Day of Ashes (IC)

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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"Surely you can't be serious about this. Household soldiers?" Greymane glared at Strykman. "Mercenaries?" The baleful gaze shifted to Alarei. "We are talking about the conquest of an entire continent, and you want to bring in your own personal troops?" Both of the nobles gazed back at Greymane, entirely serious.

"Give me the Shieldwall soldiers to supplement my own forces and two battalions of the Stryker's guard, and I can have the entire continent in our hands within two months." Not to be outdone, Alarei broke in as well.

"Let me deploy the Blood Crows in full force, and Pandaria will be ours by the end of this month."

Greymane leaned back in his chair, somewhat surprised at the vehemence in the two nobles' voices. The canny tactician considered the situation, then came to an agreement he believed would satisfy everyone.

"What if we did this. The Shieldwall forces will focus on pacifying the Krasarang Wilds and the southern half of the Jade Forest. The Blood Crows will have responsibility over the northern half of the Forest and the foothills of the Kun-Lai mountains, while the Stryker's Guard will take the Valley of the Four Winds and the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. If you can agree to that, I will support you, but on one condition: at no point will you hinder the Pandaren defense of the Wall. If they request your support, you will give it to them. Are those terms agreeable?" Both Strykman and Alarei murmured their assent.

"Is that plan of action acceptable, Your Highness?" Anduin nodded sadly, a recognition that his first major act as King was likely to be one the histories would not remember him kindly for. And this meeting wasn't even half over.

"What is next on the agenda?"

Two Days Later
Outside of Booty Bay

All was quiet on the bridge of the stolen gunship: the sun was shining brightly, there were no clouds in the sky, and even the jungle creatures seemed to have fallen silent as though they recognized that this was a near-perfect day and didn't want to ruin it. The silence was abruptly shattered by the sudden appearance of the image of a six-inch-tall man in grey-and-green armor, slumped over something out of view. The magitech communicator crackled and then words started coming through.

"Emergency, emergency. This is Outpost Rho Lambda 008," the man rattled off a series of coordinates that anyone with knowledge of cartography would recognize as leading to a location about thirty kilometers off of the southeast coast of Booty Bay. "Requesting assistance. We have come under heavy attack by an unknown force. Anyone out there, please respond. I repeat, emergency, emergency. This is Outpost Rho Lambda 008..." The message repeated twice more, then abruptly cut off mid-sentence on the third repetition.
Adrian stood at the console, scowling. Others had joined him to exchange words with the General. Adrian gripped the console with all his strength, his leather gloves straining against his knuckles.

"Everyone please get to the lower deck and get some rest. I'll set a course for Booty Bay." he said quietly to those still near him. He was frustrated with the situation. He felt that he was better to get fooled like this and it weighed heavy on him. He thought of the General's words over and over again in his head. Having the audacity to try coercing them to turn themselves in just to be killed.

Adrian let his head hang slack a moment, taking deep breaths before standing up straight and trying to compose himself. He let go of the console and flexed his hands a moment. He flipped several switches and turned some dials, setting the course direction for Booty Bay. The ship gently began to turn so the others wouldn't be too strained to stand. He pushed forward the accelerator lever and gained them a little more speed for a comfortable trip.

He turned and leaned over the back of the ship, looking down to the passing scenery. All he could think about right now was his brother and that he was ok. Maybe he'd find him back home and be reassured, but for now, all he had were his thoughts.

~I long for home, for that peaceful place I knew on Draenor. Before the fighting, the wars, the 'Horde', and all that followed. What cursed deed did our ancestors commit to force our race to be subjected to such cruelty and callousness that runs rife in this world!?

They're all dead, and the image is burned into my mind as if branded with hot steel. I can't shake the image of that foul 'Moloch' pulling the trigger in an event that I am certain has just shattered the world. I can only be thankful that Velen had not heeded the call, though I often wonder if he had foreseen this tragedy before it's time. He did, after all, foresee the fall of our city Shattrath, and with it our kind's near extinction.

I wish there was more we could have done, though no matter how I play it though my mind, I cannot see a better out-come. They were many.... far more than I care to know. How they hid them from our eyes is a mystery, but that is a question that is far out-weighed by others. For the moment, I can only wonder what we do now, that we survived... And in light of Moloch's threat, who do we now trust? Even my own are turned by their deceit.~

The old leather of her journal creaked as Kialla shut it, staring hard at the creased binding. She truly wondered who they could go to with what they'd witnessed. Three weeks of musing over it and she still hadn't made up her mind. It didn't seem the others were too certain of what to do next. Perhaps in the goblin-run town in which they would arrive some enlightenment would be made.

