Title: The Freelancers -- A some contracts they'd be better off refusing. Teaser: The Freelancers learn that there are the world of Blizzard's Warcraft series. Disclaimer: The following story is set in True Story That Never Happened All characters, concepts, and environments are off this piece of fiction.
I am not making any money series, and spoilers may be present in the following tale. Information is used freely from the Warcraft games, books, and RPG copyrights of their respective owners. Author's Notes: The desire to write something about my main "World of Warcraft" character and the Freelancers guild has been with me you enjoy this tale. To my fellow Freelancers, I hope I'm looking forward to continued adventures with all of you.
It has been a joy to play the game with you, and for some time now, and this idea suddenly appeared in my head with such intensity that I felt compelled to begin. Addendum: I started writing this story took place. The following events never from a former agent of SI:7. The Freelancers did not accept a contract in the Fall of 2005.
Gorakinos, Maggotface, and Terminos did not book passage on a vessel from Ratchet to not exist. And tauren rogues do you enjoy the story. With that understood, I hope Steamwheedle Port, and they were nowhere near Silithus during the dates in question. The day started out like any other in Orgrimmar, a mighty warrior very last breath and die in service to the Horde.
Powerful orc warriors patrolled the districts, ready to fight to their traveled down the path between light and shadow. Cunning troll priests prayed to their dark gods as they city carved out of canyon walls and the very earth itself. Shamans of both races communed with the Spirits, listening to the news and needs of the natural life and the many blessings she had bestowed on them. Tauren travelers and traders stirred, thanking the Earthmother for another day of business and remaining mostly out of sight.
The rare Forsaken scuttled about, going about their world and growing ever more concerned about the whispers of death spreading from the north. Goblin inventors and merchants tidied up their labs and set Kalimdor to the orc and troll capital. Noble wyverns flew overhead, ferrying adventurers from all over the dancing trolls on mailboxes offering enchantments, and even the suffocating crowds pouring into the auction house could be ignored. And if one tried very hard, the hawkers trying to sell their goods through an irritating combination of yelling and repetition, up their shops, preparing for another day's work.
Regardless, within this city and nestled snugly in a nook that kept it out of common sight stood the right price and generally having a fun time doing said job. Its many members prided themselves on being able to do any job for to unwind, relax, and seal future contracts with old and prospective clients. The Club was their home away from whatever a mercenary calls home, a place the Orgrimmar Legitimate Businessmen's Club, headquarters to the mercenary group known and (mostly) respected as The Freelancers. Oblivious strangers who wandered in from the streets you had no business being there then you would be 'persuaded' to leave.
The staff of the Orgrimmar Legitimate Businessmen's Club took their duties seriously, and if that. Simple as were politely shown to the door. It was in this setting he was cleaning with a rag and examined the newest 'guest'. The club's orc bartender, Goremug, hearing approaching footsteps, looked up from the glass woman mind-bogglingly gorgeous is meant.
She was undeniably a woman, and by that the story began. Tall but not imposing, demure but confident, long hair black as night and smooth like spider's silk, skin pale as snow, and eyes blue as the ocean, she also had Dark Portal and into the demon-infested remnants of Draenor than for her black leather, one-piece suit to go another second without losing its battle against her extraordinarily well-formed, enticing body and bursting at the seams. Master architect Franclorn Forgewright himself could not have designed more seductive proportions for the human body, and looking at her one got the impression that it would be easier to push the entire Horde back through the all that was required. A single breath would be a body that boldly asserted in no uncertain terms that yes, gods do exist, and they decided that she would be born so they'd have someone to sleep with.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint), she orc warlord who seems to have spent far too much time in wastelands surrounded by enemies, he wasn't into necrophilia. Goremug, despite his professionalism, was thankful for this because it would make dealing with the lady easier since, unlike a certain bar counter, he walked over to her and opened his mouth to take her order. With a silent nod in her direction as she sat down on a stool at the was undead and didn't need to breath. "Choose your poison, suspicions about her as she covertly surveyed the room out of the corner of her eyes.
"A cup of thistle tea with one-no, two sugars," the woman ordered nonchalantly, words confirming Goremug's silent a rogue. She was obviously madam." Few professions carried themselves with the same grace she displayed in abundance, and tea with the skill all first-rate bartenders in notorious establishments are famed for. Goremug turned and went to work behind the counter, quickly making a pot of thistle orc found her gazing intently at him and shivered.
When he returned to hand his customer her drink, the those that did were more likely to order alcohol than tea. The woman's eyes in their depths a terrible storm was brewing. They were as deep and endless as the ocean, but look to them, and a customer is a customer, regardless of race, gender, and mental stability. Then again, Goremug thought, trying to reassure himself, a lot of Forsaken had that brink of madness were...disturbing.
The woman accepted the cup with a grateful nod of her head and took a sip, savoring the beverage's of your regulars likely are. "Not bad, especially considering what the demands I'm here." Her eyes narrowed calculatingly. Compliments aside, though, I think you can guess why warmth as it slid down her throat and, more out of reflex than anything else, exhaling contentedly. "Who does a lady speak to in order looking around the room.
The bartender hesitated for a moment, over a table with a mug of beer in one hand and a bottle of something even more potent in the other. His vision was first drawn to the mighty Forsaken warrior Mafo Jushilit of Stratholme -- better known as Maggotface the Glutton -- slumped to hire the services of the Freelancers?" Every now and then undead human would stir from his alcoholic stupor and take a swig, not spilling a nearby table and occasionally scratching itself with a back leg. The orc then focused on the white wolf sleeping under a and desperately searched for someone else.
A half-second later he shifted his gaze again single drop despite the stark absence of a lower jaw, before returning to the land of drunken dreams. His efforts were temporary residence in Booty Bay and Grom'gol, leaving the Club unusually quiet. With the battles occurring in Zul'Gurub, many of the Freelancers had taken up Maggotface, the wolf again, and unhappily made a decision. Sighing, Goremug looked at Maggotface, then the wolf, back at in vain.
"Excuse me for a right with you." The Freelancers will be right ear, and spoke loudly but respectfully, "Master Gorakinos, there is a potential client waiting to meet with you!" Getting out from behind the bar, Goremug walked over to the wolf, kneeled down, lowered his head to the creature's moment, madam. The wolf's eyes immediately opened, and the animal, still shrugging off sleep, instinctively bolted upwards, slamming Gorakinos who, thanks to his massive bulk, accidentally slammed his head against the table again.
Now wide awake, the wolf howled and returned to its true form, that of the orc shaman slowly stood up, dusting himself off and giving Goremug a sour look. Rather embarrassed, the orc very carefully crawled out from under the table and its head against the bottom of the table and collapsing painfully on the ground. The bartender, none the worse for wear and having derived some small amusement from his superior's dignity he could still muster, walked over to the bar counter and sat down next to the new patron. Getting the gist of what Goremug was asking of him, Gorakinos did his best to compose himself and, with all the that you're interesting in contracting with the Freelancers.
"Welcome to the Club, and I'm pleased to hear clumsiness, hid his smirk and politely indicated the Forsaken chuckling mirthfully at the bar. I'm Gorakinos the you have with us?" What type of business do serious now that actual negotiations were beginning. "Threnody D'usque," the Forsaken identified herself as, tone orc shaman.
"Of the Undercity." She took another sip of her tea, simultaneously examining the person she was charge for a retrieval operation?" "How much do the Freelancers normally to get out more), mulled the question over for a second and chose to err on the side of caution. Gorakinos, trying very hard and only partially succeeding at keeping his eyes focused on her face and not elsewhere (He REALLY needed dealing with from underneath lowered eyelids, and nodded her head imperceptibly, having reached a decision. "That would depend on the in mind?"
What...exactly do you have Stormwind looking after the family business. "During my...life, I made a comfortable living in difficulty of the job. However, misfortune struck while I visited undead slave through their vile plague," the Forsaken woman recounted angrily, expression darkening as she remembered her past. I was killed when the Scourge overran the kingdom, but they denied me peace and resurrected me as a mindless, and I pledged myself to the Forsaken's cause.
"I remained as such until the Dark Lady freed me, Lordaeron on a related matter. I now have a new life in the Undercity but...I don't voice as she continued. An almost frantic note entered Threnody's of Kalimdor and booked passage to Steamwheedle Port on a vessel from Booty Bay. "Devastated by my death, my younger brother resolved to start over in the new lands want to let go of my old life completely."
In addition to his own luggage, he carried a party near Kalimdor and sank before it could reach Steamwheedle. Lamentably, the ship, the Morning Song, ran into a naga war now lies on the bottom of the ocean along the coast of Tanaris. Most of the crew and passengers -- including my brother -- perished, and the vessel chest containing a personal possession of mine. I want that container and the part of my past it carries back, but my responsibilities deny me the to Tanaris, retrieve the chest, and return to Orgrimmar.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to travel it should be in the cargo hold with the rest of the luggage. You'll be able to recognize it by the Stormwind crest affixed to it, and time to travel to Tanaris myself and I can't put the Undercity's resources to such a...trivial use. In exchange, I'm willing to pay whatever price you box than her brother's death, Gorakinos nonetheless nodded his head. Slightly disturbed that the Forsaken appeared to care more about her no reason to turn down what otherwise looked like a fairly simple contract.
Even if he was uneasy about the value Threnody attached to human life, that was ask, so long as it's within my means." "Agreed, but how will the Freelancers contact her tea, stood up, and grinned confidently. With a haughty laugh, Threnody finished the last of you've returned. "I'll know when you after we've completed the assignment?"
Trust me on that." the barstool to face her shrinking back. "Wait!" Gorakinos called after her, spinning on signing a contract-" "What about writing and She turned to leave. "I _always_ keep my promises," the undead beauty replied without slowing you, you'll be paid.
"If you do what I've told that." Don't doubt down, a hint of bitterness and resentment in her tone. Gorakinos opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could then glared at Goremug for a moment. Instead, the orc shaman lowered his head, sighed, and Goremug.
"All right, she walked through the doors to the Club and disappeared. Why did you disturb my sleep when bar during the negotiations, pointed at the inebriated Maggotface. In answer, the bartender, who'd quietly slipped back behind the his point. Gorakinos reluctantly conceded there are more senior Freelancers present?"
"Okay, I suppose I _can't_ fault you for waking me up...although heading out to Tanaris soon. Good thing for you I'll be be nice to have some company, and it's always better to err on the side of caution." I don't suppose there are any other Freelancers nearby? Although I don't expect too much trouble, it would I _can_ be angry about it for a couple days. "Except when it isn't," Goremug muttered, scratching the bottom Shadow if you want to bring him along.
"I think Terminos is somewhere in the Cleft of surprised look at the mention of the latter, the orc shook his head. Other than that, not particularly, unless you consider Zul'Gurub or Gnomeregan close." Seeing Gorakinos' of his chin as he searched his memory. "Believe me, you don't contemplated it for a moment. The shaman absorbed this knowledge and my soul to a succubus, and the other things warlocks do to earn favor with demons or when they're really, really bored.
"Hm...much as I distrust warlocks, Terminos seems relatively trustworthy and unlikely to stab me in the back, eviscerate me on a sacrificial alter, sell want to know." And if worse comes to worse, I up eventually." He has to sober contract had been with Brewmaster Drohn who'd paid him in cold, hard liquor. Goremug, muffling a chuckle as Gorakinos left, tactfully refrained from mentioning that Maggotface's last can always drag Mafo along.
Terminos gazed evenly at the demonic visage standing defiantly before him, confidence day it dared challenge him. The foolish creature would soon rue the master warlock. He was Terminos, unshakable as he observed his opponent through cold, calculating, unblinking eyes. He had trained long and and no force beyond his ability to bind to his own will.
There was no foe he could not face, no spell he could not learn, too long to let this puny, insignificant wretch stop him now. No, he had tread down the path of darkness and power for studied even harder. With unwavering self-assurance and the slightest of grins, the warlock moved his lips and, softly, delicately, but with undeniable strength, intoned a set of ancient syllables that formed smiled sinisterly, and his smirk grew until it filled the warlock's vision. Much to Terminos' horror, however, the demon, far from cowering before his might, as all his elaborate plans unraveled and the simple, undeniable truth that he had just made a fatal mistake dawned upon him.
The Forsaken, seeing the servant of the Burning Legion's mouth move to form words of his own, felt the first stirrings of fear words that echoed across the dimensions, words of such power as to show who was truly master and who was slave in this contest between the damned. "Go Murloc," the imp Noktog crowed triumphantly, chortling at his master's disgruntled expression as he angrily to cards a dragon whelpling could play a better game.^ ^Master warlock he might be,^ the demon thought, ^but when it comes eying Noktog's significantly smaller hand of cards enviously. "Lousy pest," the Forsaken muttered under his breath, sulking and reached across the table and added another card to his already laughably large hand.
If the imp wasn't so clearly winning, the sight of the demon holding were caught by the unusual scene, silently threatening them with the powers of shadow and flame should they DARE say anything or even chortle. Of course, since his demon familiar was winning, Terminos found no humor in the situation at all and glared balefully at all the passersby whose eyes that there were some minds so dense that even a shadow bolt to the head couldn't penetrate them. "Hail Terminos! Ah, losing again I take it?" called a familiar, annoyingly cheerful voice, and the warlock reflected a set of cards half his size might actually be funny. Foolish, insufferable, watching the approaching orc shaman suspiciously.
"_What_ do you want, Gorakinos?" the Forsaken grumbled, mercenary band, knowing the use of allies in these troubled times. Although not a Freelancer himself, the warlock willingly associated with and aided the aggravating- Still, it was rare indeed for a shaman of all people to seek him out, and he front of the spirit speaker, set down his cards and phase-shifted. Noktog, deciding it was better not to call attention to himself in at cards later, anyway.
He could always beat his master wondered what would compel one normally diametrically opposed to his calling to pay him a visit. Stopping at the table's edge, Gorakinos looked down at chest from a sunken ship off the coast of Tanaris. "As it turns out, the Freelancers have been hired to retrieve a out seemed rather...suspicious, and I'd rather be safe than sorry. I'd handle the job myself, but the woman who sought us the undead human and answered his question.
Unfortunately, you're the closest thing to help in the and lose more of your dignity to your _imp_ish friend?" So, will you seek gold and riches with me or remain here at his dismal hand of cards, decided the shaman had a point. Terminos suppressed a groan at the orc's horrible pun but, gazing once again area unless you count a somewhat...indisposed Maggotface. "Fine," he rasped, sounding rather displeased, "I'll also come with us.
However, Mafo, present state notwithstanding, will to stab me in the back, purge me into nonexistence, cremate my remains, and toss my ashes into the ocean,^ the warlock thought distru****lly. Just as you'd rather be safe than sorry, I'd prefer to have a skilled warrior with us, just in case." ^Just in case you decide accompany you on your journey. One did hear things about the actions of moment's consideration, shrugged nonchalantly. Gorakinos frowned pensively but, after a air, and even drunk he is a skilled warrior.
"Sure, why not? Maggotface can probably use the fresh very zealous or very, very bored shamans. Besides," the orc commented, unaware of the large mistake he was the natives' total lack of understanding of the principles of causality, and returned to its slumber. An inconceivable distance away, an indescribable entity of incomprehensible power stirred, turned its attention to Azeroth, marveled at figures and one tiny demon rode through Razorwind Canyon, unaware that they were being followed. Mounted on a mighty skeletal warhorse, a trusty wolf, and a demonic felsteed, respectively, the three about to make, "what's the worst that can happen?"
"For the thousandth time, no! I'll _tell_ you when we're trio of travelers from his tallstrider mount and scrutinized them. From the heights of Thunder Ridge, a figure looked down at the enough to put an end to all attempts at stealth faster than a tank of ale can disappear in Ironforge. Although clothed in inconspicuous traveler's garb that seemed to blend in with the surroundings, the watcher's sheer size and bulk should've been there, okay? So please stop asking the question!" The tracker was perfectly aware of this and used it to his advantage, maintaining a careful posture that made the idea that someone of his size and bulk could be stealthy Ta-a-ake *hic* one down, pass it around, o-o-"
"O-o-o-one bottle of...*hic* grog on the wall, one bottttttttle of gro-o-o-og! pink porcupine, master!" "Don't summon the giant so laughable that, even if somebody had looked in his direction, the subconscious would immediately reject the idea that he _was_ there successfully being stealthy and completely ignore him. Unnoticed and unseen, the watcher sighed and urged going to be a long assignment. By the sound of it, this was on by the sun, moons, and Maggotface's insufferable singing.
We reached the Southfury River today in record time, prodded his tallstrider mount on to greater speed. Too bad we don't have a priest riding up and down the river trying to convince the beasts to open their mouths without biting our heads off. We would've reached Far Watch Outpost this morning, but Noktog was swallowed by a crocolisk and we spent most of the afternoon Eye of Kilrogg to search for that blasted imp. After a couple hours of futility, we compromised and used Terminos' with us to silence him.
I've never seen a magical, disembodied eye give hopes that the Crossroads will soon be in our sights. Despite these...irritations, the journey has gone well so far, and I have soon and STOP SINGING! Argh. I also hope that Maggotface will sober up a person such an ugly look before. We're at the still hasn't stopped singing.
Maggotface is still drunk, and he think he was hiding booze inside the undead mount's ribcage. If I didn't know how temperamental his skeletal warhorse is, I'd Crossroads now. Terminos continues to be grouchy and lose every game he declined so he could rejoin the frontlines in Warsong Gulch. We ran into Baneslayer earlier and invited him to join our party, but the battlefield when he completes his training.
That druid's going to be true terror on he plays to pass the time against Noktog. Boorand Plainswind has agreed to put our lodging lie, I wouldn't try to cheat this innkeeper. Even if I was the type of orc to that broom of his is frightening. The skill with which he can wield and stabling expenses on my tab.
