Short summary
Varimathrus, who of course has mind control abilities, ordered Psy and Shark to see Fairbanks in the Scarlet Monastery and pretend alliance and see what they could find out. Fairbanks wants a book he lost when ambushed at Stratholme. It was from the Dalarans and allegedly contains the formulas used by Cult of the Damned to infect humans and blood elves with plague. The theory is that if this is known, it might be reversed. Fairbanks badly wants a reversal.
Ramifications for various races and the two factions are interesting. Hidden emnity between Varimathrus and Sylvanus is possible and Signe's post said this might be a theme in Wrath. Thrall wouldn't want change in his current alliances, I don't think, and especially the possibility of numbers of Forsaken becoming human again.
The actual rp story ended with Vord knowing about it, Bellmont and Raminus with suspicions about it.
Shark Psy and Path did not go to Strat yet. Varimathrus gave Psy worms in his head if you remember, and sent him rather insane. Anyway he is not in the Grin any more, and as far as I am concerned once the info was given to Vord it became his responsibility to pass it on to the Chief, or not., and I dont have to play any particular role in this except protect my arse from Varimathrus and perhaps Sylvanus.
Extracts for the thread of the story.
Nearly all of this occurred as subplot to Vord's Wandering Path, Chance of Redemption storyline.
Psylich spells out the intrigue possibilities near the end of the long version below, when he discloses to Vord. Bellmont muses on the possible outcomes at the end too.
Vord
Vord didn't know what to do: His "home" was no longer the welcoming place it had been, he no longer had any allies that he could tell, he was slowly dying from the disease growing from his arm. He could hear the voice of the Lich King slowly growing louder in his head, but the unbearable weight of guilt he felt kept him from falling again. He was close, balancing on a knife's edge, to going insane from it all. There was but one tether keeping him from loosing it, "Vord!
That's enough!" Vord paused, he was just about to maim a Grot that had been a bit to free with his tongue, and Vord decided that the Grot didn't need one anymore. Vord was reverting to his uncontrolled death knight state. He felt his mind becoming icy cold, his lust for pain and death starting to become unquenchable, but the voice brought him back to his senses.
He looked over at Xylien, who had her arms crossed, with a hand fingering the handle to her axe, "I said, that's enough." Vord released the rouge, bowing his head in acknowledgment. The rouge slipped into the shadows while Xylien walked up, addressing the rouge. "It's not wise to push someone who's close to the edge as it is. And as for you," looking at Vord, "I'd thought you'd know better, even in your current state."
The rouge spoke from the shadows around them, though without giving away his position, "Don't push the greenie, got it." Vord looked up, speaking to the rouge, "And if I were you, I'd stick as close to Lady Xylien as I could. She's your saving grace and the only thing that'll stop me from next time." The rouge cackled, "But Sir, it'll impair me from the task I'm supposed to carry out if I have to follow her all the time."
Vord took a few steps toward the area the voice was emanating from, but was stopped by a glare from Xylien. He sighed, and walked back over to his bunk and sat down, holding his head.
((((That was the beginning of Vord's Wandering Path, Chance of Redemption storyline. The "rouge" in fact was
Sharkfyn. Took place in guild chat first, and in the write up the officers were probably too busy to notice that they hadn't actually assigned this Grot a task ))))
Psylich
In the darkness, upon the crumbling path behind the Scarlet Monastery, two shrouded figures stole silently through the mist.
From their broken gait, they seemed undead.
"But how would they know the secret way out of the Monastery - and emerge unscathed?"
The Deathguard edged up over the crumbling wall and peered through his spyglass again. The shadowy figures had gone. He heard the sound of paws fast receding.
"In league with Orcs", he muttered. His mouth set in a grim line as he turned.
"Come!",he whispered urgently into the gloom. There was a faint creak of leather, and the slick rasping of a dagger being loosened in its sheath. "Follow them!", he hissed, gesturing after the last echo of wolfpads on the gravel path.
"Send word to me by messenger!"
He slid slowly along the wall until he had the edge of the secret door in sight, and there he settled, with the infinite patience of the Forsaken, to watch.
He neither heard nor saw the blow which stunned him, leaving him nodding in confusion with his arms hanging limply at his sides. Perhaps that was a mercy.
Before he recovered his senses a dark cloud enveloped him, and darts of pain shot through his sinews and bones. He looked at the ground with a sense of astonishment, as his withered organs were wrenched out and piled up before him.
He was sliced from shoulder-bone to shoulder, across his neck, his waist and his knees. He fell, gasping, as he heard the intonation he'd heard so often from his comrades-in-arms.
Already he could hear the word echoing in his skull....'deathhh'.
"But..you..." he rasped with great effort from a broken throat, "...You are Forsaken, Why...?"
The reply came from the shadows, from somewhere behind. A faint, dry-leaf crackle of a whisper: "Skassax bless ye, brother. You must embrace Her now, and it is better that way."
He saw yellow eyes, glowing. And that was the last thing he saw.
*********
Bellmont
"Murder most fowl." muttered Admiral Cyrus, viewing the slaughter from the Lady's Will.
"Hmm?" asked the Navigator, steering the ship lazily.
"Ha, blitherin' idiots 'dem Deathguards are. Wander to close to 'tah 'moonestarie gain, sir?" asked one of the Forsaken Marines, scoffing at the foolishness of their land-bound counterparts.
"Yes... but I sense something worse afoot. We haven't seen much activity short some unlucky lost pirates the last month. Lets return to dock... something tells me this needs to be investigated." ordered Amiral Cyrus.
