Ranavos

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Silvermoon, the most majestic city of all. It towers over the forested lands with its gold and silver sheen, watching over its kin with devoted vigilance. The city has been empty as of late. One would assume that efforts were poured into the war with the Alliance mages in the Thunder Isles. Not like anyone was complaining, it just meant that the city wasn’t as guarded as the Orc capital.

Midnight.

Overlooking the towering walls of Silvermoon was a lone figure shrouded in the foliage of a tree. Illusional magic helped the figure blend into the leaves at the cost of a tremendous amount of Mana, mimicking how they dance in the wind with grace was no easy feet. Speaking of easy feet, sneaking into this land wasn’t a cakewalk. Stopping to rest and regain Mana constantly to make sure his illusions were at peek quality to be unnoticed by any Mana sensitive Blood Elf. He did not disguise himself as one of them, no. He stayed as far away from them as possible, using magic to mimic his surroundings and to bend them around his physical form, making him almost invisible to the naked eye.

Using this technique, Ranavos Abner and gotten as close as he could get to the Blood elf capital. He dare not use his skills to sneak into the city all alone. The guards there were trained, armed, not stupid to fall for such a mage trick, but perhaps they would fall for an “An unheard of trick”?

The lich set down his satchel on the tree branch and began to empty it. He carried with him three runed plates of steel and a spider-like construct that was build from metal. The small construct remained lifeless, its limbs motionless. Ranavos attached the runed plates onto the spiders back, clipping it on with ease before pumping Mana into it.

The spider came to life, squirming about in his hands. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, focusing on the small creature. A moment after, it stopped and with it, Ranavos’ movements as well. He stayed balanced on the tree, but his mind was now focused on controlling the construct. It hopped out of his hand and descended down the tree, skittering about in a prowling fashion until finally scaling the ruined walls left by the Dead Scar and into the city.

Murder Row, such an appropriate name... Ranavos, now controlling the spider construct directly, skittered about, making sure no guards saw him. First, he placed one of the runed plates near a tree, the second was placed on a ledge, near the overhanging cloth that covered the sky in the ally way. And the third plate-

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Ranavos’ mind snapped back into his body with an agonizing pain in his chest, a steel ringing in his ears. His balance faltered , but not enough to make him fall. He could not detect his puppet anymore. It made him sad that he lost a creation that was forged by his own hands... At least it’s for the better. Taking in a few calming breaths and scanning his surroundings, the mage charged up for one final spell.

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“What do you have there?”

“A metallic spider by the looks of it.”

“Gnomish?”

“Perhaps, it reeks of the same magic used to power our Arcane Constructs. Lets take it to the local construct expert. Whatever it is, I hope we caught it quickly, who knows what information it had gathered.”

The two Silvermoon night guards headed out of the ally, the small construct impaled on a silver weapon. As the two excited Murder Row and entered the Court of the Sun, they had heard a small humming noise, a noise all too familiar to Blood Elfs. The sound of magic about to go critical. The two guards instinctively lifted their towering shields and hid behind them, protecting practically their entire body.

The Steel runic charges went off. Creating a small explosion within the ally. Crimson fire ate away at the tree and overhanging cloth. The only real damage was the explosion site, the walls were charred and cracked. Lucky, no one was injured, not even the guards.

One guard peeked out to see the damage before giving a hearty chuckle, playfully nudging his partner. “Whoever this person is, he’s not very good at causing harm.”

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The sun peeked over the city’s walls. The fires were put out, all that was left to do was to clean up.

Later the Construct Expert came out publicly to discuss her findings in the main Court.. The small spider construct was made of simple steel, powered by the Arcane, as all constructs are. Fragments of the exploded steel substance were recovered. They were powered by runes, Dwarven runes are most likely, but not enough pieces were recovered to complete the picture. The construction style of the device was Gnomish.

“...And what fool would engrave their own initials into something they are sending into enemy territory?”

Underneath the spider construct, the initials R. A were clearly evident.

“Feel free to find out who did this. He or she might strike again, but-” She chuckled and she raised the lifeless construct into the air for the crowd to see. “- I doubt this pathetic display of power would harm our glorious race!”

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Bella had heard of the strange machine that was found, they were displaying it, offering a free man hunt for the creator. She was allowed pardon from her time on Thunder isles to hunt down the person behind the metal like spider. Orion was with her, the black massive wolf being the best at tracking scents as well as most loyal to Bella. Making her way to the front of the crowd she let the wolf take a few smells at it, taking a few of her own. The Arcane made her eyes dilate and then flutter as she fought with herself to remain in control. “R.A” she muttered quietly to herself as she traced her elongated fingers over the runes.

