Straydog Saga

Flea 27: Secrets of Mydrassil Part 1: The Raven and the Roots

The silent night hung in the presence of Elune's symbol. No clouds concealed its brilliance or the activity below. The wyvern that carried the burden that was Highraven let out a disgruntled growl as it struggled to find its way over the vast moonlit ocean. The wind began to stir the closer she got to the mystic tree, which glowed of its own accord in the distance. The wyvern was capable of much faster speed but Highraven kept it in sync with the black, lightless dot below. The small boat, supposedly chartered by Bodyl and the representatives of his alchemist's guild, rose and fell with the wicked tide as those who floated with it felt their bones begin to rattle.

Shandori had convinced the group, with Christoffel's endorsement, to embark on the quest via the pulling of heart strings for those with kind souls and the tugging of purse strings for the rest. Even Maiev, with her intentions and mind locked away behind her haunted eyes, ventured with the rest of the sorted group via a chartered, privately owned hippogryph with to the dangerous shores of Azshara and onto the rocking boat that seemed to torment Shandori with every dip and rise. While the others rested comfortably in the boat's tiny cabin, the warrior was forced by her nervous and sea-battered stomach to linger near the edge with her face focused on the churning deep. She felt a hand on her back as she moved her face further over the edge with a lurch. Christoffel winced at the sight and sound.

"If you don't stop we'll have to fight a trail of sharks before we even get there." Chris joked as he moved to pull the afflicted night elf's hair back. She would have thanked him but a small wave hit the boat and caused a wave of another sort from within the depths of Shandori.

"I… fucking hate…the oceaNNUH" She heaved.

"Are you going to be able to do this?"

"Yuh, yah once… once I get somewhere solid." She spat with a dry heave. As the glowing beacon in the distance grew closer, Shandori felt her queasy stomach begin to settle just as her nerves began to quiver in its majesty. Though the trunk and branches were blinding to behold, the roots themselves were dark and dim in comparison.

The east dock was deserted as the Twilight's Hammer cultists planned. When the boat finally reached the tree-lit wooden platform, Shandori finally felt the welcomed sensation of solid wood beneath her boots. From the darkened root-made entrance came several cloaked figures dressed in mint colored fabric, rather than their usual violet and black. A single purple leaf on the back of their cloaks was the only adornment and easily missed clue to their true nature. One in their number, a human male, greeted them with a hushed tone.

"Lord Bodyl, I'm glad this humble one finds you well." Trenton spoke in the most demure tone he was capable of uttering. The young mage, both instrumental in facilitating the Twilight Hammer's plan as well as his mother's own subterfuge bowed his head.

"Is everyone in position?" Bodyl curtly spoke as the rest of his mercenaries disembarked from the vessel.

"Yes sir. You're clear to enter the roots. We've successfully disabled the roots' defense system for the next ten minutes. Any longer and it will sound a timed alarm. We will begin our assault on the trunk as soon as you give the word…"

"You will wait until we get to the Pinnacle Bough. Until then, only act in shadows is that understood?" Trenton bowed low with an apologetic nod.

"Yes sir. The trunk is quiet; all but the night watch are asleep. You should have no trouble…" Trenton moved as Bodyl called his mercenaries to him.

"I shall assist our agents within the trunk. Good luck, tend to their wounds should any befall them, my sister." Balumbra bowed as Pashima gave a smiling nod. Shandori looked to the beaming draenei and shook her head. She looked to Christoffel whose wide eyes mirrored her own thoughts.

"Are you sure she shouldn't go with you too? She might get hurt…" Christoffel interjected.

"My sister is more resilient than you think. She will be of great help, I can assure you." Balumbra gave a strained smile.

"We do not have time to discuss the matter; we must hurry before we are discovered." Bodyl hissed. The surly dwarf instructed his mercenaries to follow him into the gnarled depths. Ima felt a shutter from within one of her bags. She gently pat the container in which her Dryad's Delight named Herbert huddled among her reagents. The action did little to soothe the trembling plant or her own quivering heart. The sparse light hit the roots with a sinister sheen. Each shadow seemed like a lingering evil, each root a dagger waiting to strike. She felt a gentle hand come to her shoulder with a firm squeeze. Meryld smiled at the younger woman and gave her a quiet but reassuring nod.