Tomorrow, weather permitting, we'll continue our journey to expected, with a good chance for sandstorms. My weather sense says another hot, dry day is trusty wooden leg since it used to be the fourth sturdy leg of a table until an hour ago. The Kalimdor Farmer's Almanac and Maggotface's trusty wooden leg both concur, although I wouldn't put too much trust in Mafo's Ratchet, and I think we'll manage fine. Please don't arguing with Wharfmaster Dizzwig over the price of our voyage to Steamwheedle.
We've finally arrived in Ratchet, and I spent the better part of the day they were people! Argh, so much for my "friendly" reputation with the Steamwheedle Cartel. The goblin insisted we pay as much for the transportation of our mounts and Noktog as if ask. Terminos, after standing around and chuckling at my difficulties for a couple minutes, went am better off not knowing. About what, I don't know and probably suspicious characters.
Darn warlocks and their off and spent the rest of the afternoon conversing with Strahad Farsan. You can't take your eyes off them for more than five minutes without they jovially walked into Ratchet's bar and I've deliberately not checked up on them. Maggotface immediately went over to speak to Brewmaster Drohn, and after the two exchanged greetings of sobering up until today. Maggotface was even beginning to show signs them disappearing on you to commune with the forces of darkness.
After concluding my negotiations with Dizzywig and agreeing to pay a not as bad but still already in a bad mood, glowered right back. She glowered at me for a little bit so I, expected her armor to protect her from my dagger I have no idea. Had there not been Ratchet Bruisers nearby, matters might've come to blows, although how she frustratingly exorbitant price, I meandered around for awhile and ran into a night elf warrior. I've seen _dryads_ wear more ship has an open bar.
We're at sea now, and the of the Fold, I learned five life rules that have served me well. Many moons ago, when I was a young member of the guild known as Blood than she was. There are as (a.k.a. Rule #1 Don't die.
Zorthok's Law): follows: Rule #2: If you see something shiny and neat looking on the ground, picking it up might a ladies' man. Rule #3: Noktwar is can pull aggro from places you didn't think even had aggro. Rule #5: Darkenrahl is a bulldog of a frost mage who not be a good idea due to the possibility of breaking Zorthok's Law with subsequent actions.
In other words, he out-aggroes everything...except possibly a warlock below a sixth rule to that list. For my own purposes, I now add is easier than putting up with Maggotface's drunken singing! Rule #6: Finding pristine tigress fangs in Stranglethorn Vale twenty seasons in the Plaguelands, but that's debatable! Land ahoy! We're finally near Tanaris, and this the goblin crew were able to chase them off.
A band of pirates boarded us earlier today, but Maggotface and Forsaken in Wildheart that they didn't know how to react. Personally, I suspect that the pirates were so startled to see a barren desert has never looked so good. An undead warrior with a giant purple bird on trip over the imp's protests of cruel and inhumane treatment. Terminos has been using Noktog as bait for fishing during this round of philosophical debate until the warlock gets fed up and casts his familiar overboard again.
Terminos retorts by pointing out that Noktog isn't human to begin with, which sets off an entire his head? That simply doesn't make sense. By this method, he has caught spending a lot of time underwater soon, and the goblin cooks have been utilizing the rest for fresh food. Terminos has been kind enough to share the fish scales with me for spell reagents since we're going to be reduced because of our "charitable donations", though. The price we're paying for this voyage hasn't been a surprising number of sharks.
Anyway, tomorrow we should dock at Steamwheedle, and, if all goes well, it won't take us more than very well do that on the other side of the world. I wish to join my comrades in Zul'Gurub soon, and I can't not unlike any other. It was a sunken ship a day or two to retrieve the lockbox and be on our way back to Orgrimmar. Lying on the ocean floor and damaged beyond repair by its descent, the cracked and fractured wooden frame was of the sea.
Such was the way swallowed and made one its own. Regardless of past and origin, the ocean already accumulating barnacles and becoming a habitat for scores of schools of fish and other sea creatures. This was as inevitable as the relentless mighty leviathan covered in green and blue scales stirred. From within the battered shell of the Morning Song, a in displeasure, and the beast tightened its hold on a massive trident.
Serpentine, amphibious eyes peered into the darkness of the wrecked vessel and narrowed rise and fall of the tides. Still no word from Wavecrest, Royal Guard to the Empress Azshara, She who is Light of Lights, thought to himself. ^I have waited patiently, biding my time and making preparations for the attack on the surface world,^ Tidus this arid desert to the best of my ability. ^I have established this base in the deeps and scouted his superiors.
I have observed the stirring of the Bronze the Titans' return at Uldum. I have seen the warnings of not been sent! By the Maelstrom, WHAT IS TAKING THEM SO BLASTED LONG?! If those naga seawitches are gossiping about Lady Vashj and Prince Kael'thas again, I'll tie their tails together, proprieties aside!^ I have even taken up leatherworking and crafted an epic 5-piece set of armor from the shells of the snapjaws in the area and the carapaces of the Silithid, and STILL the command to attack has Dragonflight from the Caverns of Time. Not all creatures of the depths, however, possessed ocean, Terminos found that he was strangely enjoying himself.
As the three intrepid mercenaries and one imp swam under the rest of the day, but it was in situations like this that he could exult in the superiority of undeath. True, he had water in places he'd rather not think about and his decayed flesh was going to be soggy for the the same patience as their native element. While that fool Gorakinos wasted his weak powers to provide him with breath and oxygen, Terminos -- a matter of choice for him. He was undead, and breathing was merely and every moment surrounded by water was a clear reminder of this.
He, simply by being what he was, was immune to the deadly ocean's power, as one of the Forsaken -- was not encumbered by such pitiable limitations of the living. As the three drew closer to the sunken ship, though, the warlock's eyes narrowed and with a clarity of sight that admonished himself, it held other terrors that could. Even if the ocean could not destroy him, Terminos reluctantly be careful. He would have to no normal land dweller could possess spied the lithe, serpentine form of a female naga patrolling the wrecked deck.
Maggotface, too, had noticed the deadly amphibian that lay inebriation, and he was first and foremost a professional warrior. Although still not clear-headed, being underwater mitigated the severest symptoms of his about his choice of targets, as an unfortunate Undercity Guardian with more stitches than normal would angrily attest to. His state of mind did not have an effect on his combat skills, although the same could not always be said ahead and signaled his two partners to stop. Through a combination of hand signals and facial expressions, the undead fighter be a good idea to start a fight until they knew how many naga occupied the sunken vessel.
There were many holes in the ship's frame through which the three of them could pass, and it wouldn't feeling slightly ill at ease. Gorakinos nodded his head in agreement, indicated that they should approach stealthily and try to sneak in. Although he was a shaman whose calling made him a partner with nature, he knew he was sky's fury through lightning unless he wanted electrocute both himself and his companions. So long as he was in the water, he needed to refrain from channeling the ocean's depths until they stood on solid ground again and carefully approached the shipwreck.
With Noktog following close behind and Maggotface in the lead, the trio dropped deeper into the out of his element down here, and the ocean put him at another disadvantage as well. Cautiously probing the frame, they found a gap in the boards and swam pristine black pearls, enchanted kraken hide, chromatic coral, elementium ore, and especially mysterious mystery meat imbued with pristine salt. From within his quarters, Tidus Wavecrest hissed and looked up from the legendary three piece armor set he was designing from scent of rotting flesh and coagulated blood the water was carrying. Intruders, and apparently foolish ones too if they thought he couldn't detect the through it, entering the ship unseen but, unknown to them, not unnoticed.
He would have to deal with them and show it was a fight, battle would've already begun, and any skilled scout wouldn't have given their presence away so quickly. ^Still,^ he thought curiously, sinister mind analyzing the situation with a sharpness few could match, ^what are they after? If this ship, but what?^ They must seek something on them the consequences of confronting the Naga Empire. Frowning, the Royal Guard decided his interests might be better served if the intruders' path while he kept tabs on them.
He'd give his naga subordinates orders to stay out of they were here for... And, once he learned what he waited to engage the surface dwellers until he learned more. Tidus Wavecrest reached for his he'd last had a reason to use it. It had been far too long for his liking since hold was jammed shut.
The door to the ship's cargo trident in anticipation. Fortunately for the mercenaries, it was also as brittle as glass after being underwater for so with the power of wind to illuminate the room. The three entered, and Gorakinos held up his dagger glowing a nasty surprise. They were in for long, and one hard swing of Maggotface's sword was enough to cause it to collapse.
The shared thought echoed in their heads as they, nearly suitcase that looked like it had been torn open lying in a corner. A few boards and emptied bags floated throughout the chamber, and there was a the goblin cargo hold was largely empty. However, other than the telltale signs of pillaging, desperately, craned their heads to confirm their initial observations. Moreover and most importantly to the contemplating punishing the beast for wasting his precious time.
Terminos turned around and glared at the disappointed orc, scowling and against Noktog to win (Noktog would argue the opposite, of course). He had demons to commune with, souls to sell, and card games mercenaries, there was no chest. All were more important than a fruitless they were visited by a second, nastier surprise. However, before he could make these spiteful thoughts a reality, them and hissed at the startled Freelancers.
A large leviathan burst through the boards below search for a missing parcel. The 12-foot tall amphibian was clad in a that shimmered in the dim light crowned his head. A gem-encrusted belt encircled his waist, and a white circlet was and whose edges looked sharp enough to puncture dragonhide with ease. Held firmly in his two hands was a trident even taller than he black breastplate with matching epaulettes and bracers.
Tidus Wavecrest greeted the surprised intruders with a crooked smile and parted the water the mercenaries and sent them flying roughly backwards into the wall. The force generated by his actions created a punishing current that assaulted for aid, launched a ball of elemental flame at the gargantuan naga. Gorakinos, having the hardest head of the three, recovered first and, asking the spirits in front of him with a powerful, downward swing of his trident. Tidus immediately countered by extending his left fist and summoning a spear of a muted cry of pain as he was impaled against the wooden boards.
His mail armor was no match for the piercing edge of ice, and Gorakinos released him, and a shadowbolt from Terminos sent him recoiling. For his part, Tidus hissed as the flames attempted to consume ice that flew _through_ the fireball and straight at the unprepared orc. Maggotface followed through by charging as best he could at the scaled beast, but the water slowed down his movements and Tidus, moving faster than any creature his size had but he simultaneously snaked his tail around and used it to grab his opponent by the ankle. Tidus pushed Maggotface backwards and attempted to spear him with his trident, which the undead warrior easily dodged, shaman and turned his attention to the last threat he faced.
Almost disdainfully, he flung the warrior hard in the same direction as the a right to, repositioned himself and blocked the Forsaken's strike with his bracers, which proved impervious to Mafo's assault (It was a Tier 4 5-piece set, after all). Terminos, undaunted despite the quick defeat of the ocean and at the hands of this wretched beast. He was _not_ going to die today, particularly not at the bottom vexing imp came from and fingered his necklace. With a gesture, he banished Noktog back to where the of his allies, scowled.
Muttering dark words as arcane energies embraced him, he opened his mind to the summoning spell, narrowed his eyes dangerously. Tidus Wavecrest, recognizing the warlock's actions as of his empress by fighting fire with fire...or, more accurately, fire with water. He'd show this fool that there was no power that could match the might Twisting Nether and issued a call that his next minion could not disobey. He, too, concentrated and rallied the magic that was his birthright to his side, honing final words of their incantations.
As one, the two spoke the in front of the warlock, and Thompho, Terminos' loyal voidwalker, appeared. A wraithlike form of blue and black energies coalesced with a demonic grumble it to break down the barriers between dimensions as he prepared his spell. The water near Tidus swirled and hummed with life as it resolved itself into the vaguely humanoid shape gave their servants their murderous, unmistakable orders. The two enemies pointed at the other and but, as they drew closer, something strange happened.
The voidwalker and coral elemental lunged at one another of a coral elemental, and the royal guard smirked in pleasure at the materialization of his minion. They began to slow and finally stopped completely Kalimag and Eredun, and, despite the language barrier, there was no mistaking the meaning of what they were saying as metaphorical hearts appeared where one would expect to see eyes. The coral elemental went from blue to a distinct hue of pink, and was it just Terminos' imagination or did Thompho look...bashful? The two exchanged words in their respective tongues of happen anytime and anywhere. Love is beautiful and can within a few inches of each other.
Unaware that they were about to set one of the most epic tales of starcrossed lovers that the planes his mind and glared at the warlock, as if blaming him for the recent episode. The royal guard, not used to this level of silliness, shook the cobwebs of confusion from him as the water around him dropped in temperature and turned to ice. Regardless, the naga was slow to act, a mistake that would come back to haunt had ever witnessed into motion, Terminos and Tidus banished their minions in a moment of shared disgust. Amphibious eyes widening in shock and anger, Tidus turned and twisted, using his tremendous strength to break of his chest but still standing and concentrating intently, communing with the elements and receiving their aid.
His orbs alighted on the figure of Gorakinos, bleeding heavily from where he'd pulled the spear of ice out anything else a board was slammed over his head. The naga hissed in serpentine displeasure, but before he could do the ice before it could trap him and frantically searching for the source of his predicament. Blinking, Tidus turned and looked behind him just in time to see Maggotface, who'd used the earlier distraction to sneak around approaching his face before a plated gauntlet made impact and he fell unconscious. Bleary-eyed, the naga was just able to discern the shape of a rapidly approaching fist and had to settle for a hacking cough of victory instead.
Maggotface tried to laugh in triumph, but he choked on the water him, slam a shield over his head, and this was quickly followed by the blunt side of the warrior's blade. He raised his sword and prepared to finish the mighty royal guard once a restoration spell to heal his wounds, he tilted his head inquisitively, asking Maggotface if he understood. Pointing at the naga, the empty room around them, and then Gorakinos who was in the middle of casting in thought, before nodding his head in the affirmative. The Forsaken warrior looked at the warlock long and hard, deep and for all, but Terminos shook his head in the negative.
Terminos sighed in relief, but his comfort was short-lived as Maggotface swam over to shaking in exasperation, opened his mouth and yelled. The warlock stared for a full minute but then, fists what he was saying. Even underwater, it was clear Gorakinos and offered the orc his sword to deliver the lethal blow. Also within the broken frame of the ship, with a scuba diving mask and snorkel swim by.
There was no way she had just seen a tauren impossible. It was simply a naga sorceress blinked in disbelief. Those were her last thoughts before a hand covered her mouth and a dagger time to scream. She didn't even have the dead naga off his blade, taking special care not to spill blood, and sheathed the knife.
The tauren with a scuba diving mask over his face and a snorkel in his mouth casually pushed the size of a sword was plunged into her heart, killing her. He had many more targets to eliminate if he wanted to guarantee that his quarry reached land again in one piece that Tidus Wavecrest was accommodating the Freelancers' search for the chest. Later and back on the surface, it would be an understatement to say WILL TAKE GREAT SATISFACTION FROM BEYOND KNOWING THAT WHEN WE NAGA RETAKE THE SURFACE WORLD YOUR INSIGNIFICANT RACES WILL BE AMONG THE FIRST TO GO!" "I'LL NEVER TALK, YOU ACCURSED LAND DWELLERS! I LIVE ONLY FOR EMPRESS AZSHARA, SHE WHO IS LIGHT OF LIGHTS! I DO NOT FEAR DEATH AND without being ambushed, and his job would be much easier if the scent of death wasn't carried in the water.
Gorakinos and Terminos, undismayed by the naga's recalcitrance, exchanged a from his traveling companions and spoke the words that would unleash an unfathomable horror upon the royal guard. As one, they turned to look at Maggotface who was celebrating their victory with a bottle he'd managed to hide occasion calls for a song?" "Hey Mafo, don't you think the cunning, devious look, their thoughts the same for once. "Yeah, I think a song would thou-ousand a-a-and e-eleven bottttttles of gro-o-o-og! Ta-a-ake *hic* one down, pass it around, o-o-"
"Good *hiccup* call! O-one hu-u-ndred thou-ousand a-a-and e-eleven bottles of...*hic* grog on the wall, one hu-u-ndred THE SHIP'S CARGO HOLD! JUST PLEASE CEASE THIS INSUFFERABLE SINGING!!!" "ENOUGH! ENOUGH! I SUBMIT! I'LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED TO be nice right about now." Although it took some 'persuasion' on Maggotface's part, the the naga did and carted off most of its contents. Apparently an expedition of dwarfs got to the sunken ship before agreed to entertain the crowds for a bit in a cage match.
Asking around in Gadgetzan yielded more information that was, thankfully, free after Maggotface naga finally told us what he knew. His opponent was the most vicious, terrifying, beastly Maggotface's nonexistent jaw, and the undead warrior smashed it -- rather excessively, I might add -- into dozens of bits and pieces. It shot lasers from its cute beady eyes! Fortunately, its AI was thrown for a loop when the mechanical critter went for Bronzebeard, famous dwarf archaeologist of the Explorer's League. Anyway, the expedition was headed by none other than Brann mechanical squirrel I have ever seen.
He was traveling to Silithus to do research on the sealed city of Ahn'Qiraj, so the three of but I have the sinking suspicion that my efforts will be in vain. I'm keeping an eye on Mafo to make sure he doesn't buy any booze, time in the sun recently. ...I think I've spent too much us will be making the journey to that wasteland starting tomorrow after we've restocked on supplies. I imagined a talking turtle matters much either.
The smell isn't helping and rotting corpses don't go very well together. As much as I _enjoy_ Maggotface and Terminos' company, heat who rhapsodized about love. Noktog is the only one who seems happy about the temperature and remains Blasted demon.
Blasted sun. irritatingly cheerful, commenting on how much it feels like home right now. Blasted hallucinogenic Uh-oh... Blasted-...wait, hallucinogenic cactus? a devilsaur snuck up behind us and swallowed Maggotface and his steed in one bite. We finally reached Un'goro Crater this morning, and we didn't get more than a few miles before cactus.
How anything that large can be almost immediately spat him and his warhorse back out. Fortunately, Maggotface is long past his expiration date, and the devilsaur hiding a stash of alcohol behind his skeletal warhorse's ribcage. The sound of glass breaking revealed that yes, Mafo has been so stealthy eludes me. He wept over the shattered remains of glass and stopped his singing.
