World of Warcraft®

Azeroth is once again at war.

On an alternate incarnation of the world of Draenor, the Iron Horde has begun a campaign of conquest, and - guided by the hidden hand of the vengeful ex-Warchief, Garrosh Hellscream - is now marching through the Dark Portal, much as the original Horde did three decades earlier. Humans and orcs must once again stand side-by-side to counter this threat.

Yet as the races of Azeroth prepare for a new war of two worlds, a private war has been brewing. Professor Rakeri Sputterspark, a gnome engineer who was transformed into a mechagnome and "recursed" with demon blood during the war against the Lich King, has been in conflict with the authorities of Stormwind for more than a year, though his stays in the Stockade ("the Hotel Orwyn", as he sardonically refers to it) have been relatively brief, given the nature of his crimes. He is cruel, sadistic, and utterly unrepentant, and he remains free...and in recent days, others have begun to flock to his banner. He has been conducting an underground recruiting drive within the Alliance, finding those people of many races who are dissatisfied with what they perceive as their abandonment by the Alliance leadership, particularly the leadership of Stormwind.

They come from all walks of life: Peasants of Westfall, believing they had been condemned to death from a terrible disease by Stormwind authorities, and saved by the warlock's knowledge; warriors and seers who feel their talents are being misused; and those who believe that King Varian Wrynn is orc-tainted (pointing to his nom de guerre "Lo'Gosh", which means "ghost wolf" in orcish - a product of his time in orcish captivity), which is why he did not dismantle the Horde following the fall of Hellscream.

While Professor Sputterspark has made his share of enemies within the Alliance, he is no friend of the Horde, either; he believes that Varian has sold out to Vol'jin and his Horde, and that the troll Warchief will do to the common folk of the Alliance what the old Horde did in years past. He does not believe that the arrival of the Iron Horde and their use of technology crafted by Garrosh's engineers is a coincidence, and has convinced those who are willing to listen to him that the Iron Horde is a conspiracy hatched between Varian, Vol'jin, and Garrosh.

In the months since nearly dying of a mold sickness in the Stockade, he has been ever watchful for agents of the Stormwind City Watch, who captured (kidnapped, as he would put it) him in Outland following the ritual he conducted in Northrend to resurrect the insane Forsaken priest Sekhesmet of Stratholme, sacrificing the professor's hated enemy (and Sekhesmet's former apprentice), Saavedro, to achieve it.

With Sekhesmet aligning himself with the powerful sorcerer-lord Imperon Showdah and the Lluchduu Ocheliad, whose influence reaches to the highest levels of Azerothian society, and with the Watch and their allies in the wings to disrupt his plans or deny him his freedom, the professor has formulated a plan to protect him from his myriad enemies. He has suppressed (though not entirely abandoned) his racist views of other races for the sake of unity, aligning with other powerful warlocks who have studied the darkest mysteries of their powers, following in the path of the Black Harvest. Through his recruiting efforts, many disenfranchised people - gnomes and humans predominantly, though some dwarves, elves, a few draenei, even the odd pandaren or two - have pledged themselves to his command, believing him to be a gnome of great vision.

With these allies at his disposal, the professor has begun work on the creation of a sanctuary for himself and his followers, one that could be protected from any attempts at assassination or kidnapping by his enemies - and he sees that the work will begin in the world beyond the blood-red Dark Portal.

He has called his sanctuary "Shadowgarde"...

I am following this with deep interest.))

Our new war has gone on for a little over two weeks, Rakeri Sputterspark wrote in his journal. He was seated in his rented room at the Scarlet Raven Tavern in Darkshire, a place of some solitude while still relatively close to Stormwind - and to the battlefield in the Blasted Lands. He looked up over his spectacles at the door, hearing a knock. The innkeeper brought up a glass of wine, and Rakeri nodded to her as he handed her five silver pieces. The woman left, closing the door behind her.

