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Death of the Cosmos: Eternities End

Chapter one: Dancing Shadows

[Image: WoWScrnShot_091611_193533.jpg]


The sky was a cold black. Fire light was the only thing keeping the scene visible for a far eye. A tall well-built Elf stood around a smoldering brazier. His silver hair shimmered in the fire light. He spoke, “I come to you with wonderful news of my mission. I have faithfully served the Legion for many years now, and I am proud to say my service has shown fruit.” The fire waved and danced to his voice. A stale green began to grow within the embers near the bottom of the brazier. Two large green eyes formed above the now bright greenish blue flame. A voice came, but from no mouth “You are a faithful priest for the damned, Lord Seregon. Your faith will be rewarded in due time. What of your most recent reports?” Elrohir smirked, his eyes flaring green “I have located one of the Nova’s. He is not the Nova himself but more so his faithful cousin. Mastus Novalight. I have dispatched agents to bring him in.” A deep terrible laugh came from the now grinning flames, “Good. You should attempt to turn him before stealing his life source. A puppet in the House of Nova could prove most useful.” The Elven Lord nodded in agreement, “Yes. However, he has been seen consorting with a light-wielder. She is of little concern to me but those that she could bring to the table do. Her existence is one of inspiration and hope; the weak minded seem to rally for her. She will bring numbers.” Air around the fire grew warm and stank of sulfur. Lord Seregon began circling the speaking flames, his arms folded behind his back in thought. The voice came again, “Perhaps she should be removed? If she is an obstacle for you… then dispose of her.” Elrohir ran his long nails through his chin hair for a moment in contemplation. An idea leapt into his sinister mind, “No. I have other plans for this woman. She could provide information well worth my time.” Narrowing eyes set on the large Elf, “Do not let her stop you Lord Seregon. You have shown much promise of greatness over your long years of service. Don’t… disappoint.” Elrohir rounded on the fire slamming his two hands together with anger. The flames quickly blew out ending the conversation.

Lord Seregon pulled a small crystal shard from his left sleeve. With a flick of his wrist it took hovering flight around the dark room providing a small purple hue. A large figure stepped from the shadows, the voice was harsh and deep “You seem to be quick to anger this day.” Elrohir spun to face the voice a venomous look in his eye. His steps were quick and made with purpose as he neared the towering figure that had now revealed himself as Nuk, Elrohir’s summoned Felguard. Nuk spoke with sarcasm in his voice “Perhaps you should relax?” Lord Seregon shot a hand up to the eight foot tall beast’s chin grabbing it with force, his nails sinking into the demons flesh. A sudden jerk had the monsters full attention as the Elf spoke “Listen here you pathetic excuse for a foot soldier. Do NOT! Forget who it is you serve… You will speak when asked, understand you insolent worm?” The Felguard remained silent as trickles of black blood ran down Elrohir’s clenching hand. Lord Seregon knew a defiant creature when he saw one, and he knew just how to break them “You will answer!” His grip tightened. Nuk spoke through a tight jaw, “Yes my Master.” Elrohir released the beast from his grasp “Now… You will dispatch two hired mercenaries to retrieve Mastus and bring him before me. Understood?” Nuk nodded, “Yes my Lord. It will be done with haste.” Elrohir turned and moved to the brazier where the crystal of purple light now hovered. A cool and collected voice came from the Elf, “Now go… I have things to do.” Nuk bowed low before turned and thundering down the long hall at the northern edge of the room. Lord Seregon stood gazing into the crystal for a long moment before speaking quietly to himself and the shadows of the empty room, “This Novalight House will fall… And all those who side with them will taste the fire of… The Burning Legion.”


Music played with a joyful sound as maidens danced atop the tables at the Salty Sailor Tavern. Many sea fairing men shouted and hollered and barked at the wenches as they displayed their playful routines. A cloaked Elf sat at a table with a few other shady looking cut-throats. One of the salty sea dogs shouted for another round as he grabbed the Elf’s mug seeing it empty, “Oyi! Ca’a man ge’ anodda fill!” One of the barmaids bobbed through the crowd of the Tavern. She arrived with another frothy mug of alcohol. The sailor slid it to the Elf who in turn grabbed it with a nod. A mug was lifted high into the air by the ordering man, “Cheers!” A few echoing voices joined in the celebration. They all waited for the Elf to lift his mug which he did. A few large gulps later the men had finished their drinks, the Elf simply sloshed his onto the floor while they all chugged. His eyes went back to scanning the room. He felt uneasy as though someone was watching him. Sure enough he was right. High above him on the second level of the Tavern stood two large Orcs. One turned to the other speaking in Orcish, “He doesn’t look like much.” The second Orc answered, “How do we know if he is even the right Elf?” The first Orc who whore a large beard and bore a bald head pointed with his finger towards the fact that a tattoo was showing from beneath the Elf’s neckline, “The guy who hired us said the Elf would have many tattoos. That’s gotta be the guy.” A nod came from the other who was hairless except for two large braids draped by his ears “True. Well, let’s see if he stays the night or heads out. It would be better to catch him in the dark alleys. The bruisers will have our heads if we go making a mess here.” Both chuckled in agreement.

Mastus was well trained and far from stupid. He sensed something was wrong, the feeling of a thousand eyes watching him hung heavy on his mind. Just as he began to scan the people near the bar a large thud was heard, much to his surprise it was not a thud of violence. The sound came from one of the dancing wenches landing on the table. She rhythmically slithered down to meet his gaze, one leg draped over his shoulder. The Elf blushed with a slight chuckle, “Well, I uhh…” One of the old sea dogs cheered, “There ye go’lad! Show’er a go’ole time boy!” Mastus was no stranger to the ladies that was for sure. His dark mystic aura that surrounded his awkward nature was only accented by his handsome young features. The dancer pulled him closer with her leg as she grasped his collar line, “Got a room handsome?” He chuckled as he stood to place a kiss on her forehead, his voice a whisper “Not tonight lovey, there is business afoot for this Elf.” Mastus winked at her as he slid her a few coins. She took them with a shocked smile. The Elf graced her face with a gentle touch before he weeded his way through the thick crowded room and made for the door.

Two large Orcs pushed and shoved their way through the crowd as they descended the stairs with quickness. A few of the patrons turned to deck the rude assailants but stopped upon seeing towering death machines. Outside they found the lights of the city lit the board walk to much for a clean kill as they spotted their target at the far end of the docks heading towards the smith’s. Spicer’s and traders shouted their last plea for business before closing. The docks were always full of people this time of night, the mystical tradesmen that came to Booty Bay often held most captive with their strange wears for long hours. Mastus felt that uneasy feeling again as he headed up the ramp. He stopped to look back but saw only crowds of civilians and merchants. Many races scattered about the docks made it almost impossible to spot any specific one. He returned to his quick pace as he continued onward. Two Orcs watched from afar, near the recently caught shark that hung high on a fisherman’s line. One yanked a spy glass free from his traveling pouch, a sudden flick extended the thing and his massive eye was pressed to the tiny hole “The fool is actually leaving the city; he is nearing the cave mouth to the north. If we hurry we can catch him outside.” The other nodded with a grunt as they both stomped through the crowd, most moving aside.

[Image: WoWScrnShot_091611_193740.jpg]

Mastus neared the entrance to Booty Bay, he spoke to a bruiser standing guard as he did so “Greetings my friend, if you see anyone following me can you do me a favor and whistle very loudly for me? I will pay you ten gold.” A flash of his hand showed ten gleaming gold coins. The Goblins eyes lit up with greed, “Certainly!” he quickly snatched the rich’s from the Elf. Mastus nodded, “Thank you.” His path resumed. The two Orcs made good time with their powerful bodies. Only minutes later they arrived at the cave entrance and perked a brow at a bruiser that was whistling a tune obnoxiously loud. Deep in the tunnel Mastus smiled to himself, though it soon faded and his darker side took hold. It was time to work. He slipped into the shadows once he reached the jungle beyond the entrance. Much to his surprise his would be stalkers happened to be Orcs. He half expected some angry pirates he had upset earlier in the week. The bearded Orc removed his large war axe from his back as he kneeled. An Orcish hand moved over footprints that disappeared into nothingness, “Come out, come out wherever you are my little tree loving friend!” Mastus cursed to himself. One Orc he could deal with but two? That was almost an impossible task for any being. Orcs were built for war and are both hard to hurt and bring down. His mind rolled over ideas on how he could deal with this.