He has _not_, however, notwithstanding, looks a bit irritated. Even Terminos, 'Will of the Forsaken' has been downcast the rest of the day. I'm really looking forward to the turn, attacked by naga, saving various party members from digestion, and putting up with off-key drinking songs. I signed up for gold and maybe a little bit of glory, not being outnegotiated by goblins at every (Maggotface and Terminos vetoed my suggestion, darn them), the occupants of Valor's Rest greeted us as we entered Silithus.
After a long journey across the vast wilds of Un'goro Crater and a missed chance to enjoy the region's legendary hotsprings end of this contract. The night elves were less than pleased to deal with Forsaken, but they didn't that we achieve our purpose quickly. Looking around this wasteland, I can only hope this desert more twisted and terrible than the last Forsaken fashion show. There is something...ominously amiss about these lands, and I sense a shadow over begrudge our presence and even gave us lodging and directions to Cenarion Hold.
The arrival of the three mercenaries into the Cenarion Circle's largest fortified outpost in of every occupant on them and, with his keen orcish senses, noted the dark mutterings and invectives quietly hurled at them. As Gorakinos lead his two traveling companions up the rounded, sloped path to Cenarion Hold, he felt what seemed to be the eyes of depression settling upon him. "A pity," Gorakinos spoke, an air the hostile wastes of Silithus did not go unnoticed or unremarked upon. "I had heard that the Cenarion Circle possessed vision and a willingness to overlook any noble-hearted person and judge according to character, not race.
I had heard that theirs was a group willing to work with my hopes appear to have been in vain. I had heard and come to expect much, but the mistakes of the past and focus on the future of this world. The murder of Cenarius is still held against us, it seems, and the many suffer for the rest? I fear that the conflict between our peoples has no end near in sight if I am not misreading the signs before me." If the druids of the Cenarion Circle, the most open-minded and clear-sighted of the night elven race, cannot let go of past hatreds, what hope is there for see the greenskin continue in his ignorance, decided that they'd all be better off if he corrected this false presumption.
Terminos, hearing the orc's monologue, sighed from sheer exhaustion at the stupidity of his partners and, much as he would like to the crimes of the few, no matter the legendary Hellscream's great act of redemption. "Gorakinos...you _do_ know that Maggotface goes around slaughtering druids in his free time and that he regularly nearly sober undead warrior who was jeering at the outpost's guards and making menacing motions with his sword. The orc halted his mount in midstride, blinked, and turned around to look behind him, gazing at the amazingly make out included references to "undead", "filth", "vermin", and "spawn of a necromancer with only an associate's degree in the dark arts!". Come to think of it, most of the eyes were focused on the Wildheart cowled Forsaken, and almost all the insults he could makes the Cenarion Circle's list of people they most want a treant to step on, right?"
"...No, Terminos, I did not know the situation to me. "Thank you for the explaining for Bronzebeard while I have a 'chat' with Mafo?" Why...why don't you go on ahead and start asking around that," he muttered tersely. The warlock, grinning snidely, was for once he begrudgingly descended down the Cenarion Hold's slope.
"Sstupid orc," Maggotface grumbled, walking alongside his mount as he technically outranked the shaman he didn't want those petty night elves to have the satisfaction of seeing Freelancers fight amongst themselves. Gorakinos had told him in no uncertain terms that it might be for the best if he stayed clear of the druids, and while all too happy to oblige. Pathetic purple-skins, just because they used to be immortal and have a and their own sincerity and good-intentions that it made the Forsaken warrior sick. Those arrogant, self-righteous druids were the worst of the lot too, so sure of themselves tasted pretty good too, particularly when thrown into a stew brewed by one of those nearly as worthless trolls.
Given the circumstances, really, who could blame him for rending every night elf druid he saw in twain? Night elves legendary empire they thought they were better than everyone else. Hm...stew... reflexive action born from his many years of humanity that he'd not yet completely cast off. Thoughts having moved from irritation to merciless slaughter to food and drink, Maggotface felt his stomach rumble, a reasons completely BEYOND HIS UNDERSTANDING neither Gorakinos nor Terminos had trusted him with the group's travel rations. He reached for the pack on his mount only to curse a moment later, belatedly remembering that for
"Stupid partnersssz," the undead fighter slurred angrily, his succubus who would make a _great_ addition to their party in his opinion), and...um, other evil stuff! The Forsaken would probably lethally poison the food if he had the chance. What right did they have to call him untrustworthy? Terminos was a warlock, for Sylvanas' sake! Always going around muttering dark incantations, communing with demons (though, much to Maggotface's chagrin, rarely could really entrust food to someone like that! Hmph, well, next time he saw them he'd- And as for Gorakinos...he was the only one among them who actually needed to eat! Like you clenching his right fist in wrath. "You seem a with, traveler?"
Anything I can help a pandaren wearing a black robe and bamboo hat standing a few yards in front of him. Startled at the deep, grizzly voice, Maggotface looked up and straight into the furry and seemingly jovial face of little parched. The giant ursine Honeybrew, traveler. "The name's Sinjo acquaintance, honorable...?"
Pleased to make your waved affably. "Mafo Jushilit," the Forsaken answered with a scowl, the large, carried on the pandaren's back and the unmistakable odor of strong, rich alcohol. This was soon forgotten, however, as Maggotface's attention was quickly drawn to the wooden keg eyesight, the pandaren grinned. Noticing the direction of Mafo's fuzzy bear's cuteness and cheerful nature vexing him.
"Ah, a fellow connoisseur of fine ale, I see! Surely and learn each other's stories. Come, let us share a drink and sitting down, simultaneously drawing two wooden mugs from the recesses of his pockets. A toast to our new friendship, I say!" Sinjo exclaimed excitedly, setting down his keg this meeting was fated by the ancestors, honorable Mafo Jushilit. He offered one to Maggotface ale, "I think this could be the start of a be-a-a-utiful friendship."
"You knowsh, Sinjo..." Maggotface commented as the pandaren filled the Forsaken's mug with at the dwarf below him and wondering what would go wrong next. "You mean to tell me...that Brann Bronzebeard is _missing_?" Gorakinos growled, scowling unhappily who immediately accepted. The druids had, after some prodding, told Terminos that the target of their search had set up a camp in southern Silithus a while back, and the two of the shaman and warlock to no end. They were, of course, wrong, and this displeased Glibb the monkey who'd decided that the imp was a neat toy.
Maggotface was beyond caring at the moment, and Noktog was busy running away from them had grabbed the once again inebriated Maggotface and ridden to the encampment as quickly as they could, hoping that their mission might finally be near its end. "Yep," Rutgar Glyphshaper replied gruffly, unfazed by to Silithus, and if this green savage thought he could be intimidated so easily...well, he had another thing coming to him. He'd seen scarier things during his many years in the Explorer's Guild, many of them only a few days ride away since coming sense in his head. "That dwarf ain't got any the unhappy orc looming above him.
He's the type o' person that, if he saw a green glowing portal oo't in you back using the Explorer's Guild's bank account at Ironforge, forget o'bout it. What's it to you, though? If Brann owes you money and said he'd pay have no obligation to honor his debts beyond traveling expenses. Much as the Guild is proud o' its most famous member, they the middle of nowhere, he'd walk through it just to see where it leads. Trust me, you did not w'ont to be anywhere near Ironforge the last time and tried very hard to resist the urge to bash his head against a rock.
Gorakinos, patience terribly frayed by his ordeals of the past couple days, took a deep breath stop hovering ominously in the background and carry on their line of inquiry. Fortunately, before he could say or do something he might regret, Terminos decided to Brann tried to convince High Explorer Magellas to cover his bar tabs." "Not at all," the warlock said smoothly albeit a bit with their love of ale ranked particularly low in his mind. While he considered nearly all the living to be fools and idiots, dwarves as their gnomish cousins, though.
At least they weren't nearly as annoying distastefully, displeased at having to deal with a dwarf. "Truth be told, we're looking to salvage heard that Bronzebeard managed to salvage some of the ship's contents. Her brother was a passenger on the unfortunate Morning Song, and we Stormwind crest was among the recovered goods, would you?" You wouldn't happen to know if a chest with a a package for our client.
"Get your dirty hands off me, you filthy ape!" Noktog shouted as Glibb finally caught the two. Everyone ignored the thought for a minute. Rutgar scratched his beard and wily imp and spun the demon around, simian eyes alight with mischief and delight. While he didn't trust these mercenaries, anybody crazy enough to travel to this wasteland in search of someone's missing luggage earned vaguely remember something like 'hat.
"Hm...yeah, now that yo' mention it, I onto the chest because the locking mechanism resisted his best o'fforts to pick it. Brann sent most of the retrieved items to Theramore to be sorted th'ough, but he held a few points in his book, and telling the truth probably wouldn't make things any worse than they already were. He wanted to give it another couple tries hope return to him. Terminos felt the first stirrings of here, then?"
"So the chest is when he had the spare time." "Nope," the dwarf answered curtly, sending the Forsaken plunging ago for supplies and made off with 'hit. "Those crazy Twilight Cultists raided our camp a while in one of their bases somewhere. Assuming they haven't destroyed it, it's probably lying down into the depths of despair again.
You're welcome to search for it and make the world a better place by bashing in some good deal in Ratchet." You'd have better luck finding o' and briefly contemplating what a deep-fried dwarf might taste like. "Ah, bu-but Freelancers never quitsh!" Maggotface slurred, joining the conversation himself cultist heads, but it's probably more trouble than it's worth, in my not so humble opinion. "We'sz have ah rep-o-tashion but, sighing, nodded his head in reluctant agreement.
"And I'm not a Freelancer," Terminos muttered under his breath to return to Orgrimmar empty-handed. After coming this far he didn't want to up'olds!" Gorakinos, having recollected some of his composure, tossed a information. "Thanks for the useful to us.
Spirits willing, it will prove gold coin Rutgar's way and thanked him. And now, we will be ANY PART OF YOUR MONKEY BUSINESS!" "LET ME GO ALREADY! I DON'T WANT despite his small stature, chuckled from sadistic amusement. Terminos, wondering once again how Noktog could speak so loudly on our way."
"But before we go, I need to rescue my imp," he disgruntled imp from Glibb's hairy paws, and the mercenaries continued on their way. And...it's not worth saying how long they waited, but _eventually_ Terminos did rescue his Kilrogg and then Gorakinos who was projecting his vision over the Twilight's Hammer camps through the ability of Far Sight. "What'sssshhh takingsh you sho long?" Maggotface questioned impatiently, gazing first at Terminos who was seeing the world through his Eye of said, not really seeming in any hurry to do so. A giant crystal stood forebodingly over them, providing scant leaned against his skeletal warhorse.
Not getting an answer, he sighed and you did in Ashenvale, aren't you?" "You'zsh spying on the female druidsh bathhouse likesh protection from the sand storm raging across Silithus. "That was an accident!" Gorakinos protested, hastily returning his vision to local female night elves and dryads were performing a cleansing ceremony at that pond!" "I was trying to pinpoint a group of satyrs, and it was pure coincidence that the irately, feeling a headache coming on.
"Keep your lecherous adventures to yourselves," Terminos ordered his body and approaching the Forsaken warrior with clear anger. "I could care less and have the much more important task of late. "You're too have." We already locating that accursed parcel before the cultists detect our scryings."
As one, the three Freelancers drew their weapons and them from behind, causing their mounts to flee in a panic. They were therefore rather surprised when a wave of raw elemental power assaulted returned fire at the first of the cultists he saw with a blast of primal energy from the earth. Coughing up sand from where he'd fallen, Gorakinos rolled back onto his feet and, calling upon the elements for aid, turned in the direction of the voice. For the second time that day, he was again surprised when his Earthshock bounced _off_ its own Shadowbolts a bitter pill to swallow.
A similar fate befell Terminos who found his Forsaken launched himself at the cultists with his sword. Within moments only Maggotface was left standing, and the beleaguered target and flew back at him, knocking him to the ground and into unconsciousness. "EN TARO ADUN!" the fearless warrior screamed, kicking, punching, and slicing his way through his hangovers, laughed at the biting sting of their own melee weapons, and filled their hearts with terror. Mafo shrugged off their sleep spells, ignored their Shadow Words which could not begin to compare to one of Forsaken was in his element.
On land, surrounded by enemies, the his attackers whose magic spells did not protect them from cold metal. There was no water to slow him down, and his instincts honed by years of fighting a safe distance made a gesture and imprisoned his legs in a block of ice. He was tireless and unstoppable...at least until a cultist in Dreadmist who'd been watching everything from him were running away now that they held the advantage. As the Forsaken hissed angrily, he briefly wondered why the cultists near that not even undeath and pandaren brew could rob him off practically sang to him.
A large and growing shadow directed his attention upward, and a heavy, the rock landed on and pinned him the ground. "Aw shucks," Maggotface chimed, uttering a cry of pain as and the warrior finally joined his comatose comrades in defeat. One of the cultists launched a last shadow spell for good measure, magically summoned boulder that was rapidly approaching answered his question. "Heh, works every time," the Dreadmist-clad human spoke and it's amazing what you can accomplish.
"Combine a little misdirection with the element of surprise, the smile on his face as if waiting for something. I'm such a brilliant evil overlord." He grinned and held up, evidently the leader of this group. A moment passed and then another moment, and the edges over this before. "Guys and gals, we've been evil overlord, _you_ respond with what?"
When _I_ say that I'm a brilliant of the grin turned into a dangerous frown. An embarrassed silence met this statement as the other cultists helped their injured brethren to their feet and attempted to heal their wounds with magic, but finally disappearing now that his ego had been stroked. "_Much_ better," Vyral the Vile said, his ominous expression bind the prisoners and bring them to our cave's cell. "Now that my awesome, unsurpassed intellect has led us to victory, and with very little enthusiasm they replied, "ALL HAIL VYRAL THE VILE, THE BEST EVIL OVERLORD THIS SIDE OF KALIMDOR! HE'S PURE EVIL GENIUS!"
They don't appear to be agents of the Cenarion Circle, and the Old Gods by killing them and their mounts on our alters. After we've interrogated them, we can have a good old-fashioned, traditional sacrifice to near us. As for-...there's a demon I'm interested in learning why they were scrying our bases. Everyone, on your guard!" he commanded, nose wrinkling quick look around him, decided discretion was the better part of valor and ran for his demonic life.
Realizing that he'd been detected, Noktog sprang out from behind the small rock he'd been hiding behind and, taking a yooouu la-a-ater ma-aster!..May-ay-ay-ay-be!" "I-I-I-I'll beee-e-e ba-a-ack to sa-a-a-ave in distaste at the alien presence. "After that imp!" Vyral ordered three underlings who immediately they'll be! As for the rest of you, return to base!" "The less contaminated this world is when the Old Gods return the more pleased disappeared into the sand storm with their wounded and prisoners in tow.
With that, the representatives of the Twilight's Hammer rolled the stone off Maggotface and took off after the surprisingly quick demon. "Hm? I wonder if trouble is brewing," Sinjo Honeybrew commented as he set a large bamboo keg he'd just dug out of the sand on was replaced with his usual merry demeanor when he recognized the summoned creature as one of Mafo's traveling companions. Seeing a rapidly approaching imp, his eyes briefly narrowed and an unreadable but vaguely threatening look crossed his features, but it you, demon?!" "Oi! What troubles the ground near his campground and turned to face the source of the plea with a curious expression on his black and white furry face.
Hearing what sounded like a friendly voice, Noktog immediately veered towards it and was Master, Gora, and Maggotface are in *hack* trouble!" "Twilight Cultists *gasp* ambushed us! *wheeze* Only I *cough* escaped! concern as heard this. The pandaren's face filled with standing in front of Sinjo and panting heavily within a few moments. "Friend Mafo is in danger? Truly this is troubling news fine ale demand nothing less.
The bonds of comradeship we forged over purpose, but first a drink is in order. I shall dedicate my mind and body to this to which the only reaction can be a rescue attempt. Noktog looked on confused as the pandaren reverently removed the keg's lid you want to take the time to enjoy a mug of beer? As much as I approve of your utter callousness and willingness to indulge yourself at the expense of others, WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY?!!" "Your friend is in the clutches of a group of crazy cultists who might kill him at any moment or commit other unspeakable (at least if you don't want to go above a PG-13 rating) acts, and mirthfully.
Sinjo laughed and gently stirred the liquid contents around with his traveling staff. "Not at all, as this-" He gestured at the keg. I'm actually a connoisseur, and letting a masterpiece such a crime against art. "-go to waste would be demon.
This is my specialty Azeroth in a Cup recipe, and it has taken me spent traveling the world and learning how to create the alcoholic beverages of each race. My childhood was spent in Pandaria sampling ale from all over the world, and my youth was and improvement, but I was still merely a journeyman plying and learning his trade. Only then did I dare to start devising my own recipes instead of mere imitation the better part of my life to brew this work in progress. This keg, however, will mark my elevation to puzzlement as the pandaren continued his enthusiastic lecture.
The imp's eyes widened more and more from sheer refreshing bitterness of Forsaken sake, even the invigorating saltiness of murloc , and so many more recipes are artfully combined in such a way that they complement and enhance each other in Azeroth in a Cup. "The rich heritage of dwarf ale, the potency of orc liquor, the subtlety of elfin wine, the refreshing taste of tauren tea, the innovativeness of human beer, the primality of troll concoctions, the inventiveness of gnome breweries, the the rank of a true master." I scoured all of Azeroth for the proper ingredients, from Stratholme to Stranglethorn, over and under the Maelstrom, across the Broken Isles, through the icy wastes of Northrend, down from taste the result of my labor. Now, at long last, I have returned to understand why even his rescue must be postponed for this."
As a fellow admirer of drink, I'm sure friend Mafo can Winterspring, and to Silithus where, after an entire week spent carefully mixing the brew together I buried it in the burning desert sands to ferment for over a year. Pulling his staff out of the keg's contents, Sinjo withdrew a drinking mug from one of his pockets and, almost religiously, began to lower cup, though, tragedy struck. Before he could fill the cultists shouted, having finally caught up with the imp. "There he is! Kill him!" one of the three Twilight it into the keg, inhaling the strong, alcoholic fumes wafting up from the brew with a blissful smile on his furry face.
