dreams Belzebeus...

[Belzebeus]

dreams Belzebeus...


I am in my own belt pouch. I cannot see, but I can feel my fingers wrap about me like a Timberwood Lurker as I reach in my belt pouch to extract myself. Delicately, I lift myself and at the breach of the bag, the world breaks.

Fantastic memory washed in the deep purples of the Cleft of Shadow overtakes me. My vision is blurred by my breath thick with the pungent aroma of an honest Orc mash. I roll an unlit cigar about my lips as I stagger for lucidity on the steps of the tavern trying vainly to remember that it is still unlit.I make a serious face. I feel no more sober but wonder if perhaps I might look so?

I hear them. I raise my hand to my face and stare at my palm considering conjuring a flame I am, but for what purpose? and I hear them: voices, a hushed conversation and a singular word: Banehollow. Whispered it is, there in the back alley of the Cleft of Shadows, and it is as much at home here as the screech of a white owl in Winterspring. I take a step.

I fall into the deep green stream of the sewers of the Undercity. Something fast. Something Long. Something at home here in the sewers snakes past and I realize: I am in a stream of Orc mash erupting from my own stomach. Vomitted forth, I fall toward the smooth stones of the pavement and before I land, I am overwhelmed.

The bridge. The Obsidian. The lava far below. The molten span of Blackrock Mountain. The smoke is harsh on my lungs. The soot is thick on my skin. The roar of flame is loud in my ear. It is all but a cold memory from so far ago. I look back but I already know, even before I turn my head, that he is not coming. I look forward and something tells me he is already there. I am surprised and alarmed. I am anxious and the sweat which falls isnt from the heat.

With a thunderous clamor of breaking rock and snapping stone the bridge gives way and again I fall. I fall up into a sky of flame erupting in clouds of malignant fumes. My body is whipped about the sulfurous winds in a poisonous fury. My endurance swells and I know I will die.

Through the clouds in a great brilliance it springs! It is the Eye! It sees me! In rapture I fall into the orb and it claims me deeply, swallowing me in a silence so bright it engulfs my vision and I am no more.

I wake. A broken unlit cigar moist with drool rests on my lip. Who is this Orc woman in my bed?

[Belzebeus]

Belzebeus' eyes adjusted both to the absence of light as well as the abundance of smoke which rose from the braziers to hang thick amongst the shadow. A Jaedenar roughian nodded in passing, and Belzebeus noted the wicked curve of the sacrificial blade at his belt. Belzebeus made his way deeper into the hold eventually arriving at the audience chamber and making his proper introductions and request. There they moved him to a second antechamber and asked him to wait.

He smiled to himself as he considered summoning an Eye with which to spy.

"No - " he thought,"Never send an Eye to spy on a demon. That's what warlocks are for."

He produced a cigar from his sleeve and rolled it about his hands considering it. He smelled it. Thinking twice, he returned it to his sleeve.

When the Jaedenar servant arrived, Belzebeus was hunched down on a bench, his chin against his chest, and his eyes closed in rest. Jumping, he mumbled something about meditation to the servant and then yawned deep motioning for the servant to lead on. The walk to the next chamber was not as long as Belzebeus had hoped, and as they crossed one of the many bridges deep in the hollows of the labyrinth he saw him, Banehollow, and Banehollow saw Belzebeus.

The Dreadlord was larger than he remembered, and his great bat-like wings crowned his girth. He was physically impressive but there was also an arcane aura which emanated power about him and commanded respect. A sinister grin broke his lips, "Belzebeus! How good of you to come!"

"I heard your call, and indeed I am here." and Belzebeus smiled remembering the words a great warchief once told him. What do Demons, Dragons, and Dames all have in common? They all enjoy a good bit of flattery. "And it is good to be here in the presence of such respected power."

Banehollow narrowed his gaze and then barred his teeth in a grin. "So how goes your work? What of the Nether Council? and its members?"

Belzebeus reached in his sleeve for his cigar, but thinking better of it, left it in its place. "The strength of the Nether Council wanes. Many of those who once supported it no longer do. The great Warchief Thrall no longer seeks the advice of the Council. Cairne no longer invites them to his Hall. What sway they hold with Sylvannus is unimportant as we both know."

Banehollow furrowed his brow and anger crept onto his face like ants across a dead carcass," If their usefulness is gone, then- "

"Pardon your Might- they are still useful. No need to throw the baby out with the bath water- "

"What?!? Of what child do you speak?!"

Belzebeus smiled."No no- just a turn of phrase my liege, my ever wise liege... The Nether Council is, can be, made useful again. The time is ripe. While the guilds Rush and Citadel may show no open support their interest might be renewed when the time is right. The House of Kai may be ruled by a handful of Trolls but they might also be pursuaded to gain Voljin's ear. Infection is, well, their loyalty to Sylvannus will be an easy means to manipulate them. Sanctuary.." and Belzebeus paused.

"What of this Sanctuary?"

"Nothing Lord Banehollow. A trifle. They seem to be the current moral compass of the Nether Council. The guidance of a shaman, it might make things more difficult but- It is nothing that should worry someone as powerful as yourself. In fact, their good might just be the easiest way to rein them."

"That leaves The Immortalis. What of them Belzebeus?"

"They are too caught up in selfserving drivel to pay much attention to the workings of the Nether Council. However- " and Belzebeus considered his words carefully," Karkarov of the The Immortalis, as the High Chancellor of the Nether Council, he pays great attention- but again, like most men he has a weakness."

"Oh he does! Joy! And what would HER name be?"

Belzebeus retrieved his cigar from his sleeve and with a flame conjured in his palm he lit it. "You will know my liege, when I do."

"And how do you intend to make the Nether Council useful to me again if it is filled with so much weakness?"

"Brick by brick, Lord Banehollow. They need a common enemy- the Scourge invasion is on our door step- the timing is perfect-"

"You have done well Belzebeus, for now... I will summon you again, when I wish."

In the deep of the Shadow Hold after the cigar smoke had long since dissipated, Banehollow whispers in the dark to another, "I cannot trust him. He lies too much. Go to his coven. Join his Eye of Kilrogg and find his secrets for me. You may have his coven when I am done with him."

[Vilmah]

((*shakes a fist* I'll trifle you...))