I have no doubt that by the end of the year, he continued writing, we will be on the world beyond the altered Dark Portal. A lot of people are saying that because our invaders are orcs, they must be from Outland, but the Dark Portal in Hellfire Peninsula has been severed. Magi on the other side ensure that people can still travel to and from Outland, that the broken world is not lost like we believed it had been when the expedition went through the first time. He stroked his bearded chin for a moment, then shook his head to himself. No. These are "mag'har", the orcs not corrupted by the Blood Curse - and there were not a whole lot of those left in Outland. But the numbers seen in the Blasted Lands rival that of our armies in Northrend. Thousands have come out from the Portal, and for every one slain, ten more come through. There is also a sizable force taking up position in the halls of the haunted mountain.

Rakeri opened a belt pouch and picked out a felweed cigar, lighting it with a hint of fel-flame from his fingertip, before he continued writing. There have been rumors spreading from witnesses who attended Hellscream's trial at the Temple of the White Tiger in Pandaria, about bronze dragon activity. Given the number of orcs that have come through, far more than have lived uncorrupted in Outland for the last...thirty years or so, this seems likely - we're dealing with some sort of change in time. The fact that it involves orcs implies that there must be another Draenor on the other side. But why, and why now? Is Hellscream involved? Is this his revenge?

He sat back and let out a tired sigh, taking a long drag from his cigar, with green smoke billowing. The trouble with trying to keep a focus on our visible enemies is that the ones who stay hidden are constantly on the move. Sekhesmet has aligned himself with Showdah, and Genevra and her rabble-rousers continue to beat their chests and swear that "justice" will come. Marennia is not a concern, however...for the moment, anyway. She does not believe me, but she is too bound by her sense of family. She even tried to disown me, but she could not uphold that for very long. My sister is...a naive soul. Too long among humans, is her trouble. He chuckled to himself. Ironic that I have begun to gather a flock of humans, among others, to me. We search for our sanctuary still, our Shadowgarde...I think it lies beyond the Portal. The dwarf seer says that it is in a land of perpetual night. Fitting, given the name.

He took another long drag, and knocked the ash into a nearby chamber pot on the floor. I have made sure to gather builders for the task. We need only await the first move - the travel through the Dark Portal to a new Draenor, or wherever it is we are going...and for that, we need to wait for Varian and Vol'jin to get their acts together. For now, however...our new Council arises from the ashes of the old, having learned from their mistakes. We above all know the consequences of too much, too fast, and we will not be so foolish. We must find our own way, to be above the petty politics of the Alliance...and the Horde, if any of those folk are as tired of their leaders as we are of ours. I doubt it, but....miracles do happen.

I need only wait and see.

A small group gathered in the Twilight Grove in Duskwood, and watched as the professor rode up on his fel-flame dreadsteed, which allowed him to see the taller members of that group.

"You have waited for some time," Rakeri said without preamble, "to see whether I would make good on my pledge to build us a place of our own. Soon, it will be time to do just that." He pointed to the southeast. "The Iron Horde invasion has been halted, and now I leave for the Blasted Lands with two magi, to assist the joint expeditionary force that will take the fight to them. Once my work with them is done, and a suitable place has been picked out, I will instruct the magi to open the portals, and bring you to me."

"So we'll begin the work at last?" one of the human builders asked.

Rakeri nodded. "We will have our sanctuary. Free of the apathy of Stormwind, from the petty political concerns of the Alliance. Soon, Shadowgarde will rise, and we will prosper in its wake." He gestured to the two magi - one gnome, one human - on their own steeds, and they rode out from the grove and back to the main road, then shifted east - headed for Deadwind Pass. From there, they rode through the Swamp of Sorrows, then southwards into the Blasted Lands.

The land was strewn with the broken bodies of Ironmarch warriors and smashed demolisher tanks, a scene of death and devastation not witnessed in these parts since the time the Dark Portal reopened to Outland, nearly a decade earlier. Then, it had been demons; now, it was the Iron Horde. Beyond lay their homeworld...and soon it would be where Rakeri would build his fortress. The professor had to admit he was giddy with anticipation; he had waited for this opportunity for what felt like a lifetime, and now...it was in his reach.

The next time Orwyn sent kidnappers after him, he would send them back - in pieces.