The pursuers extended their arms and, channeling the primal elemental forces of the struck the keg instead, penetrating the wooden barrel and breaking it open. Panicked, Noktog leapt out of the way, and the projectiles narrowly missed him and witnessed the destruction of his masterpiece. Time slowed down for Sinjo as he world, launched a hail of stone and ice at the demon. The rich, beautifully blended alcoholic liquid that had taken him years to brew gushed forth knees in abject misery, unashamed of the tears that streamed down his black and white face.
Feeling as if he had just been stabbed in the heart, the brewmaster fell on his hands and across the haunted desert and froze the three cultists where they stood. He screamed once, a primal cry of utter despair and overpowering grief that reverberated onto the desert sands and quickly seeped into the mysterious depths of ancient Silithus. Not running when they had the chance would another emotion rushed to the surface: rage. The sorrow receded into the recesses of Sinjo's mind as any he had ever felt before.
Searing, indescribable rage and passionate anger unlike prove to be a mistake for them. It consumed his being, intoxicating him with a fervent madness that few if any of the beverages he'd sampled had ever matched, and keep his distance. Noktog wisely decided to Vile sat at his crystalline desk in his private quarters and caught up on his reading. Deep within the dark, winding passages of the cave known to some as Twilight's Run, Vyral the the enraged pandaren brewmaster turned eyes filled with the unmistakable desire for revenge on the cultists and uttered a mighty, terrifying warcry.
On his bookshelf were several titles, including the newest edition of the Twilight Lexicon, "How I Became the Queen- of the Universe and Lived to Tell About It" by Sarah Kerrigan the Queen of Blades, Gul'dan's "You Cannot Be Denied: Self-Help for the Aspiring Evil-Doer", "This is Why I Ended it All: An Autobiography" by Teron Gorefiend, from one of the Twilight's spies in Ironforge, and his Dreadmist Mask did nothing to hide his scowl. At the moment, though, the cult leader was skimming through a copy of Brann Bronzebeard's "Lands of Mystery" he'd gotten he was holding in his hands as if he could somehow magically make the words change. "This is an OUTRAGE! An utter, incomprehensible outrage!" the evil overlord exclaimed angrily, glaring at the text Onyxia's "Fashion: Be Bad but Look Good!", and Peter Anspach's "Evil Overlord List" among other scrolls and tomes -- some of which even glowed in the dark and spoke in alien, maddening tongues when people weren't looking -- and, judging by their apparent state of well-worn use, it was obvious that they were read very often. Granted, he _could_ if he really wanted to but it would only affect this version, and that was totally beside the point anyway! "How DARE Bronzebeard include Twilight Lord Everun and Highlord Demitrian in breath and continued reading through the guidebook.
Forcing himself to calm down, Vyral took a deep minute to highlight the passage on Crystalsong Forest and inscribe the words "Investigate this later!" on the page. He marked a few entries of interest as he perused the sections on the South Seas and Northrend, pausing a his description of Silithus but EXCLUDE me, the great and cunning Vyral the Vile?! If you weren't missing again, I'd make sure you drowned in the Abyssal Maw you adventuring alcoholic dwarven pest!" He took special care to pay close attention to the chapter on civilizations and remember any details he could possibly use later for recruiting, although himself from breaking out in laughter. When he reached "Adventures", however, Vyral couldn't stop remarked skeptically, chuckling at the sheer absurdity of the idea.
"Hahaha! A fel-sworn tauren runemaster! As if!" Vyral the Vile he doubted if the Twilight's Hammer started a chapter on Northrend that they'd have a lot of luck converting the magnataur to their cause. "That's about as likely as him by the neck from behind and lifted him out of his chair. Before the cult leader could fully register the words, a large, hairy hand grabbed although he could still feel the rest of his body, he suddenly couldn't move anything above his head. Five strong fingers simultaneously slammed into his back, striking what Vyral could only guess were esoteric pressure points because, a tauren rogue!"
"Don't worry," the large, horned figure spoke in and won't even remember this encounter. "Assuming you cooperate, you'll regain full movement of course. _Assuming_ you cooperate, a voice that was less than reassuring. If you don't...well, I know of his mind made notes.
Vyral shivered fearfully while a detached portion impressive menacing inflection. That was a pretty other methods of interrogation." He'd have to try it out on his assailant had done to his body was also affecting his ability to cast spells. Of course, he would have to get out of this predicament first, and whatever his his skin..."What *gulp* do you want to know?"
There appeared to be only one way to save own underlings one of these days. With what could've been a smirk on his face, the tauren rogue answered, "Tell me...you wouldn't happen to know the whereabouts of a chest push back the advancing qiraji armies who sought -- and, according to some, still seek behind their walls -- to bring the entire world under the domination of their dark god. Staghelm's Point was an ancient tower of night elven design, dating back to the War of the Shifting Sands over a thousand years ago when the night elves allied with the dragonflights to thousand years was a terribly long time and the tower soon passed out of memory, forgotten by all but its lone occupant and the draconic guardians who ensured that she maintained her long, lonely vigil. It had originally been built to stand vigil over the silent sands of Silithus and warn should the ancient evils that lay buried beneath them ever stir again, but even for the formerly immortal night elves one you stole from the Bronzebeard Encampment a couple days ago, would you? It should have a Stormwind crest affixed to it..."
Today, observing the events that would soon take place below, Ralo'shan the Eternal Watcher, herald for was holding up and did a double-take at what he saw. Twilight Geolord S'kuj peered with his right eye through the telescope he he shook his head and started cursing. Troll face rapidly becoming an image of astonishment, a new age, would laugh uproariously for the first time in hundreds of years. "Spirits, mon, dis not _haigh_ many times we say no they never give up..." muttered the troll's armored companion, dwarven Twilight Enforcer Dirk Zincglow.
"What's thai matter this time, S'kuj? The Argent Dawn isn't on ano'der recruitment drive, are they? Honestly, no matter Twilight's Hammer's method of recruitment. "Ai moost say, I much pre'her the be good." We find _talented_ individuals -- sanity's optional, ah we depart. If thay say nay, so they can't use their toolents against us.
If they're _exceptionally talented_ and say no, we kill them course! -- and ask them politely once. Aither way, they never hear from us again! Ha!" Dirk started laughing as if he'd just said the funniest thing in the world, which in his opinion was obviously distant but rapidly approaching ball of black and white fur and bamboo. Is that all?" Dirk spoke calmly, sounding disappointed at the sight of the coming to attack us. "Ait's only oh silly pandaren true, but S'kuj whose sense of humor belonged in the category called everyone but Dirk Zincglow only sighed, exasperated, and numbly handed over the telescope to the dwarf's curious hands.
What ey you so his mind by the dwarf's complete obliviousness to the danger they were in. S'kuj hissed contemptuously, low esteem he held the young races in further validated in the Old Gods were liberated and returned the world to primeval, elemental chaos and fury. Honestly, it was because of ignorance like this that he was looking forward to the day worried about? "Ju are a pandaren brewmaster? Da only hope we have is to retreat to da cave and hit 'im wid everything we got at once."
Doncha know that da goblins place better odds on a last-stand against an army of demons d'an an army of just about anything versus a troll was over such a seemingly insignificant threat. Dirk shook his head, amused at how worried the fool, Dirk. "Oh c'mon, S'kuj! Ya know that thoose goblins rig thai odds anyway, and besides! He's indicated that the armored dwarf should look through the telescope again. Silently, the wizened troll gestured back in the direction of the pandaren and of a pair of sentries upside-down and buried up to their waists in the sand.
Dirk did, and in addition to the sight of a snarling, enraged pandaren saw the battered bodies only one ma-...er, panda! The Cult's patrools should take care o'im in no time!" "Big deal," the Enforcer the same thang t'or boys before. "Ah've seen plenty o' night elf hunters do encounters the bulk of our forces he's going down." That still doesn't change thai fact that once the panda muttered sarcastically.
As one, the troll and dwarf slowly turned and gazed quietly at the metal-clad figure that had them from hearing his screams of pain. Fortunately the man's present state of unconsciousness prevented and Dirk sighed. S'kuj raised an eyebrow, been violently tossed through the air and landed with many unpleasant cracking sounds behind them. "A'kay, maybe we do have a _wee_ bit a clan of Warchief Doomhammer's Horde.
The Twilight's Hammer was once the name of a fanatical frenzy that they were harbingers of apocalyptic doom. Led by the ogre magi Cho'gall, its members had believed with o' a problem on our hands..." Ironically enough, doom found them first when they aided the orc warlock Gul'dan and sailed with sought to release the Old Gods of Azeroth from their Titan-created prisons and return the world to its Pre-Ordering state. Why the cult took its name from Cho'gall's destructive ambitions was a mystery, but they too shared the clan's dark vision and all of Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms.
Their numbers were legion, with cells stretching across him in his fatal attempt to claim the power of the Dark Titan Sargeras. Their resources were incalculable, possessing some of the practically every race in the world and fused them into a single purpose. Their power was unquestionable, a dream that encompassed the arcane and the divine and Twilight's Hammer... They were the best minds in Azeroth and untold treasures.
...and Sinjo Honeybrew was knocking them silly faster than defenses faster than a Thunder Lizard stampede through just about anything, cupped his hands to his mouth and issued new orders. One of the smarter Twilight Geolords, seeing the rapidly approaching whirlwind of black and white furry violence that was tearing through their as a wooden staff slammed across the front of his face, breaking his nose and sending him plunging headfirst into unconsciousness. "Summon reinforcements! The Abyssal Council will punish us severely if we let ourselves be defe-ack!" he finished on a pain-filled note a cloth quartermaster accepts donations of runecloth. His command, though, was heard and frantically obeyed Hammer sent a call for help directly to their superiors.
Crystals glowed and the barriers between dimensions weakened as the Twilight's the fiery creature roared with the full fury of flame. A flash of light heralded the arrival of the first templar, and with the speed of the desperate. Words erupted where there was no mouth, searing the-" "Who dares disturb waters of Bloodvenom Falls, extinguishing the elemental and prematurely ending its tenure on this plane.
A stream of a brown alcoholic beverage spewed forth from Sinjo's mouth with more force than the and penetrating the minds of all nearby. For just a moment, outlined by the sun and surrounded by the devastation and chaotic magics left in his wake, a dim green a series of interlocking but separate planes. When the Titans ordered the ancient world, they created life guided and enhanced by the nurturing energies of the Well of Eternity. Azeroth became the home for countless species of plants and animals, a panorama of glow seemed to briefly outline the pandaren's figure, and if one listened _very_ closely they might have heard a single word.
The Emerald Dream existed as a hidden paradise, a realm of dreams and visions and primordial splendor untouched by the races of Gods, elemental creatures of earth, air, fire, and water. To the Elemental Plane went the defeated partisans of the Old influence and interfere with the evolution of the Titan's ordered world... There they would remain for the rest of eternity, no longer able to Azeroth that would forever serve as a monument to what the world could've been and perhaps could still yet become. ...or so the plan could not from their prison and breached the walls separating the planes.
Time passed, and, ironically, the races of the new world did what the elementals stretched and an elemental with the power and mind to could lead an army into Azeroth and launch an invasion. Some sought knowledge, others power, but whatever the motivation the oftentimes disastrous consequences left behind spaces where the fabric of reality was had been. The Windreaver was one pair of eyes could be discerned, the celestial general spoke no words to herald his arrival. Physical form a nearly intangible cyclone wreathed with effulgent bolts of lightning in whose storm a balefully glowing bottomless as the ocean, and even Therazane's precocious children, to him language was an imperfect instrument he did not use.
Unlike Ragnaros' servants whose brilliance was only matched by their overwhelming desire to consume, Neptulon's minions with their minds as deep and such elemental. The roar of the gale was all he needed to communicate, and there was no misunderstanding his intentions as he Windreaver. He was the that only fools reckoned with. He was a force of nature coalesced in the rocky, charred northwest corner of Silithus with a legion of lesser elementals under his command.
And he was completely unaware of the role day's drama, but tomorrow...well, tomorrow would be a very different story indeed. Granted, that was mostly because he didn't have a role to play in the Run had only increased with the passage of time. The cries of pain and screams of panic emanating from Twilight's he would play in the day's drama. "Not in the face! the Abyssal Counci-"
"Feel the wrath of Duke of Clubs!" "Quickly! Summon the Not in the face!" "Sure thi-...you fool! We're an evil cult, not a referred to as the Queen of Hearts before!" "You sure? I know I've heard Princess Myzrael wake up from this nightmare!"
"Someone please, pinch me so I can card game! There is no Duke of Clubs!" The authoritative command rang across the battlefield, rampage long enough to seek out the source of the voice that had penetrated his enraged mind. The fighting stopped, the fleeing halted their retreats, the unconscious remained immobile, and even Sinjo Honeybrew ceased his destructive robed figure of Vyral the Vile emerged theatrically from the shadows with graceful, confident steps. The seconds felt like minutes as all eyes turned to the mouth of the cave where the ruthlessly demanding and quickly receiving silence.
"This...is an embarrassment!" he decried, panda? If most of you didn't need medical treatment already I'd make sure you did myself! You lot are pathetic!" "The Twilight's Hammer is a dark cabal of the blackest hearts this world has to offer, and yet we're powerless to stop one overgrown with the pandaren. The evil overlord locked gazes scolding his underlings. "You will rue the day you dared raise your furry fists against us," he and _then_ learning that his legions of followers were being utterly trounced by a single intruder...well, needless to say, Vyral the Vile was not in a good mood.
After waking up in his chair with a splitting headache, an ache that felt like a boulder had slammed into his back, and no memory of when he'd fallen asleep, want you to suffer as only the tortured souls of the damned know how to describe. "Normally I'd be sporting and offer you the chance to say a few last words, but I vowed direly, bloodshot eyes saturated with anger within the darkness of his hood. Whoever you are and wherever you came from, witness heavens and launched a sphere of writhing shadows into the air. With an agonized, ecstatic shout, Vyral raised his head and arms to the soared towards the mysterious, humming crystals of all shapes and sizes scattered around the camp.
It traveled several yards before shattering with an earsplitting crackle into dozens of needlelike slivers that the true power of the Twilight's Hammer!" Some had been carved and erected as the centerpiece of summoning stations, others still floated unchanged and when the cultists could see and hear again they were flanked by elementals of all types and ranks. The camp was enveloped by pure white light and an overpowering whine as the barriers between dimensions were torn to shreds, gazed at the stolid brewmaster. Vyral the Vile grinned triumphantly as he and unharnessed above the ground, but when the dark magic reached them they simultaneously flashed.
"On second thought, I believe I can pandaren?" So...any last words, an even icier smile on his ursine face. "Just four," Sinjo Honeybrew spoke with chilling calm and afford to be charitable after all. He straightened and, with a growl, slammed his staff dead center in
Deification. Congratulations. front of him and, suddenly, there were three of him. You are the Cenarion away where he was watching the carnage unfold. "Note to self," Noktog muttered quietly from a safe distance goblins nearby, put your money on the bear." A thought occurred to him.
"If there's ever a battle between a pandaren brewmaster and anything else and there are Circle's new god. "Unless the anything else is stopped rattling, the deafening battle cry having swept over the demon with more force and power than an earthquake. It was over a minute before the imp could hear his own voice again and another minute before his body the side ponderingly and came to a decision. Recovering from the shocks, Noktog tilted his head to an army of wisps."
"Scratch that," the imp said the panda." "Always bet on upside down and chained to a rock wall. It was with relief that Gorakinos awakened to find himself quickly, changing his mind. The very fact that he had woken up (and still wearing his clothes to boot, a definite plus in the minds of what was to the orc a distressingly looked pretty good right now.
Even Orgrimmar with its crowds and noise of gro-o-og on sha wall, sshev-" "Ssheven hundredsh *hiccup* thoushand siz hundrah thirdy-two bottles large number of people) gave him some reason to hope that he might be able to escape and return to his home in the wilds of Azshara. Then again, maybe death wouldn't be his pair of blue orbs and shivered at the horrifying truth of his predicament. Dreading that his eyes would confirm what his ears already revealed, the shaman nonetheless opened pale blue luminescence provided by a glowing gem affixed to the oblong ceiling.
He was in a small, four-sided cell carved out of solid stone illuminated by a so bad after all... Across from him and also hanging upside down was Terminos, looking none with his head closer to the ground than his feet and, much to the orc's dismay, singing. Next to him on the left was a solid wooden door, and to the right was Mafo Jushilit, also Twilight's Hammer cult was evil rapidly vanished. Any doubts he might've had about whether the too pleased and with an irate scowl on his face.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, so to speak," the undead not the Great Dark Beyond. "Believe it or not, this is are currently going for us I'd guess that we'll be meeting our 'ancestors' soon enough. I've already died once and would know if it happened again, although judging by how things warlock remarked sarcastically, noticing that his second cellmate was finally conscious again. And on that note, let me _thank_ you for glory and riches now."
I can practically see the his hardest to ignore the nearby Forsaken warrior. "No need to be pessimistic, Terminos," Gorakinos retorted evenly, trying inviting me to join this little quest, Gorakinos. "I've gotten out of more difficult situations with false curiosity. "Such as?" Terminos inquired one excludes the singing.
A long silence followed, assuming than this in the past." "Um...well, there was this one trip I made into the foray into Gnomeregan. "And then there was my reach my kneecaps was quite challenging, I can tell you. Trying to swat the ferocious gnomish legions when they didn't even Ragefire Chasm a while ago," the orc proffered unconvincingly.
I couldn't sell my boots afterwards either because his eyes. The dark arcanist rolled me, Gorakinos. You have completely reassured they were in such bad condition!" I, too, recently prevailed against terrifying odds when I overcame the mighty strength of a sinister, conniving rat with beady little eyes last month, so I'm confident that between the two of us we'll be able to action a moment later as the chains dug into his green skin.
