Of War and Wings
Chapter One
Flight
The conference chambers were abuzz with activity, even as deep into the capital building of Serania as they were, and properly so. The three worlds of Viarde, Umbris and Lumerre were thrown into absolute chaos of a likes never seen before, even for these worlds which were consistently locked into the throes of war, and had been for the last several decades. It had come to be as a part of life after some time, and most of the people between the trio of worlds had come to accept this as a part of life. This situation, though, was unlike any ever faced in their recorded history. So desperate had their people become, they turned aside their differences as best they could, and they met to discuss their options.
"Direct attack has done nothing against them!" declared a middle-aged man garbed in blue and white robes, wisps of thinning blonde hair dangling over his forehead, glistening from the sweat gathering on his brow line. The debates on their situation were as heated as the packed chambers were, leaving him to abandon formality and wipe his head on his sleeve. His most prominent feature, as were those of his fellows on his side of the table, were a pair of white, feathery wings sported upon his back, flexing occasionally from frustration. "There must be another way to conquer these, these monsters that have slaughtered our people like cattle!"
"We probably have you damned Lumerrians to thank for that!" a man on the opposing side of the table erupted forth, garbed in a black and violet suit with brown hair fashioned back in short spikes jutting upwards towards the ceiling. He too bore wings, but in stark contrast of the other, these ones black and leathery, with dull, rounded protrusions of bone peeking from beneath the flesh at the joints. "If you hadn't dragged us into this damned war, all of our forces wouldn't have wasted their energies, arms and ammunitions against those men you so loosely call 'soldiers'!"
"Don't you dare start that nonsense with me, Umbrian scum!" the blonde retorted sharply, slamming a fist down on the table and glaring daggers at the other. "You self-righteous, all important shadow-dwelling freaks would fit right in the fold with those other creatures, their wings look so damned much like yours! I wouldn't be surprised if you brought this down on us!"
"You've got some nerve, you light-leeching feather duster! As many experiments with spells as your people do, you're probably the ones who drew this here! Those four-legged mutts seemed awfully fond of reducing your best spell weavers to withered husks!"
"Say that again, and I'll see to it that blasted legion has nothing to face from your people but corpses! You Cubi and your world have been a blemish on the evening skies of Lumerre for millennia, it'd be a welcome change to see your world wiped out!" the white-winged man erupted, his own fellows rising to their feet at his side, clearly in preparation for a fight.
"Ha! Any time, anywhere, 'Angel'! You haughty bastards going so far as to name yourselves and your people after things held holy in those ancient fairy tales you follow, you stuck up bastards deserve to go down under those monsters' boots!" At this point, the Cubi man's own people rose, each of them beginning to reinforce their own innate strengths, their Auras, and empower them, preparing for an all-out battle within the conference chambers as the Angels mimicked their actions. This would not come to pass, as the head of the third party, the wingless ones representing Viarde, rose, raising his hands and slamming them down onto the table, in turn causing the entire room to quake violently, however briefly, with a demonstration of his own aura.
"ENOUGH OF THIS!" the man, well into his years with graying hair falling over the sides of his face, roared, silencing the bickering and any other chatter, drawing all eyes to him as he glared furiously at the two parties. "You bicker incessantly as children over old grudges when the fate of our three worlds hangs in the balance! You should be ashamed of yourselves for being so selfish as to put your petty differences over the lives of billions! Sit down and be civil, or I will have you expelled from these chambers immediately and call upon your advisors, who I pray are gifted with more sense than any of you!" It was clear that both were rather offended by his remarks, speaking down to them and berating them as they would a child, but the ultimate truth held true, and judging by the equally obvious silence, he assumed that would be the end of the snide remarks that had been leading up to this over the past several hours. "Now..." he said, calming himself as he took his seat again, clasping his hands together on the conference table before him.
"Well, what else do you propose we do, Viardan?" the white-winged man remarked coldly, earning a sigh from the older one. "We've only won trivial battles, and a handful of those that actually mattered. Our greatest cities have been either evacuated or completely destroyed. I've heard even the dragons of your world have had trouble matching up with the raw brute strength of their larger soldiers, especially those four-legged, reptilian brutes. Humans, angels, cubi, dragons, none of us have had any great effect against them..."
The man nodded, his eyes shut tightly in thought. He seemed pensive, hesitant for a moment as all eyes remained upon him, expecting some great answer after his prior outburst demanding the silence of the quarrelling. What they got was absolutely not what they expected, as he spoke. "... They have sent delegates to us from their forces, bearing messages from their leaders..." he began, his voice now holding insecurity as he sighed heavily. "They call themselves the Burning Legion, and have given us an opportunity... to join them."
"What?!" erupted the cubi man, his black wings completely flaring out as he rose to his feet, paying no mind to his fellows who he mistakenly batted with them. "They attack us out of nowhere, leave thousands of our greatest soldiers dead and trampled into the ground alongside our cities, and then have the gall to extend an invitation to their ranks?!"
"The arrogance is astounding, but well placed." The blonde angel responded bitterly, a frustrated expression upon his face. "Our people wield the aura of Light, yours, cubi, the aura of Darkness, but there hasn't been a single significant dent in their forces, and they seem to do nothing more than feed off of our worlds and leave death in their wake…" His eyes turned to the older man, pointing directly at him. "Even yours, wielding four individual elements, they've done nothing to slow them on any great level, have they?"
A shake of his head admittance to the fact his fellow pointed out. "Fire is overwhelmed by their own, water does nothing to douse the green flames their own spell weavers can call on, the wind and its own capabilities are largely rendered useless against their heavily armored forces, and while the earth itself has great power, everywhere they have stepped foot, we lose the ability to manipulate that area they stood, as if it's simply died from the presence of their legion..."
"Even with all of this though, join them?!" the cubi snapped again, border-lining an absolutely irate glare. "You can't seriously tell me that you're considering this?!"
"I'm not pleased with the decision, but we may have no other choice at this point!" the human responded expediently to the other, casting him a glare that also bore a subtle quality of shame to it. "We've all said it; our forces are amounting to nothing in the face of this foe! As we sit here and delegate on what to do, they are slaughtered without mercy by the thousands each day! This can't just continue in this way, and we have no trump cards to play anymore!" The man sighed, rising from his seat and shutting his eyes. "Let's take a recess for now... we'll reconvene in two hours after we've had enough time to think about it when our heads are cleared..."
As this recess was called, and the representatives from each world began to exit the conference chambers, a tiny machine concealed in the corner of the room beheld each of their exits, noting gestures and the subtle motions of their lips as they spoke between each other. A glass eye focused particularly upon the heads of the groups who had done the most of the speaking, transmitting this information to a recipient far off from the capital building, from the city of Serania itself, to a small group watching and listening to it all play out, displayed upon a wall before them.
