I don't know if anyone noticed, but in chapter 5, when Nathanos is musing about the layout of Ahn'Qiraj, he thinks the following:
"If only there was some way to just delete walls, or something…"
This is a reference to the guild "Overrated" that had 75 of its members banned awhile back for using hack programs to delete the wall between C'Thun and Skeram in order to get to C'Thun faster.
Peculiarities
The Temple of Ahn'Qiraj
"Don't move," Nathanos cautioned. He stepped forward very carefully, setting each foot down with a certain elegance and grace.
"What is this place?" Ras queried, looking around at the vast, sandy enclosure in which the two now found themselves.
"You'll see," the ranger answered, his eyes scanning the sand around him. His response intrigued Ras, and the ex-lich cocked his head to the side. Nathanos had been acting strangely for the past few days. There was something different about him- something that Ras could not pinpoint but could, nevertheless, perceive.
If Ras didn't know any better, he would say that the ranger was acting almost… light-hearted.
Nathanos spent a long time moving out into the center of the arena, before finally seeming satisfied with the sand around him. The ranger then reached into his pack and pulled out a rock. He hefted the rock for a moment, and tossed and caught it once. The Ranger winked at Ras- how strange- and then gave the rock a toss, sending it skipping over the sand.
The ground rumbled.
A massive mound of earth and rocks exploded up from the sand and charged forward, heading straight for the rock. This happened so quickly that Ras hardly had time to register it. The shockwaves from the massive earthy displacement actually knocked him over. Nathanos grinned fiendishly and charged straight towards the moving mound.
Ras watched in amazement from his fallen position. There was indeed something different about his ranger companion. The mage had been seeing it more and more, ever since they had first entered the temple. There was something… something freer about Nathanos. Something youthful. Something almost elfin. His feet did not sink into the sand; they hardly left a footprint. He moved so as not to be toppled by the earth's chaotic heaving. Instead, he managed to flit right up the side of the mound, and followed it from above as it headed towards the tossed stone.
The mound altered. From the front of it exploded a massive and sinuous red body; a great worm, thrusting its way out of the ground with amazing force. As its head first broke through the sand, Nathanos grabbed onto its chitin plates and went along for the ride. Seconds later, he was three hundred feet in the air, and seated on the back of a very large and angry sandworm. A sandworm named Ouro.
And he laughed.
Theramore
Kallah looked up at the dark and foreboding clouds above her. A raindrop landed upon her nose and she giggled, wiping it off with her sleeve. A deep rumble echoed across the sky. In the distance, she could see tiny flashes of lightning, far out on the sea. If either of Kallah's parents were to check up on where their daughter was currently located, they probably would have had a minor heart attack.
The little girl had climbed out of her window, dropped three feet onto the roof of a lower portion of Theramore Castle, and had walked out on the roof some ways. She was sitting and watching the coming storm roll in. Before her lay the Theramore Docks. The air was unusually still, and the boats were sitting quietly in their moorings.
The view was astounding. It looked like a magnificent, panoramic oil painting. The mighty clouds were heading straight forward, and she could see the shadow they cast on the waters as they raced closer and closer to the docks. Another droplet of water landed on her- this time bouncing off of her cheek. A small breath of wind tossed her soft black hair back from her face.
"Rain, rain, come to play, stay away another day…
"Make rivers swell, and seas rebel, I ask the storm that I can smell.
"Boats creak and clack, and sails are slack, and all just waits for you to act.
"Um… something, something, something, something, la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la!"
"Be wild and free, both storm and sea, and always sailors' love you'll be."
The clouds passed over the sun, and a burst of cool wind whipped past the tower. The boats began to toss in their moorings. The tolling of bells could be heard, and in the distance she could hear sailors calling. Behind the tower, swamp trees rustled and shifted. A tingly goose-pimply feeling rushed over Kallah, and she giggled when a lightning bolt rippled through the sky, stretching down to kiss the ocean. The ensuing thunder rumbled and crackled and boomed for a good half a minute.
When the peal of thunder ended, the little girl was made aware of boots crunching on the roof's shingles. She turned just in time to see her grandfather come up beside her, his eyes focused on the incoming storm. Blinking up at him, she wondered what he was doing out on the roof. It occurred to her, after a moment of contemplation, that he might have come to watch the storm come in, the same as she had.
Kallah had not seen her grandfather since that day at the Koi pond, when he crushed her toy battleship. Given those parting circumstances, she wasn't sure what to make of the man. He broke toys, yelled a lot, and always seemed to be grumpy. Those weren't the characteristics of a very nice person. Still, there was something about him…
"Grandpa?"