An axe drug back and forth as the massive Orc paced waiting, “We can be here all night if we have to runt!” Mastus nodded. His mind was made up, violence was the only solution. It had to be swift and accurate, one slip would mean his death at the hands of a very pissed off pair of Orcs. The Shadow Dancer stalked through the voided blackness of the dark until he came to rest behind the Orcs. Mastus reached into his pouch pulling out a small silver ball, he tossed it just passed the Orc on his left. A loud POP was heard as the ball hit the ground. A flash of light caught the left Orcs attention, as soon as Mastus saw his chance he took it. A swift silent blade appeared and plunged deep into the lower back of the right Orc. Loud screams of rage and pain shot through the jungle as Mastus became visible, “What do you two greenskins want with me?!” The left Orc rounded on the Elf, braids in toe and lunged at him baring two hand axes and a raging maw of tusks “Cursed Elf!” Mastus did his best to parry the blow as he slipped back through the shadows appearing behind the Orc. He exhaled a breath; the Orc's blow almost decapitated him.


[Image: WoWScrnShot_091611_194024.jpg]

A screaming bearded Orc finally ripped the small knife from his back, “You rat! Now you’re mine!” Mastus knew he was in trouble, but he had to by himself some time for the poison to work. The Elf sprang in and out of the shadows around the Orc delivering several more slices and stabs to him. Sharp pain shot through Mastus’s jawline as the pommel of the axe connected hard with his chin. He staggered for a moment heading dazed in the direction of the second Orc who greeted him with a solid blow to the stomach by a knee. A wheeze left his body, the air had been knocked loose from him and he struggled to regain his composure. An evasive tumble out of combat was needed to come to his senses. Mastus tugged his hood down and wiped his now gushing lip. Braided Orc spoke, “The little runt wants a fight?... Good.” He chuckled deep. Moonlight lit the field of battle well; black liquid clung to the end of the bearded Orcs pommel and leaked freely from the Elf's mouth. Mastus rallied himself, his right dagger spun around in hand so the blade was flush with his forearm “Come get your throat slit Orc…” A well placed insult always seemed to work with some folks. This case in point the now raging Orc stampeding for the kill. Mastus shadow jumped behind him letting the Orcs momentum carry him forward. Two daggers sank deep into the Orcs upper back. He shouted with hate and spat black life fluid from his mouth as he slumped to a knee. The Elf planted both feet on his back and hurled himself backwards into a flip that landed clean. Except for the fact that he was now defenseless against the coming blow, which the bearded Orc though slowed was more than prepared to give. He howled a battle cry as his axe graced the Elf’s mid-section with force. Mastus was sent spinning to his left, his side opened up with a gash. He struggled for breath while he held the wound. The bearded Orc roared in triumph of his soon to be kill.

Mastus had to think fast and with only half of his brain still in the fight, a hand shot out grasping the only dagger still near him. He held it close preparing to deliver his last blow before he died. The chance never came as he heard a loud thump behind him. Mastus rolled over still holding his side, blood leaking between his fingers. A bearded Orc lay face down in the dirt, his flesh an awkward purple color. The Elf laughed and coughed together as a copper taste filled his mouth, the poison had worked wonderfully. In the distance the still slumped Orc with braids was beginning to stand on shaken feet. Mastus grunted as he sat up and tried to stand, but failed. The Orc was up now and staggering his way. A hand frantically searched his belt line for the right potion, ah! There it was. Mastus lifted a clenched fist and closed his one eye. He couldn’t miss. Braided Orc wiped blood from his chin, “What’s that Elf? More tricks?” he laughed. Mastus held it tightly waiting for the right… There it was. His hand loosed the vial. It crashed open upon the Orc’s face spilling a strange bubbling green liquid on his already green flesh. The Orc howled and screamed until his voice broke. His flesh began to eat away at itself until all that remained was a smoldering skull with a loose clacking jaw bone. His body slammed to the ground where it remained.

Darkness crept into the Elf’s mind and vision as he felt his body growing cold. His wound was seeping heavily now and he had only drug himself a few hundred yards. The mind wandered to his Mother, he longed to see her one last time. To tell her that he had done his best to bring their family honor. Mastus thought of Jidaeo, his great Uncle. He hoped he had made him proud wherever he was. Zariel, the name rang out like a bell in a fog dense night. His hand tightened on his wound, the pain helping to keep him conscious. I can’t leave Zariel, he thought. So many have turned on him… I shall not fail my Nova now by dying here. He pushed himself to a knee, “Get up boy.” The voice echoed in his mind’s eye. It was a familiar voice. Mastus called to the empty night, “Master?” It did not respond. I’m losing it he thought as his vision began to sink once more. He tried to stand, half way his knee buckled as unconscious claimed him for her silent victim. The night holding his fate in her mother like arms, Mastus Novalight drifted far from the realm of the living…

[Image: WoWScrnShot_091611_194138.jpg]
[Image: 15.jpg]
Chapter 2: A Show of Force

A shudder of breath shook his body. The injuries were great; he had lost so much blood. Mastus tried to open his eyes but they refused. His ears twitched with the sound of two familiar voices, “Tell me what happened…” A second voice came, “I found him bleeding out in the jungle near the road. There were two other bodies, large Orcs.” He stirred trying to speak but his voice failed him. The muscle memory in his back was still having trouble and he could feel his abilities were only at half mass. Unconsciousness claimed him once more.


Zariel stood in a room dazzled with gizmos and gadgets. It was a strange island off the coast of Tanaris. The home belonged to a young woman by the name of Annabelle Greene. Zariel spoke, “You say he was just lying there with the other bodies?” Anna nodded, “Yes, one of the Orcs had been obviously poisoned and the other slashed to ribbons.” Nova turned to face his cousin who remained unconscious on the bed. A hand went to his chin as he pondered; his feet slowly carried him outside to think. Anna remained behind tending to Mastus. She wetted a wash cloth and dotted his fresh scar clean with it. Outside Zariel tried to collect his thoughts, “Who are these people that threaten my family so?” He was more speaking to himself than anyone. Annabelle heard him speak and smiled lightly to herself. She headed outside, “Try not to beat yourself up.” Zariel glanced up from his spot in the sand where he had maneuvered a nice seat, “How can I not? People are getting hurt on my watch.” He hung his head with a sigh. Anna moved to sit next to him placing a soft hand of reassurance on his shoulder. She smiled to him. Zariel began to unravel his thoughts upon her expressing his worried feelings; only the night bore witness as a second guest.


[Image: WoWScrnShot_091711_034323.jpg]

A light flashed near the backside of the island. There was a hooded figure standing in the midst of green after smoke from the teleportation. He coughed cursing the transporter on the other end. The robes he wore were a deep purple laced with emerald green, his shoulders were adorned with stuffed snakes heads from which thick green smoke bellowed. A pale hand moved to grasp a small short staff from his back. The pair of eyes beneath the hood set on their target, two bodies sitting in the sand. He approached from the northwest and stood atop a small hill watching for a long moment before the two spotted him. Zariel perked a brow and stood, “I’ve got this…” The mage made his way across the dancing sands in the middle of the island. With a single motion the figure on the hill flicked the short staff to life. Blazing rune stones soared out of each end connected by thick arcane energy. He descended the hill. Zariel stopped half way to him, he knew however that should it require him to cast he would be well within range. A voice came from beneath the hood, “Ah. Young Nova I presume?” Zariel was both shocked and angered by the eerie shadowed figure, “Who wants to know?” The man laughed, “I have an offer for you leader of House Novalight.” Zariel folded his arms, “I’m listening.” Annabelle rose and dashed inside retrieving a staff of her own design. She waited ready near the doorway. The man’s voice came again, “Either serve with us willingly… Or be crushed under out great weight.” Nova furrowed his brow as he began to channel a spell from his vast arsenal, “I decline.” With a crackling sound, arcane energies danced around his hand for a moment before bursting forth heading for the cloaked man. The man spoke a word in a deep old tongue causing green flames to rise up swallowing the arcane display. Zariel’s eyes widened, “Fel…” Laughter rang out from behind the flames, “Yes. Fel.” A large ball of flaming black shadow shot through the flaming wall and collided hard with Zariel’s arcane shield shattering it.


Annabelle sprang from his hiding spot taking a knee and lifting the staff onto her shoulder. Blinding light exploded from the contraption sailing for the robed man. It bled through his wall of fire and struck him flush knocking him down. He cursed. Anna smiled standing up proud as she looked to Zariel who was dusting himself off coughing, “Damn… didn’t expect that…” Laughter rose again from the robed man as he stirred moving to stand once more. The floating runes danced around the ends of his staff for a moment before they vanished. Sand near the man took on some of the runes and began to rise forming the shape of a small summoning circle. Zariel took a step back shielding his eyes from the bright red flames that shot up from the ground in the middle of the circle. Annabelle did the same. The hooded man held out a flexed hand as if he was pulling something very heavy from the circle. Within moments a large eight foot armored beast stood next to him. It held a rather large axe and the armor decorated with huge spikes of steel. Annabelle gasped, “A Felguard!” Zariel took a staggered step backwards into a ready stance a look of worry gracing his brow.