Bodyl lead them through a gnarled and winding path with confident strides. The notes he studied from his subordinates mentioned the treacherous nature of the roots and their maze-like annals. He stopped frequently to check the detailed map, ensuring they were on the right path to the portals. Time ticked on as the group progressed into the heart of the Tangled Canal. Shandori twitched as an ice cold drop of water hit the tip of her left ear, causing her to audibly shiver. The action earned her a quick and sharp "shh!" from F-bomb who looked to the streaming, root-made walls with suspicion. Ima, who waded through the puddles in cloth shoes, could not help but mimic Shandori's action.

"This place is awful. I'm getting all cold and wet." Ima whispered as she desperately tried to avoid the cold puddles in the dim light.

"Who'a you talkin' to, bean-stalk?" F-bomb hissed as she found her own clothing soaked to mid-thigh. Her struggle to wade through the water made the floor around them ripple as Bodyl turned to silence the banter with a stern look. F-bomb felt a pair of strong blue hands lift her from her cold and watery enemy and place her in a sitting position on a pair of strong, upright shoulders.

"Better?" Ima asked with a kindly smile. F-bomb gave a thankful nod, trying not to drip onto Ima's fine feathered shoulder-mantle. As they approached what looked like a glowing dot at the end of a wide hallways Bodyl smirked.

"We're almost there, the portal is just…" Bodyl felt his tongue freeze. The water at their feet began to move. It was slow at first but as the seconds ticked by the rush nearly sent the group falling backwards. "Shit!"

"What's happening? I thought they disabled it!" Shandori shouted as the sandy ground beneath her boots began to dry. Ima quickly placed the goblin back on the ground, allowing her to summon a grounding totem in case hidden enemies tried to get in a quick strike.

"We must have tripped it somehow…or taken too long." Bodyl spoke as sweat began to pool on his brow. Two water elementals, that were twice as tall as Imajin, coalesced from the chilly water as their leader began to take shape. The massive water elemental, known to the root-workers as Mizuon, appeared in a swirling mass of water, debris, and root-made armor.

"Do you have an appointment? You cannot gain audience with my master unless you have an appointment…" Mizuon rumbled with his great glowing eyes made of arcane energy fixed on the dwarf and his mercenaries. Though Mizuon wore little more than eyes and a wooden mask for a face, his tone spoke to his bemused sarcasm.

"We have an appointment with reckoning. Your master will pay for his ambition!" Bodyl shouted, causing Mizuon to utter a strange, fluid chuckle.

"The master spoke of your coming, lowly dwarf. Prepare to be expunged!" Mizuon roared as he lifted his great hand like appendages in summoning. As Mizuon focused on its spell, the two smaller but still imposing water elementals mounted an attack. The group scrambled to avoid bolts of pure ice as they crashed into the surrounding root wall, cutting through the wooden walls like sharp arrows. Shandori's brow furrowed as she felt one of the icy bullets graze her cheek. She dodged the projectiles, allowing only one to strike her weathered shield as she began hacking at the closest elemental. The angered being stopped shooting at her associates and focused all its efforts on removing the night elf from its proximity.

"Get it!" She shouted as the remainder of her force quickly got over their shock to take up arms against the water warriors. She motioned to the other elemental that was still shooting vicious barbs at the rest of her group. Maiev, ever observant, followed Shandori's lead. Though she had no shield and her muscles were still a little sore from her last big encounter, her agile movements made her a very difficult target, even for the fluid strikes of a water elemental. With both elementals occupied, the rest of the group split and began chipping away at the elemental soldiers as the watery warriors desperately tried to buy time for Mizuon's summoning spell.

While those who used blades found it difficult to make any headway with their slushy strikes, Imajin and F-bomb's vicious spells seemed to batter the elementals with explosive damage. Water droplets burst from their wavering forms as the water elementals struggled to keep themselves together. Shandori could feel her shoulder begin to ache as a steady pain in her swinging arm made it progressively harder to maintain her brutal assault. The elemental's attention seemed to shift to Ima, whose arcane blasts seemed to aggravate it far more than Shandori's hacking swings.

"Ima, lay off a minute!" Shandori cried as the water elemental turned to return a volley of icy shards to the troll mage. But a hard chop to the area where its eyes should have been brought the water-warrior's attention back to Shandori. It was then that Shandori felt a familiar energy wash over her. Potan had cast a nature spell that bolstered her arm and healed the tearing muscles within. She could feel her energy and strength slowly return the longer his spell lasted.

