My Starcraft fanfiction updated recently, with a chapter starring Artanis! Wooo!
Hi everyone, I've started a Deviant Art account. I haven't moved all my art over yet, but the URL is in my profile, and I've moved over most of the peices. I've also written a song that was used in this chapter, and I posted the music online at a generic upload site, where you can listen to it. That URL is also available in my profile.
A Thin Line
(Naxxramas)
Ketala whirled through the legions of the undead, her elegant scimitars dancing through their ghastly flesh. She entered the hallway at a run, and did not slow for a moment. Holy light rippled between the narrow walls of the passage, blowing lesser undead to pieces and sorely burning others. Every minion that Kel'Thuzad or Ner'zhul sent to block her route, she destroyed.
At one point, she came upon an abomination whose girth plugged up the hallway, denying her passage. As she ran towards the creature, she trailed her blades over the stone walls of the corridor, and flames ignited down their sides. Without pausing, without thinking, she whipped the blades forward, and two bolts of seething hot magma sailed headlong into the abomination's bulk. One of the projectiles hit the undead square in the face and caused it to stagger backwards. The other barreled into the monster's grotesque belly. For a moment, the abomination floundered helplessly under the attack. Then the magma balls exploded like shrapnel bombs, pasting the hallway with flaming hot gore.
When Ketala finally reached the undead monster, she vaulted over its falling body and dug her scimitar tips into the head of a hapless cultist as she went. The macabre scene of broken bones and pulped meat that she left behind her would have made Nathanos proud.
Despite the slaughter, Ketala's head was clear and empty; she inhabited each moment as it came, each sword stroke as it fell. She was every dodge - every slice. Her eyes flamed bright yellow, and her feet danced carefully over the ground. She was a weapon, an instrument of death and carnage. Not mindless, but focused so intently on the task that she might as well have been clockwork.
Ketala swept through the Deathknight Wing like the reaper of souls himself. She killed everything in her way: knights, trainees, ghouls and ghosts. Holy light followed her like a tidal wave, streaming down her arms, burning everything in her path. The foundations of Naxxramas shook with her fury, and for a moment she was no angel of compassion, but rather an angel of justice, golden and radiant.
When she came to a crossroads between the many wings of the necropolis, she was briefly tempted to head straight for Kel'Thuzad. Instinct warned her otherwise. Even in all her brilliant rage, she did not have the strength to kill him. Kel'Thuzad marked the end of her fury- not the beginning. She would have to avoid him for as long as possible.
So instead of heading towards her beloved parent, she surged with purpose towards the Abomination Wing, and slapped her blades together in anticipation.
She would weaken Arthas in any way she could. Maybe then some adventurers would be able to end the nightmare of the flying ziggurat once and for all.
(Zangarmarsh)
Zul'vii frowned and eyed the map. She turned it to the left, and then to the right, and then finally turned it upside down. "Aha!" she suddenly exclaimed, and she jabbed the map with her forefinger. "There we are! It seems we took a wrong turn at the giant glowing mushroom of death!" She turned the map upright and then upside down several more times, and then stood up and looked around. "Let's see… Ember, I think I've figured out the direction we need to head! Ten more minutes of play time, and then we're heading out, okay?"
Only silence answered her. Zul'vii blinked and looked behind her. The little girl was nowhere in sight.
"Ember?"
No one answered her. Zul'vii waited, expecting that Ember would jump out of the nearby bushes in an effort to scare her. But no Ember appeared.
"… Well, damn."
---
A good five miles away, Ember was squealing in delight as she raced around on the back of a very bewildered nether ray. The creature was flying back and forward at maddening speeds, trying to dislodge the night elf who had taken up residence on its back. Ember was already aware that she did not want this particular nether ray as a pet, but she was having so much fun she couldn't just leave it alone.
"Oh leave the poor creature alone," a tauren ancestor spirit suggested, but his voice was filled with amusement. Ember just laughed. Most of the ancestors were busy holding a private meeting in her mind. She figured she could peer in at what they were saying, but she wasn't all that interested. The spirits could talk with each other for hours. They came from radically different races and viewpoints, and so spent much of their time compromising over their differences. They insisted this reconciliation was necessary, as it allowed them to act as a single unit to protect and guide her. So rather than bothering them, she just ignored their soft discussion, and concentrated on the confused nether ray.
Zoom!
"She's already doing much better," the draenei spokesman said to his fellows."Her mind is starting to show clear signs of development and organization."
"Indeed,"agreed the night elf. "Look at her now. Ember's never been so happy or carefree. She's starting to catalogue things as 'fun' and 'exciting.' It's a good sign of heightened self-identity."
"True,"the orc conceded, "but will it be enough? Archimonde is starting to fight back again. There's a chance he's gaining power from the corruption of the world. If that's so, Nature could end up on the defensive again, and Ember will have to hold her own against him."
"What kind o' question is dat?" asked the troll. "Who de nether could stand up against da big guy? We just gots to be making sure he doesn't break free. He's got to stay beneath Nature for dis whole operation."
"Or else?" questioned the night elf a tad disdainfully.
