Stasis

[Evanthe]

The azure waves lap against the fine black sands, enveloping her like a warm blanket, covering her all too briefly before pulling back into the depths of the sea. A paper bird circles above her, crudely drawn black feathers reflecting some unseen light. She focuses on it, keeping her eyes on its wobbling form even as another wave washes over her. The line of the beak is wrong, its eyes mis-matched. She could do better than this, the silly work of a child, she thinks. Her bird would be better. Her bird would soar. She reaches up and grabs it, the paper rough between her fingers.

There's a brush in her hand, correctly loaded with paint. The pigments shift--black, crimson, violet--as she applies brush to paper. She smoothes the lines, corrects proportions, adds shadow and highlight. Slowly the bird expands, taking depth in addition to length and width. The feathers seperate, becoming slick and discrete. She paints with increasing fervor, willing the raven into existence. Talons form and curl around her forearm. She has saved the eyes for last-- odd, flat circles against the created bird-- and now begins on the left.

"No one will come for you," a mournful voice calls from behind her just as the bristles touch the bird.

Evanthe spins around, the brush falling through her slackend fingers. There is the source of the voice; a girl, all color leached from her skin and hair, a watercolor left in the rain. The raven cocks its head to the side, peering at the girl with its unfinished eyes.

"No one will come for you," the girl repeats, her mouth open but unmoving as the words pour out. "No one will come for you."

"Skafloc."

"No one will come for you."

"Lying bitch." Evanthe narrows her eyes into slits, her tone murderous as she replies.

"No one..." The girl's voice fades and a moment later she is gone, leaving not even a footprint where she stood.

Evanthe jerks her arm in frustration, causing the raven to take flight; its flat, lifeless eyes seeming to taunt her for a work unfinished. She sinks down into the sand, the girl's words echoing in her mind.

No one will come for you.

No one.

[Ninorra]

((*tears at hair; bangs head on desk*))

[Evanthe]

that bad... ;) ]

[Skafloc]

that bad... ;) ]

(( It wasn't. It was perfectly mournful. I loved it. :) ))

[Ninorra]

that bad... ;) ]

((XD It made me want to beat the sh*t out of whatever girl was talking to Evanthe.

..and then smack Skafloc again.))

[Szordrin]

((Evanthe!))

[Evanthe]

He sat down abruptly, the chair whining with its increased burden, and conjured the scrying portal. The messenger appeared, saluting but waiting for his cue before speaking.

"Your report."

"We began the next phase at 9:00 am yesterday morning. Initially, the subjects showed no change to the increased pull, and energy outputs remained consistent with our calculations. However, after 10:30 pm we lost two of the subjects, both males, numbers five and eight. There were no warning signs other than a loss of output. Their bodies have been removed for further testing."

He leaned forward, running his hand over his chin, one of many nervous habits picked up since the Sunwell's destruction. The two males were expendable, merchants who came to the outlands to seek their fortune. The testing should reveal the limitations of the method, so in a way, their failure was really a success.

"The others?"

"They are performing according to calculations. Energy outputs remain consistent, with the exception of subject seven, whose energy output is increasing rapidly. We expect the source to burn out within a few days."

"Subject twelve?'

"Per your request, sir, she has remained in stasis."

He couldn't help but grin. He had special plans for that one. Only a few more days, he reminded himself. Everything will be set up soon.

The messenger was dismissed with a curt nod before the portal closed. He leaned back, producing another groan of protest from his chair. Patience, keep your patience. It will happen soon enough.

[Ninorra]

((*points* HA! *points at everyone in a big circle* Haaaaa!!! YEAH!))

[Evanthe]

"Ah, Magister. How good of you to come." He bowed deeply in greeting as his guest approached, stifling the urge to roll his eyes at the mage's insistance that this custom be followed, even from such a high ranking official as himself. But now was neither the time nor the place to worry about petty arguments over status and respect, not when he was so close in his research. And certainly not when this man controlled the purse-strings.

"Venestas." The magister nodded briefly, his face stern but without any hint of hostility.

"I'm afraid I won't be the best of hosts," Venestas said, motioning for the magister to follow him inside the secluded building and out of the harsh Netherstorm environment. "I wasn't aware of your visit until just this morning."

"It's no matter," the magister replied, stepping around a stack of supply boxes stashed haphazardly in the entranceway. "I haven't come here for wine and muffins."

"Oh, no, of course not. I didn't mean to imply your time was invaluable." Fel, he hated this polite diplomacy. He prefered dealing with his own people-- quick reports, to the point, no bullshit. There were some who were given the gift of small talk but he wasn't one of them. However, sometimes you had to kiss babies and shake hands to move forward. At least, he thought with a smirk, there has been a lot less of the former since the Sunwell.

He led the Magister through a series of rooms as they lapsed into an uneasy silence, each full with various supplies of war: armaments, mostly, but herbs, bandages and potions as well. His workers buzzed around, too busy with their duties to giver more than a quick bow to the two as they passed. Finally they came to the end of a long hallway, two heavy doors blocking further passage. As he dug in his pockets for a key, the mage sopke.

"I've heard promising things about your work, but I'm not privy to any of the particulars."

"Of course," he replied, slipping the enchanted key into the lock. "We've kept this area of research secret from most of the Sin'Dorei. We wouldn't want the Scryers to get wind of it."

Venestas swung open the doors, revealing a long chamber. A dozen large green crystals lined the sides, reaching almost to the ceiling. Inside each was a Sin'Dorei, completely immersed in a viscous fluid. The acrid stentch of fel energy assalted their senses as they entered. The air was filled with an undercurrent of energy that caused the fine hairs on the back of the magister's neck to stand on end.

