The Dagger, the Claw, and the Wind

[Fallacy]

((There, posted in the right forum.))

"Ekthan'tos... Ahzminnen...Ashpandarsh... Ni'cht ex dakhnah..."

The mutterings of these were in sync with Fallacy's footsteps as he trudged through the streets of Stormwind. Not a single other living being could be seen, nor would he have payed them much attention amongst the strewn remains of the dead. The canals had overflown with blood and sewage, and, if Fallacy had the concentration to notice such, the smell was overbearing. The water had come up to his ankles, impeding his march through the burning streets. Smoke rose into the sky, creating a dark blanket from the destroyed city and the fires that consumed the surrounding Elwynn Forest. He clutched his spear in one hand, but left the blade dragging against the stone path. Numerous, floating body parts bumped into his legs as he walked, but were so mutilated he could not tell their sources. Every once in a while, he saw a decapitated head floating among the more eviscerated pieces, and their last expression was always one of anguish. Luckily, he did not recognize a single one, until he came to the gates of the Keep. The water lapped on the ramp leading up to it, accompanied by a flow of blood coming down it. A collection of remains and ruined wood and stone had been caught their with the waves, where he found one head more discernable from the rest. He pulled it from the rest by the hair, and he gasped as he saw who it once belonged to. It was--

Fallacy burst up from his sleep, throwing the sheets off of him. He was panting heavilly, even though he had no lungs to draw breath with. The winds of Silithus whistled through a crack in the window cover, drawing Fallacy's sight to it. Almost reluctantly, he rose from the bed, and opened it, letting the moon cast eerie shadows across his quarters. He sat back on his bed, staring at the ground and the blue light that then covered it.

-What the hell was that? Another message from the Timeless One?-

A pot of water rested on a stand nearby, and Fallacy used a piece of runecloth to wipe his face, catching a few black streaks from the heat emanating from his skull. As he finished wiping his forehead, he removed the cloth from his face, and it was then that he noticed a shadow in the far corner. This one moved, independent of the ones that the moon created. He reached for his spear, which he always kept near him in his sleep, and threw it towards the movement. He heard a cry of pain, as he knew he had hit his target, but the door burst open, and whatever it was had run out before he could determine who or what it was. Fallacy did not sleep for the rest of the night.

Finally, morning came, and the Cenarian Sentinels nodded to him as he emerged from his quarters. One grasped his shoulder before he could get out of range, and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. "Baristolth is asking for you..."

Fallacy sighed at the news. Baristolth and himself almost acted exclusively of each other, being fellow Watchers of the Bronze Dragonflight. It was only extremely urgent if the night elf wanted a word with him, so he wasted no time tracking him down. Baristolth greeted him, unusually by placing a hand on his shoulder and with a smile.

"Hail, Herenth! Come, I must talk to you in private." He waved his other hand towards a space inbetween two buildings, and Fallacy went in first.

As soon as they both knew that they were alone, Fallacy tilted his head to the side, looking Baristolth up and down. "What is bothering you? You never address me that way, and know it is dangerous to."

Baristolth looked over his shoulder, even though he knew that no one had followed them. He shook his head, the smile disappearing from his face, and stared at Fallacy's confused expression.

"You never know who might be listening. We must always maintain our certainty, lest it be taken as a sign of weakness. Now, to business..."

Baristholth reached into a pouch on his waist, and removed a strange claw from it, about the size of a hand. It glittered with streaks of gold, informing Fallacy that it belonged to a bronze dragon, a young one, but not old enough to have shed it. The night elf tossed it to him, and Fallacy held it before his face, more intently studying it.

"That..." Baristholth sighed, "...is a call sign. Anachronos wants to speak with you."

Fallacy gave a quick glance at Baristolth before looking at the claw again. He placed it into his own bag, and, only a few minutes later, he had fetched Amnennar to begin his ride towards Un'Goro.

((To be continued...))

[Rhowen-Prea]

(( I like it. Dare I ask for more? ))

[Sojii]

{{one question ... how fast do I have to level to play along? :D }}

[Fallacy]

((Yeah, I'm lazy. I'll get the next part up today, hopefully...))

[Fallacy]

((Okay, I'm a bum. The next part is still unfinished, and I wanted to get it completely done before today. Hopefully, I won't have to bash my skull in to remember.))