"Potan, heal Maiev, she needs it more! Pashima, if you can heal, keep an eye on me instead." Shandori instructed, not turning to see if the pair did as she said. It wasn't until Shandori felt the strange energy of Pashima's healing on her aching back did she know her words were headed. She didn't have time to process what felt like healing power as the water elemental swung its heavy arm at her head. Shandori knew what the light of night elf priests felt like, but Pashima's energy felt distorted and heavy. Despite the strange sensation, Pashima's healing was more than enough to keep the warrior going as each strike seemed to slowly deform the fading elemental.

"Ours is almost dead, pick it up ova there!" F-bomb shouted as the focus of her attacks seemed unable to keep itself together for much longer.

"What's it matter?" Shandori asked.

"The elementals aren't made'a meat. If one dies before the other the other does, it can suck up the dead water and heal itself. If both die at once, they're just water!" F-bomb informed while casting what looked like a bolt of molten rock. Shandori nodded and rallied those on her elemental to pick up the pace. Though F-bomb's elemental died first, Christoffel deftly kicked the still living elemental as it tried to cast a spell that would consume its fallen comrade. Before the elemental could try again, its physical form was destroyed, leaving nothing but wetness in its wake.

"It is done; they shall not go in vain!" Mizuon shouted as he concluded the summoning spell. He eerily cackled as four tall, writhing roots burst from the sandy floor. "Feel the burden of the roots and despair!" Mizuon shouted as the freshly summoned roots began to blindly slash and jab at their targets. The group scrambled in their attempt to avoid the terrible strikes. During the chaos, the roots landed targets, each lifted from the ground and tossed around like rag dolls. All four found themselves enchased in thick bubbles as those remaining struggled to free them.

"E-Everyone get on them one at a time! We can get them down faster that way." Christoffel shouted as the remaining group began collectively hacking on the nearest root. As the roots constricted around their fragile forms, the four victims felt their minds slip to another time, a time each of them wished dearly to forget.

The first victim was taken to a hazy jungle. The island, located off the coast of Durotar was beginning to burn. A vicious witch doctor and his cohorts were destroying the homes of innocent trolls, forcing them out of their promised lands and into early graves. One tiny girl struggled to breathe in the thick smoke as the screams of her friends and family woke her from her usual nap.

"Ima, Ima get up, now! We need ta go!" The desperate mother called, bringing her daughter to the floor where the smoke was thinnest. The toddler clung to her mother's breast, trying to make sense of the terrible scene.

"Mama, where be Gogo?" Ima coughed as her mother crawled from their small hut and into the chaos. Ima's child mind drifted to her childhood "boyfriend" who she was supposed to visit after her nap. Despite his constant teasing and their mutual "frenemy" relationship her little heart beat wildly when the image of his small-tusked face could not be seen in the smoky carnage.

"Gogo's safe, just keep your head down, now!" Ima's mother did her best to keep her voice gentle as a body came down beside them. Ima's mother screamed as she ran into the jungle. Ima knew what terrible monsters lurked there, as her mother always warned her about them whenever she asked to play among the hidden raptors and tigers, but little Ima's mother seemed more scared of whatever caused the terrible fire. It was then Ima spotted a small family running beside them. Among the small collective was her beloved playmate. She gave him a smile and a wave, ignorant to the danger they were all in and pouted when the slightly older boy did not respond.

"Tiny Tusk! You so rude!" She shouted, her mother holding her head down. She tried to protest, eyes darting back to the other family.

"Shut up elf face!" the young boy managed to joke amidst his family's terror. Ima's innocent eyes were forever stained with the blood of her loved ones as a large javelin like spear came from the village, striking the other mother in the chest. The woman went down with a sickened thud. Her life mate could do nothing for her as he huddled his children around and begged them to keep running. When another terrible weapon came to strike the grieving father down, his children were left to cry and scramble among the dead. Ima's mother called to them to follow but she did not slow down.

"Gogo!" Ima called reaching behind as if to pull the crying boy to her. But he disappeared into the smoke, just as her mother reached the shore where several boats were waiting. Ima cried as the boys never emerged from the tall tropical trees, squirming in her mother's grasp. But the tiny girl was held tight, drifting away form everything she knew.