Garbed in the most disheveled attire he possessed, Tyvian Reinheart stood amongst the throng watching the professor leave with his companions. Hefting the carpenter's hammer in his hand, he looked thoughtful. It wasn't often he traveled without his robes and mask, but when he did, he was never not surprised how ordinary he seemed to people.

As Rakeri left his field of vision, excited murmurs broke out among the gathering. Hope and excitement prevailed, with talk of "Freedom" on everyone's lips. The professor's ragtag assembly was truly in awe of him, which was good. Perhaps he would stick with them, play the part of follower and let Rakeri lead him to whatever goal he currently had in mind. A sly grin spread across his bearded face as he pictured watching Rakeri from plain sight, finding out plans and possibly tugging a string or two. While Tyvian considered Rakeri a colleague and peer, the gnome did too much outside of his knowledge. He had been there to speak with Rakeri after the gnome had garnered his own Fel corruption. So, Tyvian viewed him as an... almost follower in his footsteps. While he and Rakeri were allies, both tied together in a council to rival that of the Black Harvest, the professor was extremely discreet. So, it was time to rectify that.

Turning to chat with a lovely young Gnomette beside him, he engaged in idle chitchat, but his mind was elsewhere. Already planning, thinking, and cataloging. The business with that elf on the seas was done, Alex had found a more seaworthy member of the organization to take over. Tyvian of course had kept the elven destroyer currently undergoing repairs off the coast of Arathi in secret. Time to await contact from them, if they would, and perhaps he would break off from Rakeri's group in time.

Form his own small place in this 'promised land' of Sputterspark's. Laughing at something the Gnomette said, Tyvian couldn't help keep some of own excitement out of it.

((No goblins in your ranks? Heresy!))

In a clearing of the deep woods in western Shadowmoon Valley, Rakeri knelt and placed his hand on the ground, closing his eyes. This was the place he had envisioned. At last, he nodded to the two magi who had accompanied him. "Open the portals. Let's begin."

The entry to Draenor had been a bloodbath. Though the Iron Horde had vast numbers, the Alliance and Horde forces that came through had experience and determination on their side; Rakeri himself had been a combat engineer at the siege of Ironforge during the Second War. But they had escaped the wretched jungle-hell that awaited on the other side of the Dark Portal, before destroying the gateway using the monstrous war machine. Just like with Outland, they would have to rely on mage portals to return to Azeroth.

How fortunate I had the foresight to bring some with me, he thought with a smile. But as his associates summoned the engineers, his thoughts went to a familiar presence he had felt during the gathering in Duskwood. There had been another there, a warlock; his powers were very similar to his own. Yet he was hidden in plain sight, and Rakeri had not been able to identify him. Could this be one of Orwyn's "sanctioned" warlocks, trying to sabotage his initiative? Or was it one of those like Aschaere or Grim, men who would be considered "allies"?

"Professor, we're here and ready to begin construction," the chief engineer - another gnome, of course - said as she bowed her head to him. "We've managed to gather some of the necessary building materials from back home, but we'll need to harvest some of the local stuff as well."

Rakeri nodded. "Proceed."

The engineers, looking around at this new land, soon got to work, widening the clearing to build their new home.

----

Within a day, they had set up an impressive little camp. It was a humble beginning, to be sure; it was not a grand sanctuary, not yet. But in his mind's eye, he could envision towers rising in the woods, thick walls of polished stone, and workshops producing new inventions.

Rakeri stood in the town hall tent, looking over his map table. Shadowmoon Valley was part of the draenei domain, with their leader, the Prophet Velen, residing in the great Temple of Karabor far to the east, the largest draenei habitat this side of Shattrath. How odd it will be, he mused, to see the Black Temple in its original, unspoiled state. Between his secluded garrison and Karabor were the city of Elodor and the village of Embaari, and also the clan grounds of the Shadowmoon, the clan of Ner'zhul.

