Baerythan's Ashes (Closed/IC)

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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((Bump don't want this to fall to page two now do we:3))

The huntress worked on clearing out a group of the undead large enough that she and the death knight could run through. Soon, they had an opening large enough.

“Go!” she called out to the death knight, running forward through the gap in the undead line, dropping a frost trap along the way.

She wasn’t going to wait for the woman to run through first. The only way that she knew the woman followed was that she could see her out of the corner of her eye. No longer in danger of being surrounded and overwhelmed from all side, the two women were able to work their way through the horde. The trap she had laid was triggered and a large sheet of ice covered the forest floor, slowly the moment of the zombies and making several slip and fall down. They were trampled by their comrades who were intent upon reaching the two women all the while the huntress worked on plinking off their numbers one-by-one.

Hemmingway kept several that had made it past the trap at bay from reaching the hunter, the cat snarling and growing at the corpses, not truly understanding what he was fighting. The creatures quickly surrounded the cat. In an effort to ensure that the night saber lived through the attack, the huntress laid an ice trap, freezing one corpse in place before aiming another shot, disorienting another before working on picking off the remaining three.

To her left, she could hear the death knight’s blade swishing through the air as the woman rather skillfully worked her way through the mindless hordes. Already numerous bodies were piling up at her feet. Feliathae didn’t turn her head to watch the woman fight, she didn’t want to see what tactics that the woman used, even on mindless zombies. Some things were better left unknown.

When it was all said and done, the forest floor was littered with the rotting bodies of zombies and Feliathae was nursing several jagged wounds on Hemmingway, ignoring her own various scratches on her face and arms.

“Good boy,” she quietly crooned to the cat, who was still on high alert. “You must be so confused,” she scratched his ears and rubbed his neck, working on calming the beast down. “You did wonderfully out there.”

In a few minutes, she was able to calm the cat down, but she took several extra to avoid looking at the death knight. She wasn’t certain what she would find when she looked over—blood, pieces of the corpses, missing parts from the death knight, did death knights eat corpses?—and wasn’t certain that she wanted to know. But they had to move on so with some reluctance, she turned her head to address the woman.

“Everything alright?”

The priest wasn’t moving, but with the satyr’s attention firmly fixed on the warrior, the man was no longer in danger. Out of the corner of his eye, the warrior could see that the druid had intercepted the other satyr.

“You have no idea what true power is!” the satyr hissed at the warrior. “I have tasted it and claimed it! You are too much of a weakling to hold such glory!”

Balanad gave the demon he was facing off with a toothy grin, displaying his long, pointed canines, much like a cat’s. “Then you can taste metal,” the warrior slammed his sword into the satyr, cutting off its monologue, which was boring the elf, “and tell me who the weakling is.”

The satyr wheezed at the impact, stumbling back slightly before leaping forward and slashing at the warrior in rage. “Your head will make a nice addition to my collection!”

Balanad moved back, leading the satyr away from the priest and the druid. He didn’t want Ash injured and he wanted to give Sam time to subdue the other satyr without this one taking notice of what was happening.

“I’m flattered!” he grunted as the satyr’s hand landed against his chest, the long talons leaving marks in his armor. “I just intend to leave your corpse to the scavengers.”

The satyr snarled in response and swiped again, this time his claws meeting the warrior’s face, drawing two red lines of blood as Balanad narrowly jumped out of the way, still leading the satyr away from the other two men, using his swords to make small jabs at the demon, trying to keep his attention.

“A weakling!” the satyr crowed. “Pathetic weakling!”

Once he deemed that they were far enough away, the night elf showed his teeth again. “Not weak,” he said quietly before he swung the blades down rapidly, cutting into the satyr’s shoulder. “I wanted to make sure that we won’t get interrupted.”

Suddenly, the satyr realized that he had been led away from his companion. “No matter, I don’t need Zexeran’s help in taking you down!”

He lunged forward and was met by Balanad’s swords as his strike was parried and followed with another swift and this time, deep cut that left the demon bleeding profusely. Several more cuts and the demon fell to the ground.

