Chapter 12:

It took me about a month before I had the heart to return to Undercity.

During the time I travelled a lot, roamed areas that were quiet and without too much population, Winterspring or the Un'Goro Crater had been places I sought out.

Animals started to avoid me completely on their own. They knew fully well what would happen if they attacked me. They felt it solely from my presence. Only a selected few beings that were either driven by an unknown rage or pure foolishness dared to oppose me. The latter ones mostly humans, showing again how degenerated this race had already become.

I showed no mercy for the fools. I obliterated every single one of them, no matter if human, orc, forsaken, furbolg or wendigo. Only the strongest survive... and if contested for no reason – then you have the right to kill or be killed.

Other people that came to me on a neutral or even somewhat friendly basis were rejected by me. I did not want company or help or whatsoever. I told myself I did not need it, ignoring the obvious facts.

Though even I too was not fool enough to hold a grudge against the rest of the world, but I have to admit, I was not too fond of it either.

The last words of my demons haunted me every single minute of that time. Every free thought was swallowed up in maelstrom of their voices, mixing into one large denunciation. And the only thing I had to banish these voices was my ongoing search for strength and immortality. I have grown as an individual due to the sacrifice but the way I wished to travel was still far from reaching its end...

As a consequence my former self slowly died away and with him the weakness I once cherished.

My mind was numbed due to the constant pain I had inflicted on myself. And eventually I started to block out the thoughts about my demons and focused back blindly onto the virtues of the Forgotten Shadow. They helped me to leave behind the remorse by giving a frail sense of hope to this worn out soul of mine... Something I would forget about sooner or later.

I began thinking how all of this would stop mattering once I achieved the ability to transcend death itself. And even though I had jumped his scythe once already, undeath clearly wasn't the answer I sought. There had to be more to it... With this lunacy flowing freely through my mind, it all was driven by the inane beliefs and wishes of the Forgotten Shadow. You never listen to your teachers except for those few moments... So maybe I could change what had happened once I was truly able to shape the world around me according to my own wishes.

That is the frail, often forgotten hope their doctrine had given me.

But other things also were at work. Tirelessly the hate that was inherent in my heart spread. Mainly I started to hate myself. But this would slowly change soon enough. Yet again ... it never came as far. It's hard to describe for someone on the outside, but at some point everything just turns numb and dead for you.

Of course, when talking about fool, and might it be myself, the rest of the world is rich of them. I came to meet several people that were seeking my help to obtain power. Some others even wanted to fight me to prove that they were stronger.

All of them were such idiots... they had no idea who or what they were messing with. None of those who wanted to fight me survived to tell their story. I ended most of the fights with a single spell, sometimes two. For I didn't want this to happen and I tried to avoid the point when the lust for blood would overcome me eventually.

On one evening I erased almost a whole tribe of blighted furbolgs because I gave in to the urge to kill. That night I got an idea of what might happen if something like this occurred near a city or larger settlement. But sooner or later this would even this fear of myself would grow meaningless for me again. I started to stay at the inns again and not outside the towns. In almost deserted areas like Winterspring or Silithus there was nobody that might recognize me as the warlock that I was anyhow. And those few who did know my name usually never lived through the night they bothered me. But nevertheless rumors even came to places like these, driving away again. On the other hand, I'm quite sure that some of the goblins of Winterspring knew my identity all along, yet they valued their lives enough to leave me to my own ends.

But my name wasn't the only one I heard during that time of hardship. After I had left Winterspring, I decided to travel to the other continent again. I did not want to return to the Undercity just yet, I wanted to stay in Tarren Mill for a while. The Hillsbrad Foothills were also a nice and quiet area at the time.

I wanted to stay in the inn for three days and afterwards travel deep into the Alterac Mountains, although I never came as far.

On the second evening I was sitting in the inn and heard how a group of three people were talking about me. They only exchanged knowledge about the latest rumors concerning me. And I supposed the warlock guild of Undercity was using my disappearing to push their own popularity. Otherwise I couldn't explain why even such peasants knew my name, all three of them only worms compared to me or even any other magic user. Yet the thing that aroused my interest were not the empty rumors, but the fact that they compared me to a certain person called Blarus Whitrick.

He was an overzealous warlock who had tried to summon a large amount of demons, straight out of the lines of the Burning Legion to attack the Lich King directly in the heart of his own lands. It is said that he once lived in Silverpine Forest not too long ago, but apparently had finally fled due to most recent events. It seemed a dreadlord had interfered with Blarus' plans as the rumors stated, though all of that nonsense was of no interest for me. Yet they also talked about something far more worth my while. He was supposed to be wearing a robe of some kind. They said something of a dark red coloring and patterns similar to the wings of bats and that you could almost see how the magic was flowing around it.

In history there were several sets of magical clothing created by only the most skilled tailors of their age. As I found out later most of these sets were lost to time. But I also had already heard rumors that one of such a set had appeared in the outlands not so long ago and that it actually seemed to be one of a kind. Worse than a coin flip but there might have been a slight chance that this was actually the robe that said warlock was supposed to be wearing, I figured.

