Mitchell shivered. He had seen all of this before. The room they were in, the stairway leading beyond it into the innermost chambers of the Sunwell Plateau. They would find Kael'thas, in the middle of a summoning ritual. Enlyhn and Timmons would make cracks about a mage trying to be a warlock. They would attack him, kill him, but it wouldn't be enough. The damnable elf would use his blood—his and Sham's, though hers had been a mere bonus—to summon Kil'jaeden. The demon would demolish them, killing Gore easily as he was overcome with grief and rage.
The guild would fall.
He didn't realize he was yelling for them to stop until twenty-three pairs of eyes were on him. He floundered as he realized he wasn't sure how to explain what he'd seen. It wasn't as though it had been easy to get this far. The biggest pain had been the corrupted naaru which had stood in their path. M'uru had been a bitch to down, but after that, things had gone well enough. Even the remaining four elves who utilized the mastery crystals had been nothing compared to that hellish naaru. But this...
Margaret put a hand on Mitchell's shoulder, only to withdraw it as he jumped at her touch. She cocked her head. "What are you so afraid of?"
"Something goes wrong. Something goes really, really wrong."
~"~
As Mitchell tried desperately to explain himself, a man in gold and white robes stared down at them from the rafters which arched high overhead. He looked human enough, save for the bronze glow of his eyes and the way a strange ticking started every time he fidgeted—not that he did such frequently. Rather, his gnomish companion was far more animated than he was. The little woman, in the same robes as the man, let out a soft chuckle.
"Interesting that a mortal would remember our reset. It shows that we've chosen well."
The man frowned and leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand as he rested his elbow on a knee. As he moved, the space around him rippled and flickered, as though it weren't sure that he ought to be there. "I half think that was a waste of magic."
"Allowing Kil'jaeden to live is not a path this time is to go in, you know that."
"You just want them to be your heroes," he muttered, still watching the raiders below. Mitchell was drawing a detailed picture of the room ahead, hell-bent on proving he wasn't crazy and that they need to listen to him.
The little gnome laughed and motioned toward the raid group below. "Can you blame me? They're practically doing our job for us. Already time is moving in a different path. We may not even need to step in during their fight, to tip the scales."
The man merely scowled.
"Why are you so against this lot?" the gnome asked, plopping down beside him and swinging her legs back and forth as she watched Haa'aji stealth out in front of the others and come back to tell them that Mitchell was right. The air hummed like the droning of a pendulum as she moved. She clucked when her partner was not forthcoming with an explanation. "You just don't like the Horde."
"I have no qualm with the Horde. I don't like that so many of these fools are quick to abuse any type of power given to them. With what you're thinking of asking of the lifebinder...you'd be creating monsters."
"Ah, but they're loyal to their leaders. Unless something truly unforeseeable happens, they won't betray us. Again, you know this."
"The infinite flight knows it as well," he muttered. "And I'm sure they'll be quick to poison their minds."
"The lifebinder is not a fool," the gnome countered. "She'll place proper restrictions on them, I'm sure."
Rising to his feet, the man brushed a few wrinkles from his robes. His companion watched him for a moment before he realized that he hadn't spoken about leaving yet. Being in so many timelines at once could do that to a person...make them forget whether they'd had their conversation yet or even whether they'd argued or agreed with a matter, based on what might or might not have happened yet.
"I doubt both of us will be needed to watch over them...as you said, time is already moving in a different direction."
The gnome shrugged and looked back down at their charges. "Do as you want. I'll call for you if I need help."
~"~
Sham frowned. Mitchell had gone over what he'd seen about to happen nearly twenty times, but for the life of them, they couldn't see how anything could truly go any differently. If Kael'thas was really summoning Kil'jaeden right now, he wouldn't be quick to chase after them if they tried to draw him away from the Sunwell. Rather, he would probably ignore any attempts at his attention and keep at his task. And there was apparently some sort of shield around him, to protect him from something so simple as an arrow through the throat.
And then there was the whole accidentally helping him thing by unwittingly sacrificing themselves. Sure, perhaps Sham might not be the one to die per se, but there was a damn good chance someone would.
