten me as to what you want, I will tell you if you are entitled it."

He laughed, at Grim's cockiness, it reminded him of himself, "You have killed countless of my men and women along the way. I will require... payment for their lives."

Grim can't help but laugh in return, "I see, and how much copper will you require for this? Surely sailors and, pardon my honesty, poor excuses for mercenaries, cost that much. I thought I had given you a fair deal with the promise of targeting only your competition on the seas, but I suppose I can redact that part in exchange for a lump sum payment for damages incurred.” Grim coughed hoarsely.
He laughed again, "No, I will require -both- of those terms. I know of this Battlelord of yours and what he is capable of. He too has powerful allies. For this to be an equitable deal, I am afraid that I -must- insist."

Grim taps his bone mask in thought, weighing possibilities for a moment. "Which allies do you speak of? I cannot see into Shadowgarde anymore, enlighten me and I will base my assumption of pay upon your request and my own assessment.”

"He has allies amongst my people."

"Excellent. All the more reason you should accept then. Further destruction of your enemies and possible business endeavors in -our- future.”

"Then you agree to my terms?"

As soon as you name a price for the lives lost, yes.”

Trenetir paused. He had families to provide for. “Ten thousand Gold.”

“Make it nine and we have a deal. I left you your associate and her Warlock-imitating friend.” Trenetir laughed and crossed the distance between them, extending his hand, "Done." As Grim reached out with his own badly burned fingers, Trenetir asked, "Where are the ships?"

“You'll find your ships off the South-western coast of Tanaris. Dry docked as they are repaired.”

“Repaired? What repairs?” Repairs were more money, more money that Trenetir did not want to spend.

“The repairs that piracy brings. I am not the only pirate on the seas. Consider the repairs as my treat, no cost to you.”

“How much longer til the ships are ready to sail across the sea once more?”

“I would wager...two or three weeks.”

“A week, what is needed for them to be done within the week?”

“Tacking, rigging, and replacing one mast. My organization has all the materials on site, we merely need the time to repair.”

“If you have it all, then surely your men can work around the clock to see that the repairs get done?” Trenetir was growing impatient.

Grim gestured to the abyssal to his right, “ "Men" so much as...”

He eyed the abyssal then looked back to Grim, "Nonetheless I have al lthe confidence that you can have it done within the week."

“Possibly. I will contact you at the end of the week and will expect some information on the Battlelord's allies. Fair, no?”

“Fair, yes. I will expect the gold delivered to my estate by tomorrow.”

“I am a man of my word. I expect you to be a man of yours. Else we will be right back here where we started. “

Trenetir laughed, "It was fun though wasn't it?"

“The thrill of the chase?”

“Quite. I have not had a challenge this close in quite some time.”

"An enemy worth pursuing." Trenetir mused.
Grim started, “Well, I suppose the saying is true then. "Keep your friends close..."”

"And your enemies closer."

“I look forward to our business together. Who knows? After this we might actually find use for each other in other areas.”

“I look forward to doing business with you.”

“You'll have your gold tomorrow. Please leave the delivery boy alive. He might be useful later.
Perhaps I'll keep him.” Trenetir smirked.

Grim turns and strides towards the side of the pillar, "So be it. So long as he's useful." Then promptly bursts into ashes as he takes a gateway back to his quarters.

---
Yuuko had tried to escape, despite the news that Grim was no longer an issue, that the families of the fallen would be cared for, and the ships were to be returned. "She's a lose end." He reminded himself as he left his cell of a room, "Francil!" He called for his servant, "Find me a shadow priest." He smirked as he thought of the possibilities.

Chalar appeared in the cell through her own means. She sighed quietly looking down at the sleeping woman, once her commander, now a prisoner, but she had an obligation. The vision of the night on the ship flashed through her mind. Yuuko had saved her life, something she didn't have to do. A weakness? Yes, but still a debt she wouldn't let go unpaid. After this deed they would face each other on different terms.

The woman stirred, turning just in time to be knocked out by hilt of a sword.

Yuuko woke to the sound of rushing water, her head hurt but it was manageable. She looked around the moss covered rock where she lay. Narrowing her eyes she could tell she wasn't far from the city. She sat up, rubbing her head and noticed a satchel by her feet. Inside were a few travel gems and a note. The note simply said “We are even”. The words vanished as she read them, as if they were for her eyes only.

A duffel bag lay nearby containing some rudimentary armor and a weapon. She frowned at the items, but they were all she had now. Dressing quickly she turned to look in the direction of the city. She shook her head in disbelief at the events that had brought her to this moment. Slowly she turned away and began walking south.

