BLOOD LEPRECHAUN by J Cae
A/N: FLASHY AD: Could I beg you please to go look at a pencil sketch of Syl that I did? Please?! Just click on my profile and click the link for my homepage (I've got nothing on my homepage, but anyway). This is how Syl would look like before she was killed if I work for Blizzard. Please comment on my picture by dropping a line about it when you review this chapter (I totally wish --sigh--). Feel free to tell me that I should just stick to writing.
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And it's been awhile
Since I could hold my head up high
And it's been awhile
Since I could stand on my own two feet again
-Staind, "It's Been a While"
-
We escaped from them.
Yes we did.
How they tortured us, how they took our pride and made us crawl on our hands and knees.
But no more. They will not dare harm a single hair on us.
We have escaped, and they are not going to get us.
And, by the Goddess, we will not forget this hate.
-
CHAPTER THREE: DEVOURED
(OUTLAND, 3 WEEKS AFTER ILLIDAN'S DEPARTURE)
Betrayed...abandoned...left to die...
"Mistress?"
Injured...soaked in her own blood...broken...
"Mistress!"
Maiev Shadowsong gave a terrible shriek and kicked her helm from her side as hard as she could. She barely noticed her surroundings as she crashed knee first to the ground and she began to tug furiously at her own dark long curls. Her screams were hollow, but her tears were real. No more signs of the famous Warden Shadowsong was left in her. Nothing remained now but frustration, unhealed injuries and shattered pieces of her heart. She did not bother to wipe the tears that marred her cheeks. Let them flow. Let them choke her. Let them drown her.
"Elune...Goddess...what have I done to merit this?" she screeched, clutching at her own heart where a terrible, dull pain swelled. "Could you show me why you have forsaken me? Could you show me that now?"
"Mistress, please," beside her, Davita, her one and only companion pleaded. "Everything will be all right. The Goddess has not abandoned us."
"No, she has abandoned us!" Maiev pushed the huntress away from her--arms that were once so strong could now do no more than disturb air. "Look at us. We have tried. We have. But Illidan has closed all portals and left this damned place. There is no way home for us. We are stuck in this hopeless world, surrounded by demons of every sort. There is no hope left."
Dragging her sight across the red desert, Davita found it hard not to agree. Neither she nor her mistress had the power to reopen a portal--and even if they had, they did not know how to make it work either.
And since they discovered that Illidan was gone and they were left to fend for themselves in the broken world, many in their army had become restless, desperate and angry. Most blamed Maiev for her failure as a leader and left her to seek better fortune. Some did not survive the barren wilderness. Some were killed by fierce local demons. Some wandered off and never returned. In the end, only seven chose to remain by their mistress's side--and only Davita was still alive after several weeks crawled by.
The heated desert wind brushed Davita's blue hair away from her sweat-dripping face. She turned her eyes upon the sun, forever shrouded by clouds of grey and crimson. There were times when she fiercely wished she could have joined the dead. But quickly, she would remind herself that if she died as well, Maiev would be left alone in this friendless world. Of course, the Warden had her flaws--but she was a mere mortal, not a deity. How could those in the army just put the blame on her for everything and walk away as though they had no responsibilities of their own to bear? Davita was never particularly acquainted to the Warden, but she did not have the heart to condemn her. She stayed behind with Maiev--either path she chose would eventually lead to death. Why not let her conscience remain clear?
Among the seven who chose to follow the Warden, a druid was the first to fall ill and die after consuming poisoned water from a nearby stream. Then at the end of a whole week of thirst and starvation, the other five companions lost their sanities and set fire to themselves. Poor Maiev was forced to watch as the flames went high, consuming five of the only friends she had left. She climbed up to a high ridge and tried to throw herself down, promising her dead companions that she would not leave them alone. It took Davita three sleepless days to try and talk her out of it. Maiev did follow her down the ridge, but not one more sane word had been heard from her.
"There is always hope," Davita muttered fiercely under her breath--it was barely enough to convince herself. "As long as we do not deny ourselves of it, there will always be hope."
