Magi Of the Wind Seeker

by TheTacoMan

Tells the tale of Amecylia, a night elf druid given the oppertunity, along with a paladin named Ishtvahn and his friends, to hunt down and destroy the burning legion warlock that seeks to free the wind lord: Thundereen

1. Chapter 1

Magi of the Wind seekerSteven Bogos

PART 1

Chapter 1:
A burning arrow sears past Jakes head. The small hut behind him erupts into flame. Dammit, he thinks to himself, how could we let this happen? The acolytes of the wind seeker had attacked his town in the dead of the night, catching everyone unprepared. It should be ok, he thinks, as long as Rasmord isn't here we'll be able to fend them off. He forms the image of a panther in his mind; its sleek, speedy muscular body will be just what he needs. His druidic powers consume him as he begins to shift his shape into that of the giant cat.
'My brothers!!' he yells 'Cleanse this place of these cursed legion warriors, they may have taken us unprepared but without their leader they are no match for our druidic might!'
A mighty uproar falls upon the town as the night elf druids stop fleeing, and start fighting. But just as suddenly as the attack began, it stops.

'Ha ha ha ha ha, heh heh heh heh heh, HA HA HA HA HA!" a cackle of maniacal laughter falls over the camp.

'Do you really think I would assault the place where the bottom half of the bindings of the wind seeker lay and not be there personally? For shame Jake, I thought your knew better than that,' a dark, raspy undead voice comes from the crowd.
Then he arises, an evil agent of the scourge, servant to the demonic burning legion, Rasmord, undead warlock of the Wind Seeker cause. He lets out a piercing howl of terror, forcing all the druids around him to collapse in pain, and as they do, his demonic and undead servants start to cut them down where they lay.
'NO!' yells Jake, 'Stop this, leave them alone, they have nothing you need'
'Ahhh my friend, but you do. Give me your half of the bindings or I'll wipe out every single night elf in this village,' comes Rasmord's foul demand.
Jake is at a loss as what to do. He can't give Rasmord the bindings, he wrestled them from the dead, molten hands of Ragnaros, the fire lord's lieutenant: Garr, and in the hands of the evil undead warlock he would be unstoppable.
'Run' says a voice close to Jake, 'Take the bindings and run, and don't worry about us.'
It is Tobias, Jake's closest friend and one of the finest druids in the village.
Jake hesitates, considering the offer.
'What are you doing!? Take the bindings and run! Run! He cannot get his hands on those bindings!!' Tobias urges
Deciding that he would extract his revenge on the warlock in any way that he can, Jake shifts his shape into the impossibly fast form of a cheetah and runs.
'WHAT! DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!' He hears Rasmord bellow.
The undead and demonic forces turn to chase Jake, but the determined druids of the village have risen, seeming to have one last mission, to protect Jake. They stop the warlock's forces dead in their tracks. As Jake runs through the village he hears the crying of a night elf baby. It was Tobias's baby daughter, Amecylia. I cant save the others, but I can damn well save that baby, he thinks to himself as he picks her up carefully in his jaw. As Jake reaches the border of the village he hears something: The steady clump clump clump of a galloping horse. He looks back to see Rasmord, riding atop his demonic mount, the dread steed, slowly gaining on him.
'You will not leave this place alive!' he bellows at Jake. Muttering a warlock incarnation, he raises his hands and Jake feels searing pain shoot through his body. But he presses on. Rasmord continues his incarnations as Jake attempts to escape. Then he is stopped. He turns around to see Tobias, panting for breath, having just called upon the powers of the trees to use their roots to grasp the flaming legs of Rasmord's mount. Jake sees his opportunity and runs, he runs as fast as he can. H leaves the comforting, embrace of the trees and plants of moon glade, the druid's sanctuary, and enters the nearby furbolg tunnel. He runs through, wanting to get as far away from the warlock as possible. He exits to winter spring on the other side of the tunnel, a beautiful, snow covered region of Azeroth. He continues running, warlock curses and spells still affecting him, and draining him of his life force.

The last thing the brave night elf remembers is reaching a human home; he drops the baby on its doorstep, and shifts himself back into his original form. Drawing his bottom half of the bindings of the wind seeker from his bag, he places it in the baby's hands. With his last ounce of strength, he bashes his fist on the door of the house, then falls down dead, as the warlock spells take their final toll on him

24 years later

Chapter 2:

'Amecylia! AMECYLIA! Where are you?? High commander Morgan wants to speak to you,' the call of Martha Patrick, respected human priest of the city of storm wind, falls across the city. Martha and her husband Gregor had been the ones living at the house that night, a holiday house they had built in winter spring, and had taken Amecylia in and raised her as their own. When she was finally old enough, she had learned the truth as to what happened to her village, and what those strange bindings that she had clutched since she was a baby were. The undead cult of the Wind seeker, led by the most powerful warlock in all of Azeroth, Rasmord the Doom bringer, had set out to find both halves of the bindings of the wind seeker, and use them to summon the mighty wind god Thundereen to do their bidding. The first half, held by the powerful druid Jake Croulette of the cenarion circle druids had escaped Rasmord's grasp. The second half had been bloodily wrestled from Nagi Marzetta, the dwarven warrior of the hinterlands who had been burdened with the bindings when he and his dwarven brothers had slain the dire fire lord, Barron Gheddon, 20 years after his initial failure to take Jake's bindings. The keeper of the remaining half of the bindings is now a single night elf woman. Although tall for her age, Amecylia had shorter ears than an average night elf, giving her the impression of being short. She had the pale purple skin of her father and a head full of blue hair that ran down the sides of her head. She was dressed in her traditional druid raiment, wild heart, with long feathery shoulders and a sturdy leather kilt. Resting upon her back was the Rod of the ogre magi, which she had received as a gift from the ogres of dire maul long ago. She has sworn to extract her painful revenge on the warlock that ravaged her town.

'Coming mother!' she yells from across the park at storm wind. Being a night elf, she spent a lot of her time at the park rather than the small confined city house of her foster parents. When she was not at home, she was more often than none training with the druids of the cenarion circle, at least, the scattered few that were left after the attack of their encampment.
'What's up?' she asks.
'It's the High Commander; he wants to speak to you immediately. It has to do with, him,' Martha informs her.
Shifting herself into her travel form of a cheetah, Amecylia swiftly runs down the streets to the church of Stormwind.
'You called, commander?' Amecylia asks as she swift shifts back into her night elf form upon the steps of the church
'Amecylia,' comes Morgan's reply 'We have news on Rasmord. He's been spotted in the eastern plague lands, and according to the folk up there, he's been plotting something in Scholomance.'
'You want me to go up there?' Amecylia asks
'Not by yourself,' Morgan replies, 'I will send a paladin warrior with you and he will assemble a five man team. Any more than five men would be too dangerous in the small halls of Scholomance. You will assault the forsaken school and find out any information about Rasmord.'
'Very well commander, may I ask who this paladin will be?' Amecylia enquires.
'That would be me,' says a voice from behind Commander Morgan
'Ah yes! Right on time, Amecylia, meet Sir Ishtvahn of Tirisfal. He is a brave paladin warrior that fought in the battle of Thereamore, where he served under Admiral Proudmoore as a member of the Kul Tiras navy. He also has rather Erm, extensive knowledge of the scourge (Morgan raises an eyebrow to Ishtvahn as he says this). If anyone knows undead, it's him,' Morgan tells her.
'My, such beauty, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,' Ishtvahn steps out from behind the commander. He is a tall, fearsome looking man. He has dark black hair that looked like it had never seen the likes of a comb. His face was like a ravaged cliff face, covered in stubble, looking tired, yet strong, and across his left cheek marked a deep scar of a previous battle. He was dressed in the paladin traditional armour, light forge, with a few exceptions. He wore the cape of a sergeant in the Alliance army, and his shoulder pads were not those of light forge, but of the mighty warrior armour set, Valour. Upon his back was the blackhand doomsaw, a weapon he had wrested from the cold dead hands of Rend Blackhand himself, the false Orc Warcheif of the horde that had made his hideout deep within black rock spire. It was not quite a sword, but not quite a pole arm; it was basically what its name describes it as, a big thick saw.
'It, it is an honour to be working with you sir,' Amecylia said and bowed in respect for the mighty paladin

'Please rise, spare me the formalities. I assume Morgan has filled you in on what we must do?' Asks the Bold paladin
'Yes he has,' came the night elf's reply
'Well then,' exclaims Ishtvahn, 'Lets not dilly-dally around here. Our first crew members is deep within the demon infested blasted lands, and we are to get going immediately,'
'Yes, you must move quickly. Good luck on your mission soldiers, and may the light be with you,'
with that, the two adventurers left the cathedral and wandered into the streets of Stormwind.
'Well need some horses, there are some steeds in the stable that will be of use,' Ishtvahn tells Amecylia
When they get to the stable, Ishtvahn pays the stableman for their horses, 160 of his hard earned gold pieces
'Well, we better be off!' states Ishtvahn, and with that they both mounted their steeds and set off towards the war torn blasted lands
THE BLASTED LANDS:

Chapter 3:
'I do not like this place,' Amecylia comments as they sneak past the horde guards in the swamp of sorrows and cross the border into the blasted lands.
'Tell me about it,' Ishtvahn replies, 'Why he spends his time here I have no idea. Keep in mind it gets worse.'
The blasted lands were just that, blasted lands. It is where the dark portal itself is situated, the evil entity that linked the world of Azeroth with the war torn wasteland of Outland, and thus was the first victim of the burning legion when they came to this land. Now it is nothing but a dry, barren wasteland, scorpid and vulture scavengers inhibit the entrance, and deeper within the cursed land is the Tainted Scar, home to the feared Lord Kazzak and his demonic minions.
'I hope Kazzak isn't around, that would cause some trouble,' Ishtvahn says as they enter the eerie darkness of the tainted scar.
'Who is this, Kazzak?' Amecylia asks.
'Only one of the most powerful demons to roam this land. He is said to have one thousand times the power of the dread lord Varimathras.' Varimathras is the guardian of Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, the banshee queen of the forsaken undead.
'Now lets see, he usually hangs around the altar of storms, it should be this way,' Ishtvahn tells the druid.
They arrive at the altar to find it abandoned.

'Where the hell could he be? He's usually around here and…' THWAK!
Ishtvahn is interrupted mid-sentence by the smack of a felguard's blade knocking him off his horse. Felguards, The guardians of the burning legion. Massive demons standing at least twice the height normal man. Bright orange skin covers their body except for their blue, armour plated chests and faces. Big thick spikes come out of their shoulders to match the felguard's weapon of choice, a long pole arm, supposedly made out of human bones. This particular felgaurd had spotted the intruders and decided to make an example of them. Ishtvahn scrambles to his feet but is too late, the felgaurd delivers a mighty kick to his head, which sends him flying back onto the rocks. Amecylia, unnoticeable to the felgaurd, morphs herself into her high damaging panther form. She jumps up at the felgaurd, but the felguard's reflexes get the best of her as he slashes across her side with his pole arm. Falling to the ground she morphs back into her night elf form in order to repair the damage. But while she is doing this, she is impervious to the felgaurd. He raises his pole arm above Amecylia, prepares to thrust it down and… THWACK!!
The felguard falls to the down dead, a single burning arrow imbedded in the demon's head. The archer steps out and extends a hand out to Amecylia, still lying on the ground.
'Greetings, young night elf, I am Costanzus, and who might I have the pleasure of meeting?' he asks

'I… I… I'm Amecylia,' Amecylia spluttered, still shocked and awed from the attack and her rescue.

'Costanzus old buddy!' Ishtvahn gets up on his feet, still slightly dazed from the felgaurd attack, 'I was wondering where the hell you were!'
Costanzus stood 6 feet tall, which is average size for a night elf. The effects of battle had taken a toll on him, making his face look old and scared. It didn't help the fact that he was born with white hair, it covered his head and fell down his back stopping just above his belt; it made him look like an elder when he was really not much older than Ishtvahn. He was wearing light chain mail armour, the breastplate and tunic of the beastalkers, a sacred set of armour forged by ancient hunters. In his hand he held the bow of searing arrows, a bow capable of igniting arrows shot from it. Costanzus had received this bow as a gift from his father, who had now passed from this world. He also had dual axes holstered at his side, the 'Dawns Edges' as he called them, having learned how to craft them from the Argent Dawn, an organisation bent on eliminating the scourge from the world of Azeroth.
'Well when I saw the felgaurd scout coming, I thought I'd bring him down for some food, Felgaurds make good steaks you know,' Costanzus says

'Well if you can layoff the felgaurd steaks for a while, I've got a proposition for you, and I think you will like it,' Ishtvahn says
Costanzus pulls out his hunting knife and stabs it into the felguard's flesh
'We'll discuss it over dinner,' he says.

A small campfire in the middle of the Altar of Storms is the only light in the night-blackened tainted scar.
'So,' said Costanzus 'What is this "Proposition" of yours?'
'These demons that you hunt everyday do you hunt them for a reason?' asks Ishtvahn
'Ishtvahn,' says Costanzus, 'You know that the burning legion wiped out my entire village and I swore revenge on every demon in this land. I once had a shot at Kazak's ungodly head but I failed, and now I spend my days slaying his lesser minions. One day that swine will return and I will slay him on my family's honour.'
'What if I was to offer you the chance to slay one of the most powerful warlocks of the legion? One who seeks the power of the god of wind himself,' proposes Ishtvahn.
'Someone that powerful, you could only mean Rasmord!' exclaims the hunter,

'Yes,' continues Ishtvahn, 'Come with us and I will give you the chance to destroy Rasmord,'
'You, you know where he is?' questions Costanzus

'Yes,' replies the paladin, 'I have been given direct orders from high commander Morgan to seek out a party and slay Rasmord in his hideout at Scholomance'
'Well, three of us is hardly a party, who else did you have in mind?' asked Costanzus

'I've got a dwarven friend that owes me a favour, for starters,' says Ishtvahn

'Oh no, not him,' groans Costanzus
'We'll leave in the morning, hopefully we can get there before he is stone drunk,' says Ishtvahn
Amecylia just looks on at the scene in confusion 'What are you talking about Ishtvahn?' she asks

'You'll find out when we get to the hinterlands.'