In either case I knew I just had to have it.

Finding Blarus Whitrick - that was the actual reason for me to return to the Undercity. And even if the story with the robe had been only a peasant's lie, I still would have eliminated someone who was put up to me as an equal.

Unfortunately it was unavoidable that I was recognized inside the city's borders, but then again that was something I just had to deal with. After all I only wanted to get some basic information, some where's and some why's and then leave again.

But as I soon found out it wasn't just as easy as I'd hoped. The citizens of Undercity couldn't tell me that much. Most of them only knew the name Whitrick and his connection to the nether. Feeling played the fool I travelled to every bigger city and even almost all the settlements of the horde before I finally found an ever so small lead.

Just gathering the information on the whereabouts of this man cost me an incredible amount of time you could never believe.

I had grown somewhat desperate on my search for him, at least luckily for me I could offer a bargain none of the people I asked would ever want to refuse, so I was rather sure that they all told the truth: They were allowed to keep their lives in exchange. And none of them would have been worth killing anyhow...

The final piece of crucial information was given to me by a goblin in the town of Ratchet: Azshara he said. A region formed by the Great Sundering thousands of years ago. Old elven ruins shine forth along the jagged cliffs of this area whilst the great sea pounds against them without ever resting. For an extra coin the goblin threw in that Azshara was one of the only two places left in this world where the blue dragon flight still resides except for the icy fields of Northrend. Their scales would be worth quite some money on the market, no matter if black or legal. It took a while and a threat from my lips till the little green bugger noticed that this all was of no interest to me. I did not need money... Then he finally spilled what I wanted to hear from him all this time... that he had heard about this lone warlock now living in an old tower at the very tip of the land at the northern end of the Bay of Storms. Later I found out that this very tower he had spoken of was the Tower of Eldara.

Those were the only things I could find out no matter where I went, so I took my chances together with the first flight to Azshara I could get. The Wyvern landed in a small outpost of the Horde in the western part of those lands. Not even guards were stationed there, how laughable...

As I looked onto the map I wondered what the best way through this area might be. I could either follow the road which went straight through the Ruins of Eldarath and ride along the coastline or take the way over the steep hills, which was probably the longer one.

I decided to take the way through the old city ruins at first without giving it much thought, yet I changed my mind as I saw all the naga roaming the former elven city. They might not have been a serious threat for me, but they surely were a nuisance that would definitely hold me back. Naga warriors would be dumb enough to charge at me without caring about whom their opponent might be and the animals on the top of the cliffs were probably intelligent enough to avoid me as good as they could on their own. Therefore it was rather easy for me to change my mind this time.

And so I travelled along the ridged cliffs of Azshara, my mind filling with the lust for blood. Even though all I wanted was to possess the robe this warlock was wearing, the piece of clothing and nothing else. But if this piece of cloth was really as powerful as everybody was saying it should at least double my strength as a rough estimate. And more importantly I would soon be strong enough to transcend death itself for sure.

I was so desperate, I still believed that the voices haunting me would finally stop, finally come to a rest. Maybe, just maybe I was foolish to believe in the probability that I could quiet them in such an easy way. But you never know if you don't try...

The wide glades of Azshara were populated with hippogryphs and large stone giants, all of them keeping a safe distance to me. Just as I came closer to the north-east of the headland I noticed that I was already on a slope downwards.

Behind a couple of trees I could already see the tower standing at the very tip of the land.

It was larger than I had imagined at first and it looked surprisingly nice too, although I assumed that the lower floors should be flooded with water almost regularly.

All the seashells and starfish in the entrance of the tower proved me right.

Murlocs and a strange breed of crab-like creatures were strolling around the tower, forming a strange kind of welcoming committee.

At the time I still didn't pay too much attention to my new abilities. It was only after I had already entered the tower that I started to feel a strong magical entity at its top and immediately I was also rather sure that I should have easily felt it earlier if I had only focused a bit of my attention on it.

But it did not matter anyhow... as soon as I stood in the midst of the tower's lowest floor I could see a light shining down from above. I was sure that was the place where I had to go to. A stone staircase offered me the possibility to climb up to the top of the tower with ease. So I took it...

The whole building was artless on its inside, nothing compared to its outer shell. I would never have imagined the buildings of nightelves to be so boringly decorated, though I guessed already that had been only a misconception of mine.

With every floor I climbed upwards along the tower, there were more and more bookshelves scattered about and little laboratories with all kinds of bubbling fluids in little vials next to them. A thriving alchemist I saw...

The presence I felt grew stronger as I closed in on it. I even felt how it became restless for some reason. I could only assume that he was awaiting me. Yet I was proven wrong and to my surprise he didn't even notice me in the slightest. I tried to talk me into thinking that he was so absorbed by his studies that he just simply didn't notice anything that happened around him. And just I reached the top floor, I saw how he was trying to carefully pour a green liquid into something else with a bubbling red color. The room was, of course, circular and had a large hole in the floor that enabled you to look straight down to the first floor.

"Have a seat. I'll be done in a minute."