He jumped as if someone had pinched him. Immediately, he turned to look at her. The expression on his face made it seem as if he had recently eaten something very bad-tasting. She blinked in confusion. To Kallah's knowledge, this was not how adults normally acted. It made her feel as if she had done something wrong, and she ducked her head and bit her lip in confusion. His hands clenched and unclenched several times. At last he spoke:
"What are you doing out here?" he asked darkly.
Kallah blinked, and then pointed at the storm. "Watching -" but she broke off as quite suddenly it began to rain, drenching her and the Admiral thoroughly. She blinked and giggled before finishing brightly, "Watching the storm come in!" She turned her face into the rain and shut her eyes for a moment, and then laughed and looked up at the black clouds. "It is so pretty!"
Daelin stared at her as the rain pattered down against him. In the overcast her skin was a dull gray color. He could almost pretend that her skin was not green, but white. Her face was utterly cherubic, her expressive eyes darting around to follow the strikes of distant lightning. After a minute she looked up at him again, a delighted smile on her face.
"Do you like the rain?" she asked innocently. He didn't answer. She watched him a moment, and then closed her eyes again and let the rain patter over her face. After a moment she stood up and hopped lightly across the wet shingles. She held her arms out and twirled around, laughing happily. "Rain, rain, come and play… Stay away some other day!" Her voice… Her voice was so similar… "Make rivers swell, and sea rebel, I ask the storm that I can smell!" By the light, she was so similar to Jaina… "Boats creak and clack, and sails are slack, and all just waits for you to act!"
How many times had that foolish girl climbed out onto the roof to watch a storm come in? How often had she rushed to the docks to watch the sailors reach shore? How many questions had she asked about the hulls of ships?
"Um… Hmm…" Kallah paused, stumped. For some reason, she just couldn't remember the words to the next verse of the song. She knew there were five- she was certain of it! And the last one was about loving the storm and sea… But the middle one? What was it?
"Send wind so shrill…" Kallah jumped in surprise as a wind-roughened baritone murmured out the elusive words. She looked up at her grandfather. He was staring at her, face blank, raindrops running down his gray cheek. "Disrupt the still," he continued, his eyes moving to look out at the sea, "and please, our sails and nets, refill…"
She looked at him a moment, trying to understand what was going through his head. After a moment, she continued with the song: "Be wild and free… both storm and sea…" She trailed off at the end, trying to bait him to continue the final verse. For a moment, it seemed as if her efforts were in vain. And then he continued her rhyme, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the pattering of the rain.
"And always sailors' love you'll be…" The clouds shifted and rolled. Thunder rumbled gently across the sky. After a moment, he slowly turned his head and looked down at the girl again. She smiled hopefully at him, and then hopped up to him and took one of his hands, as if to encourage him to dance with her. The movement surprised him. Without even thinking, he jerked his hand back and then roughly shoved the half-breed child away from him.
Rough shoves from undead warriors tend to be rather powerful- at least when applied to toddlers. Kallah hit the ground a few feet away from him, yelped, and rolled a few more, ending up just at the edge of the flat part of the roof. Any further, and she would have rolled over the side. Had that happened, she probably would have continued to roll down the sloped side of the roof, and simply fallen off the castle all together. The Admiral stiffened and his jaws tightened in consternation. A part of him insisted that the little abomination deserved to be thrown off the side of the tower.
A part of him hadn't meant to hit her so hard…
The girl didn't move for a second. Then she slowly shifted and lifted her head. Her lower lip was quivering. There were scratches on her face from the shingles. She drew one of her arms to her in a way that suggested it was hurt, and looked up at him. He said nothing, and merely stared at her. The rain made it difficult to tell, but he was rather certain she was crying.
Kallah eventually tried to get up, favoring all her scrapes and bruises. She quivered a bit, her balance unsteady, and then a shingle gave way from beneath her as she attempted to stand. She shrieked, and went rear-first off the flat of the roof. Immediately she began clawing at the shingles of the sloped section of the roof, squealing in terror. The shingles were slick, and the slope of the roof was at a 50 degree angle. She only had four feet to slide, and that would be it- she'd reach the end of the roof altogether.
Her fingers caught on a loose shingle. It held for but a moment and then snapped. She screamed, scrambling desperately for any handhold. Another loose shingle. Snap. Her feet met empty air.
