Chapter 10:
I didn't abandon myself to my grief - at least that was what I believed in.
Then again harnessing these new powers would force me to drive my attention back to these... recent developments sooner or later... But nevertheless I still was able to focus on other things again surprisingly fast. It all had turned out in a way unfathomable for the rest of the peasants calling themselves members of the guild or high-ranked warlocks... and I had to do now, all that I longed for was to show Kaal the spell and demand his part of the bargain. I was more than simply anxious to find out what he wanted to show me.
Concerning the elven woman... I've tried my best to evade her ever since that one evening. I knew that if I only caught a sudden glimpse of her I probably wouldn't be able to restrain myself and at least try to kill her, even though I ultimately never thought of me as capable of doing so. It was strange kind of desperation that made me want to forget about all this as quickly as possible.
I might not have given in to the pain lurking about at every turn I might take, but I had opened up for something worse, something stronger - hatred. But yet again it wasn't all that bad... emotions are good source to feed from when breeding darkness. And of course the stronger you feel – the better the outcome.
In the early afternoon of the following day I met up with Kaal inside the Temple of the Damned. He was happy to see me, just as usual, but this time things were a bit different. I was the one who wanted to know something from him. He still wasn't fully aware the reason of my coming and wondered if I wanted maybe another assignment. Sadly enough his thoughts weren't that far off... The time with Calystea had made me to what I had wanted to avoid the most for the longest time - becoming bound to the warlock guild, a puppet to their will. But not so this time...
First of all, I let him know that I had fulfilled the criteria of Kaal's little offer towards me. Straight forward as I was I asked him whether there was an old training-dummy close by somewhere around, for I did not want to cause severe damage to the city. Perhaps I was a bit too precautious but I still couldn't understand the full destructive potential of the spell I had created merely on accident. Kaal on the other hand looked at me from his small eyes, probably evaluating the situation unfolding under his sight. He didn't too surprised and maybe he was just about equally interested in finding out what his little gamble to offer for us all. Of course any spell I would come up with might be of use for all warlocks inside the city's walls... Without another word he then took me over to the war quarters were the normal test dummies were situated.
Facing a row of three wooden shield bearers, I turned to Kaal again and told him that I did not want to destroy all of them at once and how I would rather prefer a single target that we maybe even could take with us to a large open space. Preferably outside the range of the priests and warriors residing there, but he only turned down my remarks and assured it would be okay even if I would damage all of them, no matter to what degree. With no way of convincing him instead of showing off what I had created I merely shrugged at him, I believe had warned him thoroughly enough.
Those fools, the whole time they were telling me how great I was and yet still they kept insisting on underestimating me. What a daft mistake to make...
At the time I unfortunately wasn't able to create the sort of fire I needed at will and I still had to fuel my rage for at least some time. Abandoning myself to the hatred again I informed the orc how I would need a moment to focus. He only answered that this would fine and that his own curiosity to see what I what I had in store for him would easily outweigh the waiting time.
Everything set up I began concentrating on the last few days. Slowly the anger inside my mind grew stronger, it turned into overwhelming hatred for the elf, but then even stronger hatred for myself rose up in me.
My hands engulfed in bright green flames as Kaal was looking at me as if this was a stupid trick to fool him into believing the impossible.
It took my everything to concentrate on forming a shadow bolt in this state of mine, not to mention merging it with the flames afterwards. And what seemed to take an eternity for me, in reality only took up a few seconds.
A jet of green flames then flew towards one of the test dummies at high velocity. The impact of the spell itself was rather weak, but the fiendish fire spread all over all my poor mindless test subjects, burning them to the ground, leaving not even ashes.
Whilst the fire was still eating away on the stone foundation of the city I turned back to Kaal awaiting a response from him, but he was still only staring at the bright green fire burning its way right through the wood and stone before I put it out with a single thought.
It took a moment until he had refocused again. At first I had the impression he did not really understand what he had been allowed to witness but then he grabbed me by the shoulders asking where I had learned to control demonic fire on my own. I told him nothing about the last few weeks, that part would remain to be my secret and my secret alone.
As I shook off the orc's grasp I suggested we made our way back to the mage quarter. It was around that time when I first wondered on which day exactly Kaal had started questioning the monster he had helped create.
As soon as we reached the temple again he bid me inside immediately. He said something about a drink and the opportunity so we could talk a bit more calmly and shielded from unwanted attention. Hearing this made me hope we would retreat to either his or perhaps my personal quarters, but no – actually quite the opposite applied.
We sat down at one of the largest tables in the general room and Kaal began babbling about the promise he had made to me. Not holding at bay any much longer he directly asked me whether I knew what a dreadsteed was. Of course at that time I had no idea of these majestic creatures. I simply hadn't been amongst the wicked madness of the warlocks long enough yet. And so Kaal opened up another secret kept by the nether. He first told be about Xoroth, the realm of the dreadsteeds, the mounts of the dreadlords or Nathrezim as they are also called a treacherous kind of fiends not seldom to roam the realms of the living and not too reluctant to make a bargain with a mortal. But that was not what this would be truly about...
There were not too many warlocks that had achieved to steal a demonic mount like these from the dreadlords over the course of their lives. It usually took far too long to gather and assemble all the small pieces required to solve this puzzle and not few of those who succeed at old age, died at hands of a Nathrezim. Yet knowing my prowess and ability he was quick to assure me that this creature – a dreadsteed would make a fine mount for me. Though something he kept quiet about, or maybe even did not know to begin with, were the added benefits of such a steed - It was of all races of course yet another demon obeying my every command and thus it would also have a certain effect on my ability to use and manipulate the shadows.
But it didn't stop at that. My orc mentor proved a little more resourceful... though I guess he was more of a signpost for me than an actual teacher. Anyhow..., furthermore Kaal continued to give me three things. A name - Mor'zul Bloodbringer, despite the sound of it a human; a place - one of the last few undamaged Altars of Storms located west of Blackrock Mountain, and a little bag full of goods. He insisted on me not opening the bag whatever might happen to me or it, but if I was able to keep it shut it would be of the utmost importance. I just would have to hand it over to Bloodbringer when I met him. Nothing more - Nothing less.
Little did I know at that moment that again a lot of travelling was about to be set into motion just by having this little chat with him. Naturally it was my rotten luck that the furthest the bats of Undercity went would be an outpost of the horde somewhere in the badlands south of Dun Morogh, home to the Ironforge dwarves with their reigning clan of the Bronzebeards. The mapmakers of Undercity, most of them valuing me as a customer by then told me probably the safest route from there on out. And still with this guidance I would have to pass through Blackrock Mountain on my way, a highly dangerous area with the home of the black dragon flight on its top as they put it. I on the other hand wasn't worried too much. The power bending at my command was far too great of a threat for any lizard to ever be on equal footing with me! Thus I embarked on my next quest...