"Understood, sir." said the Navigator, the ship steering around. For a moment plainly visible in the eerie light of the moon, but the Forsaken Warship then quickly slipped back into the fog of the North-Sea.
"Shall I send a messanger bat to Queen Slyvanas, mi'lord?" asked the Navigator.
"No... I'll contact one of the Grand Admirals, one death, no matter how suspicious, needs not to go that high up the chain of command." explained Admiral Cyrus,
"Understood, sir. If Grand Executor Marrah is currently located in Northrend, then which one do you plan on reporting too?" asked the Navigator out of curiousity.
"Grand Executor Bellmont, methinks. Haven't seen him since the expedition." said Admiral Cyrus, leaning on the side of the boat.
The navigator shuttered, remembering the chaos of that event.
"Understood sir. We should be docked by the morrow's mid-day." said the Navigator.
Sharkfyn:
The mist eddied around the faint shadow flitting through it
Boney fingers gently touched the ground, brushed aside some leaves, and encircled the faint indention in the soil.
Under her breath, the shadow-Sharkfyn cackled softly.
"Yesss, little bruvver. you try to run. Now you pray for the night to hide ya."
Then Sharkfyn swiveled her head slightly, dry lids narrowing as her mouth twisted into a thin sort of smile...."but I smell you little bruvver. You are very near. ."
She took a slow step. Then two.
"So near you don't dare to move....."
There was a sudden snap as a throwing knife was pulled from its sheath, and flung into the gloom. Sharkfyn's aim was rewarded with a sharp grunt of pain.
"Gotcha."
And then she was on him, a cyclone of flashing steel and dripping, serrated blades.
The dance did not take long, for Sharkfyn had mastered the steps. She guided her young rogue pupil through all of her favorite moves: the rib-cage hook and rip; the twin-bladed throat shredder; the Achilles-tendon tango. Her student was an enthusiastic subject, his mouth open in a silent scream, and eyes bulging with horror whenever some new body part fell away from him.
When it was finished, Sharkfyn sat quietly on the ground wiping her blades on the grass, as Psylich stepped into the small clearing.
"I see that you found him. Good. But I heard more coming up the path. We must hide the body quickly. And leave"
The bushes barely rustled as they slid the corpse behind a tree, and scraped a few leaves over it.
"Good enough," whispered Psylich. "We'll be well away before they...."
Sharkfyn stared at him, eyes gleaming. "Before tha wut? Find im? Won't take em long ta find im."
Psylich nodded. "Yes, it seems that some of his fingers have gone missing. Would you know where they are, by chance?"
Sharkfyn glanced around, snatched a mangled stump of flesh from the carpet of dead leaves, and slid it into one of the many pouches arrayed on her belt.
"That's one," Psylich nodded. "See any others?"
Sharkfyn shrugged, scanned the ground again, and shook her head. "If I can't, neiver can they."
The priest nodded once. "Very good then. We must go now...if Fairbanks speaks the truth, we have our work before us. We must get back to the cave before we are missed."
The two quickly stood, and slid away into the mist, not noticing the severed thumb laying in the tangled roots of a nearby tree.
Vord
((((Vord needed to go to the plaguelands because his infected arm was getting worse and Oroki needed plaguebloom to cure it))))
".....
After a few minutes, Oroki sighed and reached in her bag for a book. "It looks like I should be able to make a potion to counter the effects, But I will require Plaguebloom, and some from the area you received the disease would be the most effective." Vord pulled his shirt and armor back on, "How soon do you need it?" Oroki glanced up from her book and over to Vord's shoulder, "From what I can tell, you don't have too much longer." Vord stood up, looked around him, gathered the rest of his gear and started walking towards the door. Oroki's gaze followed him as he went. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked. "Time's running out, and I need to get tha-" He started into another fit of coughing, some blood coming up again. "You aren't going anywhere in that state." she started, "At least not alone." She eyed two grots sitting at a small table, talking amongst themselves.
"You!" she pointed to the grot named Psylich, "You're a healer of sorts, correct?"
The Forsaken stood, and offered a bow, "Yes Mistress, I am." Oroki nodded, "We have need of your skills. Go with Vord and keep him alive until he gets back. I understand you have a good understanding of plants as well?" Psylich straightened up, "Yes, Mistress." Oroki nodded, "Vord is looking for plaguebloom. Help him find it." Psylich bowed again, "May I request bringing Sharkfyn with us? I doubt she'll like sitting here while I'm off helping Master Vord." Sharkfyn nodded, but said nothing. Oroki looked between the three in front of her and liked the idea. "Very well."
Vord looked at the two grots, "Before we move out, I want you to know. There is a good possibility that I will turn on you while we're looking for this plant, and if I do, your orders are to deal with me permanently." Sharkfyn nodded again, while Psylich bowed. "Understood Master." Oroki looked at the new group, and addressed them, "Vord, you are to go and retrieve this plant. Get it and come back here, no sidetracks." Vord nodded. "And to you two," this time looking
at the grots, "You will make sure he does that. If he does loose control over himself, you are to bring him back, even if it means knocking him out and dragging him back." the two grot saluted, with Psylich adding another bow.
Vord looked the grots over a final time, "Well, let's get started then."
Sharkfyn
"Tha Plaguelands!" whispered Sharkfyn to Psylich, and there was a hint of glee in her expression. The priest nodded in satisfaction and rubbed his boney hands together. Then, with one last meaningful glance at Oroki and a slight nod
towards her, he followed Vord's stumbling form from the cave.
They stood at a sloppy attention outside, while Vord looked them over.