Standing, she made her way out of the hold and onto the deck. She was no longer clad in the heavy plate, for damage to both the breast-plate and the greaves had made it rather unpleasant to move in. She wore instead the uniform she'd stolen. She feared it'd make her more recognizable if Moloch had scouts about, but what choice did she have? Any rummaging through spare clothing in the hold proved only to have cloth of the human and elven nature... both of which were much to small to fit in even a remotely normal fashion. To live in a world of midgets...

Booty bay was in view, the rickety-looking, but surprisingly sturdy buildings starting to form shapes against the mountainous backdrop behind the cove. Though the General's threat was ever-present in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. It would be good to get onto the ground again.

She rubbed her hand against her leg as she walked across the deck, feeling the raised mark that Zherami's mace had left. Though healed, the scarring would remain for some time. Even with the aid of magic, some things were simply forced to run the course nature intended. Unfortunately, scars were one of them, it seemed.


-Booty Bay-

though the salty, briney smell that hovered over the port was like a thick smog to Major Conant's nostrils, it did little to bother the aging paladin. Normally, he would be complaining about the stench, both of the sea and of the goblins, but today was different. It had only been a week now since word of the peace summit disaster got around. Though he certainly felt Prince Anduin was fully capable of stepping into his father's place at the head of the kingdom, the loss of Varian was still heavy.

And now he, with a few soldiers beneath his command were traveling to Fort Triumph. With no apparent leader in the horde, Conant figured it might be best to keep at least a token force within the structured complex that made up the fort. It was only a day or so from Orgrimmar and Thunder Bluff both, but not so close as to cause worry.

"Perhaps it's for the best."

Nathaniel's voice spoke aloud, breaking the silence of the empty room. His own voice sounded hollow in his ears, and he knew it was a vain attempt to find some solace in the tragedy. He wasn't sure what to make of it, to be honest. Yes, Garrosh had been dethroned, but certainly was not worth the price paid. It seemed whomever these assassins were, they did not consider the dire consequences that might occur. However the cards had been dealt, and now the whole of Azeroth seemed to suddenly be holding its breath.

Sunlight streamed down from the cloudless sky as the paladin stepped out of the rented room. The air was hot and humid, the same miserable climate that he found so volatile every time he came here. Why they couldn't charter a ship there from the bay in Stormwind was beyond him. Not wanting to arouse suspicion was a completely imbicilic response. And now they were stuck here for two more days before their ship would be ready to sail. Two more days of hot and miserable.

He wound his way down the plank walkways towards the dock. There was a half-decent place to obtain food there, the goblins there prizing themselves in imitating some of the cuisine from Stormwind. It was good, though there was still a distinct difference between the two.
He paused outside of the restaurant, glancing out at the waters of the dock. There were few boats out in the water, swaying slightly in the currents and waves driving the water.

Something caught his eye though, and Conant paused as he watched a shape forming in the sky off in the distance. A ship...engineered to fly apparently. He wondered what wierd shenanigans the goblins were doing this time. A bit amused, he stood to watch as the strange vessel started arriving.

After several weeks had passed

Adrian walked up the stairs to the console. They had been flying from Pandaria for almost three weeks now. He was simply dressed now. Wearing just his pants and a grey tank top. His goggles sat around his neck and his rifle leaning against the control console. He would leave his equipment in the lower storage area and was only primarily armed with his revolver.

He was still quite stressed about the safety of his brother, but that would come in time. Right now he had a ship full of survivors on the run to think of and get to safety. They could all handle themselves, but he was the one that had to get them to where they needed to be. He hadn't slept much at all these past three weeks, focusing more on piloting the ship and making sure everyone was comfortable. The fatigue was evident on his face but he refused rest most of the time.

Looking off the bridge, the vague outline of Booty Bay and Stranglethorn vale could be seen. He adjusted the course of the ship slightly in a more appropriate heading and upped the speed slightly. He turned and jumped down the stairs, walking to where everyone else was on the ship.