THE HINTERLANDS:

Chapter 4:

A few hours later, the brave party arrive at Aerie Peak, the Dwarven outpost hidden deep within the troll-ridden woods of the hinterlands. Ishtvahn and his increasing party pay the wyren master for his services and head straight for the local pub.
'Oh Ishtvahn, I 'avent seen you in a while, whut brins you 'round 'ere?' exclaims Lucina, the barmaid at the local bar

'Greetings Lucia, I've come looking for an old friend,' Ishtvahn tells her
'Oh ay. He aint here laddie. E got all riled up 'bout them trolls, says they keep killin' the deliverymen that bring up his booze. You know 'ow he is without his booze ay?' explains Lucia

'Oh that's just great, I guess we'll have to go all the way out to Reventusk to get the blighter' groans Costanzus

The trio saddle up on some of the finest hinterlands ram mounts and make their way through the wilderness to get to Reventusk village, the resident horde town of the area. As they arrive they notice a silence, there are no monsters of animals wandering around anymore, as if they had all been slain in this area.

'This doesn't look good,' says Amecylia, after seeing a troll with it's own hand axe imbedded into it's head.

'What do you think?' asks Ishtvahn

'Definitely looks like his work,' replies Costanzus

'It's not like him to just up and slay an entire village, I'm surprised that he was able to, these trolls are not the same as the inexperienced, sheltered trolls of Kalimdor.'
'That's cause he couldn do it mon, we trolls know how to handle ourselves,' came a voice from behind the trees. Six trolls stepped out from their hiding spots to encircle the adventuring party

'Hmph,' exclaims Ishtvahn 'I knew that stupid dwarf was always too hot headed,'

'No more talking mon, come with us and youse wont get hurt, as much' says the troll from before, having revealed himself to the party. If he was standing tall he would easily tower over them, but his slouching stature forced him to be no taller than the night elf Amecylia. He had light, almost fluoro green skin, was dressed in tribal leather garments, and his face was covered in tribal blue war paint. One of his tusks had been broken off in battle, but the other one protruded far into the air.

'I suppose we should lay down our arms and surrender,' suggests Ishtvahn

'Might as well,' agrees Costanzus as he lays down his bow

'What are you doing? We must fight our way out! For the alliance we do battle with…' Amecylia's complaints are cut short as the strong, gauntleted hand of Ishtvahn smacks into her neck and sends her into a deep sleep

'Sorry Amecylia, but It's for the best' he apologizes

'Don make any smart moves mon,' warns the broken tusked troll as he escorts them into the village

'Bloody damn trolls, if only id've 'ad me blunderbuss on me, I coulda blown that ugly looking bastard's face off. It's not like me ta lose, I just couldnta halp meself when they're commin at me five at a time,' a deep, dwarven voice mutters from the bottom of a pit. The pit was about six meters deep and no more than two meters in diameter. The roof was made of bamboo sticks tied together to resemble a grid. It was hinged on one side so one could 'open' it up and throw down food or other people.

'How the heck am I suppose to get outta this place now!' the dwarf yells, kicking the skull of a nearby skeleton, 'Don't wanna end up like ol' bones 'ere.'

Just then, the roof of the pit opens and the dwarf captive sees the familiar face of a troll with only one tusk. He then sees three bodies being thrown into the pit with him. Two night elves and a human. They seemed familiar to the cursive dwarf.

'Blast me bagpipes! Ishty, is that you?' he asks excitedly

'Ugh,' groans Ishtvahn, pulling himself up, still in pain from the fall down into the hole, 'it's good to see you again Tanzil.' With the light shining down from the opened pit, the dwarf is revealed in his full glory. He had golden hair that came down his sides in plaits, like many of the dwarves from his village. Like almost every dwarf he bore a full beared, although a bit scraggy. His face was as twisted and scarred as the paladin he spoke to, only he had a much more serious wound which had claimed his left eye. His name was Tanzil the Lawbringer, and he was a dwarven warrior of the Lawbringer clan, a clan that had allied itself directly with the Argent Dawn, and who were sworn enemies of the undead scourge.

'Since you've decided to get us into this mess Ishtvahn, how do you propose we get out of here with this dirty dwarf?' queries Costanzus, arising from his stupor. Ishtvahn takes a minute to observe his surroundings. The walls had been smoothed down and packed hard; there was definitely no way to get a grip on them to climb out. He picked at the dirt and saw that behind the hard dried dirt, there was nice soft and damp soil.

'If I had a knife or a sword or something we could probably climb out,' he announced.