“Maybe you did need help,” Balanad muttered as he wiped his blades off on the demon’s fur. “Speaking of help…”

The warrior turned and ran back to where he had left the druid and priest. He gave the priest a quick glance to make certain that the man was still standing before he turned and looked at Sam. “Everything under control?”
The Ruins

Zara watched with an amused smile as the two women mowed through the hordes of undead, but she could already feel that her Master had replenished their lost forces. Standing up on her perch she clapped slowly, "Well done ladies, impressively done, you are definitely worth my Master's time to kill, and who knows perhaps he will be gracious enough to raise you as his undead slaves. I do regret though, that I cannot stick around and chat, but my Master calls for me, and before you think about it, I do not work for Ziantov. My Master desires the Ashes for his own purposes, you just happen to be in the way, it also doesn't help that one in your group my Master desires dead. I will leave it to your imagination to who that might be, until we meet again farewell," with those words she faded out of sight. She returned to her Master, and kneeled at his feet, he stroked her head illiciting a purr, of satisfaction, "So how did it go Zara?" The succubus smiled, "It went well Master your brother has surrounded himself with some powerful allies, they will not be easy to defeat," Illisadel smile, "well it wouldn't be as entertaining if it was easy."


Sammuroth was shaking a bit when Balanad returned, the demon had come so close to taking over, and that had shaken the cat like nothing else ever had. He put on a smile, "Everything is perfectly under control Balanad, this one was easy enough to subdue," he indicated the still cowering satyr. "Ask whatever questions you wish I am sure he will be forthcoming," he gave a pointed look at the satyr, letting him know that if he didn't there would be hell to pay. Once again the demon stirred, but the druid quickly supressed it, he would not allow it to get so close again, "So my friend what is our next move, after you interrogate the satyr of course."
Pathetic! PATHETIC! Ashel opened his eyes, looking up towards a sky partly blocked by the branches of trees hanging overhead. For a moment, the priest had no idea where he was. A noise startled him from his thoughts, forcing him to sit up and look around. Balanad...right! He was jumping to his feet just as the Night Elf started to lead the Satyr away. Should he chase? What good would he do in the situation, he had already proved that he was somewhat useless.

A sigh escaped his lips and he reached into his robes, grasping the prayer book. He clutched it between his fingers and muttered a small prayer to the Light for strength, for guidance. It was then that he remembered the other, Sam. His gray eyes roamed over the area, spotting the druid nearby and he took off in that direction. As he drew closer, he could feel that....presence again, he had no other way of describing it. By the time he arrived, it was gone again.

Ashel looked down at the druid, then away, not wanting to see the look on the cat's face, though..there probably wasn't much of an expression there.."I..." He shook his head slowly and turned to see Balanad returning. "Sorry..I didn't mean to." His cheeks burned with embarrassment , with shame. He could only stand and clasp his book tightly between his fingers enough to 'cause his knuckles to whiten.
The death knight offered a growl, her eyes gleaming as she hacked her way through, and when the broke through, she left the one ghoul she had claimed as her own to his own devices, within reason, leaving the ghoul to dig through corpses to his heart's content while she spun a dismembered limb around idly, and then dropped the rotting hand to focus on the night elf.

"Everything all right?" Came the other woman's question, and Allaynna shrugged rot-covered shoulders and offered a wolfish grin, "All's well here." She runs her hand over the gash in her neck, just above her collar bone, from a claw. With a small shrug, she produces a vial of stagnant blood from a pouch and smears the liquid over the gash, fingers dancing with unholy magic as she seals the wound, then wipes her bloody hands unceremoniously on her tabard.

Producing a roll of more mundane bandages, she crouches by the huntress, offering the roll of cloth to her, the cloth smelling like it's been soaked in antiseptic, "You people lose limbs from scratches like that," she murmurs, her brow knitted as she thinks, and then produces a flask of what smells like straight liquor, "Unorthodox, but it should accomplish what it needs to..."

With a small smile, she holds out both the flask of liquor and the treated bandages, "Take care of yourself and your cat, and don't miss anything, if it festers, I don't have anything I can do for it. I'm made to maim not mend."

She shakes an arm, dislodging pieces of gore and rotten flesh from her armor, and then returns her gaze to the ghoul she had forced under her control, searching it for something, but what is unclear, before she grunts a string of soldier's expletives and waves a hand, letting the corpse crumple to the ground, putrefying rapidly as the necromantic magic loses hold.

"So my friend what is our next move, after you interrogate the satyr of course."

“Once we are done here, we will rejoined Feliathae and Allaynna and put our heads together over what information we found before we move out again.” He didn’t add that they would most likely be staying the night in the Crystalsong Forest; he did not want the satyr to overhear their plans for the night. While he had every intention of killing the creature, he did not know if any others were watching them.

He turned to the priest, “Are you alright? You look pretty shaken.” He gave the man a shrewd look, speaking softly, “Do you have much experience in fights?”