She took a few notes then tapped her nail against her mail leggings, the sound got Orion’s attention and he trotted in behind the hunter. They continued that way until they made their way to the Elder Walk. There was sharp whistle from the Huntress and the wolf leap out in front of her posing it’s nose upwards, his body was ridged as he remained like that for a while. The wolf was trying to catch any hint of the scent from the wind that was blowing through the woods.

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Orion let out a bark, signifying he had picked up a scent. Bella gave a nod to the hound, to which he took off into the woods. Looking over her shoulder, the Huntress noticed the Priestess, the women’s face bringing back memories she thought were dead to her. She gave a saddened smile before setting off into the woods after her wolf. Bella was walking, she could hear the sound of Orion’s barks, and they had changed slightly; meaning the trail he was following was a weak one. While weak it could still give them some clue as to who sent the mechanical creature into their home.

As Bella continued to walk she looked around trying to notice anything out of place, maybe something that was dropped during the getaway, a print from either their mount or the person themselves. All she could tell at first glance were a few upset Dragonhawks, but Orion could have easily caused that, his seer size was something to beware if he was barreling through.

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Ranavos was long gone from his hiding spot after his attack on Silvermoon. The odd thing was, that he had not teleported back home, his sent trail and footprints led to the Ghostlands, crossing to the Western Plaguelands, then to the Eastern Plaguelands and finally to Tirisfal Glades... A skilled tracker would notice that his prints would seem about a day old.

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A personal illusion surrounded Ranavos’ flesh, making him look decayed like a normal corpse should. Sneaking though the sewers was the best option to get into the Undercity. The lich tried to act casual walking by the Orcs that guarded the sewage tunnel, they both glared at him, but said nothing.

After passing them and getting out of their sight, the mage kept in the shadow. He knew the Undercity extremely well, but something has changed. The mindless abomination brutes were replaced by smarter, more armoured Orcs, which would explain the ones by the sewage entrance. This would present a problem. The Orcs seemed more vigilant, keeping a close eye on any Forsaken that crossed their vision. Through travelling, his royal attire wasn’t so royal anymore, it was stained with dirt, his boots covered in mud, sewage water and strands of lose threads poked out. He looked like a normal Forsaken alright, but still, he wouldn’t risk it by waltzing by the guards. Now he was in the War Quarter.... Now was the time to cause some havoc.

A hooded figure sat by the ledge of the small bridge that went over the green slime in the War Quarter. Trying not to look obvious, whenever a guard would look at someone else, Ranavos would quickly sketch a portion of a rune onto the side of the stone bridge before the guard would return his gaze toward his location. This repeated multiple times until the rune was complete.

Time for some mischief.

He eyed the guard, taking off his hood while keeping his gaze on the Orc. The Orc look back, seeing nothing but a decayed animated corpse. Until, that is, the mage dispelled his illusion. Now more human looking than ever, he grinned at the Orc and stood up, taunting him before skittering off into the inner ring of the War Quarter.

“Alliance scum!” The Orc yelled, alerting two more to his position and gave chase heading towards the bridge, enraged and reckless. One of the responding guards caught a faint glow coming from the bridge and she knew that rune shouldn’t be there.

“Don’t cros-!”

The rune exploded as the chasing guard was dead center on the bridge, causing him and the stone to crumble into the green sewage. Ranavos didn’t stick around to confirm the kill, but just seeing a guard fall into a trap like that was far to satisfying. Now he had the entire War Quarter market area after him, Orc and Forsaken alike. His escape plan? He jumped on one of the stone pillars in the inner Ring, scaled its lose cobblestones and jumped off to the second level overhanging the market area. Confident that the bulky Orcs couldn’t follow him here, Ranavos sped off into the small, dark corridors.

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The clang of steel on steel echoed throughout the fetid halls of the Undercity's war quarter as three armored Forsaken warriors, freshly risen from their state of decay, were flung across the room and slammed hard into the stone walls. Keraph Xalascent, once Warlord of the Dark Lady's elite, now an Executor in the Forsaken army after the disgrace and downfall of Infection following the discovery of a rogue element within the fold that was commiting brutal murders upon the Kor'kron overseers, mocked the scattered warriors, disparaging their skills and inviting them to try once more to harm him. He had been spending what time he had, outside of patrols across the newly expanded Forsaken territory and hunts on what remained of the Gilnean mutts after Her Majesty's forces crushed their kingdom, personally training a selection of fresh recruits with the most potential. While he had lost command of Infection, his favor in the eyes of the Dark Lady had ensured that he lead a small company of Forsaken knights in securing Her territories, a role that was incredibly similar to his duties before the Scourge came.