After landing in Kargath a good couple of hours later, which was the name of the outpost, I summoned my felhunter and headed off to the west just as I had been told.
I left the badlands behind me through an old mountain pass and headed onwards through the Searing Gorge as it was called. And this name is about as accurate as one would ever get... The Dark Iron dwarves did their best to change the landscape according to their ideas of a 'home'.
As I had finally reached Blackrock, I stood in front of a large door. This definitely was dwarven architecture. How came everything they built was big enough to fit smaller giants despite their own size? It made me wonder even more if they did this so they would seem even smaller than before or if it was simply to make up for something they lacked.
The entire hallway opening up in front of me was made from only the finest black steel, but the real surprise awaited me after it took another two turns and then opened up into a large cavern.
I was speechless the first time I entered Blackrock Mountain. It almost seemed as if the whole thing had been hollowed out from the inside. A large circular way lead around it's center whilst large stone faces with beards of flowing lava were staring at me, keeping an eye out for the intruder that I clearly was. Driven by curiosity I stepped to the edge of the walkway and looked down right into a large pool of molten lava – a deathtrap waiting to spring. And in its middle – defying everything I had seen in my entire life - there was a large rock spire adorned by something that looked like an entrance directly in its middle. The only thing supporting it in this position were four gigantic statues of dwarves scattered throughout this huge cavern, each of them holding on to a chain crafted of solid dark iron in their firm everlasting grip. As I looked up above me I saw a rather young dragon of the black flight flying in wide circles through the cave.
With all these distractions it took me far too long to pass through the mountain. Everything inside of it was like a world of its own - untouched by the outside - free to roam the depths of old hallways, only urging oneself never to delve too deep.
After managing to reach the other side, I made the last few steps backwards having a last glance at the statues and the spire in the middle of this huge cavern. All in all... an image I would never forget.
The ashen planes outside to the south of Blackrock were not even half as appealing as the inside of the mountain. Everything out there was burned down, covered in ash and lone embers, small puddles of lava flowing down from steep slopes showing that the volcano that Black Rock once was still had not fully ceased to exist.
But all of it was only a minor distraction for me... for I had far greater things to achieve! As I descended down the slope, following a huge bridge crossing one of the many streams of lava, I was already able to spot the way I would be following towards my actual goal. And as soon as I had reached the end of it, I began following the road leading west from where I was without hesitation. It should bring me directly to the Altar of Storms built there during the second great war. Without doubt one of the many cursed places amongst us but I had only one path to follow, one way to go. And that way was my own future.
I never got too close to the altar though as I simply did not have to. Besides, I got a good view of it from afar anyhow, the way it was built and consisted of three large hooded figures, each of them holding a sword in front of their chest pointing downwards. Even for me there was something frightening about those... though I never found out why my instincts told me to fear them rather than to oppose. But I guess it won't matter now, does it?
The whole structure was built right in the center of a larger pool of lava. Yet the way I travelled on that day lead me somewhere else - up a small hill to be most precise. I was basically directly next to the altar, standing inside a small camp with the warlock who I was searching for and another of the green skinned goblin brats.
To my own surprise Bloodbringer already had a rather good idea what I would want from him after I introduced myself also letting the names Kaal and Undercity drop in the process. Without any hesitation whatsoever he offered me his aid in this matter, but he also didn't hold back telling me that usually many warlocks come here, but only a few returned alive, in short: the same things the orc had already opened up to me. He said that in the course of the recent last year many, many foolish ones had tried to obtain a dreadsteed, but only two people succeeded. Yet one of them died shortly afterwards due to fatal injuries dealt by the Nathrezim pursuing him into our realm.
What he didn't know was that he couldn't scare me with talk like that. I already was certain that this would all be not too difficult for me, merely another trifle on the way.
Without a further word I then stretched out my right arm holding the bag Kaal had given to me earlier. It was actually quite heavy holding it like that. Mor'zul only pointed at the goblin standing slightly off next to us. The little bugger then introduced himself as Gorzeeki Wildeyes, also a warlock of his own. He was the one who took the bag off me and took a first look inside it.
"Oh, I see... a prepared one... very nice indeed." Taking his sweet time he spread out everything from the bag on a table. "A solid bar of Arcanite - handy, three large brilliant shards – shiny, a bundle of roughly 30 black dragon scales – oh there's a big one and six Ghost Mushrooms as they are commonly known... What a pleasant surprise." The goblin looked around the chests and boxes that were all piled up around the encampment apparently searching for something. "Well then bold undead, only one thing is missing... Xorothian Stardust. We shall need it for the parchment to write the summoning on. Indeed a rare thing to acquire... very rare, very rare. Did I hear impossible? Nah... Yet still hard enough... But I just happen to know who in Azeroth might have some of it."
With a sleazy grin on his face the goblin then told me again about the dreadlords. There were supposedly only few left in this world, most of them had returned home to their own realm as our kingdoms deteriorated having done just the amount of damage they regarded as sufficient. Yet there are always those few that were persistent and wanted to see this world burn even further. Lord Banehollow, as he called himself for instance. He would be the 'person' needed.
But I only groaned in agony as soon as I heard where this demon was living - Jaedenar.
The goblin observing my reaction than gave me an elixir that would apparently fool the cultists of the Jaedenar into believing that I was one of them, but even then I should still remain careful for the dreadlord would surely see through the disguise. I never understood how it worked, but as long as it did its job I would not need to care about it. And in the worst case: I was sure my magic would still prove to be all I'd ever need.
Above that the goblin also filled me in on what I would have to do furthermore. He handed me a jar, nothing fancy – just simple pottery. At first I didn't understand the meaning of it as the goblin told me I would have to keep it closed under all circumstances and only open it once near the alchemical lab of Ras Frostwhisper, a lich dwelling deep inside the necromancers' school of Scholomance on the isle of Caer Darrow in the western plaguelands. How should I even know? But hearing the faint nagging coming from inside the little container gave it away after a while. The goblin casually added I should return with the imp in the jar afterwards and I needn't worry about the spell. The little demon would store the parchment it would create from the stardust next to him inside the jar.
This was the time when I started to really hate travelling thanks so things like those. You just have to love being sent around... don't you?
My journey back to Felwood took about two days using the fastest means of travel I could fall back to. Upon my arrival in the Emerald Sanctuary, the nightelves all seemed actually pretty glad to see me again. They really thought that I had come back just to help them on their quest to purify the land. I could not help but to pity the fools...