There was a loud scraping noise beside her. She could hear shingles shattering and tumbling down the side of the roof. Then something had seized her around the middle, and before she knew it, she was clinging to her grandfather's chest as he clawed his way up the slope.
Daelin grunted and focused his eyes entirely on the lip of the roof above him. There were advantages to being undead; one being that he could push his body in ways that would normally be impossible. His fingers were buried into the shingles like claws. He could entirely ignore the fact that he was pressing his digits to the bone. Daelin grunted, lifting a hand up over the lip and digging his fingers hard into more shingles there. His boots found purchase on the slippery roof, as only a sailor's boots could.
A few shingles broke at the lip and he snarled. In a fraction of a second he had a stronger grip, and he hoisted himself up onto the flat of the roof. Several shingles cracked and slid down the slope into the void beyond. Unfazed, Daelin dragged himself away from the edge. Only when he was safe from falling over again did he look down at Kallah. The little girl was shaking violently. Her eyes were closed, and her face was pressed hard against his chest. Her arms and legs were battered, but she clung to him with the tenaciousness of a monkey.
Daelin stared at her, unsure of what to do. For a moment, he wondered why he hadn't let the child fall, and seriously considered dropping her back over the edge. Then she opened her cyan eyes and looked up at him tearfully. He grimaced, and involuntarily stroked a hand over her hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry…"
"Gr-Gran-"
He winced. She went quiet and closed her eyes again, still shivering.
"… Let's get you inside," he managed after a long moment. "You could catch a cold out here."
Naxxramas
Korth'azz grunted and gave a bout of rough laughter. "To arms, ye roustabouts! We've got company!" he hollered, dismissing the shade that had reported to him.
Blaumeux blinked over at him. Her eyes flicked to the departing shade and she gave a slow, cat-like smile. "I do hope they stay alive long enough for me to… introduce myself," she purred.
There were currently invaders inside Naxxramas. For once, Lady Blaumeux was getting what she desired. Rather than sending out Ketala first to deal with the interlopers before any damages accrued, Kel'Thuzad had allowed the trespassers to fight their way to the four horsemen. Why he did this was unclear to Ketala. Perhaps he was simply obliging Blaumeux.
"The first kill goes to me! Anyone care to wager?" Blaumeux inquired with a distinct arrogance.
"I'm gonna enjoy killin' these slack-jawed daffodils," was all that Korth'azz said in response. Lady Blaumeux looked down at the dwarf with contempt, but said nothing. Apparently Mograine noticed her glare, for he rounded on his fellow horsemen.
"Conserve your anger!" he hissed. "Harness your rage! You will all have outlets for your frustration soon enough!"
Ketala sat quietly in her corner of Kel'Thuzad's throne room, meticulously polishing her blades. The activity was monotonous and required little concentration. Due to this, Ketala could cast her mind throughout all of Naxxramas and still give the appearance that she was concentrated wholly upon her weapons. Sometime after she encountered Zeliek, it occurred to Ketala that she could still ply her gift.
The undead in Naxxramas were well hidden from her, but not entirely beyond her reach. With determination and a bit of creativity, she could slowly worm her way into their minds. It was hard going, and she generally had to stick to ghouls and other unintelligent undead. Still, it gave her something to do. It gave her goals and challenges. This helped her maintain her sanity. It also allowed her to be well-informed on the matters within Naxxramas' halls. Through the eyes of shades, she watched as the horsemen bickered.
Mograine was of particular interest to Ketala. She had never encountered the ex-Highlord before. Like all the inhabitants of the Plaguelands, Ketala had heard a great deal about Highlord Mograine the Ashbringer. He had once led the Scarlet Crusade. Even members of the Argent Dawn had known him as a righteous man. They told stories of how he could slaughter thousands of undead with nothing but his faith and his sword. He had been a legend once.
What he was doing in Kel'Thuzad's employ was a mystery to Ketala. He reminded her, in some ways, of Sir Zeliek. And yet where Zeliek was still pure and righteous, Mograine had been tainted. He seemed to have given in to his new Death Knight status. Rather than fighting against the darkness, he had submitted to it. As the invaders drew closer to where the horsemen were located, he seemed to grow more bitter and eager, all at once.
"Invaders, cease this foolish venture at once! Turn away while you still can!" Zeliek could only take actions that did not hamper his own effectiveness in battle. Kel'Thuzad was his puppeteer. At times, it was as if he were a stranger in his own body. On some occasions, Kel'Thuzad even took his voice.
Blaumeux laughed and looked over at the ex-paladin in amusement. "Come, Zeliek, do not drive them out. Not before we've had our fun!"