Still ignoring Maggotface, the orc reflexively tried to shrug his broad shoulders, regretting the on that. Anyway, I'm already working think of something that'll let us escape from this prison, take out all the guards, and even find some treasure while we're at it." You could melt arcanite with the venom lacing his words. It should be a simple matter for me to transform into my ghost wolf form to extricate myself from these restraints, free the two spoke matter-of-factly, taking a perverse sense of delight in pointing out the holes in his companion's schemes. "Except that an aura of magical silence pervades this entire room, preventing the casting of any spells," Terminos for a minute.
Gorakinos thought about this of you, trick the guards into opening the door, steal their uniforms, and then stealthily make our way out of this cave." "Well then, perhaps I could go into a blood rage and, using my enhanced orcish strength, break free, smash the door down, hurl di-dif-diffi-...harder than it ish-" "-Reashly, youz augh ma-ma-making thissh more the side dryly. Terminos his head to my body through the Astral Plane to the Cenarion Hold, and raise a party to come back and rescue you two?"
"My succubus has taught me a few things about chains, and more likely to give the Twilight's Hammer a fruit basket out of gratitude for killing him." Besides, do you really believe the Cenarion Circle would send a rescue party after Mafo Jushilit? They're ta do ish..." "All *hiccup* yoush ne-eeds it'll take more than brute strength to loosen these manacles. "Mmm..." Gorakinos pondered, straining for ideas and refusing to become discouraged probably more to and indubitably holding a beautiful elemental princess in need of rescuing, and then concoct an elaborate escape plan that will deal a serious blow to the Twilight's Hammer and earn us a hefty reward from the princess' mother too."
"Well, I suppose I could wiggle my way out using troll contortionist techniques, make a homemade explosive device out of the natural materials available in this cell, dynamite a path to the cell that is likely right next to us Kelen the Seeker has lives!" Terminos retorted, unamused. "That idiotic plan has more holes in it than spite the nearby warlock than from a realistic assessment of their chances. "And just in case you're foolish enough to try it, which I believe you are, I'll just do ish, den." "-ish...you're nock lisszzhening, aren'tcha? 'Guesh us out of here, then?" Gorakinos inquired snidely.
"Well, why don't _you_ think of something to get attempting to perform troll contortionist techniques isn't recommended unless you have a regeneration factor." "You must be _full_ of great ideas, Terminos snorted. "Simpleminded fool. after criticizing mine so readily."
I'll have you had pulled his left arm so hard that it had messily separated from his hand at the wrist where the manacle was. The sounds of decayed flesh tearing and bones snapping interrupted Gorakinos and Terminos' bickering, and the two quickly turned to look at Maggotface who free arm and slammed the bony end down hard on the manacle imprisoning his other arm. The five-fingered fist fell to the ground with a sickly splat, and the warrior raised his new know-" With a disturbingly cheerful grin on his features, the Forsaken repeated the action again and again as his partners haze numbing him to the pain of joints bending in ways they weren't supposed to and shredded skin.
With both arms freed, Maggotface then proceeded to wriggle his way through the chains wrapped around his waist, drunken a few minutes ago as a mace and proceeded to batter the manacles fastening his legs until they too gave in. Upper body liberated, he sat up and used the arm with a bone sticking out of the end where his hand was watched in mute amazement until finally the metal band, unable to take any more abuse, cracked and shattered. No longer fastened to the wall, the warrior rolling over and slowly standing back up. "Seesh? Eshcaping ish *hic* eashy!" Maggotface proclaimed proudly, made easier by his missing lower jaw) and, with a dramatic flourish, withdrew a skeleton key.
He then, much to the warlock and shaman's surprise, rammed his fist into his throat (a feat crashed to the ground with a yelp. "Thanksh to Ishtallah olwayz locking ma up, I've got plenty umph practish," he confided happily as he stumbled gazed at the warrior disbelievingly. Gorakinos rose to his feet and Maggotface. "Um...thank you his way over to his partners and with unexpected skill unlocked their chains and freed them.
That was the most...eye-catching escape isn't hurting too badly, is it?" How are you *achem* feeling? Arm with what sounded like genuine curiosity. "Nope! Why shouldshz it?" Mafo asked I've ever seen. "Er...nevermind," the orc spoke gently, shaking contract, so why should the present moment be any different?
Really, the world hadn't made sense since he'd first embarked on this over to the wooden door and examined it carefully. Ignoring the other two occupants of the cell, Terminos stalked his head in bemusement. "We're not free yet so and get out of this cave. We still need to break down this door ram in your gullet, Mafo?"
I don't suppose you're hiding a battering don't start celebrating. Perhaps fearing that the answer would be that. "Don't worry about and took a deep breath, motioning with his right arm for the warlock and warrior to back-up. I can take care of this door." Cracking his knuckles once, the orc walked over to the barrier yes, Gorakinos spoke up first.
With a callous shrug and a hiccup, respectively, vanished and an angry growl grew in his throat. Simultaneously, a change overtook him as his previously calm demeanor filled with a ferocious fury made all the more frightening by the cold intelligence still visible within them. Muscles bulged and veins thickened as Gorakinos embraced his racial blood rage, and he glared at the door with eyes the two did, and the orc exhaled. Moving so fast that the actions were almost instantaneous, the shaman linked his fists together, raised them above pushed off with his feet and lunged headfirst at the wooden board which finally splintered in two under this double assault.
The door bent and shuddered but somehow managed to hold, but even as he drove his clasped hands in deeper the orc jumping to his feet and prepared to tackle the first guard he laid eyes on. Not wasting a moment, Gorakinos ducked and rolled into the new, larger cavern he found himself in, his head, and then brought them crashing down on the wooden slab standing between him and freedom. Unexpectedly and anticlimactically, though, there was no one in momentarily replaced by a wave of weariness. "This is odd," Gorakinos mused, blood rage fading and completely unguarded." He almost sounded insulted at the idea.
"Where are the sentries? Surely the Twilight's Hammer didn't leave us sight and only silence greeted his escape. "Who caresh?" Maggotface slurred as he also ducked and rolled out of the cell than ta go when it ishn't. "Better to goesh w'en sha going ash good tha' advice I wokesh up dead." Trush me, the one time ah didn't folla because it had looked like so much fun when his partner did it.
Shrugging once uneasily, the orc right. "I suppose you're be on the lookout for cultists. Still, let's stick to the shadows and nodded his head. I'd rather be safe than sorry here." Very carefully and as quietly as he could, Gorakinos moved forward, surprising stealth, Maggotface followed.
Much more obvious but still with whether staying put in prison would be preferable. Terminos watched his two traveling companions go and briefly contemplated listening to the gentle guidance of the stones for assistance in finding the path to the surface. He cursed at the reluctant conclusion that it probably wasn't worth it and took off after them, pausing for a moment to grab more of the apparently hastily abandoned cave. The trio's wonderment grew as they passed through been dropped at a moment's notice as their owners rushed off to some other task.
Clothes, food, and books were scattered about on the ground, tables, and chairs, looking as if they'd Mafo's severed hand just in case it could be used later and sticking it in the pockets of his voluminous robes. There was not a humanoid to be seen, and only the sounds of rats, snakes, and other of daylight shining in through an opening in the tunnel ahead. Puzzled and confused, it was with relief that they spied the rays Twilight's Run and emerged in the unforgiving desert of Silithus. Leaving the darkness behind them, they exited the subterranean world of small animals scurrying about let the Freelancers know that they weren't completely alone in the cave.
In unison, Terminos and Gorakinos' jaws fell open in gesture with his remaining hand. Maggotface settled for making a thumbs up by Silithus' rather demanding standards. The encampment was a wasteland, even going utter shock at the sight that greeted them. Tents were smashed, forged weapons of every sort were strewn just about everywhere, fires blazed and sent smoke and ashes drifting up into the air, and it looked like a pair of singed bracers that elementals often wear.
A person could barely take a step without tripping over wooden keg with his staff as if he didn't have a care in the world. And, standing in the center of it all, was Sinjo Honeybrew, calmly stirring the contents of a every summoning pavilion had been torn to shreds by hand (Hence why even months later adventurers cannot summon templars, dukes, and lords at the Twilight's Run camp). Behind him was a gigantic heap of the bruised, beaten, and in the few still conscious enough to be aware of how much they hurt. Noktog was vindictively jumping on top of them and eliciting further weak groans from in astonishment and awe at the destruction around him.
"Wha...what happened here?" Terminos asked in a bewildered tone, gaping some cases painfully bent bodies of the Twilight's Hammer cultists. Beside the warlock, Gorakinos was for once spied the trio, grinned jovially. Sinjo looked up and, as he His gaze briefly turned to look at the pyramid of bodies behind him. "The Twilight's Hammer and I had a little...'disagreement' over respecting the intellectual property rights of others." at a loss for words.
"I think I might've made my point a little too strongly, though." hand and, almost magically, four mugs appeared in his paw through sleight of hand. "Anyway, shall we celebrate your regained freedom with a drink?" He held up a hairy friend around the keg and grabbing one of the mugs to partake of the brew. "Sinjo, I'sh like tha way you thinksh!" Maggotface exclaimed happily, wasting no time in joining his The regret his words implied wasn't reflected in his voice. Gorakinos and Terminos exchanged reasoned rationally after a moment's pause.
"Look at it this way," the warlock of excruciating proportions the likes of which Scarlet interrogators haven't devised an equal to." "We can either deal with a happy, drunk Maggotface, or a Maggotface with a hangover a look. Gorakinos frowned but nodded his this opportunity to ask the cultists a question or two. "When you put it like that...Anyway, I think I'll make use of speak knows where that blasted chest is.
Hopefully one of the ones that can still head in acquiescence. Besides, I don't know what's in that beverage, but it's so strong I can smell it from here and see bodies and, at random, grabbed one of the cultists who still looked relatively lucid and roughly pulled him out of the pyramid of tangled limbs. Keeping a respectful distance from Sinjo just in case the pandaren proved to be less friendly than he seemed, the orc shaman walked over to pile of and, worst of all, forced to endure off-key drinking songs all in the course of one contract. "I've been attacked by pirates, impaled by ice, hit by my own spells, almost eaten by giant reptiles, the fumes rising in the air and, after everything's that happened, I don't want to take anymore chances."
Needless to say, I'm not in a good mood," Gorakinos growled rotten disposition and, trust me, you won't like me when I'm angry." He grinned viciously, baring his fangs. "Now, how you answer my next question will determine whether or not I become angry in addition to my already the other day? The one with a Stormwind crest?" "Where is the chest you cultists stole from the Bronzebeard Encampment menacingly, holding the interrogated by the scruff of the neck. The hapless cultist who, as coincidence would have it, happened to be Vyral the Vile made unrecognizable by the thorough thrashing he'd received and the absence of that he struggled to raise his hand and point it in a northwesterly direction.
Strangely, a crooked smile formed on his features, and it was with an air of malice repeated mockingly. "The chest?" Vyral his Dreadmist Mask which had been reduced to a few scraps littering the ground, blinked in surprise at the question which jogged recently forgotten memories. "The silithid attacked the raiding party you speak of on their lies within the recesses of Hive'Ashi. If the chest hasn't been destroyed, it can."
Claim it...if you way back and made off with the pillaged loot. Still grinning spitefully, the Twilight overlord let his head fall back and laughed diabolically, his baleful chuckling sending shivers down the spines of all vertebrates who heard it and what metaphorically materialized in Silithus under the night sky. With a cackle promising immeasurable pleasure, the demon hugging her arresting hips and right holding a leather whip with the skill of an expert. Voluptuous to the point of open eroticism, the succubus spread her wings sensuously and posed seductively, left hand passed as a spine for several invertebrates too until Gorakinos finally had enough and punched Vyral in the face, shutting him up by the effective method of knocking him unconscious.
Through half-lidded eyes in whose hypnotic depths countless souls had been and sitting around it were three figures. A crackling bonfire warded off the desert's nighttime chill, master, the warlock Terminos. One she recognized as her lost, she took in her new surroundings and audience. The second was another Forsaken clad in plate and wearing a his best and failing to look anywhere but at her.
The third was an uneasy orc covered in wolf's skins trying as she let her disgust show although she was still in every way an enchantress. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," the demon complained, charming purring coming to a crashing halt leer so large that it practically covered his entire face. "Even if you paid me you couldn't pay to deal with more insubordination from what should be his loyal minions. "Don't call me Term!" the warlock commanded for the umpteenth time, annoyed at having unfounded, anyway.
"Your fears are me enough to seduce these two, Term." Not even _I_ am Betnys questioned archly, eyes narrowing beguilingly. "Then what have you summoned me here for?" male humanoid on the planet' still stands, you know." "My policy of 'no, not even if you were the last that cruel, Betnys."
Much to the succubus' surprise, instead of gritting his decayed teeth much, my dear. "You flatter yourself too and withdrew a serrated hand, a spool of thread, and a needle and then gestured at Maggotface who waved his mutilated arm suggestively. Truth be told, I have something far more 'suitable' for your unique talents in mind." With a dry chuckle, he reached into his pockets in further annoyance as she'd expected the warlock grinned cruelly. "_Please_ tell me you're kidding me," Betnys pleaded master's mind, although the orc nearly keeled over.
A cute pout and gravity-defying bounce failed to change her a seamstress, Term!" "I'm a seductress, not sickly, exceedingly unenthusiastic about her new task. Terminos shrugged indifferently, amusement over his minion's me, demon. "That means nothing to to his wrist unless you want to be sacrificed.
Now, I suggest you get started on reattaching my partner's hand dissatisfaction plainly visible on his face. And it's hand and sewing implements, and then meandered over to the grinning Forsaken warrior. With a flattering huff, the demon sauntered over to her master, reluctantly grabbed the yourself you'll have lost far more than a fist by the end of tonight!" "I _know_ what you're thinking, mister, and if you don't keep your good hand to Terminos!"
To drive home her point, the on Maggotface whose leer, absent lower jaw notwithstanding, continued to grow. Sadly for her, this seemed to have the opposite effect than intended his other partner who was becoming rather red in the face. Seeing this, Terminos chuckled once from diabolical satisfaction and then turned to face succubus cracked her whip menacingly. "Reconsidering the spiritual path you've chosen, trying to stay as far away from him as possible and jabbing the needle harshly into his wrist.
The orc coughed once and dragged his focus off the demonic temptress as she begrudgingly attended to Maggotface, simultaneously replied a bit testily. "Don't be absurd, Terminos," he Gorakinos?" the warlock inquired tauntingly. "I was merely beside myself with horror over your pet's corruptive unnaturalness, and I'm NOT referring to her figure!" to 'begin his journey of knowledge' over again, we can probably use all the help we can get." "Anyway, didn't you say something earlier about having enough reserve mana to summon reinforcements? With Sinjo having departed head slowly.
Terminos nodded his Deciding that it wouldn't be to his advantage to continue debating this topic, he changed the subject. "I can summon one ally to our location, yes, but only one, which could be problematic because we don't know what the other Freelancers are up to as we speak and thought for a moment. Gorakinos' face scrunched up in which one of them would make a good addition to our party. "Hm...you know, I should be able to ask the spirits about my guildmates and I'd rather not waste the mana on someone who's going to decline to join us." Under his breath, he muttered, "Not that I'd blame them if they did."
Hopefully they'll answer and save be bound or broken than the usually intangible wisps of who knew what that existed ethereally. "You certain about that?" the warlock questioned doubtfully, placing more confidence in demons and forces that could a period of deep meditation and lengthy communion first?" "Besides, doesn't asking such direct questions of your 'spirits' normally require us some time." The shaman rolled his eyes on, the fires that warm us, the water that nurtures us, and the wilds that test us.
The spirits are always watching and all around us, in the air we breathe, the earth we walk is easy. Speaking to them underneath his coif. Learning how to listen...now that's the hard part." -- neither your nor Maggotface and especially not your succubus' presences are conducive to meditative exercises I have some herbs that should hasten my mental journey." "However, you are correct in that it helps to approach the spirits in a certain frame of mind, and fortunately for us since -- with all _due_ respect allowances for undead whose hair has mostly either rotted or fallen out.
"Herbs?" Terminos repeated with what could be called an arched eyebrow if you permitted The orc shrugged his broad shoulders once. "Have you been visiting the shady goods wrist back on as Gorakinos' face took on an affronted look. Maggotface guffawed and then winced as the succubus vindictively continued sewing his illegal contraband in the Eastern Kingdoms?!" Realizing that he was getting worked up again, he took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "I only bought something from him that one time to thank him for giving me directions! How was I supposed to know it was considered dealer in Booty Bay again?"
"Anyway, I'll have you know that these herbs come straight from the sages of Thunder Bluff, and there's nothing at all illicit about them! contained mixtures and plants that the Royal Apothecary Society would pay an arm and a leg for...literally. "Whatever," the dark arcanist replied dubiously, having seen a fair number of tauren sharing pipes that he was sure you need to do. "Just hurry up and do what They're a mix of entirely natural herbs found in the untainted wilds of Kalimdor that soothe the mind and bring calm to the soul!" Arguing with you all night does unhooking a small brown leather pouch from his belt.
"Nor me," the green-skinned mystic retorted evenly, hand reaching for and of multicolored ground bits of plants fall onto his upraised palm. Almost reverentially, he loosened the bag's strap and let nearly a handful not appeal to me." Opening his mind and ears to the world around him, Gorakinos then slowly rose and approached flame and breathed in the green, hazy smoke that ascended from the fire. With a quick wave of his hand, he dropped the herbs above the crackling few ponderous steps backwards with now dilated pupils and met Terminos' questioning gaze.
"...I see dead people." Speaking in a stunned, bewildered voice, the orc took a the campfire, coming so close that another step would've taken him into the flames. "And I'm not referring is glowing!" Whoa, my hand in front of his eyes and giggling childishly at whatever it was he saw. The warlock sighed as his partner suddenly took an active interest in his arm, shaking it to you two.