"So that's it then..." one young lady remarked, an almost crushed quality to her voice. "They're giving up..."
"Yeah..." a tall man responded solemnly. "They must be so desperate that they can't even see what this would mean..."
"What other options do we have?" another, younger man, followed up.
"... Escape." The young lady from before said simply.
"And how do you propose we do that...?"
"There've gotta be other worlds out there, right? Ones that they haven't reached, or are maybe even safe from them. Maybe-"
"You're off your nut, there's no way we can just find some other world out of the blue like that." The young man responded.
"Then what do you propose we do, just sit here and let them take us in chains?!" she snapped, silencing the others before she sighed. "Sorry... but..."
"No... No, you're right... We haven't got anything else to lose at this point." The young man responded. Silence dominated for a moment as the three of them eyed the others of their fold, each of them quieted by what they had heard, be it in fear,
disbelief or rage. "Get your loved ones together and let them know guys... We've got no other choice; we're leaving these worlds behind."
The usual bustle of activity dominated Shattrath City, deep within the Terokkar Forest. Business and commerce continued on as ever amongst the folk of the upper and lower cities, the liveliness of city life knowing no discrimination, even between the Light-reverent Aldor and the arcane-adept Scryers, most passing each other within the sanctuary city with little more than a glare or upturned nose. Refugees and the poor dwelt in the lower city, be they victims of war, orphans, or simply those with no other place to go as often was the case. Even with their plight evident, it was a far cry from many of their previous situations, a place they could at the very least call home. If not for the presence of the Shattered Sun Offensive on the Terrace of Light, consistently training upon the upper levels of the city for the ongoing fight against the demonic presence of the Burning Legion that pervaded the world of Draenor, commonly known as the Outland, one would think it simply a picture of peace.
This peace was disturbed rather suddenly, as high above the city, the sound of thunder erupted through the air, an oddity, for even though clouds consistently hung over the city, there were no flashes of lightning to be seen anywhere to predate the eruption of sound. Many looked to those who spoke with the elements, the shamans that wandered the city, to see if a storm was coming, or even the druids themselves, known for calling down the force occasionally. Neither knew of any approaching storm, or calling of the elements to their service, which only served to alarm people that much more a moment later as a tear seemed to open up in the air above them, swirling with colors and hues of every kind imaginable. Mages of many seasons were immediately able to confirm it as a gateway, a portal, but to what, or from where, they couldn't say.
This had the Shattered Sun Offensive armed and at the ready. Spell casters and warriors lined up on the ground, surrounding the portal from below on all sides, as those who could take to the skies, be they by means of a spell or mount, closed in around it from above and below. If something was coming, and if it was malevolent, they would be at the ready to meet it head on. Commands and orders were issued in every direction, not one soldier left without orders, and even the Aldor and Scryers managed to set aside their disagreements with each other long enough to stand side-by-side in preparation to greet whatever may have entered their world.
Suddenly, the portal rippled. Something was happening, but what, no one could say until a dreadful thing happened. The portal exploded outward with a flow of bodies, strongly resembling the humans of Azeroth, some living, many otherwise. A familiar blast of green flame followed the wave of forms, which immediately threw those gathered in preparation into battle stances. Flames, ice, lightning and wind danced at the fingertips of dozens present as they prepared for an onslaught from an all-too familiar foe.
It was at this point, from the central building in the terrace, that an older man emerged, clutching a brilliantly glowing staff as white and blue robes with golden trim rippled with each step, turning his eyes up. Sniffing in irritation past a white mustache and beard that matched his head of short hair, he turned to gaze upon another, taller and far more muscular figure, clad from head to toe in golden and white armor. His steps came down in clopping sounds, appropriately matching the hooves he sported on what could only be described as equine legs. Pale purple skin, glowing blue eyes, a massive, crested forehead, and fleshy extensions both from his chin and the nape of his neck marked him clearly as one of the Draenei, and to this old man, an ally at arms. "Are you seeing what I am, general?" the older man asked, his voice betraying his visage to be at middle-aged, at best.
"I am, Khadgar, but I wish I were not." He said coldly, readying his weapons. "Has the Burning Legion become so emboldened that they would strike at the heart of our effort against them so brazenly?"
"It would seem that way at a glance, Tiras'alan... This portal, though, doesn't seem demonic in nature though. It seems-" he was cut off, watching as several more people now emerged from the portal, all of them human by definition of their appearance, something that left him aside himself in disbelief. Despite their appearances, their clothing was foreign to his home, Azeroth, and any culture he know from upon it, even those in the recently relocated city of Dalaran. One particular woman stood out as she plummeted towards the ground, garbed in brown pants, sandals and a white blouse with blonde hair stretching well past her knees and bangs framing her face as she gazed blankly through half-lidded brown eyes. She clutched something in her arms, something that was crying furiously, where was she was completely unconscious. At least, the mage hoped that's all she was. Acting upon reflex, he threw his arm out at the woman, a pulse of arcane energy flowing through it briefly, resonating with her body an instant later, and not a moment too soon, as a mere few feet off the ground, her descent dramatically slowed, leaving her to lie clutching a rustling cloth. He watched as the cloth was cast off, leaving a child with short, pale blonde hair and deep brown eyes shaking the woman, clearly upset and frightened as he cried out to her, seeming to beg her for some kind of a response.
A young man's voice erupted through the air as he shot out of the portal, commanding the archmage's attention as he hollered in a language he could not understand. In his hands he was clutching a tremendous sword similar to many of the ones he'd seen hundreds of passing warriors wield in size, although very different in make. It looked to be a broadsword, forged with its silver blade curving back, with a black handle sporting white wraps and a guard that seemed comprised of black and white tendrils. Brown hair was cinched back at the base of his neck in a ponytail, with brown eyes set forward to on his opponent. A brown leather glove with yellow runes of some kind or another clothed his left arm up to the elbow, the rest of his outfit clearly ill-suited for battle, a simple black shirt, blue pants and black boots. Following him from the portal was a doomguard, cackling as it drove him back through the air, using well its ability to fly over the sword-wielding teen's own lack of ability to, raising its own sword high over its head and swinging down. The teen blocked in time, avoiding a certainly fatal strike, but was driven to the ground, slamming into it and bouncing fiercely, hacking up some blood as he settled down. The demon, initially pleased with its actions, screeched in utter agony as it was hailed upon by flashes of light from all sides, acting paladins and priests present reducing it to little more than a scorched husk in a matter of seconds.