She took Maiev by the arm and led her down the gentle slope. The food supplies they brought with them through the portal were claimed by the army who deserted them. Surely this hunger would soon conquer both their wills, and if they did not find proper food soon, survival would be out of the question. It was getting harder and harder to stay optimistic each passing second, even if they wanted to.
Maiev stumbled and refused to get up even when Davita tried to help her.
"Remember Naisha?"
"Yes," Davita hissed gravely. "Yes, I remember Naisha."
"I should never have abandoned her," the Warden wailed. "I understand why the Goddess would have me trapped here in this unforgiving world now! I ran away when I should have faced death with Naisha and our sisters. For such cowardice, Elune is right to punish me harshly. Oh! If only I had known. Being buried alive seems a much sweeter death than waiting here for something to kill me."
"No, Maiev," Davita put her arms around the Warden. "No. That is not true. Elune is forgiving. She knows you didn't do it out of selfish fear of death. She must have meant for you to escape from the Tomb so that you could warn us of the danger--" She could not continue. If Elune the Great Goddess was forgiving, how could She leave one of her own here to die?
Maiev's silvery eyes dimmed, "Or was it because I left Tyrande to die? The priestess is much more favoured than I, and I can see it was wrong of me to have infuriated the Goddess."
"Don't think about it too much," Davita pleaded. "It was not your fault. You had no choice."
Here in this merciless world, one would inevitably start to doubt many things--and Davita was not certain she would like to doubt the Goddess. She did not go on.
"Come on," she offered Maiev a hand. "Let's move on."
"Just leave me here. I'm too weary."
"Here. Let me help you take off your armour. That would lighten your burden," Davita began to remove Maiev's shoulder and chest plates--the Warden did not protest. The armour that she once wore with much pride was now stained with weeks of grease and blood. Davita could not but fight remorse as she let the beautifully carved metal slip from her hand to the red sand--it was as though she was letting go of parts of Maiev, and parts of herself which became too heavy for them to carry.
But Davita could not accept it when the warden set her round blade alongside the pieces of heavy armour--it was a gift from Maiev's mentor the night she was initiated, an elegant weapon forged with ancient iron and bronze, a blade that was the blessing and honour from a teacher to a favoured pupil.
"You can't leave that," Davita whispered her protest.
"Rather die than fight," Maiev muttered and attempted to move on.
"Maiev..."
The huntress blinked back tears as her mistress headed down the red desert. Without the heavy armour, Maiev seemed so small and helpless. As was her will to live shrinking each passing hour.
"I'll carry it, Mistress," Davita reached for the round blade and strapped it to her back with her three-bladed sword. Then, she trotted to catch up with her mistress.
-
Davita's eyes dimmed as the sun retreated behind gloomy colours of the night. One more day had past, and she and Maiev were to wander another night without food, water, or aid. Instead of finding her vision honed by nightfall like she always did back home, she realized she was almost blind in this ominous darkness. She cast a look in Maiev's direction. Neither did her mistress's eyes reflect any starlight--there was nothing in the night skies in this forsaken world.
"Perhaps we should rest," the huntress suggested. "But not here in the open. Who knows what awaits in the darkness. We best find a safer place." Oh the sheer irony! Where in the world could she find a safer place when there was nothing but endless deserts around them? Not even a boulder was in view.
"We'll rest here," Maiev said with a sigh. "After all, we are going to die. Who cares where?"
"Maiev..."
The Warden laid herself flat on the red sand, and Davita beside her after removing the weapons strapped to her back. Long had she cast aside her huntress's armour, and soon, she realized, she would have to make the choice Maiev did and leave her weapon in order to be able to drag herself on for another step. But for now, she would hold onto the blades. She made sure the weapons were within arms length in case some dim-witted demons should come to try their luck.