'Let me try,' said Amecylia. She stepped forward and removed a hidden dagger from inside her boot. She threw it as hard as she could into the wall about half way up.
'Allioupe,' says Ishtvahn as he boosts her into the air. Amecylia grasps the dagger with ease. She then flicks her legs up, her amazing night elf flexibility enabling her to hook her feet into the holes in the cage. She removes the dagger from the wall and only her feet support her as she simply hangs from the cage. Again, she flicks up her lower body and slices at the roof, her knife easily cutting the bamboo. She finally grabs the sides of the hole she made in the bamboo cage-roof and pulls herself out of the hole to freedom.
'Nice bloody work!' exclaims Tanzil, amazed at the night elf's athleticism.

Out in the daylight, a very surprised Troll on guard duty had just seen a night elf simply jump out of a hole that was 6 meters deep and embed her dagger into his face. Amecylia looks around and scouts out a rope. She ties the rope to a nearby tree and throws the end back into the whole where her companions were still captive. As soon as she lets go of the rope, an enraged revantusk troll swings a mace at her head. It is only her natural racial ability that allows her to dodge this attack. As the troll readies himself for another attack, Ishtvahn clambers out of the hole and delivers a swift kick to its chest, sending it flying backwards. Amecylia quickly runs to retrieve her dagger from the first troll's dead body, but is cut off by another two trolls. One of the trolls reveals himself as a dark shadow priest, as he morphs himself into a ghoulish shadow form.

'Aye lass, we need ta get our weapons or those trolls is gonna break our faces!' exclaims the dwarf.
'Good idea my friend, but perhaps HOW we are going to accomplish this feat is the question,' replies Ishtvahn, struggling to hold the initial troll's mace back against him.
'Give me a hand over here, dwarf!' yells Amecylia. Amecylia immediately sees the shadow priest as the highest threat, as the other troll is simply another warrior drone with a stone club. She simply calls upon the trees again to entangle the warrior with their roots, and then calls upon the power of the moon to strike the shadow priest with arcane damage.
'Aye ye sissy, spells and magic aint the right way ta fight!' yells Tanzil, charging in on the shadow priest stunned by the fire of the moon. Although his unarmed combat skill is very low, Tanzil becomes enraged, fighting in a berserking stance to maximise his damage. However, the shadow priest had already encased himself in a holy shield, absorbing all of Tanzil's damage with ease. Amecylia sees this and begins to charge a spell of nature's wrath to cast on the priest, when the priest lets out an almighty physic scream, sending Tanzil and Amecylia running against their will. He then utters the shadow word of pain, cursing both of the hero's with unspeakable pain. With Amecylia's concentration broken, the troll warrior is easily able to break free from the grasp of the roots, and runs over to the still incapacitated Amecylia, holding his club up high. Just as he is about to bring his club down on her head, THWACK! The familiar sound of a burning arrow embeds itself into his head.
'That's two times I've had to save someone's life in one day,' says Costanzus, hands still taut at his bow of searing arrows.

Across from the trio, Ishtvahn is still wrestling with the original troll. The troll recovers from Ishtvahn kick and reaches to pick up his mace. Ishtvahn is one step ahead of him and kicks the mace away. The troll snarls at Ishtvahn and tries to sweep Ishtvahn with his long lanky troll legs. Ishtvahn jumps backwards, but this gives the troll enough time to get to his feet. The troll lunges out at Ishtvahn with his fists, still clad with plate mail. Ishtvahn ducks the first attack, but the second one smacks him right in the cheek. He reels back from the impact, still standing but dazed from the blow. The troll draws a dagger from his belt and raises it to throw. Just as he is about to throw it, his arm is suddenly lopped off. He shrieks in pain and confusion, and then just as suddenly as his arm, a sword slices through his neck and kills the troll. Tanzil hops over the dead troll, brandishing his weapon of choice, his blessed high blade: The Quel'Serrar.

Tanzil had begun his quest to forge the Quel'Serrar when he found an old tome in the halls of the strange, ogre ridden dungeon of Dire Maul: Foror's Compendium of Dragon Slaying. He took the book to one of the night elves of Shen'Dellar who dwell within the Dire Maul Library and was told about the Quel'Serrar. For him to be able to forge this sword, he would have to slay Onyxia, daughter of the corrupted black dragon Deathwing, and queen of the black dragon flight. So he gathered a group of forty of the bravest warriors he could find, Ishtvahn and Costanzus included, and they set out to forge Tanzil's sword, and put an end to the black dragons terror. They did manage to successfully slay the dragon, and Tanzil was able to forge the blade using first her fire breath to heat it, and then tempering it in her blood.