"My research into the transfer of mana and magical energies began shortly after the destruction of the Sunwell. With our people suffering, I felt it my duty to relieve their pain, and, of course, my own. My daughter became," he grimaced at the word, "wretched. I was not able to save her, but her succuming to the addicition was the catalyst that drives what I do here. Mana tapping is effective, but not sufficient. I dreamed of the day when we would discover another alternative to the Sunwell. Perhaps, I thought, if we could amplify a creature's mana, or life, or very soul as it is drained, we could have enough mana to completely abate the addiction. A living mana battery, as it were.

"With our work here in the Outlands that has become unnecessary. The Manaforges have rendered that dream obsolete. There are still wretched, yes. But there are more important things to worry about than the lost. A couple years ago, I shifted my focus to weapons research."

He led the magister over to one of the crystals, this one occupied by a blond male. Tapping the crystal, he began again.

"This crystal has undergone a series of transmutations to arrive at its final state. It serves as an amplifier, mana or the very life drained through it is increased exponentially. One Sin'Dorei placed inside provides hundreds of times the return of even the most potent natural mana source, save a ley line iteself.

"The subjects are kept just before the point of death. A deep coma, if you will, but deeper than any you would recognize. We began the second phase of the experiment last week, collecting the essence in-"

"That's all well and good, Venestas," the magister interrupted. "But this seems to be a waste of time. A year ago, two, this would have been a major breakthrough, but we have moved beyond this. You have wasted my time with nothing more than child's play."

As the magister turned to leave, Venestas couldn't help but laugh. The mage spun back around, cleary outraged at this lack of manners.

"No, no, Magister. This-" he waved at the crystal, "is more than a mana collection device. Follow me, and I'll show you what you're really after." He walked toward the end of the hallway, turning toward the last crystal.

The energy so obviously present in the rest of the room was gone. The air was heavy, thick lick the air before a storm. The fluid in this crystal was darker, saturated with a substance absent in the others. A female Sin'Dorei, her hair as black as a raven's wing floated motionlessly inside.

"What if I told you," he began again, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice, "I could give you a weapon that was more powerful than the manabomb that decimated Firewing Point earlier this year, but was capable of entering places we could only dream of infultrating? Not just capable of entering, but welcomed into the heart of the Shattered Sun forces, Shattrath, or even Silvermoon itself?"

The magister quirked a brow, his interest clearly painted across his face. "What are you talking about?"

Venestas smiled, turning away from his guest to the crystal. "What I'm talking about is a device capable of bringing unknown levels of fear to our enemies, to their families. What I'm talking about will change the way we defend ourselves, move us to the offensive.

"What I'm talking about, Magister, is a living bomb."

[Skafloc]

(( Wow... just, wow. PMS has nothing on that! Great story Eva. ))

[Fynne]

(Sonofabitch and this is what I'm looking for? I hope it's cloakable.

I do love the tension!)

[Villayna]

(( I love it :) ))

[Izrail]

((Same here, looking forward to discovering how it turns out.))

[Saphiara]

The first part had been easy, at least...Skafloc had believed the crystals were connected to the manaforges somehow, so she had started there. The Scryers launched regular attacks against the Prince's stations, and were glad to have a veteran member accompany the strike force. Coruu was this day's target, and it had fallen swiftly with the Lady-Knight at the head of the assault.

Saphiara tossed the engineer's body off the control console, logging into its command interface with the crystal stolen from the overseer. She searched quickly through its records, looking for any clues that might reveal the location of these mysterious 'crystals'.

She paused suddenly as she scanned, going back a couple of steps and not really knowing why. The panel displayed a readout of power outputs, most of it going to Tempest Keep as expected. What had caught her eye, however, was that the numbers did not add up - there was an enormous chunk of energy just...missing from the display, with no explanation of its use.

Hidden, then. Saphiara thought a moment, then pulled up the display showing status conditions of the manaforge's pipelines. Each of the output numbers matched up to various pipes, leaving only one without an accompanying output. She changed the display again, looking at a map for that pipe's ID number; it apparently went underneath the forge, then undergound to somewhere below Sunfury Hold. The shouting of reinforcements brought the knight out of her thoughts; she quickly pulled up the destruct commands and enacted them, fleeing the place just as the first explosions started ripping through the forge.

The Scryer forces outside cheered as they watched the enemy facility burn, but Saphiara was lost in her own mind. She had spent a year in Sunfury Hold, and had never known of any facility underneath it - so where was that power going? She looked back up at the burning manaforge, and its connecting power pipes going dark. If she were going to find out, now was the perfect opportunity...

[Saphiara]

"You think I would be willing to *help* you trap ravens?" The tauren looked at the knight with a look of incredulity. At least, she thought that was what the look meant. She couldn't read taurens very well.

"No, not trap. If I can find the frequency that attracts them, then I also have the frequency that repels them. Think about it...you can plant beacons in the area that will warn the ravens of unnatural dangers to avoid."

The tauren thought about it, then agreed. The pair spent a short amount of time near the raven nests, as Saphiara cycled a power core through various operating frequencies. After a few trials, she found a setting that brought them gliding down to stare at her curiously. She nodded at the druid, then reversed the core. The birds shrieked angrily, flying off into the distant spires.

"There we go. I do not have time to build any more at the moment, but any journeyman engineer can copy this design." She handed the power core to the druid, who nodded in appreciation.