Zariel wasted no time as he began making quick complex hand signs, a second later his body split into three copies all of which hurled medium sized ice shards at the large creature. The large Demon was having none of it as it merely raised its massive arms to block the impressive spell. Impact rang out as the volley slammed into the Felguard. A hand moved to cover the hooded man’s face. Once the dust had settled a very large, very angry Felguard stood unscratched and determined to make the mage pay. Zariel stood mouth gaped, “Wha-..” Before he could finish the beast was on him. Luckily for him his elven body was built for speed as he managed to avoid the slow yet devastating swings of the monster. The hooded man began to speak in tongues as he prepared another hellish spell. Zariel quickly reached for an empty hilt at his side. He drew it, and then with a flicker of magic and a spoken word it sprang to life with arcane frost fire.

[Image: WoWScrnShot_091711_035523.jpg]

Annabelle rifled her mind with haste trying to think of a way to deal with the Felguard so that Zariel could focus on the now obvious Warlock. Bing! She had a plan. The Warlock raised his hands shouting a hellish verse that summoned a pillar of fire that engulfed Zariel, the Elf screamed as he rolled out of his trying to put himself out.

Anna would get only one shot at this and she had to make it count to gain the Demons attention. Her hand moved to the head of her staff. She dashed in between the Demon and Zariel, a button was pushed. From the head of the staff a searing hot white light leapt out in a wave of force crashing into everyone within a ten yard radius. Zariel’s burns began to slowly heal and close while the Demon stomped with rage as its flesh blistered and burned. The warlock tried to shield himself but had little time to do so. A wave of holy force sent him to his back. Zariel stood grasping his arcane sword, his chance was now. He could not let this opportunity go to waste. With a decent speed he charged the Warlock greeting him with a whirlwind of arcane frost fire from his blade. Slashes struck home burning deep into the man’s flesh. He shouted in anger and clutched his burning flesh. The Warlock took defensive action quickly placing an open palm in Zariel’s direction letting a ball of fel energy loose from his forearm. Energies pulsed around his wrist and leapt at the Elf with a promise of pain. Nova had but a second to react. He did the only thing that came to his mind. Blink! Zariel appeared behind the Warlock standing even further up on the hill.


The Demon grew hot with anger. His foot slammed the ground as he prepared to assault the little human female. A charge of speed and hate was coming at Anna like a Tram cart in a very small tunnel. She did her best to move. The fury of swipes from the Felguard’s axe luckily missed her by a hair but she was determined not to stick around for another. She took position near the Warlock viewing him as the catalyst for the whole event. She called to Zariel who was staring with a perked brow at the tattoo symbol worn on the chest of the hooded figure. Although his torn robes did little to cover the design it was still hard to make out. Anna took a swing at the Warlock with her staff and came up short as he dove to the side to avoid it, not having time for magic. A very angry Felguard seized the moment charging in spiked shoulder first. It happened fast, no one was prepared for it. Zariel called out but Anna could hear nothing. The only thing that rang through her head was one word, pain. The Felguard lifted her with his spike and tossed her to the side like a bull. Annabelle hit the sand rolling and coughing up a few crimson specs. Laughter resounded from the Warlock as he head fell back to the sky. Zariel’s fist tightened. He had enough. Arcane lightning flickered around his shoulders; his teeth clenched grinding together in anger. A vein pulsed in his forehead as he strained to summon his entire wrath into creation. The lightning surged and licked his arms as it made its way down to his hands. Holding both hands out in front of him he allowed his fingers to act as tesla coils channeling the arcane lightning into a large storm of rage. The Warlock was stunned, “What the hell?!” A crackling pop was heard followed by a thunderous BOOM! Lighting collided with the hooded figure’s chest and vibrated through his entire body. He convulsed for a moment then flew back a good fifteen feet landing in the sand and rolling another two or three.

Anna struggled to stand. Zariel arms smoking and all rushed to her side as quickly as he could. The Demon began his slow death march for the two, “My Masters wishes shall be done.” His eyes locked on Annabelle. Nova stood and made his way towards the Demon as he began to channel another spell, something felt odd though. The Felguard was not charging or in that big of a hurry to engage, why? Zariel slowed his pace; the words came almost as sudden as the idea “A trick!” He rounded to face Anna. His vision locked on the man holding Anna from behind by the throat and holding a dagger to her neck. The Warlock wore his hood no longer and Zariel was taken by surprise at what he saw. It was a Blood Elf with golden blond hair and soft features. He spoke, “Nova you fool, you really thought we would blow our hand now?” Laughter rose again from the Warlock. Zariel stood ready though he didn’t know what to do. Before he had time to think both Anna and the Lock vanished in a plume of green smoke. The Felguard soon followed. Nova stood alone and in shock, he staggered towards the dying smoke “A-Anna?...” He glanced around frantically. A hand went to his head as his brain caught up with him, “Anna!.. No… NO!.. ANNA!”……
[Image: 15.jpg]
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CHAPTER 3: The Devil Has a Face


Sounds of rain drumming softly off of a large metal structure echoed off the backdrop of the night. Zangermarsh was not known for its amazing weather. A female figure hung chained to a wall in a pyramid shaped building in the middle of a large bog. She was bound both at ankle and wrist, the body slumped unconsciously. There was a second figure watching her, he was an Elf of average height. His hair golden blonde and his skin pearl white. Robes of emerald and purple draped freely over his frame. The woman stirred while she began to gain consciousness. A chuckle came from the Elf as he turned to take his leave from the building. Outside the wind was harsh. Rain was now coming down hard and on a sideways slant. Purples and blues played with their cousin green against the starry night sky high above the marsh. Large mushrooms decorated the floor of the swamp. Most towered over your average human built house and wore vibrant violet and emerald crowns. The Elf draped in robes pulled a small crystal from a tattered worn pouch hanging from his belt line. He held it tightly for a moment as it glowed bright. A few minutes later a large rift tore open in front of him, a towering Elf stepped from within the now clear picture of Silvermoon. He spoke, “You had better have Zariel inside child… Or you will not like what happens next.” The smaller Elf nodded nervously motioning for him to step inside, “P-please my Lord. A gift awaits your grand design.” With a nod the towering Elf headed for the pyramid shaped building.

Inside Annabelle struggled as she opened her eyes, she spoke through a dry mouth “Wh-where am I?” Her hair was matted and damp with sweat; marks shown on her wrists from where her weight had forced her body to sag in the shackles. The clothes she wore were damp and covered in sand still clinging to her every crevice. A figure approached her; she could see it stood about six feet eight inches and had rather large ears. Perhaps it was a night elf? She thought to herself, no. The figure that moved into her vision now was not a Night Elf. He was a large Blood Elf covered in scarlet and gold robes; his figure wore a mantle of silver spikes that had arcane runes dancing brightly on them. Anna spoke, “Who are you?” A strong closed fist slammed into her right cheek hard. She felt every ring he wore. His voice was both smooth yet rigid, “You will only speak when spoken to Human.”

The girl’s cheek was red with anger where he had struck her. Lord Elrohir’s kindness was not present often, especially not here. He began pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his cloak in thought. Anna thought now was a wonderful time for an insult as she rubbed her cheek on her shoulder, “So, how hard is it to get through doorways with those spikes?” Another large fist crashed into her face this time the force had been increased in a show of punishment, “Try my patience again girl. You’ll find hell does have face.” Blood dripped freely from her now split lip. Anna’s body sagged once from the blow but her resolve remained. El moved back away from her as he spoke “Annabelle Greene, wielder of the light and technology.” The look that graced her face was one of shock and worry. How could he know me? El answered the presumed question “I know much about you. My resources are many child.” She shook the lingering pain from her mind as her face throbbed. El returned to pacing, “Tell me what you know of the Novalight’s.” Anna struggled against the chains as panic began to grip her “No.” The Elf stopped his stride, he took two large steps to reach her. His palm slammed into her chin hard rocking her head off the stone work behind it. El clenched her jaw line in his hand letting his sharp nails slowly sink into her flesh. With a jerk he made her meet his gaze, “Listen you pathetic little girl, you will tell me what I want to know or find your already short life shorter lived.” Her eyes widened. His hand shoved her head away from his grasp “I ask you once more. Tell me of the young Zariel.” Anna tried to move her feet but failed “No.” His eyes narrowed, “Then you leave me little choice girl.” A hand drifted within his robes and revealed a small silver tool that looked much like a wrench with two small grasping ends. El grabbed her face again and forced her mouth open. Anna wiggled against his hands but she was in no position to try anything. El closed the device on one of her back teeth, “Tell me.” She shook her head as fear seeped from her eyes. A sudden shot of pain and copper taste filled her mouth. The Elf ripped a molar from her head. El released the tooth onto the floor. Anna jerked in the chains, she tried to scream but blood pooled in the back of her throat “Tell me now?! NO! Better yet! Let us try again!” The Elf shoved and angry hand back into her mouth and held it open once more. He jerked, tugged, and ripped the second tooth free. Tears ran freely down her face as she pulled on the chains holding her wrists. Lord Elrohir stepped back to examine his fine work for a moment, “Still you do not speak. Then we shall teach you how to share.”