Landing at the remains of the once High Elven town of Tranquillien, the darkly shrouded figure of the forsaken priestess crossed from the now joint Blood Elven/Forsaken post through the Ghostlands and marched her way north along the Dead Scar.

She'd always felt rather at home within the Ghostlands, and especially now as she traveled along the Dead Scar. Perhaps it was the familiarity of the darkened-corrupted atmosphere that she favored, or perhaps the meandering of so many mindless corpses that reminded her of Lordaeron. Whatever the case, she felt strangely at ease. Almost as peace.

As she moved northward the urge within her grew stronger. It was a calling, she knew, a summoning of a lord of Modas beckoning her return. Lord Moradinel. She would be nearing his estate soon. She wondered what the Blood Elf would require of her this time. She also wondered of his state of being since their last encounter... which did not end so well for her, as she recalled.

Yuuko’s travel was slow but steady, keeping away from the main roads and paths. Having nothing more than the few things she found when she awoke discouraged her greatly. He had everything, all her belongings, gold, armor, books; all that had any meaning to her. He even had her mount still stabled at the estate. After a half days travel she made camp just north of a place the humans called Refuge Point, a place that should be safe enough. Her hope was her cryptic message had been understood over the hearthstone and that an AAMS representative would meet with her soon.

After her small tent was setup she took inventory of what she had. The armor was quite cheap, but useful as she had nothing else. The sword was decent weight, but the shield was plain and wooden. The travel gems amounted to about three hundred gold, which she hoped was enough payment for the AAMS. The only other thing she had was her tabard. She unrolled it and gazed at the emblem across the front. Would they think she had betrayed them? She sighed, rolling the tabard neatly and placed it back into the duffle bag. Her order needn’t worry about her; she had been brought into their ranks through a partnership that was beyond her control. Now that, that partnership was dissolved she felt the burden of loyalty lightened; besides she was hardly a threat to any of them.

Her request to the AAMS would be simple, find her a place to vanish, a place where she could hide but yet still have a life. Trenetir had told her that Grim had been taken care, not something he would lie about as she knew he had much hate for the man. This fulfilled her promise to the late captain of the Solstice. Her hatred for Trenetir, she would put aside, with luck he would forget about her, but she would never fail to recall nor forgive him.

Tyvian Reinheart set about his paperwork, writing notices, making preparations, signing requests and double checking monetary figures. Rise at Dawn's increased manpower was starting to become bothersome. Keeping this many scoundrels in check was not a pleasant task. Not four hours ago he had been forced to make an example of one. He knew the shriveled husk of a living creature he had left behind would serve a sufficient incentive for the workers to stay Rise's allowed guidelines.

Trenetir's payment had been taken care of, and the ships were seaworthy again. The two were awaiting Trenetir's people to come take custody. Tyvian hoped no one found the tracking devices stacked inside the wooden figureheads. He needed to keep track of things, just in case. He had bigger fish to fry now, or incinerate, as they were quite big fish. Having to play cat and mouse with this elf was too much effort, and he did not have a usage for the ships that didn't involve Trenetir. He would continue to work with the elf as long as it bore fruit, and if the elf died? No love lost there, simply gain. Ravenblack's orders still stood, and he knew his apprentice would be quite the hound dog to any who crossed him. Ravenblack was a potent ally now, a very potent ally and he would guide her as she needed. Perhaps she'll best even me some day? That would be a sight to see...

Turning in his chair, he picked his bone mask up from the desk and gazed upon it. Worn with time and wear, it truly was decrepit, just like the character he portrayed. He wondered if it would work against this Battlelord. His Eyes of Kilrogg watching the exterior of Shadowgarde monitored Sputterspark's old domain, and Grim knew that if if Sputterspark had been driven from his holdout, that he was either dead or hiding. While he owed Sputterspark no such loyalty, he did owe the loyalty to Aschaere and Alex, so he would either avenge or ensure that Sputterspark's attackers would not think their victory so complete.

It was time to work out how to assault Shadowgarde himself, how to drive this Battlelord from his conquered fortress. The Acherus Knight's would pose slight problems, but he would remind them exactly who reigns control over souls. What kind of magics created those dreadful knights in the first place.

Tossing the mask up and down in his hand, Tyvian smiled to himself. Two nearby imps that were stamping papers with a "Denied" looked up quizzically before shrugging and returning to work. "Draenor is such a splendid place, so kind of Gul'dan to leave so many of his followers unattended, so much of his materials unguarded. I would hate for them to go to waste. A few Sargeri would be quite the spark. I suppose I could steal a few tricks of theirs."

Striding back to table, he scattered the papers across his desk, looking for what lay beneath them. A map of Shadowgarde, drawings and observations from his time hiding there himself. Circled in a black circle from scorch marks, was the rear gate...

"Always a way in."