She walked away and boarded her flying machine, setting a course for Area 52. Her contingency was in place, now she just needed to prepare for what was sure to come...

[Saphiara]

Three days had passed since she had gone underground, leaving behind most of her equipment in Sun Rock. She had abandoned her protection, yes, but also the bulk that accompanied it. This mission was going to require subtlety, simply impossible in her plate armor. She was dressed in black leathers, armed only with various engineering devices and a belt of explosives.

She hoped the Cross would forgive her unannounced absence, but she knew declaring her intentions would bring only interference. The only clue any had to her location was the brief letter she had penned to Skafloc. It was short, cryptic enough that any who intercepted it would not understand, but she held out hope that her love would realize what it meant.

Most of her time had been spent surveying Sunfury Hold from afar, searching every foot of its grounds for some sign of the hidden recepient of the power line she had traced. Her efforts had proven fruitless, as she could find nothing out of place from her memories.

Saphiara sat up and removed her goggles, rubbing her eyes to clear them. The headache from using them constantly had returned, and she could feel her stomach starting to complain of the lack of a meal. The knight crawled over to her napping nether ray, pulling chunks of cheese and bread from the saddlebags and nibbling them as she took a short rest.

The sounds of conversation below interrupted her break; she carefully slunk to the edge of the cliff, peeking over the edge to find a group of researchers engaged in some kind of technical argument at the base of a hill across the makeshift road from her own position. They were just far enough away that she couldn't make out the debate clearly - something about mana transmission.

Odd...we are out away from the complex. Why would they stand here to work out an issue on a project? Her eyes grew wide a moment later as her question was answered; the researchers walked THROUGH the cliff face and disappeared into an unseen area. "Hellfire. An illusionary wall...why did I not consider that?" She cursed her foolishness for relying on her technology instead of her own natural abilities; her spellbreaker sight would of easily detected the ruse.

She waited several more minutes to ensure that none others were arriving or departing, then scrambled away from the edge and stood. She rapidly checked over her gear, ensuring that everything was in place. In particular, she checked her gauntlet; a special design, it featured inputs on the fingertips to allow her rapid access to the various gadgets on her body. A small row of lights indicated which were at full power and available for use; all were green, which meant operational.

Saphiara took a deep breath and readied herself - she would only have one shot at success, and Skafloc's wife was depending on her for it. One final chance...you can simply tell him she is dead, and be with him for the rest of your days...

Saphiara tapped her fingers together rapidly, entering the code to activate the first of her many tricks. She vanished from sight, slipping sideways across reality into an adjacent side plane. She took a running start and leapt off the cliff, calculating the fall in her mind then entering a second code. Her cloak billowed out, slowing her fall; she landed on the run, dashing through the illusion before her and praying that the guards were not in a position to see her when the cloaking device ran out...

[Fynne]

Netherstorm was a bleak place – the landscape was filled with testaments to power sought to extremes. The destruction of Draenor was evident here more than any of Outland’s other regions. The slow throb of Manaforges echoed as they ripped the last remnants of life from the lightning forked sky. The conduits hummed with their stolen mana, spiderwebbing back to Kael’thas’ stolen sanctuary. Each and all, testaments to the devastation of those seeking more power.

Against the faint arcs of mana streaking the sky, Fynne could see the Manaforge glowing, pulsing with the sickly pitch of fel energy. The ridge he had not yet crested blocked the ground from his view, but he had little doubt what he would see there. Voidwalkers, voidterrors – all manner of shadowtouched creatures spawned from the elves’ forges when they finally drew too deep for power.

Judging by the glow – the omnipresent dim that seemed to have infected everything – rock, forge, and even sky, this forge had long since been overrun. Glancing to the sky, Fynne searched for his ray among the others. It was easy to spot its friendly aura swimming among so many hostile ones; the toothy steed was flitting in and out of the swirling mana being threaded down into the maw of the forge, testing its agility by dodging the hammering machinery.

“This place is still operational!” Henri declared out loud as realization dawned upon him. He sprinted to the ridgeline and stared down into the field of fel energy. He tore off his blindfold in disbelief. Nothing. Not a single aberration. Nor was there an army of blood elves, trained and elite in their expertise to have recently dispatched such an invasion. Not so much as a scorpion stalked the barren wasteland between him and the Manaforge.

Bringing his spyglass to his eye (remarkable how much better they work without a blindfold), Fynne surveyed the nearest entrance. Like virtually every other Manaforge he’d come across, the doorway was flanked by two blood knights. Unlike the others, there was an actual door in this doorway. A large, thick, reinforced door by the look of it, and come to think of it – those blood knights didn’t look like the typical pushovers either.

Signalling his ray, Henri decided it’d be best to contact Skafloc. If there was somewhere in Netherstorm worth hiding, or worth hiding someone, this was it. It just wouldn’t do to go storming in to rescue someone else’s princess, anyway. And, of course, none of those reasons had a thing to do with the fact that Fynne might actually need some help against some well-equipped guards. Nothing at all.

[Saphiara]

One would think that whatever research is important enough to bury down here would be important enough to file in an efficient manner... The researcher down at her feet began to groan again, struggiling in futility to escape the net he was encased in. Saphiara glanced down with a cold glare. "Must I remind you again how much pain you were in the last time I was forced to kick you in the ribs to obtain your key? Now be silent." The scrawny man whined and curled back up.

She checked around the room again to ensure the other bodies discarded in various corners remained unconscious. The fight had used up most of her weapons, as the red lights on her gauntlet indicated, but it had given her the time she needed to conduct her search. She slid the file in her hand to the side, and grabbed the next one in the stack.

