Straydog Saga
Flea 32: The Land of the Ice and Snow
"Why did you…drag me out of …bed for this?" Seth wheezed as he limped along one of cleaner, less damaged hallways within in upper bough. Reconstruction had already begun thanks to the dragons' efforts coupled with the indomitable will of the mortals who aided them. Romulus snorted for a moment before replying.
"Do not blame me for this. Your presence was requested by the council, specifically the obsidian representative. Apparently your kind cannot accept the word of dragons unless they're dressed in black," Romulus calmly cast a verbal stab. Seth cast him a cool smile, eyes squinting with relish.
"At least one…among those fools has…good taste. It will be good…to see young Nalice again. She always has…such 'kind' words for you, 'dragon prince.'" Seth weakly chuckled with a cough. The sight of the red dragon cringing and the sound of muffled, draconic curses coming from the son of Tyranastrasz and Alexstrasza were like sweet honey to the black dragon's senses.
"Whatever. Let's just get this over with, shall we?" Romulus growled.
"For once…we are in agreement," Seth coughed. As they entered what was left of the Pinnacle Bough's main chamber, several small forms dwelled within the broken but still standing structure that were not of mortal origin. The dragons waited in the meeting space, tended to by Romulus' staff as the pair approached. Romulus gave courteous nods and generic greetings to them all, stopping to bow low to one of the few beings he would ever humble himself before.
"Lady Zenza, I am pleased you came. I take it mother is otherwise engaged?" Romulus bowed to his teacher, in fact the teacher-mother of the red flight known as Zenzastrasza, as she smiled and returned the gesture.
"She is, but she sends her regards and has sent me in her stead. I will keep her well informed," Zenza replied.
"I see some changes, possibly other substitutes in the council; should we conduct a brief introduction, then? I am Romilstraz, head of operations." Romulus subtly nudged Seth, who seemed to be staring in awe of another who stood among them. Romulus cast him a questioning look as small beads of sweat formed on the elf's indigo forehead. Zenza introduced herself next as the other dragons each gave their introductions, noting their status and place in the White Branch Initiative.
Chrozdormu, also known to his mortal friends as "Chromie" the female gnome, represented the bronze dragonflight along with his young assistant, a shy and demure-looking, high elf-disguised female named Bryiedormi. Bryie, as she was encouraged to call herself by her elder brother, gave a blush and a bow in respect for those higher than her station.
From the green dragonflight was the high elf-disguised Wyrmrest Ambassador known to his colleagues as Itharius. The leader of the azure part of the initiative, the high elf-bodied Tyrygosa, gave a short introduction and looked to the dark human beside her. The calm, almost serene dragon in human form cleared his throat.
"I am Sabellion, elder of the new black flight. Ambassador Nalice had other, more important matters at the temple to attend to, and I shall be her replacement moving forward," the slayer of gron, former general of Deathwing, and younger brother to Setharion spoke, casting a dark look to the sweating dragon. Sabellion closed his eyes and gave a respectful nod to Orifiel's mate, and made no ill gestures.
"S-Setharion. Head assistant to Lady Whitedeer." The title seemed to cause Sabellion to softly smile with amusement in his deep brown eyes. Guilt, shame, and the rare emotion of fear flowed through Setharion as the human-dressed dragon looked to him with a strangely warm, though still highly guarded expression.
"Lady Whitedeer regrets she could not attend this meeting, but will conduct her own session once her tasks have died down," Romulus informed, "but for now we can give you any information you require."
"Are the remains safe?" Zenza spoke without pretense. The other dragons seemed to wait with held breath for the answer.
"Y-Yes, they are safe. My High Mystic…is seeing to greater wards and…pr-protections around the shrine as we speak," Setharion quickly spoke between struggling breaths. Sabellion looked to his elder brother with a scrutinizing gaze. Though his will was sound and his pride boundless, the other dragons could see the braces and bandages where Orifiel's healing ability did not touch.
Though it was well within her healing abilities to mend him completely, Seth did not allow his precious mate to heal him at the cost of her own energy and health. Orifiel healed as much as she could in her weakened state, but passed out before repairing several nasty wounds on his upper body.
Chromie whispered to his younger sister, sending her scurrying to find a seat. When she returned, she placed a small, wobbly chair behind Seth and he thankfully sat. His gentle gratitude to the bronze dragon caused Sabellion's thick brow to rise.
"What about the gem? Has it been returned?" Itharius asked as he crossed his jade-gloved arms. Romulus stammered for a second before picking his thoughts and his words carefully.