Desperate to get the invaders to turn away, Zeliek kept rambling. At that moment, it did not matter to him that Lady Blaumeux was beyond redemption, or that she cared little for what he had to say: "Perhaps they will come to their senses, and run away as fast as they can!"
Thane Korth'azz growled, looking over his shoulder at the white-clad death knight. "I heard about enough of yer sniveling. Shut yer trap 'afore I shut it for ye!"
Mograine snorted, silencing his fellow horsemen with a sharp gesture. "Enough prattling. Let them come! We shall grind their bones to dust."
In any event, while the battle was a pleasant diversion for Blaumeux, Mograine, and Korth'azz, it was utterly devastating to Zeliek.
"Zeliek…"
"By the Light! Make me stop! Make me stop! I know you can- I know you have the power to free me! Please, I beg of you, make me stop!"
Ketala often speculated that Zeliek joined the ranks of the death by suffering an over-dramatized panic attack on the field. After a moment or two of considering the idea, she would always immediately feel sorry for the rude thoughts. Everyone copes with darkness in different ways. In Zeliek's defense, he was of sounder spirit than Ketala; even Mograine had fallen to darkness, and yet Zeliek's heart was still pure.
Still, he knew why she could not set him free. "That will accomplish nothing, Zeliek. Kel'Thuzad would just kill you."
"Kill me? KILL me? If you can give to me such a fate, than why do you so cruelly withhold it? Why do you let me remain here, slaughtering these helpless fools who come against me? Why do you aid Ner'zhul?"
Ketala snorted. "Don't be foolish, Zeliek. The Lich King would just replace you. And your replacement would probably slaughter the invaders happily."
"Then at least free me… At least save me from this hell…"
"We do not have the luxury of thinking of ourselves."
"What? That is all we can think about! We can help no one else!"
"I am helping you."
"And a great deal it has done! Now I am only more certain of the atrocities I commit!"
"Would you like me to leave you be?"
Agonized silence for a moment, and then, "No…"
"I need your help, Zeliek. I cannot endure this darkness on my own."
"You have but to turn your sword to your own breast, and you are free. Why do you remain here?"
"Because Arthas will personally destroy everything I love."
"So instead you have him force you to destroy everything you love? I am here to feel your agony when you plunge your blades through the hearts of invaders. I know your mental screams when you wake in the night."
To that, Ketala had no immediate response. Zeliek did not push her, despite his own position. He merely turned his attention back to the battle. It was fights like these that he hated the most. The ranks were filled with Alliance soldiers- good men and women who did not deserve the end ahead of him. His hands went through the motions independent of his mind. They twirled his mace and sent it ripping through the thick armor of a nearby warrior.
"Flee! Flee before it is too late!" he begged. "I have no choice but to obey!" The warrior did not heed him. He rushed towards the ex-paladin, his sword and shield at ready. Zeliek had no choice about his actions. A few mace-blows later and the warrior was naught but a crumpled heap of blood and broken bones at his horse's feet.
He did not press his argument with Ketala until the battle was over, and some of his motor functions were once again his own. The white-clad death-knight looked down at his bloodstained hands, and his shoulders slumped.
"… F… Forgive me…" he said meekly to her. "At least you are trying to help end all of this…"
"You made many good points."
Silence for a moment, and then he asked: "… How far are you with your plans?"
"It is difficult…" she mused. "I am starting on the gargoyles… I already have a few under my wing."
"When you have more, leave. Get out of here. Get away from this."
"… Zeliek, I swore upon my paladin honor, and upon the lives of my friends, that I would serve Arthas loyally. I have no choice. I cannot turn back upon such a vow. All I can do is make the best of my situation, and try to turn the undead against Ner'zhul."
He responded with naught but stunned silence.
"I cannot leave, Zeliek. I am bound here by my own honor."
"Ketala…"
"I help the ghouls because I need some means of helping this world."
"Ketala, you have to go."
"I swore-"
"To the Nether with what you swore! It is unimportant! You are his prized weapon, Ketala! How dare you call yourself a warrior of the light, and then aid the Lich King in his slaughter of innocents?"
"I am a paladin. I cannot-"
"Forsake it! Forsake your paladin-hood if you must! Commit one dishonorable act- if you are insane enough to call betraying the Lich King dishonorable! It is worth it! It is worth the thousands of lives you will save!"
"I cannot. I am a paladin," she growled in response.
