The Ritual
The warrior paced impatiently across the underground sands, gazing down upon the frail elven forms in the distance. He knew, of course, that these were not typical Elves at all, but in fact Bronze Dragons in a humanoid guise. "Though I am unable to access the Hyjal timeline," a deep voice began behind him, "if there were one among us that could, it would be Soridormi, consort of the Timeless One." Ghaku grunted as a notice that he understood. His eyes still red with battle lust, the orc's rage had not calmed since the disappearance of the troll shaman that he held so dear. The slightly smaller orcish form behind him was characteristically silent after the previous events, her mind calculating a hundred plans, each of them more desperate than the last. Rhaka sighed, only wishing that it was nearly as simple most of her assignments of assassination. Transcending space and time to a specific point which was already under heavy duress, however, was typically anything but simple.
Light blue eyes observed the warrior quizzically as he approached. "You're not supposed to be here," she began, bluntly. Ghaku's face had become none the less angry and became more furious still at this. "I am not! But neither was she!" he cried out. Soridormi tilted her head to the side, as if asking a question. "Ahh, your 'mother', you're right, none of this was supposed to have happened." Behind the two, Tiridormi began to say something quietly, in if to disagree, but quickly stopped herself. "Of course, now that it has happened, there is something we can do," said the consort of Nozdormu, "though it will be anything but undemanding of the both of you," pointing at the orcish twins. It always was as such for the warrior and the rogue. The pair nodded. "Are you two familiar with the Vials of Eternity?"
The man's bones jingled as if to a merry tune as he strolled through the dark, dying land of Tirisfal. A tall, pointed purple hat sat calmly atop his skull as the corpse hummed quietly to himself, he could have been seen as almost cheerful if his face had not frozen in to an unusual frown upon his rising from the grave, many years previous. Demonic hounds and malevolent zombies wandered throughout the forest lands that surrounded the man, though few were foolish enough to assault the dead man walking. "Ah, here comes one now…" he whispered to a small figure walking behind him. A howling pierced the air as a brutish red hound bounded up the path towards the man. A short, squat, oddly shaped being hopped up in front of its companion, the man with the pointy hat, and began to cackle as its hands filled with flame. The hound had barely reached the pair when fire erupted from the giggling person, incinerating the malicious dog to a crisp. "Well done, Dagrot," the undead man said, clapping softly for his Imp minion. Dagrot grinned wickedly, as imps were wont to do when they had performed particularly cruelly. Resuming the slow walk, the two continued on in to the hamlet village of Brill.
The once boisterous human populations, the inhabitants of Brill, were a sour, bitter lot. Most of them having quite lost their sense of humor and much of their personality after their unfortunate death to the plague of the damned, it was understandable that the citizens of Brill were not the most cheerful people. The warlock, however, had lost neither and considered himself more alive than he had ever been. As he calmly strolled in to the inn, all eyes turned upon him. The warlock quirked an eyebrow as if to challenge their stares (which nobody saw, of course, because the hat covered it, but that never stopped him) until the bar patrons turned back to their sorry drinking. A coughing sound from the entrance caused the dead man to turn around, coming face to face with a Forsaken Deathstalker. "Message for Aesgar Reth," the Deathstalker stated plainly, handing the warlock a worn, used envelope with an unusual signet formed on it. Aesgar didn't need to open the letter; he knew who had sent it. He sighed, "I'd hoped we'd have a chance to stay, Dagrot. Back to Lordaeron we go, the wife will probably have gotten the letter too…" Elsewhere, in the grassy foothills of the Orcish homeland of Nagrand, a great beast of a Tauren sat calmly, speaking to the wind and the earth as it would listen. A diminutive windroc flew up beside the druid, an envelope far too big for the tiny bird to carry in its beak. The tauren's eyes grew stormy and concentrated as his massive, black-furred hands opened the missive. Nodding at what he read the druid jumped in to the winds, already becoming a great, brown crow in flight.