He was wondering if he should have insisted on taking a Priestess of the Moon with them instead of the worgan priest. It was too late to turn back now, the warrior knew. Ashel would have to get over freezing in a fight, since there was at least one more coming their way.

Balanad turned his attention to the satyr, who was still cowering by the druid, his fel green eyes firmly fixed on the cat.

“I am going to make this simple,” the night elf said succinctly. “I will ask the questions, you will answer them. If I think you are lying to me, I will start cutting parts of you off. Understood?”

The satyr looked at the tall warrior, trying to decide if he was a greater threat than the druid. Slowly he nodded, baring his teeth in a sneer.

“Another satyr came through here not too long ago. I want to know how long ago he was here.”

The satyr glanced at the druid before answering, “Almost two days ago.”

Balanad nodded. “Was he alone?”

The satyr shook his head no.

“Well… what was with him?” Balanad tapped a finger on his sword.

“Three other satyrs and a pair of imps,” the satyr said in a rush, his gaze fixed on the sword. He had no illusions that the night elf would not carry through his threat.

“Did he leave here by portal or on foot?” he slid the sword out of its scabbard.

“Foot… he used what magic he had to get here quickly,” the satyr offered up, watching the sword.

“Do you know what he was after in the ruins?” the sword, unsheathed, came to rest pointing at the ground.

“A highborn spell…” the satyr tried to back away from the night elves. “I don’t know what it was exactly…” his nasally voice trailed off in a whine.

That wasn’t news at all. Balanad was hoping for a bit more information concerning the spell itself. He leaned forward, “One last question.”

The satyr inhaled sharply, knowing that once the questions were finished, the night elves would kill him. He knew that they would not let him live just out of principle, the wretched purple creatures.

“Did he have an urn with him?”

The satyr nodded his head slightly before turning it sharply towards the ruins as if something had caught his eye. Balanad shifted his gaze for a moment, making certain that there were not other satyrs approaching. In the split second that the warrior was distracted, the satyr quickly rolled to his feet and sprinted away from the trio, not looking back over his shoulder to see if he was being followed.

“Damn it!” Balanad snarled before giving chase.

Sammuroth listened to the interrogation only half heartedly, it was too busy keeping his mental defenses up from the demon inside of him. The satyr seemed not to know much anyway, aside from what they already suspected, the only new intel they got was that the satyr was not alone, and travelling on foot. When the satyr fooled Balanad to look away, and jumped to his feet the cat just watched as the warrior gave chase, he had no real desire to kill the satyr. He had at one time after all been a Highborne, just like the druid, and alone the satyr was no threat, he was sure Balanad would catch him, and end his life. The cat said a small prayer to Elune for his corrupted kin, he also prayed that his death would be quick, no creature deserved a torturous, and painful death, no matter how evil they may be.


The dark robed figure of Illisadel Shadowfury, sat in the high backed chair, in his little base in the ruins, stroking Zara's head, as she kneeled at his side, purring contentedly. A felguard entered the room, and saluted, "I bring news of the satyr Master," Illisadel waved his hand telling the demon to continue. "It seems he has left the area on foot, we have a few of our imps tracking him, by all reports it seems he found what he needed here." The sorceror sighed, "Do we have any indication on where he might be headed," the demon shook it's head, "unfortunately not Master." Illisadel stood up, Zara clinging to his body, "No matter, get our forces ready to leave, we will follow the trail our imps leave us," the felguard saluted, and left. Illisadel looked down into Zara's face, illiciting a smile from the succubus, before he leaned down, and kissed her, "Go, and see that our forces are prepared my dear." Zara nodded excitedly, and ran out of the room, "Soon dear brother our reunion will take place, and I will have my vengeance, heh heh heh HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" The mad sorceror's laughter echoed throughout the ruins, the darkness behind that laughter sent every creature in the area scurrying to hide.

Feliathae murmured her thanks to the death knight when she dropped off the alcohol and bandages. She finished with the cat, who had stood patiently and stoically through the process before regarded the proffered items for a moment before digging into her pack for some healing herbs and salves. Carefully she cleansed her wounds and smoothed the salve over them before binding them with the bandages. She wrinkled her nose; she smelled like a cross between an alchemist’s and an herb shop.

“What do you think that demon was speaking of?” the huntress asked as she worked, ignoring the shower of gore that fell from the death knight as she shook herself off. “Master? To kill us? Do you think she means the satyr we are chasing?”

The huntress had been set to fire a volley of arrows at the demon who had spoken those words, but the creature had faded away too quickly to even get one shot off.

