Chapter 7: THE BLACK SPIRITS

(Disclaimer is at the prologue of this story) Story may not be accurate to that of written accounts in various sources.


The Alterac Region, Lordearon

It took them a total of two days to travel in the beaten down paths through the Alterac Mountains. It seemed it was never used for at least a hundred years. This was advantageous for Rikimaru and Nortrom because their aim was to be isolated from society as possible. If anyone knew of their presence and their goals, it might endanger their lives and possibly the mission.

Ever since that event in the Undead camp, Rikimaru was determined as ever. He had woken up to find himself in the arms of his elf friend. Apparently, he had collapsed upon entry and was swallowed up by the darkness of the tomb. Nortrom recounted Rikimaru being spat out of the tomb. Nortrom had caught the satyr just in time.

The morning of the third day marked a beautiful sunrise. They had scaled most of the mountain range and they expected to see the ruins before noon. Rikimaru began to notice the downward slope which was getting steeper by the mile. They had to turn around before they reach a crevice or a cliff.

The two of them began their hike downward and around the steep slopes. The rocks and debris lying around made it almost impossible to have a safe trip to the bottom. Their estimations on reaching the city before noon were not exactly correct.

They ate lunch against a clump of trees because of the almost 90-degree slope down. They ate quick and in silence because this early, they felt the foreboding darkness of the area. Many had died here, many had perished in an all-too-necessary doom. This place seemed to have that spiritual presence.

They resumed their trek downward after packing their things. As they scrambled down the slope, the forest cleared up suddenly and an illuminating site filled their eyes. The majestic ruined gate of Alterac lay in front of them ten times their height. Beyond it, the rest of the ruined city was left in its devastated state. The presence of spirits here was far more overwhelming here than the mountains that surrounded the city. Here was where a long forgotten battle took place long long ago.

The two rushed down the slope at an exaggerated pace, excited to enter this strange land. They stumbled by the broken down front gate to inspect the ancient walls of Alterac.

Nortrom brushed aside some vines along one side of the wall. "We may probably be the first to enter this place since the Troll Wars."

"Be careful, Nortrom," Rikimaru said in an undertone. "This place may as easily fall apart."

Nortrom nodded and turned towards the gate. He crept slowly and looked through. He almost gasped. In front of him lay a massive wasteland, rocks, debris and old monuments litter the floor as if blasted apart by the Burning Legion. Now, Nortom could imagine what the world would look like if their world was indeed blasted apart by the Legion.

"What is it?" Rikimaru came slowly behind him. "Is it ―?"

Rikimaru's eyes grew wide as he began to take in the landscape. He drew a long deep breath. "What a place... what a place..."

"Are you sure you want to continue with this?" Nortrom piped up. "I mean, that vision of yours might mean nothing at all..."

"For the last time, Nortrom," Rikimaru piped back. "I know what I saw. It wasn't a hallucination or anything. It was clearer than anything I've ever dreamed..."

Nortrom sighed and gave in. Rikimaru better be correct with that vision of his...

They crept noiselessly onto the void, carefully making sure that the ruined stones remained untouched. The silence was infectious. It was pressing upon them like a giant hand squashing their very presence.

They arrived in the center of the city where a huge monument stood. It was tomb, a dozen or so meters high. It was ancient and great power emanated from within. For a long time, the two of them just stared at the monument drinking all the energies that seemed to seep from it. But soon their senses were starting to return.

Rikimaru stepped forward then hesitated. "Who should go in first?"

Nortrom sensed fear in his voice. He was fearful as well. "This place feels weird. I really should not have let myself be dragged by you..."

Rikimaru laughed, although it was obvious that it was a forced laugh. "We're here already, Nortrom. We have no choice but to move on. Our trip here will be a waste if we just leave..."

Nortrom sighed. He was about to reason out to Rikimaru when an audible splash reached their ears. It was a familiar sound with that of someone stepping on a puddle. Someone else was here, creeping up on them.

Instinctively, they pulled out their weapons, a glaive for Nortrom, a scythe for Rikimaru. Their eyes were wide and alert on any movements surrounding them.

They circled the tomb and found a wide puddle where apparently someone or something passed through. It was a muddy pool of water and the first thing that came into Rikimaru's mind was footprints.

"Nortom," Rikimaru whispered. "Let's look for tracks. It would've left some after skating over this mud..."

"You really think it's an animal?" Nortrom scanned the area around the pool, still aware of his surroundings.

Rikimaru shrugged as he bent over the mud pool, looking for tracks left by the thing. He saw nothing abnormal along the puddle. That was strange given that the splash really sounded like something passed through it...

Something moved pass Rikimaru's line of vision. It seemed to come from the pool itself. Curious, he checked the pool's contents. It was nothing but muddy water and some broken down rock sediments.

He resumed his scan for footprints but was almost immediately distracted by another disturbance from the pool. Something was amiss here. Something was going on within the pool. Rikimaru investigated the contents once more. The pool seemed to become less transparent. He couldn't see as clearly as he had a few seconds ago...