"Well, let's get started then." Vord's voice seemed to have lost its usual gruff air of authority. Sharkfyn quickly drew her hood over her face to hide any traces of the smug gratification she felt at Vord's discomfort.
Outside the gates of the Undercity, Vord turned again to inspect his escort.
"Where's Psylich?" he demanded of Sharkfyn.
"E's gettin' water or sumfink." She shrugged. Vord frowned and glowered at her.
"Ah..gettin' water - boss," she amended. At that Psylich emerged, "All ready, master." He briskly patted his pack, and exchanged a sly glance with Sharkfyn as they mounted up and followed Vord's wolf to the Bulwark.
Vord waved airily to the guards, his eyes fixed on some unseen goal ahead. A
hoarse voice rang out.
"Ho! Who goes there!" Argent Dawn guards stepped into the path, snatching at the
reins of the mounts.
"Out of my way!" shouted Vord angrily.
"And you are...?" High Executor Derrington stepped up to Vord's wolf, resting a hand on its neck.
"I am Vord of The Grin!" thundered Vord, his manner and voice regaining some of its old fire. "Let me pass!"
"And the business of the Grin in the Plaguelands is...?" Derrington's hoarse rasp was hardly above a whisper, but it seemed to have commanded the attention of the whole camp. Others gathered round, watching.
"This is my business. Not The Grin!", Vord replied, dismissively. Derrington stood still, waiting, as Vord looked at him closely for the first time and noted his rank. "I am wounded,"he said gruffly. "I need a plant from the Plaguelands to aid my recovery. I am here with Bellmont's permission."
At the mention of Bellmont's name, Derrington's hand dropped from the wolf and he stepped back.
"And these?" he asked, gesturing towards the grots hunched over on their mounts.
"They are just grots. One is a herbalist of sorts. The other..the other is merely a blade for extra security."
Derrington peered at Psylich and Sharkfyn, noting their weapons and armor, then nodded and stepped back.
"Let them pass!" He rasped.
The party gathered up their reins and spurred their mounts on into the yellow murk of the Plaguelands.
Bellmont
The gates of the bulwark where pulled back down as the travelers passed into the corrupted landscape.
High Executor Derrington began to think before barking an order, startling the Forsaken messengar.
"I want a letter sent to the Nightlord now, I believe he is currently in council with our Lady's court in the Undercity. Also note that I've sent one bat to the Blightcaller." instructed High Executor Derrington, writing several letters quickly as he spoke.
Sealing the two letters in an envelope he handed one to the Forsaken messengar, who quickly mounted his horse and sped off on the road to the Undercity.
High Executor Derrington then beckoned over four Forsaken bat-riders."Sergeant, I want you to take three of your men and keep an eye on our travelers. To the fastest and most subtle of you carry this to the Marris Stead with great haste. Notify me of suspicious activity, and engage with lethal force
if any treasonous occurs." ordered the High Executor, handing the letter to the Sergeant.
The Sergeant handed it over to the mounted Deathstalker, who quickly took off into the air, flying off to the Marris Stead. The three armored bats rose off the ground and flew off above the trees, keeping on eye on the Grin.
Vord
((((Vord encounters the Deathknight Fenris, and talks with him)))
The Death Knight darted into the shadows, and Vord could hear his mount riding off to his next objective. Vord turned to his grots, Sharkfyn watching him intently while Psylich was rummaging in the scrub a few feet away. Vord walked a few feet to where Shark and Psy were. He glared at Sharkfyn, as he knew Psylich was smart enough to do as told. "What you've heard here is classified from here on out, understood? You say nothing, not even to Bellmont." Sharkfyn nodded, but Vord wasn't too convinced.
Psylich came to the other two, holding a plant. "Did
you hear what I told Sharkfyn, or do I need to repeat myself?" Psylich looked up briefly, then went into a bow. "Of course master, I'm to speak not a word of this." "Good." Vord replied, looking at the plant in the Forsaken's hand. "I
gather that you've found what we've been looking for?" Psylich nodded, "Yes master, I have. If this is all you are looking for, then we are able to return to the clan."
Bellmont
The courier dismounted his horse and ran down to the Apothecarium, the Dreadguard's moving their swords together to prevent the courier from running into the Royal Quarter.
"Your reason for being here?" asked one of the Dreadguards.
The courier took a few heavy, tired breaths before answering,
"Message from the Bulwark for the Nightlord. Most urgent." said the courier.
The two Dreadguards looked at the courier before letting him pass.
"If this turns out to be a simple supply request, it'll be your head not ours." hissed the Dreadguard as the courier sprinted down the path.
"The process of the new plague goes well, mi'lady." said Chief Apothecary Faranell as the courier ran in.
"Bah, you say that every-time, Faranell. It's been five years and we've yet to see any major sucess." hissed the Blightcaller.
"Keep your tounge in check, Nathanos." ordered Queen Slyvanas,"Now, Grand Executor Bellmont, your plans for using the Grin for the crippling of Stormwind?" said Slyvanas, turning to Bellmont.
"It would seem we have a visitor." hissed Varimathras, looking at the frightened courier.
"This better be good..." muttered Bethor Iceshard, glaring at the courier.
"I know not, good Queen. High Executor Derrington sent me with great speed.
Directed to the Nightlord with most urgencey and to the Marris Stead too..." started the courier before he realized the Blightcaller was in the room.
"Speak with the Blightcaller... though this seems problematic. Reguardless, I give you your message, sir." said the courier, walking up to Bellmont and handing him the letter.
