Progression


Ketala, Kel'Thuzad, Eldiaren, Spell Breaker, Thrash

Ketala found the Litch sitting in his seat in the planning room. He was soaked from head to hip (he had nothing lower then his hips) in trolls blood potions and a whispery crumbling sound came from him as each tiny movement sent portions of his ribcage to ash heaps on the ground.

"Guardian?" she inquired instantly. He looked at her wearily, one of his tusks half missing. "Will you be alright?" He bared his teeth, a sign which Ketala had come to recognize as 'pleased.'

"In time," he said emotionlessly. "But do not attempt to touch or, as you are so irritatingly prone to do, hug me." Ketala looked at the ground, nodding in obedience.

"Do you desire me not to hug you again, ever, Guardian?" He bared his teeth a bit more, tilting his back and looking at her a long moment.

"Do you desire to hug me, Ketala?"

"Yes, Guardian."

"Then never hug me again."

"Yes, Guardian," she said with some reluctance. His glowing eyes narrowed.

"You hesitate?"

"No, Guardian." He eyed her darkly, slowly standing up.

"And now you lie."

"No, Guardian. I did not hesitate. I am eternally obedient. I merely dislike not doing something I like." His eyes flamed blue. He had been a fool for thinking he could keep her mind intact. She was too human. She had WILL! A will of her own!

"Come here, Ketala," he said in a low voice. She obeyed instantly, coming up to him. He glared down at her as if she were the most disgusting thing he had ever come across. "It seems I've still been too lenient." He lifted a clawed, burnt hand, reaching forward and gripping the top of her head painfully. Then he produced an acolyte sacrificial dagger. Remove all traces of the brain- remove her will and her mind. Ketala lifted her eyes slightly.

"Guardian?" He snarled bitterly to himself, but decided to let her get a last word in.

"What is it?"

"Please don't hurt me." He paused, arching a skeletal brow. Well. That was odd. He'd never heard her protest before, not even when he'd killed her. His curiosity perked, he decided to question her. He had all the time in the world.

"You weren't afraid when I killed you. Why do you protest now?"

"You told me you'd still be with me after I was undead. So I did not fear. I would be with my Guardian."

"You aren't going anywhere."

"But with no mind, I won't remember you…" her naïve logic made him stare at her. If he hadn't known how bright the girl was, he'd believe she was purely stupid by the way she phrased that statement.

It was in that moment, that moment when all of fate builds up around a person in a dramatic whole, that the randomness of free will produced an amazing breakthrough. It was in that moment that Kel'Thuzad finally understood the yearning inside him. The emptiness. Because he suddenly saw the same emptiness in her. She was unable to form the emotion she desired to express at the current moment. The result was that her mind picked the closes excuse it could find to that emotion. The closets excuse it could come up with was, "I won't remember you." She meant, "I wouldn't love you anymore." At a complete and entire loss, Kel'Thuzad stared down at the child he had destroyed.

He understood the emptiness. The emptiness overwhelmed him now, confirming his understanding. The shocking numbness, and lack of feeling. He had no excuses because he no longer wanted anything but power. So whenever he wanted to express an emotion, he could call forth no excuse- just emptiness. Pure nostalgia for the emotion he wanted to feel.

Kel'Thuzad stared mutely down at the young girl, watching her lift her arms- shaking from disobedience- and slowly wrap them around his midsection, hugging him. He was silent a long, long moment. The best he could do was, "A pity you are not fit for death paladin… That I cannot keep you from being entirely undead." No heartbeat- no gently thrumming that he had grown so used to… She was so cold… so cold when once she had been so warm..

"Guardian…"

"I am weak now… Go free…" He leant back, looking at her confused expression. "Go free... please… I cannot stop you…"

"But Guardian-!"

"Go FREE!" he forced out. "This existence… You should not bear this! Go FREE!" He looked at her, 'saddened' by giving her up. "For me… Go for me… As I cannot." She stared up at him, eyes wide, motionless. "Go. And do not heed my call after you depart."

"… I love you, Guardian. I will see you free!" She turned, dashing to the door. And then she paused, looking back at him.

"GO!"

"I love you, Guardian," she repeated softly. "Parent," She amended suddenly, and then dashed off.

If only Kel'Thuzad had understood…

He had won. He had beat the Litch King, the Burning Legion, his cursed undead form, and, finally, the darkness with himself. He had one. Now the tiniest portion of him was free…

And she was free.

He didn't understand. He clutched himself the best he could, sick with nostalgia, fullness, emptiness, and so many other conflicting forces. Had he been Human, he might have cried. But he was not. He would never again be Human.

Still, he had won. That, alone, was a victory greater than anyone could have imagined.