As the trainees rushed the veteran warrior to make a second attack, finally showing some initiative and strategy and flanking from both sides while the strongest of the three attacked head on, there was a sudden and abrupt explosion from the canal. Taking the opportunity to teach the neophytes something about filtering out distractions, Keraph didn't miss a beat as he parried the first blow from his left, disarming his attacker in the process and swinging his blade to catch the head of the second attacker with it's pommel, knocking him down. He rushed the foremost trainee, who had turned to face the explosion when it happened, and sheathing his weapon grabbed the initiate's jaw from behind and spun him around, tearing the jaw off cleanly in the process. Without stopping to check on the status of any of them, he stepped past the floored Forsaken to see what had happened, and saw the destroyed bridge and the Kor'kron guards in pursuit of the explosion's cause, a shrouded figure that had taken to the upper ring of the district. Smirking, he turned to quickly bark orders to the recovering trainees, telling the first to pick his jaw up and lead the other two in the other direction, in case the target doubled back, before rushing forward to cut him off. This mysterious attacker was clever to use the oft-underutilized upper passages, but few knew them as well as the warrior and his erstwhile fold, and Keraph knew how to get ahead of his prey.

Within moments, the warrior had taken advantage of a discrete passageway up, and was reasonably sure that he was ahead of the one who had caused the explosion. He positioned himself at the entrance of one of the narrow passages between districts, and listened patiently. Without the distractions of a heartbeat or any other functioning internals, he waited in silence until he heard the patter of hasty footsteps coming down the passage, and counting out the timing in his head, swung the flat of his greatsword across the entryway, intent on stopping the invader in his tracks.

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Bella stopped in her tracks; she had noticed something that her quick scan of the area missed. There was a distinct foot print in the dirt, placing her own into it. It was clearly bigger then her own, tilting her head to the side she found another, and placed her other foot into that one, then another and another till she looked up and noticed a trail. If the attacker was in Ghostlands they would have heard by now. “Undercity” she spoke to herself, it was loud enough for anyone follow to hear, before taking off in a sprint, As she ran she let out a loud cry. “OOOOOOOORRRRRRIIIIIOOOOOONNNNN HHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLL” the wolf would know the command, and come to his masters, and after a while the black beast appeared from the forest running next to the huntress with ease. Grabbing a fist full of fur she pulled herself up into the wolf’s back. Pressing her chest against Orion’s back she kept herself low, making sure to keep his stream line appearance. He took off again, bounding through the land on their way to the Forsaken city.

As they entered the glade, Bella could see bat after bat leaving the city, people on their mounts trying to avoid the intruder. “Sic em” Bella whispered into the beast’s ear and with that simple command Orion got his last burst of speed, taking them quickly into the city. Upon entering the city Orion quickly tracked down the scent of the intruder, he whimpered and whined as they waited for the elevator to come up and then go back down and let them into the city itself. Once they stepped off the elevator it was obvious as to the nature of the attack, All the guards had left their post, but the few at the elevators themselves, checking everyone trying to leave the city. She tilted her head and smiled as one of the orcs gave her a sneer, the last time she was here, her group had killed some guards and blown up the Apothcary.

They made quick work of following the guards to the inner circle of the city, many of which were looking up. “There’s an up?” Bella spoke out loud and huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

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Sprinting along the dark hallway on the upper floor, Ranavos made no intentions of turning back, he was no in the mood of getting pumped full of arrows. The lich knew that these halls were unused and unguarded, it was perfect to make a clean getaway. Once he gets into the clear, he would repeat the cycle, causing as much chaos as he can before the situation gets to intense for him.

Ranavos looked over his shoulder while running to see if anything was tracking him, no one was in sight, good-

-The air was knocked out of his lungs as his legs slipped up, causing him to fall on his back on the stone floor, gasping for air and writing in pain. He yelled in agony though his teeth in an attempt to muffle his voice. Glowing blue eyes sprinted around to see whatever stopped him like that, all the while still gasping for air.

His eyes locked on to a heavily armed Forsaken. Warrior by the looks of it. Ranavos laid there attempting to block the pain from his abrupt fall. If he got up and ran the other way, the guards would be waiting for him...

...With a mental sigh, he faced his opponent with a wide grin. “How’s it going?”

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Keraph smirked as he felt the impact of a body slamming against the flat of his blade and dropping to the ground. It was a human, which is all he needed to know before lining up the killing blow. The warrior just enjoyed seeing the face of his enemy before he killed them, that last look of pain and horror his reward for laying them low. He swung his blade upwards and brought it down hard, and only at the last second did a hint of recognition strike him, and he pulled his blow to prevent a kill. Only just barely did he do so though, and it did not seem accidental that the weight of the blade still fell squarely on the human's chest, crushing any flimsy armor that may have been protecting him and breaking at least a few ribs.

Not willing to let his target react, he further presses the blade down, puncturing skin by only an inch or so, but providing enough incentive for his prey to stay put. He narrows his eyes a long moment at the half-familiar human before speaking to him in a derisive tone. "Abner, is that you? And if it is, you best be very prepared to give me a good reason why you look so...healthy, and why you are blowing up bridges in -my- quarter."