"Or else we all be screwed, elf lady. Archimonde breaks free, and Ember will eventually go back to da way she was before we talked to her. And dere be no way she be saving anyone in dat state."
"The troll is right," the draenei said slowly. "We cannot risk Archimonde regaining power. Ember might be able to fight against him for a short while, but it is not a risk we can afford to take. We must take every precaution to keep him helpless."
"As much as I hate to agree with the troll, he is right," the elf conceded."We have to be patient. Each of us has their own agenda. We want to help our people, and free our lands, and bring justice those who have caused our children suffering. But we must set those desires in their proper places, and focus on helping Ember. Without her, we are voiceless and caged."
The orc ancestor nodded. "The sooner she gets to Nagrand the better. She will be safer there."
The draenei nodded in agreement. "Illidan is still searching for her magically, but our protective spells are holding. He cannot find her."
"He's bound to get angry at that," the night elf pointed out.
"Indeed. But it's necessary. Ember is not ready. Not yet."
The tauren listened to his peers debate and argue without adding a word to the conversation. He watched as Ember finally lost her hold on the nether ray and went tumbling away. She 'oof'-ed and 'ouch'-ed and finally came to rest in a batch of ferns. She blinked at the sky for a moment and then closed her eyes and began to laugh. The tauren smiled lightly. "Now look at you. You've filled your hair with sticks and leaves, and your clothes are filthy."
"Again!" she answered. "I'm going to do it again!"
He laughed.
The Zangarmarsh was a maze of giant mushrooms, thick brush, glowing lichen, and hidden lakes. Ember didn't show the slightest intimidation. She knew exactly where she left Zul'vii, and she could smell several nether rays nearby. The little girl climbed to her feet and headed off into the forest, navigating easily around puddles of sinking sand and patches of poisonous mushrooms. As the smell of nether ray became stronger and stronger, she crouched down and began to sneak closer. She was very careful about where she set her feet, as she didn't want to disturb the smallest twig. Closer she came, and closer still, until the nether ray was right in front of her.
The creature's flat body was smooth and slimy, like a wet mushroom. Its back was raised in a hard ridge upon which a rider might sit. It was a flying beast, but its wings were nothing more than pulsing flaps of skin. Yet it floated in the air as comfortably as a normal ray or skate would float in water. Great prehensile spikes jutted from the top most portions of its wings, and mandibles surrounded a hideous face of ridges and teeth and overlapping flaps of skin. Tiny blue eyes, like holes seated deep within its head, gave off an unsettling glow.
Ember gave a big grin. The muscles in her legs bunched up tightly. Then she was jumping through the air. Her fingers coiled around its tails, and she scrambled quickly up onto its back and dug her fingers into its thick carapace. The nether ray gave a shriek of alarm, and bolted forward.
ZOOM!
(The Black Temple)
Illidan was in a foul mood. He tore through the Black Temple, barking orders and sending the whole fortress into a chaotic whirl. When someone displeased him, he would crush their skulls in or line their bodies with demonic fire. There were no subtle threats of torture or suffering. He offered no warnings as a prelude to his actions. The slightest provocation caused him to snap, and he'd reach out and remorselessly end the life of whatever had irritated him.
Akama found this behavior somewhat peculiar. He remained out of the pseudo-demon's way, watching from behind corners as Illidan raged about and snarled unrealistic orders at every poor soul he could find.
Something's troubling him, the old draenei noted mentally. Illidan was a very violent person. Akama had seen him snap the necks of advisors out of sheer frustration, but the demon hunter's fits of anger were normally singular and brief. This time, things were different. Illidan had been on the rampage for over a week and evidenced no signs of stopping any time soon. This is no show of anger. He is frightened. Only fear could eat at someone in such a fashion, causing them to strike out day after day.
In the two years he'd been at the Black Temple, he'd spun an intricate empire around its foundations. Through manipulation and raw displays of power, he'd surrounded himself in layers of protection; armor against anything that might do him harm. He had stood up against the Burning Legion, had stationed Kael in Tempest Keep and Vash in the Coilfang Reservoir, claiming the majority of Outland as his own. But now it seemed a crack was forming in the demon's impenetrable armor…
Akama watched as Illidan turned on one of his servants, claws bared, eyes flaming green. The draenei's intense gaze never wavered. He watched, his cyan eyes grim and determined, quiet but stoic. Our lord Illidan is frightened, and his minions begin to express their discontent with his tyranny. The time to act draws close… His gnarled clawed wrapped around the handles of his sickles. I will be patient.I will wait until the parasite is sickly and drooping, and then I will cut its roots out from beneath it in a single sweep. He stepped backwards into the shadow, and his features began to merge and blend with the darkness. For a moment, all that remained were his glowing eyes, and then those too faded. This place will be made hallowed again… I swear it…
Illidan began moving to another room, and so Akama followed, watching the demon hunter from the shadows, marking his every blunder, a silent witness to his depravity. When the demon hunter seemed to have slaughtered his fill he stalked off to quieter areas. The old draenei followed him for awhile, but Illidan's blood thirst seemed slaked, and it was difficult to stay hidden from the powerful sorcerer. Sensing that the day's fruitfulness was at an end, Akama turned and began to slink away.