He turned and moved to the middle of the room his hands slowly raised facing east and west, open palms struggled to raise skywards against an unseen force. Large glowing runes began to etch themselves in the marble floor. After a moment of speaking in a strange arcane tongue the runes pulsed then slowly smoked a foul green. Anna struggled harder against the chains trying to free her hands. El stopped chanting, his face remained void of emotion. The now drifting green smog that stood over each rune was disappearing and what stood in its place was horrifying. Two large Felguards, though they wore no armor or carried their axes they did clench two huge fists. The Warlock spoke again, “This is your last chance Human. Answer me or face their wrath.” Anna struggled feverishly against the chains. She jerked and tugged and fought for freedom. But it never came. Lord Elrohir folded his arms across his firm chest, “Educate the child.” The two Felguards descended upon her with crushing force, their fists collided into her fragile tiny body. A smile slowly spread across El’s face as he watched. Anna grunted, squealed, and screamed as the Felguards shattered bone and dislocated joints. Her ribs crackled and popped after one of them slammed his knee into her stomach. Another snapping pop was heard as the other Felguard let his fist bash her shoulder. The beating went on for several minutes. Lord Elrohir held up a hand as a sign to stop, “You have done well minions. Stand back.” They complied without further thought. Anna now slumped beaten and bloody in the chains. Blood pooled freely from a few large wounds and her skin was already starting to bruise heavily.


El moved to her motionless body. He removed a small vial from one of the many pockets of his robes, “You will serve me one way or another wench.” A forceful hand grabbed her shattered jaw and poured the contents of the vial half in her mouth and half on her face. El slowly moved away, his hands waved in a shooing motion at both Felguards who in turn vanished with a plume of green smoke. A second wave of his hand caused the chains to disappear from the wall letting Anna crash helplessly to the hard floor in a beaten blood heap of bruised flesh. Lord Elrohir turned swiftly heading outside. Laughter rose from the smaller Elf waiting for him, “My Lord I could hear your wonderful work inside. Did she give you anything?” Pain shot through the small Elf’s body causing him to crumble on his knees “M-my L-lord!.. P-please!” El’s casting hand revealed itself from a long sleeve, “Listen you pathetic excuse for my cousin, this failure to bring me the boy Zariel will be your last mistake do you understand me?!” The pain increased with his anger. A nod from the smaller Elf confirmed his answer. El released him from the spell and stepped through the still open portal. Rain fell hard still as the small Elf collected himself and tried to stand strong. His vision was focused on the portal; he grunted forcing his way through the arcane gateway. Wind howled through the now empty building leaving a broken bloody Annabelle lying in a pool of her own life essence.
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CHAPTER 4: A Strange Passenger

Two weeks had passed since El left Anna broken and bloody in Outlands. Zariel was lucky enough to find her through his ways as a Magus, although word quickly reached Lord Seregon’s ears of this. Elrohir, being the experience chess player that he is sent out his feelers for information on the young Nova. They returned with a rare piece of information. One that the Lord would find most useful, a young Magus who had just graduated the order had stumbled across a rare spell among the users of Arcane. The young scholar’s gift was soon to be revealed…


El paced silently in his chambers deep within his estate in Silvermoon. A large glowing green Orb floated at the center of the room while his family members gathered in quiet awe of their leader. Large shadows moved behind the crowd. They were El’s personal bodyguards, Flaatom and his brother. Two large Felguards summoned by their Lord for protection during this ritual. The Elf’s hand moved to touch the vibrant orb. A light shot forth engulfing El in a neon green hue; he spoke “Speakers of the dark hear my call. Your Lord summons you.” Guttural groans could be heard echoing around the room as the lights dimmed yet they came from no mouth. Elrohir tightened his grip on the orb, “I summon you now… to your Masters call!” Bright flashes went out blinding the crowd. Hands moved to cover faces and shield eyes. The Warlock remained erect. Light slowly returned to the room and standing near the Elf was a large floating aberration, a voidwalker “You have called on us my Master. We have answered.” El smiled “I have a task for you. You will venture to the void fields in Outlands. Once there you will contact me with information regarding the rifts you find there. Is this understood?” The voidwalker nodded once, “The Masters will, be done.” El’s face darkened as a devilish smile crept across his face. Crackling sparks shot everywhere as the voidwalker vanished from sight.

The ritual was a success. Lord Elrohir stepped away waiving those around him off, “Well… Go tend your duties or something. Find me what you can on the young Nova’s means of travel, he must be hiding somewhere. I want answers.” Many nodded before leaving in haste. A soft voice called from the shadows, “Uncle. You summoned me?” El smiled as his niece stepped from the darkness. Her skin was pale yet smooth like porcelain and her beauty was accentuated by her calm winter like nature. The large Elf stepped forward calling her near, “I certainly did my dear.” Elihanara stepped forward “What is it you wish of me Uncle?” She was eager to impress her Uncle and not meet the same fate as her weak Father. Lord Elrohir placed a long nailed hand on her shoulder, “I have a task for you my child. One that calls for cunning, are you up to it?” Eli smiled with a nod. Elrohir turned back to the orb speaking “I have slipped the young Miss Annabelle Greene a potion that will allow us to find her location once. I need you find her, and perhaps have a lady to lady chat with her. See if you can get her to tell you of her involvement with the Novalight organization. I need to know all I can on them. This war will not be over quickly. Should I need to go to ground on them knowledge of her involvement would prove most useful.” Eli smiled with a nod, “It shall be done Uncle. I will not fail you.” A firm hand grasped her shoulder as El turned to face her, “See that you don’t….” There was a warning in his tone. She bowed gracefully and set out gliding through the blue silk curtains.

Rain dotted the streets as the messenger made like a rabbit for the grand House of Seregon’s official public residence. He pounded on the grand oaken gold laced doors, “My Lord! Message!” One of the Butlers answered, “Yes?” The boy spoke, “I have news for the Lord Seregon sir.” A perked brow returned the boys statement “I shall take this message to him child. He does not speak with common folk.” The child handed over the damp sealed letter and jolted off into the rainy afternoon.


Steps sounded out on the marble staircase. The Butler did his best to dry the sealed note as he climbed, higher and higher. El sat at a desk scribbling on parchments as several open books floated around him. Occasionally he would call one close and rifle the pages with a flick of his finger. A voice came, “My Master a messenger boy left this for you.” Elrohir motioned for him to leave the note and go. He received no argument from the Butler who did just that. The note sat damp and crinkled for several long minutes before El finally got to it after finishing his work, his long black nail opened with ease. A beam of excitement danced in his eyes, “Splendid.” He said while reading.

“Dear Lord,
I have found the young boy you heard of. He is willing to take the task we offer him so long as you see to his Wife’s financial state and wellbeing for their child. I informed him a few days later that you had given the okay and that you needed their whereabouts. After he gave them to me I have my agents pick them up and dispose of them along with the remainder of her bloodline. She was child to a single Mother and sister to a brother. There were no other siblings, and as you know the young Magus has no family. He believes his family is under your care, and there is no way for this to fall back on you. The -Shadow Dancers- will make sure of that. The plan will go as expected.”

Elrohir sat back in his chair for a long moment before bursting into a mad laughing fit. His head falling back to the ceiling, “When the Nova’s main flag ship next makes port, they shall have a new passenger to –brighten- up the crew.” He sat for a moment laughing in the darkness of his own office.