"Ketala, you fool. What is a paladin? A paladin is a protector of the innocent. A champion of freedom, truth, and justice."
"I would be turning upon my oath-"
"What right have you to be self-righteous when all of Azeroth needs your help?"
"Look at you. By holding true to your paladin roots, you have defied the Lich King! Your mind is safe from his, and your spirit is uncorrupted!"
"And I am a puppet, forced to kill at his every whim! And now, that is what you are. He just controls you with different strings."
"I am… nothing… if not loyal to the promises I make."
"You are the salvation of an entire world, and you are helping to damn it."
She was silent.
"Think about what I've said," the ex-paladin murmured mentally. "And leave."
"I can't," she answered softly.
"Why?"
"I can't leave Kel'Thuzad."
Zeliek snorted. "He has damned himself, Ketala… And he has damned you. There is nothing for you to save."
"He is my only family, Zeliek. My entire life has been centered on saving him. Everything I have done, I did while thinking about how I could somehow draw him from the Lich King's thrall. I cannot leave him, Zeliek…"
"How can you put so many lives above your own happiness?"
"Because I was never raised to understand morals, or values, or good and evil. I learned all of those things later, and I truly believed them. But I was raised understanding only one thing: I wanted to be with my parent. He saved my life, and my soul. And I cannot leave him."
"How exactly do you figure upon 'saving' him? Are you just hoping that some raid will miraculously make its way to through Naxxramas, Kel'Thuzad will be cornered, and you'll have the freedom you need to spirit him out of here? He sends you to kill everything he considers a threat!"
"…I…"
"What exactly are you waiting for?"
"… Nathanos…"
Zeliek blinked, looking up from his bloodstained hands. "You speak that name with great passion."
"…I was waiting for Nathanos… I expected him to come find me… I suppose that was wishful thinking."
The death knight ex-paladin was silent for a moment. "Ketala, how did you end up here in the first place?"
Theramore
The Grand Admiral Proudmoore was neither a priest nor a physician. Despite this fact, he did have a rudimentary understanding of first aid. He set Kallah down in her little bathtub, and washed out all her scrapes with warm water. Bruises were appearing all over her tiny frame, so he had to be extra careful not to touch any of them. Drying her off after her bath was even more difficult.
Fortunately, Kallah wasn't a particularly fussy patient. She sat quietly while he bandaged up her little scrapes, and only fidgeted every once in awhile. Her skin was as soft as any human child's. When he brushed a bruise on accident, her little forehead puckered and her eyes watered. She sniffled, and he even had to use a tissue to wipe some boogies from her nose. Boogie wiping- now there was something he hadn't done in a few decades.
She was really just a kid…
Now that he thought about it, who the nether had taught her to call him "Grandpa"? Obviously, Jaina must have. And if the young sorceress had taught Kallah to call him by that particular appellation, what did it mean? Should he be angry that Jaina was trying to get him to accept the little halfbreed? Should he be happy that his daughter obviously hadn't disowned him? Was Jaina being manipulative, or was she being encouraging? Did he care? Was he disgusted? Why "Grandpa"? Did Jaina really think he would ever accept this creature as his grandchild?
"Grandpa? I think my hair is messy," Kallah observed, pulling vainly at her hopelessly matted tresses. Daelin blinked and stared at her. Her hair was very messy… He pulled a brush out of a nearby cupboard, and then carefully began working on her hair, from the bottom up. When he was around halfway up the length of her hair, he froze, and blinked several times. It was almost as if he had just woken up, and was surprised to find himself in his current position.
Kallah looked up at him. One of her bright cyan eyes was slightly marred by a dark purple bruise and a few scrapes. Her expression held a small mite of apprehension and a large wealth of curiosity.
It occurred to him, just then, that he was an abomination- an undead- a perversion of nature, and Kallah had never once shown any disgust or hatred towards him. Babies cried and mothers crossed themselves when he approached. Small children hid behind their parents' legs, and older ones made faces behind his back. But never once had Kallah ever been anything but curious and friendly.
Quite suddenly, he had no idea what to believe.
Naxxramas
Ketala did think about Zeliek's words. She considered them, and weighed her choices carefully. Days passed, and the Lich King did not call on her again to do battle. He let the horsemen deal with all incursions into Naxxramas. During these raids, she thought about Zeliek's words the hardest. She felt her paladin comrade's horror at the atrocities he was forced to commit.
She felt guilty.
As she sat and pondered, she looked over at Vaiden, and carefully observed the little boy. The child was two or three- Ketala had given up trying to track dates in Naxxramas' unending twilight. Despite his young age, he already had a plethora of quirks.