Ketala dashed out of the tent, coming up beside Thrash. She didn't give the cat a moment to think, pulling herself up onto its back. Her empathy urged him onward as she gave a gentle nudge to his side with her toes. Eagerly, he obeyed, dashing forward. Ketala's mind gave a pause as another being sensed her departure with ease.

Eldiaren she murmured. Come Eldiaren, come with me. The ghoul needed no further urging, dashing up to her side and bounding alongside the cat. The three escapees sprinted away, rushing away from the undead camp as fast as their feet could carry them.

Ketala sat beneath a willow tree during the light rain. Eldiaren was using her mental instructions to build a small fire as she scratched out on a piece of bark the symbol she had seen on the dying elf's tabard- the symbol of the Silver Hand. It was the only link she had now to the rest of the world. She would have to seek out this Silver Hand, or at least set that as her goal until she came across a more reasonable course of action. She had no other way to go. Gently, Ketala reached over, scratching the sleeping Thrash behind his ears. Then she set the piece of bark down and sighed, looking over at Eldiaren. The fire was ablaze, its gentle warmth washing over the two undead and the massive cat.

Come, Eldiaren. She murmured. He obeyed, crawling up to her and curling up against her as she smiled, laying a hand on his deformed, domed forehead and stroking his decaying hair gently. Thank you, Eldiaren. We will rest here until Thrash is rejuvenated. The ghoul clicked his teeth together and nuzzled against her. Ketala's smile broadened as she tousled his hair gently. Thrash… Eldiaren… you are my best friends… my only friends in the world… I love you both. She gently touched her lips to the decayed flesh of the ghoul's forehead and then closed her eyes, listening to the raindrops around her, and to Thrash's gentle breathing.

The Litch King was not one to so easily give up his prize. Ketala stirred, looking around. She smelled more undead… she smelled mortals… blood and death… "Thhrasssh," she grunted out, shaking the cat. Instantaneously, the mount was up, sniffing the air as well. He growled, looking over at her as she and Eldiaren stood. "Batttlle… We can ssstop Arthass (Pun not quite intended) from following usss… And maybe there will be humanssss to point out which way we ssshhould go…" Thrash gave a grunt of approval and Ketala pulled herself up onto the massive cat's shoulders, sending him forward with a gentle tap to the ribs. The cat stretched and then jumped into a run, speeding off, with the ghoul following close behind.

It did not take them long to find battle. Huge abominations plowed through the lines of simple warriors. They were a 'small scouting' detachment, designed to locate her and destroy her. Either that, or Arthas was severely irritated with this particular group of humans. There were a few elves, mostly arcane priests, and there were two spell breakers, one of which had just been thrown to the ground, his blade hurled too far away for him to retrieve it. A cleaver hacked down at him… and none of his comrades could help him. There was a shriek-like roar as a massive black creature pounced on the abomination's back, ripping open its rotten, dead flesh. A figure with two glowing blades, one with light and the other with flame, stood between him and the abomination. She whirled, as graceful as any demonhunter or orc blademaster, plunging the scimitars through the abomination. She severed stitches, sending half of its innards flooding out one side. Another slash removed one of its arms. The cat jumped from its head as the abomination began to crumble. With a final sweep of the blade of light, the figure sliced off the monsters head and charred it so that it would not rise again.

The Spell Breaker stared up at her in pain, confusion, and awe. His mind was reeling with the raw arcane power he felt flooding from her. Elemental energies streamed out of her and her blades, and he shuddered violently, watching her turn around and look at him. Her hair was limp and straight, her eyes a mixture of whirling colors. And her skin was the pale white color of a corpse.

"Light help us," he gasped out, staring up at her, unable to move in his awe. She tilted her head to the side and then crouched lightly, looking around. Her eyes blazed white and red and she screamed, charging forward, her blades cleaving into her next opponent, rending that abomination to shredded bits from behind. She struck again and again and again, at any undead flesh before her, and then halted at a massive green abomination before her. Her mind was too far gone to recognize that she could 'control' this being with her aura. All her mind radiated was the lust to kill, to destroy this evil and save that elf… And then her eyes widened. There, in the creature's decayed, meaty fist, was the limp body of a ghoul.

"ELDIAREN!" He lifted his head, looking at her weakly. In her rage, she had not felt his pain or his need, and she watched helplessly as the abomination took the ghoul's head between two fingers and popped it off like the flower of a dandelion. She was hit by a wave of such overwhelming pain, such overwhelming loss, that she screamed, brutally charging at the Abomination.

"MAGNA!" she cried out in anguish, feeling the scimitars flood with her power, blazing even more intensely. They rended through the abomination's unholy flesh as the monstrous beast went up in white and red flames, bellowing loudly before crumbling into a heap of innards and ash. Its head moved to look at her, just in time to see a spell breaker slice one of his massive tri-blades at her head. Then the abomination died.