The sun broke throw the clouds and shown bright on the ship’s deck. Nova stood speaking with the Warmage Barlton and the young Miss Annabelle while Mastus remained below deck. Crewmembers moved about the flag ship tending to their duties, yet one was new and stood out to the captain. A cracking whip snapped to the rail near some of the workers, “You! Pick up the pace! Get that crate below deck before I make fish food out of you boy!” A smirk came from the new member, “Yessss, Captain.” His hands grasped the large box of supplies and moved below deck. Zariel perked a brow as the new addition to the crew passed. His long “Ssssss…” did not sit well with him and he sought to investigate this strange new enigma of an Elf. Nova followed him below deck and cornered the man near one of the cannons where he seemed to be fidgeting with something, Zariel readied a spell “You there!... What are you doing?” Mastus perked up from his nap atop one of the cannon barrels, “Huh?” The strange Elf spoke, “Nothing Ssssssir Nova. I wasssssss jusssst fixing to head back up.” Mastus glanced between the two. Soon the others drifted down from above deck. Anna perked a brow to the scene as she entered and Barlton stood ready as a trained Magus of battle. Zariel spoke firm, “Who are you? And how did you get on my ship?” He received a quick good answer, “You picked me up back in port Ssssir Nova. Asssss an extra deck hand.” Nova tapped a thinking finger on his chin; Mastus dismounted the cannon nodding to Barlton. The Warmage loosed a small fireball at the man clearly testing him. A hand rose blocking the basic spell as anyone with arcane knowledge would have done. Barlton snorted, “He’s no deck hand.” Laughter rose from the man as he began to glow with blinding light. Zariel shielded his eyes, “What the hell?!.... Get down everyone!” Mastus moved to tackle Zariel out of the way but he was too late. The strange passenger’s body began to crack revealing white hot flames sheltered within his frame. Without warning the man exploded with a rage filled scream! The ship’s hull and upper deck burst into a fire filled pillar topped with a black plume of smoke that stretched skyward. Wood was sent rocketing into the air hundreds of feet above. The large mast toppled over and the boat cracked in half quickly taking on water and finding its grave beneath the black waves of the sea. Zariel and Mastus remained unconscious from the concussion of the blast. Luckily for them Barlton and Annabelle were there to drag them up from the depths of the waves as pieces of the ship rained down around them telling the tale of a tragic ending to Zariel’s long trusted crew and Captain. The group washed up on shore somewhere near Tanaris, it was there they rested and gathered themselves. Half a world away and several days later another letter graced Lord Elrohir’s desk. His lips twisted in an evil smile. The passenger had done his part well.
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Chapter 5: Prelude to the Coming Darkness


Elrohir stood firm, his back to the spiraling staircase in his tower deep in the heart of Netherstorm. A hand remained hovering over a pulsing orb that sat atop a metal winged stand. Flaatom was near stalking in the shadows of the room watching over his master. There was a man cloaked in black standing a few feet back from Elrohir he spoke, “My Dark Lord, I have retrieved the gem you requested. Many necks were opened in search of this and your will has been carried out on the matter of the young Prince Mastus. He will be found soon. Also I have the parchment you asked for, though there are no markings on it.” El removed his hand from the orb as he made three large strides to the cloaked figure, “You’ve done well my child. The parchment was not meant for your simple eyes, that is why you do not see it. You may receive your gold on the way out.” The figure bowed low, “Yes Dark Lord.” It slithered back into the shadows before heading downstairs. Flaatom stepped from the darkness, “You think it wise to let him live Master?” Elrohir pivoted to his left backhanding the large beast, “I do not keep you around to think wretch!” Flaatom inclined his head, “Forgive me Master, I forgot my place.”

Downstairs the cloaked man headed for the group of guards. One of them was holding a small leather sack, “Here is your payment.” The guard tossed it to the figure with a nod. Seated on the railing overlooking the group was a small imp, Zorkol. His little head nodded to the group of guards as the cloaked figure passed between them. Before the shadowed figure had a chance to defend itself several short swords were drawn and piercing the torso of the figure. Blood painted the floor and guards armor in violent spurts as they thrust into the body. A few gurgling screams were heard as the hood slid back revealing a young elven woman beautiful to look at had it not been for the twisted horror filled face she now wore as a permanent fixture. Zorkol jumped down folding his tiny arms while he watched the guards stab into the now slumped heap on the floor, “That’s enough boys.” Came his tiny voice, “Master will be most pleased with our work.” The guards backed away wiping off their blades and armor. Zorkol hopped over to her twitching body she struggled desperately to move but only choking words gurgled through her throat. The woman remained clinging to life while Zorkol’s tiny hands inspected her face. A violent growl came from the imp as he jerked her head to the side and bit into her throat ripping what flesh and veins he could with his fangs. He sat for a moment chewing on her before he stood wiping his mouth, “I’ve always wanted to do that. Whelp! I’m off to tell the Dark Lord boys. Clean this up.” One of the guards bowed low, “Yes Zorkol.”


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Elrohir took the blank parchment over to his desk. Flaatom leaned over the railing watching Zorkol skip and hop up the towers spiraled staircase, “Master, Zorkol is coming to tell you of his success no doubt.” El grinned, “He is an ambitious little snot is he not?” Flaatom grunted, “I guess…” Zorkol reached the top of the staircase just as Elrohir spread the blank page over the desktop. He spoke, “Master the woman is dead.” El nodded then simply waved him off with a free hand. Zorkol spoke up irritated, “Master! I did good yes?” Elrohir shot him a warning glance causing his face to grow dark. The imp shrank back into the darkness where he remained. Flaatom moved to view the parchment, “I see nothing Master. What is this?” A sly smile spread across El’s face, “This Flaatom is a spell. A very old and rare spell to boot.” Flaatom scratched his chin in frustration, “I see no spell on this paper.” Elrohir exhaled in irritation, “Because it was not meant for your eyes…” As Elrohir glanced down at the page once more bright green letters began to burn themselves onto the page in demonic tongue. The page smoked and danced with fel energy as the each word took shape. Flaatom watched as El stood smiling at a blank page. Zorkol hopped around in the darkness trying to see what was going on. Elrohir spoke as he pulled a large leather bound box from beneath his desk, “This spell is used to locate a very old artifact. One that I was informed the Novalight’s are seeking as well. These… skulls are very unique indeed. I have sent several rogues to find out about their information, all have turned up dead. Finally by chance I caught wind of this while I was studying one of the old texts on ritual casting.” Flaatom scratched his head as he listened. Elrohir pulled several reagents from the box including a large purple crystal shard that had recently been stolen from him, “This Flaatom is like a lightning rod for this specific artifact. It will locate the one I seek, one that bares no master to it. One that will be bound to my dark will…” Flaatom took a hesitant step back, “I… see Master.” A wicked grin came from the Elf, “You didn’t think that supply line of mine was attacked on accident did you?... Oh no, the powers that guard these weapons could not allow me to further my search for this crystal. Unfortunately for them my plan to draw them out worked, and all I had to do was inform others that they had stolen from us. Just like that the dogs came running for scraps of gold and rewards on the bounty.” Elrohir chuckled while gathering the spell components. He made his way to the channeling orb, “Now… Flaatom. You will protect me while I search…” The light in the room seemed to dim almost on cue as the Warlock began to channel his dark arts in search of…. The prismatic skull.
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Chapter 6: Hell Fire and Brimstone