"The gem has not yet been returned, but we have three of our strongest pursuing it. I have great confidence that it will be returned before the week is out," Romulus nodded. The doubting look on Zenza's face caused a rare shiver to run through the boundlessly confident dragon.
"From what I've been told, so long as the shrine is safe, we have nothing to worry about. If anything this will present a golden opportunity to find out WHERE these Twilight Dragons are coming from," Chromie spoke as the tension in the room began to rise well above his short gnome's head.
"That's true; I know the red flight has been tirelessly scouring the Twilight Highlands for decades now. Grim Batol has been stripped. If they do not lurk in the old bastions, then where are they coming from? How could they have bred such a force as to do such damage to this place?" Itharius mused.
"Hopefully the three will be able to attain this information. If the gem is lost, that would be the only good that could be gained from this gross failure in security," Tyrygosa glared at Romulus and spoke with venom leased from the lips of black dragons. The sentiment was so overt that Sabellion resisted the urge to snort in amusement.
"Moving forward, we should alert the Horde and Alliance of this threat. We can then let the mortals do most of the work for us, as they always seem to, and hopefully things will go in all our favors," Chromie suggested. The other dragons nodded in agreement.
"The mortals of the various factions will be aware of this within the next few days. Lord Stormrage, Thrall, Lady Foggybottom, and Prince Anduin will alert the factions. Lady Windrunner will alert both Dalaran and the Argent groups. Someone will find the nest eventually," Seth spoke, finally catching his breath.
"If there are no more questions we may adjourn for the day," Romulus spoke, eager eyes scanning the faces of the White Branch Dragon Council for any further inquiries. Finding none, he called the meeting and the dragons went about their business, save two.
"Lord Nightgaze may we walk, or perhaps sit, for a moment?" Sabellion asked. When he was certain the other dragons were out of eye and earshot, he cast his brother a strangely warm smile. "It has been a long time, brother."
"Y-Yes indeed it has been quite a while," Setharion winced has he stood, refusing any help offered from his younger brother, as he did his best to walk without limping in pain. The pair left the meeting space for one of the abandoned, and still damaged, patio cafés. They lifted two toppled chairs and a tiled table and sat across from one another as if awaiting a waitress with menus.
"I did not believe the rumors when I finally arrived here form Draenor. I knew father had passed, but that was inevitable, it seems. But you…I thought you perished in the Black Temple. Imagine my surprise to learn that, not only were you alive, you were a part of this…'accord'," Sabellion spoke, doing his best to hide his revulsion. He quickly shifted shook his head as he saw his brother's shoulder's physically sink. "I did not mean…"
"I am sorry I disappoint you, my brother. But I have always been disappointing to my family; do my actions frankly surprise you?" Setharion bitterly asked. The reserved Sabellion fought the urge to reach a hand to his brother in earnest apology, keeping his posture and arms folded in his lap. But his expressive eyes spoke a thousand apologies louder than his lips were capable.
"I meant no such sentiment, my brother. It's…it's very good to see you alive."
"This pain will pass. Was Nalice truly too busy to come today or did you request her position to berate me?"
"Neither. I came to see my brother, whom I thought was dead." Sabellion's voice cracked, but the wall that barred his carefully controlled emotions held. He had no choice but to look away, unless his eyes would betray his rigid mask. Setharion could see through the flimsy walls as if they were made of wind. He felt the anxiety in his chest begin to dissipate as fear's tight grip on his heart began to relinquish. There was a silence between them until Setharian let out a small sigh.
"Sentiment has never come easy to you, has it? Sure, ask Sabellion to demolish civilizations and level planets and he doesn't bat an eye; but when it comes to dealing with family, he's back to his whelping stage," Setharion joked.
"And composing yourself as a proper dragon of the black flight has never been within your ability either, my dear dirt-loving, female-fondling brother." Sabellion threw out the sharp statement with a stone-cold and serious expression. Within seconds, the pair were both sharing a deep, earthy laugh.
"Ah well, not anymore. I'm mated now," Setharion spoke as the laughter subsided.
"Mated? You? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Sabellion asked with a disbelieving laugh.
Sabellion's thoughts drifted to a time seldom remembered in their current moment. Images of their youthful forms began to form like a masterfully rendered painting. Sabellion could not find an image of Setharion in his mind that was without one or more lovely females in his brother's company.
