Sint's heart was pounding. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, her adrenaline spiking. Her breath grew heavy as she stood atop that tower, looking to the amassed forces of darkness. This rush wasn't out of fear; no, Sint felt exhilarated. For some reason, as she stood above an army that would've frightened any reasonable human, she couldn't feel the connection. Flame whirled around her, her stance strong and her heart even stronger. Aranor attempted to reason with her, to stop her, but she decided what she had to do. No man, no monster, no god could tell her otherwise.
Darkness writhed around her, in throngs about a dark tower she obliterated. She was a colossus among the many. And she did not fear. Grip tightening around her spectral banner, she looked to them as the clamored for her. She spoke, her word boosted by the same spiritual strength that conjured both banner and flame around her, "I have offered you mercy! Give me your leader, and you may be spared! If in battle your master cannot slay me, then you shall retreat to whatever pit you surged from. If, however, I die… then you get what you want."
"It is not an offer I make lightly. If in the next few moments I do not see your leader, I shall rain fire and death upon everything you know. I shall torch the evil from this land." There was a candor in Sint's voice that told this new Black Legion that she was not bluffing. In their hearts, they knew that she was going to leap from that tower. What they did not know is the outcome of this play. Some assumed she'd be devoured by chaos, but the wiser soldiers started to murmur their assumptions. If she could so easily stand before them, unbent and untouched by darkness and fear, then perhaps there was merit in her threat.
And to Overseer Thuller, he felt her threat was very real. He had seen what Sint could do. So, he began to retreat through the crowd, almost becoming invisible. That was until he was pushed. More and more hands started to push Thuller forward, until he found himself back where he started, this time with a wide berth formed around him. Thuller turned to snarl at his soldiers, "The Hell are you doing?!" His snarl was short lived, dying in his throat. Hesitant, he slowly turned his head to see that she was looking right at him.
"This is your leader?" She canted her head, leveling her sword to his position. Thuller held his own blade up, matching her glare.
"I am Overseer Thuller of War Camp Toth'ag! The Dark Lord has given me oversight of this land and these warriors. It seems they have thrown me to the dogs! If it makes them feel better, after I'm done peeling your flesh from your bones, I'll see to it that they're next!" He spat to the side, "But, you! I knew you'd be here, Lord-Commander. It's no marvel to me that you'd come to finish your war, but where are your soldiers? I expected the Blades of Dagon, not some motley crew of rag-tag rogue rangers!"
Her answer was the banner she held being thrust into the ground in front of him, a massive burst of energy knocking him from his feet. Flung backwards by the tremendous force released from her toss, Thuller almost lost his nerve as he tried to get back up. But he was an orc! He was a loyal warrior of Hellscream's legacy! If he was to fall this day, he was not going to die like a human babe. No! He was going to die in a blaze of glory, so that his true master could greet him with pride in the afterlife. If he was to die, Sint Dagon and the entire war camp was going with him! As he felt another tremor run through the ground, he leapt to his feet to see Sint Dagon standing before him. In one hand she held that banner, in the other she held that gleaming silver blade. With a tremendous roar, Thuller cleared more space for the battle to commence. He felt the eyes of thousands on him, wondering how he'd stand up to her. He spun on his heel, fleeing in the other direction.
This was to the shock of the others, who roared out that he was a coward for not honoring the duel. But he knew that those not blinded by honor or glory saw that Thuller was making the best of his situation. He was not going to tempt fate and take Sint on in a duel. The outcomes for that were much too hard to plan, and most of them were things Thuller was trying to avoid. As he ran from Sint, he wounded many of his own, his accursed blade spreading his will through them. When he fled from the ground, he had a small force to position counter to Sint's pursuit. He had a plan, but he needed time. He sprinted past the ruined tower, fleeing towards the ravine where the Mad Dragonslayer's Echo emanated from. Accursed minions were placed in key spots as he ran, but never did he look back to see if Sint had chosen to follow.
Indeed she had, but there were more than his own accursed minions standing in her way. Thuller stopped for a moment to catch his breath and spotted what was taking Sint so long to run him down. It was Vega and his people firing as much void magic as they had toward Sint. Almost heartwarming, Thuller gave a quick salute off in Vega's direction. Pacing himself better, the Overseer continued to his destination. Vega's people were doing well to keep Sint off of Thuller, their magic forcing her on the defensive for the time being. She still was slowly advancing through their onslaught, the flame around Sint nullifying most of the force being flung her way.