[Fallacy]

((Part 2: I know it’s been a while, but I’m killing myself to get this one done. And, ‘Brig, you make a guest appearance, just to let you know.))

Fallacy had to place a hand on his forehead to block out the sun as he emerged from the Crater. After being under the dark treetops, the light was almost umbearable, and it was even worse when one didn’t have eyelids. The orange points of light that had replaced his eyes darted from side to side across the sand, while his horse, Amnennar, plowed on towards the Caverns of Time. His thoughts were alight with wonder as to what the son of the Timeless One could have that was so urgent to have Baristolth send for him as such. His mind was also distraught by the intruder he had found in his quarters the night before. He hadn’t sent for anyone, nor knew anyone that could easily break the arcanite lock he had especially placed to bar entrance to the room. He was so distracted, that he did not notice that he had arrived at the entrance until he saw one of the younger of the brood about to swoop down on him. Fallacy reached into the pouch on his waist, removed the claw he had recieved from Baristolth, and held it high over his head. The dragon stopped its descent by spreading its wings, blotting out the sun above him. It settled not far off, panting, but nodded to Fallacy to let him know that he could pass, and he rode on.

Anachronos stood ever vigilant before the door to the Caverns of Time, unmoving and silent. Fallacy raised the claw once again. It shone differently in the Tanaris sun, much brighter and golden, unlike under the haze of Silithus and the canopy on Un’Goro. It was easily noticeable to the dragon’s eye, and he stamped a foot at his arrival.

“You are here sooner than I believed you could make it, Watcher. Did Baristolth deliver my message?”

Fallacy dismounted and knelt before Anachronos before addressing him, lowering his chin to his chest as to not look directly at him. “He did, master. I left Silithus as soon as I recieved it.”

The dragon’s voice hummed as he spoke. “Do you know why I have called you here, before me?”

Fallacy’s voice as shaky as he replied. “No, I do not, master.”

Anachronos sighed and shook his head. “It is the duty of a Watcher to be wary of his surroundings and the intentions of others. However, that is not the only duty you have failed in.”

Fallacy’s head rose in shock. “Master, have I not served faithfully? What have I done to displease you?”

The great dragon sighed again. “As you know, you do not have a great reception among the Alliance, being what you are. Baristolth is my representative among the Cenarian Circle, which is free from the politics between the races. While the Horde becomes well informed due to your teachings, the Alliance falters and loses sight of the true state of the world. Staghelm has failed me once again.”

“But, master, I have tried to gain a voice among them. It just has not been easy finding a suitable new Watcher.” Even though he had no throat, Fallacy felt as though a lump had formed in it.

“Nonetheless, I do not appreciate failure. If you do not show your use to the order of Azeroth, you are of no more consequence than the sand you stand on. Now, go. You have your orders, carry them out.”
Fallacy did not move, but remained in the same position, slightly trembling. After a few minutes, he rose and called Amnennar to him, and set off for Gadgetzan. There was a certain goblin he wanted to have a word with.

Gadgetzan was known to be a home of villainy, of all sorts of characters that would do anything for a gold piece. Fallacy had one such person in contact, Grizzin Crankwhirl. The goblin had no idea of Fallacy’s allegiance, only that he was a constant source of gold for slipping information to spies in Stormwind. Crankwhirl lived just outside of the town, between it and Steamwheedle Port. The hut he lived in was alive with the sound of various gadgets in perpetual motion without any direction. Without those sounds, it would have been perfectly silent. Fallacy was never one to knock, so he walked in without any sort of introduction. The hut’s roof was short, built for a goblin, so he had trouble going through it without one of Crankwhirl’s inventions being bumped into.

“Grizzin! Grizzin? Where is that blasted goblin?” He rounded the corner to Crankwhirl’s lab, and found why his calls had been unanswered. Crankwhirl was lying face down on the ground, a dagger placed well within his back. Fallacy cursed when he saw that his agent had been murdered. He knelt down to inspect the body, and the weapon that had killed him. The dagger seemed familiar. It had a golden hilt, incrusted with aquamarine.

Fallacy reached for his belt. The sheath where the Goldweaver dagger was kept was empty, and he knew the one that had killed Crankwhirl had to have been the same intruder he had found before. Whoever it was must have taken it and used it to kill the goblin, and Fallacy had not even noticed it had gone missing. He scoured the building for any trace that the killer might have left, but found nothing. Fallacy cursed himself for his stupidity, and ran out.