Once she had finished tending to her wounds, she handed the remaining alcohol and bandages back to the death knight with a murmured word of thanks.

“Let’s get moving again before we end up with another surprise,” the night elf said, picking up her pack.

The Ruins of Shandaral rose up before the two women like ghosts. The tall white buildings took on an unearthly appearance, glowing softly in the dim light that filtered down through the tall trees. The bluish purple cast of the Unbound Thicket made the entire place look unworldly—both beautiful and sinister. The ground was littered with rubble; crumbled stone that had been weathered away combined with twigs, weeds, and ivy that was growing rampant over the ground, curling over anything that it could. Shadows fluttered in the ruins, giving them a haunted appearance.

The huntress picked her way across the ruins, careful as to where she set her feet lest she turn her ankle. Beside her the cat agility moved over the landscape, unconcerned with its unevenness. His keen gaze was roving around the area with curiosity. Occasionally, he would glance over at the hunter, her presence reassuring him.

“The nymph said to the southeast, didn’t she?” the huntress said, lightly hopping over some fallen pieces of masonry before jumping up easily on a broken pillar.

She looked towards the southeast, seeing the remains of three buildings. They would probably end up searching all three and she absently wished that they had brought a mage who might know what they were looking for.
Ashel stood, clenching his prayer book, his eyes locked ont he ground rather than having to experience the look he figured Balanad was giving him. "I' I'm just a wandering healer, I don't see too muchin the form of fights, especially not with creatures of that sort." He gestures towards the Satyr, gazing at it, curious and somewhat afraid. He shook his head and sighed, "I'll do better next time, I promise." He noted the injury that Night Elf suffered to his face from the Satyr and lifted his hand, a light glow encompassing his fingers as he waved them. "That should do, the wound isn't so serious." He smiled briefly, happy that he actually had some use to them..for the moment, anyway.

As Balanad turned to interrogate Satyr, Ashel turned to look down at the druid. "Are you harmed in anyway," His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, he probably should've remembered his name but his mind was in turmoil. This was the closest to death he'd been since..the Worgen attack. A noise behind him caused him to turn, his eyes widened as he saw the Satyr fleeing. Instinct, something told him to do something and he reacted almost instantly. "Shackle!" He cried out at the top of his lungs, chains of light materializing from his hands to lash out towards the Satyr as it ran.

While Balanad had no love for satyrs, his wanting to kill this particular satyr was a matter of the mission they were on. He did not want this satyr to bring his friends to come looking for their small band nor did he want the satyr to contact Ziantov that they were already on his trail.

He almost stopped in surprise when the shackles sprang up around the demon. Certainly, the demon was surprised. It was a quick matter to cut the creature down.

He returned to where the priest and druid stood. Turning to the priest, he asked, "Did you put up the shackles? Smart move." He took out a cloth and gave the blades of his swords a quick wipe down before sheathing them.

"Lets head back to the Mirror," he said. "Hopefully Feliathae and the death knight won't be much longer."

The two women had the longer task, he knew, but he figured that it was the easier of the two. He led the way back to the camp, blissfully unaware of what had already befallent he women.
Sammuroth had for the most part recovered from his small ordeal with the satyr, enough so that he saw the last moments of the satyr's life, he winced slightly as the warrior cut the satyr down. He had never enjoyed killing satyrs mainly because ten thousand years ago they had been his kin, they had been of the Highborne, but he knew that Azeroth was better off with every satyr that was killed. He nodded in agreement with Balanad's compliment to the priest, "A smart move indeed, perhaps there is hope for your use in battle after all," the cat did not mean to sound harsh, but he had seen too many people killed because a comrade hesitated. He followed after Balanad as they began their trek back to the camp, he hoped that the two women were alright, and had had some success, but something tugged at the back of the druid's mind, he couldn't help but ge the feeling that something bad had befallen the two women. He shook the thoughts from his mind, I am sure they are just fine, they can handle themselves, at least that was his hope.

The huntress crossed a rubble strewn courtyard, picking her ways towards the first of the three buildings. Stepping inside the building, she was greeted by dim light and debris. The building was mostly empty and a staircase leading up to the second floor had fallen down. Finding nothing that even remotely looked like arcane writings, she exited the building and moved to the second one.

The second building proved to be more promising than the first. Remains of books lined the walls, most of which had mildewed and rotted. Books were strewn across the floor as if someone had had a temper tantrum. The staircase leading the second floor was intact, but other than what appeared to have once been a bedroom, there was nothing left. A search of the books yielded nothing.