For starters, Vaiden was mute. He was utterly silent, unable to do anything so much as cry or laugh. The main reason for this was that he lacked vocal cords. Many times, Ketala had tried to heal this particular flaw, but the child had been born that way, and she could not change what was normal for him. Furthermore, Vaiden's emotions were very subdued. She had only seen him smile once or twice. He yawned occasionally, but he had never cried, or thrown any type of fit. All of this had made communication between mother and son very difficult.
On the other hand, he was an utter master of giving meaningful looks. In the first few years of Vaiden's life, Ketala had become skilled at reading subtle facial clues. It helped that his eyes whirled different colors depending on his mood. She could almost always feel when he was staring at her, and a look at his intense eyes could clue her in to the nature of any problem or desire he had.
It was also hard to tell whether Vaiden was undead or alive. Every last one of the little boy's organs was fully functioning, and yet he was awash in necromantic energy. He healed and grew like a normal human, and yet he was extremely anorexic, and his skin was the color of ash. Ketala didn't exactly care to drive a blade into his heart to see if he would remain animated. She figured that the little boy was caught somewhere between life and undeath.
The little one was also slightly crippled just below his left knee. In a normal human, the lower leg would be made up of two bones, the fibula and tibia, which would be encased together in a thick shield of muscle and flesh. In Vaiden's left leg, the fibula and tibia were separated. Each one was surrounded by a tiny layer of fat, muscle, and flesh. In this leg, Vaiden evidenced the highest necromantic corruption. Ketala surmised that this deformity was a result on Kel'Thuzad's attack on her during her pregnancy.
But nevertheless, regardless of his flaws, she adored the little child. And the more she thought about Zeliek's words, the more she thought about the consequences of raising Vaiden in such a terrible place. She wanted what was best for her child…
Maybe it was a good idea to leave…
"You shouldn't let such thoughts cross your mind, little Fiheriae. I might overhear them," a familiar mental voice purred softly.
A cold wave of air washed over Ketala; simultaneously, Vaiden turned and looked at her. He immediately tottered over to her and sat down in her lap. His tiny fingers clung to her armor in a hug, and he leaned his cheek against her chest plate. Ketala smiled lightly, looking down at the little boy.
Vaiden… What would she have done without him…?
Something cold moved nearer to her, and she lifted her head. She was not surprised when she found herself face to face with Arthas' specter. His mouth quirked up at the corner in an amused smirk, and his acidic eyes conveyed a taunting malice. Ketala snorted and shuddered violently. "My name is Truae," she hissed mentally, and then batted a hand forward through the air that he occupied. "And you are nothing more than a figment of my imagination."
He arched a brow at her and gave a light chuckle, smiling all the more. "Oh, really? Then why are you talking to me?" Ketala just sneered in response, and he laughed again. "Be that as it may, I am a very powerful figment of your imagination. I may not be able to affect the physical world around you, but I am destroying you from the inside. And I warn you- you shouldn't let such thoughts cross your mind."
"Or what?" she asked in bitter amusement. "You will torment my mind further? If you have not noticed, dear Figment, you are already doing your worst. And you are coming up against a wall. I have been fighting off your visions of late."
His eyes half closed to slits, and he eyed her almost lazily. It took a keen eye to spot the venom hidden in his gaze. "Indeed. But there are other ways to torture you."
"Then I am lucky you are trapped inside my head." His smile faded a bit, and he leaned closer to her. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his sickly eyes bored into hers with a disturbing cool. Vaiden hugged her more tightly.
"You know very well that I am more than a simple hallucination. I have broken free of you before. Think carefully before you defy me, little Fiheriae. You have been in Naxxramas for years. You are suffused entirely with his taint. My taint. This little fragment of my mind is not as separated from the whole as it once was. That is why I am growing stronger. That is why I can now speak. Soon, you will find that the Lich King has a direct link to your mind through me."
"And I to him," she said cryptically. "The last time he and I fought, I didn't exactly lose."
"Ketala, it would take but one order to destroy you. All I would have to do is command Kel'Thuzad to murder Vaiden, and everything you live for would suddenly crumble."
Ketala smiled, stroking gently through Vaiden's mousy hair. "Ah, but dear specter, if I and Vaiden leave, then it would be much harder to kill my beloved child."
"You wake in the night screaming my name, begging for me to end your torment. If you leave, I will destroy you. I will kill every innocent in search of you. I will slaughter anyone I find who even knows your name. And I will rip your mind apart at the seams."