A few hours later, Fallacy was in the Undercity. Decimate kept it’s headquarters among the sewers at the discretion of Malebrignon. Fallacy strolled into the guild master’s office, nodding to his fellow Decimators along the way. The paddle-ball was resting in the lich’s hand, easliy making it’s mark after so much time of practice. ‘Brig seemed distant as he played with it, but Fallacy’s intrusion brought his attention.

“Ah, hiya, Fal! What has the Nerubian warrior been up to?”

Fallacy smiled (somehow without cheeks or lips) and nodded before closing the door behind him. “Fine, just fine.”

He peered at the door he had just closed, and, being sure that no one was pressed against it to listen in, he took a step farther into the room.

“Truth is, someone’s been following me, possibly trying to kill me. It knows much more about me than it should, and I’m not sure what my next move should be. It killed a... uh... friend of mine. I need you to place someone on the trail while I take care of my business, to find out who and why whoever it is is doing this, maybe Dewce, or Grooda.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound too good. I’ll see what I can do.” Fallacy had to chuckle at ‘Brig’s playful innocence, despite the amount of blood on his hands. It was a quality he had treasured in Decimate’s leader, to be optimistic in dire situations.

“I trust you will.” With that, Fallacy gave a flourish of his cape, and exited the Decimate headquarters.

The day had been long, but the Undercity almost never remained quiet enough for him to get rest. An empty farm lied not too far from Brill, so Fallacy took up residence on the upper floor of the farmhouse. He did not sleep, as he never did since his rebirth, but the lack of movement eased the weariness he had earned from his travels, and his mind slipped from consciousness to a state of contemplation, unaware of his surroundings.

[Sojii]

{{ Sojii's looking for you. You can be difficult to find, however. :? }}

[Fallacy]

((Alright, if no one noticed, I'd like some interaction with someone from the Alliance. A conversation or two is all, but Fallacy needs to find someone to help complete his task in finding a voice among the Alliance, lest he finds himself at the wrong end of Anachronos's wrath.))

[NorthFace]

((If he was an RPer I'd say you could talk to Bateman from our guild.. since he's been the designated septer-bearer to open the gates. We call him BatemAhn'Qiraj. = ) Unfortunately I don't think he does any RP. If I knew more about the whole thing I might find a way to interject myself... but Northface already serves the green dragonflight. ;) ))

[Fallacy]

((If he was an RPer I'd say you could talk to Bateman from our guild.. since he's been the designated septer-bearer to open the gates. We call him BatemAhn'Qiraj. = ) Unfortunately I don't think he does any RP. If I knew more about the whole thing I might find a way to interject myself... but Northface already serves the green dragonflight. ;) ))

((It's not a problem. I'm just asking that if anyone would be interested, or if you know someone that would be interested that doesn't read these boards, please let me know. It doesn't have to be a dedication to my own story, just a slight correspodence.))

[Fallacy]

((Part Three!))


Sunlight poured in from a broken window, rousing Fallacy from his unconscious state. No sounds of life could be heard greeting the sunrise, as none had been since the tainting of the Glades, but the silence still unnerved him. He quickly gathered up his possessions and left the farmhouse empty. The Undercity had not changed with the passing of the night, as the city was still bustling with the activities of the Forsaken. Fallacy bypassed visiting the Decimate Headquarters, and, instead, went directly to see the bat trainer. He slipped the trainer a few coins and took off on a bat towards Hammerfall.

The hills of Arathi were serene as ever, as just the sight of them filled Fallacy with a sense of nostalgia. His former homeland had become fraught with the tension that had spilled over from Hillsbrad, and, to save his life, Fallacy had to kill some of his former countrymen. It hurt him to see their blood staining his weapons, but he understood that it was necessary to achieve what he strove for. They did not understand what he had become, and they hunted him for it. For him, the only options were to gain a voice among the Alliance, or be forced to eliminate those who would obstruct order. He felt it was his duty to end such murder and chaos, but, despite all his efforts, none had answered in return, only with hostility because of his physical state. He was becoming distraught that his attempts were futile, and he would have to keep killing those he would rather have spared.

Fallacy passed the bats reins to an orc as he dismounted, and left the town, heading towards the coast. He stayed off the roads to prevent being followed, until he reached a small cave just west of the Thandol Span. He sat down on a rock inside, and waited, watching the entrance to the cave. After a few minutes, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see a dark figure standing behind him. It was dressed in almost all black, except for a white mask that covered its face, revealing only its eyes.