"Why can I not sense you?" Illidan suddenly snarled, his voice carrying powerfully throughout the chamber. Akama paused, momentarily concerned that he'd been found out, but when he looked around he realized he was not the subject of the demon's ire. Illidan seemed to be talking to himself, magical energies gathering around him. "I have cast this seeing spell a thousand times, and a thousand times it fails me! How could she be hidden from me? Why can I not sense her?" He paused, waiting to see if this casting would reveal anything; A few seconds later his shriek of disgust and frustration indicated that it had not.
"How the nether did she end up on the other side of a scrying spell anyway?" he continued, falling entirely into a rant. "No one would teach that girl magic, not with the demon she has inside of her! It makes no sense. And yet I felt it! I heard her words. She was on Outland, Ifelt her! But what the hell was she doing here? AND WHY CANT I SENSE HER-?" His words were unconnected streams of anger, byproducts of a rant that had obviously been going on for quite some time. Intrigued, Akama chose to linger a tad longer, his cyan eyes fixed on the obviously distressed demon.
Illidan's movements were jerky and uncertain. He was angry and yet his anger had no direction. He was left trembling in exasperation, pent up energy threatening to burst out in every direction. Worse, he seemed confused, like a cornered animal trying to find some way out of a hunter's snare...
He remembered hearing her voice, calling out his name, begging him to stop hurting her. He had been overwhelmed by dark anger and thick arrogance, by the shadows lurking in the back of his mind. But her voice had pierced through that haze, if only for a moment. It had let the light in, had shaken him awake. He had stopped the attack immediately, overwhelmed by what he had done. And then he remembered losing contact with her, watching her slip through his fingers like- like-
"SHE IS NOT DEAD!" he screamed aloud.
In the back of his mind, the shadow scoffed. Of course she is. If she were alive, you would sense her. You killed her.
"SHE IS NOT DEAD!" he screamed again, but this time his voice cracked, twisting into what was nearly a cry of pain. It was like he had pushed the keystone out of an elaborate bridge, and the rest was tumbling down around his ears. He moaned and dropped to his knees, the emotional baggage of an entire week simply crushing him, worming into him, spilling poison into his blood. "I would never hurt her," he whispered. "She is not dead."
You cast a pain curse on her. On a child. She is dead.
The pseudo-demon gave a pathetic, visceral cry of anguish, half moan, half sob. Akama looked on in amazement, having never seen the tyrant so small, so vulnerable. The Lord of the Black Temple wrapped his arms around his midsection and was violently sick all over the ground. This display of sheer emotional pain caught the Broken draenei off guard, and Akama backed up a few steps.
"Ember…" Illidan murmured weakly. "Ember…" The part-demon lifted a hand to his face and shuddered. What have I done?
(Naxxramas)
Ketala watched quietly as two abominations lumbered towards her. They had been made too large, and they moaned and shrieked as their terrible mass worked to crush their organs. Still they came closer, their multiple arms hefting meat hooks, cleavers, and bone saws. Ichor dripped from their mouths, and diseased fluid spilled from their cleaved bowels like small waterfalls. Around them, things slithered over the ground, coming closer and closer to the undead paladin. They seemed to be compilations of unwanted organs and other refuse. A crippled hand dragged a pile of mashed brains around. A few intestines pulled a pulsing green blob behind it. All surged towards her, grabbing at her ankles, trying to knock her down.
Ketala took in a slow breath. Holy light spread out around her, gently washing over these unfortunate byproducts of darkness and disease. The organs and limbs all began to shudder and then one by one went very still, their unlife snuffed out by her blazing aura. She turned her attention back to the abominations, and fire shot down the length of her blades.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "You both look fresh. This might never have happened if I'd grown a spine a few days sooner." She crossed her scimitars and played them against each other, forming a fireball between them. Then she drew the blades apart and slashed forward. The fireball rushed forward, a smokescreen spitting up behind it. The fireball smashed into the face of one abomination and exploded, melting its eyes and removing the bulk of its head. The other flailed about in the smoke and then collapsed as Ketala's scimitars cut through the back of its thighs. The two monsters continued to flail, despite the fact that one was hamstrung and one was blind.
Ketala whirled around and came at them again. She stabbed and slashed, ripping them open and spilling their contents to the ground. When they stopped moving, she lit them both on fire and moved on, ignoring the smell of their sizzling flesh.
Further into the wing, she found undead scientists who had conducted experiments on their own bodies and merged their flesh with foreign objects. One sported tentacles instead of arms, and a few were hooked up to machines.
They cowered when she entered, hiding in corners and under tables. Like the Forsaken, they felt the soul-searching power of Ketala's terrible gaze, and they hid from her monstrous vengeance. The undead paladin looked around, locating each and every one of them with her eyes. They had done these experiments, had created these poor creatures. There would be no mercy. Not one of them could offer a plea that would justify what they had done.
Ketala slapped her blades together. Death had come.
