When the party left the village, Crok was indeed waiting just outside, standing as still as a pillar of ice just outside the village. The taunka guards were pacing back and forth nervously, eyeing the Death Knight as though they expected him to attack at any moment.
As the party approached, Crok shifted slightly to regard Fred and George, before turning his head to Maraad. "Who are these two?"
"Fred and George, mages of the Kirin Tor," Maarad answered. "We fought beside them before, at Valiance Keep. They have offered to assist us in our efforts to retrieve Quel'Delar."
"Hmph. Well, mages could be useful. Can the two of you make portals?" Crok demanded.
"We can," George answered, his expression neutral. Fred, for her part, looked like she was trying to set Crok on fire with her mind, which considering her profession was entirely possible. "I take it you desire a quick method of egress from Icecrown if necessary?"
"Only a fool would linger there," Crok rumbled. He nodded to the party. "Well, we best be off. Our guide, Kilix, waits for us in the Pit of Narjun. Come."
Crok turned and began to head down the trail towards the massive hole, Harry and the others walking along behind them. While the living members of the party each carried a pack containing rations, clothing, and other supplies, Crok bore only his weapons and armor. Apparently, the undead warrior didn't require much in the way of provisioning.
They climbed down into the pit, using the webs and robes of spider silk left behind by the nerubians to descend. The pit was cold and icy, and smelled of dust and decay. Several times, Harry sensed the motion of undead around them, but could not locate the source exactly. The area had to be honeycombed with tunnels, and the undead nerubians were all around them, unseen, but not undetected.
After about an hour of making their way down, they reached the bottom of the cavern floor, where glowing mushrooms grew in the darkness.
"Where is our guide?" Impa asked, raising a hund that cupped a glowing ball of flame to reveal the area around them.
From there darkness, there was a clicking sound and soft thrum. "Mmm, mmm, two legs, put that out. The servants of the traitor king see much, mmm, mmm."
Impa let out a gasp, turning as from the ceiling crawled a nerubian, exactly like the ones that had assaulted Valiance Keep, save for one key detail: this one yet lived.
"Do as he says," Crok growled. "Your light will attract the Scourge."
Impa reluctantly lowered her hand and the Light went out, leaving them all in near pitch blackness, save for dim light that still filtered from above.
"Mmm, I am Kilix the Unraveler, two legs," the nerubian said as it crawled forward on it's six legs, it's two hands rubbing together. "You seek passage through the city?"
"We are on a mission to retrieve a powerful relic," Harry stated. "It is a weapon we seek to use against the Scourge."
"Mmm, this is known. But him," Kilix came forward, towering over Ron, who gripped his warhammer in both hands, trying to see in the near darkness. "He carries the blood of the Old One upon him. He must be offered as a sacrifice to the Seekers to aton for the sins of the two legs."
"Try and I'll roast you to cinders, bugman," Fred growled, coming between the nerubian and Ron, her fists igniting in flames.
"He is needed to fight the Lich King," Crok said evenly. "You have to decide, nerubian. Do you hate the Traitor King more, or this boy who slew your pathetic god?"
"Mmm, mmm." Kilix scuttled back, rubbing his hands together in the glowing light of Fred's flames. At last he jerked his head up and down. "Very well. The Ancient One did not save us from the Lich King and his puppets. I shall guide you through the City. But be warned. The way is not safe. The Traitor King and his armies lie between us and our goal."
"Anub'arak," Crok muttered. "The King of Crypts is here?"
"Indeed. Mmmm. Something stirs within the city. Perhaps the Lich King has caught wind of your plans, two legs. Mmmm, we must hurry. If we stay, they will find us, and kill us."
Fred lowered her hands slowly, her flames flickering away. "Alright, but I don't bloody well like wandering about in the dark. We'll need some sort of light."
"As you will, two legs. But lights bring more than just the traitors here, mmmm." Kilix turned and began to skuttle down a tunnel, and Harry and the others followed, making small lights of their own to guild their way. Harry and Maraad affixed glowing symbols of the Naaru upon their foreheads, while Ron, Impa and Fred made small fires. George for his part conjured several small mage lights, which floated around his head, lighting the path.