As he speaks, he hears the Elven priestess approach. Arching his neck around to see her, but keeping his blade solidly pinned on the human, he hastily spits out "Forsaken business, at the moment. I doubt your services will be needed, Sin'dorei."

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Ranavos’ greatcoat provided little protection against the blade as it sunk into his flesh, cracking a rib or two, lucky nothing vital was hit. Of course, being able to feel pain, he hissed though his teeth as he felt the cold steel in his flesh. Struggling would prove useless as that would only drive the blade in further. The lich looked at the Forsaken and was about to spit out some hateful words regarding their brainwashed nature when the word Abner met his ears. Abner.... Oh, that’s right, Venedict was very popular with the Forsaken, perhaps Ranavos can weasel his way out of this.

“Of course it’s me!” He snarled, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. “You don’t recognize me? Hmm... It has indeed been a long time.” Ranavos knew his charade wasn’t going anywhere, him and Venedict didn’t spent quality time together in the past, thus, Ranavos didn’t know how to properly mimic the Grand Necromancer. Hopefully this Forsaken isn’t bright.

“I... I have been studying ways on how to preserve my body properly. Like the results?”

His eyes ventured to the Blood Elf who had just join in on the scene. Yes, he had remembered her, seeing her lurking around in the Orc capital. Hopefully she wouldn’t blow his cover. That would be unlikely.

“As for the bridge... I was testing out a new method of magic. Destructive yes, but I think we can both agree that Orc had it coming.” He gave a grin at the Forsaken. An evil, Grand Necromancer-ish grin.

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Somewhere behind the group, the shadows twisted and rippled, and Nika slipped close enough to hear. She just so happened to be in Undercity when the alarms begin sounding, alerting the guards to the presence of an intruder. The sound of the explosion and responding shouts came shortly after.. but Nika had scarcely blinked. Her attention was fixated on an old familiar enemy.

Keraph Xalascent. It had been a long time since she'd seen her old nemesis. She had been watching him spar with the younger warriors when the commotion started, and while she was curious to know who was attacking the city.. she wasn't letting Keraph out of her sight just yet.

After Keraph finished dispatching the warrior he was fighting and headed off towards the source of the fighting, Nika swiftly followed. Like a cat slinking through the darkness, she padded silently after him. By the time she caught up to him, he had already pinned the victim to the ground. Nika blinked, a frown deepening on her face. Ranavos..

Keeping quiet for now, she kept an eye on the situation as it unfolded. Her eyes flickered to the female elf that wandered onto the scene. Svetlaena.. This complicated things. On several occasions, Nika had witnessed Svetlaena's husband, Duroxas, chasing Ranavos out of Orgimmar. This didn't bode well for him.. and there was nothing she could do at the moment but keep carefully hidden, and watch..

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For a long, silent moment did Keraph stand over the human who claimed to be Venedict Abner, who himself was once an underling of the warrior. It had been months since Venedict had disappeared, cryptically speaking of some manner of research or experimentation, so it was not so bizarre that if this was indeed him, he looked the way he did now. His research methodology was generally much more...subtle...than the act of blowing up Forsaken property, but the necromancer was also not the most stable Forsaken that Keraph had met, so nothing was too terribly out of line from what he would expect of Venedict. After deliberating, he cautiously lifted the blade from the would-be Abner, though he kept it in hand should anything suspect occur. He did not trust even his own allies, and among them he considered Venedict one of the least-trustworthy, so he kept himself prepared to continue aggressive action if it was proven to be needed.

"Slaughtering the Kor'kron watchdogs is what got Infection into such immense trouble in the first place, Venedict." Keraph spoke with an irritated frustration, "I will not mourn the filth that was killed by your 'experiment', but we are already on thin ice, and Hellscream has only grown more unstable in his...treatment of those who would oppose his rule. The last thing I need is a member of the fold caught committing acts of treason that we have already barely escaped full retribution for. You of all people should be wiser than that."

The warrior looked ready to strike at who he perceived to be Venedict a second time, but kept his anger just barely in check.

"And where the fel have you been, anyways? I trust you are not continuing to squander Forsaken resources on cosmetics and a poor replacement for what already exists as explosives."

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Ranavos relaxed as the blade drew out of him. He couldn’t believe that the Forsaken bought his act. He shifted on his knees and sat like that, he was not fully well to stand up just yet and his broken ribs obviously hindered him. He placed a hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. “Yes, yes...” He nodded to Keraphs statement. “I should of been more wiser in my actions. As for where I have been, I have been travelling across the globe in search of other forms of Magic. I have come across a lot lately, it can prove valuable in the future and beneficial in our Order.” At least that was the truth.

