Ok, as much as I want to leave all of you right there, there is a wee bit more.
Oh, and trust me, I REALLY wanted to end the story right there, but...a little more for the running into the next story. Did he...?
Yes, yes I did. :P
Enjoy.
"It be this day mon, that it all come down to the truth. Whatever that may be, let it be known that Tok Fon shall fight for the Titans and all their glory. I promise to beat back the shadows, and drive the shroud into oblivion. Tok Fon shall not fail; if not for pride…than out of fear of what comes if I do…"
First line etched upon the pages of the Book: Mortality's Memorandum.
Right below that is scribbled: If you find this book and you ain't Tok Fon, throw it into the nearest body of water. Someone will fish it up. Eventually…
Two years.
Two eternal, unmerciful years…
Day one of this said span began with the invasion of Grim Batol. The failed invasion of Grim Batol. The heroes of Azeroth stormed the bastion's gates, surprise the aspect of triumph. Alas, it was not in the champion's hand where this element lied…
Bursting from the portal, the soldiers were greeted by none other than the Destroyer himself and a legion of dragons that stood in his shadow. For hours, fire rained from furious, pitch-black, sky -clotting clouds. For hours, the few that were sent to spring us to the finale bled rivers of blood. For hours, there was nothing but anguish, despair, and agony.
And after a full rise and setting of the sun, the battle was upon its end; the heroes unable to take anything say for a small plateau overlooking the gates. It was with this bleak event that world tasted the beginning of what was to come.
So for two…long…years…the world plummeted into the chaos that is the Cataclysm.
The Firelord launched an onslaught on the holy World Tree that is Nordrassil. Elements raged, each one turning the world into a playground for their malicious makings. The seas were filled with the vile Naga and restless Kvalidir. The armies of the Twilight feasted upon all lands untainted. And, if not satiated by the situation, mortality forfeited all strands of sanity; plunging into all out war in hopes of gaining what little natural resources remained.
The world was truly lost to the darkness…
But, if our heroes learned anything from the Scourge's defeat, then it is that no matter the darkness, no matter the shroud, and no matter the damnation the light never fails. Upon this notion was where salvation lied.
And it was with its call where the revolution began…
Taking to arms, tens of thousands of champions rose to the call of their world's plight. They stood beside the Keepers Malfurion Stormrage and Cenarius upon the foot of the World Tree – standing against the sea of flames. They took to the skies and seas to beat back the growing fleets upon the tides. And after over a year of constant conflict, they took to the small rise that would serve for their revenge of Grim Batol…
They took to…Deathwing's Lair itself…
Loyal legions of unrelenting, sinister soldiers took refuge in the fortress's glorious ruins. Fire-belching beasts lit the ground with unholy infernos and blotted the heavens with strangulating soot. Twisted Twilight followers called forth swarms of twisted, vile monsters from unknown depths. Yet, despite their despicable means, despite their dastardly doings, the defenders of Grim Batol could not match the might of this world's champions…
Marching upon the very platform of Deathwing's roost, the heroes took to sharpest blade, most surged of magics, and truest of arrows. Flames tested the strength of our soldiers. Fires feasted upon their courage. Infernos ignited all sparks of fear. A battle for all to behold…
A battle that almost seemed lost…
It was then that the Ruby and Amber dragonflights, the magi under Rhonin's command, and all others present concocted a plan to end it all. Drawing their power together, they channeled into the heart of darkness. They filled the armored, dark dragon with energy and strength unlike any imaginable. And as he stood, readying to unleash what he thought was his, he saw his end…
The end that was born from the same Dragon Soul that was his horrifying ascension. The end that was birthed in the same fashion as his first deception. The end that was born...from the Destroyer's very beginning.
And as the fed power shook his core, the thick, heavy sheets of armor were beaten, worn, and weakened by the mortal's might. Gaseous pustules of power seeped from his core. And the cover that kept him whole all these years could no longer withstand the pulsing energy within.
Climbing into the sky, he tried to escape his end. Crawling at the heavens, he prayed for salvation. But his efforts were naught, the seed of his greed his conclusion. Fireballs burst as fireworks from his core. Embers flickered as sparklers upon the bleak clouds. And an explosion that could be seen for miles ripped a whole in the clouds, and let rain down the light…
Deathwing the Destroyer was no more…
Chunks of terrifying armor floated harmlessly. Flames that once purged now lit the skies with beautiful visages. And the cries of war now rained as glorious shouts of triumph. Many took to celebration, the victory what they thought their finale.