And to the Litch King's knowledge, his new weapon was dead.

What the Litch King did not see was a second spell breaker block the blow. Both blood elves looked at each other in some confusion, and then watched the oblivious undead stumble over to the ghoul's body and collapse to her knees. She quivered, shifting through the mass of abomination flesh until she found Eldiaren's head. Like the body, it was twitching lightly. It quivered lightly and one of its hands reached out, gently touching her face.

"Ketttt," it hissed out, before undeath left it, and it became just another corpse. Ketala looked down at the broken creature that had once been her pride and joy, and she shuddered, dropping the head.

"… Eldiaren…" she murmured brokenly. "Natura…" she said slowly, and her blades returned to normal, slowly finding their sheaths at her sides. After a moment, she turned her head, looking up as Thrash came up to her. She smiled weakly and stood, putting her arms around the cat's neck and hugging it. She sighed and then pulled back, looking at the two confused spell breakers. She was silent a long, long moment, and then, very quietly, said, "Hello…" Both just stared at her like she was a three-headed rabbit, a gnome who'd bridged 3 feet in height, or a toothbrush; for she was defiantly something out of the ordinary.

Ketala stared back a moment and then released the cat, coming up toward them. One of the elves backed up, but the other, the one she had saved, staid there, looking at her curiously. She made a weak attempt at a smile, trying to make sure she didn't look too grotesque.

"My name…" she said after a moment, "is Ketala Fiheriae…" The elf docked his head to the side.

"You speak Common?" She nodded, smiling lightly.

"Not perfectly… but yess… Who are you?" The SpellBreaker looked at her uncertainly a moment.

"Therian Firewalker."

"It isss… niccce to meet you," she said softly. She looked to the side, watching her feline mount come up beside her. "Thisss iss Thrasssh. He is my warmount." The Spell Breaker blinked.

"Your mount? Where are you from?" She hesitated a moment, pondering his question.

"Good quessstion. I have had Thrassssh for many years. Asss far back asss I can remember… Sssinccce I was a toddler."

"How old are you now?" he asked slowly, his brows moving together in confusion.

"Sssixxx mortal yearsss," She murmured softly, and he stared at her. "I wasss raisssed by undead… Then they made me undead… Now I am free…Eldiaren wasss almossst free… Now he isss dead." She looked slowly at the ground, uncertain of what else to say.

"What are you that you can develop so quickly?" he asked slowly.

"The litch who raisssed me… Told me that I wasss… half elemental…" Therian swallowed, nodding to himself. That would explain her overwhelming arcane energy when she was wielding her scimitars… and her whirling eyes.

"That ghoul… you called him Eldiaren? Was he an elf… in life…?"

"Half elf," She murmured sadly. "From what I could gather from his dead mind. I was trying to make him free like me."

"And why are you free?"

"Destroying my mind would have made me lessss powerful… lessss effective." She said, lifting her eyes and looking at him. "So I am free… from the litch king'sss control… I ran…"

"Don't believe her!" snapped a priest, coming up beside them. "She's an undead! Look at her- this could just be a trick by Arthas!" Ketala lowered her head, looking silently at the ground.

"I don't know, Errithe," Therian said slowly. "She saved my life. She just killed all these abominations- we'd be dead without her!"

"SHE IS UNDEAD! How can you even think of trusting it- look at what it is! Our enemy! It even admitted to being raised by a litch!"

"Please-" Ketala interrupted. Both of them blinked, looking straight at her. "Please, I'm just trying to get away… I have no clue as to where to go. I came to this battle because I knew there would be living people here… people who might be able to tell me what I should do…" she said, rather weakly. Both elves looked at each other and then back at her.

"What do you want…?" Therian asked gently. She hesitated a moment and then slowly pulled the peeled piece of smooth bark from her cloak.

"I don't know. All I know about the world, I learned from undead preaching about the glory of the Litch King… and from a dying elf. He wore this sssymbol." She offered the bark forward, showing the unmistakable symbol. The priest saw it and his eyes narrowed, by the Spell Breaker's eyes widened and he looked at her.

"Do you know what that symbol is of?" Ketala shrugged lightly.

"He told me it was an order of Paladinsss and Priessstsss. The litch spoke out against sssuch beingsss as our enemiesss. I thought if I sssought to abandon the Ssscourge, perhapsss this would be a way to ssstart…" She looked down at the symbol and Therian smiled sadly at her. The poor naïve creature… Yes, the Silver Hand was most certainly against demon and Scourge alike… but they would slay her before ever taking a second look at her. "I don't know where to go or what to do… only that I need to get away from the Ssscourge…Pleassse, can you help me?" She looked pitifully up at him, her whirling eyes turning a pastel bluish color. Therian looked at her a long moment, thoughtful. Bitter recollections crossed his mind of the Scourge destruction of Quel'thalas.