Another's voice came, bearing much more urgency and alarm to it. A man came slamming down onto the ground on his feet, stopping only briefly before he ran to the woman who had fallen to the ground with the child in her arms. He was tall, the same height of perhaps a short male or an average female night elf, but still quite large by human standards, with a powerful frame to match. With short, white spiked hair, and yellow eyes with pupils that Khadgar could have sworn he saw shaped into slits, he was definitely one to stand out amongst the crowd. His garb seemed more appropriate for the battlefield than the young man who had just been spiked to the ground by the now felled doomguard. Although simply dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, pants and leather boots, his shoulders were well-covered in rounded plate spaulders that stretched around the back of his neck, with pair of steel gauntlets that left all but his palm and fingers protected, but were sharpened to a razor point where they lined up with his knuckles. He clutched his weapon, a spear with several sharpened iron hooks on the head, each tipped with a dense black glass, obsidian, tightly in one hand as he knelt besides the woman, and lifted her upper body in his free arm, watching her for a moment as he listened to her breathing, this earning a great sigh of relief from him as the child now clutched onto him and sobbed into his side
The eyes of all present turned back to the portal, as more came out than ever, now some sporting what looked to be, if their eyes hadn't betrayed them, wings, some white and feathery as a dove's, and other's black and leathery, akin to a bat, or as the combatants present were ready to believe, the Burning Legion's troops. Still, it was their humanity that earned them their chance as they descended and fought in a spectacle that seemed to stun the gathered masses around before a voice finally tore through the air.
"What are you all waiting for?!" General Tiras'alan shouted, earning the eyes of those present. "Was the Shattered Sun Offensive trained to merely sit back and watch Sargeras' minions lay waste to the lives of others? Attack!"
And so they did as a massive battle ensued, in the middle of the sanctuary city of Shattrath. Spells, blades, blood and bodies marked the conflict, hundreds of warriors from the Shattered Sun Offensive, the Aldor, the Scryers and those who would associate themselves, willing warriors from all corners of Azeroth and the Outland who would stand and fight in the defense of their world. Alongside them, these newcomers, who seemed to flaunt abilities all their own. The winged ones seemed to work well, the white-winged humans' weaving light to their needs, although it seemed to lack the holy sting claimed by that of the priests and paladins. Those with the leathery black wings wielded darkness and shadows just as adeptly, however failed to match to the corrupting, destructive force of that belonging to the warlocks and death knights. From the array of surviving, wingless humans who poured forth from the portal, however disproportionately to their fallen brethren, they acted in the mannerisms of mages, druids and shamans, but not without their differences. Fire bent to their will, but only when a source to draw from was present. Water, steam and ice proved to be effective in slowing, sometimes slaying their foes, but with sources stretched thin between so many to wield it, its effectiveness was diminished compared to a mage's frost bolt. The earth rumbled and shook for many, this weapon proving to be the most effective as whole sections of the terrace rose in shapes, be they bullets, dolls acting in favor of their masters, or simply weapons drawn from the earth to combat the demonic presence with. Perhaps the closest kinship revolved around these foreigners' use of the wind, drawing ferocious gales that would barrel over any airborne opponent and even bring pause to one upon the solid ground long enough for a fatal blow to be struck. Lightning seemed to be of use to them as well, although where whole storms could be called by the druids, these humans could only summon one bolt at a time, although one or two seemed to achieve it in rapid succession.
It was ultimately the actions of one girl flying through the portal into Shattrath on some kind of metal disk that would end the flow of the battle. Clutching onto a pair of iron cables, she wrapped them tightly around her left arm, moving to one of the spires on the nearest building and wrapping herself around it as best she could, and pulling sharply, not without great pain as the cables cut deep into her flesh and left blood dripping down her arm. Some strange, mechanical frame was torn through the portal, before it suddenly fluctuated, rapidly surging and pulsing before imploding harmlessly upon itself, although severing half of the head of a felguard that had attempted entry into the world. This girl sported brown hair down to her waist with bangs cut in an arch that framed her face, and light brown eyes, and earrings in the shape of double-helixes dangling from their respective lobes, blue and black shoes, blue pants and a white shirt sporting some kind of domed, cloth shoulder accessories. She seemed to fade, her teeth grit in pain from the effort she exerted before her grip released, and she slipped off of the metal object she had been riding upon, rolling down the front of the roof and falling off, only to be caught in the arms of another woman dressed in blue, green and yellow pants, shirt, jacket and slippers, this one sporting black hair that reached as far as her mid-back. Emerald eyes sported a concerned gaze for a moment before the younger woman in her arms moved, turning up a smile and speaking something to her in their tongue, something that earned a much gentler smile from the other girl. She turned as another approached her, an older man, marked with tattoos set identically on his forehead as they were upon her own, three triangles, the outlying ones of the set a pale shade of green, the center one gray. A handful of others around bore the same feature and gathered around her, this seeming to mark them as a clan or family of sorts by the judgment of others.
Khadgar was left sighing as he beheld the activity surrounding the area, absent-mindedly reaching up and stroking his beard once or twice before muttering to himself. "I'm getting too old for this." a statement he couldn't help but grin to himself at as he recalled exactly why he looked the way he did in silence.
The newcomers, refugees as many in Shattrath were, were escorted into the central hall of Shattrath, where their physical wounds were tended to. Those emotional, though, would take more time to heal. Scores of dead were being cleaned up and given proper burials on the outside of the city, most those who had not even made it through the portal alive, the rest fallen in battle, casualties not only from the foreigners, but those whose world they had seemed to stumble upon in their attempt at escape. There were talks of individual blame, but most were quickly halted, as they were reminded of their own plight at the hands of the Burning Legion, and were urged to have sympathy on these newcomers, who seemed to bear no desire to see this fate befall others as it had them.
Khadgar approached one group towards the center of the chamber, comprised of the young man with the ponytail, whose sword had seemed to vanish sometime between the end of the battle and the current moment, the tall man and the woman who had fallen into their world unconscious with what he assumed was their child, as well the girl responsible for closing the portal and the black-haired woman who kept her company as she currently cried against her shoulder and embraced her tightly. The mage had noted another two with their group, the first a tan-fleshed young woman with snow white hair stretching just past her shoulders, her hands concealed in chain and plate mail gloves with the fingertips sharpened to be as claws, sulking her head in thought. The second, a woman with hair he assumed to be dyed, the top half a vibrant shade of pink, the bottom sky blue, cast a gaze of concern out from her green eyes to the formerly sword-bearing young man, who simply offered a soft smile and words of assurance in return. This group had been at the forefront of the fight for as long as they were each able, they would seem to be the ones to speak to regarding their situation.
"Your people have been through quite a trial coming here." He said, his words only earning a confused look from the group. Despite that, he continued. "Are you all alright?"