Alas, the elements still raged unchecked. So, for a few months to follow, those who witnessed Death's Destruction, gathered one last time, beating the Elemental Lords back and sealing them back into their realms. And soon, even the land was calm…
The Cataclysm at its end…
So it is this day that people of this planet rejoice. So it is this day the planet takes time to remember those lost, to recall heroes, and legends alike. So it is this day the people of all cities take to peace, even if for just this day. So it is this day…we should all be joyeous…
But for some, those witness to the tainting of Therazane and her rise to madness, this day seems no different than last. For some, today is another day. For some, despite the glee, the happiness, and the celebration, a constant itch strains their sanity and blocks all triumph.
For some…all they can see…are the shadows…
Today, within the walls of Stormwind, outside the towering Cathedral of light, a mighty gathering of celebrators converge. It is here, amongst the pack of drunken denizens, where I, Nathanos, Darion, and Tok find ourselves.
For some, unknown reason a man of the light came looking for us a few days prior. He simply told us to come to Stormwind and that the speaker would let us know what for. Against all of Nathanos' illogical reasoning, we took to the messenger's words and…well….here we are.
Amongst the humble, joyous alliance population. Standing awkwardly within a crowd that is unlike our own. We watch all the people cheering and chanting as the said speaker of our purpose goes on for the thirtieth minute of this rather dull monologue. Of course, those he truly speaks to are enthralled, impassioned, and enticed by every breath emitted.
But we are not to whom he speaks…
So, it is here, where we smile no smiles, emit no signs of glee, nor speak. It is here…where we wait…listening to the grand words of the grand Archbishop Benedictus himself –waiting for whatever sign he plans to deliver upon us. Now, if only he would do anything else but talk.
You know it feels he has been speaking forever. Young one, stay awake!
"Children of the light, today is a glorious day! Today marks the end of what seemed like an eternity of unrelenting darkness. It signifies our strength as a people!" Benedictus raises a hand to the crowd, stirring their shouts, "It lets glisten the power of the light and let's shine those who follow its righteous sway!"
Roars grow loader, their intoxicated state present…
"I could speak for hours, preaching of our present feats, but such foolishness is as foul as those beasts bested!" He inserts joy carefully into each syllable. "So, I shall finish this speech with some words of words passed down to me from my greatest teacher…"
Strong, commanding eyes sweep the howling pack, connecting with as many people possible as they pass. He takes a moment to draw suspense. He takes a minute to test our patience. He takes his time…
"Drink only as much as you can stomach!" Mugs lifted across the entire gathering, their jeers louder than ever, "And if you are a dwarf, leave some for the rest of us!"
Laughter engulfs the heavens, drowning all in something other than the alcohol beverages in their hands. Humans take Elves in arms. Dwarves are lifted upon Draenai shoulders. All members of this faction united. All people of this city enjoying a moment of glory that seemed almost lost…
However, as I feast upon all the happiness, I feel the hairs on my neck stand. Prodding pricks poke my sanity and draw my gaze to the steps of the Cathedral. Following each, gray, stone-built step, I let my eyes search for what assaults my person. I land upon a red carpet that runs down the exact center, and finally come to a pedestal that stands before the Cathedral's entrance.
It is there where the Archbishop stands. It is there…where a man in white robes stares down at a gravedigger – at me.
Locking eyes with him, I sense an odd combination of awkwardness and concern. He narrows his brow as he gains my full focus and throws me a slow nod. Tilting his head back, he makes a motion for me to follow before he swiftly breaks from his pedestal and darts for the looming arch behind him.
That is it…
"Worm!" A stinging pain shoots down my arm as an undead man jabs me, "I think the holy man is beckoning you!"
Rubbing my shoulder, I reply, "Really, what gave you that idea?"
"The creepy eyes." He shrugs, "Who knows, it may also be the horrid sense of nausea I get from being here. Here…in this disgusting, nasty, filthy city."
"I take it you don't like it here, eh, Marris?"
"Don't like?" He speaks rapidly and angrily, "If it were up to me, I'd use the bricks of every building I were to destroy to make a giant fist where the shattered foundation of this entire city currently stands! And, embracing all those who dare pass what remains, is a lone, enormous finger erected from said fist for all to bear!"
He lifts his fist, curls it into a ball, faces the closed palm to the sky and makes to show what he is speaking of, but a swift, teal hand clamps upon all his digits before said undead could give us the show.
"Mon, I don't know wat dat would do in any way, but I'd rather not find out." His gaze drifts to me, "Dat and, ya loud mout'not be important now. Hope here done got some work to do."