"To think people actually wonder why anyone would choose the demon's path over _this_," he muttered sarcastically, shaman, "Ask the spirits your question already!" "Gorakinos!" he spoke commandingly, nearly yelling at the hallucinating to speak in a voice that was and was not his own. The orc ignored him and, to Terminos' surprise, turned chillingly serious and began belief that nearly everyone in the world was an idiot once again confirmed in his mind. "What once was broken and forgotten shall be made whole as shall the northern king's fortresses of death.
"The armies of the dark one will march and fall, portal opens again and new horrors confront the world. The illusion of peace shall soon fade, though, as the broken again," he intoned in a solemn, passionless voice. Bonds with unexpected allies will be forged and-" Suddenly and without warning, Gorakinos started laughing so pirates! Bwhahahahahahaha!" "Hahaheheha! Blood Elf space orc rolled around on the ground, sides nearly bursting with laughter.
For once, it was Maggotface's turn to ignore his guildmate as the hard that he fell to the ground and pounded the desert sand with his fists. He was having fun leering at the succubus and could care things back on track by the expedient method of kicking his green-skinned acquaintance in the stomach. Terminos, on the other hand, was much more anxious to get on with business and decided to set you off-world brute! Rushlight, perhaps?" "Stop laughing and tell me who to summon, less if his partner made a fool of himself.
"The troll archeologist? Nah, she's busy trying to find evidence supporting the theorized link between blood elves, and maybe even harpies, dryads, and centaur is a mystery to me, though. "Why she's so eager to prove that trolls are related to night elves, naga, high elves, satyr, like!" He cackled in amusement. Just picture what that family tree would look trolls and the ancient kaldorei," the mirthful shaman answered casually in between groans of pain. "Good guess,
Keep trying!" scolded, kicking his partner again for good measure. "Guess? This is not a game, fool!" Terminos though. This did nothing other than temporarily interrupt his laughter, though, unique distinction of being one of the few practitioners of divine magic he'd actually concede was competent. "How about Chawne?" he asked hopefully, picturing in his mind the solemn but affable tauren druid who had the the orc replied in a distracted tone, eyes darting wildly in every direction following colorful hallucinations.
"Fighting for the future of Azeroth against the Firelord's minions in the fiery depths of the Molten Core," and the warlock reluctantly decided to play along. "You _could_ summon him, but Mirkanesh is going to need a healer pretty soon, and he's on the shadowbolts, but she never listens! Hee!" I keep telling her to take it a little lighter at the mental image of that frustratingly cheerful Forsaken woman crushed under a vast magma elemental. Despite himself, Terminos felt what remained of his lips curl upwards in the faintest indication of a grin already a bit occupied right now trying to help roll a Molten Giant off Jalizza.
He quickly squelched it, though, and soon his shivering once. "What about...Ishtallah?" he questioned, a ten-foot pole, but Maggotface's witch of a ward chilled him to his unnaturally animated bones for in her he recognized the signs of one being controlled _by_ the power she wielded instead of the other way around. He usually afforded mages a little respect because they were at least willing to try to harness the power of the arcane even if it was with methods that seemed to him tantamount to wearing child's protective gloves while holding face returned to its normal scowl. The shaman shrugged once and then rolled around in the sand for a help her soon, she'll be more messed up in the head than Maggotface!"
"Slowly going insane as arcane fire burns through her veins! If somebody doesn't piped up proudly from his seat near the fire. "I do *hiccup* my best to look ashter her," Maggotface few seconds trying to cope with his suddenly itching skin before answering. "It'sha the least ah can do sinsh she takes such good care manacles she used last month?" Di-did I tell yoush about the spiked actually looked interested in what Maggotface was saying.
For the first time that night, Betnys the succubus o' me, alwaysh trying to tie me up and stuff. "...Anyway, the answer is- What was the question again? Oh yeah, who to summon, sorry, I got distracted by that technicolor to go home in an ice-cube. "Ishtallah is a big no-no unless you want please?" Next guess, rainbow over there," Gorakinos mumbled, pointing towards what appeared to Terminos to be merely empty space with his left hand.
The Forsaken warlock narrowed his growing old, Gorakinos. "This 'game' of yours is use you to increase my supply of soul shards. I suggest you simply cut to the chase or let me eyes in annoyance. Personally, I'm a little more remember how to stand for more than three seconds.
"Phooey," the shaman retorted petulantly as he tried and failed to to stay on his feet, the orc decided to give standing on his head an attempt. "Well, if you're going to be such a spoilsport, I'll give you a few hints." Not managing partial towards the latter..." The results weren't words of arcane power, and even the denser than usual Gorakinos got the hint. "The person I have in mind isn't Jorb or Necrosan or-" Terminos began chanting dark and- Hey look, flying fish!"
"The name starts with an 'A'! much different. Terminos raised his hand to his chin in contemplation as Gorakinos withdrew a Stoneclaw Totem from his pack and planted it Akinos?" "How about on the Forsaken caster for an impressive five seconds. "Hm?" The shaman raised his head and managed to focus in the ground, releasing an orcish sigh of disappointment as it failed to catch the fish only he could see.
"You mean my evil twin, except that he isn't? Nah, he's busy trying to talk his way into Useli's pants." Turning in the direction of what was from burning his less than lucid companion to a crisp. Terminos silently counted to ten in an effort to restrain himself or disappointed when it worked. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved Booty Bay half a world a way, the green-skinned adventurer shouted, "Keep it up, Akinos! You're wearing that vixen of a troll priestess down! Whoo!" "Well then, is Azlana was once again overcome with sidesplitting laughter.
Gorakinos shook his head in the negative and of pain as he rolled on the ground in an effort to put the magical flames out. This time the warlock did hurl a fireball at him, but the orc's guffaws continued albeit intermingled with cries a possibility?" Terminos could only wonder what the shattered the reinforced steel barrier an armory depot that probably contained highly volatile materials lay on the other side and if you did detonate a bomb gathering black lotus would be easier than collecting your body parts. Azlana quietly cursed as she surveyed the metal wall in front of her and certified that yes, it was a dead end and yes, trying to use explosives wouldn't be a good idea because even if the force didn't blow you to kingdom come, you'd still have to deal with the ensuing host of leper gnomes that'd swarm into the area.
Besides, this hallway was deep inside Gnomeregan's irradiated interior, and if through sheer luck the bomb did make a hole and the resulting explosion shaman found so funny. And so Azlana, Forsaken rogue and idly as she considered her next move. She'd been doing that a lot lately, she reflected corner, with enough mecha to build a second Gnomeregan out of causing no end of frustration for her. What should've been a simple retrieval job had turned into a deadly maze full of obstacles and traps around every CEO of the Freelancers, cursed.
Making matters worse, she even had competition in this mechanical dystopia, a team screeching mobile sirens that kept trying to trip her. They'd proved to be more of a nuisance than the find her way out of this metal deathtrap of a city everything would be dandy and- Still, she'd managed to locate and acquire what her employer had requested first, and if she could just of Alliance adventurers the likes of which she'd never seen before. The sound of approaching footsteps sent her reminiscence to a thus was determined to fight her pursuers head on with all the skill and underhanded tricks she knew.
She recognized this pattering of feet, knew who they belonged to and that stealth would be useless against them, and would be a good chance to do it. Besides, she needed to blow off some steam, and this screeching halt, and she immediately reached for her daggers. Fearlessly, Azlana turned and, hugging the side of the hallway, dashed forward with her her opponents were undaunted and uttered their notorious battle cries. Seeing her was like watching an angel of death approach, but Unconquerable Vanquishing Gnomes, Logo 237, and her escape from Gnomeregan, was buy a new pair of shoes.
The first thing Azlana did with her reward money, long after her battle with the Invincible Legion of weapons drawn and a ferocious grin on her face to meet her enemies. Terminos wracked his brain for more names of Freelancers and came up "Abitani, then?" soon replaced by a surprised yelp as he fell over again from an utter lack of balance. Gorakinos put out the last of the flames and leapt to his feet with a congratulatory shout which was with an answer he could live with, loosely speaking of course.
Lying on the ground, he spat out five minutes ago, but I digress." The addled shaman tried to rise again, decided against it, and settled for a cross-legged sitting position. "Yep, he's the one you want to summon, mostly because if you don't he'll probably be dead in ten minutes and I heard that over have time to waste lollygagging, you know. "Well, what's taking you so long? We don't some sand and nodded his head. The warlock did a quick mental calculation and determined that, while they didn't have the battle had turned against him.
Abitani could pinpoint the exact moment when if he made a mistake he liked to know what it was so he wouldn't repeat it...and, if given the chance, this was one situation he did not want to repeat or even be a part of in the first place for that matter. This didn't do him much good now that his bruised and bloody body was pinned to Stranglethorn's lush, verdant terrain by the weight of the troll axe thrower crouched over him with a vicious, murderous grin on his painted face, but Abitani was a professional and time to 'lollygag', he did have plenty of time to kick Gorakinos again...hard. A glance to his left revealed the crumpled corpses of two Hakkari zealots riddled with arrows, a silent testimony to the ferocity of the battle that had just taken place, while a look to his would give him a chance to escape in the confusion, or a pair of swallows carrying a coconut on a string and through sheer good luck accidentally dropping it on his attacker's head. The hunter did not, much to his immediate disappointment and rapidly dwindling probability of survival, see a band of Horde adventurers charging to his rescue, a hunting party of rival trolls whose unexpected arrival was as good a time as any if not better to dream.
Granted, the third was unlikely to begin with, but it had style and now right treated him to the sight of the enormous plagued bear known as JuJu wrestling with a troll berserker and actually appearing to be winning albeit not at a speed that would save him. "Ju know, mon, I was expec'din better from someone da claims to be Mandokir's son," the axe thrower remarked contemptuously, making smugly. He chuckled once, a free meal, jah?" "Den 'gain, why complain o'er recei'ding a slitting motion a few inches in front of his neck with a throwing axe to indicate his intentions.
Abitani grinned and with false confidence, refusing to show dat, mon. "I dunno 'bout wanna be eatin' stringy meat like dat, and you donna even know where I've been. Mebbe I be a rotten ol' dwarf usin an Orb of Deception, neh? Ju don any fear and hoping to buy himself some time. Who's da say eating me as Abitani's head ricocheted painfully off the ground beneath him.
The axe thrower punched him hard in the face, and blood flew and even a tauren or two and several naga, and ma stomach is fine! Boya, ju really are a zilly one, aren'cha?" "'Civilization' has corrupted ju, mon! Only a foolish troll wouldja take indigestion seriously! I've eaten fellow trolls, humans, dwarves, gnomes, elves, orcs, won' give ya indigestion?" The troll hunter gazed upward at his tusked attacker through blurred vision one, Gurubashi. "Vu da foolish Feeling a tingling, pulling sensation overcome him, Abitani smirked triumphantly.
Ju're...merely a savage, while me and meh tribe, we got class an' honor." and laughed insultingly, chortling occasionally interrupted by an aching wheeze. "And...da Darkspear have happening he hurriedly brought his axe down to cleave the intruder in two but by then it was too late. A confused expression crossed the axe thrower's face as he saw his victim fade beneath him, and as he realized what was trophy and meal denied. "NOOOOOO!!!" the troll shouted angrily, friends too."
And then a coconut that a pair of swallows had been carrying on a string accidentally the maddening roar of ethereal storms, and the chaotic assault of every color he had ever imagined and then some playing across his vision. For a moment that was both less than a second and more than a lifetime all Abitani knew was a cold so chilling it burned, troll hunter found himself in the bitter night air of Silithus with his pet bear beside him. The moment passed, though, and before he could make any sense of his trip through the Twisting Nether the fell from the sky and crashed into the axe thrower's head, knocking him unconscious. There was a campfire blazing, and in front of it with a hand-shaped imprint on his the side, frown so severe that the troll found himself worrying that it might get stuck in that position.
Nearby was a cackling wolf he recognized as Gorakinos chasing his own tail, and a grumbling Terminos stood off to look with JuJu. Abitani exchanged a quick cheek and an unusually displeased looking succubus hovering over him with a needle was Maggotface. "Me think d'at mebbe we were better off in da Vale," injuries and the recent sensory overload. And then he passed out from his stealthiness that any human would've believed impossible for someone so tall.
Deep within the tunnels of Hive'Ashi, a large, heavyset form moved with a he muttered, not sure whether he was joking or serious. Unfortunately for the furtive figure, the silithid had no such ingrained assumptions, and the covert agent found himself forced to use invisibility the people he was sneaking past do the work of pretending he wasn't there. Doing so wasn't an inconvenience or a nuisance, but the silent prowler much preferred letting gizmos and extra techniques in his vast repertoire of skills so be it. Still, a mission is a mission, and if he needed to employ a few tricks, cloaking gadgets, and a stick of incense that simulated the smell of the hive's porous caverns to travel unnoticed.
As he searched the corridors which hummed with an alarming amount of activity, for unknowingly leading him this far, but the brewmaster's rampage had made that unnecessary. He had originally planned on covertly engineering an escape for them as a form of thanks their own attempt to recover the chest, and the horned bovine was determined to reach it first. Now that they were likely free, though, it was only a matter of time before the Freelancers made the scout's thoughts briefly turned to the three mercenaries he'd been following. Although the two Forsaken and orc didn't know it, their employer had been one of SI:7's most skilled agents before the plague changed the course of her life, and it posed a danger to the Horde...he'd destroy the chest and make it appear that the silithid were responsible.
With a checkered past like hers and her current employment in the Undercity, it could be just about anything and if it would be worth it if it meant preventing a dangerous object from potentially falling into the wrong hands. No one would be the wiser although the travelers he'd been trailing wouldn't receive the expected compensation for their efforts, but he was keen to know what was so important that she'd hire a band of mercenaries to travel to the other side of the continent to retrieve it. The tauren rogue's musings came to an end as he finally spied the chest he'd been looking for sitting figure what these bugs were up to and he was confident the answer would be learned eventually. Why they had done so puzzled and worried him, but there were others hard at work attempting to there were no other creatures nearby, he quietly approached the small box.
For now he had other matters to attend to and, when he was certain atop a pile of dead bodies and scattered objects that the silithid must've carried away from their raid. As he drew closer and examined and would've been unpickable to a lesser rogue. The locking mechanism was a marvel of gnomish engineering him a whole fifteen seconds longer than usual to unlock the lid. As was, even with his 300 + X lock picking skill it took it, his interest grew.
Hearing the clicks that signified cogs spinning into place and hinges releasing, the bullish humanoid slowly opened the chest so minute, all thoughts of stealth completely forgotten as he boggled at what he'd found. The tauren was so surprised that he stood in stunned silence for well over a on the pile where he'd found it, and disappeared into the darkness. Then, not making a sound, he very carefully relocked the chest, set it back as not to set off any booby traps that might be in place and gazed intently at its contents. The burning sun slowly rose over the horizon, but it felt for hours until the celestial orb was high overhead and transformed the barren desert into a sweltering wasteland.
Surrounded by rugged mountains and covered in sand and stone as the land was, the burning rays would not be to Kalimdor's last frontier, and few creatures managed to survive the land's harsh demands let alone thrive. Silithus was an inhospitable abode, unwelcoming and unforgiving to nearly every species that was foolish enough to come made little difference in Silithus as of yet. In short, one would have to be insane to consider Silithus and affectionately called it home. As a professional madman, he actually liked become painfully grating after a while, but the villain reasoned that every place had its potential drawbacks, and when you thought about it was there _really_ such a big difference between dark forces of unfathomable evil and a nosy next door neighbor?
True, the dredges could be annoying at times especially during their mating season, and you had to be careful to stay out of the occasionally wandering Anubisath's path unless you wanted to be stepped on, and the constant hum the crystal's emitted could living there, which suited Vyral the Vile just fine. The baleful overlord didn't think so as he stood outside in the biting cold of the desert's morning, torn rags of the day before row of cultists in neat formation, waiting to learn why they'd been told to gather here and what their orders would be. Gazing at him with expressions of alternately fear, confusion, and occasionally irritation at being awake at such a forsaken hour were row after wait long. They wouldn't have to replaced by a fresh set of Dreadmist garments and mask that did little to hide the scowl etched on his shadowed features.
"Today we repay the grievous insult that's been dealt us!" Vyral the Vile lucky that the Abyssal Council refuses to acknowledge that yesterday ever happened! We must be avenged!" he shouted, becoming silent for a moment so he could hear the ensuing cheers and shouts of enthusiasm more easily. "Yesterday was a disaster that has sent the Twilight's cause back by weeks if not more than a month, and it was also an embarrassment! The Hammer's best and brightest...defeated utterly by a single foe! Consider yourselves expected did not come, and his scowl deepened. The moment turned into a minute as the sounds he declared loudly, not even bothering to hide the anger in his tone. "Oh for crying out loud, don't tell me that the chance to obtain vengeance doesn't excite you and send your blood pounding through your veins...or your next closest equivalent bodily components for unholy revenge?" Vyral questioned, glowering crossly.
"Surely you're not hesitant to mete out our been hoping for. The responses weren't what he'd those of us who don't have veins or blood?" A few of the lesser elementals and non-humanoid members of the cult nodded their heads, glad they weren't being excluded. "We still need to recover reinforcements from the Abyssal Council again!" "We should wait until we can summon joint attack after a week or more of plotting!"
"Let's consult with the other Twilight camps and stage a from our injuries!" "Wasn't being beaten to a bloody Lair with the Defias and the Dark Strand Cultists!" "Um...can't today, Im afraid! I'm scheduled to raid Blackwing fanatical human scratched the back of his head nervously with his right hand, laughing fretfully. As one, the assembled crowd turned to stare at the cultist who'd spoken, and the young pulp once already enough?" *whimper*
"We are, really! We've even prepared the Greater Fire Protection and Swiftness Potions and everything else we'll need! All that's luck?" "So...um, wish us voice laden with vexation. "SILENCE!" Vyral the Vile screamed, left is to meet outside Blackrock Mountain and assault Nefarion's fortress!" he protested unconvincingly, a weak smile on his face. "All of you should be ashamed! We're villains, not five-year-old kids who need their hands held! When someone insults us, we torture them! When someone threatens us, we strike them first! And when someone attacks us, we utterly eradicate them from this plane! For the pride and reputation of the Twilight's Hammer, tentatively asked a question.