Kilix lead the way, scuttling ahead for a time, then clinging to the ceiling and waiting for the party to approach. They walked for several minutes through winding tunnels, before coming to a large cavern that their minor lights could not penetrate.
"Mmmm, mmm, perhaps a little light here," Kilix murmured. He raised his hands, conjuring a glowing blue pillar of light. Harry shielded his eyes for a moment, but as they adjusted he gasped in amazement.
"Behold," Kilix murmured, his voice low and mournful. "Ahn'kahet. The Old Kingdom. Once the jewel of Azjol Nerub. Mmmm. Now a tomb of the damned."
Below them, spreading out for miles in the cavern lay a vast an ancient complex. Many great buildings could be seen, including a massive temple with the profane icons of the Old Gods upon it. The buildings were all of black stone, with architecture that reminded Harry of old pictures of the Temple of Luxor he'd seen back on earth. Great obelisks adorned the top of many buildings or were placed along pathways with scarab and spider icons, along with the many tentacled icon of the Old Gods. Spidly adornments like great insect legs arched over walkways or entrances to buildings, making each seem like a deadly lair. Phosphorescent fungi provided some light at various locations, but once Kilix dimmed his illumination they appeared as little more that fuzzy blotches of color.
"Mmmm, we must proceed carefully from here," Kilix said. "Come, two legs. I know the secret ways."
As Kilix lead them away, Harry looked out at the darkness, imagining the majesty of the once great city. "What happened here?" he asked Kilix. "Did the entire kingdom fall to the Scourge?"
"Fall? Mmmmm, yes, yes, fall we did. For years, we fought back the Scourge, lead by our greatest champion: Anub'arak, the Underking. Mmmmm, a mighty warrior, that one, blessed by the Old Ones. Anub'arak lead an assault upon Icecrown. Many warriors fell. Mmmmm, but Anub'arak returned. Claimed he had defeated the Lich King. Many sacrifices were made to The Thousand Maws that day, and much celebration. But it did not last."
"Anub'arak had not been victorious, mmmm, he had fallen, been slain by the Scourge. But he was raised again as the first and greatest Crypt Lord. He slew the High Priest of the Thousand Maws, and let in the undead hordes to the temple. All who had fallen in battle with the Scourge, mmmm, they returned to us. Our honored dead in the crypts, they were raised as minions of the Lich King. Mmmm, the traitor king, he is called now. Anub'arak: the Last King of Azjol'Nerub. He lies there now, waiting for the word of his master to march upon the mortal realms once more. Mmmm. See to it your own kingdoms do not fall in such a way."
"We drove out the Forsaken," Ron growled. "Lordaeron is cleansed of their filth. Once we have dealt with Arthas, we will track them down and slay them all."
"Mmm, a good plan. And yet, you travel with an undead in your midst. Mmmm. Troubling."
All eyes turned to Crok, but the Death Knight ignored the stares. He seemed to be seeing something that was not there, suddenly stopping and drawing his axe. "They come."
Harry's senses were baffled by the constant motion of the undead somewhere close by, but he soon realized that a large party was closing in on them. He drew his sword and shield, moving to guard the parties rear as Maraad and Crok stepped to cover their front. A moment later, nerubians began to swarm down the passage, identical to their guide in every way, save one: they were all dead.
Harry let the Song of the Naaru surge within him, and the Light filled him and flowed out of him, sanctifying the very ground upon which he stood. He hurled his shield at the onrushing foe with all his might, and it bashed in the head of one charging nerubian, then rebounded, snapping back onto his arm. Then the foe was upon him. The undead were weakened by the holy ground, and that gave the mages and shaman time to act. Fred and Ron stepped forward, sending a wave of flames down the passage Harry was defending. The nerubians died with snaps and pops of cooking, but no cries fo pain or rage. One undead crumbled to the ground at Harry's feet, and with a sigh, said, "Free, at last," then moved no more.