"Hold up just a sec..." the young man responded, his language now clear to Khadgar as he pointed to him. "Fifteen minutes ago I couldn't understand a thing any of you people were saying, now we're chatting like either one of us knows each others' local language like we have for years? What's going on?"
"It is a little odd..." the blonde, dressed now in robes donated to her by the Aldor to replace her scorched and bloodied clothes, said as she held her sleeping toddler in her lap, gently rocking his upper body back and forth.
"You would have A'dal to thank for that." Khadgar said, gesturing to the glowing, floating figure floating in the center of the chamber, its being comprised of an array of shapes and designs, but somehow was a living being no different than the rest of them. "At this moment, we communicate in much baser method than words. A'dal, I believe, is allowing us to communicate in a method similar to how he does with us, through the holy Light within each and every being. Of course, this will only work in Shattrath City, so until you learn one of the languages of our world, it's probably best for you all to stay here."
"Sounds too preachy..." he muttered in response, earning a sharp elbow from both the taller man and the woman with dyed hair, muttering an apology before he stood up, staring Khadgar straight in the face. "Anyhow... well, all things considered, I suppose we're doing alright. I was honestly hoping that we all would have made it through alright, not have those Burning-whatever guys snapping at our heels." He looked to the brown-haired girl, his expression growing sad in turn as he watched her continue to sob relentlessly against the shoulder of the black-haired woman. "We lost a lot of good friends..."
Khadgar nodded, looking to the girl in silence for a moment before his gaze returned to the young man. "It's to be expected in the war against the Burning Legion... They've devastated worlds for countless centuries and laid waste to everything in their path. Your people have our condolences."
"Nah, they're not 'my people', I'm one of them just the same..." he responded, pausing a moment before continuing, finally offering his hand out to the mage. "By the way, name's Toru Beraun. Sorry, the introduction kind of slipped my mind."
Khadgar grinned ever so slightly at how casually Toru introduced himself, reaching out and grasping his hand firmly. "I am Khadgar. Welcome to Shattrath City."
Introductions continued from there. The tall man had introduced himself as Juno Tirless, the captain of the guard in the hometown himself, Toru, and the blonde woman, his wife, originated from back on their home world. When probed regarding his strange eyes, he forthright admitted himself to be a dragon, and explained that there had been others in their home world of Viarde who chose either to live life in their natural form, or adopt a human shape and live amongst them. His reasons would wait for another time, as he introduced the blonde as his wife, Azalea, and their now sleeping child she cradled against herself, Elias.
The young lady with the dyed hair was Tetra Catori, apparently Toru's girlfriend of the last few years. Dressed in a long blue, flower-patterned skirt and a sleeveless white top, she briefly described and demonstrated that her own power was to create spheres of multi-colored light, completely harmless in nature, although she did joke about being something called the group's 'flashlight'.
After finally calming herself enough to speak, and being aided to stand by her friend, the brown-haired girl responsible for closing the portal introduced herself as Chloe Ridelva, Toru's sister, as well as a mechanic and engineer, something Khadgar hoped meant that her own foreign inventions weren't as apt to explode as a goblin or gnomish device. Her friend, Adira Lei, was a warrior from Viarde, and did so verify that all of the people with her bearing the same tattoo were from the same village, explaining it as a sign of social status given at birth. She was born to a commoner's family, and it seemed that her own family and several members of their village had survived, something she noted in a bittersweet tone, as almost all of the people from her village had come to seek haven from the Burning Legion through the portal, and most had lost their lives in the battle.
The final, silent and sullen member of the party simply introduced herself as Flare Brantley, seeming to just lack the overall will or desire to have words with anyone at the moment. Her dress consisted of a heavy, dark red, sleeveless coat that reached down to her ankles, a black short-sleeved shirt, black pants with extra slack that gathered down around her ankles, and red, orange and black shoes. She shortly turned away from the others and left the chamber to be alone.
The story following their arrival was simpler than one would have thought, once the finer details were cleared up. They came from a trio of worlds, each one that actually exuded auras from within that affected the inhabitants and their abilities from even before birth. Viarde, a world of the four elements of the wind, water, earth and fire, was the largest world and primary one of the group. The other two, Lumerre, the world of light, and Umbris, the world of darkness, were Viarde's moons. These were the worlds from which the winged folk originated from, the white, feathered ones from Lumerre, known as Angels, and the black, leathery-winged ones from Umbris, the Cubi. These were merely names, though, and there was nothing holy or unholy regarding their auras. They were simply a part of the worlds they were born into.
Lumerre and Umbris had apparently always been at war, at least as far as the current generation present was able to tell. For whatever petty reason they had, it showed as a handful of arguments had to be broken up surrounding them, a couple erupting into outright fights before they were separated by their own kin or the Shattered Sun Offensive. It was something they were simply accustomed to.
The Burning Legion, though, was not.
They apparently came without warning, at first striking out smaller villages or towns on each world, surveying the strengths of their average people to see what they would be up against. That was the belief, anyways. It wasn't long before this erupted into full-scale war that left no one unscathed. They fought long, and fought hard, each world with experience and confidence all its own. None of them stood a chance. Even when the worlds of light and darkness discarded, temporarily anyways, their differences and joined with Viarde in combat, the results were ultimately the same, total defeat.
With the politicians of their world having considered and ultimately decided to take the Legions' offer to join it, that left those with any fighting will left to stand on their own. They gathered in secret and modified technology and magic they already had use of to open gateways between their three worlds to seek another. Toru's sister, Chloe, and what she called her artificial intelligence unit, Nana, were a part of the team working on that project. It succeeded, and they gathered, but not without a tail of legionnaires behind them.
"... and after we opened the gateway, that's how we ended up here on... what was it again, Outland?"
Khadgar nodded in response, a thoughtful expression upon his face as he considered the story. Most would think such a thing farfetched, completely outlandish and downright ridiculous. Then again, Khadgar had seen much in his time, from his days as a student in Dalaran, to the events surrounding Medivh and Karazhan, and the end of the Second War and his stranding upon Outland for the next several years. Compared to much, this was still a bit odd, but not too far out there to be discredited. The archmage simply gazed over their group, and then those of their people in the rest of the chamber around them, before his eyes fell back upon his current guests. "Well, you aren't alone here in your plight. The Burning Legion has razed many worlds, and either recruited or completely annihilated almost all of their former inhabitants. That as many of you arrived safely as you did is nothing less than miraculous in itself. For the time being, you're welcome to stay in Shattrath. Unless you plan on going to another world, then I would recommend familiarizing yourselves with our languages and some of our customs so you can operate beyond A'dal's reach. For now, I've got other business to attend to. If there's anything you need, simply ask one of the others of the Shattered Sun Offensive, and they'll assist you." With a polite bow, Khadgar turned and then left, meeting with Tiras'alan by one of the doors. Clearly, they had matters to discuss.