"Booty Bay and Stranglethorn are starting appear in view. Should be there at the end of the day. We can begin to figure out what we'll do when we get there. I'm not sure how safe it will be so, be ready for anything." he said to the group. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his face, his beard growing in more fully in the weeks since not shaving.
Sammuroth Stormfury lay in his bed, to say he was in a bad mood was an understatement, he was angry, his anger bordered on fury. He was angry about eveything that had happened, he was angry that he couldn't take vengeance for his Malfurion and Tyrande, and he was furious at himself for still being layed up. They had been able to heal his outer injuries, the cuts, and bruises, but his inner injuries were another story they did not have and experienced enough healer to heal his broken bones. So for the past few weeks he had been stuck in this bed, his anger slowly festering, he couldn't help with anything, and his feelings of uselessness angered him. Everyone was trying to figure out who they could tell about what happened, the druid knew they were being too optimistic, if it were him in charge of this organization he would frame the escapees for the attack.

It was good strategy to give the people someone to hate, and if he was right there were wanted posters up, and people already looking for them. He had to get back to Teldrassil, or the Moonglade, his druid brothers, and sisters knew him, and knew he would never do something like this. Even despite knowing how he felt about Garrosh, and Varian, they knew it wasn't in him to commit such a slaughter, or be a part of one. All of this built up inside of him, and finally he had to let it out, in the form of a small roar, but in the enclosed ship it would be heard everywhere. The action caused him great pain, but he didn't care he was past the point of caring about what happened to himself, he knew letting the anger fester inside himself only fed the "other."

After he let out his frustrations he felt a little better, but his feeling of uselessness remained, he had barely seen anyone in the last few weeks, and for the first time he was beginning to feel lonely. " Oh, well it's not like I am not used to feeling lonely, considering I spent the majority of my life alone," he knew his words were a bluff. As he lay there alone in the room, he began to wonder if his adoptive daughter Lori was alright, and is perhaps she, and his friend Dalfein looking for him.
Bryah paced the deck of the gun ship. They had been on the ship for about two and a half weeks, and she was getting bored. Her mind was running out of things to keep it occupied. Taking care of her animals had provided some distraction in the beginning, but they had been fully healed for a week and a half, needing only the basic care after that.

Blaze had gotten into the habit of catching fish for his dinner when they were over water, giving his wings some much needed exercise. Lycaon however, was finding it difficult. The wolf was used to walking long distances each day, and the enforced inactivity had caused him to start pacing the length of the ship, for several hours each day. Bryah really couldn't blame him. She herself was longing for the chance to go hunting, even if it was just to serve the purpose of getting fresh meat.

Her wanderings took her past the control area. Adrian had pushed himself to get them to safety and the strain was showing. He hadn't shaved in almost three weeks, but even the growing beard couldn't hide the signs of exhaustion. Bryah went to stand bedside him and spoke his name to grab his attention. “Adrian. Go and get some rest. You're exhausted and can barely stand. Kialla can take over for you for a few hours.” She grinned widely, then continued. “Besides, you wouldn't want to greet the ladies of Booty Bay looking like something the cat dragged in, would you? Of course you wouldn't, so go and get some sleep.”

Sandara watched as Bryah paced around the deck. It was hard to see her daughter acting like a caged animal, but she could understand it. The death knight was struggling to keep her own unholy hunger in control. She often had to resort to attacking a ghoul to keep the hunger sated, but she knew it was a stop gap measure, at best. The sadistic part of her nature that enjoyed causing the agony she needed to survive was trying to take control. If that happened, there would be little chance of mercy for the first sentient being that had the misfortune of crossing swords with her.

She looked towards the east, trying to spot the first signs of land and hoping, for everyone's sake that they would reach land soon.
The sea below them and the confined space was taking its toll on Sydric. He knew that they had to land soon, their supplies were running low and he was glad he did not need to eat. But he had a hunger of a different sort. His restless pacing led him from one end of the ship to the other.

He knew that there had to be a way to find out what was happening in the world since they had escaped. The more he thought about the transmission from the General, the more he was convinced they would not be met with anything welcoming. Not for the first time he was reminded of the insidious control the Lich King had held over the death Knights and the Scourge. If this cabal had far reaching powers and managed to convince enough people of their guilt, he was sure they might have stood a better chance in Pandaria. At the very least he would be able to sate his hunger on the animals of the continent.

His only relief had been to spar with Sandi from time to time. At least they could heal each other and not cause anyone further injuries. He was becoming increasingly restless everytime he passed the druid laying on the bed he had to grit his teeth and refrain from staying near him as he suffered. The rest were healing nicely and he felt fine himself except for the hunger.