It was the explosion that forced them into action.
Ditching their strategies and concerns, they ran toward the next room in time to see magic pouring out of the Sunwell and Kael'thas lying crumpled against a wall, holding his side. He stared up with a mix of awe and pride. As he heard the guild coming, he glanced toward them, his eyes barely glowing any longer, and allowed himself a fleeting smile when he saw Wren and Sethyl.
"My people...we...will regain our glory now. Kil'jaeden will...lead...lead you into an age...like you've never...seen..."
Even as the prince slouched forward, dead, Sethyl got the worst sensation that he was being watched. He and several others turned slowly and felt like mice caught in a trap as they stared at Kil'jaeden. The demon was leaning over the edge of the Sunwell so that his face was close to the ground, his breath easily ruffling the paladin's hair.
In a quick motion, the demon reared back and swiped at them. Even as Mitchell called out what little he remembered the demon doing in ways of attacks before he had succumbed to death himself in his mysterious vision, the whole of them spread out and readied to kill Kil'jaeden.
~"~
Lucas Johnson, better known to the world as Lisp thanks to Haa'aji, strolled into his guild hall and frowned when he saw that it was empty. Without breaking his saunter, he walked over to one of the walls covered with notices regarding Alliance standings and movement, and peered over the foremost papers. Five guild mates were gone to eliminate the human presence in South Shore, once and for all. Thirteen had teamed up with another guild in an attempt to storm Darnasus—he suspected they'd be recruiting again soon for that one; there was a reason the night elves had lived so long—and eight had gone on a scouting expedition of Stormwind. Another twenty had headed out to Alterac Valley.
Lisp frowned. Hadn't they claimed that area almost a month ago? The Alliance must have come back with force.
Sometimes he missed his raiding days. At least when he and Impervious had killed Ragnaros, the creature had stayed dead. The warfronts were always shifting; no victory was ever absolute.
It could be a bit depressing.
Renza'shi Venomsplint and Murk Darkwrath came in a few minutes after the rogue, still laughing and joking about the time they'd had hunting their enemies in Winterspring. They were equally surprised to see that their guild hall was empty and looked around. Renza'shi dismissed the absence of their guild, hopped into a chair nearest the door, and lay his weapon across the rounded table.
More than a dozen of such tables speckled the room, with a makeshift stage/podium to one side, where Taknar generally stood to give his speeches. Most of them were either honoring someone who'd done particularly well in battle, or shaming someone who had fled. Granted, the someone in question for the latter was generally already face down in an unmarked grave while he condemned their actions, as very few took such a dishonorable action lightly.
Murk walked to the back of the room and pinned an Alliance banner up onto the wall. They'd eliminated nearly a dozen of their elven enemies on their latest run, including several particularly angry ones on their way back through Felwood. Lisp counted them lucky; they'd been outnumbered, and if Murk weren't as skilled a healer as he was, they might not have made it out of that little adventure.
He and the orc headed back over to Renza'shi and collapsed into chairs of their own, content to sit in a calming silence. Even with their guild out on missions, there were other war guilds they could hit up, if they wanted to charge back into conflict.
For the day, they were happy to relax. After all, if they spent every waking moment in combat, they would become careless.
They'd barely seated themselves around the table and settled into a comfortable silence when they heard hefty boots thudding into the hall. While all three of their minds immediately went to Taknar, as he was the largest, non-hooved, shoe-wearing member of the guild, they were surprised to see Garrosh Hellscream standing in their doorway when they looked up.
He seemed a bit taken back by the emptiness of the hall, though he nodded, somewhat satisfied, to himself that they were all no doubt fighting the good fight for the Horde and then focused his beady eyes on the three in front of him. Even as they offered hesitant greetings—none of them were completely sure what level of honor to give the mag'har orc, as rumors were spreading like wildfire that he would be an overlord in a movement into Northrend, though he hadn't officially taken such a title yet—he merely frowned and invited himself further into the hall, though he stopped in his tracks when Renza'shi motioned for him to take a chair. The orc's eyes swept the hall again, as though looking for some hidden room or trick wall.