Again I did not pay too much attention to them and instead just headed out onto the road making my way towards the north, just as last time.
It took some time until I finally had reached the ruins of Jaedenar... again. On the way I was thinking about how tackle it this time, though my own thoughts would throw me off soon enough. What was I worrying about?
I might not trust the goblin warlock, but surely my own strength! And should this strange elixir actually work how it was supposed to I would even be able to avoid all the cultists just by drinking this one bottle of liquid. Anyhow it was worth a shot at it. Even better..., my felhunter by my side examined the bottle containing the green fluid that I would have to drink for me as I pulled it out of a bag fastened to my belt. He quickly stated that he did not know what it was made of, but that it would definitely not cause a magical illness or well, any kind of harm. That being said I downed the bottle directly after entering the grounds of the Shadow Council.
Stumbling about I fell to my knees as soon as the last drop of fluid had run down my throat and into my leaking stomach - oh my god, that tasted horrible. I had trouble to keep it in, even my rotten intestines wanted to throw it out as soon as possible. It tasted somewhat on the likes of rotten fish and elderberries, at least those are the things my mouth would assign to it... But on the upper hand side of things it seemed to work already. One of the cultists came running towards me asking if everything was alright. He even went so far to call me brother and I was rather sure that I had zero orcs amongst my relatives.
The Shadow Council had definitely grown again since my last visit. All the cultists I had killed had been replaced, hopefully with sufficient apprentices and even worse.., a lot more people were swarming the grounds and the underground structure called shadow hold.
What hadn't changed was the fact how easy it was to get lost inside the caves and caverns of the shadow hold. I guess I got lost track of my way at least a couple of times because I was too much in a hurry that day. I still somehow envisioned me changing continents and travelling into the western plaguelands that fast.
As I continued my way down into the depths of the earth I had already went far past all the rooms I had seen the last time I had been in there. Though it all looked so alike that I only noticed the completely new territories I ventured upon once I came through a larger room with a stone table adorning its middle, the corpse of a man lying on it, slowly rotting away. Sacrificial or just for fun, no matter - it was a messy place...
The hallway behind it was continuing to lead further downwards and soon opened up into an even larger cave. An old orcish warlock, not too distant from Kaal in his apparel was standing in the center of the room with two succubi by his side. At least that one guy seemed to be more than just your average warlock. He looked at me and grunted dismissive the moment I tried to pass through. For a second I was in fear he could have maybe seen through my disguise and I prepared myself for an all-out attack on him without hesitation if he would try to do something conspicuous, but instead he only pointed towards the way behind him, telling me in a dark and raspy voice that his master was up there waiting for me.
As I had been the one to underestimate them I was surprised for a good moment. Many questions arose inside of me, most fuelled by my own foolishness. What the...? Waiting for me? Why? But if they knew I was no member of the cult why did they still refrain from attacking me?
From that point onwards I didn't let my guard down for a single second. The path at the end of the room was winding upwards into yet another cave system. And just as I had reached the upper level of this one too, I saw that I was standing on only the first of three large platforms all connected by various bridges. Followed by the strange feeling of being watched my felhunter began to snarl as we approached the final platform. And for a first time my own feelings turned into something more than simply restlessness or unease... I began to sense the demonic presence in this area. I dare not describe it, for it remains beyond the frail mind of a mage to understand but rest assured... it is just as wicked as you might imagine.
But as I had already come that far, I knew I had to keep on going. I had dealt with stronger offspring of the nether before!
The way how all the platforms around me were heavily populated by lesser demons and cultists meant nothing to me, I did not even pay any attention as the last one was almost completely deserted contrasting those before. A sole lonely orc was standing there next to an old elven pavilion doing literally nothing. He did not speak nor move on his own – he was just a mindless puppet attached to some strings.
Then as the silence around me reached its height, I heard the voice echoing inside my mind.
"I was awaiting you, Warlock. I knew that you would return sooner or later and I also know why you came back. But tell me in your own words: Why did you come back after the heavy losses you brought upon my precious cultists, do you want to throw salt into the bleeding wound? Add insult to my injuries?" I looked around not able to spot the demon anywhere close by. It made me wonder where he might be standing, from where he might be whispering to me. The voice itself almost sounded caring for his little puppets, the ill-minded puppeteer worrying about his playthings but as these thoughts grazed my mind from only afar he then suddenly shouted at me in all his anger and wrath. "You are only one of many! All of you idle fools seeking to steal a dreadsteed of Xoroth! You shall suffocate on your own greed!" Yet to my great surprise the tone shifted once again. "But... I am willing to make you an offer. A bargain I insist you should consider! You..., you are not as weak as the other warlocks of this dying world. Most of those now lie dead in the chasm behind you, together with the filth they belong to! Worthless rats and underlings trying to be something they aren't! They challenged me and were destroyed completely, to now feed a different kind of pet I keep - the living ooze at the bottom of the cave."
I held back and did not respond with a single word. Everything he said made me want to fight him too, he made it only worse for himself. And ever since I had been become able to summon the infernal into this world, my lust for blood grew stronger with every day to pass. He pushed it only further... made me want to see if he was really as strong as he claimed to be.
"I shall be willing to give you what you seek, if you will do a favor for me. As of only recently, not without doubt due to your intrusion I need to dispose of one of my most troublesome followers. The orc Ulathek is plotting something against me with his new found master and my rival, Lord Hel'nurath! Kill him! Kill him and bring me his heart! This should feed my anger and serve as an excellent treat on the side..."
I could not really be bothered with it but still I wondered what he meant by the last part of his sentence, although I had no real interest in hearing the answer. I just nodded, assuming that the demon would see my gesture and then I turned around tending to the search for this orc that he mentioned. You just have to hate orcish names, if you don't have the teeth like they do, then you'll never be able to pronounce it as it's meant to be... You'd better have those damned tusks...
I started asking my way through the caverns of Jaedenar right away and it took a while until finally stumbled upon one of the cultists who would point out where this Ulathek was on his own. His chambers were fairly near to the entrance of the shadow hold which meant for me that I had to go through the whole structure at least two more times. What a nuisance...
But sadly that wasn't all. I found the orc in his chamber, unfortunately alongside with four guards keeping a close watch, two to his left and two standing to his right. But actually... well, I didn't care too much about them... I charged up a normal shadow bolt with my right hand just as like with any other opponent. As I sent the violet jet of light towards the right pair of guards I ordered my felhunter to attack the left ones. The shadow bolt penetrated the torso of the first unlucky one with ease also taking down the second one standing behind him only seconds later.