He pointed to a wooden chair next to a large table and said these words to me as I wanted to approach him from behind. The liquids in the vial mixed and now shined in a light blue. My aggression diminished from seeing his frail and unlikely body I sat down as he had said I should do... besides I had all the time in the world, had I not?

As the Forsaken named Blarus Whitrick turned around to face me, I had the chance to take a good look at the robe in its whole. To my surprise matching the robe he wore a pair of shoulder pads and gloves.

"So... now tell me, you know who I am I would assume... What it is that you want from me?"

I looked at him, still calmed. But I knew the lust for blood would eventually take the upper hand in my mind and tear that man to shreds. This would make everything a tad bit difficult, for I did not want to damage the robe if it could be prevented.

"No, wait... Don't say it... I know what you desire..." He still seemed to be rather easy, though slightly annoyed. He took off one of the gloves and threw it over to me. I caught it out of mid-air with a look of bewilderment on my face.

"That is what you seek, am I right?" Turning the piece of cloth around in my hands I nodded silently.

"Another one ... dammit! ... How many of you are still to come? Can't you just leave me alone?"

I stood up on my own and came a few steps closer as I put on the glove with cheerful delight. I told him the only thing I wanted was that set of cloths he was wearing, nothing else.

"I'm not giving it to you... It was a gift! And I will not hand it over to anybody! It was presented to me by the bronze dragonflight."

"What a remarkable lie..." I couldn't hold back the sarcasm in my voice as I began preparing for what would follow up next. And it may have been only the glove that I had put on, but I immediately felt how my strength increased. Not too much but just enough for the lust for blood to kick in again.

"Now give the glove back and then leave immediately, otherwise I will be forced to fight you!"

I broke out into laughter for a moment. He was so clueless...

"You leave me no choice..!"

I set a single curse of pain on him as he spoke these last words and he immediately dropped to his knees, wincing like the worm he was. His mind might have been able to hold back the open screams, but his body wasn't able to suppress the pain efficiently.

It somehow was disappointing to see him without dignity already, especially as he was known for the robe and how strong it had made him. But I guessed it only enhanced what you already had. So if there was nothing to enhance, the robe would be a charm to the eyes yet elsewise fairly useless. From that moment on it was clear to me that I would be far better suited for an ornament as this!

I walked over to him and crouched down next to his face. Not able to fight I took his head by the chin with the hand that wore the glove of his own set and forced him to look right into my eyes.

"Did you really believe you would survive a dance with the devil himself?" A dark grim came to my face, distorting the smile as the words had freshly left my throat.

It was easy for me to engulf my hands in flames, even demonic ones. Within the blink of an eye my whole hand was surrounded by a bright green fire that then started to burn away the skin in Blarus' face. Once the first layer of leathery tissue had been erased they slowly also started to eat away through the bones of his skull. By then he wasn't able to hold back the screams anymore and let it all out, piercing my ears with the sounds. The moment he quieted down again and as soon as I was sure that he had died his second time I let the flames vanish. There wasn't too much left of him by then, but well... you sometimes have to make a mess to achieve what you want.

I first took off the shoulder pads and the other glove and put them on to the table. Then I started to try to get him out of the robe. What a pleasant surprise..., he wore pants of the same kind underneath the vestment.

Without any use for him anymore I threw the dead body down to the bottom floor. A splash indicated the moment it hit the ground and with that a puddle of muddy water.

Then I turned around to the table. In front of me lay one of the strongest sets of magical clothing I would have in my reach. I wasn't too sure if the bright yellow and orange coloring was really suitable for a warlock, but it also reminded me of the relentless flame that burned everything that stood in its way. I reminded me... of myself.

I actually hesitated with putting it on.

The look of the set absorbed me and with every moment that passed I thought of it as more and more appealing. It did not matter who had made it or how, it would give me the power I wanted without knowing as much.

Savoring the moment I took my time changing clothes as I felt how I grew more and more powerful with everything I put on. Again... limitations were removed, the energies of the twisted nether opened up for me even further. As I wore all of them, I swore I felt the pulsating heartbeat of this world and hundreds more out there! Then... the lust for blood overcame me pushing everything aside. Two large wings reached out from my back the moment I had taken on the last piece of it.

Fueled by my own craving for destruction I hurried down the stairs again passing by the oppressed corpse of his former master. Nothing else mattered for the moment except to ease the urge, to quench the thirst.

I took down everything that was in sight after leaving the tower and began hurrying over to the ruins of the elven city of Eldarath to slaughter some of the naga there, if not all of them.

Sadly it did not come as far, somewhere on the beach that was also infested with these freaks straight from the depths of the see I came to a rest.

The moment I calmed down the wings on my back vanished again, sadly enough they were only a projection. Nevertheless I suppose I looked like an angle of death when they appeared on my back.

Or at least like a true demon.

On that day I became stronger than I had never dreamed of or imagined. Yet I still had not achieved what I really wanted. It appeared one part of the puzzle was still missing...

I was still too far away from transcending death and thus becoming what you would call a god.