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(Collaborative with myself and Jaylik)
The cultist made sure to wear more normal clothing when in Silvermoon, her Master paid her well to make sure when he did not return that certain arrangements were in place and his soul shard was kept in a safe place with his remaining daughter. However, when she was brought to her half-sister, it put a hold on the original plan. She was to retrieve the shard and take it to the contact at the Apothecary Society. Now she needed to wait and make sure she could gain access, but the home was warded well, the Priest that resided with her also had ties to the Society from her information which made things more difficult.
Weeks passed before an opportunity presented itself, she had made mental notes of Lady Talibah’s coming and goings as well as Lady Karomana’s who was normally escorted, she was less accessible, but the diplomat was quite different and preferred to so about things on her own. It was mid morning, the box the Lady held was one familiar to her, and it held the shard. A wry grin fell upon the hooded woman’s face and she made haste to follow. En route behind she made sure she had what was needed if she had to ambush the Lady, however when the destination was reached she realized it would be far from necessary, now she had to wait.
“How predictable.” The cultist mouthed as she watched Lady Talibah toss the gilded box into the Nether. She watched the noblewoman turn to leave without even waiting to see if the box fell into the void, her dark eyes caught a glimpse of her master’s mark between the woman’s shoulders, and she smirked knowing his vengeance would come full circle.
Now to retrieve what she came for, the box landed on a floating rock not too far below where the Lady threw it, with some rope from her pack she walked to the ledge the Lady was at and secured one end to a piece of rock that jutted out and the other about her waist then swung down to the floating rock below. In one fluid motion she picked up the box and secured it before climbing back up. Now to Undercity and to meet her contact, they would have much work to do to bring her Master back.
The Forsaken wrung his hands in anticipation. The correspondence he received was brief and vague yet the sense of urgency had him on edge. He paced the floor of the dimly lit room as he awaited the arrival of word.
Gloinar had held is reservations when he was first contacted long ago by a servant. He was told one day his service, and his loyalty, would be required. Coins had exchanged hands and a slow trickle of them had continued to make their way to his boney fingers still, but it never seemed to be enough.
Gloinar wanted more. He wanted more than just coins; he wanted the respect and adoration of his peers. He wanted his fellow members of the Apothecary Society to finally acknowledge him as one of their equals; No, not equal but as their better. He wanted his due and with deals he had struck long ago, he knew he could twist the arrangement to get exactly what he wanted.
The cultist swiftly made her way through the tunnels of Undercity. She pulled her cloak tight as not to allow the hood to fly back, but held a box beneath the long cloak tighter. The discovery of her identity and her affiliations where a minor thing in contrast to what she now carried within her arms, a second chance. A slight grin graced the corners of her mouth as she thought of all the possibilities the box held for her but first, she needed to speak with her contact in this cesspool of a city.
“Gloinar Shadowblight.” The woman stated more than asked as she stood cloaked in the doorway of the dimly lit room. Looking up from his small desk, the Forsaken gave a hard stare at the hooded figure. “Who wants to know?”
Walking into the room, the figure stepped to the side of the Forsaken and parted her cloak. Producing a small box, she placed it carefully upon the desk. “It is time to prove your loyalty.” Looking from the woman, who now drew back the hood of her cloak, to the box, Gloinar’s rotting face could not hide his look of confusion.
Keeping her eyes focused on the box, she gently caressed it as if it were a lover. With a hiss, the woman spoke to the room, “It is the master’s essence and it is time for his glorious return!”
Slowly blinking, Gloinar looked at the box and recognized the seal branded upon it. It was the same seal that adorned the flow of coins that lined his pockets upon occasion. Reaching his boney hand over to the box, Gloinar began to slowly lift the lid.
A lady’s hand shot out and caught his wrist, “Careful you fool, the contents of this box are worth more than your miserable existence!” Looking at her hand then slowly up her arm to her face, the Forsaken gave a frown, “Do you want my help or not fleshling?”
Seeing his reasoning, the woman reluctantly released his hand as he slowly lifted the lid to reveal the glowing shard. “We must prepare the sacred host for our master’s return!” The woman exclaimed. “We will need a blood elf, yes, that will do nicely!” The cultist absently rubbed her hands together as Gloinar lowered the lid of the box and shook his head.
“It is beyond my means to secure such a vessel. It would take much time and more resources that are at my disposal.” The cultist’s eyes narrowed and her face reddened as she snapped her gaze to the Forsaken to her side. “What do you mean?! You were given ample coin to build a base of operation to be used for the master’s plans!” The woman practically screamed. “What have you done with the coin that you have been given?!”
“There have been complications. It has not been easy for me to establish my work here and keep it …” A backhand from the woman stopped Gloinar’s excuse mid-sentence. “Fool! I do not want your excuses! Just do as you have promised!”
*The full post can also be found on sistersofelune.net
by Jaylik » Sun Mar 11, 2012 9:44 pm
*Cross posted with Jay's permission)
(( Thanks to Tali for cleaning up my crayon marks. ))
Gloinar watched the cultist storm from the room, her anger clearly visible upon her face for all to see. The funds he had been provided over the years had disappeared and now he was being held accountable. Options, he needed options here. His irate visitor was determined to have her master brought back but the amount of coin needed to acquire the proper vessel would be substantial, unless…
A slight grin found Gloinar’s rotting face as a plan began to form in his mind. He knew that his visitor would be less than pleased with the execution, but could not argue the end results. Looking around his small room, the Forsaken began gathering items and hastily placing them in a satchel. Pausing as he reached for the ornate box that contained the soul of his ‘benefactor’, Gloinar’s boney fingers carefully lifted it and placed it among his other items in the satchel. Yes, he would do as he was bid, but under his own terms. Letting his grin lead his way, Gloinar began his journey to Deathknell; a vessel must be found.