With his protection downed so quickly Ulathek turned to face me. His eyes were clearly showing the fear of death or at least torment.
"Banehollow sent you? I - I can offer you something better than he did! Just let me live! I will make it worth your while!"
Wretched dog! He betrayed his master here in Jaedenar and by then he was willing to betray his master in the realm of Xoroth on the whim of an outsider! Such scum did not deserve to live. A basic curse on him brought him to his knees quickly. A close range shadow bolt above his neck as a follow-up ended his worthless existence within the split of a second.
Yet something I had not accounted for would soon make my life just a little bit harder: I haven't even had a knife on me to cut out the heart. Looking around in the room luckily brought up a solution. I found something at least rather similar to a knife, a sharpened stone... How primitive and below me.
The bloody organ resting in the palm of my hand I carelessly ripped off some of the cloth of the orc's robe so I had something to carry it in. It reminded me again why I hated tasks like that. By then I was covered over and over in orc blood. And if the cultists in there wouldn't rip me apart for this murder then the grunts of Orgrimmar would do so for sure.
With the rags I carried in my left hand I left a trail of blood behind me, marking my exact way back into the depths. Why do I always end up with menial tasks like this to pursue?
I didn't want to waste any further time and quickly passed through the hallways and caves of the Shadow Hold until I reached the cave with the platforms yet again. I make my way up and took the bridges over to the third of them with the orc still standing there, swaying slightly back and forth. I took the chance to have another brief look around, wondering where the demon could be hiding, for I knew it had been close by all the time.
"Excellent... I started to taste the sweet heart of a traitor on my lips from the moment you spilled his blood. Give the heart to my servant and you shall receive your part of our deal."
Although I didn't trust the demon I drew closer to the hypnotized orc and exchanged the bloody rags for a small amount of dust or sand. It was hardly enough to cover a fingertip. The moment I took another pointless step towards the orc a swarm of bats rose as high into the air as possible, fluttering out of reach to the upper parts of the room. The voice in my head now seemed suddenly more distant. "You have what you wanted, now go! Go and never come back! I assure you it's enough, I gave you twice as much as any other! BEGONE foul thing!"
I looked up to the swarm of bats as the voice still echoed through my mind, one of them clearly larger than the rest. It gazed down at me from gleaming red eyes.
"So there you are... Still avoiding me?" I asked straight out. "Pathetic...!"
I turned around and made my way out of the structure. I've never heard of a dreadlord that would be afraid of a mere mortal warlock... This had all turned out to be so ridiculous all of a sudden.
Just for the heck of it I decided on killing a few cultists on my way out. That demon had me really fired up on killing someone or at least something... preferable him of course. Yet with that one certain possibility already out of option his underlings would have to suffice for the moment.
But it got worse: Getting back to the Undercity turned out to be even more stressful than I could have imagined... The grunts of Orgrimmar had almost taken me into custody upon picking up the smell of blood from their own kin splattered all over my robes. It took a while for me to convince them that the poor fool who had to die by my hands had been a member of the shadow council and not one of their pig farmers. It proved especially hard due to the fact that none of the grunts was able to either read or let alone say the words 'Shadow Council'.
As I was finally on the Zeppelin to Undercity after threatening my way through the city I dropped into a quiet corner, hoping I'd be able to relax for a moment and wished that none of the goblin-type minor accidents would occur. My felhunter decided to take the place to my side, carefully watching over this most un-trustworthy crew. But it turned to be like it always was... instead of relaxing my thoughts were eager to stroll off to somewhere else. And so I came to use the spare time to ask my demon a few things about the nature of these so-called dreadlords. If any of the people I knew would be able to answer this question then it had to be either a Nathrezim himself or my felhunter. The loyal pet he was, Thoonum told me that one usually could not trust them, except for in certain scarce moments, when they are in fear of their own life more than anything else and a bargain was out of the question. Above that they, not matter what, will always try to gain at least some profit of the situation. This showed itself in many ways, but most prominently in the fact that they were the only demons that usually spoke in the language of the ones opposing them, not their own.
As I continued to talk with Thoonum, I began to question the origin of this 'Stardust' the Dreadlord gave to me – for obvious reasons. Yet my felhunter was quick to clearly state how this sand really came from the realm of Xoroth. Just hearing it was a certain relief for me at the time. Otherwise I would have been forced to venture yet again into that dreadful ruin...
Any last doubt finally cast aside I focused onto the next step of the plan. And as soon as we reached the ever so bleak Tirisfal I felt to urge to head out to Caer Darrow immediately. I did not yet know what would await me inside the necromancer's den – what I did understand was the importance of the place. Anyways... this was all taking far too long already and it turned night yet again. I told myself that this compelling feeling was simply my own desire to get this over with as fast as possible. Besides... it was obvious how this demonic steed would be a fair mount for me and ease the whole travelling up a lot – a thing I began hating with every bone left in my body.
The road towards the east seemed to be stretching out far longer than I had remembered. But to be fair, quite some time had passed since I went through or even only into the plaguelands for the last time. I had rejected every assignment that would have led me there and avoided everything that had something to do with these areas. And even still somehow everything of that lingered on. It meant nothing much anymore, felt meaningless to an extent, but it had still been there with me.
A small outpost of the Argent Dawn now flanked the borderlines from Tirisfal to the western plaguelands as I found out while passing by. I decided to follow the road as long as possible, until I would eventually be directly north of Caer Darrow. One of the farmers who had lived there surely must have possessed a boat to get to the peninsula. The country itself wasn't too dangerous for me anymore though I still would try anything so I wouldn't have to go straight through Andorhal. There were too many undead inside the ruins of the city and all too strong or at least too pesky for comfort. I just couldn't be bothered with it at the time. Maybe I was even too much of a coward back then. Looking at it from the perspective I have now, I would say it should have been simple enough to march directly through the center of it all and not get a single scratch.
But well, my little insolent prayers had been heard and I found a boat at the farm directly to the north of the Darrowmere Lake. Not keen on losing any more time, me and my felhunter got into the old wooden thing and after setting it free from the old bonds tying it down we finally were on our way over to the peninsula. It can be seen as a rather large lake, though fortunately it didn't take too long to get to Caer Darrow, for it lay right in the middle of it. The image of the full moon reflecting on the smooth surface of the lake as we silently glided towards our goal.
Upon reaching the sudden eruption of land in midst the surprisingly vast plot of water I tied the boat to one of the many footbridges once used to land all kinds of goods for the city and made my way up to the houses. If you'd take a look from a different perspective the peninsula would prove to actually be a little hill with its top reaching out of the water. And right on its highest point, man once decided to place a stronghold which ultimately gave this town its name.