Another staircase was found though an archway, this one leading down. She peered down into the darkness before rummaging in her pack for a light source. She wondered if death knights could see in the dark. Lighting the torch, she made her way down, moving under the first floor and through a door that stood open. She could hear the steady drip of water echoing from within. Looking at the floor, her heart quickened when she realized that this area, protected from the elements by being underground, had a thick layer of dust. Shining the torch, she noted tracks… cloven hooves to be exact.

“Here we are,” she murmured, carefully entering the room. While she did not think there was anything waiting for her there, she did not want to be surprised.

This room held more books and scrolls, the majority of which were molded and beyond repair. The air was heavy with humidity and smelled of mold, stale water, and old stone—not a pleasant combination. She looked over the area, which seemed far more pristine than what was above it until she found something that looked as if it had been disturbed—several books piled up on a table whose layer of dust had been disturbed. Several pages had been torn from the books which were left open.

“I think this may be what we are looking for,” she said aloud.

Carefully, she gathered up the books, the writings strange and unfamiliar to her, and hoped that someone would be able to understand the books. Otherwise, this whole thing would have been for naught.


Balanad had led the way back to the Mirror of Twilight and was now looking over the area trying to determine the best place to set up their camp. His gaze was drawn towards the Unbound Forest several times, knowing the Feliathae was somewhere in there. She was capable enough, he reminded himself, not like her sister. Not needy… not coy… and all those years ago, not interested in him. He wondered off and on if she had been at one time or could have been if it hadn’t been for her sister. Feliathae would rather roll over and walk away verses take her sister head on.

If she had faced her sister, maybe his life would be much different… happier.

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside for now. There would be time later to lament losing his opportunity all those years ago and time enough to decide if he should try to make a new one. He raised his eyes towards the moon, a comforting sight when he noticed the birds hovering over the Unbound Forest.

“What the…” he blinked before calling to the druid. “Sammuroth! The birds! What is happening in there?”

His gaze went back to the strange blue tinted forest, wondering with more than a trickle of unease what had happened in there to stir up the animals. A myriad of scenarios went through his mind, but the seasoned warrior did not guess that the cause of unease for the birds had been the undead attack. He just knew that it was not a good sign.
Sammuroth had been worrying the entire trip, he knew the two women were capable, but that little feeling in the back of his mind would not go away. Could they have run into Ziantov, or something just as sinister, these old ruins were notorious for housing the long departed spirits of their former residents. He ran through many different scenarios, every one of them increasing his concern, he was brought out of his sontemplations by Balanad's call. Looking in the direction the warrior pointed, his face fell, those were not just any birds they were carrion birds, creatures that survived of the corpses of the dead. Hiding his anxiety he spoke, "As far as I can tell it seems they are gathering for a feast, perhaps a dead animal they can pick clean, but so many for just one animal is unusual. Something may have happened what that something could be I couldn't begin to contemplate, nor do I wish to," he looked pointedly at Balanad his eyes conveying his concern for the two women. Perhaps I should listen to my bad feelings more often, something has clearly happened, I only hope they are alright.
Allaynna Kidrain

The death knight had nodded, taking the alcohol and downing it neatly, and then packing the empty flask and the bandages into her pack before following the night elf silently, easily, her breath nonexistant. Nodding where needed, she followed the huntress into the ruins, eyes roving constantly, vigilant against any threat.

Her lack of breath made the odor of molded paper and wet stone no obstacle, and as the huntress collected the books, she spoke slowly, "Someone's been here. Grab what we need and let's go. I can carry the books if you need me to, just... Get out."

She was clearly on edge, and it took a lot to set Allaynna on edge, but something about the room had her bothered, "Feliathe... I don't like this. Let's go."

Balanad watched the birds for a moment, digesting what the druid had told him. Carrion birds.. that did not bode well, especially since they had not been out when they parted with with Feliathae and the death knight.

"I am going to check it out," Balanad said to no one in particular. He took off heading towards the circling birds worrying over what had garnered their interest.


Whatever was making the death knight uneasy, she was not going to question it. She stuffed the books quickly into a bag and slung it over her shoulder, wincing a little when the heavy load collided with her back.

"I am going," she said heading towards the door. The memory of the undead attack was still fresh in her mind and she did not want a repeat of it.

She led the way out of the building and ruins, leaping her way over the uneven ground. Once clear, she breathed a sigh of relief and picked up her pace, moving through the eerie forest with ease.