"… I… owe you for saving my life…" he said after a long moment. Errithe looked at him alarmed.

"You're not seriously considering letting this monster live- are you!"

"Quiet, Errithe! She saved your life too!" He glared the priest silent for a moment and then looked back at Ketala.

"Our party is traveling to a small village near Stormwind. Would you come with us?" Ketala grinned. Somehow, she had escaped decay. The only thing distressing about her smile is that her lips were chapped and dry, and bled ever so lightly. He did not wince, lifting a hand and offering it to her to shake. Ketala blinked, looking from him to his hand. He eyed her a moment, and then supplied, "It's a handshake, a symbol of friendship, or acknowledgement." Ketala eyed him a long moment and then lifted a gloved hand, taking his. Even her armor was cold, and it made his hair stand on end, but her smile was warm and filled with life.

"Thank you. I will not disssappoint you, I promissse."


Illidan, Zul'vii

Kaelthalas watched the two powerful beings in some measure of awe. The cold winter had forced them to move south once again, and Illidan and Zul'vii walked side by side. They traded insults and occasionally fingered their weapons. Both were tense, and quite aware that if tensions escalated any more, they were probably both going to die. Both kept their tempers under control, and both were inseparable from one another. They were an omnipresent pair, neither one leaving the other for longer then a minute. They always returned together, almost subconsciously, and continued bickering. And oh they seemed to loathe one another. Zul'vii would often just be sarcastic or mean, and Illidan would outright threaten to kill her, every fibre in his being quivering with hatred and rage.

His feet and hands free from bandages at last, Illidan was back to a semblance of his former glory, his hooves leaving smoking tracks in the snow behind him. But he retained the enchanted robe, and the thick bandages across his chest.

And then a strange phenomenon would happen, right in the middle of the walk. Illidan would shudder, touching the void in his chest. Immediately, everyone would stop, and Zul'vii would gently flood healing Life into him until he relaxed. Then they would start walking again, and refrain from bickering for around a half an hour. It was an awkward thing, both of them so obviously hating one another, and yet both backing off as soon as Illidan needed any type of help. Zul'vii would heal him immediately, with no qualms or side comments, and Illidan would refrain from provoking her again until around a half hour to forty five minutes later. Even at night, the two did not disperse for long. Most of the time, she managed to convince Illidan to rest, and she would sleep quietly with her head resting on her arms beside him, present in case he had any need of her healing aid. If she did not succeed in persuading him to go to bed, he would meditate, and she would still remain at his side- never complaining.

Vashj analyzed the relationship best. They only tolerated each other when they had something besides how much they hated each other to think about. As soon as they were confronted with a problem, they immediately turned their attention to it. As soon as they were bored, they went back to hating one another.

It was not any type of love or begrudging comradeship like the bond between Myev and Zul'jin had been. This was pure loathing when Illidan was well, and pure, silent, unemotional friendship whenever there was a problem.

Zul'vii sat next to Illidan, watching him meditate. Not that she could tell if he really did meditate or not. It wasn't like he'd open his eyes if he was awake. She observed him silently a long moment, thinking about the walk tomorrow. They'd have to move for fourteen hours straight… but they would finally reach their destination. She crossed her arms, looking down at the floor, still and quiet. Then, slowly, she looked back up at Illidan, and lifting her hands, slowly touching the back of the bandana he wore around his eyes. He didn't even stir, too deep into his own mind. Gently, she untied the bandana, and pulled it down from his ruined eyes. Both had been burned shut, and there was no evidence to whether or not the eyes behind them had been gouged out or not. She was a healer at heart. The scars Illidan bore were not only from Frostmourne's blade. Most of them weren't even external. But any kind of pain or wounding made her pity, and she lifted a hand, gently stroking over the wounded tissue of his right eye. Immediately, one of his hands shot to her wrist, pulling her hand away.

Illidan looked straight at her, blind only to color and shape. His upper lip curled in disgust and contempt. He did not want her pity. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I've never seen a demonhunter before. I was wondering, do you gouge your eyes out or only burn them shut?" He looked at her dangerously a moment and then let go of her hand.

"We only burn them shut," he said icily. She nodded, lowering her hand and offering him his bandana. He snorted and took it, binding it again around his eyes. The movement caused the muscles and wounded tissue in his chest to stretch and he winced. Zul'vii immediately lifted a hand to the wound, soothing his pain, and he sighed softly, looking over at her.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she asked softly, gently peeling back some of the bandage to get directly at the wound. He tilted his head to the side, clawed fingers tapping lightly on the ground.

"Don't pity me," he said after a moment.