Bellmont scimmed over the message then glared,
"The audacity...." hissed Bellmont,
"Lord Blightcaller, if I may out of curiousity ask who you put in your stead?" asked the courier, turning and bowing to the Blightcaller.
"Archmage Raminus." replied the Blightcaller,
"Ahh, intresting that should be." said Bethor Iceshard to himself, ammused.
"Silience." demanded the Dark Lady, all other voices coming to a drastic halt upon her command.
"Grand Executor Bellmont, what is the problem, has the Plaguelands been breached by friend or foe?" asked Queen Slyvanas.
"That is debatable. The one who has passed has been involved with the Scourge in the past. It would suprise me little if he has been working with them this entire time." explained Bellmont,
"Are they expendable?" asked Queen Slyvanas,
"I would shed no tears of his passing, yes. Feel free to kill him if you so desire, my Queen. Though I doubt the Arch-Mage is up to the task. The infiltrator's skills are formidable to the likes of him." said Bellmont,
"Very well. I still have need of you four in this discussion, Varimathras, venture to the Plaguelands and slaughter these intruders." commanded Slyvanas.
Varimathras grinned, he had grown bored sitting in this city for day upon day. True the Nathrezim hated a fair fight more then anything else. But tormenting the weak before vanquishing them, was a pleasure seldom enjoyed in these days.
"With pleasure, my Queen." said Varimathras, sweeping around and consuming himself in a shroud of purple smoke, a small flock of bats comming from it and flying out of the Undercity toward the plaguelands.
Sharkfyn
Sharkfyn noticed it first. The wind did not ebb and flow through the trees in the usual way. Instead there was a continuous oncoming rush of sound. She dismounted and vanished, with an urgent, low-voiced "Stop!" to the others. Vord didn't seem to hear. He galloped on, while Psylich immediately slid off his mount and found cover by the road. She crept over to join him.
"You 'ear that?"
Psylich nodded grimly. The beating of wings, many wings, drew close. And then in a swirl of purple smoke Varimathras towered before them.
"Stand forth!"
The familiar stabs of pain pierced their minds.
"Dreadlord Varimathras!" Psylich stepped forward and bowed low. "'Tis I, your humble servant Psylich".
Sharkfyn stepped out of the shadows and saluted. "My Lord", she muttered, staring straight ahead.
Varimathras swept up into the air, peering down at them.
"So, the heretic..and Deathstalker Sharkfyn. Report!"
"We met with Fairbanks as you instructed, my Lord," Psylich offered.
"Not you, Apothecary! I address the Deathstalker!"
Sharkfyn drew back her hood, as Varimathras landed before them.
"A coupla Deathguards saw us." She flinched slightly.
"Yes. They did. This is...irritating unto me."
"Fairbanks is lookin' fer a cure for the Undead."
"Yesss", hissed Varimathras. "As I suspected."
"'E finks Psylich and me want a cure. 'E sent us to fetch 'is book wot he got off them Dalarans."
"Treason!"
Sharkfyn nodded. "'E's daft as a brush though. 'E babbles rubbish."
Psylich bowed again. "If I may, my lord?"
Varimathras glared at Psylich, then nodded. "Speak!"
"My lord, Sharkfyn is unfamiliar with our terms. The High Inquisitor conveyed some formulas unto me. It appears he obtained them while..ah..interrogating the Dalarans."
Varimathras eyes narrowed. "Repeat them to me!"
Psylich recited several alchemical formulas, but before he had finished Varimathras roared with laughter. Startled, Sharkfyn stepped back.
Varimathras' gaze bored into the pair. "The man is an ignorant fool! His victims played him for one!"
"So it seems, my Lord", Psylich nodded. What could have been a slight smile flitted across his ragged features.
"And the book?"
"Yes....the book." Psylich slowly wrung his hands together. "..That could be of more value. It contains the original experiments on the blood of the Scourge, and perhaps concerning the formula which the Cult of the Damned used to spread the plague. He lost it at Stratholme during the ambush."
"Find it and bring it to me! Tell nobody of this!"
Sharkfyn skittered three steps to one side and coughed with a sound like snapping twigs. "Sir, Bellmont is.."
"Silence! Tell no one!" The demon slowly grew larger, and smoke poured from his eyes. Needles of pain shot through the Forsakens' heads. They both fell to the ground clasping their skulls.
"Now to this other matter." Varimathras resumed in his normal tone. "Report!"
"Vord met wiv Deathknight Fenris. They was friends I fink. I didn't 'ear wot was said but 'e ordered me not to kill 'im."
"And you obeyed him?" thundered Varimathras.
"Yes sir", said Sharkfyn, barely audible. "We was ordered by tha Grin officer ta watch 'im. an' kill 'im if he acted funny and turned on us. Nuffink was said about killin' no Deathknights."
Flashes of purple light sizzled around Varimathras hands.
"Indeed," the demon muttered as if to himself. "Indeed."
Vord
Vord had found identification of the batriders with their badges of which unit they were in, and collected them to take them to Marris Stead. He and the grots mounted up, and traveled for a bit before what sounded like wind rustling the trees came to sound a bit odd. He heard Sharfyn mutter something, but the Forsaken always said things to one another so he dismissed it before riding on.
After about 3 minutes of hearing nothing else but the air passing as he rode, he wondered why the two grots were so quiet. He looked back, and saw his answer.