Deciding that he would offer what he could to the draenei - who would be repulsed by his "man'ari" powers, but mindful of respecting their new allies from the world beyond the Portal - he stepped from his map table and headed outside, and looked up into the sky. The stars were bright and numerous; this land was bathed in perpetual twilight, and not in dark clouds and raining fel-fire, as it had been in Outland. The irony was not lost on him, and he smiled to himself.

Here, we will begin anew, he thought, a place to protect us from our enemies...

Work proceeded apace on expanding Shadowgarde to a larger fortification. The wooden stockade walls had been replaced by white stone, and the "command tent" was now a human-designed town hall with clock tower. In the courtyard was a fountain, and caravans had assembled among the people who had flocked to his banner. Rakeri had also ordered the construction of two workshops - one for engineers, one for scribes - and the establishment of a mine for gaining raw materials for his engineering projects.

The people training to be his guards had also had their first real trial by fire, as a group of Shadowmoon orcs had come through the forest and attacked, but Rakeri and his men held the line and beat the invaders back with minimal losses of life and no real damage to the buildings inside. The professor was pleased; there was still spirit in these people, after all they had suffered to get here.

Rakeri was seated in the scribe's office near the south gate, writing in his journal. It is everything I dreamed, and more. A secluded spot in a pristine land, a place to work and begin anew. Yet I cannot help but feel uneasy. There is a spy among us, of that I am certain. But who from? The Watch? For all of his faults, Orwyn would not be blind to the fact that a large group of transients and other poor folk from Westfall have suddenly up and left; could he be keeping watch on us, intending to sabotage our initiative? Or is this someone else entirely? I have not heard from my erstwhile "colleague" since the plague was dealt with. Could this be his doing?

He shook his head, chuckling to himself. The events of the last year have made me paranoid, I will admit, but such a mindview has kept me alive thus far, especially considering that there are those who constantly seek my death. I have no doubt that Genevra and her drones will have come through for the war, as will Showdah and his lackeys; of those two groups, the ones who worry me are Genevra's draenei attack dog, Velenkayn, and of course Sekhesmet, who will most certainly have some nefarious plan in mind. There is also that foolish idealist Ketiron, who will have gone with his Horde friends up into the frozen northlands. But he will have his own fun to deal with, one would hope.

The professor paused, listening to the sounds of his people milling about and conducting their business in the courtyard. This is a most fascinating world, from what I have seen of it so far. From my experiences in Outland, I had always wondered what Draenor would look like if it were pristine. There are things that are very similar, but there are also things that are drastically different. Besides the fact that the planet is not blown half to hell and floating in the Nether, of course...

The first thing I noticed, once we were done fighting and running for our lives in the Tanaan Jungle, was the nearly unspoiled state of Shadowmoon Valley; no Hand of Gul'dan and lakes of fel lava...just clear waters and eternal twilight, our way guided by the light of the stars. Karabor and the other draenei settlements are like jewels in the moonslight, though the temple has suffered the scars of war from a recent Iron Horde attack. I spent a great deal of time at the Teluuna Observatory near Embaari Village, studying astronomy there. It is a monument to the architectural skill of the draenei, far grander than anything that even we gnomes could build.

I have recently returned from my sojourn into Gorgrond, a land of jungles in the south and volcanic desert in the north, dominated by the fortified Iron Docks; many strange creatures, some familiar and some not, live in those areas. There were the things I remember from Outland, like gronn, ravagers, and sporebats that flutter around the mushroom forests beneath the water (it seems every ocean on this planet has a fungus problem; indeed, the region known as Zangarmarsh in Outland is one of the seas, separating Nagrand from Frostfire Ridge, the Frostwolf lands to the north). This region, and Frostfire to the west, corresponded with the Blade's Edge Mountains in my maps of Outland, but the mountains here are "proper" mountains, not forests of spikes protruding from cliffsides.

He looked across the pathway at the engineering workshop, where his gnomish engineers were teaching their trade to some humans and draenei who had come here. One of his recent recruits, during a visit to the city of Elodor, was a draenei of the Artificer sect, who wished to learn the ways of Azerothian engineering. He smiled to himself, thinking the draenei had come to the right place, as he continued to write. Later today, I will leave for the forests to the west, known here as Talador, and in Outland as Terokkar Forest. Rumor has it that the Iron Horde has laid siege to Shattrath, and also to the mausoleum city of Auchindoun. Another place, like Karabor - or the Black Temple, as I know of it from Outland - that I have always wanted to see...