Finally he went to the only place he could sit alone, a spot where he could watch the ocean pass below him. It was near a hatch that led to the outside. He gripped the hilts of his axes and tried to meditate. But thoughts of what awaited them when they reached shore would not let him relax. He wondered if Sandi felt the same way he did?

The call of Adrian telling them they were nearing Booty bay brought him to his feet and he went to see if any of the others shared his concern. He hoped he could keep his urges under control. The sooner they landed and he could find something to kill the better.
In the deep of the jungle, the heat was oppressive. Waves of the warm humid air bore down on any foolish enough to travel with the sun still up. Any living fools, that is. Beneath the heavy canopy, a lone woman rode her horse. She wore a full, hooded set of caster’s robes, and underclothes beneath. But even in such garments, the heat didn’t seem to bother her in any way. For the answer as to why, one only needed to look upon the pale, dead face hidden in the shadows of her hood. Or even to her horse, a burning, undead monstrosity.

Marella Aaron had arrived at the Grom’gol Base camp via a zeppelin from the Undercity and had since struck a path southwards, through the Cape of Stranglethorn, down to Booty Bay. It would be only a few more hours away, if her map was at all accurate. This vacation of hers had been a very last-second affair, a means of escape from her stressful life in the ruins of Lordaeron.

She always hated when Victor, her long-time friend and colleague, had to leave for Society business. While she had the occasional outing herself, Victor Cross the Necromancer- being one of the best and brightest of the Royal Apothecary Society- went almost every fortnight, gone for days at a time on classified business. And now he was supposedly going to Pandaria for over a week!

So with him away and the foreboding news of a disastrous peace summit on her mind, Marella had decided to take a break from it all, and Booty Bay had seemed as good a place as any. Let those brutes in Kalimdor sort out their quarrels on their own, she had thought. What did it matter to the Forsaken anymore? They and the elves would be better off without those savages. A part of her knew that such a think wasn’t entirely true, but it was no concern of hers to look after.

The goblin town of Booty Bay was just as close as her map had foretold, and it wasn’t more than two hours before it came into sight. As it came in to view, the corners of Marella’s mouth turned upwards. Finally she would have some time to herself. No more delicate potion crafting, no more of Victor’s reminiscing about those happier times with the Cult of the Damned- their definitions of “happy” seemed to differ greatly- and no more worrying prophecies of doom that seemed to pop up as often as the sunrise. It was just Marella, a few choice lengths of precious cloths, a tailoring kit, and two weeks of relaxation.

“I just hope it doesn’t get too boring,” she thought to herself.
Adrian sat silently, staring into the distance. His hand still rested on his chin. It only recently just hit him how his beard had grown in fully in the weeks of flight. He seemed to be staring off into space. Lost in thought.

After what seemed like ages, he heard his name. Startled, he snapped to standing upward and his hand instinctively went for his revolver, locking the hammer back and his finger moving for the trigger. He went to strike with his free hand but soon realized it was Bryah. He squeezed his eyes tight and released the hammer, trying to relax himself. He seemed almost braindead for a moment before collecting himself and realizing what he almost did.

"I- I'm really sorry. You just sneaked up on me." he stammered out. He looked around a moment while she talked, she was suggesting he get some rest and let someone else take control of the ship.

"I'll be fine. I've done it this long and I've been through a lot worse. Kialla was badly injured so she needs more rest than I do." he shook his head in protest, "We're almost to Booty Bay. Once we land I can scout out the area to make sure we weren't followed and then we can figure things out from there." he said. He rubbed his eyes and tried to lighten up a bit, "besides, I heard women like a nice beard." he said and winked to Bryah. He turned and began walking back up to the control pit to monitor their progress to Booty Bay.
"besides, I heard women like a nice beard." Adrian winked at her as he walked back to the controls of the ship. “We do, as long as it's well looked after and not scraggly.” She watched him at the controls for a short while, looking for any signs that his fatigue was affecting his ability to pilot the ship. Her next comment was said so quietly that even an elf would have trouble hearing it. “Shame you're a human, that beard almost makes you look handsome.”

The Farstrider walked away cursing in Thalassian about stubborn humans who didn't have the sense to know when to take a rest. Bryah passed Sandara and saw the knowing look on her mother's face. “Don't even go there Mother.”