"Your leader is not present?"
Lisp had risen to his feet, and he made a sweeping bow. "I am afraid he is away for the time being." The forsaken motioned to himself and the others. "We've only just returned ourselves, or we would most likely be with him."
Garrosh eyed the rogue for a moment before rolling one of his shoulders and looking down at him, as though he thought the creature's metallic voice was meant to hide some truth from him. "Of course."
Renza'shi frowned and readied to defend his guild mate, though a sharp look from Murk stopped him. The orc rose to his feet as well and saluted Garrosh quickly. "If there is anything that requires fighters, we can round up a group for whatever the cause."
"That won't be necessary just yet," Garrosh murmured. He inspected the shaman giving him a simple nod. "Have Taknar come to me as soon as he returns. I would like to discuss something important with him."
"Ya be needin' fa us ta send word fa him ta return as soon as he can a dis be a matta dat can wait...?" Renza'shi barely masked the suspicion and curiosity in his voice. Was the Alliance planning an attack on Orgrimmar?
The troll paused as he felt the mag'har's glare upon him. "While it may be important that I speak with him, the Horde will not topple overnight should I not see him immediately. Whenever he returns is fine."
With that, Garrosh bid them well, though he barely looked in Lisp's direction again, and walked away as quickly as he had come. As Lisp and Murk slipped back into their seats, Renza'shi drummed his fingers against the table. "Wat dat been 'bout, Ah wonda."
Murk simply shook his head. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."
His troll friend eyed him. "Ya realleh content ta jus' sit hea, not knowin' wat he be up ta?"
"Perhaps he's just trying to see if he can get a full guild to come with him to Northrend?" Lisp offered, though he clearly wasn't entertained by the notion. While that metal jaw of his made it hard as hell to read his expressions, his shoulders were more slouched than usual, and he seemed unnerved by the way Garrosh had been so quick to look down upon him.
Renza'shi eyed first Murk and then Lisp and then slowly stilled his hand, though he said nothing. As the other two sunk into their own thoughts, he ran his fingers through his hair and then looked around the room, as though he might find a note regarding Garrosh's actions scribbled on one of the walls. When his guild hall proved to be the same room it had always been, he hopped to his feet, shouldered his weapon, and sauntered over to the notice board.
He tried to focus on the little words printed across the papers—half of them had at least one corner caked in dried blood—but it was to no avail. His mind kept wandering... He glanced over his shoulder and frowned as he looked down to see Murk standing beside him. Lisp still sat back at the table, though he was clearly interested in whatever was going on in Renza'shi's head as well.
The troll slid a step away from the orc, who in turn raised an eyebrow. Renza'shi looked about, and abruptly brightened. "Ah bet Ah know who be havin' an idea 'bout dis mess, yeh?"
Lisp just rolled his eyes. "Leave it be. I doubt the warchief wants us snooping around in Garrosh's business."
Renza'shi shrugged, a grin settling on his features. "If dey know sumtin, dey alreadeh finished wit' dea snoopin', yeh?" He nodded to Murk. "Wan ta go see who be at Whispa's Vials?"
The orc rolled his eyes and turned his attention toward the board. "I'll pass. If it's something we need to know, we'll hear about it from Taknar soon enough."
"Wateva, mon," Renza'shi offered them an offhanded wave as he headed out.
Murk sighed as he watched the warrior's figure disappear out the door and then walked back to Lisp. The forsaken stared at the door to their hall, looking as though he wished to follow suit, but didn't want to succumb to such whims. They tried to resume their earlier carefree rest, though Renza'shi had struck their curiosity—despite their attempts to ignore it—and it wouldn't leave either of them alone. If anyone would know what was going on, it would be Haa'aji and while he probably wouldn't tell them, if Liila or Timmons were around, they might.
Less than ten minutes after the troll had left, they were both too agitated to enjoy their well earned break. With a sigh, Lisp hopped lithely to his feet. "Let's follow him."
~"~
Liila had not been the 'friends' Haa'aji had been referring to in regards to dealing with their void reaver. She had waited almost two full days for the shady individuals in question to take the giant and all of its spare parts into their care before hitting the warlock coven in Orgrimmar up for a summons.