Setharion, elder prince of the black flight, went through lesser ranked females like mortal children went through wrapped candies, according to Sabellion's recollection. Even after Deathwing's madness and Setharion's sinking status in the black flight, the females still thought of the strong, handsome Setharion, especially when in season. His brood was sizable until the black flight moved to Draenor, and was annihilated by the gron and other fearsome, dragon-eating creatures. Sabellion banished the stream of images as they turned to darker times that he himself kept at a constant distance.
"It is true. Perhaps it is my age, who knows? But I am properly mated I assure you."
"To whom? She's not a red is she?"
"TITANS, no," Setharion resisted the urge to wretch at the thought, "We have at least been able to confirm that. As annoying as that little prat Romilstraz is, he was useful in that regard. Do you remember the pale one?"
"…truly brother?" Sabellion bit back the shock and sickness in his stomach. "I am sorry, I meant no insult. B-But a pale one? You could have had any in our flight…"
"True, and I did, many, many times. I'm sure if I tried now, I could continue if I choose, but that is simply not who I wish to be anymore. My mate has helped me move on from that life and, as hard as it may be to believe, I feel I am a better being for it," Setharion assured, doing his best not to laugh at Sabellion's incredulous expression.
Albino dragons or "pale ones" as they were often called by the dragon flights, were considered mistakes of nature and often discarded by their brood mothers. Setharion knew this to be true of all flights, without exception and the very thought of the poor, wretched dragons used to turn his own stomach.
At best, they were found by mortals and taken in as pets. When they became too big to handle, many young children were told that their beloved pets had to go live in a large dragon farm in the highlands, and were never seen again save for great feasts at the family dinner table.
At worst, the young whelps were used as training dummies, beaten and abused until killed and devoured by their brood mates. Setharion had few memories from his whelp-hood, but the rare taste of pale dragon blood was not among them.
"If that is how you feel about the matter, then I am happy for you." Sabellion shook his head as if coated in a sudden chill.
"What about you, brother? I know the loss was especially hard on you, but have you found any females? Sired any more whelps to build the flight?"
"…I have not. Although being a long survivor and gron slayer does seem to catch a few of the younger females' attention. Perhaps someday," Sabellion shrugged, "I-I assume you and the pale one have tried?"
"Many failed broods, yes. Her questionable origin has made nesting nearly impossible but, we have hatched one whelp and rescued another from the usual fate of pale ones. Now that we know the proper nesting conditions for our broods, we would continue, if not for this blasted accord and task those fools beset upon us," Setharion hissed, deeply cursing the others in quiet draconic.
"Why do you bother participating in fools' folly? Did they threaten you?" Sabellion asked, tone going dead serious. Setharion firmly shook his head.
"No, nothing like that," Setharion sighed and leaned forward to speak a bit more softly, "Orifiel's condition pains her. I can see it even if she does not complain; it would pain any dragon. She desperately wishes to know her origin and, as futile as it would be, to rejoin her forsaking flight. The Wyrmrest Accord has interest in studying the tree and, when they proposed their task, vowed to affirm her origin suspicions, and welcome her to whatever flight she is from, if she succeeded in completing the task."
"And if they renege?" Sabellion asked with a raised brow. Setharion's expression grew dark, his eyes glowing with fear-inducing malice.
"If they put us through all of this for nothing, I will war on them with all my might," Setharion hissed and brought his clinched fist down on the table, tilting it sideways and causing fresh tears of pain to rush from his tightly shut eyes.
"And I would not be far behind. I have seen what they have done to the young generation; they're putting thoughts in the young ones' heads, making them ashamed of their black heritage. The blame and guilt they bear is too much, especially when it is not their fault. The actions and sins of elders should not be visited upon our young, and those loathsome wyrms know that," Sabellion shook his head, "But that discussion is for another time. I do not plan on leaving your side for quite a while, especially not while the filthy broods infest your home," Sabellion vowed, leaving little time for protest. Setharion gratefully accepted his younger brother's support.
"It is much appreciated, my brother," Setharion smiled.
Terronian felt a slight chill on his muzzle. Despite his great advantage in speed and agility, he had never flown so far in one sitting. He was better versed in running on two legs than flying with two wings. Though he had his mother's ability to burst forward, leaving golden rings of sound and fluxing time in his wake, the action caused his breaths to labor and his tongue to loll in the frigid air. But thoughts of his noble father fighting off the violet swarm rallied Terronian, causing his wings to beat beyond their normal stamina.
Lumigosa struggled to keep up-though she had been flying all her 100 years of life- in the wake of the strange golden sound waves. The soothing sound of the sea could not be heard in the high altitude, and offered no comfort to the panting dragon. All the while, Katastraza, whose strong elder wings carried her swiftly to allow her to catch up, followed with patient and steady wings. Her keen eyes kept the young blue dragon well in sight. Shandori could do little else but shiver as her breath began to show in pale white puffs.