Crystal synthesis...mana transferal *again*...wait - what is this? "Project Mana Hatan"? She pulled out the small stack of papers, flipping through them as she scanned their contents. Most of it was beaucratic notes; procurement requests, status reports, things of that nature. One item caught her eye, however.


Lord Venestas:

The strike team has obtained Subject Demos as ordered, though three members were lost in the attempt. The subject was captured intact as ordered. Subject is currently held in stasis lock, awaiting transport to primary infusion facility.

Attached to the sheet were several small photos from a goblin imager. The woman was beautiful, with raven black hair. And in some of them, standing beside her...

"Skafloc...I found her..."

"Unfortunately for you, Project Thirty-Seven, you shall not escape with that information."

She hadn't heard anyone enter, but considering the voice, he probably wasn't even present. She calmly tucked the discovered message between her breasts and sat the rest of the file down upon the desk. She turned, holding her arms open to show her lack of weapons - and was not at all surprised to see Pathaleon standing there as a hologram. Blocking the exit to the lab was a small squad of elite knights.

Saphiara snarled, sliding away from the desk into the open room, trying not to get trapped in the corner. "I think not, Pathaleon. You were unable to stop my escape before - you shall fail again here."

"Oh, but dear Saphiara, I failed to calculate important variables in our last encounter. Variables I have included now..."

The knife had punctured her lung before she even felt it enter. Her breath escaped her, a trickle of blood oozing out the corner of her lip. The assassin was skilled; her goggles had never detected him coming.

"You see, Saphiara, your creation was both a triumph and a failure. You were nearly invincible, your body capable of regenerating from the most catastrophic damage, given time. However, you became wild, undisciplined - uncontrollable." He gestured at her gauntlet. "You know this now, however. You never planned to escape this place, else you would of held resources in reserve. You thought to be disposed of, then able to walk away once your body healed itself."

Saphiara collapsed to her knees; the strike had stolen her strength from her. The hologram kneeled down to keep his eyes upon hers. "That was your plan, but I anticipated it. The blade was poisoned with a toxin created especially for you...it inhibits your powers, prevents you from regeneration. There will be no escape for you, only oblivion..."

A blinking at the edge of Saphiara's blurred vision caught her attention...the cloaking device had cycled through its recharge phase and powered back on. She glared hatefully at Pathaleon, twisting her hand to prevent him from seeing the light. "...you miscalculated again, Pathaleon..." She summoned her inner reserves, tapping her fingers together and dashing forward as she disappeared. The guards moved to block her, but it was too late; she had already ran past them and up the exit ramp. Pathaleon watched her run with an amused grin on his face. The guards stared at him in surprise, until he pointed at the trail of spilled blood on the floor. "She left you a trail of breadcrumbs, fools. Follow it."

The guards ran out, only to find a trail of smoke streaking across the sky to the south "Summon an Air Guardian, and have them track the intruder." The captain's order was cut short as a sudden plume of dust and debris poured into the air beyond the Kirin Tor village, followed shortly after by the explosion of several seaforium charges. The captain grinned, "...tell the Guardian that he need not worry about recovery, only confirmation of termination."

==================================================

The rocket boots had worked as intended, but Saphiara had found her left side numb when she attempted to activate her parachute. She closed her eyes, trying to focus...and opened them to find herself a mere few feet from one of the massive islands afloat in the nether. There was no time to shield herself from impact; she bounced once, crying out weakly as her belt was torn roughly off her. The charges detonated, flinging her further...her body dug a trench into the rock, skidding for dozens of yards towards the far end. Finally, her momentum slowed and stopped, mostly due to the large mound of detrius she had accumulated in her slide.

She could already feel her body growing cold. Looking upwards with blood-soaked eyes, her hazy vision could just barely make out a red-haired man with a bow. She coughed, her voice coming out as a harsh gurggling whisper. "...anything...". She collapsed, and did not rise again.

Anything for you my love...

================================================== ===

The Air Guardian dropped his bow and leaned down, brushing a bit of rubble away to get to her neck. He waited a moment, then clicked his communicator. "Air Six - she's gone. Looks like her last trick didn't work so well after all. On the plus side though...she dug her own grave for us." He grinned at his own wit, walking away again to mount his dragonhawk.

================================================== ===

There was still one final trick, however. As Saphiara's heart beat its last, a small power core hummed to life, sending a homing frequency out into the uncaring coldness of the nether.


My dearest love,

Let Ebony guide you to my heart.

Saphiara.

[Zelaine Evershine]

((....omg...))

[Villayna]

(( can't wait to read more. very nice Saphiara! and Fynne too! ))

[Skafloc]

(( Hehe.. Mana Haten project.. as in Manhattan Project. as in KABOOM! :D))

[Evanthe]

[You guys are great. :) ]

[Sabachthan]

(( Hehe.. Mana Haten project.. as in Manhattan Project. as in KABOOM! :D))
[[ Way to give away the jokes, Skaf. ;) Eva, the Mana Hatan bombshell. Saphiara, your last post was especially good. I am enjoying this and wishing I were involved somehow -- always a good sign! ]]

[Evanthe]

The waves are no longer azure; now liquid emerald crashing against the shore. Everything here is tinted now, tainted with jade and lime. She can sense the energy that saturates this place, her innermost sanctuary. Fel magic and mana, coating every painted surface in a sickly glaze. She gave it no mind there, this magic ripped from the most unholy of sources, but here it stifles her, a snake squeezing the life from its victim. Oppressive. Choaking. Increasing with each passing moment.