"Nortrom," Rikimaru said, thinking of a possible occurrence. But before he could continue, a loud splash came from the pool and a black transparent clawed hand emerged from its depths reaching out for Rikimaru's throat. Rikimaru blanched for a second before jerking away from the clawing arm.

"Rikimaru!" Nortrom called. "What's going on?"

The satyr lay still beyond the pool of muddy water as a ghostly figure erupted from within. It was nothing they had ever seen before. The figure rose and raised its ring of blades. With a swift motion, it struck and Rikimaru nearly got hit if he hadn't parried it with his scythe.

Nortrom yelled in an attempt to distract the creature. The figure turned around to Nortrom for a second before looking back at Rikimaru. Nortrom tossed his metal glaive with all his strength pouring all his thoughts and skill into it. There was a blast of light and the glaive was sent flying towards the creature enlarging itself in an exaggerated rate.

But it didn't hit the creature. Instead, it exploded in midair as if some barrier blocked the battle between the black figure and Rikimaru. Nortrom cursed and aimed another one at the creature.

Another black figure emerged from the explosion. It was the another creature with a similar form as the first. How many of them were they?

Rikimaru parried blow after blow from the creature standing above him. This event was totally freaking him out. Rikimaru reached into his mana pool and summoned energy to use his Blink Strike attack. In one second, he vanished; the next second, he sliced through the transparent armor of the creature straight in the back where the spine was supposed to be.

The creature knelt down and vanished into thin air. Rikimaru grinned. The creature wasn't as hard as he thought it was.

Rikimaru scanned the landscape for Nortrom and found him in a swords dance with another black creature of the same type. Rikimaru was utterly surprised. This was no ordinary pack of animals. These were assassins.

Rikimaru rushed to the fray and enveloped the area with a Smoke Screen hoping to buy time for Nortrom. It worked indeed because when Rikimaru reached his friend, Nortrom was already sending blow after blow against the creature.

Rikimaru summoned more of his energy and Blinked towards the creature aiming for the spine once more. He grinned as he struck but something unexpected came. Once Rikimaru's blade punched through the armor, the creature exploded!

The explosion sent the satyr flying through the air crashing into a pile of rocks. There was pain in his stomach as if he was struck in the belly by a knife.

Rikimaru fell to the ground, now unable to resist the pain. His last sight was the Smoke Screen disappearing and Nortrom falling to the ground.


For the past day, an Undead Battleship wove its way across Lordamere Lake. It was a private trip where the only occupants were the three Undead warriors, Abbadon, Leshrac and Balanar plus the ship crew. Balanar was a new addition to the Lich King's team and would prove useful to their trip to Alterac Ruins. The Lich, Kel'Thuzad, had struck a deal with the Night Stalker that he would be able to see the King once the Alterac mission was finished. Abaddon was not at all happy with this new addition to the group. How could the King favor Balanar more than he?

"My Lord..." the pained voice of the Tormented Soul erupted from behind Abaddon. "I know... what... troubles you..."

Abaddon eyed his ghostly companion with disgust. "So what if you know?! I wouldn't care less if you did!"

"He will... be disposed... of..." Leshrac said in a pleading sort of way. "The Nathrezim... are... the King's enemies... He.. would not want... someone like... Balanar... around."

"He would still steal some of our glory, Leshrac," Abaddon was obviously unconvinced. "He was not supposed to be part of this journey. Damn that Kel'Thuzad! He should not have dealed with one Dreadlord such as this!"

"He did... kill his mother..." Leshrac laughed shrilly but in obvious torment.

"Ah..." Abaddon grinned a bit. "That, indeed, is something to celebrate about. Sylvanas was becoming a nuisance. I thank Balanar a lot for exterminating that vermin of an Undead Elf."

"It was my pleasure, Lord Abaddon." Balanar stepped out of the shadows and spoke. "She was a stupid mother for trying to restrain the Dreadlord within me..."

"You really did hate her..." Abaddon laughed cruelly.

"But enough of my mother," Balanar spoke with a grin. "I need to know of our plan into Alterac Ruins..."

Abaddon looked at the dreadlord. "Plan? We need a plan? It's a desolate place, for Ner'zhul's sake!"

Balanar shook his head. "You are oblivious to the power of that place. Well, I expected as much, seeing that you two come from different worlds..."

"An empty city bearing power? Is that even possible?" Abaddon almost cried in exasperation.

"I have heard many tales from the mountain villages surrounding the ruins," Balanar sighed a bit. "The most prominent of all these legends was one of the Black Spirits. Tales speak of a mysterious tribe of dark ghostly figures called the Black Spirits. They haunt the ruins of the city and were said to guard the ancient tomb that lay within. These Black Spirits seem to channel forth a power allowing them to overcome any number of individuals crazy enough to stumble upon this ancient city. This is the true nature of the Black Spirits, an unlimited number of individuals sent to guard its ancient tombs..."

"I haven't heard nonsense greater than what you just said, Dreadlord," Abaddon said distastefully.