As if mimicking the Archbishop's motion, he throws his head to the side to signify my need for movement. I sigh and shake my head, hoping to convey enough reluctance that everyone forgets this entire scenario. But that is a fool's hope…
CHIRP
Vibrations ripple from my backpack, and I instinctively reach backwards, grip the tiny sympathizer, and pull her into view. Shacking wildly, her wagging tail forces her into an oscillating movement. Tiny limbs wrap around my fingers.
Her tiny body quakes rather excitedly, and I look at her with hopes she will agree…
"Squeals, you think I shouldn't go, right?"
Suddenly, her movement lessens and her eyes feel as if piercing my soul. She tilts her head forward and squeezes my fingers rather painfully. Great, thanks for the vote, traitor.
I push her to the side, pushing her to Tok.
"Keep her safe for the time being, troll." I sigh, "I am going in."
Before she is lifted from my hands, she begins to vibrate again. She releases her grip and eagerly chirps as he clutches her and tucks her into his sleeves. You can see all of his garments begin to quiver as she shakes from within.
Fine, be that way…
Turning from the four pressing people, and a raptor, I march towards the stone steps and hesitate before throwing a foot upon the first one. Slowly, I take another step. And then a third. As I near the top, a pair of armored guards throw a quick glance at me before returning to their once still stance.
I half expect them to halt my advance, but as I come to the stone archway, I know that they have been notified. As I move into the building, I notice a glimmer from overhead. A small, dull, indigo window rests as four disconnected panes of glass. No light passes through it, but for some reason, it seems to call to me…
You are just losing you mind. Young one, press on.
Moving forward, I let my feet sink upon the ruby carpet below. I make a right and maneuver down an oddly built corridor before entering a massive chamber. Pillars rise to either side of the long room – four per side. A set of doors are locked upon the walls to my left and right, and force my sight upon the far end of this grand room.
The red carpet runs down the exact center, leading to a small set of three steps. Ruby hugs each rise and glorify each miniature platform. Blood colored silk comes to its end at the base of a large pedestal. Standing before it, bracing it with his back turned to me, is a man covered in white robes. Gold glistens at the trim, and gleams in the light that pours from the window overhead.
Drawn to the glow, I let the bright stained-glass image fill my eyes. I am not sure of what it is meant to depict, but its marvel is overwhelming. Amber rays penetrate from each piece of marvelously made pane. Gold beams form a beacon that molds into a spotlight for the man. A beacon of holiness amidst a room that is nearly completely black.
"Hope Blackwood, it is an honor." He speaks without looking, "Such a shame so few know of your feats. A pity your tales lost to the cries of the ignorant. Grand righteous lost. The light denied."
He chuckles, "But heroes don't need praise, do they, Hope?"
A hesitate momentarily before replying, "I don't care much for attention. That is why I was rather hesitant to come here, and why I am rather curious to know. Why did you call me here?"
Leaning upon the pedestal, bracing it as if his own weight is too much to bear, he takes a moment to let the lines of his answer form.
"Recently, and I do take to the cognitive concoction of the word, I have been having visions. Dark, twisted visages of a troll, a death knight, and two forsaken warriors. But, each one of them is lost to a child, a boy before them all."
Nervously, he lifts a hand and pulls back the white hood from his head, "That boy kneels before a wall of darkness. He takes in only a duet of darkness' damnation. A pair of burning, magenta orbs."
His head turns, half his face visible. Pausing briefly, he lets his lone eye connect with mine. At the same time the light around him flickers, and a pane overhead dulls.
"It is you, Hope."
I make to speak, but he has no intentions to let me, "And I have learned, the means of such acquirement known to me and those giving alone, that it is of the past. A moment prior where the light itself faded, and called out to those who can hear."
Compelled by something deep within, I interrupt, "So you called to ask me what it is? What really happened?"
He smirks, "No child, that, as stated, is already possessed." The smile vanishes as two more panes are darkened, "You see, the reason you are here is that a new vision has come to me."
His words slowly fill with despair, the once commanding voice tainted, "This one takes place in a rather spacious abode. There, shadows creep in at all angles say for a pedestal illuminated by a single ray of unending light."
More panels fade, the light trickling as but a fraction of its prior strength, "And there stands a man; lit by the light, while a child stands in the darkness. There stands a man, while the light that surrounds him fades."
Ominously he chuckles, the few panes still gleaming, "It is this, exact moment. This exact place in time. This…precise event. Whether I sped its occurrence, or simply enacted its proper timing, I do not know nor care. All I know is it is exactly…as…I dreamed…"
He trails off into his head. I, however, am fiercely focused…
"What are you trying to say, Archbishop?" Confusion coats my words, "What does is that supposed to mean?"
