The Romancer Greatfather Winter

Episode Seven:

Where have you been? Winter's Veil is nearly over and we're running out of time. How am I supposed to tell you the rest of the story with only a few moments left in the season? The expansion you say, what's that? Greatfather Winter has no idea what the Burning Crusade is, and honestly, I don't want to know… sounds like horrible stuff. A Blood Elf paladin you say, a Draenei shaman… no, I don't want to hear about all the time you spent with these strange people. You came here to hear my story, didn't you? Well, dammit be quiet for a second while I tell you how this all ends. And then, I promise you'll have plenty of time to get back to this crusade thing you keep going on about. Young people these days…

First off, I know the old god Zar'teaus to be perhaps the loneliest soul in Azeroth, even worse off than Opalbane. However, Zar'teaus is hardly someone…something--look I don't know how you refer to an old god-- but he's not a good guy at all, not by a long shot. And I don't mean this in the too charming for his own good kind of way. I mean in the evil villain overdue for his comeupings kind of way. Figuring out just how low to put Zar'teaus on my Naughty list was a challenge this year, but I think I got him a punishment that will set him right in the long run. I hope that it's enough:

On the Eve of Winter's Veil, Adeiline walked triumphantly up to her master's windstone in Silithus and knocked. She had a letter in her hand.

Just like the last time, the clever Undead told the old god that he had a letter before she asked him for anything else, which ensured that Zar'teaus did all his recitations, took his fel capsules, and counted the rotting fingers on both her hands in record time. Then, with a final wave of her hand, Adeiline studied Zar'teaus whirling pupils and nodded, satisfied.

"Yes, you still have some vision in the lower left quadrant of your right eye. That's always good."

Zar'teaus was not convinced. "I lost more skin yesterday. I hope someone intends to replace it before I catch a chill. This really wouldn't be a problem at all if I just had my high priestess!"

"Now, now Zar'teaus. I believe you'll find this letter comforting in that respect." Adeiline droned on in her Gutterspeak accented Common. "Perhaps the shadowpriestess writes because she hopes to come back to you soon. Or maybe one of our agents in Darnassus, or Stormwind has finally contacted her like we've been requesting and she'll be on the first transport back here."

For grumpy people, those who are optimistic can be irritating. For a melting old god like Zar'teaus, a gangly Undead woman who had not one reason to smile but still managed it was more than exhausting.

"Give it here!" Zar'teaus snatched the letter from his servant, and began to read.

At first, it seemed like all the usual stuff. Opalbane wrote that she missed Zar'teaus, commented on the rainy weather in Darnassus. Then, she went on a very long tangent about how she had started her alchemy again, and went into detailed specifics about a certain unstable mana potion recipe she soon hoped to try. In short, it didn't really sound like the desperate and volatile Opalbane that he knew so well. And then, as if on cue with his suspicions, Zar'teaus noticed that the spaces between the lines of written text were far too big, and as he kept reading, he kept focusing on the white space more, until finally he found himself reading an entirely different letter. This was a letter within a letter, written in a kind of invisible ink, between the lines.

…Clever, isn't it? One of my finest ruses yet, I'm proud to say. The necklace you sent was harmless, but the fel magic did something fairly interesting when combined with ink, just as the druids predicted. And I am currently using your own secret weapon against you. There will be no secret communication between yourself and the Priestess Opalbane. By now you're catching on, I hope, so we can get right down to business.

You, my disembodied friend, have found yourself on the other side of a line that few men dare to cross. Those who do don't live for very long, or if they must live, they don't live such comfortable lives afterward. Sending spies into the heart of Darnassus, I don't mind. It's happened many times before in the past, and one like me learns to live with them. That is, they are either watched by my rogues, or turned. Such was the fate of your Evenstar. However, I do not take kindly to strangers--no matter how old and powerful, or how immortal and pathetic they are--making a pass at my woman. That's right, Priestess Feathershine belongs to me, and only me. I don't care what she says, or what anyone else says. I've been working on her for years, and no one… NO ONE ruins my plans, do you understand?