"Like I've just said earlier, I don't expect you to understand," Balanar turned to leave than paused. "By the way, I prefer the title 'Night Stalker', Master Abaddon."

Balanar walked away, leaving the Death kKnight speechless.


As the sun began dropping downward into the west, the undead ship anchored down by the coasts near Alterac. With this, the three heroes were able to set up camp in the old forests surrounding the city. They planned to attack in the dead of night, at the period when Balanar was the strongest. His powers, as the Lich animatedly tried to describe, were endless in the dark of night.

And they waited until the sun dropped out of the sky, to be replaced by the white luminescent sphere glowing besides the faintly lighted stars in the sky.

Balanar bathed himself in the darkness, all together stimulating him and producing the all-too-effective adrenaline rush. He winked at his two companions indicating that he was ready for the night's mission.

All throughout the trip to ancient city, Balanar kept ahead, moving in and about the bushes making sure no one strayed in their path. This was the night, his favorite time of the day. He was indeed the Night Stalker...

Thus, they reached the city in this fashion. They encountered no one along the way although once or twice, a feeling of some ominous presence presented itself to them.

The western gates of Alterac laid in ruins from the Troll Wars of long ago. Abaddon grinned; he loved the smell of death in war no matter how long ago it took place. Alterac for him was not a sacred ground but a ruined old city gone from the maps and history books of recent times.

Balanar swiftly went to their side. He had been scouting around the city for any sign of life. "My friends, I found traces of a struggle. They seemed fresh, only a few hours past. Everywhere else is as quiet as a grave."

Abaddon was interested in the fight that seemed to have taken place not long ago. "Where are these traces found?"

Balanar looked at the death knight. "In the center, besides a high tomb of ominous power. It was there that I also felt some great eye watching over me. Someone else is here besides us. I believe the story of the Black Spirits is true, Abaddon."

"Black Spirit or not, we shall deal with them," Abaddon was ultimately confident. "The Lich King is always with us."

Balanar grunted as if disagreeing with this statement. Abaddon missed the gesture. Leshrac however was busy checking the ground for something.

"Leshrac," Balanar called.

"I see... some strange... prints... on the ground..." the Tormented Soul voiced out. "It is... a creature... native to... this land..."

Abaddon immediately ran beside Leshrac and checked the tracks for himself. Slowly, he rose. "A troll came by. That's unusual. Trolls usually come in packs not individually."

Balanar shared this opinion. "That is peculiar. But this does not help our position. In fact, it might hinder us more."

Leshrac looked at the both of them. "Then... we must... move quickly..."

"I agree," Abaddon nodded. "Time is of the essence. We must look for this place where we could connect with the Ethereal Plane."

"I suggest the center tomb." Balanar piped up. "It spills of hidden power. I felt it pouring out, ready to be used..."

They all agreed to this plan and immediately proceeded to the tomb with speed. They reached the tomb in a matter of minutes and were on the verge of climbing through the threshold when the ghostly figure of a dagger came flipping out of nowhere.

Balanar spotted it first and quickly ran out of sight. The other two however were not quick enough. The dagger pierced through both of them and the sudden feeling of nothingness resonated within them. They just sat there crippled in their defeat as if the world was restricted only to the black void that had appeared along with the dagger.

Balanar stood there in the dark trying to sink it all in. What had happened?

But before this was answered a large shriek pierced the air and a lone ghostly figure escaped from the depths of the tomb. It was a black figure with a dark transparency frightening beyond imagination. It viewed its victims from the threshold of the tomb before stepping on the void.

With a speed only rivaled by Balanar himself, the Black Spirit beared down on the two fallen heroes beating them with its ring of blades. Balanar just watched as his companions weakened under the Spirit's blows...

Then a spark of energy surged through the Night Stalker jumping immediately into the void and onto the Spirit. With a clash of claw and blade, sparks ignited from the blow. With all of Balanar's might, he pushed the Spirit away from Leshrac and Abaddon. Hoping against hope that the black void that imprisoned his companions would eventually subside, he continued his assault on the creature. His fury startled the Spirit and soon forced the creature to flee.

Balanar let the creature go, grinning wildly on the easy victory. He turned around and was surprised to find the Spirit bearing down on him like a beast towering over its prey. How many were they?

Balanar jumped backward a long distance away before conjuring the internal void that he had once used on his mother to attack the Spirit. It hit the creature squarely in the chest before exploding in a cloud of mist.

Balanar ran towards his companions and was glad that now they were both standing up with their weapons out. They were fighting two more of the Black Spirits!

With a series of complicated blows, aided with the frosty power of his Frostmourne blade, Abaddon easily wiped out the Spirit. Leshrac, with his ranged attack and Split Earth spell quickly defeated his Spirit enemy.

Abaddon sheathed his sword and faced the Night Stalker. "How many more are there?"

"I don't know," Balanar was still alert for any movement. "But we have to get down into the tomb immediately. Let's finish what we came here for before more Spirits appear."

Everybody consented and followed Balanar down the long staircase entrance of the tomb.