Behind Harry, George was aiding Crok and Maraad, conjuring up a ball of frost that slowly hovered up the passage ahead of them, freezing Nerubians in place so that Crok and Maraad could easily crush them. Impa canted a spell that summoned healing waters spirits that soothed and refreshed the party. Harry sliced and bashed at the undead that came at him, but after only a minute, the passage went silent once more, save for the panting of the party and the soft hiss of flames.
"Mmm, mmm, you are strong," Kilix said, dropping down from the ceiling. Harry looked up to see several slain nerubians dangling from silken webs Kilix had spun, the claws of the spider warrior covered in black ichor. "That is good. Perhaps you shall defeat the Scourge after all. Come. We have far to go before we can rest."
They continued through the tunnel down into the city, traversing a crumbled wall into a series of narrow passages through the undersections of buildings and through back allies. Several times they stumbled upon undead nerubians, but these were quickly dealt with. Harry felt as though he were going made, with the twists and turns they made, the constant presence of the undead like a ceaseless gong in the back of his mind. The constant peril weighed on all of the party, even Kilix, save for Crok who moved forward with a dull relentlessness that did not change even when a party of Scourge ambushed them once more.
"Foolisssh morals!" a giant undead scarab like nerubian hissed when they entered into the basement of an abandoned temple. "This land belongs to the dead!"
Kilix let out a his of shock and tried to back away as the crypt lord advanced along with a dozen lesser undead. Harry, however, sprang forward, raising his shield and calling upon the Light to send out a shock of holy magic that burned one undead to a crisp, and slashing at another with his sword. Ron came beside him, roaring in rage and swinging his mace that crackled with flame. Aesuga bit into the undead champion, driving him back for a moment. The crypt lord was not deterred for long, and brought his giant scythe like arms down to decapitate Ron. Harry managed to interpose himself, blocking the blow with his shield, but was driven back as Ron swore and tried to bring his mace around for another blow. Two more undead attacked from the side, slashing at Harry and Ron and wounding them both.
"NO!" George and Fred blinked into the melee, the twin mages back to back as they raised their weapons. A storm of fire and ice engulfed the small room, forcing Harry to raise a protective barrier of Light to shield himself and Ron. The lesser undead were shredded by the display of magical power, and even the crypt lord lost a leg. It struggled to right itself and lash out at the two mages, but Ron hurled a ball of fire at the tear in its armor. With a pop and sizzle, the crypt lord fell thrashing, and Harry stabbed it in the head, putting it to rest at last.
"Are you wounded?" Fred demanded, hurrying over to Ron.
"Not bad," Ron grunted. "Mostly got burned by that bloody stupid stunt you pulled."
Fred flushed and drew herself up. "Well you could at least say thanks you stubborn fool! You were nearly overwhelmed! If you would bend your bloody neck once in a while and ask for help, maybe you wouldn't have-"
"Enough," George snapped. "Come on, we can't linger here. Maraad and Crok drove off the undead that attempted to flank us, but more will come soon. We must hurry."
They continued through the city, following Kilix down several blind turns in through several bolt holes. At least, they slid down a well shaft to a hidden room half way down. Inside was a nest made of spider silk, along with urns of fresh water and bundles of edible fungi and salted meat of an unknown origin.
"There are wards on this cave," George observed, running his hands over several glowing runes. He made a face and spat to the side. "Foul things though. We will be hidden from the Scourge, but by the power of the God of Death."
"Mmmm, yes, yes. These places, created by the priests to allow our people a refuge. The Scourge will not find us here, as we sheltered in the Thousand Maws," Kilix said, rummaging through the cache of supplies.
"Hmph. Don't know what bloody good it will do you," Ron said, sitting down on the ground and pulling some salted pork from his pack. "That god is dead. I helped kill Yogg Saron myself."
No sooner had the name of the Old God left Ron's lips, then the warding runes seemed to flash, and whispers filled the cave. Ron leapt to his feet, eyes wide, as he raised his weapon as if to ward off the voices.