Vega himself stood atop a tower, side by side with his strongest spellcasters. Seeing his frontliners push against Sint's barrier was enough to urge him to consider new options, seeing that an onslaught wasn't going to hold her forever. The gilded ethereal called to his chief sorcerer, "Althar, start weaving an Aransi Snare behind my Champions. I want her stalled as long as possible, so we can see what our dear Overseer is planning."
The sorcerer named Althar pushed his energy past his wrappings, his arms splitting into many tendrils as chaotic energy flowed around him. This 'Aransi Snare' must've been a particularly rare and difficult incantation, as it began to break Althar's assumed form apart, returning the ethereal to a state of pure energy. Dark magic began to permeate the ground, appearing as webbing. Vega's champions passed over the snare undetected, leading Sint right into his trap. As she stepped over the snare, the webbing launched itself upwards to catch her legs, going no further since her purifying flame was still much too overwhelming. That was all Vega could ask for, unfortunately.
Keeping his distance from the radiating flame, Vega approached Sint as she ripped the snare off of herself. He nervously spoke, "Right, so. I can see why Overseer Thuller was whipped up into such a panic about you."
The webbing around her legs was quickly being torn apart, Sint herself paying little attention to it now. She looked at Vega, "I killed his first master, High Warlord Xagroth Blackfist. To him, I must appear as some sort of spirit of justice, haunting him wherever he scurries off to." She flexed her plate-clad hand, pointing it to Vega, "And I think, for once, I can agree with an orc."
"While I can see that some of our Dear Overseer's soldiers are roaches, scuttling beneath his shadow, I severely doubt that Thuller is among them. Your light hasn't scattered him. He must have a plan… Right?" Vega quickly glanced back, seeing Thuller's figure becoming harder to make out the further he went, "We're not being left to die. I refuse to be the fodder of a coward."
"Then step aside, ethereal. The Void took your homeworld, your physical body. Why serve it now? What good does it do for you to bow to Chaos?" Vega's attention was captured. He didn't see a drawn knife cut through the shadowy webbing he commanded to trap Sint, nor did he see that Sint was now approaching him. The intensity of her gaze, the finite truth in her words, the power she commanded. It was enticing to the bejeweled warp-stalker.
He waved for his Champions to stand back, "Stay with me a moment, Lady Dagon. I will not hold you for long."
"What good will that do me? I want Thuller, and he's getting away." Sint steps forward, now free from the snare.
"You know of the story of K'aresh. Of my people's downfall." He buzzed with energy, "That gives me some insight into what you've experienced. Pray tell, what members of my failing species have you consorted with?" Clicking his gilded talons together, he leaned in, "I am curious."
"The Consortium, originally. I don't know if she still counts herself in their ranks." Sint sheathes her dagger, "Altair of the Vagabond Convoy."
"Altair? I respect you more just by mention of the name. Her Convoy offers a window into the future I want for my people, a future unbound by rules and masters just as our forms are unbound by flesh and blood." He looks down, "I thought the Void was to be my answer, and for a while, it has been."
"What changed your mind? Don't tell me that our small conversation has changed your mind." She frowned, "I'd rather not learn that so many follow someone with such little conviction."
He lifts his hands, "No, no. You've just proven a point." He paused, almost as if he was composing himself, "For the longest time, many of my kin have used the power of shadows because it was the same strength that destroyed our home. We'd be fools to not attempt to master that darkness, to prevent it from being our bane again."
"Perhaps we were too hasty in our rationalization. The Nexus Princes play a political game, playing with money and lives atop their thrones. They bicker and struggle to be the one voice that decides the future of our species, fighting for power instead of the future itself. The Ethereum chose the Void. The Consortium chose money. The Protectorate chose war." Vega shrugged, "And many of us who were crushed beneath their heel, we chose freedom."
"Was it worth it?" Sint sheathed her sword, "Could you say that this freedom was worth everything you've done to earn it?"