“Such incompetence!” The cultist fumed as she left the Forsaken’s room. “He was paid well and when the master arises, he will not be pleased!” A small grin absently found her face as she envisioned her master’s glorious return. The things that they would do! And he would look favorable upon those that are loyal to him. The cultist’s grin turned into a toothy smile, “And he will punish those who were not!” Her eyes glinted as she mouthed the words and thought of the pain and suffering her master would give to those that opposed him. And chief among them, Lady Talibah, the master’s own treacherous daughter.
The journey to Azshara was uneventful. Taking great care to hide her appearance as she made her way through the Orc’s city, the cultist shuffled along with the other masses of travelers, hiding in plain sight. It would not behoove her to be seen and questioned, there was too much to do in preparation of her master’s return. Soon, soon there would be no more hiding. For when her master returned, she, and others like her, could throw back their cowls and stand tall and proud upon the necks of their enemies!
Her mind was still teeming with the possibilities that would present themselves when her master had arisen when she strode into the hidden tower that the master’s daughter had used as a laboratory. As if cold water had been splashed onto her face, the cultist awoke from her musings as she looked around the room.
“Nothing?!” the woman screamed to the empty room. “That wench! She shall pay!!” Her eyes wide and livid, the cultist franticly strode through the tower, searching for anything. Nothing, there was nothing of any use or value left in this tower that served as a laboratory here in Azshara. The cultist’s mind quickly thought about her master’s other home in the Ghostlands and worried that it had suffered the similar fate.
She had to get all the proper things in place and went to Azshara, and paused when she noticed nothing was there. The equipment, the scrolls and tomes were all gone. “The wench took it all!” she screamed into the tower that served as a home and work area for her former master when he was not at his other home in the Ghostlands.
Banishing the thought in the form of another shriek, the cultist’s keen wailed through the empty tower. Years of preparation had been looted and she would not be undone by these disobedient children! Her mind reeled as she sprinted up the steps to the top room of the tower. Frantic hands searched the walls to find a hidden stone plate. Eagerly, she pressed it hard with both hands. With a grating sound of wood against stone, the bookcase to her right slid away to revel a dusty set of robes and an iron bound trunk.
Gathering the robes, she gave the trunk a quick examination. Uttering the word to trigger the magics that surrounded the chest, the cultist smiled as she heard a satisfying click. Her smiled widened as she began examining the contents of the trunk. The tome and all the materials needed were still there. With a sigh of relief, she closed the lid of the trunk and spoke a word to once again lock the trunk. Removing the trunk from its resting place with a grunt, the cultist looked around the room. Thinking it best to cover her tracks, she, once again, pressed the stone near the bookcase to watch it return to its original location.
“Now,” she grunted aloud, “to get this back to Undercity!”
“Is all ready?” the cultist asked again as she paced back and forth in the room looking at the covered form that would soon hold the soul of her master. “Again, ‘not yet’.” Gloinar said with a sigh as he looked to the others in the room.
“Are all these other needed? Why can you need all of these others?” the cultist asked as she gazed at the other figures in the room as they saturated the covered body with various items from the trunk she had provided.
“Because,” Gloinar sighed, “your master’s instructions here are quite clear. They are needed.” Looking up from the body, he noticed the look of envy upon her face as she watched the others prepare and massage the corpse under the sheet.
Continuing her pacing, the cultist began muttering to herself. There was nothing she could do and she had never felt as helpless as she did now. The hour of the master’s return was upon them! And he would reward those loyal to him. He would be especially grateful to her, his most loyal servant. Pausing, she once again looked to the covered form upon the table.
Once raised, the master would need all the comforts of the mortal world. A certain longing arose within the cultist as her mind began pondering the possibilities of the needs her master would have; and how she could fulfill them.
“We are ready.” Gloinar’s voice snapped the cultist from her ponderings. Waiting and watching, the cultist’s pacing resumed.
Words of power, strange words, emanated from the group before her as she watched the master’s soul shard placed upon his covered form. Excitement began to well up deep within her as her fingers began to twitch in anticipation. Dark magics swirled around the room as they pooled into a vortex centered above the body upon the table.
“Yes!” the cultist shrieked as she saw the covered body begin to convulse with a life of its own. The group’s chanting arched into a crescendo and the cultist’s hairs stood on their ends as the magics continued to swirl faster and faster.
With a sudden flash of light, the inhabitants of the room were knocked to the floor. Blinking to clear her eyes, the cultist sprang to her feet and rushed to the side of the table that held the smoldering body of her master.
Elation surged through her very being as the form slowly rose up into a seated position. Elation that quickly turned to horror as the sheet fell away to reveal the rotting face of a Forsaken body. A hand shot out, grabbing the cultist’s arm and halted her retreat. Confusion and hatred found raged through her eyes as she glared hard at the form of Gloinar upon the ground.
Seeing her attention elsewhere, the newly raised Forsaken tightened his grip upon the cultist’s arm and gave her a rough shakes. “Where…?” the cultist’s eyes went wide as she saw the amount of hatred shining in her master’s eyes. "… are my daughters?!”
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