Elrohir sat at his summoning orb awaiting the arrival of his usual Monday guest. Flaatom stood near a large set of double doors near the entrance to the study. Within moments the orb began to pulse signaling El that the guest was ready to arrive. The Warlock held out his hand above the green swirling sphere speaking a few demonic words. A black and green smoke soon seeped freely from the orb taking the shape of a tall hooded figure draped in void energy. It spoke with a metallic voice, “Lord Elrohir, you have done well in weakening your foes and tracking down this Prismatic skull you spoke of. However these events that you spoke of at the Noble Summit are troublesome indeed. We believe that this new threat requires much more of your attention than that of your people.” Elrohir went to speak but hesitated a moment. The dark figure spoke, “Speak your mind Warlock.” El quickly found his will, “I do not agree demon. Bringing my people back to their full potential is my top priority and I will do whatever it takes to get them there even if it means by force.” The seething black cloak chuckled in a deep tone, “Do not get ahead of yourself Elrohir. Your people will be rewarded in time. First you must do as we have talked about. The sacrifices must be made.” El turned around moving to his desk returning with a stack of parchment “These are the most likely candidates for your ritual.” The figure’s cloak opened. With a slight dimming of light in the room the papers floated from El’s hand and were absorbed into the figure, “We shall speak on the new agreement in a moment.” Elrohir perked a brow at the statement. Flaatom gritted his teeth near the door; the figure did not sit well with him. One could tell by his massive hands tightening on his axe hilt with every passing second. A voice called from the hall it was El’s butler “My Lord I have prepared your letter to House Blackstone. Shall I send it?” Elrohir’s eyes never left the dark mass, “I will tend my business when I am finished in my study. Until then be sure all remain clear of my estate.” Flaatom perked a brow. The butler called back, “It shall be done my Lord.” A chuckle came from the demon, “All business and no play, that’s why we like you Lord Elrohir.” Flaatom returned to scowling at the two near the pulsing orb. The room had a tall vaulted ceiling and the walls were laced with books and artwork from different elven ages past. White marble made the floor and golden inlay danced around the edges accenting the large study. A single large floating brazier lit the room with a greenish orange hue that came from the fire flickering within the steel disc. Elrohir stared deep into the dark cloaked figure as if searching for a weakness that was not there. It spoke again, “Tell me of this prismatic skull again.” El remained silent for a long moment before speaking as he slowly circled the edge of the room making his way back behind his desk “It is old… very old. There is almost no records of it I had to piece several myths together and from that I was able to trace a specific scrying ritual that would allow me to find where it was hidden… or rather narrow it down to a five mile radius.” Smoke began to bellow from beneath the cloak near the figures feet. It stunk of sulfur and choked the air around the demon with ash. Flaatom remained silent his hands now came to rest atop his axes hilt as the head remained on the floor. Elrohir held up a map, “I have completed the ritual and found that it resides in…” He stopped suddenly, “Somewhere in Kalimdor.” The demon gave a snort as the smoke puffed from beneath him, “Kalimdor?! That is the best you can do?” Elrohir slowly slipped the now rolled map into his robes, “I know where the object lies in wait… and that is all that need be known.” Flaatom chuckled to himself. That statement did well to stir the demon, “All that need be known?!... I must say that the Dark One will be most displeased with this Lord Elrohir. However, you shall bring it to us regardless of whether or not you wish to play this game with me.” Elrohir lightly drummed his long black nails atop his oaken desk, “The skull could be used against this coming threat. Those cultists that attacked the Summit are part of something bigger; you do not wield power such as that and serve no one. I sense another player throwing his hat into the hat of Azeroth’s power pool. I will do what I must for my people, if that means using the skull before giving it over to the legion then so be it.” A chilled wind howled through the room yet no window was opened. El kept his eyes locked on the figure as it spoke, “You try my patience young Elf… But my Master likes you for reasons unknown to me.” Flaatom let his upper lip curl in anger, “Do –not- insult my Lord again fiend…” Laughter erupted from the demon as it cast a glance at the Fel Guard. Elrohir moved quickly to disarm the situation, “Flaatom… Leave the room.” The large creature cast a look of concern, “But my Lord…” El snapped, “I said leave us!... All is well old friend…” His elven eyes told Flaatom all he needed to know. With a bow the Fel Guard removed himself from the room closing the large cherry wood doors behind him. They echoed with thunderous force upon their sealing. Elrohir nodded to the figure. Another chill darted through the room when the demon spoke, “Let us continue on with our current business. You will find the skull use it to wipe out this new threat then turn it over to the Legion.” El said nothing; he did however nod in response. A quick word spoken by the demon called the sulfur fog back into the swirling dark of his cloak, “Now let us speak of the ritual. We require ten bodies for the sacrifice to be complete. I have decided those you selected are lacking in the realm of worthy.” Elrohir went to speak but was cut off, “You!.. Will provide us with new youthful bodies Lord Elrohir. These bodies will come from within your own House. We require a female conduit for the calling and your young Niece has caught the Masters eye. You will hand these people including the youthful Elihanara over to us within two weeks. Is that understood Elf?”


Elrohir slammed both hands down hard on the desk, “You wish to enslave –my- family? All that I have worked for resides with them. I have brought this family to the main fold of power through my sheer will to dominate and you want to take that from us?!” Laughter rose once more from the shadowed demon, “Your people are tools to serve the Legion Elrohir do not forget that. You will hand them over!” Books began to slowly levitate from their homes, papers shook upon the desk as Elrohir trembled with anger “I refuse.” The demons voice was shocked, “You-… You what?!” El spoke through clenched teeth “I have served your Legion faithfully for years and you seek to reward me by enslaving my House?!” Sulfur returned to the air in the room once the demon responded, “Careful who you speak to in that tone mortal!... You know not the hell you are walking in currently… so you will show me my respect due!” El slowly raised his head from its current hanging position between his locked arms that propped him up on the desk. His nails sank deep into the wood leaving large gouges missing, “No fiend… it is you who should take care…” A shudder of rage shot through his body. The demon took a step back realizing the Warlock had been channeling the whole time. Books began to swirl about the room freely, “Elrohir!... You wouldn’t dare…” Before the demon could get another word out Elrohir sprang his arms out wide and loosed a shout of rage at the demon. Fire exploded from the walls washing over the room and bathing all that it could touch in flame. Dark magic surrounded the demon dousing out the flames that engulfed it. With the cloak of the beast now burned it revealed a red face ripe with rage and several tentacles hanging from its chin, “You fool!” The demon quickly summoned two shadow spheres that surges in his palms before he hurled them at the Warlock. El threw his hands up and without any show of real force his desk left the ground and took the two spheres splintering into thousands of wooden shards. He remained safe behind a green shield encasing his body. Fire raced up the walls for the ceiling. Elrohir spoke a few quick words in demonic causing green fire to bound from his left hand towards the demon who quickly countered by spinning around and swallowing the flames into what was left of his cloak. Outside Flaatom remained calm. He took a few steps back from the door and readied his axe while crouching low. Inside the room Elrohir shouted his casting. The rage gave him power. His hands volleyed several black flaming balls at the demonic fiend three of which crashed home with force sending the creature to a knee. It was not about to go quietly however as it made a single hand gesture a void pit opened beneath Elrohir’s feet. He screamed in pain as the dark shockwaves shook his body. El rifled his vast mind for the counter spell speaking it fast before another shockwave was released. With the pit dispelled Elrohir knew the fight must end quickly before the demon had a chance to collect him and teleport out. The Warlocks face strained as an open palm stretched out in the direction of the demon who now wore a worried look, “You… wanted slavery fiend…. Well… Here is a taste of things to come!” Green and black chains burst from the floor surrounding the demon. Each chain was adorned with a small meat hook that sank deep into the devils flesh. Elrohir slowly began to close his fist binding the demon to his will, it resisted… at first. After a moment the fire that surrounded them began to weaken the structure of the ceiling causing rather large pieces to collapse into the room. One of the pieces fell near El breaking his casting state causing him to stagger. The demon tore one of the chains from his flesh, “I’ll… not… be bound!” Elrohir seeing he did not have time to bind the demon once more began reciting an old demonic incantation. The demons body began to crack from the inside out as blood ran free from several large gapping crevices in its torso. With the final word of the spell spoken the demon gave a shuddered exhale of green fel before it screamed in horror as its soul caught fire causing it to implode. Fire raced freely through the room now and quickly wished to claim Elrohir who staggered falling to his knees. Smoke filled his lungs as he shouted for his readied guard, “Flaatom!” Without hesitation the huge beast chopped the door down with a few charging swings of his axe. The fire in the room burst outwards licking the Fel Guards flesh but he cared not. His target was El and that’s all he cared about. Flaatom darted through the flames and with a jerking snatch threw Elrohir over his shoulder before charging back out of the flaming room. The beast set a coughing El down in the marble hall outside then vanished at the sound of voices racing up the staircase. Luckily three of Elrohir’s mage guards were able to tend the flames using their frost magic while Elrohir collected himself.

After a few minutes of allowing fresh air into his lungs the Warlock stood and held a hand out towards the burning room. A green orb leapt forth after being called to Elrohir’s hand. He quickly wrapped it within his robes and headed down the stairs. Flaatom spoke through Elrohir’s mind, “What does this mean my Lord?” El’s face grew dark. He cast a few glances around before speaking again making sure everyone was focused on putting out the fire and tending to the remains of the room, “It means our relationship with the Legion has come to a close… House Seregon will serve as their puppets no longer.”
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[[ Woo~! Saved from being a Conduit, thanks!

Interesting that Elrohir is chosing to add an angry betrayed Legion to his list of problems. :) ]]
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Chapter 7 (Act two): Loosing The Hellcaller


It has been several long months since the disappearance of Lord Elrohir Seregon from his mantle as House head. His trusted niece Elihanara was left in charge of the estate affairs and has since done all she can to help insure that her Uncle’s House remained whole. All seemed quiet on the Legions front concerning the family though shadows silently moved against them slowly placing pawns in motion to strike when needed. All attempts to contact Elrohir ended only in silence and missing messengers… but now, at the turn of the tide his return was much needed. Though his nature had… changed.

Hot fel dust swirled around a tall cloaked figure walking through the blackened fields of Shadowmoon Valley. Silver hair slipped out from beneath the cloak top as the figure turned to view an oncoming rider. The rider was short and fat. Its skin a dull green with runic symbols carved into the torso and shoulder area of the body. A halting hand rose from the cloaked figure that now stood defensively as the rider quickly spoke, “Lord Seregon. The Master has sent me to check on your progress. How are you?” Elrohir coughed beneath the hood as the dark soot filled air filled his lungs. He hissed, “Tell your Master my research will be complete soon and then all I require is his end of the bargain.” A nod came from the creature sitting atop the fel charger before it dashed away into the blowing sand of the horizon line. Elrohir coughed harshly a few more times looking down at a blood stained glove, “I’m running out of time….” The Elf began to channel feverishly. His sights fixed on a structure protruding from the surface of the ashen ground.