That mattered little to Toru at the moment, who sat back down and sighed, leaning forward onto his legs and hanging his head. "We got lucky finding a place like this on such a pot shot... Still, I can't believe everything's gone..."
"I wish it were that easy." Juno muttered, reaching over and gently stroking the hair of his sleeping son in Azalea's arms. "But our people, they were willing to swear allegiance to the Burning Legion. They'll still be around..."
Toru nodded solemnly in response to that. It was true. At some point, it was very possible they could wind up fighting people they knew and cared about. Instead of focusing on that, though, he looked to Chloe, who was now sleeping soundly in Adira's arms, leaning against the older girl with a look that border-lined absolute despair. Turning his eyes now to the tattooed young woman holding his little sister, he spoke softly. "She alright...?"
Adira shook her head softly, looking down at Chloe as she gently stroked the top of her head. "It's her family... everyone made it through except Anderon. They... they found his corpse on the ground with a huge blade wound through his heart."
"Bad news on top of bad news..." Azalea muttered, hugging her son close and shutting her eyes as she thought of Chloe's adoptive father, whispering a short prayer to hope for his safe passing.
"Yeah..." Toru said with a sigh, watching as Juno rose and started off in the direction of a person with glowing white eyes, violet skin, and the longest set of ears he'd ever seen in his entire life that weren't perched atop a rabbit's skull. "Where're you off to, man?"
"I'm going to try and find someone to teach us whatever the local language is." He said, stopping and looking over his shoulder at the others. "It's been really tough on us recently... Especially with certain events surrounding our group, but we can't just be dead weight. I'm going to see if there isn't anyone willing to help the people from our worlds get settled in with the culture of this one."
Toru nodded in response, watching as Juno approached the figure and began to speak, now turning his eyes back to the floor in a contemplative silence, one quickly broken by Tetra.
"You look like you've got more on your mind than just what happened to Viarde..." she said, earning a weak grin from the young man she now moved to sit beside.
"Woman's intuition?"
"More like knowing my lover." She said with a gentle smile, although not straying from the subject. "What's on your mind?"
He could only pause for a moment, staring at her before he sighed heavily and looked forward, clasping his hands together and tapping his thumbs against each other idly. "I know we had the only portal out of our worlds... But I can't help but shake this feeling trouble came along with us."
"You mean them." She stated very matter-of-factly, earning a nod from Toru. "What makes you think that?"
"Call it a hunch... I don't know, just... Cygnus, Dirge and Desirei don't strike me as the type to die that easily... And I know Skye isn't."
"Let's be careful mentioning him around Flare." Azalea said, earning nods from the others. "She's had it hard enough since he betrayed us, trying to accept that fact. On top of everything else right now, it's probably just best if we don't talk about it too much."
"Yeah." Toru said, reaching into his shirt and drawing out a silver teardrop pendant hanging off of a leather string. "Still... I couldn't ever imagine them just going down to a bunch of foot soldiers like those..."
"Where in the hell are we?" grumbled a young man with a rough, almost certainly vicious voice. His hair was black, scraggily and unkempt, in some places spilling over his face where two of his most prominent features were; manic, almost insane looking violet eyes, and a self-inflicting horizontal scar just below them stretching over the bridge of his nose from the far corner of one eye to the other. A jacket, pants and boots made of heavy leather completed the whole of his outfit, the boots, currently stained and bloodied, sporting a pair of steel skull plates fastened onto their tips.
"We're working on figuring that out at the moment, Dirge." The only woman of their group remarked, with a head of fiery red hair that reached nearly to the floor, well kept and at the moment, splattered with blood. A sleek, black dress was the single piece of her attire as her bare feet shifted slightly on the carpet she was standing on, soggy with the blood of a creature that looked very much the part of a human to her, the difference in it lying in its formerly glowing green eyes and the long, pointed ears it sported. Lifting up one of her arms, she brought her lips to the edge of a long blade protruding from one of her dress' baggy sleeves, sucking some of the blood from it before both blades sharply retracted back within their sleeves. A low rumble of satisfaction, inhuman in nature, emerged from her throat before she smirked. "Their blood alone is saturated in magic..."
"Focus, Desirei." Another man spoke sharply, fingering through several dozens of books upon shelves lined up against the wall. "We're not here to find you a soul to feed off of, you won't require another for at least another decade or two with the one we gave you back on Lumerre. You did well in spying on Beraun's group and copying his sister's technology for the portal, but if we're to make a place for ourselves on this world, we need to learn about it, its language, and what we're up against here." He reached a hand up, brushing back what looked to be very prematurely gray hair, considering he barely looked to be at the end of his twenties. He dressed rather formally, garbed in a white dress shirt and heavy brown coat, black slacks and dress shoes. Pulling a scroll from the shelf, he unrolled it and scanned over the text before sighing, closing it and depositing it back on the shelf. "Fifteen-hundred years back on our world apparently amounts to nothing for even the simple dialects of another..."
"Yeah, right." Dirge scoffed, rearing back and kicking at the severed head of one of the slain in the room, sending it flying into a corner where it thudded to a stop against it and merely dropped down to the floor. "You slept your ass through one thousand, four hundred and eighty of them, Cygnus, and the only ones you were even conscious on up 'til three years ago you spent every waking moment studying up on 'culture'. Hack." His berating of the other man came to an immediate halt as a bolt of light fired past his nose, the searing heat of it alone leaving a burn on the tip of it as the bolt itself melted a rather large hole into the wall it had collided with.
"'Culture' includes spells, combat techniques and tactics. I'd recommend you remember that, mongrel." He said, his hand lifted towards the younger man, still glowing vibrantly before he lowered it to his side and allowed it to flicker out.
Another young man, a couple years more so than Dirge, sat on the edge of one of the tables in the room, his legs tucked up to his chest and his arms crossed over them. His skin was a deep tan shade, and his hair jet black, clustered and fashioned into drooping spikes. Eyes of the same color followed the scene as he sighed. A light jacket, dark blue in color, sat over a white shirt and stretched partly down over his black jeans. Tapping his blue, black and white shoes against the table, he was now deep in thought on many things that had come to pass as of late, and not just the abandonment of their home worlds. No, rather, it was this particular group he was with and the decisions he had made to come to be with them.
"Skye!" Desirei snapped, turning his head to the woman who he knew was just as much of a dragon in human guise as Juno was. "Get over here and help us!"
"I'm sixteen, two of you are older than dirt and Dirge is retarded. You're both on your own." If that was one thing he had retained unmarred through the years, it was his absolute bluntness, something that actually earned a mild smirk from Cygnus as he flipped the page of a tome while Dirge merely growled in his direction.