She lies curled on the sand, no longer able to stand against the heavy blanket of fel taint. She dreams that she sees him, Skafloc, her love, her husband; speaking without sound, reaching for her without touch. Her heart aches, yearns for him more intensely than she ever thought possible. Memories jumble together and flicker in front of her: walking along the shores of Quel'thalas to where he waits, sharing wine in the basement of the Melar castle, fending off attack from a band of pirates down in the south sea, the feeling of his lips on hers. Throughout this montage one thought prevails, hope and desperate prayer combined.

Come for me, love. Please come for me.

[Skafloc]

His wyvern flew low to the ground as it wove its way through the jagged hills of Netherstorm. Ahead a tiny dark speck marked the location of his raven Ebony.

The chase the raven had led the hunter on had been frenetic. No sooner had Skafloc emerged from his estate to join his unusually worked up pet on an exercise jaunt when it flew off towards the south.

Calling him back using their special bond had worked, but Skalfoc could sense the incredible reluctance of the great back bird. Something was attracting its attention in a very insistent manner. It was not until he was able to calm his friend down enough to gently smooth out his feathers reassuringly that he found the tiny device affixed to the underside of the raven's wing. It was vibrating slightly with silent energy.

Saphiara. It has to be. He wrung his hands in worry, holding back the flood of tears that threatened to spill out over his cheeks. He released Ebony and the bird immediately took to the sky, circling once overhead before heading south once more.

Skafloc hastily returned to the house to gather his armor and supplies before heading to the stables to mount up and follow.

The journey was long and fast paced. He had to take to the air often in order to keep pace with the swift flyer who was unerringly leading his master south across the lenght of the entire continent. The initial mad chase ended at the foot of the Dark Portal deep in the Blasted Lands. Ebony circled over the huge megalith as Skafloc mounted the stone steps towards the shimmering curtain of energies that joined the two worlds across the vastness of the Nether.

With a screech that echoed through the surrounding red hills the raven dove towards the portal and passed through with his master once step behind.

Once the pair emerged on the other side the chase was renewed. After leading Skafloc across Draenor the great raven now skirted the dead village of Kirin Tor, making a direct line towards the very edge of the broken world. Skafloc kept low scanning the ground below as he passed overhead for any clue as to what was happening while keeping Ebony in sight.

The raven reached the edge of Netherstorm and continue out into the Nether without pause, heading towards a cluster of small broken islands floating at the very fringe of the vast emptiness. The hunter paused before venturing out, taking a deep breath then urging his mount forward he left the mainland behind and headed towards the group of islands.

Approaching the largest island he heard Ebony's screeching proclamation, here!....here!...here!.... There was the raven circling low over what appeared to be a freshly dug trench in the stony dirt of the island. At the far end of the trench half darkened by the shadows was the outline of a small figure. Skafloc landed immediately and sprinted forward, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Gods no! Let it not be" he said to himself, his lips quivering.

He reached the body of Saphiara where she lay, half buried with soil and gravel that had been plowed up from the looks of the trench by her own body. Swiftly he checked her vitals, his face turning ashen when no pulse was found on her wrist. He checked at her neck with still no results. Her body was chilled, but not yet cold with death. She has not been here that long.

Ebony landed next to the pair, preening his feathers and screeching at the prone figure of the woman in irritation. Whatever was calling to him was still active. Skafloc sat back on his heels for a moment and wiped a tear from his cheek. "Why? Why did you put yourself in danger like this Saphiara? Why didn't you call me earlier? Fel!" He swiped at the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust.

The screeching of the raven continued, the high pitched sound beginning to irritate the hunter. He went back to her and began to look for some sign of a device, anything to stop the noise. The edge of a small roll of parchment caught his eye, just barely protruding form the depth of her cleavage. He reached forward to pluck it out, hesitating a moment over the opening of her chestplate then gingerly reaching in between to slide out the roll. He exhaled and opened the parchment. After a few moments his eyes widened. He rolled it up and secured it into his belt pouch before turning back towards Saphiara.

He leaned forward to embrace her, resting his head on her chest and closing his eyes. "Thank you.." he whispered. "Thank you for finding her." He lay there a moment in silence, listening to the very faint and slow echo of her hearbeat.

His eyes shot open wide. He bolted up, hauling her prone figure with him. Heading back to the wyvern he slung her over the neck of the beast and secured her down tight with straps before mounting himself. Calling to Ebony he took flight and headed directly to Shattrath. Once satisfied the wyvern was steady he took out his stone and called into it with a quiver to his voice.

"Raven Cross! Anyone! I am coming to Sun Rock. It is an emergency. Saphiara she is hurt. Very bad and almost.... she needs help. Anyone! I am coming."

[Saphiara]

Saphiara opened her eyes again, and found herself where she had not been before. The ocean - it had been so long since she had visited the ocean for anything more than the instant it took to leave it en route to her next destination. It had been years - well before the Scourge - since she had really felt the urge to even look out over the distant horizon.

The scene was idealistically beautiful, almost as if a painting had been brought out into reality. The setting sun cast shades of pinks and purples across the clear sky, reflected upon the softly lapping waves below them. The sand felt soft beneath her bare feet - and she suddenly realized she was nude, a glorious feeling with the warm breeze caressing her skin.

