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And the Old Ones Did See

The One was Asked, and He did Come


(A sort of enemy perspective storyline for the Twilights in the upcoming War in the Highlands storyline. Please do not post in this.)

Darkness. It is all I see. Shadow and blackness. The men at the door have told me that our lords expect me. They have requested my presence here. Of all people, an initiate is who they call to their audience. I am both honored and frightened. Few may enter the lord's chambers. As I enter, there is no illumination in the thick black fog save a single purple flame and the light from the moon outside. The guards close the door behind me, enclosing me in the fog with the single purple flame. It flickers calmly, the fog's tendrils idly creeping towards the flame.

"Follow." The single word echoes through the silence of the chamber. I can't even tell if the chamber is that or a single hallway. Nonetheless, I obey. I must, for the lord expects it. The eerie purple flame cuts through the fog as a hot knife through butter, my eyes following it and my feet being willed forward. As I pass through the darkness, I can nearly feel the shadows making corporeal form and draping themselves along my legs. However, I will not falter. I will feel no fear. The lord will expect such of one that he honors with an audience.

The flame stops, and flickers wildly, expanding. "See now those that did not see the truth." As the flame expands, so too does the fog flee into the corners of the chamber. I can see now the walls of the hallway, made of solid stone and carved with such delicacy as to show the true dedication of its builders. The ground is marred, however, by corpses. As first I am startled, but then I realize that my path is free of them. The corpses lay half-rotted, skeletal, motionless. Their half-browned eyes are blank. The size of the corpses show me that these may have been the hallway's makers. Dwarves. That was what they were called. The dwarves of the Wildhammer. The lord, when he did greet the initiates with a small token, spoke of the Wildhammer's treachery. Their falsification of our gods. Their desecrating of our rituals. I smile in glee to imagine as I see what horrible fates befell them. Hilts of blades and axes jut from the fallen dwarven corpses, as well as arrows.

"Follow." The word once again echoes through the darkness, the flame flickering down to the size it once was. I obey once more, following as the flame turns right and illuminates a thick archway, once again the craftsmanship being perfected. The flame stops in what I assume to be the center of at least this part of the room, expanding and expanding until it takes place atop a large brazier. The flame grows brighter, illuminating this entire half of the room, though the shadows fight for control over the other half of the room. Great oaken doors slam behind me, but I do not even flinch.

"Welcome to my sanctum, initiate." Dark words echo from across the room. Dark words that are deep, gruff, and of two voices in one. I look past the brazier to see three glowing purple eyes staring at me. I instantly drop to my knees, bowing my head and pressing my forehead against the ground. The stench of dusty stone fills my nostrils. "You will rise, for I am no God of ours. I am merely another servant." The voice says again. Hearing this, I rise and stare at the eyes, feeling to match the cause of fear with vigor.

"Approach me, initiate, and see the truth." A thick, pink hand goes forward, motioning to a golden stand that now holds a dark orb. I obey, approaching the stand and staring at the orb. Within the orb is a dark fog, similar to the darkness which I entered. "Look into it, and see that which defies your Gods."

I step further, my hands instinctively rising to approach the orb. They temper themselves with caution, my fingers moving of their own will near the orb. "Stare into the truth which your master reveals to you." My eyes are locked on the fog within the orb, and as I watch, the fog shifts, taking form… It forms within my very mind, creating an image of splendor. I see Azeroth, the world which in old days the Gods did rule. But this Azeroth is not one I recognize. No great swirl of cloud and wave mars the center of the world, but rather a primal land, savage and unforgiving. Such is the splendor and the glory of the Gods. The image intensifies, bringing to me sight of the grounds that are so… Beautiful. No mortals chain the world’s magics, as they flow freely across the world, the elements in luscious chaos. And in foreboding presence, the Gods can be felt in their power even when seeing the glory that was once Azeroth.

But then a light pierced the luscious shadow, for which I can only drool over the image of the Gods and their true strength. A piercing light breaks upon the clouds, and the entire world is in upheaval. The primal lands are covered in chains as the Defilers battle and defeat the Gods, cheating and destroying the natural order and beautiful chaos of the Gods. The elements were rejected their place within their true realm, given false realms to have as cages. When the smoke cleared, the Defilers -defiled- the Gods’ glorious masterpiece. They shaped it and took from it what once made it so glorious.

I watch as tens of thousands of years pass. I watch as civilizations rise and within the peak of the Gods’ former glory fall. Then, the Great Sundering occurs. The world heaves in fury as the Defilers’ invention at the very center of their vile ‘order’ gives way to natural, pure chaos. Glorious chaos. Cities and entire countries fall now to the wrath of the seas. Neptulon, Lord of Water, I can tell, was grateful that day, when his realm was restored. And before the waves crash upon the exposed earth, I can hear the slow beating of Azeroth’s glorious and savage nature. I can feel the Gods slumbering, the very thought of their glory making me shiver outside of this image.

Thousands of years pass once more until the quake through time ends, now centered on the southern part of the eastern continent. I recall that this place is called the Eastern Kingdoms, and that the land I now see is the Kingdom of Stormwind. The image slowly intensifies, bringing my eyes to bear upon the very capital of these humans. “Look to the harbor, initiate. Watch as they crawl and gripe for peace from what they truly should bow down to.” The image intensified with the master’s voice, coming to the harbor. There marched line upon line of fresh soldiers, men and women of all races, preparing to board ships and sail to war. I could see each of their minds, each of them glowing just faintly golden, a sign of the Defilers’ filthy stamp.

“These heretics gather for war. But there is no such being that can truly defeat a God. Nor, even, are there any such beings that may be free of the Gods knowledge.” The images recede from the harbor, slowly going into the district I know as Old Town. Through the doors of the barracks and into the sleeping quarters the image flows. I look now upon the slumbering guards of this city. Each has the same golden glow, except for two of them. A glow surrounds their minds that are violet in tone. “These are the few that have seen the Gods and bowed to their glory. The few that have seen that the Gods are their truth and their answer.”

I watch as the two true men rise, looking to their former comrades and assuring themselves that the work of the Gods will not be disturbed. They nod to each other, grabbing up a pack and exiting the quarters silently. The images follow them, fading in and out, until they are within a secluded room. They pour a dust on the ground from the pack, and the ground glows violet with the sign of the Gods. One of them steps onto the sign, and the images vanish. I bring my fingers back from the orb, blinking my eyes for a few moments to adjust myself once more to the real world. In front of the orb stands a violet-hued image of the very same true man from before.

The man falls to a knee. “Master.” He bows his head to the three violet eyes. “Still they are ignorant to our presence here. The Plan is underway.”

“All is as it should be truthbearer. The Gods will wait as we always have.” The violet eyes fall on the man. “Now go, rejoin the heretics and watch for a disturbance.” A thick, pink hand waves from the shadows once more, and I watch as the man’s image disappears. “Initiate.” I stand straight as I can, all of my attention upon the master’s glorious sight. “Rest yourself, and prepare. I have new tasks for you.”

I beam at the opportunity to serve the master, he who holds the command of the Gods, but temper myself under his visage. “For soon the Hour shall come.”

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