"Damn Forsaken, you can't trust them any farther than you can throw a dragon."
he cursed. He looked around to see if they had stopped nearby, as they had been quite pre-occupied by looking at dirt and rocks throughout their journey in the plaguelands. He sighed, and resigned himself to riding alone to the Stead. "I'll report their absence to an officer when I get back, he thought, "It's still a bit too early to punish them on my own." He rode the rest of the way to the Stead, and to his surprise, saw that the Blightcaller wasn't there.
"What business do you have here?" Raminus inquired. Vord dismounted and started walking up to the mage when two guards flanked him and stopped him in his tracks. "I came to report that three of your batriders have fallen at the hand of the Scourge." answered Vord as he held out the badges to another guard. "I figured I was doing right by the Undercity reporting this, but it seems I was mistaken." Raminus looked at the badges, and then gave them back to the guard dismissing him. "What you say might be true, but you also might have killed them yourself and tried to cover it up. We know much of your treachery, nothing escapes the ears of the Dark Lady." Raminus nodded to the guards, and Vord felt
them tighten their grip on his shoulders.
Raminus grinned, "We'll keep you here until the Blightcaller or the Nightlord say otherwise. Send word to them immediately, tell them we have our guest in secure hands."
The guards lead Vord to several cages. They used the cages to bring specimens back to the apothecaries and Deathstalkers for studies and combat practice, so
holding an orc would work just fine. Vord sighed as he saw Sakumo being tied to pole, and thought of his situation. All of the outcomes would either get him killed, brand him a traitor, or likely see him incarcerated or used as a guinea pig. He sat back in his cage and waited. If Bellmont came, he had a slim chance of getting out of this by using information as a bartering tool. He didn't like the idea much, but it was the only way to keep everything intact.
He sat In his cage for hours when he hear the deep wingbeats of a riding bat. He mind raced as he heard Raminus giving the briefing and the guards saying,
"....He's this way."
Bellmont
"Very well, Grand Executor. Seeing as you and the Blightcaller have explained well enough the situation I shall dismiss you to the Plaguelands. Keep an eye on this buisness, and on Varimathras... particuarly the latter. I fear I've given the demon to long a chain, if so, shorten it by my demand." ordered Queen Slyvanas.
Bellmont and Nathanos bowed deeply and walked to the Bat-Handlers.
"Truly I must wonder what Varimathras is up to. The two other Forsaken that entered my territory concern me deeply. Varimathras has agents more loyal to him then Slyvanas, if we find them, we must deal with them properly. Lest we be in another civil war." commented Nathanos,
"I think not, Nathanos. Dreadlords are the most deceptive creatures perhaps in existence, people have gone their whole lives unknowingly being their pawn in a scheme so long and complex it's unfathomable by most. Slyvanas is no fool, whatever ace she has up her sleeve it must be indeed be powerful." responded Bellmont as the two approached the bat wrangler, each being mounted up in a moderatly armored bat and sent off.
Soaring above the clouds of Tiristfal they took their own route,"Theres to much land to cover to find Varimathras without tracking skills, and even then it's difficult at best. We'll most likely need the aid of others.
Perhaps the Farstriders?" suggested Nathanos as they flew toward the plaguelands.
"The Elven Rangers will be our best source. Your the first and currently non-elven Ranger Lord, and I know of no Dark Rangers who'd be avaliable." responded Bellmont,
"Very well, head to my stead. We'll send the mage to fetch aid from our Blood Elven allies. I'll track this disturbance personally, I could get a few more bat-riders but with the sudden increase in gargoyle presence that may be less
productive." said Nathanos,
"Understood, good luck." said Bellmont as he pulled on the bat's reigns, causing it to a barrel roll away from Nathanos and fly upward in an arch, letting out a eerie screech as it descended through the clouds and toward the Marris Stead.
Meanwhile....
The Blightcaller lowered below the clouds, peering at the ground. Suddenly two Lordaeron Reclaimer Bat-riders rode up to meet their commanding officer.
"Sir, we've spotted Varimathras in the nearby area. With to Forsaken believed to be involved of the murder of the Deathguards. Permission to watch the execution?" asked
the Batrider,
"Negative, but your timing is impecable. Let us ride, the Queen smells something... darker afoot." comanded the Blightcaller.
The two bat-riders suddenly locked up in disposition and lead the Blightcaler to the area. They then broke off as the Blightcaller ordered silently. His bat drifting silently below the clouds, listening in on the conversation.
Vord
(((extract))))
Vord looked at Bellmont through the bars, and knew that the undead blade master's mind was accessing the situation. He could see the gears turning in the Forsaken's head, and didn't like what he saw. "This is not good." he thought, "I'd bet my tiger he's going to execute me right here." After what seemed like an eternity, Bellmont broke the silence first. "What are you doing here, and why did you say you were under my orders?"
Vord thought for a moment and decided that the truth, while it wouldn't set him free, would be the fastest means of his demise. "I'm under orders from Oroki to gather herbs for an antidote for the disease that's spreading from my arm. As for saying that they were your orders, my presence in these parts as of late has caused a bit of suspicion, and regretfully to succeed in my mission a small amount of deception was required. No one in their right mind would question your
orders, and I had to use that to my advantage."
Bellmont
(The German words are substituting for Dalaran here btw)))
Bellmont jolted his hand, hitting cracking Vord in the head with a heated prong of iron.
"Your foolish in the way you think that I care of why YOUR here in such detail, Vord. The fact of the matter is Psylich and Sharkfyn were with you and recent messages support the theory they killed two Deathguards near the Scarlet Monastery. What they are working on I cannot say but it's imperative that I learn of what they are doing as soon as possible." hissed Bellmont,
"Mein lord, tun think this involves Hoch Inquisitor Fairbanks?" asked Raminus, throwing a suspicious eye over Vord.