Then, then Blood Elf pipped in. Thank the Titans that she didn’t recognize him from the past. Confessing to her accusation would conflict with what he had just made up, being Venedict Abner. “Hmm? Something happened in Silvermoon?” He shook his head, denying it. “I haven’t been there in a long time.”

The lich winced in agony as the pain slowly started to return. He turned to Keraph, an urgency in his voice. “I require medical assistance.”

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Looking around, still amazed there is more to this underground sewer then she could imagine. Her mind started to wander about what else could be here when a dull thud and sounds of yelling caught her attention, pulling her back to the matter at hand. Orion had placed his nose back into the air trying to find the scent, but the smell of the rotting city confused the hound. Her lips turned into a frown as she watched him trudge through the green slime trying to pick up the scent that seemed to linger in the air. “Orion.. No.. not that… I’m not cleaning…” she huffed softly as she left the beast to his own wishes. She needed to find a way up to where the noise had come from. She made sure her steps were light, but the metal still made a ka-klink noise as she moved around, her feet however were nothing more than a few straps and a thin, but sturdy piece mail. Her eyes were scanning all around, looking for a way up, maybe an out of sight corridor.. this place was littered with them. Even a stair case would be helpful but she found none.

Just as she was ready to give up a slight breeze came through the old stone city, it caused some of the tapestries to flutter. Rising off the wall, expelling some dust.. and another green noxious looking cloud. The cloud, which she swore killed a nearby rat made her frown, but it was going to be her best bet. Pulling on her gloves to make sure her finger tips where exposed, she grabbed hold of the fabric and placed a foot on the wall. Her toes found their ways into the lines of the stone work. “This might work.” She said to herself matter of factly and started to climb. Every few steps she’d step on some slime, or put her hands in a spider web..both of which would cause her to give out a squeal and a whimper. Finally she found her way to the upper ledge, she crawled over the stone wall, landing almost on her face as she did. “How do the monkeys make it look so easy…” She huffed and puffed, trying to catch her breath.

Upon standing, after catching her breath, she made her way around the inner circle, stumbling upon the Forsaken, the Priestess that had followed her in Silvermoon and another humanoid claiming to need medical attention.

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Keraph had hardly furrowed a brow at the Blood Elf's mention of activity in other cities, but the second that 'Venedict' had claimed a need for medical attention, the warrior's suspicions were once again raised. Quirking an eyebrow and tightening his grip on the vicious-looking greatsword in his hand reflexively, he posed a question in a voice ripe with accusation. "And why exactly would that be?" Luckily for the intruder, he came to his own derisive conclusion almost immediately, not missing an opportunity to look down on the necromancer for wasteful or counter-productive experimentation. "It would seem to me that you've engineered yourself a weakness. What good is the restoration of flesh and blood if it comes with the detriments that we, as a superior and blessed race, have overcome?" He scoffs arrogantly, turning away from his fellow 'Forsaken' and looking down over the lip of the inner ring to the district below. The hustled marching of Kor'kron boots still echoed through the area, and the warrior knew that it would not be long before others arrived to investigate the mysterious attacker.

As if on queue, another Sin'dorei stumbled onto the scene. Keraph tensed, almost ready to strike at the newcomer before assessing that she was likely not a threat. Sighing at the amount of attention this little gathering was sure to draw, and knowing what sort of position he would be in if he were to be implicated alongside his former subservient in the death of another Kor'kron overseer, the warrior decided that it was not prudent for him to remain at the attacker's location any longer.

"Pick yourself up off the floor and get yourself out of this mess that you've created. If you are lucky, one of these elves can lend you aid, and you will report to me in what remains of Infection's quarters within the city." He walks past the Venedict-impersonator, callously stepping over his hunched form as he proceeds down the corridor, stopping to speak once more in a clearly disapproving tone. "If not, have the decency to bleed out and die quickly. It will be a much more preferable fate than capture at the hands of the Kor'kron."

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Standing on the balls of her feet, she noticed a rather large amount of blood on the stone. The Forsaken, and by the size of his sword, the amount of armor he wore, she could assume he was a warrior was standing over the one on the ground. She still was not close enough to the group to see of what class the one that seemed to be a very perplexing spot. She eyes darted around trying to piece the scene together, perhaps it was a lover spat gone wrong? Or the one on the ground was the reason the city was in such an uproar. Her hands instinctively fell to her hips as she made sure she stood with more grace than usual. The priestess oozed with the grace and dignity expected of a Sin’dorei, the young huntress felt the need to improve her own so it wouldn’t affect their race badly. She already stood there with two metal bands around her wrist, a small piece of leather under that to stop the metal from rubbing. Each ring held a link, they looked as if there should be more connected.

The Forsaken spoke of healing, and her demeanor fluttered, all she had on her was a hand full of linen. She had no need to learn to it in her earlier days, Orion always took the brunt of the action and a she was taught a simple trick to mend them. Regaining herself she looks around to see if any of the orc guards have found their way to them yet.