She bolted forward, heading for several of the scientists who were huddled under an operating table. Her blades gleamed in the sickly candle light, and then slashed forward and became slick with red. Screams and other sounds of panic echoed through the chamber. Ketala whirled and saw that some of the experimenters were trying to leave. Her eyes narrowed, and she changed course, sprinting after them, ignoring the words they shouted her way. She heard nothing, saw nothing but justice. Her blades flit back and forth, and chunks of rotting green flesh went spinning to the ground. More screams. More hacks and slices and death. These were monsters. Horrible, disgusting monsters. They deserved to die- every last one of them!
She snarled, chasing after them when they tried to flee, deaf to their pleas for mercy. Her aura began to blaze hotter and hotter with her anger, until it was more fire than anything else, the holy energy receding considerably. That aura reached out and grabbed at those outside her reach, burning them, tossing them around. When she was done, not one had escaped. They- all of them- laid in tattered pieces strewn on the ground and smeared over the walls. Ketala stood in the middle of it all, breathing in and out heavily, her whole body shaking.
"Monsters," she said venomously, an expression of rage still twisting her mouth and hardening her eyes. Her flaming aura stabbed at her surroundings and vaporized a few scattered remains. "Monsters!" she snarled again, louder this time. The word reverberated off the cold stone walls and bounced back at her: "Monster… monster… monster…"
Ketala swallowed hard, looking up at those walls as if searching for something. Her hands clenched tightly around her sword hilts. "MONSTERS!" she shouted, and the words came back even louder that before, thrown back in her face. She grimaced and then dropped her head, defeated.
She had lived in this place and had stayed silent for so long. Was she any less to blame for what had happened within Naxxramas' walls? Her flaming aura wrapped around her, heating up the air in an uncomfortable manner, and she shook with anger and pain.
"Pleeaasee! Please, no!" The screams punctured through her drunken fury, piercing the fiery haze that threatened to consume her. Ketala blinked and lifted her head. Her flaming aura cooled somewhat, and white tendrils of holy light became visible once more. She strained her ears, uncertain if she had heard correctly.
"Noo!" Ketala blinked. The words were distant but still decipherable, deep in pitch but infantile in delivery, as if being shouted by a small child. They echoed from somewhere deeper in the Abomination Wing and pierced straight to the depths of her heart. Ketala swung around to stare in the direction of the pleas, fully alert and aware. "Stop!" the voice screamed. "Stop- no! NO!" She took a step forward, and then another and another, zoning in on those cries, letting them fill her, drive her.
Someone needs my help? Her mind whispered, bewildered and yet hopeful. Someone needs me… She bolted forward, pursuing the calls, searching for their origins. Undead lumbered into her path. She casually wove her blades through them, sent her fire after them, and above all never ceased to run. If someone needed her help, then she was not going to fail them.
"PLEASE!" the voice wailed miserably.
Ketala's mind shot forward, clawing past the Lich King's mental blocks, ignoring the agony that rippled through her as Ner'zhul sought to oppress her. She cast aside all the terrible images he strove to toss her way, and felt around, grasping, trying to find the thing whose screams echoed throughout the Abomination Wing.
And then quite suddenly, she found him. His mind was curled up on itself and crying helplessly. Slow, intense bursts of pain rocked against the edges of Ketala's consciousness like hammer blows; a weak ghost of a similar pain the frail little mind was now enduring. With every blow he cried out in fear and hurt, and beneath his agony she could feel a steadily growing rage, a desire to stop the pain by any means, to rend, to destroy, to break anything that dare try and harm him.
Ketala regarded him silently, baffled as to why such a mind would be in the Abomination wing. This was a child. A sentient, horribly abused child. She reached her mental presence forward and brushed softly against his mind. When he did not respond she touched him again, more insistently. His presence gave a small cry, and he huddled up further on himself. Ketala pulled back reflexively and eyed him, and it occurred to her that he might have been subjected to mental torments. Sympathy wafted from her mind to his, and he slowly turned his attention to her, confused by why she made no attempt to harm him. He was shaking; his mind was starting to fray at the edges, spreading out into a senseless mess of trauma. Ketala reached out to him again, radiating a sense of calm.
"I heard you crying," she said softly. "What's wrong?"
A particularly nasty blow of pain smashed into the poor thing, causing him to cry out both mentally and physically. His tortured screams were quite audible from where Ketala was located. "They hurt me! Make them stop! Please, make them stop!"
"I'm far, but I'm coming."
"Help!"the mind begged pathetically. "Please- Help me- Save me!"
"I'm coming," she murmured soothingly. "Hold on. I'm coming. I'm coming."
It was perhaps ironic that fate chose that precise moment to throw a locked door in Ketala's face.
Ketala grunted and rushed into another room. She skidded to a halt and blinked at the vast chamber ahead of her. A large staircase wound up one side of it and ended in a very large and sturdy door, with a massive bronze lock set its center. As was only proper, the door was guarded by a giant, unique, and very ugly undead monster.
It was built thick with muscle and fat, but sported no stitches or other signs of being sewn together. One of its arms had been replaced by a thick bronze gauntlet. The other had been shorn off at the wrist and capped with a bubble of green slime and a sharpened needle two feet in length.