The woman fidgeted impatiently. Light turquoise hair was tied in a neat bundle at the top of her head above the pale almost-white skin that was the rest of her body. Where there would typically be eyes was instead a pair of green glowing lights. Her priest's robes brushed against the stone of the Lordaeron courtyard. Once a pleasant place that signaled the entrance in to the formerly great kingdom of humans, the courtyard was now just as dead as the inhabitants of the city that grew beneath the earth of Lordaeron. Hearing what might have been the approach of another, the woman's head snapped over to the source of the noise. No, it was just another one of her visions, she determined. Then the real sound came, the heavy jingling and crashing of massive plate armor could be audibly heard from a great distance, and the woman knew that this was who she was waiting for. "Of course they'll be here, brother, how could they not be just as worried?" a woman's voice quietly echoed through the courtyard. Coming in to sight was the largest pair of orcs that the woman had ever seen.
Eyes open wide (probably because she had no eyelids with which to close them) the woman waved frantically at the pair. Rhaka smiled at her, "Elusin! Is your corpse husband here as well?" the rogue asked. The priest shook her head to disagree. "He's probably bringing the cow in…" came Ghaku's rumbling voice, gazing upon the smaller woman. "Elusin. You look less… dead… than I remember. Still just as crazy though." "And you're still just as ugly as I remember!" returned the undead woman, speaking for the first time. The warrior stroked his well-groomed beard, as if to say that he believed himself to be anything but unattractive. A soft jingling accompanied heavy footsteps coming in through the gateway, and soon Aesgar and his druid companion appeared in the courtyard. "Why hello there," began the dead man walking. Rhaka waved cheerily at the Tauren, "Rage!" she exclaimed, trying to reach her arms around the massive form in a bear hug. Rage Earthfury grinned, he'd always had a soft spot for the tiny (tiny to him, at least) rogue. "I hate to interrupt the merrymaking and jovial conversation, you know me, but I do believe we have some business…" rattled Aesgar's skeletal voice.
"Lost… back in time? And you people think I'm crazy…" Elusin said, interrupting Ghaku's retelling of the events that had gathered them. Taking a moment to stare down the dead woman, jade warrior resumed his story. "The Vials of Eternity, hmm." Rage pondered out loud, "This is known to me. Each vial holds within it a part of the Well of Eternity, the Well which was fractured at the battle of Hyjal. An artifact, each one of them, I can't imagine where we would find such objects." Rhaka coughed uncomfortably, all eyes upon her, "We do. But it is bad."
Elusin couldn't help but laugh out loud at what the rogue told her. "Oh, so that's it, is it? Just stroll in to meet Illidan's lieutenants and ask them to give up their most valued possessions! I haven't slept in seven years, and even my head is clear enough to know what insanity this is!" Her husband, though, said nothing, quietly thinking to himself. "It is the only way to enter the cruel battle where our mother is trapped, the only way!" Ghaku rumbled to her. "I don't believe this is a sound course of action, there must be another," calmly said the Tauren Druid, choosing his word slowly and carefully, "If we try and fail to retrieve said artifacts, then we have given up any chance of extracting Tiji from that ordeal." This arguing continued for quite some time. "Bloodrite," Ghaku exclaimed, "we'll use the armed forces to assault the Tempest Keep and the Naga's cavern!" But his twin shook her head, "They've devoted their attention to storming the Black Temple, they cannot spare a soldier at this time Ghaku."
Suddenly, the warlock raised his head from his thinking, "This one, the dragon." The others clearly had no idea what he was referring to, "Tiridormi, this one is unknown to me." Ghaku stared at him, "All of the Bronze are all mysterious and whatnot, of course she's unknown…" but Aesgar cut him off, "I have spent considerable time among the Caverns of Time, my friend, and this one is unusual even among her flight, from what you have told me." Rhaka sighed, "What's that have to do with any of this? We need to get those vials if we're to accomplish anything!" Aesgar's typically morose face was alighting with a grin, "No. I do not believe we do." The other four could do nothing but stare at the dead man. Aesgar quirked an eyebrow slyly, though of course nobody could see it beneath his pointed hat.
"As you know, I have delved deeply in to the magics of the Damned, and among these is the practice of summoning, something which I am quite proficient in," began the warlock. But Rage cut him off, "What, are you going to summon the Vials?" Aesgar grinned, "No, that would bring their holders along with them," seeing the stricken look from his companions, "Not that I doubt I could accomplish something of that magnitude, that was not my plan. The Infinite Dragonflight needed no such vials to enter through the doorway to Hyjal, yes? Then we shall do as they did." Ghaku bowed his head, his previous rage abating, "What do we do?" The warlock gazed fondly at his wife, "A seer, among other things. Yes, there is much we will need for the Summoning Ritual…"