"That's not the only reason, is it? You enjoyed killing me back in that forest. Not satisfaction- you enjoyed it. Like I was just another demon in your way." He said nothing, watching her as she tended to the wound. Then, something occurred to him. He lifted a hand feeling only air. His hand moved to his hairline and he felt two stubs.

"My horns…"

"Oh yes, sorry. They were both frostbitten, so cutting them off didn't cause any blood loss. You lost them back when we rescued you from IceCrown." He looked at her dangerously. "They were very cumbersome and giving you severe migraines, so don't look at me like that. Besides, I can always help you regenerate them when you're fully recovered from this," She touched the wound in his chest, causing him to hiss out his pain. Then she grinned. "Plus it's not like you needed them. Didn't your head ever get heavy?" He bristled, hands clenching, but a shot of Life energy pacified him. "You never answered my question."

"I don't know why I hate you," he responded wearily. "I only know that you are the most annoying creature I have ever had the misfortune to come across." She smiled genuinely, and then tilted her head to the side.

"When you don't need my help any more, will you try to kill me again?" He paused, looking directly at her.

"Don't make me want to," he said slowly, darkly, and he looked back at the floor and went back to silent brooding.

"You should sleep again, Illidan. It's a fourteen hour walk tomorrow." He snorted and looked over at the child that was his savior. She regarded him with true concern, and thus he forced his bitter thoughts away. Left with no hatred, he determined that she was right- he needed to sleep. He could never walk for fourteen hours straight without a good rest. He nodded, and she let go of him as he stood up slowly and walked to his tent. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her a moment, silent, watching her get up and follow him. She was a child. Just a child. Not a demon. He forced himself to think that way, his mind numbing, and the drifted to his bed and collapsed, sighing mentally to himself, his thoughts drifting off to his beloved Tyrande.

He woke up in the morning to find his hair brushed out to a silky smoothness it had not held for ten thousand years. He grumbled to himself about women, feeling beaded, elfin style braids in it, along with his customary top knot. Oh, he hated that ruddy girl.


Varimathras, Kadre, Sylvanis

Varimathras seethed with hatred and jealousy, watching from his perch above the Lordaeron ruins. He was forbidden from leaving the Undercity, but he was at the point of boredom where he would defy any barrier for action. Kadre followed Sylvanis near everywhere, helping her orchestrate defensive plans for the Forsaken's borders, and for the Undercity itself. He gave her advice on upcoming battles, and delivered her reports of recent undead attacks on the humans lands- helping her pinpoint where to attack to gain the maximum benefit against the Scourge.

In essence, he had entirely replaced the dreadlord. Varimathras could be doing any number of things. Sylvanis had given him free reign of the city. He could be in the apothecarium right now, rapidly draining every living being he came into contact with. But no. He was out here, glaring down at his replacement with vile hatred, watching him speak with Sylvanis like an equal- as if such a petty mortal could possibly equal the power of his Dark Lady! A wave of jealousy shot through him, causing him to shudder. Sylvanis had been lax in her treatment of Varimathras- but for how long? She had replaced him with someone she was sure would be loyal to the cause of defeating the Scourge. Soon, Varimathras would be a liability- a needless problem. That could not happen! She would kill him if he had no value to her. But there was more. There was a deep, instinctive, horrid jealousy coupling with his hatred of Kadre. The same jealousy that caused Sylvanis to ruthless bash a Succubus's head to a pulp against a wall. That place at Sylvanis's side, as her chief advisor and majordomo was his! It did not belong to some petty Human! His pride jumped into the fray and increased his anger 10 fold. A Human! A Human had replaced him! He watched Sylvanis nod to Kadre, sending him back to the Argent Dawn encampment, and then walk off. Seething with pure loathing, Varimathras followed the Human…

And stopped at a small cave not far from the Argent Dawn. Kadre looked around, evidently assuring himself that he was alone. Then he called out a name. Bewildered, Varimathras pushed back his own, furious brooding to listen. Another man came up to Kadre, this one evidently another paladin.

"The plan is working," Kadre said in a soft whisper. "Sylvanis suspects nothing. Once we have finished with the Scourge, her defenses in the rear, toward human lands, will be permeable enough for us to launch a full scale attack on these lands… and finally rid this world of the undead curse!" The demon almost laughed, his power flooding through his veins like wildfire, fueled by his hatred, consuming his mind. More words were exchanged, but he heard nothing, calling down an infernal…

The massive infernal plummeted down, blowing Kadre and the other paladin several feet away. Then the infernal opened up and lumbered at the paladin, slamming him brutally into a tree. Delighted, Varimathras glided down to the ground, watching the infernal weaken and exhaust the two paladins. When he smelled the last bits of mana and strength leak out of the Argent Dawn Leader, Varimathras moved, gripping him around the throat with one arm, and shoving through a soft spot in his armor plan with several claws. Kadre cried out, writhing, and then looked up in horror at Varimathras's face. The dreadlord smiled cruelly, and then bit hard into the Argent Dawn Leader's throat and jaw, ripping into his jugular and sucking the light-tainted blood from within. Oh, perhaps the vile liquid would make him sick later, but it was well worth the satisfaction of hearing the man's death scream, choke, and dying gurgle. When he had drained Kadre dry of blood, he dropped the paladin's limp body and gave a high pitched, reverberating roar. The infernal faded into nothing, and Varimathras smiled, looking over at the other, semi-conscious paladin.