What followed was a short conversation in common between the two Forsaken. The Imperial Guardsmen looking at Vord with distaste in the meantime.
After several minutes of pointless bickering the two seemed to agree, Bellmont mounted up and glared at Vord,
"You will obey, or you will die. Xylien's friendship with you will not stay my hand forever. But for now I must try to find him personally... you will aid in this." said Bellmont, riding off.
Raminus then stepped up, motioning for Vord to follow. The squadron of Forsaken Guardsmen following them with a unison march that gave the illusion their numbers where much greater.
"Folgen, 'Vord'." said Raminus, speaking his name carefully as to not miss say it.
"Das Nachtfurher wishes for du to live, be thankful fur that. With that said, das does not mean that du will not have dein own part of das deal to hold up." said Raminus as they walked,
"This ist between du and me, but ich think das Inquisitor has some form of a cure for undeath." whispered Raminus, his tone becoming less professional with every word.
"However, ich digress. Du will have to aid in finding das Forsaken du brought with you. While du are in mein company, do not stray far. Das guards will not take kindly to it." he drew his finger across his throat, to show execution for fleeing.
Psylich
(((extract)))
"I suspect we will need help in this endeavor, if we are to play out our roles in Varimatherus's sport. We, you and I, would meet certain doom if we ventured into Stratholme on our own."
"Like 'oo then? Bellmont would come for our 'eads if he knew. Varimatherus will want us dead, anyway. You ain't gonna 'ide that kind of thing from the likes of 'im."
The priest nodded, and tucked the book away into a satchel. "Perhaps. But I suspect that success at obtaining the book would go far toward staying his hand.
It is a common trait among his kind that success, however obtained, is admired... and success through deceit is even more respected than that obtained while merely doing as one is told."
Sharkfyn glared at him. "An 'oo in tha Grin do ya fink ya can trust den? An' what will they fink when they git Varimatherus breathin down ther necks, eh?"
The priest sucked on his teeth in silence for several moments before answering.
"There is one. When you have a moment alone with Path, tell her that we must arrange to meet in secret on a matter of some importance. It will have to be vital that none other knows whence she goes, or with whom she meets. Just in
case..."
"Just in case we haff ta..."
"Yes," Psylich affirmed. "Just in case."
Vord
((((Raminus and Vord set out with guardsmen in search of Psylich and Sharkfyn, and Vord tracks them down)))
The guardsmen bowed and set off, as Vord started tracking the two Forsaken again. The tracks got harder to find as they went, obviously the two 'renegades' didn't want to be found. 'The tracks are well hidden, they know what they're
doing, or at least one of them does. Too bad they're using old techniques.'
They went a ways farther, and were out so long that the sun set, making the trail that much harder to find. 'These are fresh.' he thought as he looked at a partial footprint and a broken tree branch 'They're close.' He looked around to see where the next set of tracks lead when he saw the distant light of a fire.
He motioned silently for the rest to follow and crept up on the camp.
"..It will have to be vital that none other knows whence she goes, or with whom she meets. Just in case..."
"Just in case we haff ta..."
"Yes, just in case."
Vord knew that it was his targets in the camp, and they were planning something, but now wasn't the time to speculate on this new information. Raminus had
already spread the remainder on the squadron into a formation the surrounded the small camp, and moved to give the order.
Bellmont
(((Single handedly defeats an army of Scarlet Crusaders, then encounters Varimathrus))))
Kneeling to the ground he gave a slight prayer to the Crusaders he had slain. He felt a bit bad for the act, they where young, probally joined for saftey. It mattered little, the Light would recongnize the true and banish the impure.
Bellmont then continued, letting out a loud whistle, Bayne galloping over to his postion. He mounted his stead, patting it on the head and going into a light gallop.
As the sounds of bats and a dark whirlwind spun around him he sighed,
"Ah, Varimathras... to what do I owe this pleasure." asked Bellmont, annoyed he'd been detected so easily.
"Leave this area at once, the Lady wishes for your council in the Undercity. Immediatly." demanded the Dreadlord, once again swinging into a vortex of shadows, a swarm of bats flying off toward the Undercity.
"My current command comes from her you imbecile. Dreadlord must be running out of lies, Light know's he's used everyone known to most mortal races by now..."
he muttered to himself as he continued down the path.
Meanwhile...
"Jetzt!" barked Raminus.
The various Forsaken sorrunded the camp. Forsaken Crossbowmen armed their weapons as the Vanguards stepped forth from all directions, sorrunding the camp.
"Guden Tag... fellow Forsaken... du are under anhalten on das command of das Nachtfurher. Ausfall to comply... will result in deine zerstörung. Attacking us will be betrachtet un krieg-crime if not a willful act of krieg or beweis of an alliance with das Scourge." hissed Raminus, speaking to no one in particular.
The Crossbowmen held their fire, as the Guardsmen held their chage, all awaiting the order.
Sharkfyn
Psylich stood up slowly. Sharkfyn stayed crouched, assessing the situation around her with narrowed eyes. Her eyes rested on Vord, and she arose and faced him.
"Where was you?" she asked. "I told ya ta stop cos I 'eard somethin' funny."
At the same time her fingers flashed to Vord in Grin battle language. He gave a slight nod, while Psylich swept the group with a cold gaze. Her claws closed one by one.
4 3 2 1.
She vanished and reappeared behind Raminus with her sword at his throat.Vord whipped his bow up and around, pointing unwaveringly at Raminus heart.