It was a cry in a tongue they were familiar with, but could not at all understand, that drew their eyes to the door. Guards had arrived, no doubt having been notified of some commotion. Their entrance hadn't exactly been silent, between the attacks they unleashed and the screaming of those now lying dead at their feet. The language they spoke came smoothly and quite gracefully off their lips, even in rage, but regardless of its sound, there was not a thing intelligible about it.
"Think they're mad?" Skye muttered, only to be answered as one, garbed in heavy robes and bearing a staff, threw her hand out and fired a bolt of ice at him. His reaction to it was well enough as he leapt back, just off the edge of the table, and kicked it up, allowing the furniture to intercept the blast as it was frozen completely solid on impact.
"That would be a 'yes'." Cygnus muttered, closing the tome and replacing it on the bookshelf with a sigh. "I suppose saying I wanted to avoid anymore unnecessary bloodshed at this stage would do us no good."
"You sayin' what I think?" Dirge asked, turning his head to Cygnus with a feral grin, only to earn a nod. He chuckled sinisterly, holding his left arm out to his side as the shadows in the room began to move, all stretching out and reaching up into the air towards his arm. They wrapped about it, lengthening well beyond his fingertips in a bizarre display that seemed to both fascinate and freeze their new opponents cold. This darkness continued to extend a good two and a half feet beyond his normal reach, finally ending in a four-fingered claw, with spikes jutting upwards out of the black extension upon his limb.
"Dirge, leave one of them alive." Desirei stated, something that earned a dismissive sniff she knew all too well from the shadow-user, her eyes narrowing into a glare fixed upon him. "That was not a request! If we're going to get anywhere on this world, I need to draw information out of someone, and if you kill everyone in sight then there won't be anyone to get it from!"
"FINE!" he hollered, thrusting the arm of darkness forward. It surged out, stretching out and expanding until it came upon the woman who had shot at Skye. It suddenly exploded outwards, now resembling something more akin to a net then a claw. With no time to react, she was ensnared completely, and swiftly pulled back as Dirge turned his body and slammed his encased victim brutally into a wall, demonstrating force enough that several loose baubles around the room they were in simply dropped to the floor from where they had been placed. The arm retracted immediately, leaving a now unconscious, and perhaps seriously injured, woman to collapse to the ground. "Ya happy now?!"
"Quite." Desirei said, rolling her eyes as she walked to the woman, kneeling before her and sitting her upright against the wall. "Go ahead, do what you want with the rest."
"Like I needed you to tell me!" he quickly retorted. Thrusting his claw out at them again, it extended and expanded once more, but this time, instead of exploding into a net, spears of shadows erupted forth, careening directly for the crowd of guards in the packed doorway.
Unlike before, surprise wasn't completely on Dirge's side. As it met with their group, the majority of guards leapt out of the way to safety. Those unfortunates who could or did not were skewered before their strange opponent cast his arm to the side, pitching their bodies off of the spikes, while simultaneously slamming into the row of guards, driving them to the ground before the arm retracted back to its original size. His technique was sloppy, but certainly effective.
With an animalistic howl, Dirge leapt forward, his claw reared back as he dove straight into the fray of battle. Slaughter, massacre and destruction, those were the top thrills he found in his life, and as he slammed the claw deeply into the chest of one of his opponents and expanded it, shattering his rib cage and shredding his internal organs from within, he cackled madly, tearing his hand free and turning to face his next opponent.
"If there is anything you've achieved I find remarkable within the last three years, Desirei, it's controlling that beast." Cygnus stated, content simply watching the battle.
"Because he knows that I brought him into this world from those other three souls making up his patchwork one, I can end him just as easily." She responded coolly as she bared one of the shoulders of the woman, placing her fingertip gently against it before she simply pushed it through her flesh, straight up to the knuckle. The intrusion was enough to elicit a sharp yelp of pain, even in her now waning unconscious state as Desirei withdrew her own, brought it to her own forehead and began to draw a series of runes upon it with the blood. Licking the finger clean with a long, serpentine tongue as she finished, she bit into the tip of it, drawing her own blood and repeating the runic symbols upon the other's forehead. Upon this, she swiftly drew her arm across her body the motion extending the blade on that arm from its holster beneath her sleeve, and slashed out to her side, cleaving the body of one of their warriors in half as it was flung at her. "Be careful where you're throwing those things, I'm working here!"
Dirge, ducking a slash from one of the swords the city guards bore, merely scoffed and lunged forward, his mouth opening wide as he clamped down on his opponent's throat, biting right through and tearing a rather large chunk out before raising one boot and slamming it into his abdomen, watching him reel back and collapse onto the floor, seeming to drown now within his own blood as he gasped for breath. Dirge spit the chunk from his mouth, flexing his claw in anticipation as he looked at the remaining five guards of the twelve that had come, noting how unnerved they were by his brutal display. "Blame these weaklings for getting in my way...!" he rasped, his breaths short and ragged as he lunged forth into the fray yet again.
Strange... Cygnus thought to himself, cupping his chin in one hand as he watched Dirge fight. He normally has far more stamina than this... His eyes widened considerably at what he beheld next. Just as Dirge was lifting his weapon-like arm to block an attack from an oncoming slash from one of the remaining guards' blades, the arm flickered, and then, in a burst that stunned the blood thirsty young man in his tracks, vanished without a trace. He was wide open as the blade slashed down, tearing a shallow wound down from his right shoulder and all the way to the waist line of his clothes.
"Wh, what...?" Dirge managed to wheeze out, just in time to behold a much more deadly attack in the form of that same blade being thrust straight at his head. Surprise still had him from the disappearance of his primary killing tool, and he was able to register the tip of the sword mere inches from his head.
A figure then suddenly appeared before Dirge, slamming a rather large dagger against the sword and directing it away before spinning and slashing across the guard's chest with the blade sunk in all the way to the hilt. The guard erupted with a brief cry, quickly drowned out as blood poured from his mouth before he simply collapsed in a heap to the ground.
Dirge, his bearings gathered once more, only spared a glare to Cygnus' back. "I had it under control." He growled.
"Yes, I'm certain your plan was to catch the blade with that thick skull of yours." Cygnus muttered, reaching back with his free hand and roughly shoving Dirge, knocking him a few feet back before he fell. "I'm ending this." Grasping the dagger's handle with both hands, it began to glow, corresponding with two spots on his middle back that shone through even the fabric of his coat. The weapon in his hand seemed to extend only slightly at the blade, before growing an entirely new extension beneath it. As the glow faded, he was left clutching a dual-bladed weapon that looked very similar to the ones clutched by the warriors of the guards in general design. The most striking difference laid within the blades at either end, the first one a slightly longer version of the dagger he had used upon the first, the second a flamberge.