Sandara watched as Bryah walked to the prow and rested her arms on the railings, looking out into the emptiness in front of them. Something was not right. Her daughter didn't normally brood. She made her way up to Bryah and rested on the railing, facing her. “Want to talk about it?”
She shrugged and continued looking out into the empty sky in front of them. “Nothing to tell really. I'm just missing Tomas, I guess.”
“If you say so.”
Bryah turned to face Sandara and glared at her. “Just what are you implying?”
“Nothing. Although I do have to wonder if there isn't a reason you keep putting him off.”
The glare changed to a frown. “Spill it Mother. What are you referring to?”
“Nothing. It's just interesting that you keep putting Tomas off, even though you claim to love him, yet there is someone on this ship that you seem very protective of.”
Sandara's eyes flicked towards the command area and back again. Bryah followed her line of reasoning and could feel the anger rising inside her. She kept her voice level, but the words were terse and sharp. “If you're thinking what I think you are, forget it.”
The younger woman shrugged and went back to staring into space. “I've been where he is at, and it can be a lonely place. I was lucky though. Tomas pulled me out of it.”
“That explains a lot and nothing.”
Another shrug. “I don't know how to explain it. Adrian's a friend. I care about him and we work well together. But that's as far as it goes.”

Bryah turned and walked to the stairs that led down to the lower deck. She descended them two at a time and went to spend time with Sammuroth. She had an idea for a way to have him move around the ship and regain some of his strength while protecting his still mending bones and she wanted to talk to him about it.
The tension on the ship was palpable, you would either have to be too foolish or blind to not see it. It was no surprise warriors of two warring factions on the same ship for three weeks, it was a wonder fights had not broken out, perhaps everyone was still recovering from the shock of what happened at the compound. Sammuroth had noted the continued restlessness of the death knights, it was somthing he knew all to well having seen the same look on his friend Dalfein's face more than once. Dalfein for his part was fairly good at keeping the hunger in check, the durid had seen him go a full week without succumbing to it. Still he knew the look the death knights gave him, that look of hunger, of satisfaction of his suffering, "I don't mind them using me to keep their hunger in check, but if they come near me they are gonna find themselves missing some limbs, injured or not I won't hesitate to scratch their eyes out."

The druid sighed knowing it was all bravado, and his own restlessness at being cooped up in this bed, at full strength he didn't doubt he could go toe to toe with a death knight, hell he had done it before in Northrend. In his current condition however, he would be lucky to even put a scratch on them, he slapped his paw down on his mattress, the action caused him to wince in pain. Good going Sam just keep aggravating your inury, and you will never leave this bed, he chastised himself. He had heard the call that they were nearing Booty bay, he still wasn't sure how wise it was to go to major port, if his hunch was correct people would already be looking for them, and if there was a reward on tehir heads a goblin city was not the best place to go looking for shelter.

He had spent his time in bed meditating, and connecting himself to nature, even aboard a ship seemingly devoid of any nature, an experienced druid could still commune with it. What he had felt was not good, Azeroth was restless, in a confused state, the land could feel the coming storm, and it didn't like it, and neither did the druid. He began to meditate again, but before he could get anywhere he heard footsteps approaching, he had his eyes closed, but his nose told him exactly who it was. "What brings you to visit an old and broken cat Bryah, surely there are other more animated people you could talk with," the words came out softly, and anyone could tell, the druid was angry at his current predicament.
Watching as the blue waters rolled beneath the ship, Kialla couldn't stop the smirk from spreading across her face as she overheard the marksman's comment about beards and women. It was true, the male humans did look better with their facial hair, though, she attributed it to their babyish looking faces. Even the older men had softer, rounder qualities than that of the rougher, strong-jawed features of her own race. They just looked rather delicate, and more often than not made her giggle when she saw them parading their own masculinity when competing with one another.

She glanced over in the Marksman's direction as Bryah walked away, watching him fiddle with the controls and try to keep awake. He seemed dead-set on doing so despite the elf's badgering. Deciding against furthering any insistence of Adrian getting sleep, Kialla simply sat down on the deck, glancing about in boredom. She pulled out the draenic inscribed journal as she leaned back on the railing, her tail absentmindedly wrapping around one of the rail posts behind her.

She found nothing coming to mind to write within the pages, the three weeks they'd been journeying on the ship being all melded into one long, dreary day. Even the pain of recovering from the battle was long faded, only reminded by the occasional twinge in her leg when she stood on it wrong. She was anxious to get off the small vessel, and though their destination was in sight, it still seemed forever away.