In his other had, Tanzil held the draconian deflector. When Ishtvahn had ventured into black rock spire to slay Rend Blackhand, he had met Tanzil and Costanzus. Tanzil had been told by his cousin Nagi to investigate the spire and had lost his way in black rock mountain. Luckily Ishtvahn and his paladin squad had found him and allowed him to raid the spire with them. They discovered Costanzus deep within the spire amongst a pile of dead orcs. Apparently he had heard a rumour that the burning legion was somehow involved and had instantly rushed to black rock mountain, having at this stage already been on the quest to avenge his family from the cursed demons. While they were there, they discovered that the king of the black dragon flight, Onyxia's older brother Nefarian, was manipulating Rend. While they were unable to defeat Nefarian as he retreated into his hideout, the black wing lair, there were able to kill his General, Drakkisath. Tanzil obtained the draconian deflector upon slaying Drakkisath, taking the shield from the black dragon's dead claws.

Tanzil whips the blood off his sword and places it upon his back. It is a marvel the massive blade fits on his small dwarven body.

'Catch,' says Costanzus as he tosses the Blackhand Doomsaw back to its owner

'Thanks guys,' compliments Ishtvahn as he snatches the pole arm out of the air.
'Come, the rest of our gear is back here,' Costanzus indicates a small troll hut, marked by the troll impaled on it's own spear in front of it. The troop gear up and assemble, looking to their leader for the next part in their mission.
'Right, we're almost all ready, we're just missing one person, and I must say, much to Constanzus's dismay, that she resides in Ironforge,' Ishtvahn announces
'Oh no, not her,' Costanzus sighs.
'Sorry old buddy, but she's critical to this mission,' replies Ishtvahn
'Well lads, the quickest way te get ta Ironforge is back on the griffin, we might as well head out now if we is ta get there by nightfall,' Tanzil says.

'Yes we have to hurry, we must make it to the plague lands and to Scholomance as quickly as possible to put an end to this demon,' replies Ishtvahn
'Plague lands? Demon?' questions Tanzil

'I'll explain on the way, what's important now is that we move,' Ishtvahn says
'I suppose I should ask who this fifth member is, but one: I'm sure you wont tell me, and two: it's been quite a rush in the way I've met the rest of you,' Amecylia says, wearily.

As the party heads out, they are unaware that while they were captured by a group of six trolls, there are only five corpses. A single troll rises out from the bushes, his fluoro green skin matching the wildlife perfectly.
'The plague lands ey mon? Dun you be worrying dwarf, Reventusk trolls gonna have deir revenge,' the single-tusked troll schemes to himself. With a quick whistle he calls his raptor mount, and makes his way southeast of the hinterlands to the cursed lands of the scourge, the plague lands.

During the back to Ironforge, Amecylia brings her Griffon up next to Ishtvahn.

'Sir Ishtvahn?' she asks.

'Please, spare me the formalities, just call me Ishtvahn,' he replies, full of modesty

'Ishtvahn, then, it seems these party members all greatly respect you, you seem like such an amazing person,' she tells him

'Hmm really? I don't see people that respect me in my friends. I see mutual respect. I trust each of the members of this party with my life. As do I trust you, Fair Amecylia. I can only begin to imagine the hardships you must have encountered in your life, living under constant fear of Rasmord. I swear on my life that I shall protect you. As long as I draw breath, so shall you,' the noble paladin promises. Amecylia blushes with embarrassment

'Th-thank you!' she says, surprised. Amecylia had grown up most of her life in constant hiding, and training with various druids, it was really a hard life, and so she never had time for any relationships of sorts. Somehow, she felt something towards Ishtvahn. Am I, am I falling in love with this human? She asks herself. She then looks to her right to see that Ishtvahn had extended his arm out across the air towards her. She took his hand in her own, and they flew hand in hand above the air. She shivered when she felt his touch, and when she looked at him, she felt as if all would be well in her life. I, I think I am! She thought. She smiled at him as they flew into the horizon.

Chapter 5:

'Ay little lass, what will ye be having?' asks a barman to the stout gnome that had just entered his bar. The gnome says nothing, choosing instead to simply stare menacingly at the barman.

'Oooo kay then, just come ta me when you're a ready I guess,' the Ironforge barman says, rolling his eyes at the gnome. As the gnome walks through the bar, people cringe at the sight of her, for it is easy to tell that this gnome is a warlock. She is wearing a purple robe, decorated with skulls as shoulder pads, and a hood, which she had pulled over her face. From within the hood, her eyes glowed red with demonic energy. This is the traditional dreadmist raiment, garments given to warlocks the shady agents of the Burning Legion deemed worthy.

'Swine,' she calls out to the barman, breaking out of her stupor, 'Tell me where is Maldini Regorik, the reagents vendor. I believe she should have fulfilled my order of infernal stones by now.'

'Well I aint gonna be telling yoo with that attitude miss!' replies the barman angrily.

'You dare disrespect me! Do you have any idea who I am you fool! I will make you regret that,' yells the gnome warlock.