The clattering of carrion birds caught her attention as they neared the spot of the undead ambush. While she had planned to steer clear of the area, the bellowing of a familiar voice drew her towards it.

"Feliathae! Answer me!"

It was Balanad; he had probably found the corpses of undead littering the ground and wanted to know if she was still among the living. She spared a moment to wonder if he was was worried about the death knight before motioning to the other woman.

"Lets go find him," she said. "Otherwise he will spend hours out here looking."
Sammuroth decided it was better if they stayed together, and the carrion birds had him worried as well. These thoughts in mind he followed after Balanad, he caught up to him shortly afterwards, all around him the cat could smell the stench of death, and decay, and it was too strong to come from the Death Knight. " What happened," he questioned out loud, "could Ziantov had laid a trap?" When the warrior started calling for Feliathae the druid scanned the trees, for any signs of ambush, ocassionally calling for the two women as well. He ran through the possibilities in his head, with this much stench it had to be undead, this isn't the smell of freshly slain corpses, but can the satyr even control the undead. There is of course the possibility that it could have been undead that already inhabited the ruins, but we should have heard something about that in Dalaran. There were too many questions, and too few answers, and the druid didn't like that, he preferred to know before hand what he was walking into, but in this case his group knew nothing. He continued to call for Feliathae, and Allayna, anxiety creeping into his mind, what had they gotten themselves into?

Returning to the area of the undead ambush was as unpleasant as Feliathae thought that it would be. Hemmingway, padding along quietly behind her growled softly as he expressed his unhappiness.

“Balanad!” The huntress called. “Over here!”

It was not long before Balanad appeared, leaping easily through the forest. His face was a mixture of fear, confusion, and concern.

“Feliathae!” He pulled her into a tight hug before abruptly letting her go. He wasn’t certain how she would react to such a gesture. “What happened?” He pointed back to where the piles of undead lay, “When we returned to the camp, we saw the birds circling and became worried. We found the scourge… did they attack you here?”

The huntress nodded. “A succubus appeared and sent them after us. Something about her master wanting to know if we were a worthy challenge. Apparently we are. Could her master be Ziantov?”

Balanad shook his head, “I don’t know. It might be something trick that he is using to slow us down; he is not too far ahead of us. Let’s go back to those undead and see if there is any clue there as to who this ‘Master’ is.”

Reluctantly, the huntress returned to the area littered with the remains of the scourge corpses. Slowly, she helped pick through them, wrinkling her nose in disgust but not finding anything useful in identifying who sent them.

“Nothing,” she told Balanad, who was calling for everyone to meet up and return to the Mirror.

“I didn’t find anything either,” he said before turning to address the death knight and druid. “Did either of you find anything?”
Sammuroth breathed a sigh of relief, when Fliathae, and Allayna appeared, thank goodness I feared we may find their corpses along with those of the scourge. As Feliathae explained what happened the cat grew concerned, "A succubus the satyr we interrogated didn't say anything about a succubus, could he have been mistaken about what Ziantov was travelling with? I suppose there is also the possibility he lied, but I highly doubt it, fear is a good motivator to tell the truth, and that satyr was terrified of us. There is also the possibility that there is someone, or something else on Ziantov's trail, but who else ould want the Ashes?" The cat pondered for a moment while Balanad, and the other's looked for clues, the Ashes were a powerful magical artifact, they could probably be used in any number of spellwork. However, no one else should know of the Ashes theft, " That leaves the possibility that perhaps we have been spied on, but by whom," he whispered to himself.

He absentmindedly scanned over a few of the scourge corpses, he didn't see anything obvious, that would provide any clues. Not that I expected anything different, it's not like those who use the undead brand them as their property, the druid sighed in frustration, and clawed at a nearby corpse. His claws ripped through what remained of the corpses clothing, and his heart stopped at what the tattered clothing had been hiding. A crest, that showed a burning moon, the cat stepped back in horror, "It can't be it's impossible," he said aloud. The cat was sweating profusely, and if he had been in his natural form his skin would have been white as a ghost, his eyes were opened wide in shock, and horror. Nothing else registered with the cat, the other's voices faded into the background, only the crest dominated the druid's world. He continuously muttered, "It's impossible," the cat continued backing up, if the other's hadn't noticed his strange behaviour it wouldn't be long before they did. Why was that crest on the undead, he had thought he had seen the last of it with the collapse on Zin'Azshari, except for the one that hung over his fireplace, in the home he rarely lived in, the crest of his family, the crest of the family Moonfury.

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