It seemed the guards were learning to work past the surprises these newcomers continued to present them with, as the remaining four charged all at once, their weapons raised and their gazes locked upon Cygnus as he raised his weapon up to shoulder level, clutching it tightly in his left hand. If sheer power was not an option against them, numbers would be their greatest chance.
"Fools." Cygnus muttered before sprinting directly into the fray, crossing the weapon over his body as it began to radiate a bizarre violet energy all about it. The instant he was upon his challengers, he seemed to vanish, leaving in his wake a brief fluctuation of the energy that had enveloped his weapon. He settled back down behind them, the same aura briefly appearing wrapped around his own frame before vanishing. As it did, the remaining four suddenly had wounds erupt forth with blood that they had not the instant before. One's head dropped, another's arm and weapon following before they all simply fell dead to the floor.
As his own weapon vanished, Cygnus seemed to shudder briefly before dropping forward, collapsing onto one knee and breathing heavily, gulping down air as he was now seeming to do his best to support himself. He noted Dirge's presence behind him, turning a weary, but serious as ever expression to the young man.
"So, whatever's going on is even effecting your aura." He said, the word in reference to the abilities everyone to one extent or another bore back upon the three worlds they hailed from.
"It would seem so..." he stated, taking a few deep breaths before rising to his feet, clearing some sweat from his brow upon his sleeve.
"What the hell is going on?"
"I'd like to know that much myself... I have a theory or two, but we'll need to see a few more things play out before anything can be called for certain." He turned away from Dirge, now approaching Desirei and once more stopping by her side, taking note that she was now actually pinning the woman down by her throat rather than simply looming over her. "I see our subject is awake."
"Yes, and she's a bit feisty." The woman garbed in black muttered, gazing at the carnage the two had wrought out the corners of her eyes before eying Dirge in particular. "Wait a moment and we'll patch you up."
"Whatever, just get on with it." Dirge muttered, seeming more concerned for his ruined jacket as he inspected it than the accompanying wound he sported.
Desirei shrugged softly, looking back down to the woman, speaking softly, but clearly flexing her authority in the matter as she gave a brief shove down on her throat. "I'm going to take my hand from your throat now, and you're going to answer my questions. If you don't, I'll put it back, and next time I'll let you suffocate. Do you understand?" A brief nod was all that she needed as she gradually rose her hand from her captive's throat, although placing it back firmly down on her chest to ensure she didn't have the luxury of movement. That same nod was also satisfactory in allowing her to know that the spell between the two of them, activated by the runes they shared in each others' blood, was working. Their communication, although still verbal to the others around them, was now more connected to their thoughts than the sounds coming from their mouths, a common spell used in wars past on Viarde to interrogate prisoners who spoke a completely different dialect. Reaching forth with her free hand, she brushed a few locks of shoulder length white-blonde hair out of her face, ensuring she had her attention as she continued. "Now, if you haven't guessed by now, we aren't from this world. First, where are we? What planet is this, and what city are we in now? Furthermore, exactly who and what are you and how many more are there of your kind?"
There was a pause, undoubtedly reluctance to surrender information so easily. This was remedied by a very sharp, very sudden push down upon her chest that drew a pained cry from her. As she looked to the red-haired woman's arm, she could have sworn she saw scales and claws for a few seconds, but merely dismissed such thoughts as delirium from taking such a strike as she had from the man with the black hair. Regardless of her personal feelings on the matter, one thing was for certain as she gazed out the corners of her eyes, noting the corpses of her compatriots. If she didn't cooperate, odds were very good they would go and find someone who would. Swallowing her pride as she looked back to the woman gazing down at her, she began to speak.
"This world is Azeroth." She said, not without some difficulty due to the weight on her chest. "Specifically, you're in the territory of my people, the Sin'dorei. This is our capital, Silvermoon City."
"Now we're off to a good start." Desirei said softly, lightly increasing the pressure upon her chest. "However, you still didn't tell me who you are."
"Ceremi Sunward." She responded without missing a step, doing her best to keep upon this woman's good side for the moment.
"Well then, Ceremi, what was that little display of yours earlier with that blast of ice, hm?"
"My spells. I am a mage, and I specialize in using frost-based magic."
"A mage, huh...?" Desirei seemed to take this under consideration, thinking for a moment or two before she continued. "I've seen your warriors, and now your spell weavers. Tell me, what things can your people do?" She was stopped as the gray-haired man next to her spoke to her, seeming to give her an order. The fact that Ceremi could not understand his words left her to believe she was under the effects of some spell, and she confirmed that much as she took the time to detect its source upon each of their foreheads, written in blood. There was no time for her to delve any further into what other consequences this spell may have had for her, as Desirei looked back to her.
"I'm afraid our time here's short. You see, we have to get out of this city before more of your allies come and make things even more hectic. However, it's not as simple as just letting you go and making a break for it. As I said, we're new to this world, and we'll need a tutor in its ways. You've been elected to play that role. You'll teach us the ways of this world, its language, everything we need to know to survive, whether you like it or not. Now then..." she said, grasping the elvish woman by her robes and pulling her up to her feet as she stood. "You wouldn't happen to know a way out of here that wouldn't involve cutting down everyone in our way, would you?" Taking note of the pause on the woman's features, Desirei sneered, pulling her sharply forward, so close their noses contacted, and for the first time, Ceremi took note of her eyes, as red as her hair, and serpentine in nature. "I expect honesty. If I think you're lying, we'll find someone more 'willing' to liberate information to us, and I promise you, we won't be as nice as we are with you right now."
Ceremi grit her teeth, finding herself caught in an inescapable corner. Shutting her eyes briefly as she clenched her fists at her sides, she sighed, her shoulders sulking in defeat. These people wouldn't joke about something like that. If she didn't cooperate, more unpleasant methods were undoubtedly going to be used on any successors to her ill-fated situation. For the time, she had no choice but to follow their orders.
"There is a way... I can teleport us out of the city to an outpost at the other end of the continent away from the city and my people..."
"That's a good girl." Desirei said in a condescending tone, smiling and cupping her chin in her free hand. "Be a dear then, will you?" Saying this, she stepped around her, releasing her chin, but keeping a firm grip upon the back of her neck.
Ceremi knew well Desirei was considering the chance she might try to teleport herself and leave them stranded. How much of her abilities she was familiar with, she couldn't say, but it was clear this woman wouldn't take any chances. She shut her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to center herself and her thoughts. She'd need to concentrate to keep from sending them all to their death via a mishap in the spell.