Of course by then, or rather even by now, all of this remains to be little more than a sweet and forgotten story, a tale not worth to be told whilst the remains of the apparently once lush city lay in ruins - all the houses completely or at least partly destroyed. The final truth of this prominent, yet desolate realm's demise found right in front of me: the doors to the once so proud stronghold cracked open.
I felt little pity for the weakness of the past and entered the ruins driven by my own ends.
"Oh come on...", was what I thought as I stumbled into yet another doorway, though this one heavily locked and apparently freshly crafted. It hid itself away behind a short flight of steps and a corner, keeping the way down shut for unwanted visitors. Again another nuisance I would have to deal with...
Wanting to leave this place as quickly as possible I blasted off the lock with a shadow bolt.
To my surprise there was nothing magical about this door at all, rendering a good amount of silent thoughts and fears from the back of my head pointless. It seemed the inhabitants of the Scholomance were not too scared of visitors, either due to their own foolishness or arrogance. Either of the two would do.
But... I didn't came to this place to eradicate the whole necromancers' school. After all... I only wanted to get to the alchemists lab of that strange lich in the basement. Maybe they would let me borrow a few of their ingredients if I only nicely asked my thoughts began taunting them for me. For a pleasant surprise on the other side of the door the facility seemed to be guarded in a proper way. As I turned into the hallway four skeletal warriors greeted me with their wide and lip-less smile.
I took out all four of them easily, which again left me wondering if that really would be all they had to offer as a resistance. But it did not matter too much. It would only make things easier for me, would it not? So I opened the metal gate leading down into the next room. From where I found myself by then I could oversee everything in this large room. Two stone stairs led down to the lower level which looked surprisingly like a library. The whole area was festered with ghosts, skeletons and acolytes of the Scourge and I could not hold back but wonder whether I could fool them into letting me to their lab without having to fight and kill every single one of them or not. Not that I wouldn't have thought of both possible ways to carry on as sufficiently amusing, but it, well..., would have most likely taken far too long. And I wasn't even considering what might have happened if I got carried away...
Anyways... a single acolyte was standing next to the stairs to my right. I threw a leftover bone from the skeletons down the stairs to lure him up to me. "Not again... damn skeletons, always brawling for no reason..." I heard how he mumbled as he came closer.
He wouldn't let go of it and continued his rant on his way up. I for my part, used the few spare seconds on my hands and hid behind the door's frame hoping he wouldn't see me on entering this part of the room.
He was too startled to scream as I jumped at him from behind a shadow bolt at the ready and burning its way right through his face. I actually had already gotten better at close range combat like this, the robe he was wearing wasn't damaged in the slightest way, not even a bit singed. That was proof enough of my improvement if you'd ask me. But I had more important things to worry about at that time... I hurried to get it off the dead body and pulled it straight over my own robe. The final step would be dismissing my felhunter in order to make the disguise work.
I approached one of the acolytes without hesitation, if they were so unlucky to see through the guise they would have to pay with their life. I was at least somewhat confident how everybody in this room was only a minor threat for me.
To my surprise and likewise delight the disguise worked as it was supposed to and the acolyte told me the shortest way to the lab of Frostwhisper outright. I wondered whether they could sense how strong I was or if there already was an order given around that they should not attack me in order to save their own lives rather than blindly follow some duty. Though I could hardly imagine that any of the two would be the truth at least one had to be right.
As I made my way through the Scholomance no one even bothered questioning my origin or what I wanted in the lab, they even went so far to unlock the door to it for me. It was quick and easy... too easy.
The room I was led to containing the lab was surprisingly spacious for a former crypt coming together with a high ceiling. I entered through the large doorway as it opened magically the moment I stood right in front of it and closed again behind me. The room was divided in two parts. In the first part everything was lit by a gloomy green light. This area was heavily populated by all kinds of alchemical instruments and fluids of various colors. This was obviously the place where I was supposed to let out the imp and get it to do its part. After having a short look around, I set the jar down on to the ground and opened it. Quickly a long crocked nose appeared out of the bottle neck, followed by the thin face of the imp and its long elven-like ears. The demon happily jumped out of his prison. One thing I noticed was its size - it was particularly smaller than the normal imps I knew, although I guess it was about equally lively.
The imp then started its work squealing about his damned life inside a jar being rented to strangers with a certain affinity to death for low money by a goblin.
Meanwhile I continued looking around the room. Something about the far back of it seemed rather interesting. A large stone altar was in the middle of that part with candles scattered out all over it. Curiosity as strong as always inside me, I wanted to get closer and have a better look at it, though I also began noticing something else rather soon... It felt as if it was getting colder with every step I took towards this altar. The imp behind me began squealing angrily ... that I should be careful and not go any further. But he gave up on it already after maybe one or two warnings. I should suit myself the little creature said, probably hoping that my death would grant his wretched existence the freedom it so longed for.
What nonsense, I thought. This school, as it was called, it had nothing to offer for me – neither anything to learn, nor to fear.
Two columns, one on each side, pointed out where the symbolical border was that divided the room in two. I took an eager step passed the columns and was greeted by an ice cold air current. But where the hell did the wind even be coming from?
I heard a snigger and swiftly spun around, trying to find whom or what it came from. "Who is there?" I called out with a faint trail of sudden despair. No response followed upon my hollow words, only the laughter grew ever so slightly louder. "Show yourself! Who are you?" I demanded as shouted blindly at the gloomy darkness.
A sudden voice arose from nowhere...
"I am the owner of this very tomb you are standing in front of. I am the master over ice and shadows alike and I am the owner of this school. I am the protector of the pathetic acolytes in the rooms above us... I AM THE IMMORTAL, the lich Ras Frostwhisper!" The voice was hollow, far from anything I had ever heard before. And the moments the words were spoken a faint blue light drove away the shadows from behind the tomb as the creature known to me as Ras Frostwhisper slowly came gliding towards me. It was the first time for me to ever see a lich with my own eyes...
The creature was clearly formed from the bones of a human body, yet it had no legs or feet at all. It simply had no use for them anymore as it was hovering in mid-air. The upper body seemed almost completely normal, yet the head was surrounded by some sort of crown made of the spare bones. It's... or rather his eyes were shining in a piercing, icy blue. The whole creature looked rather fragile, yet it also seemed to be surrounded by some sort of magic barrier. I couldn't really tell at that time, but I felt it... I just knew I wouldn't be able to lay even only a scratch on him.
This entity stopped several feet in front of me whilst the air around me continued freezing, this ... cold. It was piercing enough for even me to feel it.