A pang of guilt shot through Ketala, and then was smothered.
"I cannot allow my fear to control me. I will defend them from you. I will fight you until my dying gasp," she growled, her eyes whirling red, orange, and yellow.
His eyes narrowed. "You are mine," he said coldly, clearly. "You always have been. You always will be. You are mine."
"I am nothing of yours," she snarled.
"You are only mine. Through Gandling, I created you. From birth, from the womb, from your very conception, you have been mine. I am the one who ordered Gandling to take the lifeless body of a girl and splice it with elemental energy. I am the one who imparted life unto you. I am responsible for everything- from your power to the very constitution of your soul. And I am even the one who had Kel'Thuzad raise you and Anub'arak train you. You belong to me. You were created by me, for me. Everything you are, you owe to me. You are mine."
"As you are Kil'Jaeden's?"
For once, he was silent. There was something within Ketala that desperately wanted him to continue his rant- that wanted to know how and why she had come into being. But another part- a stronger part- knew that it did not matter. If she had indeed once owed Arthas the debt of life, than she had surely paid for it with how many she had killed in his name.
"You. Are. Mine." A great weight of mental energy slammed down on her, overwhelming her with sheer strength. A foreign sense of crushing despair ripped into her. A thousand visions rippled before her eyes, showing a thousand atrocities, a thousand possible futures in which everything she loved was destroyed.
Ketala grit her teeth, and then laughed. The laughter echoed and rebounded within her head as she ruthlessly forced back against him, fighting fire with fire. In that moment, all her spirit returned in a blanket of sheer defiance. He had been silent. Things were not hopeless. And he was not her master.
"Ketala!" The word was physical- real. It drew her out of Arthas' agonizing visions, and brought her into the normal world again. Kel'Thuzad was standing near her. She looked up at him, blinking in confusion and wondering why he had called her name. She heard the sound of armor hitting the ground on the other side of her, and she turned to see two abnormally large skeletons forcing a human to kneel.
The human male was wearing the tabard of the Argent Dawn, and sported exceedingly damaged paladin plate. There were large, gaping holes in his armor, and blood oozed from his numerous wounds. Kel'Thuzad eyed Ketala a moment before continuing.
"The Lich King finds this one unsuited to become a Death Knight. Instead, his remains shall be given to the necromancers for use in their abominations." The paladin jerked his head up to stare at the lich. "Of course, in order to be suitable for use in abominations, he needs to be broken down into his basic parts. The Lich King would like you to do the honor."
Ketala looked up at Kel'Thuzad for a moment, her expression blank. Then she carefully set Vaiden on the ground, stood, and walked up to the captured paladin. He recognized the emblem of the silver hand on her breastplate.
"Lady Ketala –" he pleaded.
She drew out both of her swords with lightning speed. Both cleaved like scissors through his neck, and then dived down to sever his arms at the shoulder. Each movement was fast and hard- requiring a strength born almost of anger. Again, the swords came together like scissors, and sliced off the legs, one at a time.
The execution and butchering were over in thirty seconds. Inwardly, Kel'Thuzad was mildly surprised, but he gave no outward indication of his sentiments. Ketala turned towards him, her eyes icy and cold. She wore an expression he had never seen before- something between determination and anger.
"As the Lich King commands," she recited blandly.
"May this serve to warn you; next time, it shall be Zeliek awaiting his execution by your hands."
Inwardly, Ketala was mildly surprised, but she gave no outward indication of her sentiments. If any of the skeletons in the room had possessed functioning minds, they might have noted the similarities between the two. Ketala nodded obediently, and then turned back to where she had been sitting.
There she saw Vaiden, staring curiously at the butchered corpse. A butterfly feeling shot through her stomach, and an overwhelming cloud of shame rushed over her. For a moment, her world was still and silent. She looked at the boy for a long moment, contemplating the full extent of the world in which she was raising him.
Every logical process in Ketala's mind shut down. Thought and reason faded, and she allowed a wave of mindless instinct to sweep over her. She sheathed both of her blades, and then scooped up her child in her arms. Without thinking, she turned and began walking towards the exit to Kel'Thuzad's throne room.
Ketala had never taken Vaiden outside of that room. She had not wanted to expose him to the evils within Naxxramas' dreadful halls. Her current actions surprised Kel'Thuzad.
"Where are you going?" he inquired.
"To visit Zeliek," Ketala answered icily, and without stopping. "I thought Vaiden could get an extra dose of carnage viewing for today." The lich's eyes narrowed. He could sense something amiss.