But just as the tiny Ima tried to leap from her mother's strong arms, the present Ima hit the sandy floor with a thud. Her mind was spinning as fresh tears streamed down her bruised cheek. Foggy voices called to her as a pale hand shook her into focus. She felt a strange spell wash over her. It seemed heavy, almost as if liquid metal was being pumped through her veins. But in a matter of seconds the friendly and worried face of Pashima came into clear focus. The draenei helped her to her feet as the group began freeing the next victim who also found themselves trapped in their memories.

The second victim was treated to a fog of darkness and muffled voices. When Marcus Mason came to, he was startled by two grave-faced men who seemed to be studying him. He was accustomed to waking up in the stocks with a mild hangover but nothing prepared him for the strange sensations he now endured.

"He's awake." Someone grumbled.

"I had to give him a double dose of the potion…it's a miracle he's not dead."

"A double what…" Marcus coughed; his voice seemed deeper, hoarser than he'd ever sounded in his life. He ran his long tongue along his now dagger-like fangs as his amber eyes went wide. He strained to look at his feet, which were now massive paws. He looked to his hands to see they too had transformed into claws capable of tearing into flesh as if it were made of curdled cream. He frantically tried to remember what had happened. The last thing he could recollect was coming home from the pub to find the city on high alert. When he arrived at his home, Marcus found his wife, Eliza, fully dressed and his young son oddly awake. In his haze he vaguely remembered his frantic wife quickly telling him about what was happening but his drunken mind struggled to register the danger they were in.

"What…" Marcus mumbled as his mind continued to replay the events. Once his wife had gathered their things she helped him back into his smoky coat, which he was starting to take off when he arrived at their modest home, and hurried him out the door. She led them on the main street in the direction of his mother-in-law's home when they were attacked by great furry shadows. The last thing he could recall was a pair of teeth coming down on his arm and a seeing pain that cause his mind and consciousness to give out.

"You can talk then, can you creature?" One of the men, a gray haired fellow in a top hat sneered.

"Where's my boy?" Marcus asked. Try as he might, he could not remember what had become of his small angel-faced son with eyes that matched his own, when he was human. "WHERE'S MY BOY!" He roared causing the gentler looking gentleman in tattered robes to wince. He desperately looked between them, eyes resting on the nobleman known to the good people of Gilneas as Lord Godfry.

Godfry and his patrol had shot the worgen responsible for placing the terrible curse on the Mason family and brought the two "tainted" adults to be treated. He collected the trembling youngster and, after carefully obtaining his name, placed Marcus James Mason Jr. in the care of his maternal grandmother. The old woman, who admired Godfry's poise and mirrored his attitude of her fallen children, took the pure boy in and gave Godfry detailed instructions on what to say to the tainted Masons should they find themselves conscious. The horrific instructions only served to put a much needed smile on the nobleman's face.

"Tragic, really. We should wait until he's more stable to…"

"You'll tell me NOW old man! Or I swear when I get out of 'ere I'll-"

"You'll what? It is by my mercy alone that you still live, beast." Godfry scoffed. "Poor child. He never stood a chance in the presence of such a wild mongrel…" Marcus felt a chill flow through him. He stammered as did his best to shake his head in disbelief.

"N-No…"

"Ah, don't remember that part do you? It was quite messy. One more terrible image I'll never get out of my head." Godfry snorted, trying not to laugh in delight over the wonderfully wicked woman's false story. Before the worgen who would come to be known as Daggerfang could relive the pained howl that erupted from his very soul he too felt reality crash into him as he hit a sandy floor. The room was spinning but sturdy hands found him.

"Get up!" Christoffel shouted, hoisting the beast to his feet just as the remains of the root that bore him came crashing right where his head would have been. "We have to get the others."

"R-Right." Daggerfang spoke with a ghostly emptiness as the two rogues began helping the others break the third victim free.

The third victim found herself in her old living room. It was lavishly decorated with all the finest curios and knickknacks goblin gold could buy. She had put her youngest to bed several hours prior and waited with a small cup of gnomish cocoa. The clock ticking in the background was her only companion. The occasional cricket would make comment as she stared at the tarnished ring in her hands. It was an object that used to bring tears of joy to her eyes whenever she looked at it. Now the hole that used to bear her ring finger threatened to burn a permanent void in her chest.

The door slowly opened. The outline of an ear listening for signs of life could be seen from where she sat. The goblin man came in and snuck through the living room as quietly as his roguish feet could muster. But the smell of whiskey and another woman's perfume screamed in the quiet night.