"My acolytes are not yet ready to die in bloody combat, for that I ordered them to stand down and let you pass through without any hostility or opposition. They still need to ripen just a little bit longer..." The lich explained calmly. He seemed to be more a man of words instead of action at this hour. "I know that you have what you came for and in my generosity I shall allow you to leave this place once. Though should you be so foolish and ever decide to return, to come here a second time – you will either join the cult at once or have your wish for immediate death granted. And in either case I will appoint myself to that personally." Frostwhisper made a short pause. "Also... if you deny my offer and insult my hospitalities by attacking even only a single one of my acolytes on your way out, no matter how worthless he might be, I will freeze you in your tracks wherever you stand and shatter your frozen body without hesitation. This is my realm and you should be aware of my might within these walls!" After hearing his words everything around me grew even colder than before. The whole world seemed to be freezing over. "Now... should you wish to fight me immediately... do so. I know of your heated nature and I am little but not prepared. Yet I shalt assure you one thing: you will not be able to win - for I am immortal. Strike me down, burn my remains to ashes with your spells and cast them into the winds, do whatever you please - I will not perish! I will return and my wrath will destroy you!"
Immortality..?
I remained silent for the moment as a few stray thoughts began to dawn on me ever so slowly. Aside from that I knew everything I could say would only provoke the lich. And I didn't know if it had been only his words or if there might have been more to his appearance but I knew he was right. I wouldn't be able win this fight, not yet at least.
Behind me the imp had finally finished its menial task and reluctantly jumped back into the little jar, closing its lid behind him. I made the first few steps backwards, not taking my eyes of the lich. Some parts of me wanted to test this 'immortality' he spoke about so openly really badly, but I was too afraid to do so – to channel the spell which would land the first strike. This was the first time for a very long while that I sensed something close to fear. That lingering sensation of cold sweat... I couldn't say I missed it.
As I made my way out of the complex all the acolytes I encountered offered me looks far darker than before. I wasn't sure whether they tried to find something to hate about me and possibly grow stronger or if they just wanted judge me, find out if I might be a worthy rival. My own thoughts were as dark as they used to be, blood spilled. Wouldn't that be suitable proving? But it all was broken up so suddenly as I passed by a group of eager students maybe a step too closely and one of them seized my shoulder.
I turned towards the acolyte with a certain rage inhabiting me and found myself staring into two ice-blue and likewise cold eyes.
"Remember my words, warlock. I shalt not repeat myself!" The acolyte whispered in a distorted voice, jumping through different tones.
Panic rearing his ugly head I shook off the hand and jumped backwards. I didn't even question what I had just witnessed, all that mattered was for me to hurry and leave the Scholomance. Making things only worse on the whole way out of the catacombs I heard the manic laughter of the lich following me.
I slammed the outer door of the Scholomance shut behind me and backed off as fast as I could. No stopping me I rushed to the boat that was still tied to the docks hoping it would get me off the peninsula without any complications. And luckily it did. It was not any earlier than the moment as I reached the other side of the Darrowmere Lake that I took the time to summon my felhunter. Not before then I was able to fully regain my composure.
Afterwards there was not left to do but to get back to the Undercity, I had to catch a flight to Kargath after all. And as driven as I was I had already shaken off the fear and only wanted to find out what I would have to do next.
Over the whole way, first to Undercity and then to Kargath I could only wonder if the lich had really spoken the truth. My sudden fright of his superior magic, although it pains me to admit, pushed to the side and quickly forgotten I focused on the more important things...
Immortality
How was that even possible? Though on the other hand..., was strength like mine even worth to achieve? Wasn't I still weak? Frail and brittle like ice as spring reaches northern lands? And even if I was to overcome these flaws..., I knew that it would still have to perish eventually, even though my life as a Forsaken would last far longer and withstand incomprehensible more hardships than that of an average human, orc or even elf.
The same thoughts came to me over and over again. They began circling through the beat up mind I was bestowed with. What should I carry on to do?
Or maybe, what should I better not do?
The time I needed to get to the Altar of Storms seemed to pass faster while I was caught in my own thoughts, yet the moment upon entering the cavern of Blackrock Mountain I focused again on to the present moment. I savored it for whatever reason...
I lived this life of undeath with a certain rush although I all the time I would ever need even despite the fact that death is not as eternal as it might seem.
To get from Blackrock Mountain to the Altar of Storms and the camp of the two more or less rogue warlocks did not take me too long. I handed the jar to the goblin after greeting both of them properly without any spoken words. And following the opener I commenced and didn't spill a single word about meeting the Lich named Frostwhisper. The warlocks wouldn't have left me with too much time to talk anyhow as the human of the two, Mor'zul, handed me a book I would find myself in need of – filled to the bursting with instructions for the summoning ritual I was to conduct. Then the goblin stepped up to me and gave me four more things: a golden bell, a strange looking wheel made of black iron, a candle and the sheet of paper with a single formula on it written clearly in blood.
Mor'zul then went ahead to tell me in short what I would have to do; how I would need all of these materials to conduct a successful summoning, tearing the steed over from Xoroth into this realm and severing its bond to its demonic master. Yet the real difficulty in this world was not to gather the ingredients, but to find and get to a suitable place where you were actually able to summon such a creature.
You are need of an area that is already filled with tremendous demonic energy to an extent that both realms almost start blending into each another. And this was something you could not achieve with a simple summoning circle, no matter how big or strong it was.
Yet still with odds against me I was the lucky one.
Because of Kaal's gift for me I was able to hand over the materials for the three items I now had received, that I would have needed anyhow, to the goblin warlock immediately, of which I had not known anything until that moment just before. This had left the two of them with some time to make out places in Azeroth that would be most suitable for such a summoning.
Fortunately or maybe even unfortunately there was one or maybe two to three places in this world where the summoning should not fail. The problem about this was... I would most likely have to travel to Feralas, a jungle in the southern part of Kalimdor, west of Thousand Needles. There I would find the place yielding most chances of success.
So basically what this meant for me was that I had to go back the whole way north to Undercity, head for Orgrimmar and then south into Feralas. I wanted little more but to scream out loud in frustration upon hearing this, but I was able to restrain myself in the last second.
Despite noticing my clear ill anticipation Wildeyes told me that the place of which they were talking about was to be found inside the ancient elven city of Eldre'Thalas. It was once a flourishing metropolis of wisdom and only the wisest of the nightelves were allowed to live there or even only enter the great library. Those elves soon were called by the name Shen'dralar, and without doubt they were probably amongst the most intelligent beings this world had ever set its eyes upon and buried them afterwards under the ages.