Balumbra had a considerable lead on the trio of natural-born dragons, and his enhanced stamina made him nearly impossible to pursue for long. But the three dragons and their mortal assistant flew on, well passed the northern tip of Kalimdor. The sun was beginning to make its decent as frozen shores met their vision.
"Don't tell me…" Shandori sneezed. She looked to Limugosa's back, which was starting to accumulate a thin coat of frost.
"I can see the Wyrmrest Temple from here…we're approaching Northrend!" Lumigosa marveled.
"What? That's at least a two-day boat ride, how did we get here so fast?"
"Um, hello? You ride upon a marvelous and magical dragon. Surely I can carry you much faster than a wooden boat," Lumi snorted.
"Ok, ok, you have a point. Get a move on though, we're loosing them!" Shandori grunted as Lumi strangely obeyed. As the trail of dragons moved over the frozen wasteland, a golden stripe finally managed to catch up to the violet dragon.
Balumbra, realizing that Terronian was finally upon him, shifted the massive gem in his talons, and moved to swing his great clubbed tail in defense. The strike missed as Terronian sent a weak, but targeted burst of golden fire towards the violet dragon. The golden ball burned Balumbra but was not enough to knock him out of the sky. The sight of the Wyrmrest Temple caused Balumbra's eyes to go wide as he veered westward and desperately tried to shake his pursuer.
"You shall not escape me, abomination!"
"Pot calling the kettle black, aren't we mongrel?" Balumbra shot back as he opened his mouth wide to deliver a terrible arcane fireball. Terronian, tired and weak from the journey, could not avoid the blow as it nearly tore his right wing off. He struggled to stay aloft but found himself falling to the ground. Lumigosa roared as she finally caught up as well, sending an arcane and ice blast towards her enemy. The strike managed to freeze a section of Balumbra's tail. Another strike later and Balumbra nearly dropped the gem in his lacerated grip, but managed to hold on.
"Surrender the gem and I may spare you!" Lumi proudly proclaimed, breathing a haughty bolt of ice straight to Baulumbra's side. But the pain and the irritating strikes only served to fuel Balumbra's resolve. He shot bolt after bolt of arcane fire, nearly burning Shandori and hitting Lumigosa in the face. While the blue and the violet did battle, Kat found herself on the ground where the son of Setharion lay in a pool of his own blood.
"You will not die here, not on my watch," She softly spoke as healing energy flowed from her talons and into his terrible wounds.
"Th-The gem! Leave me, get the gem!" Terrionian spoke with blood dripping from his maw.
"Nonsense. The blue is keeping him busy. I will aid her when you are stable. Your father would roast me if I did not bring you back breathing," Kat assured, as all her concentration and focus rested on his injuries. They were too far from the Wyrmrest Temple for her calls to carry to any ally who could hear. It seemed it was up to Lumigosa to stop the violet dragon from reaching his secretive destination.
"Get me close!" Shandori shouted over the roar of magical strikes. Lumigosa was too busy shooting icy bolts to answer or argue. She flew in close to the violet dragon that sneered and moved to viciously bite the nape of her neck. But as the strike came, Shandori moved her arm, risking loss of grip, to send the pointed edge of her shield into one of Balumbra's glowing eyes with all her strength. Blood gushed from the ruined organ as Balumbra let out an agony-filled shriek.
"Take that you bastard- AAH!" Shandori felt her heart skip a beat as she nearly lost her balance, but Lumigosa quickly shifted so that Shandori fell back onto her. Shandori returned her grip in time to see the gem fall like a shining bullet to the ground as the violet dragon clutched its face and struggled to stay in the air. Lumi made sure her cargo had a firm grip before shooting to the ground after it. With a triumphant roar, Lumigosa felt the cool chime of stone in her talons.
"I have it!" Lumi cheered as she moved to return to the sky; but as soon as she made the motion, stars started shining in her vision. "Oh no…"
"Oh no? Oh no what?"
"T-Tired. We must hurry, to the temple!" Lumi breathlessly spoke. She knew what the stars in her eyes meant, as they had come many times before in her short life. Soon her her vision would be obstructed and worse, a terrible pain so horrid that her stomach would revolt was coming. She had only a brief few moments to fly the gem the rest of the distance before she would be unable to move let alone fly.
Katastraza, after the majority of Terronian's healing was done, watched with a light heart as the blue dragon flew towards the Wyrmrest Temple with something large and glittering in her talons. She heard a loud thud as a roaring dragon struck the ground, writhing in pain.