While most everyone had to deal with the backlash of making bargains with warlocks of any kind, Liila always managed to get out of it. Namely because she walked away before they could try to ask her for anything and then blatantly ignored knowing them if they came to her later. One would think this would make the warlocks loathe her and more than willing to leave her stranded. However, it had the opposite effect. Anyone who had the balls to ignore the fact that they could tear their soul apart on a whim deserved a bit of respect, if not pity for their foolhardiness.
Liila had trotted away from the summoning circle without so much as a thank you, and the warlocks hadn't expected one, instead almost immediately resuming whatever dark secrets they'd been toying with earlier.
With everyone else gone and little else to do, she'd sent Haa'aji a best luck wish on his raid and opened up Whisper's Vials.
Liila had always thought she would feel him before she would see him. The man who had ruined her: Derik Bloodsworn. The man who had beaten away every memory of whatever life she'd had before the Scourge had gotten a hold of her—be it miserable or happy. The man who had spent months carving his curse into her flesh and healing it over, so that she couldn't tamper with the runes, as she'd tried to in the beginning.
She still had scars on her shoulder of the outline of the first rune he'd attempted to brand her with; she'd managed to find a sharp object while he was off tormenting other creatures and had dragged it through the cuts to negate their magic. Unfortunately, he had returned before she could put herself out of her misery and had been less than pleased with her handiwork. She had spent the next few months paying for her insolence.
After all that he had done to her, it would seem like his mere presence would have been engraved into her memory.
She hadn't even felt the temperature of the air drop.
She'd opened shop and gone about making a few adjustments—checking the usual potions to make sure they were labeled correctly and that no one had switched them around, and fixing the few that Sham hadn't been able to figure out after Timmons' latest meddling.
As she'd moved a potion that made one's skin temporarily fall off and left them as a skeleton—it was a popular potion and highly addicting, especially considering how painful it was to have one's skin grow back and reestablish nerve endings—she turned and came face to face with him.
His nose was broken from where Shadow had nailed him in the face, a little over four years ago. Other than that, he looked just as she remembered him, just as she saw him every time she closed her eyes. Lips blackened from rot, and hair matted with the blood of his victims. How had he gotten this far into Orgrimmar? He had been a human in life, and he did not have the stoop of a forsaken.
He seemed to catch her thoughts—she often suspected he had some way of seeing into her head, namely because of how well he'd always been able to crush any hopes she might lay claim to—and his lips spread into a slow, wicked grin.
Catching her by her hair, he whirled about and slammed her into the counter, shattering part of the display glass and sending herbs scattering across the floor. Liila took in a sharp breath as some of the glass embedded itself in her side, but didn't scream. She knew better than that. It was what he wanted.
Liila tried to scramble to her feet and go on the offensive, but the curse that flickered, ever just beneath her skin, gleamed to life and paralyzed her, following its master's will.
Over the years, bits and pieces had been dismantled by various groups—the furbolg, the druids of Moonglade and Silithus, the goblin mages of Everlook, shamans from Thunderbluff and Orgrimmar, even a warlock coven or two had offered insight into what parts of the curse might do what—but even diminished as it was, it was still enough to blur her senses and leave her helpless as she grappled with overcoming the overwhelming pain. Blood pooled on the floor near her head as she bit her tongue, willing herself not to scream.
The death knight stood over her, looking almost bored. "Heal yourself."
When she refused to comply, he made a motion with his hand, one she recognized well. He was calling on specific parts of the curse to answer his will. She couldn't help a pained smile as nothing happened. Bloodsworn frowned. Before he could fully register that his handiwork had been tampered with, Liila jerked shakily to her feet and called the shadows of the shop to her enemy, binding his feet as she tumbled out the door into the open air. If she was going to fight that bastard, it would be where others could see to help her.
Even as she spotted Piikiitwo a few buildings down, snapping playfully at a banner that was just out of its reach, she felt a plated hand grip her arm and jerk her body backwards and her shoulder out of its socket. She let out a low hiss as Bloodsworn jerked up her sleeve, apparently too appalled by her lack of obedience to worry about the possibility of being seen.