“I just hate how you do that.” Fallacy stood to greet the figure.

“It’s what I do best.” It pulled back a mask to reveal the smiling face of a man. They grasped each other’s hand and shook strongly.

“How are you doing, Herenth?” The man’s blue eyes looked him over.

“As well as I can, for a corpse.” He looked over the man’s shoulder out of the cave. “No one followed you here, you are sure?”

The man laughed at the question. “Try worrying about your own skin... er, bones, rather.”

Fallacy laughed with him, but stopped after removing a letter from his pouch.

“Now, to business. Please deliver this to the usual person.” He held out the letter for the man to take, and the man concealed it on his body. As he turned to leave, Fallacy grabbed his shoulder to stall him.

“Oh, and, brother, be careful. I fear someone is after my life, and they may target you, as well.”

The man nodded and went to the entrance to the cave.

“One more thing before I leave...”

Fallacy chuckled and tossed a gold piece to him. “Of course.”

After catching the coin, he left the cave and disappeared among the hills. As soon as he was confident the man was gone, Fallacy went out to the waterside. He tossed a few pebbles and watched the ripples spread as the sun began to set. A wind began to blow down from Alterac, chilling the air greatly and blowing his cloak about him, but the cold no longer affected him. Soon, the moon shined in the waters reflection, and was distorted by the ripples Fallacy continued to make. Throughout the night, he did not move from that spot, but stood on the waters edge watching the distorted reflection.

[Fallacy]

((There. Next part's up.))

[Fallacy]

((This will be my last addition to this story. One short little plot twist, and I'm done.))

Fallacy greeted the rising sun with a simple song hummed, wordless, but the origins of the song were Nerubian, about the light reflecting off the Icecrown Glacier as the sun rose, long before the arrival of the Lich King, and the empire of Azjol-Nerub was at peace. As its face peeked over the edge of the mountains surrounding the land, eventually, his thoughts drifted, and the song transformed into one he remembered from his youth, a song of Strom. Once he realized that he had been unconciously singing it, he immediately stopped, looking about as if he was being watched. After being sure that no one had overheard him, he looked out over the water again for a few minutes, listening to the water lapping up against the rocks, before leaving for Hammerfall.

The roads were empty that early in the day, and Fallacy walked in peace back to the orcish settlement. At least, he believed that for a short time, until he heard something odd in his footsteps, as though the sound seemed off with his foot coming in contact with the ground. He realized that it wasn't the sound of his steps, but those of someone who was trying to mask their own in his. He loosed his spear from the strap on his back, sweeping it in a circle around him to make sure that whoever it was wasn't magically invisible nearby him. Nothing. Without knowing where or who his stalker was, Fallacy decided it better to make a run for it. He held his spear out to his side, pointing it horizontally, and ran for Hammerfall's gates, cursing his pursuer all the way.

Feeling safe within the walls, an urge for a strong drink was overwhelming at that point. Fallacy placed his spear back in its sling, and made for the inn. He quickly placed an order for some wine with the innkeeper, and sat silent in a corner. The innkeeper had to carefully scan the building to spot him back there, but hustled over to deliver the glass. The wine level slowly lowered as he took sips from it, but, before he could finish it, a familiar figure entered the inn and immediately approached him. The female orc was followed be a lion, and was grinning at him as she came close.

"Fallacy! Grooda here ta bring ya news from da big boss!" She took a seat at the same table he was sitting at. "Grooda found da guy who been followin' youz. He be a pinkie."

Fallacy straigthened up at that. "A human?"

Grooda shook her head. "No, one o' da elfies. Not da purple ones, but da ones wit da golden tops. Grooda found he has name, too. Called 'Rithdal Hawkcall.' So, what did Fal do ta make dis elfie so angry?"

Fallacy shook his head in disbelief. The name was so shocking to hear, after leaving his past behind him after his death. He remembered the High Elf's face, so similar to the one he most desperately wanted to forget. His attempts to kill Fallacy were obvious to him, then. Vengeance for his lost sister, even though Fallacy knew nothing of her whereabouts, or whether she was even still alive, and only anger would have driven Rithdal to attempt to kill him.

Fallacy rose from his seat, not answering Grooda or even dismissing her. He just walked out of the inn, past the gates, and disappeared into the hills once again.