'It's a fight you want is it! Well you're gonna get one!' the barman yells as he pulls his axe out from under his counter and hops over it, charging at the gnome

'Fool,' is all the gnome utters, as she casts the spell of immolation, causing the barman to burst into flames

'Aiiiiieeeee!' screams the barman, dropping to the ground in pain

'That is what you get you foolish mortal,' the gnome says, 'Now I will end this!' She removes her sword from her belt, the Azuresong Mageblade, forged in the fires of molten core with the magical power of a hundred demon's souls. Just as she begins to bring the sword down, THWACK! A mace hits her in the back of the head and everything turns black.

'Wake up yoo little troublemaker,' comes a voice, piercing the darkness of the gnome's slumber. The gnome rises to her feet and shakes her head. As the darkness fades, she sees that she is looking into the eyes of none other than the king of Ironforge, Magni Bronzebeard.

'Myra, what're we gonna do with you?' the king asks. Myra just looks back at him.

'You know we only let ya stay ere in Ironforge cause of the great deeds you and your buddies did for tha alliance. But I'm afraid that if ya keep goin on like this, we've no choice but ta kick ya out lass,' the king informs Myra. Myra Skettlespouse, gnome warlock. During the raid to kill Onyxia, Myra had been accompanying our stories heroes. Myra had first made acquaintances with the rest of the group when she met the legendary dwarven paladin, Nagi Marzetta in the molten core four years ago. Seeking to improve the effect of her fire spells by blasting them on the highly fire resistant beasts of molten core, she stumbled across Nagi and his dwarven brothers attempting to kill the fire lord Barron Gheddon. Nagi instantly befriended Myra, and despite her dark brooding nature, she took an instant liking towards him. They worked together to slay Gheddon, and after his death, Nagi forged a blade for Myra out of a Core's hound tooth and a hundred of Myra's 'Soul Shards', shards which she had captured and stored the souls of demons. This sword came to be the Azuresong Mageblade.

After they left the Molten Core, with Nagi gripping Gheddon's half of the bindings of the wind seeker, Myra accompanied him back to his homeland. It was there she met Nagi's cousin, the troublesome, boisterous dwarf Tanzil. Myra and Nagi were now very much in love, and lived together in peace for some years. However, Nagi learned that an agent of the Burning Legion was after his half of the bindings of the wind seeker. Soon after this, Myra and Nagi found themselves in constant hiding, always moving from place to place as to not reveal their location to the legion. Nagi was becoming forever paranoid of the safety of his family and friends. He even sent his cousin and a band of dwarves to black rock mountain in order to investigate a rumour about the legion. There was nothing of the legion there, but perhaps he gained something more valuable when Tanzil returned with his new friends. Ishtvahn, being the noble paladin he was, vowed to defend the privacy of the dwarves and their powerful artefact. However, this all changed drastically when one day, again riding on a false rumour, Nagi met his downfall.

The queen of the black dragon flight, Onyxia the brood mother, had long been a thorn in the alliance's side. She had disguised herself as Lady Prestor, and had been residing in the city of Stormwind, mocking the foolishness of the easily tricked humans for too long. The high commander Morgan had discovered Onyxia, but fearing her rampaging the city, he decided instead to stalk her to her lair. The fiendish dragon made her nest in the Dust wallow Marsh, among the wrymbog and the dragon kin there. He had ordered Ishtvahn to gather an army and put a stop to her, before her corruption seeped through all of Stormwind. The first place Ishtvahn went was back to the Hinterlands, in order to find his most trusted soldiers. He enlisted the help of Tanzil, Myra and Nagi. Although Myra had sworn never again to be aided by the help of foul demonic magic, this particular case called for it, Onyxia was a very formidable enemy and a great balance of classes would be needed if they wanted any hope of slaying her. Ishtvahn also went to the blasted lands, to find Costanzus. The remaining members of their army were found in Stormwind. Ishtvahn put out a general call asking for volunteers and was overwhelmed by the amount of feedback. Paladins, warriors, mages, druids, even a handful of deceitful rouges raised their weapons for the alliance. However, as they got off the ship at dust wallow marsh, Nagi realised he was down to his last healing potion. He instructed his comrades to confront the beast and he would catch up later, after he had brewed some new potions. The rest of the army went on, pushing forwards to Onyxia's lair.

As Nagi rushed to catch up, a battered, bloody dwarf confronted him.

'Nagi!' it yelled 'I rushed here to find you, Rasmord, at the village in the hinterlands, quick we need help!'

'Blast it! I should go back to me mates and get em to help out!' he exclaimed

'No time for that!' urged the dwarf, 'We must go quickly before he finds the bindings!'

'Ah yes! Tha bindings. Lucky for us they is in a safe place. I bests go get to em before he can find out where they are,' says Nagi.

'Yes,' says the dwarf, with a small smile forming on his face 'Take me to the bindings.'

As Nagi returned to his village, it seemed he was in deed too late, for the scars of the battle with the burning legion demons had sunk deep into the dwarven village.