Like her back, blackened scars in the shapes of death runes ran across her skin almost from wrist to shoulder, with a harsh white scar running along the centers, interrupting the damnable brands.
"You really aren't an elf anymore, are you?" Bloodsworn sneered, jerking her arm awkwardly behind her as though to assure himself her shoulder wouldn't accidentally slide back into place. "To let someone scar you so badly..."
She could hear the calculating tone in his voice. He knew that some of his curse was still intact, though he wasn't sure how much of it. His grin slowly returned as he shoved her into a wall. He pressed harder, and she could feel her bones beginning to crack. As she instinctively gasped for air, he leaned to whisper into her ear, "Can I still kill you as many—"
Bloodsworn let out a cry as he was abruptly tackled from the side by Piikiitwo. The raptor clawed ineffectually at his plate, only to let out a wail as the death knight brought his sword up and into the creature's side.
Liila threw a healing spell onto her mount, though she watched as the light flickered unstably, not wanting to follow her will. She frowned and did her best to put a few feet between herself and her tormentor as she tried to remember all the unfortunate side effects of her curse.
The light wouldn't easily recognize her call so long as the death runes remained active. How could she have forgotten that? It was the reason she'd first turned to the darkness to begin with.
Piikiitwo seemed to pick up on her distress and paced back and forth frantically on Bloodsworn's other side, as though unsure if it ought to go to its master, or just attack their enemy.
Even as it tried to rush past the death knight toward Liila, only to jump back again as Bloodsworn tried to cleave it in two, a sharp cry came from down the street. Bloodsworn looked up and cursed under his breath, finally realizing how open he'd left himself. As his gaze swept the area for something to use to his advantage—seeing as his pet was so rebellious—a blurred figure rammed into him, sword first.
Bloodsworn slammed into outer wall of Whisper's Vials and spat blackened blood into the dirt. Renza'shi attacked again, not giving the death knight time to assess his situation, though he had to jerk back quickly as the death knight cast black runes upon the ground.
Renza'shi gave Liila a wary look as the earth itself seemed to rot beneath the magic of the Bloodsworn's attack. She didn't say a word or even acknowledge his presence, her eyes ever on their adversary. The look in them made him shiver. Such hatred.
While Liila could be mischievous and even a little mean from time to time, she had a good heart, if not a sad one. She was used to pain and used to disappointment, but despite it all, she was trusting. He had never seen someone work so adamantly to assist others, even if it was in exchange for assistance herself.
But he'd never seen her hate anything. Never even a passing reference had elicited such a dark response from her. For a moment he was lost, though the way her sleeve was caught upon itself, slightly folded upward to reveal the lowest of her scars... It was common knowledge that Liila was cursed.
Renza'shi barely managed to dodge the death knight as he launched an attack at him.
This man had to be the one who had damned her.
Renza'shi brought his sword up and swung. Bloodsworn stopped his advance, though not quite soon enough, as the blade sliced across his throat. The knight collapsed to the ground, his black blood spilling and tainting the barren soil as Renza'shi hurried over to Liila.
Even as he came up to her, Liila stumbled to him and pushed him back. Renza'shi sucked in a sharp breath as he saw Bloodsworn's sword plunge through the little elf's torso. A gurgling cackle escaped the death knight, though it was somewhat distorted by slit across his vocal cords.
It seemed that all Renza'shi's attack had accomplished was to silence the man.
Fucking undead.
The world seemed to move in slow motion. Bloodsworn jerked his weapon out of Liila, blood splattered to the ground mere seconds in advance of the elven woman's corpse. Piikiitwo screeched in anger and lunged at the knight. Bloodsworn whirled around and caught the creature in the air, slicing its head from its neck.
Renza'shi blinked and parried the death knight's blade as Bloodsworn turned his attention toward the last of his adversaries. The ground beneath his feet erupted into rot, and Renza'shi cried out as disease slithered over his skin and slowed his movements. Just as he was parrying another blow and trying to dodge backward and off of the festering ground, a dark flicker caught his attention, and he couldn't help but look to his side to where Liila lay.