One of the braver cultists yesterday when we were at full strength, and we have nowhere near that number this morning!" "But sir, how are we going to avoid another loss? We were no match for the brewmaster we must punish those who've wronged us! I could care less about your injuries or summoning reinforcements or sharing our recent defeat with our compatriots or risking injury again or...'raiding' Blackwing Lair! All that matters now is vengeance!" He slammed his fist into the palm of his right hand for added emphasis. The sinister mastermind on a mission of almost certain failure?" he asked ominously. "Do you take me for a fool who would send his followers on, tone filling with wrath.
No one dared answer, and he continued sighed tiredly. "Idiots! The brewmaster is insignificant, merely an accessory to the harm that has been inflicted upon us by those three mercenaries we imprisoned! all of Silithus if needed to find them, and when we do..." Vyral grinned grimly and turned to begin their journey, but another question delayed him. That overstuffed bear attacked us to rescue those two Forsaken and their orc companion, and it is they who will feel our vengeance! We will march across near the front of the crowd with a puzzled expression on his face. "And 'hen we do...what next 'den?" queried a curious troll recruit, standing hunched over The pandaren and his entire race will suffer when the rightful masters of this world are liberated, but for now they are irrelevant.
"I deliberately left it ominously open-ended so your imaginations could fill in the unspoken silence!" the encumbered overlord air, Vyral opened his mouth again and spoke with false sweetness. As the scent of singed skin spread and smoke rose into the No? Good. "Any _more_ questions? yelled, conjuring a sphere of flame and hurling it at the unprepared cultist for good measure. Now, move out! We have a lot of ground to cover!" He strode off, and the cultists satyr, and for all I remember of last night I very well could have.
I feel like I've been hexed, cursed, and then kicked in the stomach by a my trance, but their only answer is raucous laughter. I've tried asking Maggotface and Terminos what happened after I entered -- relieved at learning that they weren't going to be fighting the pandaren again anytime soon -- followed. At the very least, though, we he calls a 'cunning plan' that'll enable us to sneak by the silithid without any problems. Abitani and JuJu have joined our ranks now, and the troll hunter has come up with what morning and should be back any hour with the materials he needs to get started.
How is still a mystery to me, but Abitani caught the first wyvern flight to Gadgetzan this appear to have been successful. Thankfully, he doesn't seem upset at being summoned halfway the area before he returns to do more serious exploring once his business with the Zandalar Tribe is concluded. Apparently, he was thinking of traveling to Silithus soon anyway, and he claims that this'll give him a chance to scout a skeleton horse and timber wolf in a hostile desert can be expected to. While waiting, we were able to retrieve our mounts who have fared about as well as across the world to help us out.
Better than expected, perhaps, if you factor in there not being any bodies of gnawing on Maggotface's leg before he actually has to use his 'trusty wooden leg'. I would write more, but I have a splitting headache and need to discourage JuJu from being a Freelancer... Oh, the joys of water available for them to wash the sticky insect goo off themselves. "That's your cunning plan?!" Gorakinos and Terminos spoke checked to see if it was time for the world to end.
On the warlock's shoulder, a surprised Noktog withdrew a miniature pocket watch and the unusual concurrence as merely a random coincidence. Reassured that it wasn't, the imp shrugged and chalked up simultaneously, for once agreeing on something. "Ja, dat be it," Abitani confirmed, returned from Gadgetzan and now and taking on the entire nest himself only by the hunter's urgings for restraint. Beside him, JuJu growled plaintively, impatient to get started and held back from charging in wid it?"
"Ju got a problem standing on the perimeter of Hive'Ashi with his fellow mercenaries. "It's the most ludicrous thing I've heard of, and I've been traveling with Gorakinos and I haven't seen anything recently to prove otherwise, I'll tell you." "Tell me, is it now a guild requirement to be _insane_? off, and Gorakinos picked up where he'd left off. The warlock threw up his hands in disgust and stalked Maggotface for over two weeks!" Terminos criticized, tone incredulous as he scowled again.
"Not to be rude, but I'm inclined to standards! It's untested, completely unpredictable, utterly absurd, and-" This plan of yours is ridiculous, even going by our usual the back once supportively with his mended hand. "Ish *hic* pure genius!" Maggotface exclaimed enthusiastically, clapping Abitani on agree with our notably vocal associate. "Howsh you always come up with winked conspiratorially.
The troll hunter He chortled for a moment before refocusing on the shaman. "I could tell ju, but den I'd have da kill you." brilliant stuff like thish?" "I know it be an _especially_ cunning plan, mon, but my da propose?" This was asked with a half-challenging note. Jus' trust me, okay? Unless ju have some'ding better with self-importance.
Gorakinos grinned and swelled cleverness not be something ju need da be afraid of. "As a matter of fact," he began in a shrewd voice, "I think we'd be better off if we made a detour to Un'Goro Crater, set and should work fine!" Terminos shouted hastily, unwilling to listen to any more foolishness. "I've changed my mind! Abitani, your plan is the _second_ most ludicrous thing I've heard hurry up and finish this abysmal quest we're on!" "Just please, for the love of all that's unholy, let's a trap and lure a devilsaur to the hive, release a legion of captured bloodpetals to add to the chaos, and in the resulting confusion-"
"Fine wid' me," Abitani replied confidently, looking around to see only hanging around to humor everyone, Terminos wore his customary frown again, and JuJu looked like he wanted to kill something...which was about normal. Maggotface looked excited, Gorakinos appeared skeptical and slightly put out, Noktog gave the impression that he had better things to do with his time and was troll hunter spoke inquiringly, "Shall we begin, friends?" Convinced that there would be no more protests, the if there were any further criticisms of his scheme. Gorakinos sighed, Maggotface cheered, and Terminos scowled, but following Abitani's lead the three raised the a bony imp stood where the mercenaries had been.
A few seconds later, four humanoid skeletons, a skeletal bear, and even attempting to guess how Noggenfogger's Elixers worked their magic. "I still think this is a ludicrous idea," the shaman muttered, not potions that the troll had handed out earlier to their mouths and drank. "Nobody will *hic* recognizesh me!" Mafo remarked cheerfully, having looking unusually fearsome as he did so. "We be skeletons wid' style, mon," Abitani cackled, interrupted him, though, and the hunter shrugged nonchalantly.
A growl from an impatient and even more fearsome JuJu traded one state of undeath for another. "Well den, time to lead to ensure that there would be no more dawdling. "About time," the Forsaken warlock mumbled, stepping forward and taking the objective and disbands the better, in my opinion. "The sooner this farce of a party achieves its be goin."
I've already been soaked, chased by large carnivorous animals, shadow bolted, imprisoned, and forced to this doesn't end soon." I dread what'll happen next if military forces stationed in Silithus, spoke as he gazed intently at the desert's ominous landscape from his balcony. "I fear what will happen if we don't end this quickly," Commander Mar'alith, night elven leader of the Cenarion Circle's endure more nonsense than even the rivalry between gnomes and goblins has dreamed up. His face, already touched by lines of worry etched by lesser elementals under its command and is currently conscripting the native elementals of Silithus into its service.
"My scouts have reported that a powerful elemental of air has materialized to the northwest with a legion of fear that it is only a matter of time before these two forces unite and combine their strength to launch an assault upon Cenarion Hold. If not stopped, this elemental lord will soon have an entire army under its command, and with the Twilight Hammer's established ties to such primal creatures I time and grief, looked even graver than usual. The commander's gaze hardened, and he clenched a twin elemental and Twilight attack I cannot guarantee that this crucial position will hold. "I fear no enemy and have nothing but respect and admiration for my soldiers, but against delay cannot be afforded.
The situation is dire, and his fists in anger and determination. We must act and act quickly, for us to do." There is only one thing all the time which, considering that this was Silithus, he may very well have. Mar'alith's aide nodded his head matter-of-factly, as if he heard solemn pronouncements and gloomy assessments or all might be lost.
Predicting his superior's orders, he inquired calmly, "Shall I offer seven or eight the silence that followed one could've heard a pin drop. The night elf commander did not speak for several seconds, and in intently at his assistant. Slowly, he turned and stared gold pieces to adventurers who handle this problem for us, sir?" "Do you _honestly_ believe I'd leave something this important to vagrants levelly, not looking up from his notebook and thus completely missing the expression of sheer exasperation that passed across the veteran leader's face.
"...10 gold pieces and a choice between three superior items for those who have honored or higher reputation with us, then?" the aide suggested once in dismay as he solemnly marched towards the door. "Elune's grace save us all," Commander Mar'alith muttered, shaking his head of dubious trustworthiness and questionable skills?" Mar'alith asked incredulously. "Save your 'gold pieces and superior gear' for military fashion so assemble the soldiers and prepare to ride. The Cenarion Circle will deal with this threat ourselves in an appropriate orders."
Those are my the troops because they'll need them soon. "But sir, practically everyone except the Scourge outsources these days, and the Scourge only doesn't because they have the largest labor force in the known world! Just look to depart in 30 minutes," he replied quickly. "Aye sir, I'll have a garrison fully equipped and ready under his breath when he was confident he was alone, "Only in the army would they assign an economist to a military encampment." "Best of luck to you in this campaign." The aide saluted once as his superior walked through the archway leading back inside, mumbling quietly at how successful the Burning Legion has been with outsourcing and-" The night elf finally caught sight of the commander's increasingly irate face and changed track.
Abitani was a firm believer that the impossible an auction house, the troll hunter assessed problems analytically and quickly approached the questions of who, where, when, and how. Whereas most people would hesitate or scoff at the idea of slaying Onyxia, vanquishing Ragnaros, or finding a good deal at a mercenary and in that line of work there were some questions one didn't raise. If he felt it was worth asking, he'd throw in a 'why' too, but he was was merely waiting to be done. Therefore, when questioned by Terminos if he had any bright ideas how the four of them (six if you counted Noktog and JuJu) could search a hive occupied by a swarm of intelligent, malevolent insects which were known not to to call it, a 'cunning plan' that might see them through.
Instead, he'd carefully considered the problem and come up with, as he liked someone with a hunter's mindset would concoct. Abitani's 'cunning plan' was clearly identifiable as something that take kindly to strangers without suffering grievous bodily harm or -- far more likely -- being killed, the Darkspear had not responded with something along the lines of, "You be crazy, mon!" as a normal person might have. The blue-skinned troll had taken a page from his own experiences when crafting this scheme look at an orc, two Forsaken, a bear, a demon, and a troll lying on the ground was a mite unreasonable. However, he'd reasoned, while a lone troll playing dead might not attract overly unwanted attention, expecting no one to take a second level, which had led him to Noggenfogger and his elixirs.
The feigning would have to be taken to a more convincing which essentially boiled down to feigning death whenever a silithid patrol drew near. Six skeletons of an orc, two Forsaken, a bear, a demon, and a troll lying on the ground was a different story, especially in might just work, and working it was. In other words, Abitani's plan was so crazy it of Hive'Ashi, carefully noting their descent through the eerie, maze-like tunnels so they could find their way out again quickly. "I still can't believe this is actually working," Gorakinos whispered again disbelievingly as the group of mercenaries explored the subterranean world light of how dangerous Silithus was, and if it didn't work they could always fallback on fighting tooth and nail for their lives.
They rounded a cluster of eggs each larger than a fist which glowed a luminescent filled his mystical senses with dread. There was a taint to these creatures that his mind had contemplated the saying a bit further, "Unlesh ya plan on eating the horsh, of courssssh. "Don't look a *hic* gift horsh in the moush," the skeleton that was Maggotface the Glutton retorted amiably, adding after orange in the darkness, and the shaman felt a chill run down his spine. Then you wansh to look a' the moush and every other *hiccup* parsh of the beasht and insulted by the suggestion that any part of him was of inferior quality.
"Grrr," the four-legged bony ursine walking beside them growled, quite proud of its plagued condition that that would be the last sight they ever saw in this world. Besides, if anyone looked at JuJu in the mouth, it was pretty much guaranteed to makesh shure it doesn't have the plague becaush ta plague spoilsh the meat." "Dun worry, da warrior didn't mean anything by it," a kind." He chuckled good-naturedly as JuJu playfully tried to bite his skeletal hand off. "Ju be da strongest bear in d'ese parts, and I'm sure dat your flank be one o' JuJu I know!"
"Ha, dat be da Abitani reassured his pet in soothing tones. "Incoming!" Terminos warned urgently, and almost immediately everyone dropped to the ground and pretended to be didn't take a closer look at the deceptive pile of bones. A few seconds later three verdant winged sentries flew by and, as hoped, was no longer required so stop complaining and shut up already before we replace you with newer, healthier lungs purchased from the Royal Apothecary Society. The living held their breath until the patrol was out of sight, while the two Forsaken reminded what remained of their lungs and respiratory system that oxygen dead which, because they appeared to be skeletons, was about as easy as it looked.
JuJu was the first to rise, and soon the party was back on its feet and other than Abitani, and the troll was busy keeping his ursine companion calm and not attacking anything that looked even slightly aggressive. Terminos took the lead because he was only one he trusted to stay focused and not alert the entire hive to their presence animals of the decaying land fleeing to the Alterac Mountains, a testament to the enduring memory of the bear's early life. JuJu took challenges to his authority rather seriously, and his mere presence in the Plaguelands was enough to send the usually belligerent, maddened moving through the tunnels of Hive'Ashi as quietly as six rattling skeletons can move. Over an hour passed, and still the mercenaries' descent into darkness continued, with only the sinister glow of of adventurers hadn't retraced their steps, but each chamber was different and almost tauntingly beckoned them on.
The tunnels twisted and turned so often as they burrowed into the earth that it seemed impossible that group quiet as they walked. The party of skeletons was unusually the increasing number of silithid egg sacs and menacing ambience of the hive to guide their way. The warlock's insults were for once absent, the shaman's musings were silent, Abitani kept their normally ebullient spirits and resenting any out-of-place noises. Hive'Ashi and its mysteries weighed heavily on the travelers, stifling and humans were not meant to see.
This was an alien world that races like orcs his thoughts and observations to himself, and Maggotface felt no desire to sing. Finally, though, they rounded a corner and at that it had ever been tampered with was a small wooden chest decorated by Stormwind's crest. Sitting where it had been left on top of the pile of dead cultists with no signs to shout from sheer joy. Seeing it, Gorakinos resisted to the urge last spotted the object of their search.
The end of their quest was on the side to make sure this wasn't a trap. Slightly suspiciously, Terminos walked over to the coffer and tapped it lightly anything that looked like his torment might soon be over. After having spent so much time with his insufferable partners, he suspected at last in sight. Nothing happened, and he released barely above a whisper.
The dark arcanist's next words were don't get . "Gorakinos, grab this chest and a sigh of relief. We still need to bring it back the warlock with mirth. The orc shaman gazed at worried, Terminos.
"Don't sound so to Orgrimmar in one piece." Finding the chest was should be easy." The rest of this journey at the natives' willingness to challenge fate, and performed the cosmic equivalent of turning up the volume. An inconceivable distance away, an indescribable entity of incomprehensible power once again stirred, turned its attention to Azeroth, boggled the hard part.
After all, why pass up what would purpose as clear to him as the air he weaved through. The Windreaver sensed the approaching forces of the Cenarion Circle, their numbers and to meet the oncoming enemy and swiftly chose a course of action. The aspect of the elemental that comprised his intelligence sorted through various tactics surely be a good show? The logical thing to do would be to fortify this position and wait for the druidic order and refused to stand still.
Wind was not a patient element through, and, whether gentle or aggressive, embracing everything in its path. It rushed from place to place, going around what it could not go to come to him, but such a plan went against the very nature of Al'Akir's servant. Unhesitatingly, the Windreaver gathered his minions and rushed forward across the elemental general's roaring gale reverberated with notes of pleasure and eagerness. Very soon now, the sounds of battle would fill the air, and the the chest firmly held in the skeletal grip of Gorakinos.
The Freelancers and their warlock associate reached the surface without mishap, shifting sands of Silithus, leaving a storm in his wake. Finding their way out of Hive'Ashi had proved much quicker than finding their way through it, the Cenarion Hold, and once they reached the friendly (unless you were Maggotface) encampment the return trip to Durotar should be a breeze. All that stood in their way now was the hive's sentries operating above ground and the miles of hostile terrain that lay between them and things took a turn for the worse. Naturally, then, it was at this moment that and the few patrols they'd run into continued to be deceived by their feints.
Reacting on pure reflex, the party dived to the side and narrowly avoided the sands as Abitani sprang to his feet and performed a series of intricate side-steps as he reached for his bow. Constantly moving so as to evade a follow-up barrage, Gorakinos sequestered the chest under his armpit and slammed a Windwall Totem into his magical energies to counterattack with a fury of dark spells. Terminos, less agile than his partners, stayed low to the ground and summoned the onslaught of arrows that flew through the air towards them. Maggotface and JuJu were already moving forward in a zigzag pattern, retracing the trajectory of the arrows, and battlefields, a haughty, infuriating figure whose image had been painfully seared onto the minds of numerous orcs, trolls, tauren, and Forsaken.
Standing at a comfortable 41 yards away was a sight that had taunted and antagonized countless warriors of the Horde on far-flung drew another set of arrows from his quiver as his giant white cat growled aggressively. Bow drawn and already stepping backwards to keep a distance between them, the night elf hunter they simultaneously issued screams of unadulterated rage once they spied the lithe form of their attacker. Maggotface and JuJu, their vision turning red in response to this maddeningly familiar adversary, doubled their pace and covered the distance between them in a few swift bounds, much to the surprise of the unfortunate hunter who soon learned to were upon him and his pet, and much violence and pain ensued. Before he could issue an apology or even utter a word the furious duo over to the scene and forcibly pulling the warrior out of the ruckus.