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The Undercity had always been known to be somewhat labyrinthine, for even before the fall of Lordaeron it contained all sorts of secreted scattered nooks and crannies where one could hide. Being that of a strange combination of crypts, dungeons, sewers and housing for the poorest of the people—it made a perfect place for those who were not the most… authentic people within the nation, in life or death, to conduct business or spy on those doing so. It would so seem that today would be no exception, for above the ensemble in some secreted place could a gravel tune of a lullaby to be heard hummed and ring within the young Abner’s ears where it was sure to be recognized.

It may have been a concussion from how hard he hit his head upon the ground, it may have been the adrenaline that ran through him from his ‘near death experience’, or it could quite possibly be something entirely different—but if he were to look next to him, even with his peripherals, it would seem almost as if the shadows danced to the tune that echoed through the halls, faintly passing the chaos still ensuing below them. As the conversation continued, he may even swear they were taking upon a familiar figure. The posture, the robes… but it said nothing, looking impassively in front of them at the Warlord—until the lich begged for medical aid. Hush, child, The familiar accent echoed inside his head following along with the melody. Was it… urging him not to blow his cover? The shadow’s visage, invisible to all but the man’s head it so haunted moved its hand to touch his wound. The darkness will rise from the deep. His broken ribs realigning with what seemed to be by themselves.

All across the Quarter, where there were still Forsaken and Kor’kron both still trying to figure out what exactly had happened, the tune bounded from wall to wall as it seemed to gently rise in volume. Though, it still seemed quite the feat to figure out where the strange lullaby of the abrasive voice—one that was impossible to tell whether masculine or feminine-- was of origination, it was apparent that it was indeed getting closer.

Guileless son, The spectral hand that touched Ranavos moved from the wound to gently rest upon his shoulder, I'll shape your belief. The words stripped some of the grave reality away from Ranavos for no more than an instant as he had the opportunity to see the world through a time-lost lens. Though never a place of joy, it was indeed an improvement where though potentially sickly, water had once more replaced slime within the canals, the motifs of death muted as many faded back into the stone, and the Dead that walked once more became those of the living—including the proud Sir Keraph Xalascent. But as the visage’s hood moved to look over his son, revealing the dagger-toothed maw forced into a constant grin, the world rushed back to the nightmarish reality it was. …And you won’t understand the cause of your grief, the voice continued as it’s shadowy moved in a stroking motion within the Abner’s hair, but you’ll always follow the voices beneath. As Keraph dismissed him, the invisible figure would help him up, Loyalty loyalty loyalty loyalty, it whispered to him as the maw came close to his ear, Loyalty loyalty loyalty only to me. Its eyes were still upon Keraph as it whispered the words into Ranavos’s ear as the figure started to fade, the last remnants that of a petting motion within his hair as the wretched humming continued into the song for all to hear above them, a hunched figure stood within the shadows across the way from them in its horrid and course melody:

Hush, child

The darkness will rise from the deep

And carry you down into sleep

Child, the darkness will rise from the deep

And carry you down into sleep

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Ranavos couldn't believe what he had just saw and heard, he just couldn't.... Perhaps it was from the blood loss, yes, that would explain it, but it would not explain how his pain subsided and healed just from ‘His’ touch. That all to familiar song echoed though his head, taking him back to his last encounter with Venedict, though the memory was horrible it confirmed to him that it was the same song...

...He dismissed the memory and simply stared at his Father with awe struck eyes as he helped him up. He he worded out the word ‘Father’, but no sound came from his throat. Perhaps, Venedict didn't abandoned him at all, perhaps he was just waiting for the perfect time to aid his son. Like a deity, if he granted to many miracles, people would grow dependent on him, if he didn't intervene at all, people would lose faith. A realization happened. Venedict was watching over Ranavos this entire time, waiting for the most of severe problems to lend his son his aid. The young Abner watched his father fade, but this time, he was not afraid for him leaving, he knew that he was not being abandoned and savored the feelings of his fathers last actions.

To the others looking at him, Ranavos would just be looking off into the distance, as if in a trance which he quickly snapped out of.

Now standing, the lich let the warrior Forsaken take his leave and made note to visit him in Infections Quarters after he had shaken off the guards. His attention now focused on the two Blood elfs before him. The lord straightened his posture, paying no mind to his bloodstained shirt. “I... Must be going, I have much to attend to. If there is anything you wish to ask of me, do so now.”

The eerie singing continued, forcing his eyes to seek out its origin. A hunched figure caught his eyes... And the sound of the guards approaching caught his ears. He quickly returned his gaze to the newcomer elf and with a stern voice he uttered. “Speak quickly.”