And then the Dreadlord was surprised by a black shaft burrowing into his collar bone. He shrieked, gripping the barbed arrow and brutally ripping it from his shoulder. He was hit by two more, twin banshee rangers rushing at him. Behind them was Sylvanis. Her hand flared, and a thick, energy draining beam sprung from him to her, draining him of life and energy. He bit off his scream, not resisting as the Banshee's roughly jerked him to his knees, binding his arms behind him, and looking up at Sylvanis pleadingly.

The Banshee queen just sighed, tilting her head to the side. "Varimathras… you're disappointing me." He swallowed weakly, feeling the arrow's poison seeping into his veins.

"M-my lady-" he rushed out.

"SILENCE!" she shrieked, her shrill banshee scream echoing lightly. An arrow skimmed across his shoulder, ripping it open, and just missing one of the banshee's that held him. "You are not even in the position to beg! Silence your tongue, demon!" Varimathras shuddered and lowered his head, all lust for vengeance and blood gone, leaving him hollow and helpless. She glared at him a moment more and then turned her gaze back to her two loyal servants. "Bring him back to the Royal Quarter. Now." With identical, 'Yes Dark Lady's, they wrenched Varimathras to his feet and dragged him back to the Undercity.

Sylvanis had teleported to the Undercity ahead of her guards, and the two banshees dragged him before her as she sat on her outer dais, smiling down at him. Varimathras just hung limply, staring down at her feet.

"Release him," she said, amused. The two banshees obeyed, letting go of his arms and he collapsed to a sprawling sitting position. "Leave." They bowed and obeyed, turning and exiting, closing two massive doors behind them. Slowly, Varimathras braced his hands against the ground in front of him, silent, almost looking like he was offering himself to be punished. Still, Sylvanis was silent, faintly radiating amusement. She dropped to the ground after a moment, and came up to him slowly, examining the thick gash she had put earlier in his shoulder with one arrow, and the hole she had made with the other.

"You did not resist my banshee's much, I see," she said slowly, savoring his discomfort.

"Resistance would accomplish nothing… I was in the wrong." Sylvanis laughed darkly, stroking his shoulder like she was soothing a favorite pet. And then she latched her fingers into the wound tissue, yanking downward. He did not give her the satisfaction of hearing him scream, nor did he anger her with silence. He simply groaned, gripping the ground tightly. "Forgive me…" he murmured weakly.

"What? You don't protest?"

"Nothing I can say can soothe you… just anger you worse… Please forgive me… IT is all that I can think to ask…" Her hand moved from the wound, and she stroked gently over his wing arm.

"Poor, poor Varimathras… But you know, I must treat you as I promised. You quarreled with the Argent Dawn… and you left the city… If I don't discipline you, my word means nothing. Besides, I am no liar. I would enjoy your screams.

"Please, my Lady… Forgive me… Spare me from death if not from pain…"

"I need a majordomo." She said, gently caressing his cheek and pointed ear. "Now, Varimathras, what is the story behind this? What made you disobey me?" Varimathras swallowed, quickly throwing out any idea of lying. Sylvanis knew his thoughts. If he lied to her, she would know, and she would be furious. "Initially… my own… jealousy…and hatred… But I found Kadre… plotting against you… That is why I stayed out- to kill him." Sylvanis paused in her gentle caresses.

"Jealousy? Always the best for you, ah? What did I tell you about serving me first and your own pleasure later?"

"He was but a Human- he… he replaced me…"

"A very valuable Human, Varimathras. Keeping him at my side kept the Humans at peace with us long enough to attack the undead. Do you truly think I didn't know he plotted against me? I'm appalled Varimathras- do you really think me that stupid?" His pointed ears and shoulders drooped farther.

"No… my Lady… I was blinded by hatred," he said weakly, lowering his head even further.