Davita listened to Maiev's breathing as it became deep and easy and knew that she was asleep. Sometimes she envied the Warden who already accepted death before it came. Maiev welcomed death--she did not worry about demons sneaking up on her while she was sleeping. She did not worry about throwing herself off a cliff. But Davita just could not help it. She did not want to die yet, even though there appeared to be no other choice. If Lord Death was near, she wished for Him to grant her one wish--that He should take her back to Ashenvale before claiming her life.
Soft footfalls in the night alerted her.
A lone felhound pup.
Davita thought she could hear the breath drawn by the demon. In and out. In and out. Give me your blood. Feed me. Satisfy my appetite.
Tensely, the huntress reached for her weapon. The thought of some demon hungering for your blood was hardly comforting. She risked a glance at Maiev who showed no signs she knew how close to danger she was. It was only one demon, Davita tried to tell herself she could handle the whelp--and with any luck its friends were not around.
When the felhound pounced, she was ready.
The demon hound clamped down its jaw on Davita's three-edged sword. The huntress sprang to her feet immediately and tried to wrestle her weapon loose, but the felhound was far too strong and tossed her to the floor instead. Sensing that she was not going to leave it to feed, the felhound charged madly at the huntress who rolled off the floor to escape its stampede. She knew Maiev's round blade was somewhere on the ground next to where the Warden was lying. But it was too dark for her to even see, and Davita could only make out what was immediately in front of her. How was she to find the weapon?
"Mistress!"
The felhound spit the three-bladed sword back at her and it came flying in her direction. Thank her quick elven reflexes she was able to sidestep in time. But now without weapon and almost blind in shaded darkness, she knew she would probably not be able to defeat the beast. She shivered at the thought of death with the felhound's sharp horn in her spine.
"Mistress!"
By the low growling of the violent demon, Davita knew her opponent was enraged. She could not leave Maiev defenceless, but she had no power to protect her mistress either. She only prayed that the warden would be awake enough to run.
The felhound's paws shifted in the sand--she could hear it. It was coming for her, charging forward with its jaws wide open. She listened, frozen in fright, trying desperately to shift her footing at the right moment to save her own life.
Too late.
She could feel the beast's sharp claws digging into her flesh--one through her arm and the other in her belly. She tried to wrestle herself free, but the pain was so intense she could hardly even stay awake. In that split second, she could think of nothing. She could make no sound.
But somewhere in the darkness, there came a familiar voice that almost brought tears to her eyes. A voice that was both her leader and only friend left in this broken world.
A voice that would condemn her to her death, "Let go, Davita."
"Maiev! Mistress! Please help me!"
"Let it kill you. Let go of life and welcome death..."
"No!!!"
Davita could no longer hear the warden's voice as though the world had become completely silent. It seemed that Maiev had either left, or was waiting on a side for the felhound to be done with the huntress and then take her life. Davita used the last bit of her strength to struggle, but it was no use. There was nothing she could do about the giant jaw that had clamped down upon her shoulder. So this was it. This was death...
The felhound collapsed on its side with a throw-knife buried in its stomach. Another one hit it again. It roared and tried to get up, but a third throw-knife embedded itself into its heart and punctured the vital organ. The demon crashed onto the floor, bathing in its own pool of blood, never to rise again. Davita stared numbly at the dark figure with her jaw dropped.
"Mistress?"
Maiev said nothing, but just laid herself down on the sand again.
-
And suddenly, Davita found herself staring at the corpse of the felhound--stinking flesh, covered with the raw, strong stench of blood. In her head she was forming pictures of orcs devouring the meat of a deer they hunted in the woods. They had butchered the poor animal and just tore the flesh and ate, never even bothered with thanking Nature for this generous gift. They ate like ferocious beasts, without guilt, without feeling the dead animal's pain. But hell, they were eating something.
The corpse of the felhound did not look appetitive at all, but still it was tempting to someone who had gone without food for longer than was tolerable. How did those orcs feel as they were consuming an innocent live? Had they been ravenous beyond any sense? Was that the reason orcs were savage and aggressive--that they were always hungering? What did a gulp of blood taste like? These were things unknown to Night Elves that respected life and would never take another life for their own purposes--even as they were starving to death.