Long weeks had passed since Elrohir’s mysterious research in Shadowmoon began. He now stood before an uncovered crypt that had been slowly uncovered by the Warlock over the last few weeks. Elrohir stood breathing heavily, his brow damp with sweat. A twisted smile slithered across his face “Finally…” He hissed to the wind looking at the black charred doors of the crypt’s entrance way, “Well this should prove interesting.” His hand slowly raised while he spoke a few dark words of casting causing the door to pulse a bright green letting him know that the ward guarding it had been removed, “Or not…” The Elf sighed. Elrohir confidently took four large strides for the doorway. He stopped, “Wait… Why?...” He quickly summoned Flaatom to his side, “Flaatom. Enter that structure and kill everything inside.” The hulking Fel Guard grunted with a nod and headed for the crypt only to be stopped in his tracks by an unseen force “I thought so… Your kind is not welcome here. I assume the Legion had others form this housing unit for the key so that not even their kind could enter. And had I not tracked down that pathetic excuse for a Mage last month then I too would have fallen prey to that void ward placed on the door.” Flaatom scratched his head growing angry. Elrohir scoffed, “So this is why they need me… This idiot is lucky we share a common enemy otherwise he could rot for all I care. And he will if I don’t get what I am owed.” Flaatom quietly folded his arms watching the Elf speak to himself before moving down to the crypts doorway.


A chilled wind came from beneath the entrance way, “Odd…” Elrohir said before placing a hand on the door. Before the Elf knew what hit him an icy whirlwind of force exploded upon him as he opened the door. Elrohir was thrown back and quickly snatched out of the air by Flaatom, “Are you alright my Lord?” The Elf shook his head and staggered about for a bit “Well… I can see with all this knowledge I was given about the crypt they seemed to have left that part out…” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly in anger. Flaatom refolded his arms, “I shall await you here Master.” Elrohir dusted off his tattered black robe and moved down into the darkened staircase of the crypts doorway. His left hand conjured a small flame to light his path.

Inside the crypt the walls wore various ancient carvings of a creature bound in shadow and chains for his crimes against the Legion. Elrohir viewed them all as he passed descending further and further into the darkness below. He passed several tombs and obvious summoning circles where blood stained decaying chains now stood failing their test of time. The Warlock took note of a few books he would certainly like to take but he knew better than to steal from a place like this. Halls wore gleaming spider webs that shimmered in the light of his flame. Cracks crawled up every wall where the earth had begun to push its way in “Well good thing the wards at least held… Ah! There it is.” His steps stopped as he viewed the stonework coffin ahead. It had runic demonic writing on it some of which he could read some of which he could not “Splendid…” The Elf hissed nearing the lid. Elrohir stretched his hand out over the top of the coffin tracing some of the runes with a long black finger nail. A hand dove into his robes and revealed a small piece of parchment with a symbol on it. His nail found the symbol on the coffin and activated it. The lid slid off without help crashing to the stone floor and a foul stench quickly drowned the already choking air in the tomb. El brought his left sleeve up to cover his face letting the noxious gas pass. After a moment the air seemed less… foul. Flaatom shouted down, “Master?! I heard a crash!” El paid him little mind at this point. The Elf’s eyes set on a black key laced with silver trim. It wore a crown at one end with one of five tips broken off “The key to his shackles –was- here…. And they didn’t believe in my research! AGH HAHAHA!” His head fell back freely as the Warlock became lost in laughter.

Flaatom waited patiently leaning on his large axe. The demons eyes spotted a figure emerging from the crypt, “Master? Is everything alright?” Elrohir glanced up through silver bangs, “Oh yes my old friend… Let us make haste there is not time to waste! We must move before the Legion can track us.” Flaatom nodded lowering his head while Elrohir spoke the words of dismissing. The Fel Guard vanished in a plume of purple smoke. El climbed atop his fel charger and snapped the reign’s hard heading for the northern border of Shadowmoon. A harsh deep voice spoke to a figure watching the Elf leave, “We must stop him. If he frees that whelp then it’s our hides the Lord will have mounted on his walls.” The smaller of the two figures nodded, “We’ll follow him.” With a spoken strange word the two mysterious figures vanished in green flames.


Elrohir arrived outside of small cave entrance near the edge of Shadowmoon Valley. He glanced out over the ledge into the nothingness below the floating realm “How vast…” His tone was amused. A swinging motion of his right leg dismounted the large Elf. Voices called from the shadows near the cave entrance “You have it yesssss?” Elrohir spoke harshly, “Silence rabble, take me to your Master and stop wasting time. They could be watching…” A few small gnome sized figures wrapped in dirty brown cloaks scuttled out of the darkness ushering El through the caves entrance “Come, COME!” They travelled down long twisting caverns and over thin bridges of carved rock until they reach a set of doors that appeared to be made from simple metals “You must enter alone… ENTER ALONE!” The tiny creatures shouted with joy as they pushed on his caves. Elrohir snapped, “Alright! Alright!... Stop pushing you little runts.” The Warlock took a step forward as the doors slowly parted with a great groan of protest. Tiny hands and feet worked hard to open them, once El was inside the small creatures closed the doors behind him. Within the large cavernous room sat alone a figure wearing dark red armor. Its flesh was black as night and it wore no hair. The ears were elf like in nature yet not. It had eyes of solid red and bright canines that could be seen when it spoke, “Ah, the mighty Lord Elrohir come to visit an old dear friend at last.” Elrohir scoffed, “Enough with the formalities Marius… I have what you seek…” The demons eyes narrowed, “Prove it…” Without hesitation El revealed the key, “Bu-but how?!... That ward… I’ve sent countless others to try.” Elrohir carefully stroked the key in his palm “Well Marius I have my ways…” Marius laughed taking a step forward in El’s direction only to be stopped short by chains draped from his wrists and ankles “Come now… Free an old friend.” Elrohir shook his head, “You are no friend of mine traitor… You turned your back on the Legion and me when I could have used your guidance.” Marius brought a long dark talon to his chin thinking before speaking, “Last I heard… You too had fallen from –grace- with our beloved Legion.” Laughter rose from the hell spawns belly. El scoffed knowing the demon had a point, “Well then Marius… We had a deal… I will free you. But only if you will grant me the dark gift.” Marius paced as far as he could to either side of his resting place, “That –was- our deal… However… It would appear that deal has changed.” El perked a brow, “Oh?” Marius pointed a talon to the back of the room, “Now you have to kill them first….” Without warning a large volley of fire balls came crashing down around Elrohir who quickly shielded himself and dove out of the blast radius. Marius shouted, “Free me fool!” Two shadowed figures stood at the back of the room, one short the other average sized. Elrohir was quick to rise into a defensive casting state, “Legion….” His eyes narrowed. One of them spoke, “We will not allow you to take this prisoner from his cell.” Marius tugged enraged at his chains, “I’ll rip your hearts from your chests pathetic foot soldiers!” He spat the words with venom on his forked tongue. El backed up slowly to the shackled creature as the two figures circled him, “Give us the key Seregon… And we’ll let you live.” Elrohir broke into a dead sprint heading for Marius, “Right!” As he neared the demon his hand carrying the key hurled the tiny object to the floor at the feet of Marius, “Well…. Would you look at that…” His talons reached to grasp the dark key. The two figures stood frozen with fear as the chains fell freely to the ground. Marius rubbed his wrists, “You can scream for you Masters if you like…” With a snap of his fingers large shards of stone shot from the ground impaling the two creatures on spear tips. Elrohir hurled two rather large fel fire balls at both of them. The explosion was grand and the rain of body parts even grander. Marius stepped from the ledge looking down at Elrohir, “Well… I guess I should kill you now… But… We had a deal.” El still remained in a defensive casting state, “I will grant you the dark gift if you dedicate your time to earn it.” The Warlock stood lowering his hands, “I shall…” Marius nodded, “Then let us leave this prison… I tire of it.” A snap of his fingers ripped a portal open in reality, “After you… Seregon.” Elrohir gave the demon a stern look before stepping into the void of the portal. Marius followed with laughter that shook the cavern walls.
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A Dark Lords Revenge

WARNING: The following posts may contain graphic and violent material. Do not read if easily offended.

The following Thread was created for any and all who wish to participate in the Novalight/Seregon storyline. The Pharaoh and myself will be sparking the dual guild RP back to life in the coming days and we welcome all to join on either side. Anyone who wishes to get involved and post in this thread may do so.