She was not the only one, she knew. Everyone save Sammuroth was often pacing with anxiety. Sydric and Sandara both at least gave some form of entertainment when they were sparring, though the draenei had a suspicion that their bouts were more than just to pass time. She'd kept her distance from them both, particularly lately, not wanting to aggravate them. Though she found herself holding a slightly higher regard for the pair since their escape, she was in no hurry to sincerely place her trust in them. She knew what they were capable of, and from simply observing them, she knew that they were literally dying to unleash their vile obsession for inflicting pain on some unfortunate creature.
A group of eleven Night Elves stood on one of the piers in Booty Bay, watching the gunship approach: eight Sentinels, a single druid -the sole male in the group- and two Wardens, clad in plate armor and wielding the umbra crescent blades that were an integral part of their order. The squad stood in broad daylight, ignoring the bemused glances shot their way by many of the passing pedestrians. Despite their clearly militant purpose, they had not made any trouble, so Baron Revilgaz tolerated them -warily, of course.

"As soon as the gunship docks, board the ship. Remember, these are the assassins responsible for the deaths of our beloved Priestess. They must be brought to trial in Darnassus and executed for their crimes. Druid, you shall be our reserve. Keep yourself hidden unless we have need of you." The druid nodded and shifted into his cat form, slinking off into the shadows behind a stack of cargo crates and becoming practically invisible. The ten remaining Night Elves stood on the dock as their target drew closer and closer.
Adrian stood at the control console. He rubbed the heel of his palm into his eyes and looked toward Booty Bay. It drew closer and closer by the minute. He brought the speed down to a gentlecruise. He looked down at the rest of the members. Kialla buried in her book, Bryah and Sandara conversing. He had seen the death knights sparring occasionally to stave succumbing yo their hunger. Sammuroth was still in bad shape.

Booty Bay becoming more and more of a clear picture, Adrian lifted his rifle and peered through the scope to the dock. He saw a group awaiting them. Their mannerisms and looked implied they were elven. He'd have to wait until they got closer to tell for sure. He continued looking towards them and decided he should let the group know.

"Got ourselves a welcome party at the dock," he shouted to everyone."I don't know if they're friendly or not."
The humidity of Stranglethorn, was nearly unbearable, so imagine how miserable the six cloaked figures walking the dirt paths must have been. This group had been on the hunt for the last three weeks, searching for the assassins of the leaders of the Horde, and Alliance. At first glance it looked like anormal party of humans, but one only had to look at the faces of the two at the rear of the group to tell they were anything but human. If the glowing eyes, were not enough, the pointed ears of the feminine figure was a dead give away that she was elven, and if one heard the voice of the other they would realize quickly he was otherworldy. "Uncle Dalfein are you sure it was a good idea to team up with these guys, they have been giving me some very uncomfortable looks the last few days. Besides they are hunting father to kill him, is it wise to be helping them," the man put a hand on the girl's shoulder, "Do not worry Lori, these men will never lay eyes on Sam, I promise."

She nodded, but Dalfein knew his words did little to reassure the poor girl, when word had reached Moonglade of what had happened at the peace summit, Lori had been desperately trying to reach the death knight at Acherus. She needn't have bothered, for he had already been on his way to Moonglade to meet up with her, she like him knew Sammuroth, and his companions were being framed. After they had come together they set out immediately to track the druid down, to avoid arousing suspicion they had hidden their identities, and joined up with a small mercenary band with the same goal as themselves. They had searched for two weeks before they got a break, at a small fishing village where they heard a rumor of some kind of flying ship heading down the coast towards Booty Bay.

They could not be sure if the occupants of the ship were who they were after, but it was the only lead they had, so they decided to chase it down, and now a week later they traveled through Stranglethorn towards the goblin city. The leader of their group, a burly bear of a man called for a halt, "It is beginning to get dark we will camp here and finish the trek to Booty Bay at first light." Dalfein stopped Lori from speaking up with a hand on her shoulder, and a shae of his head, they had to play along, obviously upset Lori, however conceded, and began unpacking her gear. An hour later they sat around the fire digesting their meal of dried venison, the other four of their group were drinking, like they had every night since the two joined up. As the fire began to burn out the leader turned to Dalfein, "W-why don'tsh yoush go and getsh some more f-firewood," the death knight simply nodded, and got up, and walked into the night.