A glance to her sides, down either side of the endless beach, brought her out of her dreamlike haze. An elven form lay nearby, curled fearfully upon the sands. Saphiara strolled - floated? - to her side, kneeling down and brushing the woman's ebony hair away from her face. Saphiara blinked in surprise, recognizing the face...though she couldn't quite remember *why* she knew her.

"Evanthe?"

[Evanthe]

Her eyes fly open at this new voice, struggling to cut through the fel haze that clouds her vision. She can just make out the shape crouching before her- a woman, not the color-leeched watercolor girl she has seen here before. She blinks, trying to focus her eyes, get a better look at this visitor.

She opens her mouth, the words floating out barely louder than a whisper, the most she can manage here, at this moment.

"Who are you?"

[Saphiara]

Saphiara blinked in thought - the answer to the woman's question was there, but it kept slipping away, almost as if it were a fact that no longer needed to concern her. Surprisingly, the loss of memory didn't bother her in the slightest...still, she wanted to say something, if only to calm the other woman.

This was, after all, such a peaceful and safe place. Why was there any reason to be afraid here? She smiled softly, reassuredly stroking the woman's arm.

"I...I think I was looking for you. There is no need to feel so frightened; the seas are calm and the breeze is warm. I will keep you company, if you feel alone."

[Evanthe]

She regards the girl with a cool suspicion. Looking for her? Who was she? Why her, and not Skafloc?

A wave of nausea overcomes her as the fel energy presses against her, causing her to shake uncontrollably. She can only nod at the woman's request. Any company here is welcome.

[Saphiara]

Saphiara sat upon the beach next to Evanthe, watching out over the ocean. The other woman shivered, as if she were cold, and so Saphiara took her hand with her own, and shared of herself. She felt warm and peaceful, in such a way that there was almost no end of it - so why not show this woman that there was nothing to fear in this place?

A few memories trickled into place; things that she felt she should pass on to comfort the woman beside her. The context continued to elude her, yet still she didn't feel worried by it. She belonged here, after all. No need to fear.

"He will be here soon. He will find what remains of me, and I found you. Then he just has to follow the trail I made for him. It is the least I could do."

[Evanthe]

Evanthe repeats the woman's words in her mind, a soft melody soothing her rattled soul. He will be here soon. Soon.

The sickly haze coats almost everything, choking the life from this once calm place, and even this mantra cannot abate it's growth. And yet, it doesn't effect her, the beautiful woman here with Evanthe, an image of purity untouched by the corruption around her. Evanthe doesn't think on it, on why this is, or who she is; not now, not with everything pushing in around her. She is only grateful for the comfort, and grasps her visitor's hand tighter as her shaking intensifies.

"Th-thank you," she whispers with great effort. "T-tell... love him..."

[Evanthe]

[The following was written by Malorii.]


The repelling rope held. A slight crunch and clack of felsteel on the walls of the fortress. This little slice of hell was nestled in the very spawning pit of nether. A collection of floating rock orbiting around a fortress, it was like the ships in the eye; large and mammoth and a very silly shade of pink. A second plink of felsteel meeting wall in the blind spot of the guard towers. It was a fortress several miles long and several miles wide in the shape of a large square. four guard towers on each point and a rotation of guards every 60 minutes. Every 30 minutes a large flash of light would sweep the courtyard and surrounding areas. The place was tighter then the Arcatraz, a monolith of deprevity and maddness to "prisoners of war."

90 Seconds.

Malorii gave a tug on both of the ropes biteing her lip slightly. This wasn't going to be easy, not even for her; even more of a pain in the ass for the warlock in tow. Evanthe just stared ahead. It wasn't easy getting her. Malfas, Malorii's Netherdrake had carried them double saddle. The combined weight of both riders as well as the gravity pull from the nether almost sank them to their doom in the swell. He would wait for them, perched between two rocks out of the site of the flashes and guards. A perfect blind spot.

"90 seconds... then we'll have 20 to get in sweep the area and blend in, these uniforms should be beliveable enough.. After all the work we did getting them it should be. "

30 seconds .

Evanthe nodded, it was going to be hard getting her in. Being a rogue came second nature, sneaking into places where one is not wanted. Galavanting through bank vaults and locked bars where cargos of rum waited came second nature. But only after years of pysical training. Being a rogue ment Pateintce and Disapline. Waiting for the right moment then strikeing only to fall back to the shadows leaving the enemy paranoid and insecure about their ranks. Sneaking around with a Warlock was alot like a house cat stalking a bird with a giant bell around it's neck. However Malorii never doubted what Evanthe could and could not do. A warlock when their rage was directed on their target could cause some very intresting outcomes.

"They call this place the Black Sun.. They say there has never been a brake in nor an escape since The Prince came through the Darkportal and his armies erected it as a high security prison for .. choice prisoners of war and .. other things.. We are going to change that..mmm Coffee right now would be nice.. maybe with some rum.."

6 Seconds.

Malorii nodded. She had read the reports, she had sent in two violets neither came out alive. The only way she was able to recive the documents was through an off sewer drainge pipe. Her girls had wrapped the documents in their food bowls and wraped them shut with extra linens. Their heads where displayed dripping on pikes in the courtyard.
A loud sound simlier to a fog horn and metal grinding metal erupted from the speakers around the area. Sentries stopped and stared foreward.

Now!

Evanthe turned to her and smiled sadly, her mouth open, bleeding forth a sickly green string of vomit, wriggling maggots and the smell of fel energy. She raised her hand and placed it on top of the little rogues head. One shadowbolt and her head exploded like so many gnomish inventions.