"I wouldn't even say I am free. Like you said, I serve Chaos. I am a servant to the Void, whether or not I pray to it. Instead of a Nexus Prince, I have a Dark Lord." He shook his head, "That's not the future I see for myself, merely a slave to a warlord I don't even know. I see myself uncontrolled by law and rule, living a pure life high among the stars."
"Like the Vagabond Convoy."
"Precisely. It's my fault for allying with dark forces, I suppose." The ethereal stepped to the side, "Maybe this day is the day I can break free. Perhaps you can do a favor for me, and I shall leave your war. Could you send word to Altair?"
"What do you have to say to her?" Sint walked next to Vega, not yet revealing her back to the ethereal, "She is a busy woman."
"Does she have room for a few Ethereum who have gone their own way?" He wasn't hesitant in his question, "Vega would like to join the Convoy."
"She'd become a new master." Sint quirked a brow, "Unless you know something more than I do."
"I do. But I won't trouble you any further on ethereal politics. You've got an orc to catch." Vega snapped his fingers, a jewel in one of his claws flickering with magic, "And I have a bit of distance to make between myself and the Void."
"Don't get back in my way, Vega." Sint looked beyond him, off to her next target, "I don't give second chances."
"No sane person should." The ethereal's snap conjured a portal, a portal that closed when the last ethereal vanished through it. Thuller had made quite some distance between them, but Sint could see the path he took. Obviously, he planned to do something in the center of the War Camp, but what that was was hard to tell. Sint didn't know Thuller's skillset, nor did she know what the War Camp had in stock. What she did know, though, is that Thuller wasn't keen on facing her one on one. If he could, he was going to game their duel as much as he reasonably could. Considering the line of bloodthirsty minions in her path, he had already begun to do that. She, herself, wasn't planning on taking her time to face the Overseer.
She'd spent enough time chasing orcs to know that giving them any amount of time is an extreme risk, especially after her dealings with Thuller's previous master. Xagroth Blackfist was probably one of Sint's lesser foes she's faced over the years, but he was by no means a pushover. Because she battled against Gods and Demons doesn't mean a less than immortal threat would pose any less difficulty to her. Xagroth may have been an undead warrior-warlock from another time, but he was still much less than a divine aberration or a royal army and demonic army. Just how Sint was. It wasn't their manner of existence that defined them, it was their actions. While her actions had not been clean nor pure, she could at least see that she was the better mortal than the first master of the Black Legion. He was an abomination, a representation of conquest and greed made manifest.
Sint was War. She was death, struggle, chaos, growth, and the refusal to lose. She represented the force that should always meet evil, to never let it win cleanly. Her blade was bloody, her mind heavy, but she knew she was doing the right thing. And she enjoyed it. But Xagroth? He was Conquest. He was the thing that swept into wartorn lands and abused them, profiteering over loss and devastation. His fist was mighty, clutched around the coin and lives of the lands he broke. He didn't seek the defeat of a foe. He sought domination, subjugation, and the most terrible deeds any man, woman, or any other could make. Unlike the Lord, Xagroth didn't fight to survive. Unlike Vantel and Ord, the orc didn't fight for an ideal or any greater good. His was a blackened verdict, a monstrous decree. "All in my sights shall become mine or face a dire fate."
She could not sympathize with the Black Legion. All she could do was hunt them down, destroy them, and make it so that they could never repeat the atrocities they had already committed. She sprinted forward, not using the power of Dragonfire. In her path were some of the most dangerous criminals in Azeroth's history, forgotten because of a Dark Tyrant's decree. She didn't even feel like they were deserving of her sword. As blades swung towards her, javelins piercing the soil near her, Sint's heart began to pound again. Instead of her usual stoic approach to battle, she yelled out to the monsters in her way, fists clenched.
An axe struck out against her, swinging to intercept her sprint. It missed, for Sint stopped. She slid, leaping with all of the momentum she held. Carrying it, her metal-clad fist impacted with the skull of an unwitting undead. Crunch. Her fist shattered the top of the undead's skull, knocking it flat over with a sickening thunk. The others charged her, which Sint met with the undead's mace. A black cleaver, the same one that tried to strike her down, came again. Its haft was splintered by a well placed strike from her mace, Sint leaning into the strike so that she got close to the orc. Her elbow collided with his gut, a spear soon piercing the orc's body. As she felt more attacks landing on the now deceased minion, she began to realize that these soldiers no longer had a mind. And if they did, they were as base and vile as she thought they were. She took the orc's broken axe in hand, quickly shoving his corpse into an approaching troll.