Without Dalfein there Lori watched the men warily, and for good reason as they were staring at her, and licking their lips she quickly rose to her feet, "I think I will go to bed." Thinking to get away from their stares she began walking towards her tent, but a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into the embrace, of the burly leader of the group. "Whatsh your hurry there lasshy, I think we should get to know each other a l- *hic* little better," Lori tried to push herself away, but he was too strong for her feminine body. "L-let go of me, this is highly inapporpriate," the men around her laughed, "thatsh the point girly," the leader said, his hands roaming over her body. She squealed which just caused the men to laugh harder, "L-let go of me this is your final warning," once again the men laughed. As the bear of a man that held began to bring his face closer to hers, a wicked smile on his face, a flash of silver removed his smile, and stopped the laughter. The girl had brought her small short sword and swiped it across the man's face, making his mouth open just a little wider, the man threw the girl in surprise, and she landed hard on her back.

Catching her breath Lori looked up to see the men surrounding her, weapons drawn, the leader leered down at her his eyes manic and crazy, "You are gonna pay for that one girly, all yo uhad to do was let me have my fun, and nothing bad would have happened. Now, this is not going to be so pleasant," the men stalked in closer, surprisingly coordinated for being so drunk. Lori tried to back up, but there was no where to go, "Please, just leave me alone I didn't mean to, I am sorry," the leader nodded, "yes, you will be sorry, get her boys." The men closed on her, until a grunt, and spray of blood and gore splattered all over them, stopping them midstride, turning around they saw their leader with a massive hole in his chest. Blood poured from his mouth, as he collapsed already dead, when he fell it was revealed who had attacked, as the cloaked Dalfein, stood on the other side of the dying fire. His cold blue eyes blazing, "I believe the girl asked nicely that you leave her alone," his voice was cold, devoid of anything except the promise of death.

Dalfein had returned to the men surrounding Lori, it was clear to him what their intentions were, and that fact had caused him to snap, he was still a few days away from his hunger really affecting him. However, seeing the girl he considered like a niece in danger, brought forth the hunger full force, looking towards Lori he said, in the same cold tone, "Close your eyes my dear this is about to get messy." Lori quickly did as she was told, and not a moment to soon as one of the men charged the death knight thinking to catch him off guard, it was his last mistake. Dalfein ducked under the man's swing, and brought his spiked gauntlet into the man's gut, doubling him over blood pouring from the wound, as the man bent forward he brought his other gauntleted hand and brought under the man's chin. Blood sprayed from the man's mouth, and though already dead the death knight was not done with him, he quickly caused his hand, and in turn his gauntlet to become freezing cold.

He sent the freezing energy into the man's skull the speed at which his brain froze caused the man's head to explode, as the body fell Dalfein sensed one of the others trying to attack him. He quickly drew his blade, Phoenix, and brought it across to block, turning with his block as he came around he drew his other blade, Shadow, and cut clean through the man's neck, severing his head from his body, and causing blood to spray all over him. His hood had come off, and his now blood covered face turned to the final man, his eyes, and the blood made the death knight look every bit the part of a demon. That fact sent the other man running for his life, but he didn't get far as a spike of ice came flying, hitting his shoulder and sticking the man to a nearby tree. Dalfein stalked forward, and as he reached the doomed man, a scream of terror left his mouth, an hour later nothing remained of the man embedded in the tree except a pile gore on the ground.

Grabbing Lori he led her away from the camp towards Booty Bay, Lori finally opened her eyes, and began to look back, "Don't look Lori," Dalfein's tone brooked no argument, and she kept her eyes forward. She felt a little sorry for the men, even though they had tried to do something terrible to her, but she didn't wish a death knight's blood rage on anyone. Looking up at her protector she spoke, "I am sorry Uncle Dalfein I should have been able to handle those guys myself, I was just so scared." She lowered her head, and began to sob the realization of what almost happened finally dawning on her, the death knight put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She buried her face in his chest, and sobbed uncontrollably, Dalfein just held her, and stroked her head.

"What brings you to visit an old and broken cat Bryah, surely there are other more animated people you could talk with."
“There are, but you need the company more. Besides, I had an idea I wanted to talk to you about.”
Bryah reached out and used her healing spell on the druid. The chances of it working were slim, but she was hoping that the fact that he was in cat form would allow it to work.

