This is a reupload of an older story of mine. I did not like the story anymore and took it off the site for a while but a friend requested that I put it back up so they could read it. So I found the original files of the story and am slowly going to repost each chapter. I will try to do it every day or every other day. Sincere apologies if I forget or get busy one day. I thought about trying to edit it or even change the story somewhat but then decided against it. I figured my friend (You know who you are) would enjoy it more in its original form, mistakes and all. But if anyone thinks I should change it or any of the stories in the series, just let me know please. I'd be happy to try.
I hope you enjoy it.
Cultist bustled about in the streets of Scourgeholme. In the markets, sellers cried out their wares. All of the people wore thick or furred clothing. Children ran around, playing in the alleyways. They were even more bundled up than the adults, and supervised by undead. The newly recruited, the long faithful, and those who were too young to understand what a cultist even was, all sorts of cultists lived in Scourgeholme.
Deathknights rode on deathchargers, patrolling the streets and keeping the peace, thought was hardly necessary much. Ghouls and geists followed cultists. Ready to help however they could.
The Cult of Damned had taken up residence in Scourgeholme, and transformed it into a city, much like any other if a bit colder and stranger in its inhabitants. Humans dominated the general population, but plenty of other races were there too. The city had walls surrounding it topped with guard towers, and the occasional gargoyle along the top. Gone were the large crypt fiends, and the pools of plague and blight had been diluted enough to be harmless unless digested. While keeping with the main adopted architecture associated with the Scourge, some variations had been incorporated for homes and businesses. Blacksmiths, merchants, tailors, and many other professions had sprung up.
Complex tunnels had been dug underneath in the hard cliffs around the city. Some were used for mining, but a lot had been made into agricultural areas. Cold resistant plants, and a wide range of fungus under artificial light. Giant cockroaches, spiders, and the fearsome Jormungar were raised as well.
The Lich King was impressed as he flew over the city. It looked magnificent, better than he had imagined. Scourgeholme had been given a layout similar to Stormwind, with different districts bordered by canals of blight instead of water. Arthas had been worried when cultists and undead had adopted orphans and brought them to the city, but there had not been an accident. Yet.
Glacier twisted around, tilting her wings and glided. Slowly, she had been circling downward. Wind buffeted her wing membranes, filling the flesh until they were taut. At Arthas's slightest touch, she writhed into the direction he wanted. The frostwyrm's bones creaked as she moved. Her tail flew behind her, and Arthas tightened his grip on the saddle.
The city grew larger, and Arthas recognized a building. Softly commanding Glacier, he looked down at the scaled down replica of Icecrown Citadel. As they came up rushing toward it, the man leaned forward.
Before they slammed against the courtyard, Glacier snapped open her wings, and beat them hard, slowing their descent. Stretching out her paws, she landed with a thud.
He dismounted, and nodded to a deathknight and ghoul as they came over to handle Glacier. She just thumped down on the ground, and opened her mouth as if panting.
Bolvar descended the steps, and approached Arthas. The Lich King smiled at the sight of his friend, and they both clasped hands in greeting.
"Governor Fordragon," Arthas acknowledged politely.
"Your Majesty. You look well."
"And you too. You have done wonderfully here in Scourgeholme."
Bolvar nodded, and waved toward the entrance of the courtyard, to the city outside. "Yes. I never thought about the Scourge being capable of creating, not destroying. We should take a tour. I am sure today will be a holiday as soon as the citizens know you are here. Is the rest of the family coming?"
Arthas frowned. "Jaina must be running late. Sapphire and Ethan are coming later. Is Lethumo here?"
"Oh, Let us pray that we do not come across him, or that little elf girl he adopted. Lethumo has been a bad influence on her, and he's only had her for a month."
Arthas let Bolvar walk ahead, and he secretly hoped Jaina would come. She had not seen him for a long time. Ever since...He had not meant to hurt her, but sometimes he became so angry over nothing. Those days he ordered all of his servants away, but Jaina usually stayed with him if she was visiting. But last time he had hurt her. Not badly, but enough to make her not come to him for weeks. He had despaired for the longest time, and finally resorted to writing a highly formal letter to her telling her about today.
At least his beloved daughter and son-in-law would be coming. Even if the Alteracan boy hadn't yet lived up to the conditions of the marriage contract yet. There was no doubt of his attempts, and that was all Arthas could hope for right now. It would happen in time. Medivh had suggested as much.