But this demon was already dead--there were too many of them for the good of the world anyhow. To leave its body to decay would be such waste...without even realizing what she was doing, Davita ripped out the felhound's front paw. Dark bubbling blood flowed from the wound, and she cupped her mouth over the opening, sucking hard. The sickening stench of the blood almost made her vomit, but at least she was drinking something warm that would keep her alive. She squeezed her nose with a hand and forced herself to swallow.
A funny feeling struck her--it was as though thousands of vigilant eyes were turned upon her. But when she looked around, she could see no one. The night was quiet and chokingly dark, and the warden was still lying on her side probably asleep. There could be other demons lurking around, but the last thing Davita wanted to do was to deal with any more of them.
Forcing down a few more mouthfuls of demon blood, she tried the flesh. Her herbivorous teeth were not made to tear raw flesh, but hunger pressed strength into her jaws and she chewed and swallowed as though she had not eaten in a thousand years. Each bite she took eased her hunger, though it also increased the weight upon her conscience. What was she doing? Had she gone completely mad from hunger? Suddenly, she pictured herself as those mythical blood-sucking fiends she heard from the Ancients as a child--those soulless, cruel creatures of the night that walk for the sole purpose to feed on mortal's fresh blood...
"Eater of demons..."
A voice made her pause and almost choked on a mouthful. She was indeed being watched. And what was she being called? Eater of demons? Something even more vile and miserable than demons themselves?
"Eater of demons, you are weary. Find rest in me...Sleep..."
Sleep? Oh yes, how she yawned. She was tired. She had not slept in quite a while, and beyond the dark the voice's command was tempting. But not on an empty stomach, she would not obey. Pushing the bit of demon flesh into her protesting mouth, she chewed, swallowed, until her eyelids became too heavy for her to stay awake...
She did not even know when she hit the ground...
-
The searing sun was high when she opened her eyes again.
Something did not feel quite right, although she could not put words to the feeling. Pulling herself up from the heated sand, she fought the wave of nausea that hit her and struggled to stand. As though for the first time again, she discovered the world around her to be so dizzyingly crimson and bright. She had to raise a hand to shield her eyes from the unnatural light. Tears rolled down her cheeks--funny, but she could think of no reason why she must weep. She wiped the moisture with the back of her other hand--and gasped to see that it was coated with her own blood.
She was weeping blood.
She covered both eyes with her hands in frantic hopes to try and stop the bleeding, but it availed her nothing. Red liquid seeped through her fingers and travelled down her arms, and she thought she was going to go blind.
"Maiev, help me! I'm..."
Wait.
She risked a peep.
Maiev was no longer there.
Nor was the dead felhound.
In the place where Davita last saw them were two trails of blood, leading east towards the sun. Strange tracks marred the earth. The three blood-covered throw knives were on the ground--they had been pulled out of the felhound's body and cast aside, as were the round blade and the huntress's own three-bladed sword.
It appeared that both Maiev and the corpse of the felhound had been dragged away--but by whom or what and why? Davita fought to suppress the rising fear in her mind and forced herself to concentrate. Who could have taken the warden, and where to? Oh, such folly of her to have fallen asleep when she should have kept vigil during the long night! Had Maiev followed those demons out of her own will? Or was she made to go with them? Was she injured? Was she even alive?
Davita refused to accept the notion that Maiev could already be dead. She had to find the warden--Goddess willing, before it was too late.
Sucking in a deep breath, she started staggering towards the sun, following the meshed up footprints in the desert. She knew she should expect a fight if she were to win the warden back--but how could she even wield a weapon when she had become almost blind? She chose to carry the warden's round blade as well as the throw-knives, remorsefully leaving her own weapon behind. She had no other choice. She could not carry so many things with her.
Speaking of those footprints, what could have made them? She could name no creature with feet shaped like that. They were, without a doubt, residents of Outland--no reason for her to suspect otherwise. But why would they only be interested in Maiev and not her?