Malorii screamed, knocking herself out of the chair she was sitting in. Sweat poured down her face her hair matting to the slick skin. Wide eyed and panicked she sat there on the floor, paralyzed and breathing heavy. She didn't like sleeping and seldom did it. When she did she would wake up in the same manner, a scared kitten in the headlights of on coming traffic.

Dreams. The gut feeling was always the same. She rose slowly to her feet. Her fingers ached, which was odd. She was wearing her gloves when she was polishing a cluster of new throwing knives. She looked down at her fingers, they were broken, the nails cracked and bleeding. She could make out splinters of ironwood large and thick pressed into the soft under-flesh.

"Bloody hell... going to tell... I'm not the one who stole the fel..."

She chanted her little nursery rhyme and looked to the table. There scattered amoung papers where deep gashes and blood mingling with a spilt glass of rum.

"Help. Evanthe."

[Saphiara]

Love him.

The words reverberated throughout Saphiara's world. The skies darkened, the wind grew cold, and the ocean before her became increasingly rough. Paradise was no longer so welcoming, so inviting.

I do not belong here. If I stay here, I will never see him again.

Saphiara looked down upon Evanthe, and stood. As she rose, her armor appeared upon her - the armor of the guardian, the mantle of a woman who sacrificed of herself for another. The memories came flooding back, and her face grew cold again.

You do not belong here. Paradise is not for you. Your penance is not complete.

"You are a fortunate woman, Evanthe Ran'Deau. He has never lost faith that you live and would be returned to him - as much as I wished it were otherwise. We are coming, and you will be freed. You have the word of my honor on that."

Saphiara vanished, leaving Evanthe alone upon the sands once again.

Saphiara sat bolt upright in her bed, gasping for air as if she had been drowning. In a daze, she looked around the room - Feralmoon was there, as was Bir. And sitting beside her on the bed, his face twisted with worry, was Skafloc.

She clutched on to him, weeping uncontrollably, holding him as if knowing it would be her last chance.

"I thought I would never see you again..."

[Evanthe]

"Your report." He spoke abruptly, the voice of a man used to having his orders followed without question. He was comfortable in this role, more so than playing the politic game with snooty Magisters and nobelmen.

"As per your order, we began the loading process with subject twelve a few days ago. The amplification from the crystal is working in the reverse direction as early tests indicated, and the subject is performing as expected. Loading will be completed within twenty-four to thirty-six hours. We will then need your clearance to add the remote detonation device."

"Do it as soon as the loading process is complete."

"With all do respect, sir, perhaps we should wait to see-"

"No. I want it completed immediately." His tone left no room for discussion.

"Yes, sir. The detonation device will be placed as soon as the load is complete, sometime between tomorrow evening and the next morning."

"Better. Continue."

"The pull tests were completed with a seventy-two-point-seven success rate. Based on their current iteration, the next loading process should theoretically happen in one tenth of the time it is taking us to load subject twelve."

"Good. You're dismissed." Venestas closed the scrying portal with a wave of his hand. Less than two days now. The sound of his laughter carried from his office to the halway, echoing throughout the building.

[Skafloc]

The neat pile sat on his desk among the scattered pages of forgotten invoices, overdue shipment requisitions, account ledgers and the accumulated flotsam of many neglectful days.

Grey dust glistened in the lamplight, a multitude of tiny stars scintillating and shifting as he turned his head left and right to regard it with suspicion.

"Do I dare trust him? He as already changed the rules on me. He was to be there, he was going to help."

Suddenly aware that he was wringing his hands raw he stopped to pinch his chin, tucking his other hand under his armpit where it was pinned tightly against his ribcage.

.."when you are ready to embark, dusting your runes will numb them to you for a single day."

A single day. He glanced outside his window at the dark sky. In a few short hours the sun would rise on the day of their rescue attempt. By this hour tomorrow it would be long completed, whether successful or not.

"Should I wait until later? What if the timing is an estimate at best? Would it work a second time?"

The letter was not precise. No mention of the amount to be used to achieve the result promised. The bag had certainly held enough for a second application, if used sparingly. But would that suffice? Surely all that was required was for the runes to be coated, allowing whatever esoteric properties the dust held to numb their fel nature. The excess would just fall to the floor in any case.

Tentatively he reached out to pinch a bit of the dust between his fingers. It felt gritty yet fine, like the good quality talc women use to soften their skin following a bath. He brought it up to his nose to discern if it held any odor.

Nothing.

He glanced outside once more. In several hours they would be gathering. Those that would come to help rescue Evanthe.

Plenty of time...

He carefully replaced the pinch of dust to the pile and stood from his chair. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, folded it carefully and placed it over the arm of his chair so as not to wrinkle the delicate fabrics. He scooped a palm full of the fine bone dust into his right hand and carefully reached over his left shoulder to massage it over top of the rune that covered his left shoulder blade. Satisfied he took a bit more into his left hand and repeated the process with the rune on the right. He then lifted his hair in back and anointed the remaining rune at the base of his neck. The original rune, drafted by Alyiane. The progenitor of all his subsequent troubles.

Satisfied he brushed his hands together to clean off the reside. A little more than half the pile remained, enough for another application just before he left for the assault just for insurance.

He waited breathlessly for something to happen.. anything.

Nothing.

He paced his study as the minutes passed with no noticeable affect.

.."if there is dishonesty or manipulation afoot, at the very least you will become aware of it. Whether you act with your immunity, I daresay, is up to your own character."

Skafloc snorted at the words of the rogue. "Obviously there is nothing to worry about my unlikely friend."

