World of Warcraft®

Eldred Valmy cut the power and stepped from the controls of his sky golem, leaping nimbly down into the snow - careful not to land on any jagged volcanic rocks that might piece his footpaws. All around was white snow, blueish ice, and black rock. Somebody's cosmic vision of Hell, no doubt, he thought with sardonic amusement. He gazed at the desolate scenery through special goggles, zooming his lenses in towards the higher protrusions of rock, and the orcish encampment nearby built into a monstrously huge skeleton. There was a similar encampment, much larger, to the south. It made him shudder to think of what kind of creatures they could have been in life.

His gaze went past the colossal skeleton and out to the west of it, and then zoomed back out to normal view in order to look at his map. The intel he had received back at his tower, hidden in the void along the eastern edge of the spires, indicated that the ogres were gathered in the northernmost reaches, beyond a series of volcanic mines. It would also help in his studies of the magic of this world, and how he could apply it to his own studies. Like many warlocks of late, he had followed the path of the Black Harvest, studying the fel. These ogres' magic, though primitive by Azerothian standards, was no less potent...or dangerous.

Not overestimating your own ability was the mark of a good warlock, in Valmy's view. But occasionally, he liked to gamble - though not nearly as much as he had when he was younger.

----

Seventeen years earlier - "Fortress Gilneas"

"...just like you, Eldred, it's just like you! You disappear into these dens of gambling and other vices and spend my money doing it! I'm of a mind to..."

"...remove me from the inheritance and leave everything to my sister Eirena, who's got a better head on your shoulders than I do. Yes, Mother, I've heard this before." And he had. It's the same argument every day. I try to keep from being bored, and she goes off on a tangent. Well, what the hell else is there to do with money in Gilneas? It's not like we trade with anyone anymore...

The nineteen-year-old heir to House Valmy remained silent and blocked out all the noise as his mother, the Lady Estelle, kept up her ranting. His father, Lord Reldin, just sat there, an utterly blank expression on his face. Eldred was disgusted with his father; everyone in Gilneas knew that Reldin was practically brain-dead since coming back from the war, and Estelle was the power behind the throne. The only look he had that remotely resembled support was from his rival to the Valmy estate - his fifteen-year-old sister, Eirena. She disliked seeing Eldred treated so, and often thought their mother just screamed for the sake of it.

Eldred, however, had no such compassion at this moment. I just wish they would all die before they do something stupid, he thought uncharitably. Like disinherit me! I'm a nobleman of Gilneas, for whatever that's worth; I will not be treated like the common rabble!

"...and when you're not spending my money, you come back all baggy-eyed and bloodshot like you've been spending the night doing Light knows what..." She was still going. By the Nether, does this woman ever shut up? Looking at the clock by the hearth and seeing the time, Eldred abruptly stood and shouted, "SILENCE, YOU WITHERED WINDBAG! Just do whatever you want, I don't care anymore! I will do what I wish!"

"Oh, is that so? Well, see here, boy, if you --" Without another word, Eldred turned and walked out of the hall, leaving the house. "Hey! I'm talking to you, you ungrateful wretch! You get back here at once or I'll whip you bloody, you hear me? I brought you into this world, boy, and I'll take you out of it!"

But Eldred did not look back. It was the same every day, and he was used to it. His mother was a toothless dog, as far as he was concerned. He had gone first to his room (which, conveniently, was close to the back door) and slipped into a hooded robe, then went out of the house, wandering the dark alleyways of Gilneas City to a house on the outskirts of town.

He rapped on the door, and the shutter opened. "The reason seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason," whispered a voice through the small slit.

"I have no words," Eldred replied. "My voice is in my sword."

The door unlatched and opened just enough for him to enter, and then shut and locked behind him. "You're just in time, brother," the greeter told him. "The Magister is to speak today. Mayhap you'll improve on what you learned last time."

"We'll see," Eldred said neutrally.

Though he knew that he had done nothing wrong (other than be what he was, in the eyes of the traditionalists), Valmy remained particularly wary whenever any of the city's guard forces - the Stormwind City Watch, as they were called - were around. Genevra and her circle were accepting of him and what he provided, but he knew better than to take it for granted. After all, he dabbled in things that people like Genevra (normally) found blasphemous, corruptive, worthy of having him hanged or burnt at the stake, so on.

Then again, he had to remember that Stormwind was most definately not Gilneas...

Word among the warlock coven in Stormwind, which met in the basement of the Slaughtered Lamb Tavern near the mage tower, was that a prominent gnome warlock called Sputterspark had met a gruesome end, not at the hands of an ill-summoned demon, but at the hands of a former Forsaken war criminal, a man called Sekhesmet, that the gnome had resurrected with blood magic. (Most who knew the truth would find it amusing that there was no mention of the blood elf general who actually did the deed.) Valmy had read mention of Sekhesmet in the archives Genevra's Conclave kept in Northshire Abbey, mainly through tracts written by the man himself, donated by his former apprentice, Saavedro.

Admittedly, the worgen had no real grasp of how priests worked, but it seemed that shadow priests were seriously frowned on, so far as Genevra was concerned, though she had a friend, another gnome - always gnomes, he thought - who wielded similar powers. He wondered if people here reacted similarly to how he'd been treated...

----

"Fortress Gilneas", during the Cataclysm

The Magister tapped his staff on the wooden floor, and the coven all looked to him. "The worgen attacks have increased considerably since the Slasher killings. Everyone in the outer villages is probably turned, and they've gained enough numbers to be roaming the streets of Gilneas City itself. Lenora here has seen them tearing through Merchant Square, and it's probable they're in all the other districts as well."

Lenora Tavan shook her head as she listened to the howling through the streets; it had been going on all night. "I knew summoning these creatures would be a bad idea from the start. Arugal is a bloody idiot."

"Aye, but not much we can do about it now...except fry these howling bastards with what we can offer."

"You're not serious, are you? The King has ordered hangings and stake-burnings for mages, Eldred. What do you think they'd do to us?"

"We're not left with much choice, Lenora." Eldred had been Magister for a little over a year, and had done fairly well for himself...so far. "Greymane has started calling on rebel cells to join the ranks too. We may be practitioners of the dark arts, but we're also citizens of Gilneas; the King cannot refuse us." He looked around at all the members of the coven, those that had not been picked off by worgen attacks - or worse, turned themselves. "No matter what we think of the puritans who lord over us, this is our homeland. Every tool we need is necessary to defend the realm - do you want to sit idly and let these monsters rule, to leave us cowering in fear in our own bedchambers?"

"Maybe Greymane will accept us, Magister," one of the other acolytes spoke up, "but what of the troops?"

"One bridge at a time," Eldred said grimly. "We cannot change the minds of the entire country instantly, especially not now with these things running rampant. But perhaps demonstrating our loyalty to Gilneas will be a good first step. For now, we must convince Greymane and his circle to employ us in battle against these creatures. We will proceed from there."

Lenora was not convinced. "I don't like this."

"Then stay and die, Lenora," Eldred snapped, losing his patience. "We're dead either way, but I prefer to die in the open, using my powers against the foe, rather than be ripped apart while trying to hide in a dusty basement." He looked around at the others in the coven. "What say you?"

Every head other than his own and Lenora's was nodding. Seeing the argument lost, Lenora added her assent to the group.

"Very well. I will go to Greymane myself, and offer the coven's services. Perhaps it will go as badly as you believe, Lenora, but I prefer to be optimistic."

Lenora just stared at him, and then shook her head, chuckling. "You've always taken big risks, Eldred."

Eldred grinned. "I'm a gambler. It's what I do."