Pictures of horror filled her imagination, and she put more speed into her tired legs, breaking into a dash. How could she have been so careless? How could she have slept through it when the demons came for Maiev? She would never forgive herself if anything happened to the warden.
The trails of blood seemed to thin out under the sun until they melded completely with the colour of the red soil. Or was it only the blood gushing out of her eyes that blurred her vision? Damn it! She could do nothing about the bleeding, and it was getting harder to see. But she would go on nonetheless--her determination would propel her until she made sure her mistress was delivered to safety.
All of a sudden, a stagger of wind attacked the parched earth, sweeping up a small sandstorm. Davita hugged her tattered clothes close to her frail body and shielded her eyes and nose from the gust. Oh blasted wind! The blast of air felt merely fluttered through her rags, but was strong enough to erase the footsprints in the sand. Davita cursed like a foul-tongued human, forgetting all Night Elven manners. If these sole clues were gone, where else could she turn to find her warden's captors?
Oh Elune! Great Goddess of love and divinity, leave not your own children to die.
As though struck by some holy signs, Davita raised her head to find a tiny spot in the crimson heavens. Was that the sun? No. Sunlight seemed to fade dramatically as the strange foreign light began to glow. What would that light be? A star? The...moon? An eclipse? Had the Goddess answered her prayer?
As the world dimmed around her, she could see a massive fortress standing before her. It had been there all along, glaring at her through infinite darkness. It could not be seen in daylight. Only by the unholy night could anyone see it and find the entrance to it...
-
Davita blinked.
One second ago she had been standing outside the fortress. But now she was inside and she had no idea how. It took her bloodied eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness indoors.
And how she wished she could have gone blind.
Elune! Her mistress was lying on the floor, her body hideously mutilated. The only thing Davita could still recognize was the face--Maiev's soft silvery eyes that were filled with so much pain. The pain of not being able to die when she was already so close to leaving. Bending over her were demon guards of every kind, smiling maliciously at the newcomer standing in the middle of their hall of feast.
Davita became aware of what the bloodied things strewn about the demons' feet were--skeletons, limbs, broken bodies of the thirty Night Elves who had abandoned Maiev for death. How ironic that they should all end their lives together in the torture chamber of ferocious demons.
"Maiev?"
Davita heard the name coming out of her lips. Could that mess of blood really be the warden whom she had been trying to rescue? Where were the rest of her limps?
The warden turned her head slowly, and looked at her with so much pain that shook her very core. Aye. This suffering soul belonged unmistakably to Maiev.
The huntress held up the found blade at the demon guards, "Let her go, you monsters, or you will suffer me!"
It was a joke, nothing more.
The band of demons started to move towards Davita. One stride at a time, pushing her one step backward towards her own death. Demon lips curled up in greed and lust, but the glove fist that held the round blade trembled without control. The huntress could feel her opponents' foul breaths on her, stinking, poisonous, frightening...she tried to draw back, but it was not long before she found herself with her back to the wall. The demons lunged at her, shredding her clothes, clawing at her flesh, ready to feast on her blood when suddenly...
"Hold!"
There came a voice so masculine and strong. The demons fled in all directions as a shadowed figure moved across the room.
There is always a bigger fish, so the saying goes, Davita reminded herself, swimming in tears. Of course there will always be a viler demon.
"Who is the girl?" asked the great shade.
"The last of the Betrayer's kind, Master of Agony."
"Ah," the demon stepped forward to reveal himself. Davita imagined him only to be about Maiev's height, but his muscular body could be thrice the breadth of hers. His skin glowed with a strange metallic tint, and in place of arms were sharp bladed wings. His eyes had a sickly white sparkle to them as he studied Davita with intended interest.
The huntress was almost certain that she heard wrongly, "What do you mean the Betrayer's kind?"
"You are a Night Elf, are you not?" the Master of Agony moved across the room with amazing speed. He was now standing right in front of Davita. " Illidan Stormrage destroyed our Lord Magtheridon. For that, he and his people will pay."