"Back so soon? Did she get bored with you?" Fabrizzia's voice was flat as she stared at the diamond in her grip. The sneaking goblin froze and turned to the kitchen where a dim candle burned. He walked in and did his best to stand up straight.

"Oh ah—H-Hey there Fabi. What are you doing up so late?"

"Don't play nice with me when you're wearing someone else's perfume like a FUCKIN BLANKET." She shouted, tears beginning to stream down her face. "That's Candy's perfume you CREEP! I was with 'er when she BOUGHT IT!"

"You're crazy!" he shouted with a slight slur.

"I've had it with you! You told me last time you were gunna stop!" She shouted, causing little Moe to wake and start to cry. Her elder two sons, both only a few years old themselves, sat listening by the stairs.

"What? A guy works all day long for his family and he can't have a little fun now and again? What's the big deal, she don't even mean nothing to me…" He froze. The alcohol mixed with hubris finally brought the truth. After years of suspicion, worry, and lonely nights Fabrizzia Bomberlock-Tognozzle took the expensive ring her husband presented to her all those years before and threw it at his feet. At the ring spun and came to rest on the cold floor, F-bomb came careening into the present once more. She screamed in fright and confusion as two sets of hands lifted her up before the group moved on to the last root.

The final victim walked between two rows of freshly harvested souls. Each body was hidden beneath pristine white cloth. She had survived many battles, including the one that claimed so many valorous lives. She felt numb from more than just the bitter winds and biting snow as her eyes focused on the empty space before her. She came to the end of the row where a Quel'Dorei nurse with a notepad waited. The Quel'dorei woman gently spoke to the younger human whose eyes seemed miles away.

"Your name, my lady?"

"Meryld Filmore."

"Who are you here to see?" The Quel'Dorei nurse opened the book of the dead and awaited the name. The scene was already beginning to shift as the group had three more in their employ to cut down the root that bore her. She felt tears escape her young eyes as she spoke the name of her beloved. The whispered name could not be heard as Meryld was taken from the root. Real tears came as Shandori and Maiev helped her to her feet.

"That the best you got?" Shandori shouted to Mizuon who crossed his arms and chuckled to himself.

"It is so easy to say for one who is unmarred by the roots. Why not ask your comrades, little one?" Mizuon verbally smirked. Shandori could feel Meryld trembling in her grasp as those who were touched by the roots seemed to exude a palpable sorrow. The will to fight had diminished in their eyes but their weapons and their spells were still able to be wielded if coaxed. "At any rate, I tire of this banal banter." Mizuon proclaimed as he summoned a glowing sword from within the swirling debris on his form.

"I was thinking the same thing." Shandori spat before charging in with renewed resolve. Pashima and Potan cast their mutual healing spells on the brazen warrior as those who were not root-touched equally charged in behind her. Those who were affected by their poisonous memories conducted a lack-luster effort but still managed to make a small dent in the great water elemental. Mizuon grunted at Bodyl's fighting force and summoned arcane pools of water beneath their feet. Shandori felt a surge of energy beneath her as small bolts of lightning began to scorch her flesh.

"MOVE!" she shouted as she ran around Mizuon, hoping the strange water would not follow. Most of the others followed suit but Imajin lingered in the pool, desperate to finish a complicated and lengthy fire spell. The pool beneath her began to grow, the longer she stood in its shimmering light the bigger it got.

"IMA MOVE!" Shandori shouted as the mammoth fireball finally burst from the troll's fingers. The steam it produced nearly choked those who fought close to Mizuon who groaned in pain. When Ima finally moved out of the water pool, there was very little safe ground to stand on. She tripped over an uneven spot on the sandy floor and fell forward, flat on her face.

"T-Tired." She panted, sweat soaking her form as struggled to stand again. F-bomb ran to her side and helped to troll up as Potan concentrated all of his focus on the ground around them.

"Goodness of the fertile earth, come to our aid!" Potan roared as tiny beams of light began trickling upwards. The whole group found whatever ailed them to be removed as the tranquil energy healed cuts on the flesh and of the spirit. Ima stood again, brushed the wet sand from her robes and continued her arcane and fiery assault. Mizuon felt his body begin to falter. He used a good portion of his strength to summon more arcane pools but the group knew what to expect. After several moments of valiant effort, Mizuon felt himself slip back to the elemental plane.

"I am, dry…" He hissed as the debris in its once mighty form was all that remained. They group stood, some falling to their knees, and began to recoup.