Kilix made a chittering sound, a noise like spiders crawling over old parchment. "Mmm, killed the Thousand Maws, did you? Well, even dead gods can dream. Mmm. Best not to speak the name of the Ancient One, least you draw it's ire, godslayer. It remembers, and it hates." Kilix chittered again, before crawling into a cleft in the wall to nibble at at a bit of fungus and dried meat.
Ron sat back down, looking pale, his pork forgotten on the floor. "Oh bloody hell."
Impa gathered up the meat, wiping it on her trousers, then putting it in a pot she and Harry and brought, along with some dried vegetables and additional meat. She lit a fire, and Harry filled the pot from an urn, making a simple stew. After a few minutes it was done, and Harry served up portions to all the party members, who accepted it quietly. Kilix seemed interested in the stew, sipping at it and making a humming noise as if he enjoyed it. Crok however, refused a bowl.
"Do you not hunger?" Harry asked. "We have plenty. Eat."
Crok eyed Harry for a moment. "I do hunger, fleshling. Though my hunger is one that can never be sated. Save your rations for the living; the damned cannot sup on mortal food."
Harry acquiesced, going back to sit with the others. Maraad was quiet, offering a silent prayer before eating mechanically. Ron's eyes were unfocused, and he kept flinching as if he heard voices no others did. Harry talked quietly with Impa, while Fred and George kept to themselves. When the meal was done and the bowls rinsed and stowed away, Impa went to sit beside Fred.
"You told me something once, and begged me to keep it silent. I have, but I wonder why. You knew Harry and I would be wed, didn't you?"
Fred glanced at her brother, but George closed his eyes and lay down as if to sleep. Fred licked her lips, then nodded. "I mean, anyone with a pair of eyes could have figured that out. Right, Maraad?"
"It is so," Maraad agreed, a slight smile on his lips. "Ever since Harry arrived at the Exodar, he has gone everywhere with Impa. Even when she was sent to Draenor, he found a way to accompany her. And when Harry was sent to Northrend, Impa found an excuse to join him. It did not take the Prophet's insight to foresee that future."
Fred let out a nervous laugh and nodded. "I mean, yeah. I just...saw the sparks flying. You two were meant for one another."
"How'd ye earn yer clan stripes, lass?" Ron said suddenly, his eyes snapping back into focus. "Yer brother's dressed like a chinaman, but ye've got highland garb. Where'd ye come by it?"
"By blood," Fred snapped, then sighed. "Look, you know we're with Chromie, right? Surely you can put two and two together."
Ron cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing. "I've had visions of the future, ye know. That bear man...he was dressed like a chinaman too."
Fred's eyes suddenly went wide. "You...you saw the future? You saw a pan-a bear man?"
"Aye. Yog-that is, the Old God, showed me strange things. Harry dyin' with this Quel'Delar being given to Impa to pass to their child. Hermione turned to a demon and betrayin' her friends. And me, with a bear man, fighting the Scourge in some strange place."
"You are a prophet of the Thousand Maws?" Kilix asked, interrupting the conversation.
Ron glanced up at the Nerubian, who's dozen eyes glowed strangely in the light of the small campfire. "I am no a prophet. I did no want those mad visions, and I think they're a pack of lies. That thing can no be trusted."
"A prophet...mmm. Interesting." Kilix's eyes slowly faded back into the recess, and Ron shuddered slightly.
"Just what are the two o' ye?" Ron demanded of Fred. "I've met six o' ye and the dragon, Chromie. Ye from the future or some nonsense like that?"
"Not your future, Ronald Weasley," George said, not opening his eyes from where he lay. "That is all you need to know. Your visions were false. They will not come to pass."
"I weren't talkin' to ye, blondie," Ron snapped. He looked back to Fred, who looked incredibly nervous. "I think I know who Llane is, or at least Varian does. Midna I might have puzzled out as well, and Rosalind, well, ifin I guess right that's bloody disturbing. But ye two and Jasyn the night elf, I haven't a clue. Who are ye, and where, or perhaps when, do ye come from?"