Considerably more disturbing than its lack of hands was the fact that the monster also had no face. Instead, a great tube jutted forward out of the front of its head, spiraled around and through its body, and eventually plugged into its gut. Despite the fact that it was obviously blind, it seemed to know she was there, and began descending the stairs the instant she stepped into the chamber. The undead paladin grimaced in dismay and scraped her blades together nervously. I have no time for this! She hissed quietly to herself, looking for some way out of this battle. That mind, that voice, I need to get to him quickly-
"I hope you like my pet," came a candied voice. Ketala spun around and looked up. A small balcony jutted out from the side wall of the chamber, and a mage was perched on its ledge. Great steel belts were wrapped around his face, covering both of his eyes, and black slime dripped from between them. As far as Ketala could tell, he was blind- a useful handicap against her debilitating gaze. As the undead paladin watched, he lifted an apple to his mouth and took a bite out of it, and pondered its taste for a moment. "His name is Grobbulus," the mage said in an off-hand fashion. "The key to the door is on his person. You won't leave this room without killing him."
"Or I can just take him over and have him hand the key to me," Ketala said darkly.
The mage gave a rotten, toothy, juice-and-pulp-dripping smile at her words, and leaned further over the edge. "Try," he goaded.
Ketala blinked at this response and then turned towards the approaching Grobbulus. She reached forward, trying to find whatever tattered mind this monster possessed, so that she might draw it under her sheltering wing. Much to her dismay, she found nothing within the folds of Grobbulus's thick skull. He had no mind. He was just a puppet. Looking back up at the balcony, Ketala could guess the identity of the puppeteer. Rage threatened to cloud her face, but a pitiful cry from deeper in the Abomination Wing restored her focus and reason.
"Have him let me through," she demanded. The mage pursed his lips and then took another bite of the apple.
"Why should I?" he asked. Ketala took in a slow, steadying breath. She was about to respond when he suddenly spoke again: "You killed my peers because they made creatures like Grobbulus. And if you get through, you'll be all too happy to kill me."
Ketala frowned, but the persisting screams reminded her time was short. "I give you my word not to harm you if you let me through."
"Your word?" he asked, and he clicked his tongue against the inside of his mouth. "Useless."
"I keep my word. I am a paladin," she said icily, her anger getting the better of her.
At that, he gave a large, toothy grin. "Not for long," he answered forebodingly.
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't have time for this, or for you. I want only to get to the source of those screams. Let me through and I shall do you no harm!"
"Ahh…" he said, suddenly understanding the source of her ire. "Him. Brilliantly designed creature that one is… But I'm afraid I can't help you. If you are forced to defeat Grobbulus, you will have even less time to waste on me, and I'll be even safer. Unless, of course, you hunt me down just out of spite- but that wouldn't be a very paladin-ish thing to do, would it? No, no my dear. Better I obey my master and make every impediment to your journey. If you want to pass, you must kill my puppet, and quickly."
He gave a large and devious smile, and then vanished, leaving her alone with his monster. A long time ago, Ketala would have been intrigued by the nature of this undead mage, would have made a mental note to seek him out and better understand his abilities. But now she screamed in frustration and whirled on Grobbulus, her flaming aura intensifying. Anger, misery, and desperation guided her actions, and she ran full force for the monster, slicing at his arms with all her strength.
Grobbulus led with his bronze fist.
(Zangarmarsh)
Ember was intrigued. She had jumped upon yet another nether ray, determined to get in one last wild ride before the day ended. Much to her surprise, this nether ray had barely responded to the sudden pounce. It had grunted, shifted its weight, and gone back to eating. There was no racing, no italicized "zooming," nothing. The nether ray simply went about its business, as if being pounced upon by small, demonically possessed night elves was simply part of its daily routine.
Ember blinked and gave a slight bounce in the hopes that the ray would be spurred to action, but the creature just grumbled and flexed its wings, obviously unimpressed. The tranquil response triggered Ember's curiosity, and the little girl took some time to examine the creature she was sitting upon. It was a large beast - three times as large as any nether ray she'd seen yet. Its body was laced with ropey scars, and several chunks were missing from its wings. Great red eyes glowed from the depths of its jagged face, and its tails stretched out a good six feet behind it.
Ember lifted a clawed hand and rubbed her chin and throat thoughtfully for the first time in her life. This simple gesture was remarkable in that it had not come from Illidan, Nature, or even Archimonde (who had also rubbed his chin on occasion, but not quite in the same fashion, or for the same reasons), but rather from Furion, who occasionally stroked his beard while concentrating. The tauren elder took note of this, and considered that perhaps she was not as distant from the old druid as one might have imagined.
In any event, the little girl eyed the nether ray for a moment, and then bit down experimentally on its wing. More amused than irritated, the creature turned its head and nipped almost playfully at her face. Ember gave a big grin and released the wing. She spread her arms out over the breadth of the nether ray and gave it a big hug.
"I'll call you 'Nana,'" she decided. The nether ray made a harmless growling noise in response, and purred when she scratched the fleshy panels over its eyes.
