World of Warcraft®

The uninitiated were often unnerved by the presence of one such as him. So it was even among his own, he mused, as he left Orgrimmar that evening. Though he did, on occasion, have trouble with the metal prosthesis bolted into his skull to replace his lower jaw when he joined the Forsaken, he often found that appearing to be weak or frail often led to sympathies kicking in, which in turn loosened tongues.

It also led to foes developing a false sense of security, leaving themselves open to a counter-strike. So it had been with this persistent whelpling of an elf he had run into the other day, who he was keeping on ice until he could decide what to do with him. The elf had been a disciple of the late Rakeri Sputterspark, a gnome he had met only once through their mutual work - the work of the Black Harvest.

A group that saw beyond the prideful, arrogant perceptions of "nations" and "factions", dedicated to the study of the dark arts for the purpose of battling any enemy that threatened Azeroth as a whole. It had been his work in this regard that had led him to miss most of the war for Pandaria, but he worked to make up for it by aiding where he could in the time-altered world of Draenor, gaining in strength as he did.

Sputterspark had made the mistake of allowing his personal wars with Saavedro of Stratholme and Genevra Stoneheardt to color his perceptions, and he used his powers to torment them instead of for the purpose the Black Harvest had sought. In that way, he had followed in the footsteps of their former leader, who was kept in perpetual banishment in Outland. The results from the study of the Codex were circulated throughout the warlock covens of Azeroth, with the caveat that this cup should not be drunk too deeply to avoid suffering Kanrethad's fate.

He understood this. Sputterspark had not.

More and more, however, he had heard of Stoneheardt, and this "Conclave" that Sputterspark - and Alieth Taldir after that - had waged war on. This group of knowledge-seekers, unhampered by the perception of the knowledge being "evil" or "dark". He had originally heard of them from the ranting sermons of Sekhesmet, when he had been one of the Forsaken - one of the original, pre-val'kyr ones, like himself. Now he was human and sided with the Alliance, earning him a death sentence from the Undercity. Given Sekhesmet's penchant for murder, he was surprised that he had not been executed the moment he arrived in Stormwind.

A message had been sent, unsigned and utterly untraceable...but with a black scythe sigil in place of a signature, indicating that the sender was not someone to be taken lightly. There had been signs that these people agreed with his perception of "open borders", of not being limited by factional differences. It was promising...but if they could be shown the error of even accepting the existence of factions at all, they could be even more formidable.

All it needed was a little push.

In the top floor of the ever expanding mystical tower that constituted Conclave's Arcane Research Division... or was it Department... Tink sat table top. Her legs crossed beneath the Shadowmoon stylized purple dress she wore. Her hood was pushed back to reveal a rather youthful countenance, as well as display a head full of shimmering white unruly hair. Hair made to behave by pulling them into twin puffy tails at the back and sides of her ample gnomish cranium.

Her hands gently held open a copy of the letter, penned ornately in red ink, signed with the black sigil of a scythe. Her blue eyes scanned carefully over the wording for a third time.

"Who are these Black Harvesters, again?" Her soft high-pitched voice cracked a little as she asked.

Dressed head to toe in her traditional Arcanist regalia, Sadie Brooks, Magus of Conclave, conversed with three other magicians (magical-scholars) on three other topics. Her back turned to where Tink was sitting, the moment appeared rather chaotic and confusing. As a pupil of the Magus, Tink knew better. Without hardly skipping a beat Sadie turned slightly to answer Tink's query while reading over a set of scrolls one of the other magicians had handed her.

"The Black Harvest is...or was... a council of powerful warlocks who gathered after the fall of Neltharian to seek greater power for the purpose of defending Azeroth." Sadie paused to converse a moment with two of the three magicians standing before her. She then continued right where she left off.

"I say 'was' only because their leader met with an unfortunate end. Their goals were accomplished as far as I understand, and so I assume that the council itself has disband. The information they were able to discriminate among their assorted covens was, for lack of a better word at the moment, priceless." Again Sadie paused to hand back one of the two scrolls she'd been reading and offer some critiques. She then continued speaking to Tink over a shoulder.

"I've heard the term "Black Harvester" tossed around indicating warlocks who have chosen to follow in the council's example." She turned back to finish a conversation with one of the magicians.

Tink puckered her lips in thought. Her face scrunched together with an intense scowl of concentration.

"At first glance they sound dangerous. This one, forsaken though he may be, makes a valid point. Surviving the horrors of the scourge and all that the Cult of the Damned and the Twilight Cultists have wrought..."

"It's hard not to distrust." Sadie commented, mid discussion with the other two magicians.

Tink paused as well to listen to what was so important. Apparently there was a discrepancy noted in several translated magical texts. Tink stopped listening after learning that much. She loved libraries for what they represented, but loathed book work. She much more preferred getting her hands dirty, as evidenced by her shimmering white hair.

The petite gnome folded the letter neatly. Her thoughts returning to its contents.

"I can't help but agree with his notion of "Egotistical Futility". Given ample time everything comes to an end, but I can't yet accept or embrace it."

"Why is that?" Sadie asked mid-sentence while conversing with the pair of magicians. She added "Tink" for clarification when the two stuttered in confusion.

"I love my home. I love my work. I love my family... such as it is... and I can't think of a better reason to gain power than to defend your home. To defend Azeroth." The gnome laid back across the table, stretching her legs out to dangle over the edge. "Accepting what I feel like this guy is proposing makes my heart ache. As if I'm suppose to simply shrug and allow everything to fall apart, because it was all going to end anyway. Why bother. That's just too bleak and fatalistic for me to stomach."

Tink lightly stroked her stomach. She grimaced a little as if feeling suddenly nauseated.

"Consider the source." Sadie said. Tink couldn't help but notice the ringing silence and propped herself up on her elbows. The magus stood facing the gnome, all alone, with a gentle smile. A contagious kind of smile that instantly made the gnome grin for no good reason.

"True. I suppose being forsaken would suck all the joy out of life. You're dead after all. That must blow."

Sadie nodded. "I can only imagine. Remember too that they were made to suffer too. If anyone deserves to feel victimized by the horrors of the scourge it would be these people."

"People?" Tink tilted her head with a sarcastic look. "That's a stretch."

"Then I think I have your next assignment." Sadie waved her hand. A tome jostled off a nearby shelf and flew into her hand. She in turn offered it to Tink. "This tome is an encoded grimoire of shadow magic. It's translation was left incomplete when it's scholar developed a mental instability. Take it. Complete it. Return it to me when you're finished."

Tink blinked. "But I'm a mage. An arcanist at that! I've no skill or interest in elemental or void magics."

"Funny, coming from one wearing the garb of a Shadowmoon Voidmancer."

"It's fashionable!" Tink lifted her hood. "Not to mention comfy, and a Limited Edition Khromie exclusive. I happen to like the sparkly blue crystals."

"Excellent! This will give you incentive to gain an appreciation of the ones that wear the genuine article." Tink begrudgingly took the tome. "It's precisely because you're an arcanist that I know you'll be fine. If anyone can gain an understanding of it, it's you."

"Alright." Tink frowned down at the book cover. "Any ideas on where to start?"

"Look around for a priest of the light. Sekhesmet might be a good start. All the better if you can find a forsaken that won't try and eat you."

Tink sneered a little at Sadie's remark. She gestured a well practiced quick teleportation cast and the gnome seemingly blinked out of existence.

Sadie's smile slowly faded. Her thoughts turned to the dangers she knew awaited Tink on her journey. The tome was important, but merely a pretext to her real goals. She just hopped that Tink found her way to him sooner rather than later. The mad old gnome was in need of family, now more than ever.