The troll was crushed by the weight of the orc and the force of Sint's shove, giving her a brief moment to look for the rest of Thuller's minions. More undead, more orcs. Two archers stood atop towers, a spear thrower stood behind the front lines, with an orc wielding a massive hammer and a pair of what seemed to be ex-Dreadguard flanking him. Sint threw the axe the spear thrower's way, the weight of the object knocking the orc off his feet. She had a feeling that it wouldn't kill him, but less time spent getting away from projectiles was time well earned. Arrows were knocked, fired, and dodged. Two shield-bearing undead rushed her, boxing her in. And a heavy maul swung down, attempting to flatten her. Sint hooked her mace beneath one of the dreadguard's shields, pulling the undead her way. He was but a shield for Sint, as the mace squashed him like a roach beneath a sewer guard's boot. The orc struggled to pull his weapon from the forsaken's body, giving Sint a moment to rip the shield from beneath the corpse and throw it at the other shield-bearer. He blocked. Perfect.
His shield raised high to defend his head, he left his legs unguarded. A burst of Dragonfire flowed through Sint as she dashed to him, cracking her stolen mace against his knee. It crumpled. He toppled over, unable to hold himself up. She heard a wet noise and a crunch, likely the orc pulling his hammer from the other dreadguard. A shield would be raised to meet another strike, the orc's heavy warhammer colliding with metal. The force nearly staggered her, and definitely hurt, but the power within her kept her bones intact. The orc pulled his hammer back, taking her shield with it, as he swung again and again. Sint dodged and even rolled from his rampage, time the archers used to nearly hit her. Sint threw her looted mace to the side, picking up one of the dreadguard's swords. She ran forward, predictably so, leading the orc to eagerly try to smash her again. Even if his mind wasn't his own, Sint knew he would've enjoyed this either way.
She dodged to the side with a leap, grunting as she saw the spear thrower stand back up. There went her window.
The spear thrower howled in agony for a few seconds, much to Sint's surprise. His body jerked around, almost unnaturally so. The other three stopped attacking as this happened, giving Sint a short moment to take the other dreadguard's blade. Looking back, she saw what had happened to the spear thrower. Even though their mind was already claimed by an accursed blade, it didn't seem that was enough. Black smoke poured from their eyes, their skin cracked and marred by that same darkness. It was different to the violet gash that crossed the other mind-controlled Black Legionnaires. It was far more powerful.
They stopped to judge the black magic, to judge their fellow minion consumed by another force. Whatever had happened they didn't move to attack Sint as the spear thrower finally stopped jerking around, their body growing much more formal in stance than a feral grunt. He approached with a slight frown on his face. Said black magic even began to influence his held spear, it flowing with the same smokey energy. A powerful voice came from the throat of an orc that didn't possess one seconds ago, "Sint Dagon. What a surprise." He pointed to the dead soldiers around him, "When I felt the power of Thuller's blade being used against Black Legionnaires, I grew concerned. What could drive one of the Overseers to such things? I'm so glad it was you."
Sint spat to the side, a growl in her voice, "And you are? Do I have to worry about another mind-controlling mastermind?"
"I can only dominate the weak willed, or those without a will. Take it as the perfection of this Black Legion. These soldiers aren't people, they are tools for a greater will." He pointed his spear to Sint, "This army has become the ultimate vessel of conquest."
"If they weren't already trying to destroy my race, I'd be disgusted. I'm more curious, though, of who you are. Or, what you are." Sint lowered her stance, slowly pacing around her foe like a predator.
"I am your salvation." He lunged without a moment's hesitation, his spear coming down hard and fast against Sint. She deflected with one of her stolen swords, only to find that the orc was very fast and skilled with this spear. He almost seemed to pirouette from her parry, slapping the end of the spear against her arm. The sheer strength of his strike knocked Sint off balance, allowing him to dance into another powerful attack. The spear's head came toward a weak point in her armor, stopped just centimeters before impact. She brought both blades down, pinning the spear to the ground. He dropped it, his leg rising and cracking Sint across the face.