"Order them to stand down, or die!", he roared.
Vord
Raminus began to give the order to open fire, and Vord gave Sharkfyn a silent order to take him out, but leave the mage alive. She drew her blades across his throat, severing his vocal chords, but not drowning him in his own coagulated
blood. Vord fired his faux arrow, and it bounced off Raminus' skull, the dull tip knocking him senseless.
Psylich grew a sinister aura around him and shouted, "Lashtal!" and sent the guardsmen running in fear and madness. Vord unsheathed his sword and cut Raminus' hamstrings and achilles tendons, immobilizing him. "I won't kill you." he said to the severely injured mage, "You didn't kill me when you had the chance, so we're even." And with that, he brought the pommel of his sword to the mage's temple, knocking him clean out.
"Quickly," he said two the grots, "We need to get out of these lands before Bellmont discovers what we've done." The two nodded, and started running out of the camp as Vord finished laying a trap to give them more time to escape. The group ran, heading south, than west to get out of the plaguelands. Vord destroyed the groups tracks as best he could, doing everything he could to buy more time. They eventually took the southern road into the Alterac mountains, and took a path into the hinterlands. From there, the boarded a boat taking them south, to Stranglethorn.
When they got on the boat and into their cabin, Vord looked at the grots, this being the first time they stopped long enough to speak. "Raminus told me something about a cure, what is going on?" The two grots began speaking to one another in gutterspeak, deciding on whether or not to inform him of their going on's. Eventually, Psylich took a deep breath and begun.
Psylich ((spells out the possible ramifications of a cure and who might benefit))
The ship rocked in the brewing storm
While timbers creaked and lamps flickered, Psylich silently regarded his superior while thinking of what he could safely say.
Several scenarios for delay, or even misdirection, slid through his mind. After a moment's consideration, however, the risks of lying were judged to outweigh the rewards given the recent turn in events.
"This is a very...shall we say a delicate situation, Master," the priest began.
"I didn't ask to be patronized with the obvious," Vord snapped. "Speak!"
Sharkfyn and Psylich exchanged uncertain glances.
"You can begin with Varimathras," the hunter growled. "I'm sure we'll figure this out from there, grot. Every dirty detail. Won't we?"
Psylich nodded. Indeed, the scope of the situation would be impossible to conceal at this point.
"The Dreadlord recruited us for an errand, Master," Psylich began. "We were sent via a secret entrance into the Scarlet Monastery to speak with a little known denizen therein...Fairbanks. A former High Inquisitor of the Crusade who was afflicted by the scourge. Indeed, I find great irony that the Scarlet fanatics shelter one of the undead in their stronghold."
The priest began to cackle, but a sharp glare from Vord encouraged him to continue.
"Fairbanks seemed to have a book, since lost. Within that book there may be hints to a formula for the reversal of the plague that the Lich King brought upon the land. Varimathras was desirous of that tome, and sent us to find its location from Fairbanks. We were under explicit instructions that word of our presence there would not survive with any observers. And now that the location of the book has been hinted at, the Dreadlord hath commanded us to recover it."
Sharkfyn stared at Vord with an unreadable expression. "We was tole not ta tell noone. Varmatherus, 'es gonna be mad when 'ee finds out we tole ya, boss."
"Truth," Psylich affirmed. "I've no doubt that the Dreadlord plans to kill us to cover his actions once the book is recovered. But you, Master...his actions around your knowledge, should he divine it, would be most unpredictable. After all, the implications around this book are of a proportion that cannot be overspoken. Should a cure be found for the plague, I have no doubt that it would mean the certain enslavement of the Horde, if not an extermination of our races.
At the very least, the Forsaken and the Blood Elves's alliance with the Horde would be at an end. Varimathrus' desire for the book may indicate a rebellion within the heirarchy of the Undercity. Or he may be desirous to avoid these catastrophic outcomes."
Vord unsheathed a dagger, and slowly put the tip to the priest's left eye. "I'll be hearing the rest of this, now, grot."
There was a faint snapping sound when Sharkfyn released a catch on her own scabbard.
"Proceed. If your fellow grot moves, I'll have both your carcasses heaved over the side when I'm finished with you."
Psylich glanced to his compatriot and tried to smile - an action so long neglected that flakes of leathery flesh fell from the corner of his mouth. "Stay your blade, Sharkfyn. Master Vord is being more than reasonable thus far."
Vord moved the tip of his blade a fraction of an inch closer to the priest's eye.
"You understand, Master Vord, there are several possibilities in play. The first is that the Night Queen sent Varimathras on his current course of obtaining this book. Possibly to destroy it. This is the most favorable of possible scenarios. However, this does not mean that Varimathras will not keep and use the book on his own. Dreadlord though he be, he holds no intrinsic loyalty to the Horde, and if the Night Queen were to fall, his oath would be finished and fulfilled.
"Another possibility, Master Vord, would be that the Night Queen seeks the book. Not to destroy it but to use it."
Vord stared at the priest, and said nothing for several long moments. Then: "I overheard you speaking of a meeting in the woods. You will tell me who you planned to meet with."
Psylich and Sharkfyn exchanged glances.
"Path, Master."
"And what does she know of this?"
"Nothing, Master."
The dagger went back into Vord's boot, and the hunter stood.
"I've seen grots smashed, bashed, impaled and burned. I've seen them hung from bulwarks, buried alive and once I even saw one used for bait to keep a full elven war party entertained while we snuck around the back side. But you two...I ain't never seen a grot in the kind of trouble you've gone and got yourselves into."