"Wait! We Night Elves were sent here to hunt Illidan down. We are in no way on his side," Davita meant to argue, but in face of a demon with great powers, the words just would not form.
"It doesn't matter," the Master of Agony raised a bladed arm, ready to strike her on her head. "We shall rid Outland of his race and all his servitors."
"No!" the huntress screamed. "Back away from me! I command you in Elune's holy name!"
The demon's blow did not come. He merely laughed a mirthless laugh, "Your deity has no jurisdiction in this place, little elf. In this dimension, I am your god and you shall beg for my mercy."
"There is no god I know of who would torture mortals so cruelly," Davita took the opportunity to slip behind him--but she knew that there were far too many demons in the hall for her to escape. Yet the merciless insult the bladed demon gave her Goddess and her faith angered her enough to shroud her fears of him, "You are a demon, nothing more. You shall govern over nothing."
There were a few gasps from the guards.
"Bold words," the Master of Agony raised a brow as he turned around to face her. "I admire your courage, little one."
"You sick demon bastard," she moved away from him, still holding her round blade in front of her. A few demon guards attempted to come forth and hold her captive, but the Master waved them away.
"I admire your determination as well." With one click of his fingers, the round blade seared with intense heat. Davita had to drop it, and watch as the Master recast it into the shape of a curled ribbon. He pointed, and the blazing blade flew towards the Night Elf and stepped her on the shoulder joint. She stumbled backwards from the pain...but as it passed, she realized something else--that new flesh had started to grow immediately around that blade, and she could control it like a new limb.
A new limb indeed.
She choked on her surprise, "What are you doing to me?"
"I am going to kill you slowly," he replied with a menacing smirk.
-
Positioned like predator and prey, the Master of Agony and Davita moved about each other in circles. This was a match with an all too obvious result. Davita would die, and the Master was to emerge victor. With a scornful voice, he asked, "When you came inside, didn't I hear you threaten my servitors for the release of this pathetic wreck?" The 'wreck' he referred to was Maiev.
"You did," Davita hissed, letting her rage shine through. "Her name is Maiev Shadowsong, and she is not some pathetic wreck."
"The same to me," the Master waved a hand in dismissal. "She will be nothing when I am done with her anyhow. But what would you give in exchange for her freedom? She must be someone important to you for you to have come so far to her rescue."
It was impossible to tell what he was implying--she had to be cautious with her words. What could she give for Maiev's freedom indeed! She had nothing left save her life and her soul, and even though she knew she would lose both of them anyhow, it was hardly comfortable to say it.
"She is my leader and my only friend," she replied carefully. "I'd do anything to see her free."
"Your leader, you say?" the Master said over scornful screeches of demon laughter. "She is no more than a feeble loser. We overwhelmed her much too easily."
"She is sick, don't you see? She is not weak," Davita cried. Could anyone be more merciless than demons at all?
"A sick leader deserves to be cast aside," the Master motioned for one of his minions to come forth--a doom guard with a long, heavy blade in his grip. He approached Maiev who was not even able to struggle.
"No!" Davita chose between throwing herself over Maiev and attacking the Master of Agony. Horror and hatred pushed her towards the latter. She pounded his chest furiously with her fists, but they were useless against such a strong demon. She moved her third blade arm--his gift to her, but he blocked her attack with a swipe of his sword wings.
Too late.
He opened a deep crimson wound in her chest.
She barely even knew pain as she toppled over lifelessly, feeling her own blood pulse away from her body. As she began to lose consciousness, the last thing she remembered seeing was the doom guard removing Maiev's head.
-
"She knows what she wants."
"But do you?"
Somehow, she knew the voice that spoke to her in her dreamless sleep was the same as that she heard while she was consuming the corpse of the felhound--the one that called her an 'eater of demons' and hypnotized her. It was the same voice that made her lose Maiev and the same voice that belonged to the Master of Agony.
Somehow she knew she should have been dead, but she slowly regained consciousness and found herself half buried in crimson sand.
Somehow, she found her body much too heavy for her to move--it was as though her whole being was coated in heavy armour.