Tyvian had been busy, watching the coming and going of Rakeri, occasionally slipping out to survery the nearby land and gain some valuable intelligence of where he was. Draenor was vast and, unspoiled it seemed. Such a different time, he listened with rapt attention when he had questioned one of the Draenei refugees that had come with Sputterspark here. So, I'm trapped here for now, little bother. It was no small deed to rip a small gateway open every once in a while, send Zipzil his imp through the rift and shut it. Sure, the Professor would probably find the traces of these magics, but would probably assume it to be a spy or Shadow Council infiltrator. He had halfheartedly wiped the runes from the dirt, and left the ashes where they lay once the rift had closed. No need to hide 'everything' really.

That attack on the Garrison from the Shadowmoon had been quite trying. Tyvian had had to restrain himself from annihilating every Orc that crossed his path with felfire. Instead he had to pick his battles carefully. Using that lumber axe was crude, but oddly satisfying as he had somehow got a strike in. Is that how soldiers and warriors feel every time? Such a rush! Still he was no soldier and admittedly had been lucky to survive that encounter. So he had taken cover and watched from afar as the professor did his work.

As a human, he was safe from suspicion as a Shadow Council infiltrator, but spy? No no no. Best to be careful and lay low as possible. That was currently why he was sitting on a scaffold, hammering nails into a joist and chatting with the other builders. His father's carpentry shop had trained him well in his youth, and came in handy for times just like this. Zipzil was gone, back to Azeroth to gather his belongings, send reports to Aschaere and return with reagents he would need.

After all, Sputterspark always has an ace up his sleeve somewhere, and while I look for that, I might as well glean all I can from this uncorrupted Shadow Council. Gul'dan was out there, and what that Orc must know... Tyvian smiled, he was going to enjoy this world for the time being, and in order to get around...

Tyvian hadn't forgotten about that modified shredder in the back of the Professor's workshop. Maybe he won't mind if I 'convince' a few of his engineers to reproduce one...

Rakeri stood on the upper level of Teluuna Observatory, gazing through one of the telescopes. Next to him was a Titan archive module he had recovered from Ulduar, which was recording the astral charts. He remembered hearing that Azeroth had been visible from the summit of the Black Temple, implying that Draenor (and thus Outland) was close enough to Azeroth to be visible in the sky. From what he had observed here, however, this was not the case. He wondered if that meant there was no Azeroth in the changed timeline that had produced the new Draenor, or if it was merely an effect of Outland's floating in the Twisting Nether that made it appear close to Azeroth.

Close is a relative term, he thought with a slight smile. It's still another world. As is this...

Scouts who had taken a trip up into Frostfire Ridge had reported back; that blood elf meddler had set up his own base in the snows there. "Saavedar", he called it. Rakeri was amused at the sentimentality. Saavedro is dead and gone...but of course it would be you, Ketiron, who goes on the idealistic crusade in his name. Amazing how you convinced the orcs in your guard to let you name their fortress for a human. He had no doubt that Ketiron would know he was here, and send spies to Shadowgarde. He looked forward to it, in fact.

Looking down from his telescope and across the valley, Rakeri's eyes narrowed as he saw a familiar figure riding on the back of a talbuk, rising towards Karabor. He wore blue-black plate armor with skulls on the spaulders, and a frostforged crown. Velenkayn. I should have realized he would turn up sooner or later. Another sentimental idiot, thinking he has a second chance to save Draenor. He snorted. Expect a warm welcome, my frozen friend, if you ever try to cross me... He stepped back from the telescope and began walking down the ramp to ground level.