(Naxxramas)
"PLEASE!" the mind screamed, nearly on the verge of shattering. Ketala snarled, jumping backwards and clearing the punching motion of Grobbulus's needle by no more than a few inches. She skittered further and further from the monster and scraped her scimitars against each other angrily. Every one of her hairs was standing on end, and her stomach rolled and fluttered in anxiety. Her heartbeats shoved heavily against the inside of her chest, urging her on, screaming that she could not fail. In the corner of her vision, she could see the specter of Arthas grinning. His energy crashed down on her, jerking her further away from the mind she sought to save.
He needs me. I don't have time for this! I have to get to him!
She glared up at the mindless abomination lumbering towards her, poisonous gasses leaking from his filthy pores.
"Tick, tock, tick, tock." Ketala's eyes widened as she realized the source of that voice: the specter. If she could hear his words again, her defenses were wearing thin against his mental assault. She took an unsteady step backwards, and his laughter rushed in on her, wrapped around her and shut out the majority of her world. "Run, run, run, as fast as you can, little Ketala… You'll still never get there in time."
"Stop it! Please- help me!"
The words were not Ketala's. They belonged to that agonized, childish voice, to the being that needed her aid. The voice was more urgent, more broken. He would not hold out much longer. He needed her now. She slapped her scimitars together again, and prepared herself to charge at the disgusting Grobbulus. She'd prove Arthas wrong, she'd get through in time, she'd-
He's provoking me. The realization fell upon her skull like a tone of bricks and she faltered, lowering her swords. The paladin looked to the lumbering abomination and then turned and bolted in the opposite direction. "Aero," she murmured, and flame left her scimitars to be replaced by blue gusts of air. Ketala glanced up at the ceiling. Ahead of her was the balcony that Grobbulus's undead mage had perched on just minutes ago. She bolted straight toward it, twirling her scimitars in little circles. She had to do this, had to get out of Grobbulus's range, just for a moment. She reached the wall at a full blown run and lifted a foot, setting it down horizontally on the cold stone. Her scimitars arced up and then down like the wings of a bird, and huge gusts of air spiraled around beneath her, propelling her vertically up the wall. Her swords whirled behind her, gathering up more energy. Another sweep of her blades sent her up to skim against the roof, and she landed with a loud clang (she was in full plate after all) upon the balcony.
Ketala took a second to reorient herself and look around. The balcony had no door. It was a stone slab that jutted out from the wall and seemed to fold back on itself, as if to snuggle tightly against the wall from whence it came. As its former resident could apparently teleport, Ketala did not find this odd. Below her, Grobbulus attempted to hit her by shooting gobs of slime into the air. He was unsuccessful. Satisfied, Ketala leaned back against the far wall of the balcony, and then slowly closed her eyes. The first time Ketala had gone to Northrend, Nathanos had given her words of caution. He had warned her that no fight against Ner'zhul was a test of swords; rather, it would be a battle of willpower and cunning.
Now, in Naxxramas, Arthas was working furiously to repress her mental reach. That had to mean something. Taking his oppression as a clue, Ketala forced her senses forward again, wrapping her mind fiercely around the tormented being she sought to reach and protect. Immediately the mind reattached itself to her, begging and pleading for help. His thoughts were frayed and broken now, a clear indication that he did not have much time left.
Ketala could not yet reach him physically, but she could be with him mentally. There had to be something she could do for him at this range. Her mind dashed furiously through the possibilities. At last she tried to reach into his mind, to push away his perception of pain, but he was already on the verge of panic, and his brain was filled with chaotic whirls. Unable to find what mental functions were associated with his pain she had to abandon that course.
There had to be something else! Something! Anxiety began etching itself into her features. Her muscles tensed and her mouth moved into a grim line. Despite her soothing presence, she could feel him fracturing apart. The rage he had buried deep inside him was starting to surface, a volatile madness threatening to explode. But there had to be something! Some means of soothing him, of calming him down long enough to blot out his perception of pain. Before she dared to fight this "Grobbulus," before she dared to move on from where she was perched, she needed to make sure that this fragile mind she held would endure.
"I don't even know if I can block his pain," she murmured, her tone unusually strained. Panic was starting to seep into her own mind, and it was only further damaging him. She had to calm herself down. Had to calm him down. Had to try something. Had to-
"Go to sleep now," she suddenly murmured, the lullaby spilling out from the recesses of her brain, "little baby; Lay down your head." Memories began coalescing in the back of her skull: phrases and notes she'd overheard a lifetime ago, safe within Stormwind's walls; a tune she had heard repeated in so many places, always with slightly different words. "Do not cry, love, I am lis'ning, Toss away all your dread."
The mind quivered, reaching out to her, examining her. The next lines not only transferred from her mind to his, but also commandeered the use of her mouth, and began flooding the chamber around her,
"Close your eyes and don't you cry now,
"Baby safe in my arms.
"I shall hold you, I shall shield you,
"Keep you safe from all harm."
The frail mind clung tightly to her, craving her protection and drinking in her words. His thoughts began to settle and relax. The pain he was in was terrible, but he had never heard music before. He had never heard such beautiful words or such loving tones. Overcome by them, he was able to ignore the pain, even if just for a moment. Relieved beyond measure, Ketala reached delicately into his mind searching for the part of him that felt pain.