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Bella was not sure if the now apparent Lich was speaking to her or the Priestess. She bit down on her lip on her lip slightly before answering him. “I was merely tracking down the owner of a little machine that was found in Silvermoon. She quickly ran her eyes over the Lich, noticing the runes on his face; they were similar to the ones on the spider like thing. Or they were at least close enough to cause the Huntress to want to investigate this person more. “While I may not be as good at healing as the Priestess,” her hand motioned to Svet before continuing. “ Allow me to assist you in some way Sir…” She paused, hoping for his name. There were initials carved into the machine and she wanted to see if they were the same.

In the distance there was a bark and howl from Bella’s companion, even though he was not by her side, he was still doing his master a service me alerting her of the incoming Kor’kron. “If we stay here any longer all three of us will be found and questioned about the lovely pool of blood on the floor. I suggest we move quickly.” Her voice was quiet as she looked from the Lich to the Priestess. She would leave first.. but that would entitled Bella knowing how to get down from the upper ring; preferably in a way that didn’t involve jumping into slime, or repelling down another plague infested banner.

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Ranavos watched the elf as she approached him, hiding back the urge to snarl at her for getting to close. "I am loyal to nothing but the Horde..." He paused, thinking of a way to broaden his lie while still giving the elf a stern look. Venedict might be pleased to see his son act more like him, what more could a son want than to make his father proud? "...The Late Horde. You and I both know that this Warchief is nothing but a thorn in our side. Killing one of his lackeys means one less mindless execution for 'treason' by their power corrupted minds."

The footsteps sounded like they were getting closer. His heart started to race again. Taking a few steps back, he pointed to the bloodstained cobblestone floor and spoke in an demanding voice. "Stay here and tell them that the culprit has been captured by Forsaken guards and will be prepped physically and mentally for reanimation to serve the Horde."

With that, the lich turned on his heels and sprinted off.

That figure humming the musical tone, it was as if it called to him. Ranavos sprinted towards it, hopefully it was real and hopefully it would know where Infections main hall. was located.

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Nika flattened herself against the wall as the shadowy apparition appeared and sang the haunted tune. Her eyes focused on the image, and she tried hard to make out more details about them... but it was not possible, without getting closer. And she wasn't about to move, and risk notice by anyone- especially Keraph.

Her gaze followed him as he departed, and she was tempted to follow. Finding out exactly where Infection kept their guild hall was very appealing. But.. she found herself reluctant to leave Ranavos behind, when he could potentially be in danger. That in itself seemed odd to her.. but regardless, she remained tucked away in the shadows, listening tensely as he tried to talk his way out of the situation with Svetlaena, and the other elf she did not recognize.

When Ranavos turned and headed for the figure, she carefully followed.. just keeping close enough to not lose sight of him. Though she cast a concerned look towards Svetlaena. Now that the woman was challenging Ran's right to be there, Nika worried that she would in fact summon the guards, or attempt to apprehend him herself.

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A frown and furrowed brow creased Bella’s face, it was unclear which elf the Lich was speaking to when he suggested rather forcibly for someone to stay behind and explain to the orc’s the reason for a blond stain, but no body. Both females had a reason for not wanting to be here when the guards showed up. Good reasons since both their lives had once been on the line or are currently hanging by a thread. Also the Lich had not given a name in response to Bella’s probing, perhaps staying behind and covering up would allow Bella to gain some level of trust with the unknown man. With a nod and a pleasant smile Bella bowed her head “Will do.” While turning toward the blood stain she made sure to make eye contact with Svet, something about this one seemed off. Her hopes were that female intuition would work in her favor for once and Svet would be able to pick up on her concerns.

Making her way over to the other side of the blood pool, to where the foot step seemed to be coming from, Bella placed a hand on Svet’s shoulder, to an outsider perhaps it looked like a friendly gesture, even more so when added with an “I’ll take care of this.” The huntress risked over stepping her boundaries with the Priestess because now she had her scent. Orion would be able to track the two of them once coupled with some of the blood she intended on taking once they were out of eye shot. “Best make tracks; they will be here within the minute.” Bella quickly took out some linen, tossing it to the side casually.

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As Faelenor walked home he could still hear the clashing of blades and crashing of magic as he passed through the quiet city of Silvermoon. His meeting with the Lord of The Order of Eversong had ended and he was ordered to go home after having spent a week and a half on the Isle of Thunder. Images of the war flashed before him as he wandered through the magically lit woods.

