World of Warcraft®

Finnaeus arrived at Ursula’s house in Duskwood. He stood outside, listening to the movement of some creature in the woods. He could not find it in himself to be curious about it. All he could do was listen to the thud of his heart against his chest, calm and steady. It was not easy to go to one’s death without panicking, but he was determined to do it.

He rapped his knuckles against her door, and it swung inwards. Something was wrong. No warlock, especially one of Ursula’s skill, would leave her dwelling so accessible. He stepped over the threshold and narrowed his eyes.

The living room looked as if a struggle had occurred. Pieces of furniture look like they had been set ablaze. Pieces of the wall had been blasted off, the masonry showing. The bookshelf had been ripped from the wall, with tomes littering the floor. Finnaeus moved quickly through the room, passing down a hallway and then ascending the stairs. When he reached the top he heard it, the whispering from the book that she possessed.

Here…

Finnaeus moved down the hallway and found the room. He carefully opened the door, and then narrowed his eyes. A human skeleton sat in the corner, every bit of flesh gone from its body. He had no doubt that this was Ursula. His eyes lingered on the skeleton, wondering what this meant for his own life debt to her. Would it be absolved in her death? But a more pressing question came to his mind. Who killed her? And why?

I can show you…

Finnaeus turned and saw the book laying on the floor, covered in debris. He reached down and picked it up. It reeked of malevolence.

Let me show you.

“No,” Finnaeus said, putting the book down. “I’ve had enough of dealing with demonic powers.”

Clever druid does not know the truth. You are one the few that can see me, read my pages.

Finnaeus cast his attention towards the bedroom, looking for signs of who did this. He pushed through some of the broken furniture. The faint smell of Fel magic lingered in the air, but he didn’t know if that was from Ursula or some demonic invader. Everything looked touched with fire, there would be very little evidence…

The imp came. Asking questions. Demanding answers.

Finnaeus turned towards the book. His heart hammered.

“The imp? What questions?”

How did the clever druid know to go to the Sunwell? How did the clever druid figure out the master’s plan?

“You’re saying an imp killed this warlock? I find it hard to believe.”

It was not the imp, clever druid, but you do not see. The demons wanted the Shadow Well. It was why they wondered why Ursula used demonic magic to give you future sight. The demons talked when the Shadow Well did not happen. They blamed her for meddling.

Finnaeus felt a chill race up his spine.

“Another demon did this? To punish her?”

Clever druid must be cleverer to see the truth. What happened whispered in the Nether, that a warlock used a demon’s power to halt a demon’s progress. Whispers travel far. It was another who did this.

Finnaeus narrowed his eyes.

“So the imp wanted answers? That doesn’t explain how a skilled warlock had her flesh burned from her bone.”

Because the master came. Wielding powers you cannot imagine. And now he wants her secrets, her powers. He wants the book.

Finnaeus’s mouth went dry. What that meant for his life debt he did not know, but he could not hesitate here. He finally understood.

He grabbed the demonic book and threw it in his bag, rushing out of the house. If he could destroy the book, he would. But somehow he doubted it would be that easy. As he rushed out into the night, he realized that he would get his chance to live his life, if but for a little bit longer. Worse came to worse, he’d hide it so that the one seeking it couldn’t find it. But for now, he would rest, and work with the Presidium. He earned a reprieve.

The imp chattered, looking up at the elf’s back as the elf stood at the edge of his balcony.

“Did anyone come to claim the book?” the elf asked. Something was wrong with his voice. It was deeper, more sinister now.

“The druid,” Piztal chattered.

“Finnaeus…” The name hissed out of the warlock, coiled with loathing. “How can a druid see a warlock text when I cannot?”

“He will hide the book.”

“He’ll try,” the warlock responded. “But that does not concern me. In time we’ll have it. For now, we must look to ourselves. Lord Aziel will be most displeased that we did not successfully turn the Sunwell. We will have to recommit to the Modas, support their endeavors. Then, perhaps, we can make our next move.”

“You fear Aziel, when you wield such power?” the imp chattered. The elf laughed.

“Fear, no. But he is a powerful ally. One would do well to have him on our side, rather than opposing us.”

Malthaes turned away from the balcony. His robe had parted down below his chest, and Piztal saw the black swirl of energy embedded directly into the warlock’s chest. The scars still showed from the sword wound, but Piztal knew that it was due to the energy in his chest that Malthaes managed to survive. Malthaes followed the imp’s eyes, and then closed the robes to hide it.

“A shard of the Void spark. That which they destroyed gives me life,” he said softly, closing his eyes. “But it gives me more, when I draw on it…”

He inhaled, and suddenly the room grew darker. The imp backed away, in fear. Malthaes opened his eyes, and his eyes had gone black as night, crackling with power.

“Come, Piztal,” he said, his voice utterly inhumane.

((Thank you EVERYONE for their participation, encouragement, and following along! Clearly this isn’t the end for these characters, but this is the end of this particular arc. Thank you very much again, and I look forward to being back in game to RP how these characters have changed!))

((I love it! Superb writing. This is undoubtedly most epic forum RP I've read to date.))

(this was excellent. i haven't read anything this good in a long time. well done.)

(( Inspiring and well done. I look forward to interacting with the characters in the future. This writing is a great mark to reach in future work to be done. ))

((Fantastic.))