Once again, desperate, distraught chuckles rain from his throat, "You see, when the final pane goes out, this said dream ends. It leaves me in a state of nothingness. Which makes me believe that either it is a merely a dream…"
Words halt as he turns to look upon the window. Now a single sheet of glass remains lit. Flickering suddenly, it follows his said vision as planned. Fading, it passes to the moment he has so waited for. Dulling, it lets all truths be told and finishes what the man has witnessed…
And as it nearly gone, the man speaks once more, "Or it is of something far worse."
The light goes out. No more rays. No illumination. Only silence. Complete silence, say for the sudden laughter of the Archbishop.
"Nothing happened. Nothing at all! Ha!" He throws his head forward, shaking it joyfully, "It was just a dream, Hope. Forgive me for bringing you all this way for nothing, but I had to see…"
Interrupting, a rather unnerving thunder roars from overhead.
"I just had to be rid of that horrible nightmare."
An overwhelming silence follows besides the man's voice.
"The truth to set me free."
Utter silence.
No sounds.
No whispers.
Nothingness…
Suddenly, a fierce tremor quakes my world. I do not know if it is mine alone to bear, but I sway back and forth wildly, all current visions blurred. A horrific pain surges across the top of my head. Flashes of black fill my sight. Growing light-headed, it becomes hard to stand…
Then, as quickly as the horrific oddity began, it ends. Heavy lungs expand. Fearful lungs collapse. Rap, rap, rap, a rapid heart pounds. Eyes sweep the surroundings and find the carpet in my eyes. Slowly, I pull to an upright stance, shake my head to see if the world trembles, and wait.
Nothing.
"Child…"
I throw my eyes forward, the Archbishop exactly as he was.
"I was wrong…"
Turning, he moves smoothly and determinedly. His heavy hair sways with his movement, and slaps his cheeks…
"It wasn't a dream…"
His eyes are closed, but his lips quiver violently…
"Run…"
"What?" Startled, I try to decipher his words.
Eyelids slide sunder, a set of eyes revealed…
"It wasn't a dream." Tears flow freely as my stomach twists, "The light has abandoned us…"
Eyes…as black as coals…
"RUUUUUNNNN!"
His screams radiate across the halls, drowning all senses in horrible agony. His screams echo upon walls that bleed a thick black – the shadows pour as blood. His screams all I can hear, say for the quiet slapping of my soles upon the stone. I round the bend, exit the archway…
My legs grow weak…
A once unorganized mob now gathers in quiet despair. A once rambunctious riot rests terrifyingly. A once loud, overwhelming crowd remains silenced. Half the crowd lies upon their backs and stomachs, signs of life all naught if not for their violent flinching. The other half stands or kneels, their faces tormented…and their eyes solid black…
It cannot be…
I dare try to hide from the obvious truth; the horrible revelation the ultimate nightmare. My thoughts avoid the one and only conclusion. My entirety wishes that this is just an illusion, a visage of something beyond the current time…
But…a thunderous call booms from the heavens, calling as it did so long ago. It confirms all, and shatters this dreamer's fallacy.
"My children, a joyous day indeed!" Spinning, I heed the call, turning to see a gathering cloud that twits over the Cathedral's steeple, "A day that dwarves all others!"
Unnaturally, the demonic nimbus spirals above the construct, flashes of lightning bursting. Sparks dance across the holy edifice as the cloud crawls downward, devouring the once divine bastion in damnation. And gleaming where it once was dark…the window above the archway burns a bright…magenta hue…
An orb amongst the darkness…
"This day marks the end. The end of my finest soldier. The end of Deathwing. Of who was slain by all my children's savage hands!" Shadows creep down the stone walls, dragging and shifting towards me, "A feat proud and true! A feat…put forth as not a mere diabolic event…"
They yearn…
"But as a test…"
They…hunger…
"WORM!" A fierce pressure pulses across my arm, and I am dragged backwards, "Run, you idiot! Run!"
My eyes stay locked upon the swirling, sinister cloud. The words spoken dancing through my mind. The horrors that haunted me so now standing as they once did. The truth at hand…
You need to run! Young one, stop thinking…RUN!
Uncontrollably, I pivot upon my heels. Darting forward, I dash across the upon courtyard – the writhing bodies naught. Dodging arms, legs, benches, and obstacles of all sorts, I heed the word commanded. I take full regard…to flee…
Buildings before me grow dark, these two gathering a hefty coat of sickening black blood. Cries rain from those caught by the darkness. Screeches shoot from feminine lungs. Deep, rumbling howls penetrate from masculine chests.