However, intelligence is about as far from wisdom as a mountaintop is from the sea... these elves devoured tremendous amounts of magical energy with all the pointless little things they used to keep their city up and running, and so it came that one day the prince of these elves had an idea to solve all their pesky little problems in one fell swoop.
He envisioned how they would draw their energy directly from a great demon. A despicable battery filled with all the hate and wrath of this world so to speak... And so the elves of Eldre'Thalas created one of the largest and most potent summoning circles that had ever been inside their halls. In this they gave in to their prince's madness and summoned a demon hound known by the name of Immol'thar. Yet soon enough the fel-energy of the demon infested some of the elves close to it and they slowly began their transformation into what we know imprison and fear for ourselves. Something we now know better as satyrs.
As the elven civilization slowly perished under the influence of the demonic energy, ogres took over the northern part of the city with ease and the Shen'dralar barricaded all the paths to other parts of the city leaving them cornered in their library where this seed of lunacy once had been planted . The demon known as Immol'thar deceased already several tenths years ago, leaving its corpse behind inside the prison still full of demonic fuel. The Shen'dralar on the other hand, despite of the fact how they had been basically the guardians of almost all the knowledge from the elder times, grew more and more insane on their own. Those without a ravaged body had fallen to their own minds... And wasn't before long that the whole city would be renamed to Dire Maul after the ogres had outnumbered the elves and demons by a fair bit.
As a last hint Mor'zul also told me that it should be probably the safest to enter the western part of the city first. This was also the area I would find the former prison of Immol'thar, therefore the place where I would have to conduct the ritual in the end anyhow. The rest of Dire Maul was no use for me and only a waste of time so to speak.
I briefly thanked the two warlocks for their help and bid them farewell. They on the other hand wished me the best of luck and the ability to make wise decisions. I guessed they already knew that we would never meet again, for one reason or the other...
But just as I wanted to leave them, the goblin of the unlikely duo made me the biggest present they could have ever have. And all that by simply yelling something after me..., how the horde had established a small outpost somewhere along the northern part of this valley with a possibility to get even to Booty Bay. The moment I heard it I immediately changed my plans and headed for this unknown outpost.
In retrospect it may have taken a while to find it and the lives of a good couple of dragon whelps, but I reached the outpost in the late afternoon of that same day and they actually had Wyverns there which would be able to carry me over to Booty Bay.
And just like that I arrived in the goblin city in the evening hours just on time to board the last ship for the day heading to Ratchet. Of course I hurried along the docks to get onto it... I would have the whole next day for resting purposes, considering the route it would be taking.
I arrived in Ratchet in the late afternoon of the following day with none of my demons by my side for various reasons. Thoonum of all things would get seasick, Belmon would always try to jump into the water because it was nicely bluish and dark in its endless depths, my imp was simply too annoy for comfort and Darnys? Well... I actually was a bit afraid of what might happen if I called her out now. I hadn't summoned her a single time since that... thing... with Calystea. I don't know... I didn't want to push my chances I guess.
A pair of Wyverns already waiting for me to choose from I then decided to head for Feralas directly and wait with summoning a demon until I was there. The creature travelled fast, just as I liked it the most, it even took a kind of shortcut over the mountaintops of the barrens.
We set down and landed in a tauren settlement called Camp Mojache; a place which would soon turn to be an outpost right at frontline of the Horde-Alliance conflicts. And now that we were sufficiently far away from any larger body of water I summoned my felhunter again.
Everything minor settled I then had to find out to get to Dire Maul the easiest and to my surprise I quickly found someone who would help me with getting there. 'Just follow the road', the Tauren grunted at me. It wasn't much of a lead but at least it was precise.
Feeling safe enough with this little help I received I did as I was told and fortunately it really turned out to be the best and easiest way to get to the ruins of Eldre'Thalas. The trail of stones I followed wound itself through the broken yet lush landscape. I passed through underneath the roots of giant trees and to the side of waterfalls but as soon as I had climbed the first hill, the old and shattered city appeared in the distance. From that point on all I had to do was to follow the obvious landmarks. Old pillars, large chunks of pristine white stone and the occasional corpse of an ogre lead me straight to its outer walls. Strangely enough it wasn't until I entered the outer ruins of the former city that I noticed the extremely high number of ogres appearing around me. Yet what should I say? In the end I was able to kill off any of the brutes that dared to oppose me with ease. Most of the time if there were three or more close to each other it turned out to be enough to kill a single one of them. The rest usually fled to save their own lives, not looking back even once.
With this tactic and mindset I came to an inner gate of the city rather fast. I passed through it and entered a courtyard which was, no surprise, also festering with the bulk-ish ogres.
Having still a good idea of which direction I was facing I began looking around in the western part of this area and was soon to find yet another door. It appeared locked, but why should I care about something like that...? I blasted it open with one of my spells and entered the hallway behind it anyways.
I travelled along the newly revealed path for a few minutes before I came to another, smaller courtyard, a shattered pylon made of white crystal standing in between a group of dead and dried out trees. I walked past the strange bleak monument and came to a large staircase leading downwards with again a heavy door, yet this one standing widely open to anybody. Was it a trap I wondered?
On the lower level a dead tree elemental was lying there, rotting away like the plant it represented, its body would probably soon vanish to the elemental plane, or at least decompose. I didn't think about it too much without having even the slightest idea for how long it had already been lying there.
The smaller hallway in front of me I could enter through the doorway seemed to be safe too. Something about this place was so obviously wrong... It took me about a minute or so before I was thrown out into a large open hall. I had never thought such a thing exist... It blew everything I had ever seen completely out of proportion. Somewhere to my far right I could see another one of those shattered pylons in the distance. And the longer I think about it... that hall was probably at least as big as the whole city of Orgrimmar.
Right in its middle my eyes came to rest on a circular structure limited by hundreds of columns that were arranged in a perfect circle leaving about as much room for three people passing through next to each other.
Inside this monumental building a small staircase led down maybe half a meter or so onto a green area with real grass growing there, only a few inches close to the center seemed strangely scorched. And in said middle of the whole structure there was another circle, this one completely made of stone, yet with a light violet tinge to it. No demon corpse around though, still I was sure this had to be the right place. I was able to feel the demonic energies around me, how they pushed me beyond borders of my own strength I didn't even know they existed before.
From the moment on that I had approached the columns I had heard strange voices... whispers following me. Quite fond of my own sanity I decided to have a look around before I started off with the ritual.
And it didn't take too long for me to get an idea of who was making the strange sounds. From the middle of the room I could see an elf sitting in between two of the columns flapping his arms wildly up and down. At first I could hardly anything but give him a strange look. But soon I began approaching him. He was clearly a nightelf and had long green hair on top of a dark violet skin color.