"Excuse me a moment," she spoke as she trundled towards the fallen violet dragon. With her claws on his throat and underbelly, Kat began her interrogation with an eager and snarling Terronian, healed and ready for vengeance.
"Is this thing really necessary?" Christoffel pilled at the tight collar around his neck. A fel crystal softly hummed beside two red gems within the collar, keeping the blood elf in a steady and satiated state.
"Considering your attempts on my safety and the fact that you still do not believe me, yes. Plus Lady Whitedeer insisted all prisoners be escorted with one," Hanariel dryly informed.
"What does it do?" Christoffel asked as he tried his best to loosen the strange device.
"If you try to harm me, escape, remove it, or any combination of the three it will blow your head off," Hanariel innocently smiled. Christoffel's eyes went wide as he struggled to find words strong enough to utter at the strange elf that claimed to be his living brother.
"You-You son of a bitch! Han would never have…"
"You're not the only one who is capable of change, 'Christoffel Stingblade.' Only I prefer to think I have changed for the better. Now stop your shouting: we're going to meet with my mate for a few moments before leaving," Hanariel firmly commanded. Christoffel, not testing the legitimacy of Hanariel's collar claims, obeyed.
"Wh-Where are you taking me?" Christoffel asked as his face began to grow a tint of white. Before Han could answer, a dark-skinned beauty with golden runes and a wicked smile came walking along the cell block. The High Mystic of the Root waved to the pair; the sight of the familiar but changed human made Christoffel audibly gape.
"Hey Han, sweetie, Lady Whitedeer said you'd be up here. Hello again blood elf, remember me?" Keesha smirked.
"Narlyn, you remember Lady Hazzad don't you?" Hanariel turned to see his red-faced brother choking back his rage.
"The bitch tried to kill me!" Christoffel shouted, as he realized the two red gems on his collar were blinking. His whole body froze as the sound of high-pitched beeping nearly made his heart stop.
"Now, now cupcake, I doubt you'll be able to say shit to me…without a head," Keesha darkly laughed. Hanariel sighed.
"Dearest, please do not instigate. I'd like to get him to Theramore in one piece."
"D-Dearest? Oh FUCK NO!" Christoffel growled and shook his head, denying the pair before him. "And why the hell are we going there for?" Christoffel shouted as the blinking lights reached a fever pitch. Hanariel softly smiled and looked Christoffel straight in the eye. The action seemed to calm the infuriated blood elf but the words that came next filled his aura with dread.
"We're going to pay a visit to a prisoner that does not officially exist."
"N-No I don't wanna see him," Christoffel shook his head as his knees went weak. Hanariel remained firm as the tired, drained, and demoralized blood elf's will began to crumble. "I don't want to SEE HIM."
"You do not have a say in the matter, but someday you will hopefully thank me for the opportunity to make peace before what has to be done is done."
"I don't care what happens to that shit-head. He ruined everything. Torture the bastard for a thousand years for all I care, but leave me the FUCK out of it," Christoffel growled. Christoffel could feel nothing but white-hot rage as the glowing mystics both started shifting their expressions to pity.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Narlyn."
Night fell upon the frozen corpse of Balumbra. During Katastraza's interrogation, he had spoken very little. All he could feel was the open wound of his eye and the fatigue of his terrible pace. But his pounding heart soon gave out from the pain and stress of battle before a single word against his master could be uttered. Terronian and Katastraza could do nothing but fly in the direction Shandori and Lumigosa traveled in hopes of finding them both well in the temple, and the gem secured within.
But the violet corpse was not alone. A single figure dwelled beside it. The taint of darkness and stench of terrible power surrounded the miniscule figure as he kicked the dragon's flank with his gnome-sized foot.
"Useless," the figure spoke with a tiny voice, "You could not even die in a convenient manner."
The figure swelled into a pungent cloud of darkness in the landscape. Its energy melted the snow and imbued it with a strange violet-tinged light. Any animal that flew too close gagged on corrosive ichors and fell to the ground, dead.
The dark, poisonous being had to act fast, before the other dragons could come to investigate or reclaim the corpse. The large, cloudy figure sank its teeth deep into the dragon's frozen flesh and began to drink. The physical form broke down like frothy ale as the creature imbibed.
The dark master of the Twilight flight did not stop its sinister devouring until there was nothing but a small ditch where the body once lay. He shrank back into his gnomish disguise and fled back towards his lair's entrance, undetected and unknown to the creatures above.