Suddenly, a force catches me and I spin slightly. Gripping my chest-piece, a man pants heavily and weeps profusely. Beads of bountiful tears stream down his cheeks while muscles oscillate painfully.
And as he speaks, he stares upon with me black, hollowed pits, "Can't you see them? The orcs have returned! They are going to burn my barn! They are going to destroy the tower the guards built by my farm! They are going to destroy everything!"
He shakes me, drawing closer, the hollowed, black pits that are his eyes vomiting dark flames, "We must stop them! I must stop them!"
Throwing himself from me, he lunges at some unseen figure. Whipping an imaginery sword from an illusionary seethe, he begins thrashing as if the greatest of skilled warriors. He shouts nonsense and loses himself…to his nightmare…
"Worm, I swear I am going to leave you!" Again a swift jerk catches me and I spin forward, Nathanos' face before mine. Sincerity and stomach-clenching significance reeks from his breathe, "If you stop again, I am going to let them take you."
He holds me for a second before taking to his feet. Control yourself Hope. Go, run!
Once again, I catapult forward, rushing under a wooden underpass. Stone slaps against my leathery soles. Smooth rocks slip against my tracked treads. All speed upon my legs. All dreadful designs for me to witness…
Coming to a road that runs against a long canal, I let the sight of once clean waters be cleansed from my mind. Replacing it are rivulets of pitch-black darkness – as if slithering pools of oil. I shoot to my left and continue after the undead. Ahead, shadows whip, slapping the stone as if alive. Guards slice at the roots, but find no salvation.
Mangled claws grasp one warrior. Whipping rearwards, the man is pulled into nothingness – his screams all that remain. We near a bridge. Black waters lash as if trying to get a tasteful lick of our flesh. Swiftly, he dart across a small bridge, run upon another path parallel to the dark water's and continue.
Nathanos controls his pace, his concern present. Dodging a striking shadow, he rolls and comes to an archway. He halts, letting a sight strangle his sanity. Coming to him, I feel the same ice grasp my legs. Before us stands a trio of guards in gray clash against single dark shadow soldiers.
They hold their own. Suddenly, another dark monstrosity appears, grabs a guard from behind and drags him into the darkness. His horrified screeches all that remain. I watch as the other two squirm in despair, their desperation overwhelming their courage.
"Worm! Come on!"
I move without question, letting the guiding stomps of decaying feet fill my soul. Buildings run alongside us, fading to an agonizing black color. Waters continue strike, yearning for a clear shot. Rounding a bend, a voice rains loudly and clearly…
"To the keep, soldiers!" A crier calls for all those still functioning, "The king has…"
Coming into sight, I get full glimpse of the man as a twisted claw clamps against his face. Whipping him as weightless, it flips him over the bridge he stands upon and both vanish into the thick sludge. Yet, where his end comes, the sight of salvation shines brightly. For behind him is a mighty pair of wooden doors, and a pack of feuding fight guards – dark warrior's pressing for the kill.
Desperate, terrorized citizens climb past those engaged. They care little for those entangled and less for their safety. As I dash onward, the sense of sanctuary greater with every step, I soon understand their plight…
"Look out!"
Nathanos jabs his palm into his chest. Winded, I gasp. Blinded, I can barely see the tendril of black whip past my face. Dumbfounded, I take in the savior of the undead as he leans away from the unseen strike.
"Help me!" A cry rains from the bridge to our side, where the crier once stood, "For everything holy, help me!"
It draws closer. Throwing my sight, I land upon a man – his legs entangled by the same coil we evaded. He slides past our feet, and we each grab a limb. The force is remarkable. My feet skid against stone, unable to stop. His legs vanish into the black wall. We tug at his body…but the darkness has him clutched…
Staring down at the man, we get but a taste of the terror he feels. We get a sample of the sorrow and the agony. And we watch…as he is devoured wholly. For a moment, all I can do is gaze at the darkness, its call unyielding.
Sparks and bursts rain from the side, from the keep's entrance, but the call of the shadow is great. I can almost reach out and touch it. I can almost…
PHWACK
"We are almost there, you dolt. Don't go all Worm on me now!"
Rubbing the back of my head, I let the weak pain fade fast. The once blocked routes are clear. A troll and death knight stand waiting, the broken bodies near their feet. In a flash we shoot past the final bend. In a flash we round the final trek. In a flash we come upon the two waiting and bound for the door.