"Can we sit for a moment?" Christoffel asked before turning to look to a sweaty and panting Bodyl. The dwarf nodded, insisting they take no more time than was necessary as the group began to quench thirsts and bandage larger wounds. Shandori wasted no time sifting through the debris for any treasure, finding a glowing sword, the remains of a mighty elemental crown, and a glowing petrified root. She brought the objects to Imajin and Bodyl who studied the artifacts and found them to be of great worth.

After some negotiations, exchanging of gold, and other favors, Shandori found the glowing blue sword to be a great upgrade to her plain metal weapon. F-bomb fashioned the remains of Mizuon's great crown into a belt that seemed to increase her ability to cast elemental spells with greater speed. The petrified root, which was imbued with arcane energy, went to Ima to be made into a powerful fetish.

"We should move on. That was likely to get someone's attention." Bodyl gruffly spoke as his eyes desperately clung to the portal that was only a few steps away.

"Let's get going then, everyone good?" Shandori asked, looking to the four memory-stricken members. The youthful Ima nodded as her thoughts came back to the present. The elder three choked down the bitter pain and continued on without complaint. The group collected themselves and ran towards the portal to the trunk without further interruption.

"Enter the portal in pairs, in case of arcane traps or anomalies. If one of you gets stuck, the other can pull you out." Bodyl reasoned. With that, Bodyl and Daggerfang leapt in first, followed by F-bomb and Maiev. Potan and Meryld followed, allowing Ima and Pashima to jump in behind them. Just as Shandori and Christoffel ran towards the glowing arcane door, Christoffel felt something tug on the back of his cloak, nearly choking him as he was sent flailing backwards.

"Chris!" Shandori shouted trying to back peddle, but the portal already had her in its grip, sending her to the trunk of the tree alone. Christoffel fell backwards, deftly avoiding a swift kick to the stomach by a black-leather boot.

"Y-You!" Christoffel rasped as his green orbs met ones drenched in a bloody-red glow. "How the hell?"

"I followed you, of course. How fortunate that water beast didn't kill you." Highraven sweetly spoke as she grasped her twin daggers. Christoffel reached for the hidden throwing knife loosely buried in his boot.

"They said you were dead." Chistoffel recalled Shandori's telling of the events in Felwood.

"That's the funny thing about being Forsaken. Just because we're dead at the moment doesn't mean we stay that way, bastard!" She hissed, throwing a poisonous barb from one of her side pockets at his head. Christoffel bobbed to the side, avoiding the deadly strike before leaping forward to deliver his own. He tossed his throwing knife at his assailant only to have it deftly blocked by the broad side of a dagger. Using the left over momentum, Christoffel quickly grasped both of his daggers and thrust them forward. The mutilating strike was blocked and countered, nearly slicing off one of his ears. The pair exchanged a glinting barrage of deft cuts and jabs before Christoffel managed to garner enough space between them to land a hard kick to Highraven's stomach. While there was no breath to be taken from the dark ranger, the attack did send her to her back. But the position only lasted a few seconds before the nimble banshee was back on her feet.

"What do you want from me!" Christoffel shouted, wiping the small cut on his lip. Highraven's bloody vision narrowed. She grinded her teeth slightly as she spoke.

"You robbed me, Stingblade. You robbed me of my life, my beauty, and my pride. All for WHAT? So you can run around with some Alliance WHORE? What would your mother say?"

"You leave her out of this…" Christoffel growled, as the heat in his chest began to show in his red face.

"Oh, struck a nerve did I? You know she looked upon me as a daughter…until her beloved son arrived. And now you dishonor her so. I will have your blood for that!" Highraven spoke with poisonous precision. Her eyes went wide as a booming laughter and a small tear broke from within the rogue, rather than an expected rage-filled strike. The building anger within turned to calm amusement as he looked at her with spiteful eyes.

"My mother looked upon you like a little dog that wanted a treat, barking endlessly until she got a pat on the head. I bet you're so far up Sylvannas' ass she sends you to the front lines as often as my mother did…" Christoffel smirked at the opportunity as he struck, sending a bewildered and outraged Highraven on the defensive. Christoffel could feel something long buried begin to emerge. Something buried in his mind had sprouted in his time with Shandori and their growing collective. Each deft and controlled strike was barely blocked by the relic of the past, each step she took backed her into a corner. As the pair did battle the scene began to shift. The roots around them began to stir and seemingly take notice. They loosely swayed, whispering strange nothings as the fight between Christoffel and Highraven continued.