A matter of interest he had discovered here in Shadowmoon was the rise of a group calling itself the Sargerei, made up of draenei who believed that Velen's failing visions were the result of betrayal, and now aligned with the Shadow Council to accept the offer of power given to the original eredar by Sargeras in ages past. It had been Shadow Council, not Iron Horde, that were working to take Auchindoun, he had seen. It seemed that Gul'dan had not wasted time since escaping the Dark Portal...a formidable warlock, indeed, able to turn even draenei to his cause.

Possibilities, he thought. Endless possibilities.

Far to the north, in the tangled jungles of Gorgrond, General Taeril'hane Ketiron pulled his battleaxe free from the body of the infested orc he had just slain, one of a pile of them in his work up here...then unslung an old Shado-Pan dragon gun he had taken with him from Pandaria, and torched the bodies. But his mind was not on the mission he was carrying out...it was on the lunatic he had spotted earlier that morning, accompanied by a huge ogre in the armor of an imperial gladiator.

A day earlier, back at his garrison of Saavedar in Frostfire Ridge, he had listened with horrified fascination at the report given by one of his scouts sent to find Rakeri Sputterspark's fortress, and of the sizeable power base he had recruited to help him build it. He was dismayed to hear that he was able to recruit draenei, both from the Exodar and from here on Draenor, into his service, as well as some arakkoa, some orcs, even a goblin captured during his travels - left to slave the day away in the fortress' engineering works. The mine and lumber mill worked constantly to produce the wood, stone and metal that the artisans used to build the grand walls and towering keep that Rakeri made into his sanctuary.

What had truly disturbed him, however, was that these people followed the warlock willingly. Surely draenei would not follow the will of a "man'ari" like him? But another thought occurred to him: What if the draenei were in fact Sargerei, the servants of the Shadow Council? A fel-caster as powerful as Rakeri would be able to attract such folk to his banner. But surely the gnome was not that insane...was he?

"I thought I would find you here."

The Blood Knight Master turned, axe in hand...and looked up at the thunderous bulk that shadowed him, obviously not the source of the taunting voice. With a huge meaty hand, the ogre picked Ketiron up by his head and threw him across the jungle clearing, axe flying from his hand and embedding into the grass. Rakeri emerged from behind one of the creature's tree trunk-sized legs, grinning as he leaned on his ember-charged staff. "You should be more careful sending your spies, Ketiron. Did you think that because I am often occupied on business outside of Shadowgarde, that must mean I'm blind?" He laughed. "What did they think of my new digs? Impressive, isn't it? Now I have an army of sharp-eyed enforcers standing between me and potential assassins that you and your friends in Stormwind might send after me."

"That will...not save you, wretch," Ketiron gasped; the impact from being tossed by the ogre had resulted in broken ribs, and he held a mail-armored hand on his abdomen to run a little Light through to mend it. He would have to return to Saavedar for a time...

"You still think you can harm me? You can't even stand up." Rakeri stood on top of Ketiron's chest, causing the sin'dorei warrior to scream in agony, distracting him from his attempts to heal his injury. "Today is not the day you die, Ketiron. But your time will soon come. You are not the only one with spies, my friend...by the way, how is your lovely wife and your charming young son? It would be a shame if anything happened to them. It's a harsh world they live in now, you know."

Rage rising up in him and giving him strength, Ketiron's hand shot out and grasped Rakeri by the throat. Sitting up despite his pain, he hurled the warlock right into his hulking enforcer. Rakeri bounced off the ogre's ample stomach and collapsed to the ground. Dazed, Rakeri lifted himself up by his hands and shook his head to clear it. The ogre, enraged, drew his huge sword and prepared to advance on the fallen elf, but the professor snapped, "No!" The ogre looked over at him, confused - not an uncommon expression - but obeyed, lowering his sword and standing protectively over him.

Coming to his feet and picking up his staff, Rakeri glared murderously through his burning green eyes. "You'll pay for that, elf. When this war is over, your ears will be flying like pennants from my walls, and your head will be stuffed and mounted like a hunting trophy...but I will make you scream for an eternity before I let you die." Triggering the stone around his neck, Rakeri and the ogre were suddenly gone in a burst of magic.