Yet, as I come to the safe haven, the dark voice booms as death itself…
"What a marvelous day, my minions! What a splendid spectacle! Pure and breath-taking! Horrid and terrifying!" Rhythmic bursts rain as laughter, as exploding cannonballs upon hallowed walls, "My little champions at play! How…delightful…"
His words roll from the heavens, enveloping from all angles. It is distant yet as close as a whispering voice…
"Hope, get inside!" Darion hollers from behind, "Hurry!"
Turning, my stomach churns and my heart aches. Rolling and tumbling upon the very path we just took, a mesh of black and gray clouds charge as if fueled by some unholy darkness. All is shrouded by the moving mass of weightlessness. All is consumed by the assault of the unknown. All is devoured by the darkness.
Moving, out of fear or intelligence I do not know, I dart past the doors. They slam, bolted shut as the horrifying shadows near. Sound and secured, they brace boldly for the bounding darkness that comes. A handful of soldiers stand steadfast, their shields and swords at the ready. I, however, continue on, tripping as I feel my feet land against a sudden incline.
Facing the route I run, I see a narrow, long, steep ramp before me. To the sides are numerous jarred doors, denizens tucked in their bowels. A blue carpet runs down the center and rests beneath the feet of the very King himself.
"Guards hold strong!" He waves at those behind me and those around him, "Let the light give you strength!"
Tok, Darion and Nathanos reach the man moments before I do, and they are welcomed by the King's commanding call,
"Troll, what travesties are these? One moment sweet serenity. The next…this nightmare!" He throws his hands as if accusing, "Explain to me, Tok. What is this?"
The troll sighs, no words able to escape his maw before shouts ring from the guards below…
"Sir, the gates!" Turning, I embrace the clawing darkness that slips past the seals of the giant blockers, "Sir! It is still coming! What do we do?"
A moment passes…
"To the throne room!" Footsteps chime and I turn back towards the King, of who rushes down the corridor, "We shall make our stand there!"
At a brisk walk, he makes mild haste as we move on. Room by room pass by our sides. Giant statues slip in and out of view. And ahead, the top of a massive, stone throne comes into view.
"Anything to spare before this battle, Tok?" The King Wrynn presses on as we sweep ever closer, "Or am I as enlightened as thee?"
He throws a glare rearward before grunting, "Very well. If we lack knowledge, then we shall simply beat back the aggressor." He shouts for all, "Let this stand show our strength, my soldiers!"
Calming, roaring chants ring from his daunting lungs, "Let this moment be our newest triumph, and add upon the already present prestige of our grand survival!"
I turn, seeing if the words are more than naught. Taking in the soldiers that follow, their faces are hidden but the fear is present.
"Fear not the darkness that comes!"
Their courage strained…
"Know that victory awaits us within these chambers!"
Their will tested…
"That the light itself manifests upon…these…walls…"
His words drag as if he has lost his own attention. It is as if his own focus is…
Painfully, I slam into the back of an undead. I flinch, expecting the bone-slap of a lifetime, but nothing. Peering forward, the pain from his punch fades into oblivion. My eyes drift, each passing second as agonizing as the last. My orbs shake, feasting upon the horrors before me. My vision finds…what I prayed was lost…
At the top of the steps is a pair of dark-gray, leather boots. Spikes run side to side and front to back upon. Each spine glistens sinisterly and rolls to the pinch that forms before the bottom section that is the sole. Sheets of metal are pieced upon the surface – extra support for feet deserving.
To the sides cling towering sheets of black cloth. A trifecta of white, black, and gray ripples across the surface of this fabric as if a black and white sea was siphoned as the very skin of the garment. Following it, the sheets ripple as some unseen breeze catches it.
Beneath it is a pair of sturdy legs; thick plate panes roll across his shines. Heavy iron is nestled upon his knees. Curling steel covers his thighs. A shrouded belt is revealed by a massive belt buckled, the letter "V" engraved upon its surface.
Above the said supporter is a heavy, curved chest-piece. Smooth as the pebbles that the city's roads are built of, it lacks any signs that complicate the design. Sleek and glistening, the dark-gray armor is simple and perfect. It is as if all other armors were once based upon its simplicity…
It runs to a pair of hulking shoulders that end the trench coat of dark tides. To the sides are hulking, confident arms. Plate folds around the upper-arm; the same uncomplicated design is built here, say for one anomaly. At the sides of the arms, where the front fades to the back, the armor seems to turn into flickering flames – as if the metal itself is some sort of fire. The gray armor transforms into a fiery inferno, molding to black to signify the true horror of what is protected beneath.