Consider yourself ruined Zar'teaus. Not only have you gone too far—and I've been watching you for years—you've tried to hurt the woman I love by attempting to destroy her foster daughter Opalbane. Never before have I had the perfect opportunity to declare war on you, but it seems that this Winter's Veil, you've made it easy for me. It matters little to me that you sent the love note to my Feathershine in error, or that hers went to you by mistake. In either case, you meant to hurt my love in the long run, and I cannot, and have never stood for that kind of meddling.

Normally, I'd keep Evenstar happy as one of my agents and give him no reason to reveal that he's betrayed you. But this is far messier than that, and I won't wait years and years for Evenstar to outgrow his usefulness while I plan my next delicate attack. Evenstar has been gotten rid of, and consider this fair warning that I have an inside man tracking down the rest of your sorry cult's agents elsewhere among the Alliance. And his contract assures me that these people will all be discovered and dead by month's end.

Go ahead. I encourage you to sound the alarm. Overwhelm my people that you suspect, clog the streets of Stormwind and Ironforge with Twilight Cultists. If they think that gathering in large numbers will protect them, I encourage you to take the most drastic action you feel necessary.

But know this, whatever you do, I will do a hundred times better, and you will soon find that you are utterly hopeless against me and my agents.

With that said, enjoy your Winter's Veil. I promise you that it will be your last.

Master Rogue Shadowstep of the Cenarion Enclave, Darnassus.

And, as if that weren't enough, Shadowstep added at the end,

P.S. Obviously, the priestess you are looking for does not reside here in Darnassus. Though, it is comforting to learn that you clearly have no idea where she is. It will remain that way until I see fit.

The old god Zar'teaus held the letter in shaking, but melting hands. He held it up to the sallow yellow sunlight of Silithus and the paper crinkled and buckled, then finally tore apart as he trembled with rage.

"Master? Are you alright?" Adeiline asked, astonished.

But Zar'teaus didn't answer her. He looked to the north, to where he knew the letter had come from.

"I swear I will get out of here… with Opalbane or not… and his head will be the first to roll, that damnable Shadowstep!" Zar'teaus roared through his gray rotting jowls.

Pretty good I think. It was the gnome's idea to leave that old Qiraji necklace out in the sand just outside the cultists' camp so that Adeiline would find it. A lot of people don't know that fel magic is not just for turning people into demons and cultists. It's also great for removing evil stains, or in this case, it turned ink invisible. Of course Zar'teaus would try to send Opalbane a vial of invisible ink so that they could keep talking. And… of course Shadowstep would figure it all out and trick Priestess Feathershine into sleeping with him for nothing. One of the lady gnomes in my group assured me that sometimes, a woman needs to feel like love is being given out of true kindness with no strings attached. It sure wasn't easy figuring out how to fix it so that the man she desired, Shadowstep, would give her just want she wanted. As for Zar'teaus and Shadowstep, the both of them deserve to be enemies, at long last. While one man is in for more than he can really handle, the other is about to learn what godlike wrath is really like. Think you know which one is which? Well, you're pretty smart then, because in my opinion, it could go either way.

Okay, now I'll tell you how I fixed that perverted Onyxbane…

Hey! Where are you going? Outland? That place is out of my jurisdiction, I can't follow you there. Just how do you expect me to tell you the last part, then? I can't shout it through the Dark Portal, you know.

Excuse me? What did you just tell me to do? Alright, you're going on my Naughty list too. Oh, and you too, I see you laughing back there. I swear, I've never met such rude people in my long immortal life. And no, I will not roll a Blood Elf and join you in Eversong Woods, nor am I going anywhere near Azuremyst Isle. Why, do you ask?

Because Greatfather Winter is factionless! How the heck do you think I'm able to do all this stuff! Hey, hey! Get back here!

Author's note:

Okay, a bit of a corny ending to this second to last episode, but this turned out longer than I thought it would be. The following episode will be the last one, I promise. Oh, and thanks again for reading this sequel to The Romancer Onyxbane. The third in the series is called the Romancer Opalbane, and I will update it as soon as this one is finished next week.

In the meantime, enjoy the Expansion!