Dark runes flickered across her body and pulsed in unison, and she took in a ragged gasp, her face instantly contorting in pain as the injury that had killed her remained. Bloodsworn's blade slammed into Renza'shi's shoulder as he watched his elven friend writhe in pain, trapped in her broken body.
The troll fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder and trying to stem the blood flow. Bloodsworn raised his sword to finish him.
The death knight sucked in a gasp as a dagger slammed into the side of his neck, and a chain heal hit both of his would be victims. Lisp narrowly avoided when the knight attempted to swing his sword around and nail him. In that instant, Renza'shi darted up, slicing his weapon into the death knight's leg, hoping to dismember the bastard.
Even as Bloodsworn attempted to fight back, the shadows cast by his armor began to glimmer and slither across his body, pinpointing his existing injuries and digging into them. Murk had run up to the fray, and as he threw a few more heals toward his guild mates, he looked to see if Liila was alright. She still sat, crouched to the ground, the blue of her eyes shifted to black as shadows flickered over her skin, and he left her be, not wanting to interrupt her spell casting.
While Murk diligently worked to keep the others alive, he couldn't help but wonder where in the twisting nether the guards were. Someone should have patrolled past them by now. He looked around to where the grunts were normally posted and found their places empty. They'd been there earlier, when he and the others had returned from Winterspring.
What in the worlds was going on?
Bloodsworn seemed to understand that he was going to be beaten. With a hiss, he slammed his sword into the ground. The air itself seemed to fill with disease, sending his attackers flying backwards and interrupting Murk and Liila's efforts. Even as the four struggled to bounce back, they found a fading death gate where Bloodsworn had been standing.
As Murk cursed and yelled to his guild mates, asking what in the nether had just happened, Liila stared at the space where her tormentor had been, expression blank. Lisp caught sight of her and began to walk toward her, though he paused as he watched her slowly realize that the bastard had really gotten away. Her face twisted into a look of pure rage, and she let out a scream, shadows pooling where the knight had been and spiking up into the air, as though they might be able to call back their target and bring him to justice.
The other two jumped and looked her way to see that she was still seething. However, before she could slip into the shadows and try to make it through the death gate to follow after Bloodsworn to finish him once and for all—not that she knew if she even could by herself—two pale blue arms wrapped around her shoulders.
"It be okay, mon."
Liila was taken back to when she and Haa'aji had first met, and she stilled, her breathing slowly coming back under her control. She looked up, half surprised that her rogue was absent and instead Renza'shi knelt beside her. The pains of her curse were fading, and she felt her senses returning to her. Of course she couldn't follow Bloodsworn now, the paths were gone. And even if they weren't, she had no idea what she'd be walking into.
She heaved a ragged breath and forced herself to her feet, though Lisp and Renza'shi both caught her shoulders and spoke at once, suggesting she go inside the shop and lie down. Liila ignored them as her gaze swept over the road and stopped on Piikiitwo's corpse. Her lip quivered as though she might cry, though she merely walked past the others and knelt next to her faithful mount, reaching out and resting her hand on it.
Finally, she found her voice. "How did this happen?" When no one responded, she turned an angry glare toward them. She'd abandoned her monotone. "How the hell did he get so far into Orgrimmar?"
Murk shook his head, starting toward the gates. "I'm wondering the same thing. Come on."
Though she looked mournfully back at her raptor, Liila rose to her feet and followed the others.
As they drew closer to the Valley of Strength, they could hear the sounds of fighting, and they picked up their paces. Ghouls were everywhere. Civilians cowered behind vendors' overturned wagons, and it looked like every grunt and adventurer in Orgrimmar was caught up in trying to repel the undead. A few skeletal casters sent frost bolts into the fray, freezing enemy and ally alike.
Even as the three from Blood and Honor charged into the fight, forgetting their fatigue to defend their home, Liila sent a quick message to the rest of Impervious before letting shadows consume her and following suit.
Orgrimmar is under attack.