"Maggotface, JuJu, stop! We don't have time for this!" Terminos shouted warningly, running his further surprise as the magic of Noggenfogger's Elixers vanished in response to the hostile actions that the two Scourge minions he'd shot were in fact not servants of the Lich King but an incredibly angry Forsaken and bear. Next to him, Abitani had a much easier time calming down his looked around worriedly. Gorakinos joined them and hatefully, struggling to free himself from the warlock's surprisingly iron hold. "Let me at 'em! Thash elf deserves to die!" Mafo spat bear who'd released his frustration on the now unconscious feline.
"Give me one goosh reason why warrior and gestured expansively around them. In response, Terminos let go of the count over a hundred good reasons right now, personally!" "Take a look around and see for yourself! I can I sshouldn't killsh 'im!" Despite himself, the undead mercenary followed his companion's eye sockets widened comically.
As he did so, his sunken looked like a growing army of the sinister insects was gathering on a hill behind them. Drawn by the noise and sounds of battle, the silithid had converged on their location and what advice and looked at their surroundings. Their gold, green, and blue carapaces shined as the sun's rays reflected off their colorful Maggotface answered solemnly. "...Okay, yoush convinced me," any more cunning plansh, Abi?"
A little more hopefully, he asked, "Gotsh shells, and for a moment Mafo was blinded by their numbers and brilliance. "Yah mon, jus one," the mouth and opened his mouth to shout. He cupped his hands in front of his LIVES!" "RUN FOR JA hunter answered smoothly.
They did so, trampling over the hapless also barreling over the distressed kaldorei. The silithid followed, those not in the air made relatively easy by the state of his battered, injured body. The hunter, rather wisely, decided to feign death right then, a feat night elf as they fled. "How long do you think they'll continue chasing us?" Gorakinos asked anxiously, clutching the chest with his left arm as turned and scowled.
Keeping pace beside him, Terminos out by now, you idiot! Honestly, what _are_ you thinking?!" "Maybe if you'd drop Earthbind instead of Stoneclaw Totems we'd have found that he ran, powerful green legs enabling him to keep up with Abitani's innate speed and the Forsakens' undead endurance. The shaman spared a look behind him and on the Stoneclaw Totem, reducing it to splinters and shards in less than a second. As he watched, half a dozen silithid drones detached themselves from the pursuing legion and pounced ice through his hand to Frost Shock one of the monstrous insects that was pulling ahead of the rest of the host.
"I suppose Earthbind might be a tad better suited for this situation," he conceded begrudgingly, raising his free arm and channeling the power of searched for the last totem he'd planted. "Less talking, more running and fighting mon!" firing arrow after arrow at the silithid whom he never took his gaze off of. Having mastered the art of sprinting backwards, the hunter was putting his skills to good use and wandering Anubisath (Gorakinos preferred not to wonder how the bear had taken down something three times his size in a tenth of a second and was instead for now merely thankful). In front of the fleeing party, JuJu was mercilessly and swiftly dispatching the desert's normal hostile denizens that threatened to get in their way such as spiders, dredge worms, and the occasional Abitani shouted from behind them.
Maggotface brought up the rear with shield and sword in hand, facing their pursuers as he ran and doing an small and inconspicuous as possible while lobbing fireballs as his master channeled the powers of shadow. The imp Noktog was doing what he did best, standing on his master's right shoulder and staying as in retreat and cover each other's backs, but chances are that they'd be running for their lives too. Had there been any observers present, they might have been impressed by the group's ability to coordinate their actions amazing job of deflecting their projectiles and slicing off the appendages of any that came too close for comfort. The silithid weren't known for mercenaries began to pull ahead, and the rampaging silithid gradually receded from view.
Still, through sheer panic, determination, and enough totems to trip a small army, the ears pricked up as he heard a distant and unwelcome shout. Seeing this, Abitani released a sigh of relief, but then his sharp making distinctions between targets. "There they are! ahead and scanned the horizon. The hunter turned so he was facing robes approaching dispelled the ebullience he had begun to feel.
The barely discernable vision of a sea of purple and blue cultist Kill them all!" "Change course! We got Twilight friends o' better!" Terminos shouted sarcastically, veering to the left. "Great! Today just keeps on getting better and direction only added to his frustration. What he saw drawing closer from that yours approaching us at 12 o'clock, mon!"
"By Kil'jaeden's horns! Turn around and go the anywhere at all found their path blocked yet again by the approaching sight of a fully armed garrison of the Cenarion Circle's best soldiers riding panthers into battle under the standard of Commander Mar'alith. Now running from the silithid, the Twilight's Hammer, and the Windreaver's followers, the Freelancers and warlock who had decided to shadow bolt Gorakinos in the face the next time the orc asked him to go looked around for a sign of salvation. The mercenaries came to an abrupt halt and other way! We've got elementals approaching!" It wasn't and Mafo da one behind ju and I take da one in front..."
"If ju take da army on our left and Terminos the one to da right if he was crazy. They all looked at Abitani as forthcoming. In response, the troll hunter grinned ready to summon an infernal. Terminos sighed, soulstoned himself, and got the reagent as if his life depended on it...which it probably did.
Gorakinos reached into one of his pouches and withdrew an Ankh of Reincarnation, holding and practiced feigning death. Maggotface grabbed the canteen attached to his belt which he'd filled with a drink from Sinjo exchanged glances. Noktog and JuJu back which he figured was probably the safest spot he could be right now. "That is so unfair!" the imp complained bitterly, phase-shifting and leaping onto the plagued bear's before the pandaren took his leave and imbibed its alcoholic contents in one swift gulp.
JuJu, unafraid and appearing eager, roared and readied himself for combat, the only legions arrived from the north, south, west, and east. And then, heedless of anything except their targets, the four soon become a chaotic battle of epic proportions and almost certain death. With varying degrees of enthusiasm, the Freelancers and their companions charged into what would confusion he felt coming from wondering which foe he should attack first. "And den what happened?" the troll priest known as Golli asked inquisitively, listening to the story intently from where left was Ignus, a bald Forsaken mage with pale skin that was remarkably intact for one of the undead.
Sitting to the Darkspear's right was a dark tauren warrior who was tall even for his race, and to the troll's wooden surface and occasionally emitting a groan of pain and the orc with bloodshot eyes and skin more blue and black than green. Terminos and Gorakinos sat on the other side of the table, the warlock hunched over with his head supported on his arms on the he was seated around a sturdy but slightly stained wooden table inside the Orgrimmar Legitimate Businessmen's Club. Noktog was standing on the table and quietly munching twinges of agony in his bruised body. The shaman shuddered, the motion eliciting several sharp he asked pointedly.
"What do you _think_ happened?" on pretzels taken from a nearby bowl. "There were silithid to the left of me, mad cultists to the right, and there I was stuck in the middle with my erstwhile companions as two separate armies of night elves and elementals rushed each other! Ignus blinked. of incredulity in his voice. "Worse?" he spoke curiously, a note It was total mayhem, pure and simple, with everyone trying to kill everyone else and so many bodies everywhere that it was impossible to tell who was doing what! And then...it got even worse."
"How is it possible for a situation grimly, twin orbs glowing with a penetrating, unholy light. Terminos weakly raised his head and gazed at the mage he answered simply. "Nelson the Nice walked by," like that to become even worse?" Then, exhausted, his head fell back onto questioningly, sounding slightly amused.
"Nelson the Nice?" the tauren repeated so bad..." "That doesn't sound the table with a loud thud. "That'sssh *hic* becaush you've never met 'im, Drauka!" Maggotflace slurred, spinning around on he was going to send to Ishtallah during one of her saner moments. Behind him, Goremug silently refilled the Forsaken's glass, mentally adding another digit to the bill curved upward in a semblance of a conspiratorial grin.
The undead warrior tilted his head and his upper jaw the bar stool he was on to face the impromptu gathering. "Yoush see...Nelshon tha Nice ish actually a content JuJu in the center of the bar, nodded his head. Abitani, from where he was tiredly leaning against the sleeping form of a bear, the party having agreed that the ursine beast probably provided better security than even the club's safe. The chest over which they'd worked so hard to acquire was on the floor in front of the plagued demon! Ishn't that right, Abitani?"
"Jah mon, dat Solenor da Slayer, a nasty dreadlord." Nelson da Nice also be known as ardent kaldorei, _and_ a demon?" the tauren, Drauka, summarized, holding back a laugh. "So you got caught up in a battle between sinister bugs, rampaging elementals, crazy cultists, be correct. "Dare I ask to look at the slumbering figure of JuJu.
As one, Gorakinos, Terminos, Noktog, Maggotface, and Abitani all turned eyebrow. Ignus raised an who won?" "I see," he remarked passively, adding with a sudden smirk, "but I to hold it for more than a second. The shaman glared at the mage but lacked the energy tersely, sarcasm pointed enough to sharpen an axe.
"Your powers of observation astound me," the green-skinned mystic muttered take it the rest of you didn't fare so well?" "I can tell that nothing he shouted, voice coloring with anger. Of course we didn't fare so well!" It's a miracle that we're still alive, let alone feeling well enough to talk to you!" "We were surrounded and outnumbered on all sides with arcane, fel, and divine magics flying through the air! escapes your incredible perception.
"Whoa dere," Golli interjected, raising still more of the story to hear," he spoke calmly, faint Zandali accent barely noticeable. "Let's not let our tempers get the better of us here, neh? After all, there's continue." "Please, do his arms soothingly. Gorakinos took a deep breath last, a glazed over and distant look in his eyes as he remembered the recent past.
"It's not worth the effort to describe the battle once the demon showed up," he said at of it, and I was smack in the middle of that chaotic mess. "So much happened so quickly that even I can barely make heads or tails and slowly relaxed. Suffice it to say, though, at the end of it JuJu was the only ourselves up as best we could we found our mounts and rode straight to Valor's Rest." Afterwards, the rest of us somehow managed to alternately limp and crawl to safety, and once we'd patched happened and Maggotface's less than stellar reputation with the Cenarion Circle we figured we'd be better off staying out of their stronghold in the interest of self-preservation."
"I wanted to go back to the Cenarion Hold and get proper medical treatment," Terminos grumbled sullenly, words slightly muffled by his sleeves, "but between what had just one still standing and even he looked like he'd seen better days. "And it worked out well enough anyway," the shaman remarked after a moment's pause, decided to spend the night at the small encampment too. "As it turns out, Navigator and Napili were nearby in Un'Goro and a portal to Orgrimmar for us. We met up there, and they graciously opened sounding pleased for the first time since he'd started telling this tale.
In another stroke of good luck, Sablehawk and Lorilei were in the Valley of Spirits when we dynamite waiting for our client to show up so we can finally get rid of this parcel!" And...well, here we are now, with splitting headaches and looking worse than an engineer's workshop after experiments with Club swung open and a vision of eternal splendor entered. As if on cue, the door to the Orgrimmar Legitimate Businessmen's got back and persuaded a couple people to help cart us back to the Club. Threnody D'usque now wore a black silk dress instead of the skintight jumpsuit Gorakinos promise of pleasure, and figure an enthralling picture of the utmost sensuality, she drew all male eyes to her with more force than a celestial body's gravitational field.
Alabaster skin brilliant and inviting, alluring raven hair an irresistible temptation, azure eyes an ocean in whose liquid, mesmerizing depths one would willingly drown, blood red lips a luscious she sashayed over to shaman and warlock's table, a smile of dangerous knowledge playing across her entrancing features. The lovely Forsaken woman icily ignored the stares and catcalls directed at her from the corners of the bar as had first seen her in, but she was as mind-bogglingly beautiful as ever. "Well done, Freelancers," she said approvingly, leaning down over the patrons, stayed where they were and watched the scene unfold in silence. Drauka, Ignus, and Golli, possessing more self control than many of the club's other business dealings, after all.
It wasn't polite to interrupt another's table so she was at eye level with Gorakinos. "I heard you recently returned with like to see it." Before we discuss payment, though, I'd him of the abuse he'd taken to fulfill their contract, coldly pointed to where JuJu lay sleeping. The shaman, lust drowned out by the aggregate frustration generated by his recent ordeals and aching body constantly reminding my chest in your possession.
A look of desperate hope crossed the lady's face as she turned, an expression and he made a decision. Seeing this, the orc's curiosity grew, it over," Gorakinos spoke as Threnody turned startled eyes on him. "I think we deserve to know what's inside the chest before we hand quickly replaced by pleasure as she saw the mostly undamaged wooden box. "My friends and I went through untold agony, searched through the shifting sands of Silithus, and nearly died _several_ times to bring this know what we risked our lives for.
The least you can do is let us Terminos?" Isn't that right, coffer back to you, and I'd rather jump through a portal leading to the Great Dark Beyond than accept this contract again. The battered warlock looked up with bleary "That's right. so I can use it against Gorakinos and preclude any possibility of being asked to work with him again."
If there's some sort of mystical artifact of unbelievable destructive power in there, I want to be the first to know eyes and slowly nodded his head. Almost too fast to see, Threnody's bewitching face went from surprised to angry container?" she asked with sinister mirth, smirking. "You really want to know what's inside the me. "Fine with and annoyed before finally resolving itself into an expression of amused cruelty.
Bring it over here and I'll open it, but be warned of that. "We'll be the judge requested, now even more curious. Abitani? If you would?" Gorakinos that I dont think you'll like what you see." The troll hunter, having listened to the conversation and also wondering what his party had retrieved, rose, very carefully picked up the chest in sides, tapping several indiscernible indentations in the wooden structure to deactivate the lock.
Threnody wasted no time, reaching for her coffer almost hungrily and gently tracing its passed their expectations grew and their thoughts turned to treasure, jewelry, weapons, and magic. As Gorakinos, Terminos, Abitani, and the others seated at the table watched and the seconds front of JuJu, and brought it over to the table where he set it down and assumed a guarded stance next to Ignus. Surely something with such a complicated security mechanism would be valuable? Finally, with a quiet click, the lock came undone, Me Murloc doll. Inside was a blue Tickle anticipation shatter into a thousand shards.
One could almost hear the atmosphere of and the Forsaken beauty turned the chest so it was facing the warlock and shaman and raised the lid. Abitani blinked furiously, trying to make sense and simple. Gorakinos was livid, pure outraged, slamming his fists against the table. "We nearly lost our lives for _this_?!" he screamed, of this new piece of information.
Watching from the bar, Maggotface swallowed the contents with varying degrees of restraint. Golli, Ignus, Drauka, and Noktog s******ed behind him now that Outland was closer, glowered. Terminos, exhausted and with his breaking point so far of his glass in one gulp. "None of this ever occurred," he said has just been one very long nightmare.
"As far as I'm concerned, all of this the Twisting Nether!" Outburst finished, the warlock decided to escape from the cruelty that was reality and fainted, head colliding with the table with another loud thud. Our trip to Tanaris and everything that happened after that is a story that never happened, and I'll send anyone who mentions this contract again on a one-way trip to direly, daring anyone to contradict him. "I told you that you wouldn't like learning the truth," Threnody remarked haughtily, rising to thanks of my daughter too." "Still, you have my thanks and second time in as many minutes.
"Daughter?!" the orc mystic exclaimed, shocked for the her full height and gazing down at the mercenaries with a teasing smile. His beautiful client gave him a pointed look as if to say, 'What? With a body like this did you really think I was single when alive?' Gorakinos tried for mortals to behold. Some things were too glorious eyes filling with a tortured madness. "Yes, my daughter," Threnody repeated, tone darkening and picturing what the woman might've looked like when she was still human and before her first pregnancy and had to fight to prevent himself from joining Terminos in unconsciousness.
"My lovely daughter who, thanks to the plague, is still in her terrible twos more than two years after her second birthday! My cute sweetie who has since becoming undead not gone a single day without asking for her cherished Tickle Me Murloc doll! My precious child owe you?" "So...how much do I what he'd just learned. Gorakinos gaped, mind reeling from against whom all the horrors of the Undercity pale in comparison and who motivates me to take revenge against the Scourge for making me a single parent forced to endure this unending torment!" Realizing that she was beginning to rant, the Forsaken collected herself and smiled sweetly. The time they'd spent, the sacrifices they'd made, the humiliation and pain they'd experienced...it had all been for one cute plushie da consult, madam.
"We jus' need a moment arm and pulled him over to the bar counter where Magggotface was. We be right wid ju." He grabbed the orc by his right for an undead whelp? Abitani, taking the news in much better stride than his less experienced partner, chuckled once. Quietly, he asked, "What seems like a Gorakinos remained unresponsive. Mafo shrugged and hiccupped, and before he could suggest any numbers the orc bartender Goremug leaned over and joined the conversation.
The hunter sighed and contemplated what a fair price for retrieving a children's doll might be, but good price to ju two?" "I think I might have an and vindictive smiles crossed the mercenaries' faces. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said it, stool around to face their patron. The Forsaken warrior acted first by spinning his idea," he interjected smoothly.
He leered ashk that in a-kuchange for oush servishesh you paysh my tab." "Ashter careful *hic* conshider...der...ashion? Yeah, conshiderasssshion, my friiiends an' I only questioned, frowning contemptuously at the drunken fighter. "You want me to pay your bar tab?" Threnody lopsidedly. She considered this for a moment doesn't sound so bad.
"Sure, why not? That it?" How much is and nodded her head slightly. "WHAT?!! ARE YOU OUT guttural laughter coming from one of the club's many corners and turned to investigate. As the mercenaries and their client haggled back and forth, Goremug heard a string of unfamiliar a closer inspection revealed nothing and he chalked it up to a trick of the imagination.
For the briefest of moments, he thought he saw a tauren clad in an assassin's leathers, but OF YOUR MINDS?!!" After all, everyone knows that tauren story. And that's the it have enjoyed the tale. I hope those who've been reading rogues do not exist.
Bloody good story dude, i spent 6 your in the fictional novel industry. Im verry ****ing impressed and i hope that i wouldn't have to kepp my computer open all night long! You are talented, dude! I actually printed 56-pages of the story (57-total) so hours at school reading it lol. Man, that Abitani is your masterpiece!
Anyways congrats on keep printing. Kepp writing and i'll such a goofball... I keep reading freelancers every nite
b4 going to bed! Yowza...