"I'm telling him," Fred said abruptly, glaring down at George. "He has a right to know. So do Harry and Impa. Lucy be damned."
"Sure, if you want to trigger that Weasley stubborn streak and ensure he does whatever he can to make sure whatever you say doesn't come to pass," George replied, cracking open one eye. "You know how Lucy is, and how Aunty was. I'm sure that will work out well for you."
"Oh, fine. But I'm telling him...something!" Fred looked up at Ron, her brow furrowed. At last, she nodded. "Look, you know there were others sent here with you, right?"
"Aye. Khadgar said six. Harry says the Prophet Velen claims the same. But I know of only four. Ye know the other two?"
Fred chewed her lip, eyes looking back between Ron and Harry. "Do you know Neville Longbottom?"
Harry and Ron exchanged startled looks. "Well, yes," Ron admitted. "Haven't thought of the fat bastard in ages."
"Ron!" Harry protested. He shook his head. "Are you saying Neville is here, in Azeroth?"
"Yes," Fred said firmly. "He's with the night elves. Right now, he's somewhere in Kalimdor, training as a druid. We haven't been able to track him down, and it's driving Jasyn and Lucy mad."
"Who is this Lucy?" Impa suddenly asked. "You keep referring to her, but we know of no Lucy."
"Proof that my sister should keep her damn mouth shut is what she is," George muttered to no one in particular.
"Is she someone else from Earth?" Harry asked. "I don't recall any Lucy's, but then again I'd never met Ginevra either."
"She's one of us," Fred replied. "You do know her, or at least, know of her."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "You talked like she was Lucy Weasley. She supposed to be my wife or something?"
Fred's mouth flopped open, and George developed a sudden coughing fit. Ron grinned wickedly. "So I guessed right, did I? Wait, is she a bear lass? Because bloody buggering hell I am not marrying a damn bear."
Fred's mouth clacked shut, and she rapidly shook her head. "Lucy isn't...she's not a bear. And she's not...well, I guess from a certain point of a view she's a Weasley. Bloody well acts like it sometimes."
"Most of the time," George corrected, having recovered from his coughing fit.
"So that's me future wife then," Ron mused. He nodded. "Well, bugger that, I see any bint named Lucy I'm bloody well zapping her and telling the bitch to sod off."
"See, I told you," George murmured.
"Oh Light save us," Fred groaned. "Sometimes, I really, really don't like you...Ron."
"You spoke of Neville Longbottom," Impa said. "That makes five. Who is the other?"
Shaking her head, Fred lay down. "I'm not bloody telling you now or Ron's likely to make it his life's work to kill her."
"So it's a her?" Harry mused. "Hmmm. I wonder if it's someone else from Hogwarts? Maybe Lavender or Parvati?"
"Oh, Lavender would be a right fit bird by now," Ron mused. "Wouldn't mind bumping into her. Unless she's gone mad like Hermione. Hey, if I promise not to kill her, would ye tell us?"
Fred made a very rude gesture, and rolled over.
Crok stood suddenly. "Get some rest, fleshlings. I shall take the watches. I do not sleep."
"That is wise," Maraad said. He paced about the camp, setting small wards around the party. "This should shield our dreams,and alert us if the undead do approach."
Harry and Impa retreated to a small corner together, and the others studiously ignored them. As they lay in their blankets together, Impa drew Harry close and whispered in his ear. "What do you think of these six strangers we have met?"
Harry shifted to look Impa in the eye. "I don't know. They seem to be from some sort of future. They have strange knowledge and motivation. But...but one sticks out to me. You recall Midna?"
"How could I not? She has my mother's name," Impa answered, tracing a finger over Harry's chest. "She looks odd, for a draenei, does she not? Her horns are small, and her skin has an odd cast to it. And her hooves...she always wears those boots. What draenei wears boots?"