"You can't win, 'Stingblade.' I made you and I can un-make you!" Highraven shouted as flashes of their past began to stir in her mind. The balance of the battle shifted as fond memories tarnished by a death in servitude gave Highraven new resolve. She managed to land a hard strike to his midsection. His tough leather armor barely stopped the dagger from entering his gut. The roots swayed in anticipation, like blood-hungry spectators watching gladiators battle to the death. Christoffel was starting to fade as his life force acted like a weight around his straining neck. Drops of hot sweat joined the tepid sandy water beneath their boots. His lungs started to burn in his chest, as all he could hear in his clogged ears was his own labored breaths and thundering heart. Highraven grinned with delight as her un-living vigor knew no bounds. It was then one of the roots acted, grazing the back of Christoffel's leg.

A familiar scent came to his nose like a spring morning mist. It was the smell of expensive, high quality berry juice. He began to taste it on his parched tongue as the hints of rose, blueberry, and other invigorating flavors seemed to trickle into his senses. It was the same flavor he was treated to when Shandori held his broken form and poured the soothing liquid into his throat upon their first meeting. The sound of her crass voice, the sight of those sad eyes whenever he was in pain, the rare smiles that she only seemed to give him came to Christoffel like a rallying call.

Images of that night they shared jokes and smiles over the goblin bed streamed to his eyes like a water color painting over a grey day. Christoffel felt her beating heart and sleeping breath come to him as it did the morning he awoke with her still dressed but emotionally naked in his arms. A glow that had not graced Christoffel since he fell from the light's embrace emboldened him as he remembered the glorious feeling of her forehead on his quiet lips. Christoffel gripped his daggers with a new wind in his steps and came at Highraven with a roar. He easily blocked her seemingly feeble blows and in one powerful motion, cut her left hand clean off. He thrust both daggers into her chest with such force that it not only penetrated Highraven's toughened armor but her breastplate as well. Christoffel did not bother to pull the weapons out as he swiftly kicked her to the floor, placing one boot on her throat as black blood gurgled in her mouth.

"I buried you once. I'll bury you again." He softly growled with power and terrifying certainty in his voice. Highraven laughed and tried to speak but Christoffel's boot impeded her efforts. But before Christoffel could move to reclaim his daggers the shifting roots moved in the darkness. They came from the floor around the pair, causing him to instinctively stumble back. The strange creatures seemed to have no interest in the breathing rogue as they consumed the struggling dark ranger. She fought against them as the constricted around her like hungry snakes. Before they smothered her beneath their girth, Highraven managed to shout obscenities and curses at her former comrade.

"Death will not stop me do you here? I'll come back; I'll come back until you're in the ground, DO YOU HEAR!" She hissed as loudly as her injuries would allow. The roots in the ground began to pass Highraven to their fellows, until she was taken away from the scene, allowing a shaken Christoffel to finally take the portal to the upper trunk, without his weapons.

Highraven continued to struggle against her bonds, unable to see where the roots were transporting her. She could hear the crashing of waves and, if she were still alive, would have smelled the briny sea water. As one of the roots dug into the flesh of her arm, a voice came to her grey ears.

"You are done now. Rest." It gently spoke. Highraven saw the roots that bound her begin to glow a brilliant gold. At first she felt nothing but then, with a strange pull, lungs long filled with rotting blood began to rise and fall. A corroded heart began to beat. Grey skin became a healthy peach with long lost blonde locks draping over it like rays of pure sunlight. The sensation of thousands of tiny needles with threads attacked, stitching her body, caused her to scream. The hand she had lost only moments before was restored, as thousands of speeding lines seemed to pass through her.

When the sensation stopped, the living Highraven felt small, natural tears stream down her face. She shook her head as the roots began to lower her to the churning sea. For the first time since her unholy resurrection, she felt the sensation of cold on her back, wetness slowly taking her form, and fear sinking into her fast-beating heart. As the roots held her beneath the waves, she kicked and squirmed, wanting to scream, if not for the loss of breath that would come. When they reached the blackest depths, the roots tightened, forcing final bubbles to burst from her beautiful Elvin lips. The pressure crushed her bones as fresh red blood mingled with the blue deep in a violet plume. When the only movement came from the sea's chaotic current…the roots returned alone.