"Listen to my heartbeat, steady drumming by your ear;
"Feel my arms encircle round you, nevermore, love, should you fear."
Her senses alighted upon a battered and overused region of his pain, and it seemed to her that this part of him felt the piercing strikes of agony most clearly. Terrified that she might be wrong, but having little other choice, she closed her senses around that part of him, and carefully pushed it aside.
"I will hold you tight against me, and will never let you go,
"And if you fall I'll kiss your bruises, for I promise you that I'll be near."
The mind shivered in surprise, and clung to her in fear. The "hammer blows" of pain seemed dimmer now, as if muffled by a thick curtain. Ketala leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes to slits.
"I am here to protect you;
"I will blanket you with love,"
Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In time with her heartbeat. Beat and breathe, and beat and breathe. Her eyelids fluttered lightly, her eyes starting to turn orange and yellow.
"Dry your eyes and lean against me,
"Can you hear the roosting of the doves?"
Red began to swirl into her eyes, growing darker, and deeper, until it had blotted out all other colors.
"In the distance, horse hooves rumble, and the night lark starts to sing;
"Marshland frogs begin to bellow, clicking reeds in breeze do sway."
Her eyes shut momentarily and then opened a bright red, their pupils contracted to tiny dots. When she grabbed the hilts of her swords, she was no longer acting consciously. Independent of her mind, her body drew the scimitars and then launched forward, hurtling meteorically off the ledge. Flames rippled down their length as they plunged through Grobbulus's obese form.
"Towering oaks begin to grumble, as the world beneath them rocks;
"And the dancing crickets chirrup and start to thrum a soft refrain."
The elemental in Ketala danced around the wild punches and precise stabs of her enemy, cutting open slices all over his massive girth. Her swords put nicks in his metal tubes, spilling out ghastly fluids and causing him to flounder. He spit forward clouds of poison and explosion of green slime, but she would dive out of the line of fire and within seconds her twirling swords were taking more chunks out of his putrid hide. She danced forward and backward, her blades spinning around her, brilliant energy wafting from their sharp edges.
"As the rain patters down around us,
"And the wolf howls in the west,
"Let the sounds of nature lull you,
"Let them send you off to rest,"
The pleading screams in the distance ceased. The little mind nestled itself into her comforting embrace, listening as she sent him memories of these sounds and the sensations they produced. Every new image and sound seemed to fascinate him, and Ketala realized that he had never felt the wind on his face or listened to trees creak. He had been born in Naxxramas, and he knew nothing of the world.
So much like her Vaiden…
The thought made her hold him even tighter, and spurred her body to even greater feats of speed and strength.
"The sky is made of velvet, rich purples thread with black,
"And the stars like ivory sugar drops are dancing round your head,"
With an elegant motion, it was over. A scimitar ripped straight into a weakened portion of Grobbulus's tubing, and cut the massive pipeline in half. The creature gurgled, choked, wavered, and then finally fell, splashing down into a puddle of its own vile fluids. Ever pragmatic, the elemental put her blades through its head and chest before feeling over its cold bulk for the key it carried. Unable to find one among its meager possessions, she took her blades and hacked open its thick stomach.
A large bronze key tumbled out, and she swept it up and headed to the door, all in one fluid motion.
"Oh the moon, she is a beauty, Mother Earth watching over you,
"So you dry your eyes, now, little baby, and listen close to what I've said:"
The heavy doors banged open, and the elemental continued her journey into the Abomination Wing. In the next chamber there were more undead scientists and more abominations. The former fled from her, and she sprinted past the latter. Mindless, her body continued onward. It passed through several great chambers, focused on its goal in a way no mere mortal could ever be.
"Dear, I love you, I adore you,
"Let my love be your light.
"I will save you, I will keep you
"I will guard you through the night."
In one of the final chambers there was a hound with a great key about its neck. Unfazed the elemental charged. The elemental dashed under the monster's snapping jaws, tore the key from its neck, and then continued, dodging its attempts to rip her apart. A low doorway halted its progress, and still she ran, forging onward.
"Close your eyes now,
"Hear my music,
"Lay down your head."
At last she came to a great doorway, standing many feet high, and with a great lock also sent in its center. The elemental thrust her newest key into the lock and gave a turn. The doors opened. The mission was complete.
"Little baby,
"I'll protect you,
"Sleep now in your bed…"
Ketala gasped as both she and the elemental slammed back into one being. The shock caused her back to arch, and her eyes to roll back into her head. She took a sharp breath and then screamed as Ner'zhul's presence suddenly bore down on her, tearing her away from the mind she sought to protect. A deep exhaustion settled into the marrow of her bones, and she slipped to her knees, giving little cries of pain and confusion.
The undead paladin could feel something undead approaching her, but could not rise, could not even lift her head. She gasped over and over again, like a fish out of water, trying to regain control over herself. It was no use.
Ketala might have fallen then and there. Two wights had approached her, and were ready to bind her and drag her off to the Lich King in chains. She might have given in, but for the terrified scream that suddenly echoed through the room.