Raising her hands before her, she began to mutter softly, speaking words of magic and making gestures with her hands. A light blue glow lit around and between them as she continued on like this for a moment. Finally, in a final gesture, she thrust her hands out, causing the glow between them to flash and vanish. Before them, a much larger light appeared, materializing in the image of what looked to be a base camp of sorts set in a damp, muddy region. Gazing around, she could see that her word had been verified to them all.
"Skye, bind her arms and put her on a leash." Desirei ordered, looking to the boy with the short black hair who merely nodded. She watched quietly as he ran his hands over the jagged ice encasing the table, a blue glow surrounding them. Before her eyes, the ice melted, now left as a mass of water that, much to her surprise, still held its form around the table as the ice had. Making a gesture with one of the hands, a pair of water spheres separated from the mass, splashing over her hands and freezing on the outside, creating a thick shell. Within the shell was water which, although was terribly cold, posed no threat of deep freezing her fingers or hands. She found them being pulled behind her back by some invisible force, the one she assumed this boy wielded, as they connected and seemed to merge into a single bond.
This time, a thick strip of water shot out, quickly wrapping around her neck and solidifying into a frozen collar. Trailing from it was a thin strip of water, one he actually clutched onto even as the glow largely faded from his hands, leaving a trace luminescence spawning from the palm of his hand clutching the tether.
"You and I will go first, just to make sure everything's safe. Skye will know if something's wrong because I'll cut the tether, understand?"
She could only manage a nod, balling her fists up behind her back as she began to walk, Desirei now clutching into the collar about her neck and guiding her as if she were a dog. They entered the portal, and in that same instance, exited, stepping down on a damp stone floor. She noted a soft sigh from the woman behind her. She sounded almost pleased with the sensation upon her own bare feet. They now stood in the midst of a stone hut, two stories tall, facing at the door leading out to what was undoubtedly swamp land before them. They had safely arrived in Stonard, the Horde outpost in the Swamp of Sorrows.
"The Alliance!" a familiar voice rang through the air, turning Ceremi and her captor's heads to behold a black-haired woman of her race, standing aside a creature that looked the part of a human woman from the waist up, save the horns and wings she sported. From the waist down, she stepped forward on equine legs, a wiry tail whipping through the air as she snapped an actual whip between her hands.
Behind her were others, a male of the race with embers now dancing at his fingertips, and standing atop a platform at the end of a short, wooden staircase, two green men and one woman, Orcs, tremendous in size, with tusks stretching out from their bottom lips and pointing directly up towards the ceiling.
"You failed to mention a welcoming party." Desirei muttered in Ceremi's ear in a tone promising punishment. "And what is this of an 'alliance'...?"
"I'll have to explain it later..." she muttered back before looking to the black-haired woman with a pleading expression in her eyes. "Lady Cersei, please, stand down! I am Ceremi Sunward, a guard of Silvermoon City! You must not fight this woman, she is powerful, and has allies who are just as such!"
"So you escort them to our doorstep?!" she snapped, earning a flinch from her fellow Sin'dorei. "Have you no pride as a Blood Elf? Surrendering to one such as this and bending to her will like a slave? You certainly look the part at the moment, I must say though; I suppose that's accurate then."
"What is she saying?" Desirei muttered.
"Nothing of consequence to you at the moment..." Ceremi spoke just as softly, her gaze not at all leaving Cersei's own.
"It sounds like she wants a fight."
"She very well may if you don't let me speak." Ceremi returned without hesitation, now directing her full attention at Cersei. "Lady Cersei, you must take my word for this! Their group slaughtered an entire guard unit in Silvermoon City; there is no benefit or gain in starting a fight you can't hope to win!"
"You doubt my abilities now?!" Cersei snapped, slamming her hand down on the thick wooden table before her, a twisted grin coming over her lips. "Perhaps a demonstration of her power is in order then! If she can defeat my minion here, perhaps I'll consider standing down! However I can't speak for the Orcs, you see, they-" she stopped, watching as something suddenly lashed out and drew her minion across the table, forcing a shriek of terror from it.
This was something that frightened Ceremi for two different reasons. The first, striking fear into a Succubus, a demon summoned from the depths of the nether, was not something to be taken lightly. They delighted in infliction of pain unto others, and thusly knew how to take it. What was happening now though had been so frightening, it chilled both the demon and her to the bone. This was where the second part came into play. Wrapped around the Succubus' neck, leaving the creature clawing at it desperately and choking for air, was a tail. A long, scaly tail with a spear-barbed tip, black in color that traced right back up the back of Desirei's gown. Ceremi turned a now wide-eyed gaze to her captor's face, now shuddering in terror as she beheld fangs in the mouth of the grinning woman behind her, matching those serpentine eyes that seemed to flare with bloodlust.
"Y... you're a..."
"A dragon, dear." She stated, her voice reverberating through the chamber. With a sudden flick and squeeze of her tail, a loud snap was heard, and the creature within her extra limb's snare falling completely limp before it dropped in a heap on the ground, blood trickling from the corners of its mouth. "Seems you must be familiar with us if you recognize my traits, although I'm not wholly sure what significance they have in your world."
Ceremi shuddered at the thought of Desirei being a dragon, especially the color of the scales. This was not something to take lightly. Whatever world this woman was from, it may have meant something different, perhaps nothing at all, but a black dragon on Azeroth was something to be feared, and for good reason with the likes of Onyxia and Deathwing known to every living being on the planet. Doing her best to gather herself, she looked to Cersei, who seemed completely mortified. Those behind her seemed to have the color drained from their faces as well, any fight in them completely gone from the spectacle.
"Will... will you please stand down now...?" she choked out, earning nods from them all.
Desirei merely chuckled darkly as her tail disappeared beneath her gown and her features returned to their more human ones. "Good girl." She said softly. Turning around, she stuck her head through the portal for a moment before withdrawing it, only for her allies to step through after, Skye actually supporting Dirge as they walked. The dragoness nodded as she turned back to Ceremi, drumming her fingers lightly upon her collar. "Tell them that information of our presence here is not to leave this camp. We will require a place to stay, food, and peace as you teach us about this world in the days to come. In exchange for that, we won't raze this insignificant little dot on your world's map to a cinder, and when our business here is done and we're well taught about your world, we'll be on our way without a word or a drop of blood shed."
Ceremi nodded softly, looking apologetically to the others now as she began restating the demands they were presented with, word for word. As the words left her lips, and the four currently holding her own life and those of the others around in their hands spoke, she had to wonder if what she was doing was ultimately going to be the thing that preserved them, or that condemned them beyond saving.
I started this off as something for my guild on the Ravenholdt server, something fun to enjoy while I tinkered with my original characters in the process. There's more development going in upcoming chapters that'll help blend them into the world of Azeroth. Until then, hope you enjoy.