"I wear boots," Harry replied without thinking, then blushed. "Well, I mean, I think of myself as a draenei, but I know I am not-"
Impa silenced him with a kiss, then drew Harry yet closer. "You are my draenei. You know, one thing Fred said to me, is that I should name our child. What do you think of that?"
Harry groaned as Impa touched him, rolling on top of her. He didn't say anything, letting his actions afrim his agreement.
After about six hours, Crok awoke the party. "You have rested long enough. We must be on our way."
They climbed up out of the well on a rope of spider silk Kilix spun, cautiously making their way through the tunnels. Harry kept right behind Kilix, trying to keep his senses on alert to detect more ambushes, but he was continually filled with the dread of dozens of undead all around them, just behind a wall or above them. They walked in silence and near darkness, only using the barest of lights to avoid attention.
"Mmmm, now the dangerous part," Kilix told them as they approached the exit to a tunnel beneath a bridge. "We must enter the Temple of Volazj, Harbinger of the Ancient One. To do so, we cross the bridge. Through the temple is the tunnels that will lead under Icecrown, mmm, towards Illidan's Doom. We must be cautious. Mmmm, Scourge do not enter the temple, but keep a close watch upon it. Quickly and quiet now."
Kilix scrambled up the slope, leaving behind a line of web that the party swiftly came after. They had reached the midpoint of the bridge when an odd, reverberating clattering sound filled the cavern, echoing off the stone of the temple and the walls of the cavern.
"My, my, my. So this is the little group that's been playing with my spiders. I'm impressed: for so few, you have come quite far."
Harry's senses suddenly went wild as he felt the movement of hundreds of undead. He raised his sword, letting a ray of light illuminate the area. At the end of the bridge stood a tall, pale figure in fine robes, clapping pale hands with long talons. Blood red eyes gazed at them, and the mouth of the figure was half upturned in a twisted smile.
"San'layn," Harry gasped, raising his shield.
"Oh? So you know my kind, then?" the figure bowed. "I am Prince Taldaram. Oh! You must be those paladins who slew my brother, Prince Valanar. I must thank you! We of the Council of Blood are always looking for ways to forward our own power, and while our master has forbidden us from slaying one another, Valanar was too close to a powerful artefact for his own good. I sense...yes...you carry the hilt upon you, do you not? Excellent."
"I'll rip your spine from your body and beat you to death with it," Crok growled, stepping forward, axe in hand.
Taladram snarled and took a step back. "You! A Knight of the Ebon Blade are we now, Crok? Do these mortals know what you have done? What masters you have served?"
Crok remained silent, slowly advancing towards Taladarm. The prince shook his head. "I may thirst, but I am not fool enough to fight you alone. Minions! Do not let this fool approach me!"
Out of the darkness swarmed hundreds of undead nerubians, coming at them from all sides. Harry took an involuntary step back, but Crok planted his feet, raising his axe above his head. "I chose this path, Taladarm. I'll put you down like the whimpering dog you are!"
Suddenly the ground began to quake as dark tendrils of necrotic magic rippled out of Crok. From under the bridge crawled the skeletons of many long dead things, from Nerubians to bats to large spiders the size of hounds. The undead Crok had summoned scuttled forward, meeting Taladarm's forces in a wave of bone and chichen. The undead began to tear each other apart, and Crok waded in, swinging his axe in wide arcs. Whatever he felled rose again, turning on its former allies.
Behind Harry, more undead came across the bridge from the rear.
"We'll hold them off!" George called, raising his staff and summoning a blizzard. "You press forward! Kill their overlord! It will weaken and confuse the Scourge for a time!"
"Go! We'll catch up!" Fred called. She infused several Scourge with flame, which exploded when they were hit by George's ice spell. The fiery bombs spread like a disease, wiping out ranks of the undead as Fred frantically cast new ones at key points in the enemy ranks.
Maraad was the first forward, his hammer sweeping the path before him free of undead. "For Argus! Forward the Light!"