That hurt. Sint fell backwards, rolling back to stop him from crushing her skull with his boots. Blood streamed down her face, her nose a disaster site. She jumped to her feet, only seeing the orc grinning at her like an idiot. That pissed her off as much as it excited her, because it meant she didn't have to play nice to have fun with this enemy. He picked up his spear, "This body is worthy. It proves a challenge to you, Shadow of War."
"Lucky hit," She shook her head quickly, doing her best to get the world to stop spinning, "Won't happen again." A fearsome smile crossed her face as she wiped the blood from her face, " You aren't going to get another in."
"Really? Is that the impression you got from our little skirmish?" The orc took his spear in both hands, crouching into a feral stance, "You're just as confident as I remember you."
"I'll think about what that means after I'm done with this camp." She crossed her swords, sliding one across the other, "I don't think straight when I'm this worked up."
"So you enjoy THIS!?" He yelled, leaping and bringing his spear down towards Sint's neck.
She dodged to the side, his body now falling down towards her stolen swords, "HELL. YES." And so the spear thrower's body would be skewered on forsaken steel, Sint's taunt getting whoever piloted him to make such a risky play. But perhaps it was in the shadowy manipulator's plans to get the body so close to her, for the corpse began to bloat and tear apart with that same smokey force. Sint threw the orc's body as far as she could, the corpse and the swords in it smacking against one of the archer's towers. Just as soon as the spear thrower came into possession of a dark force, he was eradicated by a massive pulse of energy. Black and a pale green magic billowed from within the orc's body, detonating with tremendous force. The tower did more than fall, it practically was thrown from where it stood, the force even enough to knock the warhammer wielding orc off his feet.
Sint stood against it, using the momentary chaos to finish off the hammer toting goliath of a warrior. Finally walking to the body of the axe-wielding orc, she ripped a javelin from his back, and flung it into the last archer above. A ruthless victory, at little personal loss to Sint. She spat a tooth out, slightly winded from the intense fight. Smacking her cheeks in an attempt to reinvigorate herself, she looked forward to where Thuller sprinted off to. Another shake of her head managed to finally unblur her vision, "I'll have to ask Sion to grow me a new tooth. Third one this year… She will be one mad elf."
A loud and painful orcish cry came from Thuller's direction. Could it be that Thuller was being dominated by the same manipulator as the spear thrower? It couldn't be, could it? Thuller at least seemed to be strong enough in will to realize his odds in battle, to deny typical orcish customs for the sake of victory. Perhaps the Overseer slipped into the ravine, now that would be an imagine Sint could find herself laughing at. Nevertheless, she needed to find him, so she drew Rebellion from its sheath and continued her march. The few minions Thuller did gather in his flight were either dead or completely still as she passed, staring blankly into the sky with cold violet tinged eyes. Peculiar, but Sint wondered if that the accursed blade's owner perished, that his thralls were left in a docile state. She didn't worry much about them, only feeling sorry that this is how they died. Mind-controlled and left braindead. It wasn't a fate she would wish on many, for sure.
So Sint approached the structure, almost a temple, at the edge of Giant's Landing. It was immaculate and near Gorian in design. Perhaps it was used as a place of both worship and study of the golden energy that streamed from within the Landing, that or it was simply an egomaniac's choice for a study regarding magic that they didn't own. Either way, it was occupied when Sint arrived. But it wasn't Thuller that Sint saw first, no.
The same smokey black and green magic had left its mark in the stone that built up the statue, with the likely source being a figure standing near the very edge of the temple. Bound in a pale greyish green mist, the being seemed to be almost comprised of said power. It was covered in fine shining silver plate and a great flowing cloak that seemed to melt into mist. Its face was obscured by a beak-like mask, something akin to what Sint saw a long time ago on a dead doctor's face. It was said to protect from the plague of undeath, medicine and aromas held in the beak to ward of disease. Perhaps it saved the doctor from disease, but it did not save him from the afflicted. There were no weapons in its hands, no, the only thing it held was the neck of Overseer Thuller.
It twisted its hand, ending the Overseer before he got his duel with Sint. And as if it were but a nightmare, it vanished when Sint blinked. Things just got a helluva lot more complicated.