Exactly as this piece, the forearm's sheet molds into fires at the sides and maintains the straightforward features. Lastly, tiny plates run upon his fingers but do not hide the pale flesh that is his palm and finger tips.
As I take in his hands, the voice that once boomed from the heavens now calls from nearby. It rumbles from the man before me…
"Sadly, my children, our fun has depleted. More serious matters to be addressed…"
Drawing my eyes, I return to his shoulders, letting the curved hunks of metal lure me. Unlike the rest of plate, the designs are vast and difficult to embrace. The edges are pinched, a small indention followed by a bulge that forms as trim.
Rows and rows of unrecognizable runes begin at the portion nearest his armpits and roll upwards into the same gray, metallic fire that rest of his armor so knows. A dozen chains appear at the base of the flame and drag off towards the center of his body. Converging upon the center of his chest, they end at what appears to be a rather large, elliptical amulet.
Thin ring after thin ring is pressed tightly against each other, forming a piece of jewelry that seems as if it took years to properly construct. Tiny, black beads form at the crannies where the loops meet and sparkle an unholy, black sparkle. Oddly, in the dead center is an empty pit, as if something use to rest there, as if something was torn from it its core…
Once again, the demonic boom delays all thought…
"You have passed the test put before you. By your very hands, the Dark Dragon was defeated, and the armies of the twilight quelled. Bask in your grandeur, for it is well earned!" He rolls his hands, motioning delightfully, "And with such a monumental achievement, a great moment of glorious opportunity has sprouted!"
His arms lift, coming to his side, raining gray and black flames from his armor. He holds them…as if he is some righteous figure…
"And now, I pass for your pondering a perilous plot! I deliver a deviously delightful design! I usher…in…a challenge!"
My eyes navigate upwards, catching the faceplate of a dark figure's form. Flames from the shoulders flick the far edges, yet avoid the grandeur of this helm. Simple as the arms and chest, the smooth, sleek steel holds no decorations; expect for a crinkled edge that forms where a solid, flat, overlapping set of ear guards meet the faceplate at the corners of his cheeks.
Like the rest of the armor, the metal melts into flames – upon the top of the metal – forming a tenebrous halo, or a dark, demonic crown of fires that wafts above his head.
"Within the fleeting fancies of our minds, lies a plane of perfection. It is there where the structure, the foundation of our very foundation rests! It is there where all significances are stationed, all basis' born, and all originality orchestrated! It is there where the Emerald Dream blooms blossoms from life's bosom!"
A faceplate shifts. A faceplate of smooth simplicity. A simple curved sheet of metal, the bend positioned exactly upon the center of his face. No facial features present. None, except the horizontal lines of holes that form a quasi-visor. It is there where a bright glow rains. Burning as stars, yet bearing the weight of hellfire itself, are a pair of blaring orbs…
Purple diamonds…his eyes…
"But the dream you so dreamt of is vanquished! In its wake stands the tenebrous nimbus! The vast horizon of despair! Now, steadfast in the smothered existence of the defeated dream rests…the nightmare! My realm! My Kingdom!"
They pierce as they had two years ago…
"Champions of this world! Heroes of Azeroth! Children…of Vengeance! I challenge you to dive into my bastion! I challenge you to break down the doors I have concocted and prove that you deserve stand where I have so generously placed you…"
A pair of blaring beams amidst a sea of darkness…
"I challenge you…to the discovery, to the glory…of my blessing."
He hesitates briefly, feeding upon our still silence…
"Who dares accept that which has been so bluntly issued? Who dares accept my challenge? Who, of all the cities I stand to crush at this very moment is eager enough to save their people from the shadow that slithers so close? Who?"
Not a soul moves. Not a soul stirs. His words echo upon my mind and strangle my capacity – like he does so many others. And as he sweeps those that stand before him, which, if I guessed correctly, is far more than our little crew, he reads their thoughts…and bodies as books…
You know what must be done. Young one, be a man!
What I accept it and he…blows me up? What if he sets me on fire with his mind? What…
You must stop thinking! Young one, get up there and give him what for!
Ok, Hope, just stop thinking. You have been in worse situations. Yeah, like that one time. That…bah...just go, this is by far the worst.
So I sigh, let a leg lift, but am startled by a sudden force applied to my chest…
"Worm, I will not let your children's children - which will be told this way past your death and during my ever-lasting immorality - hear the words, 'Hope walked forward first.'"