The snowy owl flew through the forest of Grizzly Hills, searching for something. She dodged tree branches, and stayed hidden from the aggressive imperial eagles that might find an owl fun sport. She saw everything, including an appetizing, plump squirrel on a branch. Tempted to swoop down and catch the rodent with ease, the owl hooted. She flapped her wings, feeling the wind rustle each individual feather. Clenching her feet tightly against her body, she dove down. Wind blew into her, and the squirrel did not notice his impending doom.
At the last second, the owl shrieked. The squirrel jumped in shock, and barely got away. But it did, trembling in the safety of a small crevice in the tree's trunk.
Sapphire was not really hungry for rodent anyway. But the animal's terror had been very entertaining. With a swish of her wings and the tilt of her tail feathers, she flew away. Toward the lodge.
It was made of large, hewn logs with a stone chimney and foundations. The lodge had a triangle roof, with a roofed porch. A wall of spiked logs surrounded the small village. Small trails of smoke came out of the small houses. A large enclosed pasture contained horses collected from the wild herds to the east. Chickens scattered when Sapphire flew by, and there was no one to greet her except a few undead, and Ni'kua, Ethan's plaguehound. He was curled up in front of the lodge, and barked at the sight of the bird.
One of the many windows of the lodge was open, and Sapphire swooped in, landing on the bedpost. A body lay under the fur blankets. Ethan was still asleep, and that was all right to her. She hooted, and flapped her wings. Rugs made of the skin of various animals covered the wooden floors. A stuffed bear stood on its hind legs near the door teeth bared and forepaws held up threateningly, Antlers of a shoveltusk from a hung over the bed. A desk sat in the corner, disorganized and covered in papers.
The door opened, and a dwarven cultist came in. She cried out in shock of the large bird of prey, and nearly dropped the tray of food in her hands. Ethan opened his eyes, and sat up in bed. He quickly looked at the dwarf woman and the owl.
"Calm down, Dorila. It is just Sapphire."
The woman scowled darkly at the owl, who seemed amused. Sapphire's eyes were bright blue even in her owl form.
"Ye scared me, lassie! Next time, I might decide to swat ya!"
Sapphire hooted in apology. Ethan held out his hand, and the owl gingerly climbed onto his bare skin. She did not want to accidentally rip up Ethan with her talons. Ethan looked down, and sighed in relief when he saw that he was still covered well by the fur blankets. He then smiled at the dwarf.
"Sorry, dear Dorila. Won't happen again."
The dwarven woman placed the tray of food on a table, pushing aside some of the mess. Ethan looked over at it, and scowled.
"Oh no...Haggis again?"
"Aye, and ye best eat it!" Dorila threatened. She left the room muttering in Dwarvish about human men.
Sapphire fluttered over to the tray of food, and looked down. She plucked a bit of food with her beak and started eating. The young man raised an eyebrow.
"Sapphire? Are you not going to change back?"
The large blue eyes looked up at him, full of frustration, and Ethan tilted his head. He smiled softly.
"You're stuck again, are you? Ah, sweetheart. Medivh told you to be careful."
An angry hoot, and the ex-deathknight got out of bed. He grabbed his clothes and pulled his pants on. His dog armor stood in the corner, recently polished. Sapphire's armor, never used, sat in a chest next to it. Her magic staff was lying on the floor.
He came over to the food, and pet Sapphire, ruffling her head feathers. She hissed and pecked at him. He leaned down and kissed her beak. The owl shuffled her feathery feet.
Ethan sat down in the chair, and picked up the fork. This time though, the dwarf had not brought him beer to drink. She seemed intent on making Ethan drink and eat haggis all the time, and grow a beard.
The young man looked over to the mirror on the wall, and scratched the stubble on his face. Maybe it was working. Ethan told himself to shave later.
He ate his breakfast, and Sapphire finally was able to turn back, feathers turning into her cloak, her taloned feet turning into her normal, bare feet, and her wings turning into her arms. Ethan leaned back, and smiled. Sapphire scowled, and grabbed her share of food, hissing.
Ethan laughed. "I'm sorry. No more flights for you. Where'd you go?"
"Nowhere special. But I thought I would fly around and scout for the last time before we go visit Dad and Bolvar."
"Ah yes. I can not wait. I hear that Scourgeholme is...beautiful in its own way. A religious center, a park, trade district, necromancy quarter, residential quarters, and the undead section. Not to mention the Catacombs underneath."
"Oh, yes! Lethumo told me they make candy! Candied mushrooms, Chocolate cockroaches, Sugar Bones, and Frozen Hearts," Sapphire said wistfully. Ethan laughed.
"I'll bring some extra money for you to buy some then."
A dog barked outside. Ethan frowned, and quickly went to the window. Sapphire grabbed a hairbrush, and started brushing her white hair. Tangles shot up pain as the brush tugged at them.