"Why do you think I had you work on defense plans for so long? Kadre would give me tips on upgrading out defenses, and I would simply put your plans to work, not his." Varimathras winced. So he hadn't been replaced at all- it had merely been a façade. He was sorely in error… Sylvanis had worked all this out… and he had crumbled it… "Still, you did me one favor. You showed me that he was not the only one of this Argent Dawn detachment that was plotting against me. I now know exactly who to watch out for, and I will be able to keep the Argent Dawn detachment here." He lifted his ice-cold eyes a bit, hopefully. Perhaps… Perhaps Sylvanis was not so angry with him…?

"Tell me, Varimathras," she asked after a moment. "Did you enjoy that succubus's company?" He froze up, and then, weakly, said, 'yes.'

Varimathras was unconscious, and Sylvanis was knelt by his side, slowly stroking his tortured frame.

"Poor, poor Varimathras…" she murmured, the memory of his shrieks of agony in her thoughts. "You made a misjudgment- a very… grave… mistake. But no harm done… save unto you. Be glad for that, or your torment would be far worse." Slowly, her head tilted to the side. One of her hands was wrapped in bandage wrap to disguise the missing finger and ease the pressure between her palm and her bow. The other hand gently traced the black haunty tissue around his eye, and she looked down at him with sympathy. Then, slowly, tenderly, she moved her arms around the demon and pulled him gently against her.

"My poor Varimathras… Never disappoint me. Never disobey me." Then she took some salve and bandage tape, dressing and bandaging the thickest of wounds that had been inflicted on him. When she finished, she looked down at him with some disgust, as if she had used all her reserve of 'nice' to finish the bandaging. Then her hand move again, gently slipping into his and brushing the side of his pointer finger. He twitched lightly, his fingers molding lightly to hers. He gave a small convulsion, and then emitted a weak, pathetic purr. Immediately, Sylvanis leaned to the side, touching her cheek to his chest and felt the purr rumble through him. She was as pathetic as he was in that moment, craving and treasuring that small, tiny signal of real affection. It was the only real comfort she had. Nothing else around her could offer even such a tiny symbol of care. The undead worshiped and followed her with reverence- not love.

The powerful, undead ranger was reduced to a creature as alone as Illidan, as helpless as Kel'Thuzad, and as pathetic as Keever. There was no spirit to save her. No guardian angel was there to save her soul. Quite the opposite, really. Her only savior was a demon she longed to destroy, and entirely distrusted. The only thing she had was demon whose soul was even more damned then hers was. But he was loyal out of need. And he could radiate some small amount of like for her presence- as he did with that purr- as he did when he confessed that he'd been jealous of Kadre. Nothing else did that. Half dead at her hands, he purred in pleasure at her presence. She stood and left, returning with more healing potions and more appropriate bandages, and redressed his wounds far more properly.

His screams had pleased her.

For the moment that satisfaction lasted.

And then she was alone.

His purr had pleased her. She opened the window beside his bed, looking up at the night sky. There were stars up there… Stars her undead eyes still remembered from Quel'thalas. Then she cradled the broken demon, and unwrapped her injured hand. The troll's blood potion had regenerated her finger up to the first joint… One more… that's all she needed. It just had to reach the next joint, and even if it stopped healing there she would be able to bend her fingers properly, and she could use a replacement to continue the length of her finger. Just one more joint and she would be able to hold an arrow with that hand again. And if that didn't work, the apothecaries could always amputate a finger from an elfin corpse and try to get it to bond properly with her hand, so she could use it as if it were her own. Thing were not as hopeless as they seemed.


Mahi Mahi, Tyrande, Keever

Mahi had polymorphed again. She was currently a bear, and was happily chasing around butterflies. Keever just watched her, perplexed, as Tyrande smiled.

"She's a strange one, isn't she?" the priestess remarked. Keever nodded.

"Very strange. She's so peaceful- she is supposed to save the world?"

"Yes," Tyrande said, her mind drifting off to what Mahi represented- all the life in this world… The life and strength of everything… Of the very forest they stood in… Suddenly Mahi paused, staring down at a terrified toad. She tilted her furry head to the side, looking down at it, as it peed on the ground below it. Its heart yammered uncontrollably as Mahi smiled, turning back into her humanoid form and sat down, picking up the toad. Tyrande blinked, turning her attention back to the amphibian. Her eyes narrowed.

"That little wretch… I'm surprised he's survived so far." The toad looked in pure horror at Tyrande, struggling and trying to get free from Mahi. Keever blinked, watching as Mahi turned the toad upside down and started stroking its belly. Slowly, the creature calmed down, till it was practically limp in her palm.

"What is it?" Keever asked first.

"Zenn Foulhoof," Tyrande said bitterly. "He was once a Satyr, attempting to corrupt this last pure forest in our world." Mahi smiled, and set the creature down, gently patting it on the head. Then she got up and came back to Keever.

We have to go soon, she said gently to him. He blinked, looking up at her.

"Where?" he asked.