"Are you of the Shen'dralar?" I simply asked the strange elf.
Yet he only looked up at me in bewilderment, tilting his head sideways into a strange angle and stopped moving his arms for a brief moment.
"I am rowing!" He answered and continued flapping his arms to his heart's content.
What on earth? I made a few steps backwards and stepped back into the stone circle. I didn't take my eyes of the crazy pathetic elf, still not sure if he might have been only mocking me. On my way back into the center I bumped straight into another one of them. Where he came from, I could not tell...
"Yeti, yeti, yeti!" He shouted at me leaving me utterly clueless of what he might want. Then the elf who had told me he was rowing suddenly jumped to his feet pointing at the one behind me screaming.
"NOOO, it's a duck!" after that he started running away. The elf standing behind me then went on a chase running after him.
I looked at the scene not sure what to say or think and stood there probably with my mouth open for a couple of moments. But I also knew it wasn't the time to idly stand around... I had to focus again and came to the conclusion that it would be the best if I just started the ritual and don't mind the idiot elves too much. They would most likely flee should a demon appear so close by. Besides getting the steed fast would only grant me the opportunity to get away from that place faster. Having hesitated enough I opened the book of Mor'zul and followed the instructions as they read.
The exact moment I placed the candle on the floor in its place it lighted itself. The bell started to hover in mid-air upon releasing it and the wheel started spinning the same moment I opened up the Scroll for the ritual. Thoonum also began snarling the moment I read the first few words. I don't know what this language was, but it definitely was not Eredrun. I could not understand a single word, though my felhunter apparently did...
I read the text out loud from the scroll only once, just like the instructions said I should. And after a short while violet runes seemed to appear on the stone floor one after the other. They started to form a circle as in the middle of it the shadow of a horse appeared. For the first couple of moments it looked rather normal, but with every rune that was added the image became clearer and less that of a 'normal' animal. Soon you could tell that this was no ordinary steed. It had long spikes on its body, the head adorned by several horns, a mane of fire and a skin of black scales.
"TRESPASSER!" A loud voice filled the hall. "Minions! Kill him! He is out to steal a steed of mine!"
Small portals opened up as the seventh rune appeared. Imps jumped out of them charging at me. I screamed out loud in sudden outburst of anger. They wouldn't stop me now that I was this close. A nova of fire emitted from the place where I stood burning every one of the imps to mere ashes. A waste of demonic energy...
"Guards! Crush him!" A few felguards then came rushing from the portals. Every one of them was hit by a separate shadow bolt of mine as a welcoming to this realm, taking them out one after the other without major problems. The ninth rune appeared and the horse materialized in this realm.
"You are mine now!" I let the steed know and another shadow bolt flew at the demon, killing it too with a clean shot. But it did not die like the cannon-fodder sent at me before. Instead a frail spirit was rising from its body, flickering from energy of this place. According to the instructions I had the only thing left to do now was to touch it.
My eyes were focused solely on the ghostly appearance. I stretched out my arm to reach for it.
Yet the moment I came almost close to it something grabbed my wrist.
"You will never get one of my steeds!" I looked at the creature seizing my arm. "For I am Lord Hel'nurath! I will first take your arm for this insolence and then take your worthless life for the effort!" The dreadlord was grabbing my wrist tightly. His body was surprisingly similar to a human, except for maybe the hooves, horns on the head and the wings on his back. At least a lot closer to a mortal than Varimathras in Undercity poses to be.
Everything from that point on happened incredibly fast, far too fast for Thoonum to even interfere. The dreadlord put his left leg against my waist and with one strong pull he ripped my arm clean off and right out of the joint, knocking me backwards to the ground. It took a moment for the pain to kick in in this rotten body. I screamed in agony, not knowing why this was happening. Not even realizing how my senses were fooling me like that. Such a bastard...
"Pathetic..." The dreadlord announced as he threw the life-less arm over his shoulder taking a few more steps towards me. "You have no idea who you are dealing with worthless worm..!"
Luckily my felhunter caught the Nathrezim off guard in just that short moment, taking him to the ground by tackling him from the side. I was still wincing in agony as I got up. I was too busy trying to condemn myself for being so foolish to go near the horse without paying any attention to my surroundings, to push the pain aside. It was only due to the effort of Thoonum that he kept the Dreadlord at bay for a short moment, giving me this short window of opportunity. Lead by a certain despair I threw everything else into the wind and hurried up to the spirit of the horse so I could touch it. Maybe this would ease the pain I hoped, but quite the contrary applied. The spirit vanished into nothingness, maybe inside my body I would find it. But more importantly from one moment to the other my mind was flooded with pain yet again. Only mere seconds later everything finally blacked out.
I cannot tell you for how long I was lying there on the floor, as I don't know myself. All I can tell is that I dreamed of me falling into an endless black abyss. It was as if ages were passing leaving me with only two to do: falling and waiting for me to die.
I woke up on the floor of a huge library. My head still aching, I grabbed onto it with both my hands, fearing it might either fall apart or be gone entirely.
Then I noticed... realizing was like a shock for. Not too negative but still... My arm was attached! But..., but does that mean this whole fight was only a dream? Did I go through all of this for nothing? The longer I thought about it the more it came to be a possibility... yet ... no, that couldn't be. There was something I couldn't explain otherwise: all of a sudden I knew a spell that would summon a dreadsteed - or at least potentially. I would still have to try it, yet it gave me enough reason to be sure it all had not only been a dream.
Thoonum was sitting next to me, looking at me from the moment on that I had woken up, although I still did not really know where his eyes were or if he even had some or not.
As I got up to my feet, my whole body still hurt like hell. Thoonum then slowly started feeding my ravaged mind the information that I was lacking. He told me that the fight ended with the dreadlord fleeing, leaving me behind in a weakened, almost dead state.
As I walked along the room I had woken in, still unclear that it was in fact the fabled library of the Shen'dralar I turned around a corner only to find myself standing in front a large number of nightelves sitting at a table in the middle of the open room, some with books lying in front of them, some without. One of them turned his head towards me and yelled out in excitement: "The carpet hath awoken!"
Thoonum told me how that elf had been the one who found me and reattached my arm with his advanced healing magic.
If I think about the way how they talked and acted, I still have to wonder that they were this proficient at using spells. It was a miracle alone that my arm had been attached the right way round.
Yet before I could gather my concerns at the time another of the elves burst out "Yeti!", provoking the one sitting on the opposite side of the table to also start yelling again.
"Oh no, a duck!" He called out and jumped right to his feet. The two ended up chasing each other yet again and left me after seeing this for a second time with the sole wish to get out of that place as fast as possible!