"She is not sick."
"You are."
Managing to finally twist her body over, she vomited onto the ground. Whatever that had been in her stomach was green and bubbling. At the sight of the fluids, she retched up something more until she felt hollow inside.
But a strange feeling struck her.
She did not feel quite like herself.
Who was she anyway?
She looked inside herself and heard two pulses beating--she had two hearts. She searched in her mind and found two sets of memories.
And two sets of loathing for the demon called the Master of Agony.
But who was she?
She/they promised the Master of Agony nothing, but only said that they would try and hunt Illidan Stormrage down.
But in their minds, they were planning their perfect escape. Together, they would find a way to open up a portal and force their way back to Ashenvale.
Back home.
They would never return.
And if ever they did, the Master of Agony could be expecting his own end soon...
-
J A/N:
If you haven't looked at my drawing yet, don't. You wouldn't like it anyway. Wanna bet?
Ahhh I've almost fallen to page 2 on the FF Warcraft page!! Look at all those updates and new stories!! I've tried to write quicker, but obviously didn't succeed. Sorry about truncating this chapter again...there's supposed to be something more, but I thought it would make this chapter ultra long. But I've got half of it written up, so I think I will be updated pretty soon...and this time I mean it.
Saw the short story contest on SE. Good luck with it, Eternity, Forever Jake and QotH!! I wish I could vote for all three of you!!
Demongod: Maiev couldn't really fit into anything else other than a Night Elf since she kind of hated everybody else who are non-Night Elvish--example: she's not in the least bit sympathetic to Drak'thul which bothered me a little when I first played the game. Her leaving Tyrande to die and lying to Furion had totally, totally turned her into a character I despise--but she, by all means, is a very powerful character that Blizz invented. It seems unfair that nobody ever mentioned what happened to her after Illi left Outland. And there's nothing wrong with IllxMai at all, and it's twisted, hey. But it's just been done for a couple times and I want to write something different. Anyway, the vile tormentors in the last chapter were super vile tormentors controlled by some forces of evil--they're different. Illidan could have used some of his super demon strength or metamorph to kill them all, but your guess is correct. He didn't, because that would give out his identity. Nope. This fic will not only be Sylv's flashbacks. You'll see. And I saw your story, though unfortunately I'm not familiar with Soul Calibur. I'll try to read it.
Queen of the Harpies: Thanks. RG's Illi x Vashj really freaked me the author out as well, and I think that's when I kind of started to like Illi. Everyone likes him better when he's coolly evil. Ah, thank you about the battle scene. I really did try, but battle scenes can get hopelessly boring after writing WarCraft fics for 2 years. (Sigh) Maybe I shouldn't complain and just come up with something more interesting. (Tries to close mouth unsuccessfully and something green and slimy leaks out) You know, the story titled 'Test of the Princes' that I've been talking about but haven't uploaded yet is supposed to reveal another side in Syl before she became RG of Silvermoon, and I'll be hoping to surprise a couple people with it. (Closes mouth). Thanks for your support anyway, and thanks for liking SylxIll when no one else seems to be enthusiastic about it.
GG Crono 4: Haha. You're absolutely right. But just keep in mind there is always a bigger fish.
Tom: Thanks for your support.
Arthus: Thanks.
Crimson Paladin: Hey. I hope this chapter answered your questions about the vile tormentors. Thanks for your support.
Inaam07: Hey. Thanks. Leprecha definitely HAS to appear soon cuz she's the main character. Shouldn't let the Black Warden steal the show! I sense a good fight between Nerz and Syl in W.O.W., and I'm actually dying to know who will eventually emerge victor. Wouldn't it crappy if the end result varies depending on which side you're on when you're playing W.O.W.? Wouldn't it suck even more if neither of them won? Arthas...Illidan's newest slave. Good. Go for it!!
Rowan Seven: Thanks. I certainly need some luck. I don't think I'll be doing anything else particularly drastic to the Horde in the rest of this story or I'm quite certain someone would assassinate me. I'm watching out for that.