"There's a messenger coming. Time for work then," Ethan sighed, and the young man leaned over to kiss Sapphire on the lips.
She grabbed his neck, and kissed him back, drawing it out. She put one hand on his bare chest, and released him. Ethan grabbed his shirt, and pulled it over him. Sapphire got his cloak for him, and kissed him again.
"I'll be down in a minute."
Sapphire watched Ethan leave, and yawned. Then, she changed into more suitable clothing for sitting on the chair in the lodge's main room. The girl pulled on simple necromancer's robes, and the fur cloak her father had given her as a wedding present.
She went to the door, and twisted the knob. Flashes of pain made Sapphire gasped. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, and felt waves of nausea come up. She ran out, and went straight for the bathroom.
A cultist found her later in there, curled up in a ball. The smell of vomit permeated in the room.
"My lady! Are you all right?" The woman came forward, concern on her face. Sapphire nodded weakly, and stood up.
"I...I am okay. Really."
Sapphire made her way down the stairs, and found the main room. Ethan sat on his fur covered chair, his crown on his head. He was listening intently to a messenger, and only dimly acknowledged Sapphire, reaching his hand out for her. She sat down in her own chair, and took his hand.
She loved living here, in the Grizzly Hills. Arthas had given Ethan back his home, in Stormwind, and the boy had been able to fix it up from the ruin it had been. But the boy had found it difficult to live there. He had woken up to nightmares of him killing his family, and of them rising out of their graves out for revenge. They only stayed there a week, until Lethumo came by and told them that Arthas was setting up a village in the Grizzly Hills. Ethan gratefully took up the position of leader, and set out with a passion to eradicate the worgen still roaming the region. A permanent deathgate allowed Sapphire to travel to Medivh's new home, and learn from him all the magic she could.
Nausea came up again. It must be the haggis. Sapphire will just go straight to the kitchens from now on to get her breakfast, and not eat that stuff again. Although, she had eaten it before and never been sick. She wondered why it would affect her so negatively now.
The sun was near the middle of the sky by the time Jaina was ready. She pulled the warm fur cloak around her, and felt a bit of sweat on her forehead. Theramore was hot and humid, while her destination was anything but.
The woman looked out of the window, and saw the repairs to the city coming along well. A flood had ruined the docks, but workers were fixing it with determination. Jaina had spent most of the morning helping with magic as much as she could.
She had forgone breakfast, and was starving. Hopefully Arthas would have something in mind for lunch. She did not like the idea of eating in Scourgeholme.
Anywhere called that probably would not have food for the living.
Jaina was still hesitant about Arthas. He had good days and bad days. Really bad days. Everyone but her fled at the sight of him those days. He seemed to never be able to hurt her seriously, though he came close to it last time. The bruises had faded quickly, but she could almost feel them still.
And she had not heard from Thrall in a long time. He had traveled to Nagrand, in the Outlands to ask the elements of that world why Azeroth was facing such calamities, this flooding of Theramore just one of many. Jaina hoped her friend was all right.
Terra and Rot barked at her. Terra had undergone the change from living puppy to plaguehound, and now she was even worse than ever. Ethan had done it before Terra got too old, and left rotten Rot at his same age. She looked no different, so that was all right. Rot was under his white fluffy spell form.
"You two ready to go?"
Barks of agreement. The woman smiled. "All right. Let's go."
Talons scraped the mountain rock, and the dragon had trouble landing. He snarled in frustration as the cold, frozen wind tore at his wings. With a burst of energy, the dragon pushed against the wind with his large wings, and finally landing with a thump. Folding his wings, the dragon looked back at his rider.
The cultist nodded, and the dragon looked down curiously at the city below them. Scourgeholme it was called, full of undead and mortals that did not mind them. How odd.
The cultist patted the dragon's hard, midnight black scales, and yelled over the wind.
"The others will be coming soon with the peace offering. Let us hope the...Lich King will be smart and accept!"
The dragon hissed. "If he doesn't, I'll feast on his bones."
While the dragon was fearsome, it was not that large compared to others, and clearly arrogant. The cultist doubted he would be able to fight the Lich King who, despite the efforts of the living, was still alive. But instead of attacking again, the coward kept secret, not in preparation, but for hiding. He did not want the world to know of him, but neither did he want the Scourge to kill. It was a shame. The rebellious Scourge in the other continents were much more useful, if only they had the numbers that were wanted by the Cult of Twilight's Hammer.
Well, maybe the offer the Twilight's Hammer give will tempt him out back into the world. How could Arthas Menethil possibly refuse such generosity?