Nathanos' eyes lock with mine from the corner. Swiftly, he steps forward, leans back from his hunched stance, and proudly cries,
"I accept it, you flaming fool." He flinches as the set of orbs bear down upon him. Taking a step back, he throws a finger at me and continues, "And so does he."
Oh, thank you, Marris. I am happy you didn't forget me in your plot…for the first time. Ever…
Loudly, a clap rings upon these hallowed halls. It floats upon the winds and drifts on for what feels like an eternity. And lingers long past it's normal existence. Following returns the shots of sinister chuckling that shakes the very soul…
"Then it is done! The map has been molded! The plot plotted! The course charted!" His eyes sweep nothingness, his tone rather gleeful, "My fellow friends granted witness from around the globe, let it be known that today, this very day, that the soldiers Nathanos Marris and Hope Blackwood have stood where none other dared!"
His voice deepens and tenses, a frighteningly threatening ring now…
"But be warned, if they fail, and my hunger far from satiated, then the agonizing event of destruction that wrought your cities today will be but an appetizer to the festering, furious feast that will follow when I return for more…"
It is then the orbs lock upon Nathanos' then mine. My soul shivers. My body quakes. The weight of his glare heavier than the world itself…
"Go to the world trees. Go to the gates you know so well. Go...and prepare for war." A hand lifts, three fingers held together, "Go now, close your eyes. Sleep. And dream…of vengeance…"
Snapping, he ignites an unseen signal. Sounds of rushing waters ream from behind and overwhelm all senses in seconds.
Winds whip at my back and force my eyes closed. Dragging at my clothing, the freezing breezes draw my hairs to ends. The world seems to pull us towards the dark being, but I cannot see what is truly happening. All I know is the roaring sounds and terrible chill is almost too much too bare…
Then, as quickly as it began, it is over. Warmth washes over my calming skin and clings upon resting clothing. Reluctantly, I open my eyes, blink twice, and let the light fill my eyes. No longer in sight is the dark being. All that remains is a throne, those that stood before me, and a screeching silence.
A silence that tests my sanity. And at this very moment, I have no patience for such…
Softly, I speak, "Good one, Marris."
He shrugs, "What else did you want me to do?"
He shifts past me jabbing me feebly as he does.
I cannot help but sigh. A thousand thoughts richochet within the hollowed walls of my skull. Some smother my strength, while others drive me to running and hiding. Others, however, seem random and unimportant. Well...say for one...
This one, "Nathanos, you could have just lied in your little story."
"Eh, Worm?"
"You could have just told the kid's that you went first. You didn't actually have to…"
"Ha!" Footsteps ring where all else rests still, "Nathanos Marris is no liar."
His voice draws distant, his stomps booming from down the hall.
"This undead is a man of his words! And he will not tell the story any other way than the truth!" He pauses, "Unless it affects me. Then stretching it is ok."
I sigh, turning down the hall. A set of doors are burst open. Light pours from where only darkness bloomed. And silhouetted by the gleaming illumination, an outline of a decaying, dead fool christens the mind. All of it magnifies his glory. Just how he wants it…
And I smile. Smile of some odd sense of tranquility. Smile because Nathanos appears as something more than a dead man. Smile…because I do not know what else to do. And smile…if not of truth than as a fallacy…
He turns and raises his hands as if bemused, "You coming? You volunteered and all."
Hesitating, I turn around, locking eyes with Darion, Tok, and then Wrynn. They make no movement and show no signs of hampering me. If anything, their silence is greater pressure for my involvement. No one on my side? Again?
Suddenly, Tok's sleeve begins to rustle and a tiny head pops out. She looks at me, leaps from his robes and dashes to me. Vibrating upon the ground, her own feet skidding side to side, she waits patiently for my lifting power.
Willingly, I reach down, grab the tiny raptor, and pull the quaking beast in my hands. I sigh a second time. I raise her over my head, drop her on my shoulder and march forward. She quietly chirps, her entire form almost shaking me along with her.
It would seem, Squeals, that in the last hour I some how went from simply wandering around, enjoying the joys of others to some how being plunged into some horrific scheme. I should be nervous. I should be anxious. I guess I am numb. That or too afraid to truly comprehend what is happening. Of course, from the actions of the others, they make no disagreements to show they feel any differently.
We are all simply dumbstruck and terrified, but cannot truly show it.
The truth will hit us, eventually. But for now, Hope, just let the random, spontaneous undead lead. He is the only one actually doing, so might as well follow.
Marching towards Nathanos, I reach back, pat Squeals, and whisper, "Well, this cannot be that bad. I have been through worse…"
Right?