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Elrohir strode heavily into his vast library of ancient texts on the northeastern grounds of his estate. A deal had been struck with the Novalight’s several days earlier to help free Cerise from the will of an evil demonic necromancer by the name of Redis in exchange for a price. Although Elrohir was well beyond his novice years as a caster he still took to studying foes like a fevered scholar in search of hidden answers to questions that he didn’t know to ask. A thunderous boom echoed through the large vaulted room as Flaatom closed the doors behind his master upon entering. The large creature knew not to let any disturb Elrohir during his research for fear of banishment. There was a stale smell lingering in the air and dust covered the floor made visible by the blood elf’s footprints. Elrohir neared a ladder and climbed it rather quickly and with determination as his eyes spotted the book he required. It had been almost a year since El set foot in his library, the Fel Sworn’s studies kept him away from home as he learned to master some of the darker arts. A thin hand reached for the book grasping it tightly before jerking it free from its resting place. Dust bellowed into the air around El he gave a swat at it with a cough, “Flaatom… Fetch the maids and have them deal with this non-sense.” The Felguard nodded, though he knew his master meant after their business was concluded. Elrohir descended the last few rungs of the ladder with a slower pace his foot finally coming to rest on the marble floor. He spoke, “Fetch me the volumes of Black Thorns Ritual Binding from my chambers.” With a wave of his hand El sent Flaatom away to do just that. Finally alone in peace and quiet he glanced down at the book in hand, “Ah… It has been a long time since I’ve read this one… -Demonic essence and Soul Binding-.” A long black nail brushed some silver hair from his eyes to better see the dark leather bound book. It was sealed with a zipper and a skeletal key lock that was once brass but had now turned a greenish gold with time. Elrohir made sure to keep all of his “darker” books away from Silvermoon and the prying eyes of family members. One of his black nails traced the cover before reaching down the neckline of his robe, from it he pulled a silver and black skeletal key with which he used to open to the dark book. Flaatom thundered back into the room with a stack of eight books each in numerical volume order from one-eight, top-to bottom. Elrohir looked at the stack then nodded to his old pet waving Flaatom off once more as he would begin his studies. The blood elf leafed through the pages until one perked his interest, “Hmmm… The source must be removed from power…” El read aloud to himself. He continued reading, “After the catalyst is removed it must then be sacrificed to summon the source, once the source is loosed it must also be removed in order for the agent to be free from binding….” El glanced at his own personal side note in the text that had been written in his younger years, “Ritual spell for source binding found in volume seven of Black Thorns Ritual Binding.” The Fel Sworn let a wicked smile crawl eerily across his face, “Ah yes… I knew it was here somewhere, now not only will the catalyst grant me its power but so too shall the source…” Elrohir let a few genuine laughs slip before breaking into his darker maniacal cackle, “AH! AH-HAHAHAH!... The whelps will never see it coming… and at the proper moment we will strike Flaatom, the Legion will know we are no pawns to their grand scheme… They will pay…”

King takes Queen


A black carriage sailed briskly through the mist filled woods of Silverpine, in the shadows worgen howled darting in and out of the dark trees beyond the white veil of fog. Tiny dim lanterns hung from the four outer corners of the moving fortress. There was a single driver and four heavy well fed horses. Within the carriage sat Elrohir Seregon, Lord to House Seregon and his companion Flaatom a large Felguard. A smile came from the Elf as he watched the worgen spring in and out of the pine wood. Flaatom sat quietly hunched over across from his master. Both were seated on crushed red velvet cushioned benches with golden thread inlaid into the crevices. Elrohir’s eyes burned a bright Fel green as the worgen neared the box cart. With a flare of demonic power the Elf hissed loudly at the creatures that in turn sank back into the mist unsure of what it was that dwelled within the dark cell like carriage. Flaatom spoke breaking the silence, “My Lord what if the Dark Lady will not part with one of her trusted scientists?” El looked to the Felguard, “She will. Not because of a forcing hand, oh no… but for her own gain she would gladly part with one. My House will offer her whatever her dark heart desires in exchange for one. It could be gold, services, or perhaps the use of our talents should she ever wish to use them.” Flaatom thought for a moment before responding, “I see. Forgive my lack of knowledge master…” Outside a wolf’s cry echoed through the cold night air as they neared Undercity, “Flaatom you will remain in the carriage for the time being…. I do not need you for this next phase of my plan. Obtaining this piece is essential to our next move in the game…” A violent flare showed through the Elf’s narrowing eyes. Within moments the dark box came to a sudden halted stop outside the city gates of the undead city…..

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Elrohir had recently arrived in Undercity to request the aide of a royal Apothecary. The Fel Sworn had his reasons for wanting an expert mind in that particular field and the mind he found proved to be most exquisite indeed. She was small in stature and rotted through as most forsaken were but her brilliance was far from gone and the Elf could tell. Elrohir began by offering her a position in his House which she quickly declined saying her allegiance lay with the Dark Lady, this only furthered El’s belief that she was the one he was looking for. The Apothecary introduced herself as Doctor Lustig not to be confused with Lady Lustig her Mother. Elrohir watched her work as the two spoke of the trade. The Elf had dabbled in much over his near two thousand year life span but this realm of science and death had not been one of them. She refused to leave her work as a royal Apothecary to the Dark Lady but she did seek funding for her research, in return a deal was struck between the two. Services rendered would be rewarded with an untold amount of funding for her research so long as she taught House Seregon all she knew and served as their personal Apothecary when she was not needed in Undercity. Elrohir was most pleased with the arrangement but Doctor Lustig knew the Elf was not seeking a tutor in the arts for she was far from a fool. A sly smile slowly crept across El’s face as she requested to see where it was she would be working exactly…. The Fel Sworn had just the place in mind. Soon the board would be set…. Soon indeed.

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The room was circular with a vaulted ceiling stretching up towards the heavens. A table sat in the center surrounded by mountains of book shelves on all sides covering the walls. There was a single entrance point to the room where two large oaken doors stood. Flaatom stood watch near the right flank of the door remaining silent while a Fel Hound stalked around the room weaving in and out of the shelves like a shark in the reef searching for prey. The table held a large firm figure sitting upright and rigid, as if years of training would let him do nothing less. Silver hair hung freely before the man’s face covering his pale complexion. His figure traced an ancient passage from a text long forgotten my most all mortal men. This was no ordinary man. Lord Elrohir Seregon Left that title behind long ago on his conquest for legend. Flaatom watched his master nod as he read the old passage speaking in strange tongues. A knock came at the door, “My Lord, I have prepared supper for you.” Elrohir looked to the doors where Flaatom stood and nodded. Without hesitation the huge hulk opened the door ushering the tiny butler inside. He was holding a silver disc with various fruits and hot teas atop it “I hope your usual afternoon brunch will suffice my Lord?” El nodded, “It shall. You have done well, be gone.” The noble elf gave a dismissing wave with his hand, though his eyes never left the book. There was an eerie silence that engulfed the room after the butler had left leaving the platter on a pedestal near the Fel Sworn. Elrohir continued reading for a moment as the oaken doors closed. Once they had shut a sudden rush of hot air filled the room blacking out the lit lamps. The several candles scattered throughout the room burst to life as flames erupted from their wicks without spark. A voice called from the shadows, “Well well my young Lord Elrohir, you appear to be well don’t you..” El let his eyes leave the book. The Fel Sworn’s eyes remained like stone, never flinching at the display of power. It called again, “Elrohir… Why don’t you answer me?” El stood slowly, “Afternoon Marius… What brings you to my estate?” Marius stepped from the shadows leaving behind scalding footprints where his plated feet once were. El narrows his eyes seeing his ruined floor, Marius spoke “We have business my busy little friend…” The demon’s face grew dark, “You owe me….” He hissed “I intend to collect in full…” Elrohir slid his chair back and rounded to face the demon, “I am a man of my word Marius… If I say I will do something, it gets done. Now… You spoke of business, let us speak on it.” Marius flicked a smile revealing his twisted fangs, “Yes… lets. It is simple and short. I plan on moving against an old foe in the legion soon and I need to know you’ll be there… My messenger will seek you out in three days’ time.” With his last words spoken Marius vanished in a plume of green smoke leaving only ash where he once stood. Elrohir nodded to himself as if knowing it the time had come. Flaatom approached him, “What shall I do Master?” The Fel Sworn quietly moved to a seat in the far corner where he would sometimes go to relax his mind and focus his energies. Elrohir’s face darkened forming a look of supreme evil “Bring me my apprentice…. Bring me Gigamosh…” Flaatom bowed deep before leaving for his task at hand.

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