Path
(((On patrol, perceives Vord and the 2 Forsaken stealing back to camp)))
Path stood at her post overlooking the Grin camp silently. Not the sheeting of the rain or the rich smells of decay distracted her finely tuned senses as she watched over the Western approach to Stonard with a patience many would envy.
A ghostly flicker in the trees below her made the Elf smile slightly, the spectral cat that approached was her dearest friend and one of the few things left in Azeroth that could bring even that much expression to her face.
"Bansidhe," she greeted the soul of her sister, "What have you seen out there in the swamp my Sister?"
An image filled her mind, in the wordless way her sister always communicated, three figures moving furtively through the swamps. Two of them, Forsaken, were well known to her, the third, an Orc, was less so, though also a member of the clan.
"The way they move speaks of secrets, sister," Path murmured, "Let us find out what it is they wish to keep hidden."
Motioning the cat to take point ahead of her, Path slipped into the rain-soaked night, a deeper shadow in the gloom.
Vord
Vord, Sharkfyn and Psylich landed on the eastern shores of the Swamp of Sorrows. They looped north, then west to avoid Thrall's camp of Stonard. The Grin had a camp in the area from when they had occupied the cave, and kept it as to watch Thrall's forces and to keep a force from chasing after the Grin into the portal.
A few grunts and grots were left, with a couple of raiders to act as messengers and guerrillas. Vord knew that they would be safe with the Grin, but wanted to keep contact with others to a minimum, at least until they rejoined the main force in Outland. They went a ways farther before they heard a slight rustling in the grasses and something moving through the pools of water.
"And what are you three up to?" asked Path, Bansidhe standing by her side. Vord whirled around to meet the voice, but paused when he saw who it was. "Path," he nodded his head, "We're on our way to regroup with the main force."
Psylich looked between the two raiders, holding his tongue, while Path looked them over.
"Is that all?" she inquired. "All that you need know." answered Vord. Path shrugged, knowing that to press it would get her nowhere, "Then I guess I should return to my post." Before Vord could answer, Psylich stepped towards her, "Mistress, I must speak with you." Vord shot him a glare, "Not now grot, it's not safe here." Path looked between the two, seeing the obvious. Vord motioned to Path to follow. "We're going to need you to come with us."
Bellmont
((muses on the consequences of a cure for the Forsaken state, after engaging Deathknight Fenris in battle))
"Unable to win a fight without that army of yours, Death Knight? No matter, your judgement will come by my hand soon enough. We Forsaken sometimes wonder if there is a Heaven, Death Knight, but we're certain theres a hell. And they'res a spot waiting for you there." yelled Bellmont as he rode off on Bayne.
Indeed the presence of the Scourge had increased some amount, though it mattered little.
As he rode toward the Bulwark he wondered of the consequences of a cure.
"The alliances with the Horde could become strained... but at the same time they already are. We Forsaken have become a differnt nation... in this time. If a cure where to be found... humans would be seperated for the first time since before the founding of Strom." muttered Bellmont to himself.
"Would we be any less trusted? Doubtful. We are looked at Pariahs now by both sides. The Alliances has damnded us, they have spat upon our name. We came to them, as free men and women, sick men and women who had stood by them in battlefields, sheltered their citizens when the Orcs invaded and in our most desperate time they called us monsters." hissed Bellmont to himself,
"They told us our very existense was a crime against the Light, and heance they excommunicated us. Not from just the Church of the Holy Light, but from our humanity. They called us monsters, they beat us back into the darkness. Secretly, they support the Crusade though they mock if publicely? For what?!"
"They are worse then the Crusade. The Scarlets are overt in their hatred, blind with it though they may be as well. But they have no secret intentions, no hidden agenda, they wish for a purging and that is it. The Alliance hides this... desire to erradicate. And simpily call us monsters."
"Am I no longer human?" asked Bellmont to himself, lifting up his hand and removing his glove.
His hand was cold, his skin a pale white. Claws extended like razors from the tips of his fingers. No pulse beat in his arm. But is that what it was meant to be human?
To have a pulse? To bleed red blood? Or was it more? If so then he was human... though this form refused to show it.
"The Orcs can abandon us, the Elves will not, the Dread Lord will fall, the Alliance will fall, Lordaeron will once again be united. The world, perhaps will be at peace. If a cure is found.. if not."
Bellmont glanced over at Apothecaries working near a cauldron as he spoke to himself quitetly.
"The Forsaken, will unite this world... one way or another. It is up to the other races... if they know it or not.... to choose if it will be united under day or night... life or unlife... cure or plague."
"The death knell has rung... for either all life or unlife. It seems it may be in my hands as to what it choses...."
(((around this time I had to play much less and do home stuff. The book with the alleged cure ended with Vord's Chance of Redemption thread, and me taking Path aside in game, in rp, to ask her to come to Strat with us, no reason given.
She had enchant stuff she wanted from there so agreed.)))
Vord
Vord, Sharkfyn, Psylich and Path rode into the Grin base. They were finally home. After all the crossing, double crossing, secrecy, and parts played in near revolutions, they were home. During all this, the Grin was the only constant,
and Vord was glad to be back. In the coming days, Bellmont would come back, but would keep what happened to himself, and they would all fight in the battle of Wildhammer Keep, and witness the end of their chieftain. They would all play parts in the struggle to escape A'dal's influence, Sharkfyn and Psylich would receive their commissions as raiders of the Grin (ooc by Gorfrunch), and Vord would finally be free of the control over him by Arthas.
The story took place fairly recently, but it suited the RP for Vord to have us as Grots throughout.