“I was thinking about a time when Hades was injured and needed to have his spine operated on. While he was recovering, I had a special wheelchair made for him. It was basically a sling that went under his chest and was supported by two metal rods. The rods led down to two wheels. The rear portion of the frame had support for his back legs and the wheels took over the function of his back legs while he was in the wheelchair and he used his front legs to move around.”

She looked at the druid and could see the pain and anger at his current situation in his eyes. “I thought that if we could make something similar for you, it would at least allow you to move around and not be stuck in here all the time.”

"Got ourselves a welcome party at the dock, I don't know if they're friendly or not." Adrian's voice drifted down to her. “Damn I have to go. Think about what I said, I'll check in on you soon.”

Bryah raced up the stairs and looked. She could see the shapes of what appeared to be people standing on the dock, but couldn't fully make them out. “We'll let's see if they are friendly or not.” She whistled for Blaze and the dragonhawk appeared less than a minute later, nudging at her shoulder. The Farstrider ran her hands over her pet's head and whispered a few words. Blaze squawked and took off towards the dock. She let him get just close enough to see the figures on the dock and hoped he was high enough to not be seen from the ground.

She looked out through her dragonhawk's eyes and swore softly in Thalassian. Switching back to common for the sake of the alliance on board, she spoke to the group. “Night elves. Full armour. Looks like one, two , three... eight sentinels, two wardens and a stack of crates nearby that is big enough to be hide a stealthed rogue or druid. Hmmm...” She recalled Blaze and turned to face Adrian. “They're not friendly. We need to get out of here, now. If we go there, we'll be captured or killed.”

Bryah frowned as she continued. “That's not all. They look like they've been waiting for us. We need to consider the possiblity that there is some kind of tracking device on this ship.”
“There are, but you need the company more. Besides, I had an idea I wanted to talk to you about.” Sammuroth smiled at the ranger's comment, and he opened his eyes to look at her, he watched as she knelt down, and attempted to heal him him like she would her pets. Her attempt lessened the pain a little, but did little to actually fix him up, "Thank you for trying that, but I am afraid it will take quite a skilled healer to mend my broken bones." He did appreciate the thought, but he was slightly angry that it didn't work, he didn't want to be stuck here anymore.

“I was thinking about a time when Hades was injured and needed to have his spine operated on. While he was recovering, I had a special wheelchair made for him. It was basically a sling that went under his chest and was supported by two metal rods. The rods led down to two wheels. The rear portion of the frame had support for his back legs and the wheels took over the function of his back legs while he was in the wheelchair and he used his front legs to move around.”

The druid didn't much like the thought of being stuck in some kind of contraption, but he knew that was his pride talking, she was trying to help, in fact she reminded him a bit of Lori in that regard. Always willing to help those in need no matter their affiliation, it was a good quality, and spoke well of her generation. Perhaps he should consider her idea, it would at least let him move around, without a lot of pain. Bryah apparently had the same thought, “I thought that if we could make something similar for you, it would at least allow you to move around and not be stuck in here all the time.” The druid was about to tell her he would think about it, but Adrian's voice cut him off, "Got ourselves a welcome party at the dock, I don't know if they're friendly or not."

It seemed the druids assumption that they would be framed for the attack was correct, which boded ill for their little company. “Damn I have to go. Think about what I said, I'll check in on you soon.” The druid nodded as she got up and left, as soon as she was gone he cursed, a fight was likely to break out soon, and he couldn't do a damn thing to help.
It was almost unbearable, the hunger was affecting him far worse then it ever had. Sydric stayed on the railings most of the time, clenching the rails with plated gloves until he almost felt like leaping into the ocean below them.

The sighting of land had been noted and he looked at the others with the hunger shining in his eyes. "I do hope we see some pirates, or something I can at least..." he growled his frustration. The bodies of the crew members had been pitched over board long before and it was harder for him to summon a ghoul. He needed to kill something desparately, his soul nearly vibrated with the insanity boiling in his mind.

The sight of people waiting on the docks for them nearly sent a shiver down his spine in pure joy. At last!! Something he could attack! Something he could inflict the pain and suffering on! Sydric nearly flew into the forward portion of the ship, watching as they approached land and planning out how he would attack the gathered elves. His voice nearly crooned, "Elves...pretty little endearing with their little squeals of pain.."

If someone does try and stop Sydric when they land they might very well be slammed aside. It would take a miracle or someone very strong to hold him back, and then they will probably get hurt in the process. Yes he is nearly insane with the urges.

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