Impa and Ron followed behind Marad, Impa calling down a thunderstorm that sent healing rains upon her allies while bolts of lightning crashed into the nerubians. Ron lashed out with bursts of flame, striking at the larger crypt lords that tried to force their way through Crok's mounting wall of undead. Kilix had vanished, but Harry had no time to worry about their guide as guarded the rear, preventing any undead from circling around and attacking his friends from the rear. He hacked with his sword and bashed with his shield, calling upon the Light to cleanse the ground under them and cover their retreat.
The undead seemed endless, but for every one that fell, Crok raised it up again. Soon Harry's party was no longer under constant assault, the undead now locked in furious combat with one another. Crok waded forward towards Taldaram, who was trying desperately to raise his own troops as fast as the Death Knight was.
"I will feast on your remains!" Taldaram hissed as Crok approached, the San'layn lept forward, dodging Crok's axe and sticking his fangs in the undead orcs throat.
Crok ignored this, ripping his foe away so that a dark trickle of congealed blood ran down his now shredded throat. "Weak. Just like your master. Tell Ner'zhul I'm coming for him in hell." Crok slammed the san'layn to the ground, crushing his skull with his boot.
The undead spiders continued to tear at each other for several minutes, their fury slowly dying down until only a few confused Scourge wandered the battlefield. Ron and Impa destroyed them with a few spells, and Fred and George came over, panting and drained after continuous casting spells for several minutes.
"Thank you," Maraad said to Crok, leaning and his warhammer. "You are quite skilled in combat."
"Let me heal you," Impa offered, extending her hand towards Crok's wounds.
The orc shook his head. "Avert your eyes, fleshlings. I shall heal my own wounds, and it shall not be pleasant."
Harry was unable to look away as Crok lifted up the corpse of Prince Taldarm and began to consume the flesh of the other undead. The Death Knight ripped and tore like a wild beast, even cracking the San'layn's bones and sucking out the marrow.
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, taking a step back. "That's vile. Where does he even put it all?"
Crok finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned at Ron. "I do not gain sustenance from the flesh of my foes. Instead, I use it to heal my own wounds, and power my own spells. It is better with a fleshling's blood and guts, but a powerful undead like Taldaram will do, unskilled as he was."
Harry felt ill and turned his head away, retching on the ground. Impa patted his back, her face twisted in disgust. Fred and George alone had turned their backs, and Harry overhead them quietly discussing if they should just kill the Death Knight. Even Maraad looked sickened, but before they could process what had happened, Kilix crawled out from under the bridge and scuttled forward.
"Mmm, the two legs survive. To use the weapons of our foes against them...mmmm, it is effective, but blasphemous. Come. We must enter the temple."
Crok shouldered his axe and strode forward after their guide, and a moment later, Harry followed, Impa at his side, her hand on his back to comfort him.
"We should purge all the bloody undead from the whole damn world," Ron muttered. "I don't care if the Death Knight's say they're on our side. We'd be better off rid of them."
"We would have died back there if not for Crok's help," Maraad observed, but Fred and George nodded at Ron's words.
"First sensible thing you've said this whole trip," Fred said, nodding to Ron. "Maybe you're not completely stupid after all."
"Yer spell work wasn't too shabby," Ron grunted. "Maybe you're not as useless as ye are ugly."
Fred's eyes widened in anger, but Kilix turned his head and hissed at them. "Mmmm. Silence in the temple. The Scourge does not enter it for a reason."
The party fell silent, climbing up the black steps. At the top was a black door carved with thousands of dripping maws full of teeth, at the center of which were two burning eyes surrounded by tentacles. The air felt thick and heavy, and the eyes seemed to follow Harry's every move, boring into his soul.
"Come, Prophet of the Ancient One. We enter the hallowed halls of the Thousand Maws Herald. Mmmm, let his chosen prophet lead our way," Kilix said, bowing to Ron.
Ron blanched, but stepped forward, pushing the doors open, revealing a black, seemingly endless hall that seemed to bend and twist so that the floor ended up to the walls in a spiral.
Harry took a deep breath, and followed as Ron stepped into the maw of madness.