'Great Scots! Those poor souls. This is all me fault, me and those blasted bindings!' Nagi yells angrily

'Yes, the bindings,' says his dwarf companion, 'We have to check on them!'

Nagi entered his house and went straight to his bedroom. He removed a grand painting of his grandfather from the wall to reveal a seemingly blank space. He uttered a simple incarnation, something that Myra had taught him, a spell to conceal things, and the door of a safe simply appeared in the blank spot in the wall. He opened the safe to reveal the bindings in all their glory.

'Ha ha! I knew that stupid undead would never be able ta find it here!' Nagi mocks.

'Oh, but he did. Thanks to you, my good friend.' Nagi turns around just in time to witness the dwarf that had led him here morph his shape into that of the undead warlock Rasmord.

'I tortured so many of these pathetic dwarves and none of them knew where you had hidden it. You should have told them, it might have saved them a whole amount of pain,' seethes the warlock.

'You, monster,' rages Nagi, his eyes filled with hate. He reaches to draw his sword.

'I don't think so, you fool!' yells Rasmord as he casts a bolt of shadow energy at Nagi. The bolt hits him in his chest, blasting him backwards across the room.

'And now you die,' announces Rasmord, pulling a dagger from his robes and lunging it into Nagi's heart.

'Well,' he says, taking the bindings from their hiding place, 'That's one down, one to go! I just have to find where that fool of a druid hid the other half!'

Upon hearing of Nagi's death, Myra fell into a deep despair. Retreating from the ruined Dwarven mountain town, she made her home in Ironforge, in a small house provided to her by the king. She was never quite the same, and today, five years after that fateful incident; she has been known to delve herself back into her evil demonic magic. Tanzil, on the other hand, swore to protect his cousin's village until the day that he died. The proud dwarves rebuilt and repopulated after the attack, but they could never convince Myra to return.

'So?' Magni's voice pierces through Myra's reminiscence.

'I don't need your help,' she spits at him.

'Well then you can get your little kiester out of my sight! And dun you ever come back ta Ironforge again!' Magni yells authoritatively. The gnome picks herself up and walks out of the king's chambers, turning her back on the one last thing that was keeping her sane. The townsfolk whisper and stare as Myra continues her walk out of Ironforge, but she doesn't care, not anymore. As she reaches the gates to the great city, she sees a single man standing in her way. The sun is behind the man, casting his shadow down upon the gnome, as if challenging her to try and pass him. She squints up at the man through the sunlight, and feels the surprise come over her face as she recognizes him.

'You!' she exclaims.

'Myra,' replies Ishtvahn, 'Come back where you belong,'

'So what brings you to Ironforge?' she asks, refusing to be intimidated.

'Not just me, Myra,' comes the reply. Myra watches as whom she would consider her closest friends step out from behind the glinting form of Ishtvahn. She also notices a night elf female amongst the group.

'Who's the girl?' she asks.

'I'm Amecylia!' the night elf replies cheerfully, glad to see another female is going to join them.

'Charmed, I'm sure, but I was asking Ishtvahn,' Myra responds dryly. Amecylia's face falls.

'Why do we return here Ishtvahn? Surely we don't have need of a weak-minded warlock who chooses to delve into despicable magic's,' advises Costanzus, forever weary towards the gnome.

'Oh, the mighty hunter speaks does he? Why are you not in the blasted lands, wallowing in the self-pity of your failure?' taunts Myra.

'I've had enough of you gnome!' Costanzus loads an arrow and draws back on his bow.

'Just try me!' mocks the warlock as she begins to cast a summoning spell. Costanzus lets fly with his arrow, but Myra finishes her spell just in time. The hellish spawn of an Imp rises from the ground, catching Costanzus' arrow in its chest. A bolt of shadow magic launches from Myra's hands, making a beeline towards the elf hunter. Costanzus dodges out of the way, and drawing one of his axes from his side, charges at Myra. Myra's demonic ally moves to block Costanzus, but he hacks off the Imp's head with one swift movement. He moves in to finish his attack when…
'ENOUGH!' bellows Ishtvahn. He strikes both Costanzus and Myra down with divine light, stunning them both. 'This is no time for quarrelling amongst ourselves. Myra, we believe we know the whereabouts of Rasmord, and this girl may be the key to defeating her. Her father was the keeper of the second half of the bindings of the wind seeker, and her and her village suffered the same fate as Nagi did. Costanzus, I know you don't appreciate her shadow magic, but we need to put our differences aside for now, this mission calls for it. Now you two shake hands and play nice ok?' scolds Ishtvahn, knocking some sense into the two.

'I'm sorry, gnome, I don't know what came over me,' Costanzus utters

'Me too, elf,' replies Myra. The two very forcefully shake hands, and agree to work together.