"Stop." His voice rang cold and clear across the throne room. Ketala obeyed, but did not look back at him. "Vaiden will remain here, under my supervision," the lich enunciated slowly. "You may leave, but only because I know his presence will return you here."
For a moment, Ketala did not respond. Then she looked over her shoulder at her beloved parent. The waves of instinct did not falter. Their powerful swells were not halted by logic or grief.
"Vaiden will go wherever I please," she answered simply. "May this serve to warn you; I fear no consequences. I will not let anything poison my son."
"You forfeit Zeliek's life," the lich hissed in outrage.
"And oh, how he would thank me for it."
"You forfeit mine."
That was a powerful threat. Ketala did not consciously remember that Kel'Thuzad had once tried to take Vaiden from her. She did not remember giving up on the old lich. For a moment, the waves of her instinct faltered.
"Ketala…" he murmured, stretching out a skeletal hand to her.
The undead paladin looked at the offered limb, and then turned her eyes to his dark blue ones. "No. You forfeited yours long ago when you refused to poison me. I am merely forfeiting mine. Besides, he won't kill you."
"You seem so certain," he hissed sarcastically.
"He knows that you are the only reason I stay. Not because of Nathanos, or Vaiden, or Zeliek, or Andorhal. I stay because of you. Because I love you, and I will not leave you. I obey him because of you. Promising to leave Nathanos and Andorhal alone are prices he paid to lure me in. He holds nothing over me. It is all you. If he slew you, I would find a way out- and he knows it.'
She eyed him a moment, and then turned and continued to walk. Kel'Thuzad stared after her quietly, an expression of disgust on his face.
The Temple of Ahn'Qiraj
Ouro was not happy with the situation. It bellowed and tossed, and smashed its body into whatever object (including the ground) was readily available. Despite all its protests, the irritating cretin on top of its head would not let go! The foul-smelling little beastie was tugging at Ouro's sensitive antennae- yanking the sandworm's head from side to side. Finally, Ouro just gave up and dove back underground. That would get the nasty little beastie off.
Nathanos grinned when he noticed that Ouro was just about to dive. He had spent his sandworm ride examining Ouro's complex carapace. When the worm arced downward, Nathanos shoved himself under a fold of the creature's powerful hide. His fingers tightened on Ouro's two antennae. When the sandworm hit the ground, he did not release- he went along for the ride.
Poor Ouro was very surprised to find that Nathanos was not dislodged by a trip underground. The ranger remained clinging to it- quite painfully, in fact. This situation was so distressing that Ouro quickly surfaced again, and continued trying to beat the ranger to a pulp against a rock.
It didn't work.
Frustrated, Ouro dove again. And again. And again. It would surface and flail about madly. It would tunnel under the ground and writhe back and forward, trying to dislodge its extra baggage. Dive, flail, dive, flail, dive, flail. Nathanos remained an obstinate pest. He tugged on the great worm's antenna, and dug his axe blade into the sensitive areas behind its massive plates of carapace. He'd pull left, and wouldn't be satisfied until the worm turned. He'd press behind its plates, and would press harder and harder until it dived.
Ras sat down and ate lunch. And dinner. And then breakfast and lunch and dinner, and then breakfast again. He wasn't certain whose tenaciousness he was more impressed with: Nathanos' or Ouro's. The entire raiding party came to the entrance of Ouro's chamber to watch, although none dared walk out onto the sandworm's arena.
At last, the pattern stopped- quite suddenly and without any prior warning. Nathanos tugged left, and Ouro turned left. And left… and left… It turned in two circles, before the ranger released, and the worm went still. It hadn't eaten in days, and had been engaging in very frustrating and energy-wasting activity. It was weak, tired, and it wanted food.
Nathanos smirked from his perch. His arms were strained, he was covered in sand, and his legs were raw. Very carefully, he shifted so that he was next to the creature's head, and he gently patted the sensitive carapace around its antenna. Ouro twitched, but was otherwise motionless. The ranger gave a wry smile, and looked triumphantly over where the party was sitting.
"Ras, would you be so kind as to summon up a bit of bread?"
The mage blinked, and then his jaw dropped, as it suddenly dawned on him what all of this struggling had been about. He choked on his food, and had to spend a minute clearing out his trachea before he could speak again. When he did, he just managed: "F- for Ouro?"
"Of course!" the ranger exclaimed. "What kind of Ranger Lord does not feed his animal companions?"
YARG!