He picked up his shirt and walked towards the door to his study. He had turned the knob and was halfway across the sill when the wave of vertigo hit him. The hallway narrowed in his vision and twisted, turning upside down on itself. His arm shot out to grasp for the wall as he felt his equilibrium fail. He started hyperventilating.

He felt his body fall, his hands flailed for anything to hold on to. Finding nothing he fell to the wooden floor to lie still, as the corridor swirled about him.

After a few moments the sensation of motion calmed and gradually the hall came back into clarity.

As did his mind.

With the sudden gasp of a drowning man who beyond all hope is pulled from the depths into the life giving air the knowledge and memory of the past two weeks flooded his thoughts with the sharpness of a marksman's arrow.

The pristine silence of the estate house was broken by the echoing cries of his anguish.

******************************

Chauncey bolted up in his bed at the sound. At first he thought of the stables, some beast had gotten into the pens surely.

As he listened however the true nature of the sound became clear.

Chauncey sighed.

"So it begins...."

[Skafloc]

He did a last minute equipment check as he waited in Lower City for Izrail. His hand rested on the small leather pouch at his belt, the remnants of the bone dust Fynne had supplied him with. His thoughts went out to the rogue, hoping that the message got to him in a timely fashion, so much was riding on that.

Failing that there was always the alternate plan.

He smiled at the sight of his brother arriving. Izrail for his part wore a mask of concern as he approached.

“Did Chauncey speak to you Skafloc?” he asked at once.

Skafloc nodded slightly. “In a fashion, there was not much time for him to go into too much detail.”

He asked about the runes, about Skafloc’s strange behavior. Skafloc sighed. “Later I can explain the entire tale to you in detail, but for now I can just tell you that yes I am myself, but only for a short time. The runes are dampened for now. Another six hours in any case. If needed I have enough dust for another application, but I do not wish to rely on it working again. “

Izrail grunted. “You should have come to me at first.”

Skafloc nodded solemnly, “Yes, that would have prevented many transgressions. I am sorry Izrail, I could not find you at the time and I was in a dire strait. But if you are willing, I will need you to take hold of them later, before the dust wears off.”

Izrail nodded. “I will try, but I am not all that familiar with runes.”

As they spoke he heard the distant rumble of machinery, growing in volume as the source drew nearer. Saphiara cleared the high wall of Shattrath with her flying machine and descended toward the pair. After shutting the engines down she dismounted and approached the pair. Skafloc welcomed her.

“I am glad you both are here. There is much to discuss. Now listen carefully, here is the plan…”

**********************************************

“Don’t kill anyone yet until I give the word!” Malorii barked at her minion, a slight Sin’Dorei girl with a wicked grin on her face as she skulked behind Skafloc with a sneer.

“So this is the guy with the pecker problem?” the girl said, toying with her daggers.

Skafloc turned to her with a stone cold expression, “watch your mouth wench.”

The girl made a rude gesture and started pacing the ledge behind the farstrider.

They were assembled high atop the roof of the manaforge, having descended from straight above to avoid detection. In the center of the concave bowl of the roof, Bir was preparing for the summoning ritual. Beside him stood Izrail, dividing his attention between observing what Bir was doing and keeping an eye on the two rogue women.

Malorii scowled at Izrail, “Do you have both kidneys?” Izrail frowned.

Bir responded to Malorii’s question “I think he does.”

My suspicions are right, there is a cause for concern. There is no telling what Malorii will do once we get Evanthe out of there. thought Skafloc. The atmosphere was becoming tenser by the minute as the last preparations were being seen under the curtain of threats and taunts by Malorii and her minion.

“Saphiara will remain here with Izrail to assist with the summons.” Said Skafloc. Malorii reacted immediately. “No! I don’t trust her, Lilei will stay here.”

“I won’t leave Izrail alone here. Not with her. Saphiara can stay, along with your person.”

Malorii didn’t have time to respond before the sound of dragon wings caused everyone to glance up at the rooftop opening.

Fynne.

Skafloc allowed himself a smile as he saw the human descend to the bowl of the roof, imposing himself into an already volatile situation. There was a collective exclamation of surprise from the assembled.

“What is HE doing here? Kill it!” said Malorii. Skafloc positioned himself between the rogue and the rest of the team. “He is here because I asked him to. He is hear to help.”

“I don’t trust him!” said Malorii. who do you trust? thought Skafloc. “He has no reason to want to help.”

“He has already helped. He found her Malorii. He knows where she is below. He can guide us. He also provided me the dust I needed to numb my runes.”

“Runes?” asked Malorii quizzically. Bir’s ears perked up.

“Runes! Of course!” He said with glee.

Skafloc took a deep breath. They were wasting time. The moment Visant arrived Skafloc nodded to Izrail and Saphiara. It now or never.

“Lets get this going.” Said Skafloc. Without waiting to see who followed he mounted up and launched himself into the air, rising with the currents. As he cleared the spires of the roof he passed a human woman hovering just above the opening.

Jilliane. Perfect. Bir is right, with all the mana conduits and ambient energies around the area, he would need two warlocks to summon Evanthe out of her prison area, to break through the wards.

But there may be more than one way to dampen arcane energies.

He nodded to her as he flew by. Malorii was hot on his tail, followed by Fynne, who fell in place beside Jilliane.

If she could not do it there was always the backup plan, but the timing of that would be much more delicate and Eva would be exposed for much longer a time.

This will have to work. he thought as he touched down before the opening to the underground complex and dismounted, bringing his weapons to the ready for the swift and brutal assault.