To conflict. He swallowed.

"When do we have to go?"

Just soon… Just soon…Talk to Tyrande. Keever nodded slowly Then he turned back to Tyrande. The Moon Priestess looked at him a moment and then smiled gently.

"Good luck, Keever." He nodded numbly.

"Is there anything else I should know?" he inquired weakly.

"… There are two other celestial beings on Azeroth now. One of them is called Curiato. It's a reference to healing. The other is called Trua, and its name is a reference to compassion."

"What does Mahi mean?"

"Strength." Keever nodded and then tilted his head to the side.

"Why did you look sad when Keever mentioned Malfurion?" Tyrande made a face, and considered not answering. Then, with deliberation, she said the truth.

"Malfurion is lost in the sleep of the Emerald Dream, the realm of the Green Dragon. No one can find him. But the Mahi tells me there is hope… And I believe her…"

"Maybe he is doing something very, very important. If that's so, he'll come back to you as soon as it's done." Keever said slowly, sorting through what he knew of emotions and making a weak attempt at trying to consol the elf. It worked, and she smiled, patting him on the head.

"As I said, Undead, good luck. Know that most of the time, Mahi and yourself will be invisible, and soundless. You can ask her anything you want, and no one else will see or hear." He nodded and then backed up next to Mahi. Mahi smiled, first down at him and then at Tyrande. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around the undead and both he and she faded into the very world around them.

Tyrande stood there, silent, contemplating the fate of the world. At least she could be assured that Mahi would put up a hell of a fight.


Jaina, Thrall, Unicorn

Jaina's jaw dropped as she saw what was before her. Immediately, she turned her head. "Warchief! Come here!"

The Humans and Orcs had formed a small hunting band. There had been a severe concentration of demonic energy within Dustwallow Marsh, and both races had immediately rushed to see its demise. Due to treaties, and the fact that both leaders had somehow managed to come (Something both leaders had arranged beforehand), no fighting occurred between the two different groups. Instead, the ban had begrudgingly joined together, and was currently hunting down the last of the demons.

Thrall's soft footsteps- amazingly soft due to his shamanistic roots, as his armor was very heavy- sounded beside her and the Warchief came up at her side. What he saw caused his blue eyes to widen. He watched Jaina slowly creep forward and kneel down next to the thing, touching its throat.

"It's alive," She said with a note of relief.

"What… is it…?" Thrall asked, awe in his voice, coming out beside her. The animal was beautiful. Pure white in color, it was equine, with a long, twisting horn protruding from the center of its forehead. It was badly bruised and looked dehydrated, but it wasn't bleeding, and judging by its sides moving with every breath, it was alive.

"I think it's a unicorn." The orc blinked, looking at her as she gently lifted up its head, examining it and its horn.

"I have… heard that term before…"

"They are supposed to be defenders of nature… This one's so small… I wonder if it's just a baby…?" Indeed, the animal was just barely 4 feet long. Thrall blinked, tilting his head to the side.

"The demons must have been keeping it for a sacrifice. Perhaps I heard of them from Cairne." Jaina nodded to herself, looking up at him.

"We need to get it to safety... I can try to teleport it to Mulgore." Thrall frowned.

"You've scantly been to Mulgore. Are you sure you can get there?" Jaina hesitated.

"Well what else can we do?" she asked, worried for the creature. Thrall sighed and then pulled out some parchment.

"Do you have a quill and some ink?" Jaina blinked and then fished around in her backpack before producing the necessary items. Thrall took them and scrawled down something on the paper. Then he handed it to her. "Teleport to my keep. Vol'jin will be there- give this to him. He will see you have speedy passage to Thunderbluff from there. You should be able to see exactly where Thunderbluff is. Then Vol'jin will lead you to Cairne. Explain the situation, teleport back here, and then teleport the Unicorn to Cairne's tent. You remember all that?" Jaina nodded, smiling, and taking the scroll.

"You owe me a cookie for all this teleporting," She said with a grin, backing up and chanting her spell to aid in the casting of it. With a flash of ruins, she vanished. Thrall watched her go and then knelt down next to the unicorn, reaching up and stroking it neck.

"Poor beast… It's alright. We'll help you." It made a low whinny of pain, twitching, and then relaxed under the Shaman's gentle strokes. He looked at the pitiful creature and then slowly unclasped his cloak, lifting the equine animal up and setting it down on the cloak, making it a splice between a blanket and a stretcher. He then called his wolf over to lie down beside it, which it did surprisingly without complaint or bark. The Warchief looked around a moment and then stood up, going to find the secondary leader of the orc side of the hunting party. After giving explicit and detailed instructions (And explicit and detailed threats about punishments for attacking the humans), Thrall returned to the animal and sat beside it, just petting its neck comfortingly.