Both elemental and paladin knew that voice. Ketala jerked her head up, hazily looking across the room. Against the opposite wall, a hundred yards away, was a being. He was very tall, although his actual dimensions escaped her nauseated brain at the moment, and chained to a strange device. Every few seconds, a bolt of lightning was channeled through him, and he bucked and screamed in pain and fear. Her eyes widened at the sight, instincts shooting from the base of her skull to all her various muscles. She struggled to her feet, her whole body shaking with the effort.
"No-NO! Don't leave me! DON'T LEAVE ME! HELP ME! SAVE ME!" the electrocuted creature began to scream. He was looking at her- he could see her, and he knew exactly who she was.
Needs me.
Two giant, ghoulish wights loomed over her, coming closer and closer, their fingers waggling in the air like grotesque worms, their jaws snapping noisly above her head.
Needs. Me.
Ketala's hands tightened on her scimitars. "Pyro," she murmured. Flames burst up from their tips, wrapping around her in a brilliant red aura. She couldn't concentrate hard enough to direct her swords, so she put all her will and strength into that aura, and stretched it out. The flaming tendrils ripped through the air, snapping painfully at the two wraiths and keeping them at bay. Ketala bathed in their power, in her power, trying to recover. Splitting into her elemental and sentient halves had taken a lot out of her; the last time Ketala had done so, she had been fatigued for weeks afterward. This time, she didn't have weeks. She had to regain control over herself. Now.
"HELP ME! PLEASE!"
Necromancer Grygus Blackbone snorted at the electrocuted creature. The increased volume of his pleas indicated that he was quickly approaching the critical stage, and that his electric therapy was almost at its end. Grygus turned to a nearby machine and carefully turned up the voltage just a little more. The last time the creature had gotten to this stage, he'd suddenly broken free and calmed down again, with no rhyme or reason to it. Grygus wanted to make sure that didn't happen again.
"Wow. He's a screamer, isn't he? That's why I made my Grobbulus with his mouth all plugged up."
Grygus lifted his head to look in annoyance at the blind mage standing before him. "What is it you want Cheshire?" He asked with a low growl. "As you can see, I'm busy subduing my newest masterpiece. Something far greater than anything you've ever pieced together, I might add."
"I can see that," the blind mage answered with a large and devious smile- the smile that had earned him his moniker. "But have you noticed that the Lich King's stray paladin has wandered into your lab? She's causing quite a fuss too, I might add."
Grygus blinked and turned his head, and was surprised to see the undead woman standing at his doorstep, wreathed in an aura of flame. Both of his wights had gone to confront her, but neither appeared to be faring well. The necromancer cursed lightly, aware that he'd been embedded too deeply into his work to even notice the paladin. He'd almost missed the chance to capture her and return her to Arthas-
But then… "And why haven't you tried to capture her, Cheshire?" he turned to ask the mage, only to find that the elusive man was no longer there. Grygas Blackbone lifted a brow, but didn't let it get to him. After all, Cheshire was an exceptionally flighty creature, and his methods rarely made much sense. Putting a pipe right in the face of his creation, after all… Ludicrous! Grygus rolled up his sleeves and began to walk towards the female, the words of a spell forming on his lips.
(Zangarmarsh)
"Zul'vii! Zul'vii! Look what I've found!"
The half troll in question didn't know whether to sigh in relief or disappointment, she was so relieved to hear Ember's voice. Zul'vii had spent the better part of the day looking for the girl, and all her efforts had proven fruitless. She'd been wondering how she was going to explain to Furion that she'd lost his daughter in the middle of the Zangarmarsh.
In any event, Ember came crashing through the forest and hopped up to Zul'vii, almost wetting herself she was so excited.
"Look where?" the tired and confused troll asked in bewilderment. Ember blinked and looked first to her left, and then to her right, and then all the way behind her, before she realized that she and Zul'vii were alone.
"Oh, hold on!" she amended, and she turned and rushed back into the forest. Zul'vii blinked and lifted a brow at Ember's ensuing: "Come on, don't be shy! She won't hurt you!" After these entreaties didn't work, Ember tried something different. "She has some tasty marsh lichen dumplings in her pocket," she said, whereupon a giant nether ray suddenly bolted out of the forest and tackled the halftroll, and began to strip her of all marsh lichen dumplings.
"Ember?" Zul'vii inquired as she laid flat on her back with a large and very dangerous looking nether ray hovering above her. "Did we just find that pet you wanted?"
"I call her Nana!" the little girl answered happily.
"I see, I see," Zul'vii said understandingly. "Well alright, but a pet's a lot of work! You're going to have to gather all the marsh lichen we'll need to feed her, and you'll have to play with her all the time. And you're going to have to keep her clean and presentable- I don't want to see any swamp scum caking up her tails."
"I will, Zul'vii, I promise!"
"Well, so long as you promise. Okay, Nana, welcome to the party."
The nether ray growled appreciatively. Zul'vii held very still out of a deep and integral desire to keep her fingers attached to her hands.
The Lullaby that Ketala sings for Thaddius is my own personal creation. I have created an MP3 of it, and have uploaded it to a generic file upload site. The URL for this site is in my profile, so anyone who wants to listen to the music, can.