Lying back in the grass, hate and pain coursing through him, Ketiron only dimly heard the footsteps of approaching guards from the nearby outpost...

Lady Areinnye Ketiron - one of many elves to take the nom de guerre "Scourgebane" in the wake of their land's downfall - was more proactive with field work than her husband, who remained to oversee operations in Saavedar. Her current task was to observe the fortress of Shadowgarde and scout out its weaknesses. Once that was done, it was hoped that the troops of Saavedar would eventually march on the keep, put its master's head on a pike, and burn the place to the ground.

Hope, as it turns out, does not win wars. Areinnye's other rangers were dead, shot by gnomish snipers on the walls, and Areinnye had taken a hit herself. She had an inkling as to why she had not been killed outright like the others: The warlock wanted her alive...probably to do the honors himself. Coward hides behind his walls, she thought, leaving his minions to do his bidding. She stood on the branch of a tree outside the fortress walls, bow in hand...waiting. It wasn't Quel'Thalas, but a tree was a tree...

A shot from below went right through the branch she was standing on, causing her to collapse a good fifty or so feet to the ground - though she was able to land on her feet, another shot came from nowhere to blast through her right knee, causing her to topple to the ground in agony. In a hiss of crackling energy, the shooter emerged. It was Rakeri himself, with a stealth field generator on his belt and a smoking obsidium bolt gun in his hand. "You must think me an idiot, to not see this coming," he said, holding the gun to her head. "Of course, it's not going to do you any good, as the only person in your guards who knows where I am...is you."

Areinnye glared at him and snarled through gritted teeth, "Taeril'hane knows where you are. And so does Velenkayn...did you think we had no idea? No resources here?"

"Perhaps, but it will avail you nothing. It's only Velenkayn's word against mine with the draenei here, and I think they'll be more inclined to accept my offering of service, as I know the enemy within their ranks better than they do. Sometimes the best way to fight a warlock is to be one, after all." He laughed. "I had hoped to have your husband here so that I could make his ears into pennants from my keep walls. But you'll have to do for now. His will join yours, soon enough - as will your little son's."

The chill of terror in her spine outmatched her rage. She was not long to live, she knew, and she accepted that. And Taeril'hane would be able to defend himself against this madman. But their son...she had accepted why he had wanted to bring Ord'taeril here, but now she wondered if that was a mistake. Would Taeril'hane be able to protect him, too? Or would --

A heavy foot - that of the warlock's ogre bodyguard - slammed down hard on her back, pinning her to the ground. Tying a sash over her mouth to keep her screams from being heard, Rakeri unsheathed his fel-forged dagger and began to slowly, sadistically, cut off one of her ears. Agony throbbed through her skull as she screamed ineffectually against the makeshift gag. After an eternity, he had removed one, and then worked on the other. Her mane of white hair began to soak in the blood pouring from the sides of her head.

Rakeri nodded to the ogre, who kicked her over onto her back and put his foot down on her chest. The warlock knelt next to her head, and put his blade right up against her neck. "Happy Winter Veil, Lady Ketiron," he said, grinning in triumph. With a flick of his wrist, he slit her throat, and her lifeblood began to pour into the blue-green grass.

The last thing Areinnye saw, as the warlock and his brute stepped back to watch her die, was a sea of stars, even though she was sure it was only noon...

----

After a moment, Rakeri put his fingers to her wrist, checking for her pulse. He nodded to himself after a moment, satisfied that she was dead. "Burn the body," he commanded his bodyguard, as he held her ears in his hand.

"Yes, master," the ogre replied, as he scooped up the corpse in his arms and walked away. Rakeri followed soon after, heading back into the gates and up to his keep, where he would clean up. I'll leave him to wonder, just as I did the Watch with that pathetic Highborne, he thought as he entered his private chambers, opening one of the drawers. He laid Areinnye's long, tapering ears inside; the only other item in there was Caro'thel Vendross' ring, a family heirloom dating back to the War of the Ancients - his trophy from that kill in the great arena in Dire Maul. The Watch still had him listed as missing, as far as he knew...after all, there was no body.

Just as there would not be in this case...