As he reached his doorstep he sighed. He was unsure of how his family would welcome him back after being gone for such a time without having written or made any contact. He stepped through the doorway and called out to his wife. "Amalyn...I've come home..." His voice carried through the seemingly empty house as he made his way further in. The silence did not worry him however as he found her bag laying on the table in the library. Before he could call out again Amalyn entered the library with Saturna in her arms. "Welcome home, love." Her voice was soothing to his war haunted ears. She made her way to him showing no signs of anger. "Saturna's feeding, " She remarked. "Once she is done I will put her to sleep and start a pot of tea. We can talk more then." He nodded at her before placing a soft kiss on her lips and a gentle kiss on his daughter's forehead. He smiled and spoke softly. "I will go clean up, then we can have our tea."

Steam emerged from the hot water as Amalyn poured the water gently into the cups. Faelenor sat and watched as the sounds war faded from his mind and the quiet nature of his home became a norm again. "I was not expecting you to be back so early. It's a lovely surprise and I am glad you are back again...but for how long?" Faelenor picked up his cup and took a sip before responding. "I will not lie to you Amalyn. It is work that has me back in the city. Though it did not seem urgent at the time...and Visca believes this matter to be of little importance, I could not overlook it...and...I wanted to see you two again. How I've missed you."

She looks down for a moment before looking back up at him with a sad smile. She spoke softly, "I...understand..." She picks up her cup and takes a sip before placing it back down. "What is this something that could not be overlooked?" He frowned as she smiled sadly at him. “There has been explosions in the city, no one was harmed...and it is speculated that the culprit behind all of the explosions will strike again.” She nods. “I figured that would bring you back...I would have been surprised if you had not.” Faelenor smiles as at her understanding. “I am to meet with Visca in the morning...I don’t know how long I will be gone but I promise to return once our meeting is over.”

She looked at him with a slight brightness in her eyes. “Let us head to bed then...surely a soft bed is better than whatever floor or tent you have been sleeping in.” She laughed lightly as she took his cup and set it aside. She tugged at his hand and pulled him from his chair. “And maybe...I can convince you to stay a little longer...”

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Faelenor saluted the paladin before speaking. “General Rayfeather reporting....” He broke the formality to smile at Visca. “I don’t know if I can be this formal so often...” The paladin returned the smile before speaking.

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At the doorstep of Visca Manor, that of which was the base of operations and barracks of many within the jingoistic Order of Eversong, a servant awaited General Faelenor Rayfeather in the morning. The man was well dressed and well mannered as he gave a small bow and a wordless smile before ushering him inside. “The Lord-General is within his Office, Sir. He requested that you be brought to him upon your arrival.” Around them, as always, were Arcane Golems that guarded the premises even—or perhaps especially—within the Foyer. What would be different, however, was the amount of workers that were taking measurements of the room including the statue of Gladius Visca, the Lord’s deceased father in his classic Troll War armor and twin great swords. The Butler moved in close to Faelenor for a moment murmuring, “And I do apologize for the mess and company, it seems Lord Visca intends to turn his home into a Battlement now.” His frown was most apparent. For it was no secret that the Lord-General, as he had been named in such times of hardship what with the war, was well prone to paranoia. Few, as word would have it, had even seen him without his armor on at any given time since the Fall of Quel’thalas.

Despite the day lit hour, the office of the Lord-General was dark. Where there was to be lighting from the Arcane energies that empowered the entire Manor, there was null but the slight illuminations of the rectangular piece of glass within his hands and the fel-green glow enhanced via the glasses he wore. With curtains closed and doors locked, he was able to work in private. His eyes scanned encrypted documents upon the pane of glass under his goggles with a scowl upon his face. Certain projects were not continuing as planned. Resistance was too high still, and this potential edge was finding itself to becoming more of a liability. He sighed, his gauntleted hand’s cold metal chilling his face as he was left to his thoughts… that was until he heard the knock at his door. One hand moved towards the blade resting next to him, the other moving to slam the glass upon the floor—one of his favorite advantages of this ‘Glass Scroll’ that the Arcane Engineering team had created, it could quickly be disposed of, shattering and severing the remote viewing of classified documents. “Who goes there? Identify yourself.” His voice sharp and stern.

“It is just myself, Lamildor Sunsong, Milord. I’m presenting General Rayfeather, just as you asked.”

After identification, the Lord-General unfurled the curtains and locked away the Glass Scroll once he removed his Emblem of the Order from it. His footsteps could be heard before he unlocked the door and smiled as he saw his brother-in-law give a formal salute. His hands removed the goggles from his face before he replied with a similar gesture. “Ah, Fealenor, come on in.” He nodded at Lamildor before moving to close the door.

If Faelenor paid any mind to the butler he would be able to read the words, ‘Good Luck’ on the man’s lips before he bowed and returned to his duties of overseeing the measurements taken within the Foyer and, one could assume, the rest of the house afterwards.

“Yes, I am familiar with the strain of formality.” The man sighed as he placed his blade in the harness upon his back. “You do get used to it after a point, remembering how to address Magister so-and-so or Lady such-and-such in hopes of garnering support for your projects to ensure the survival and prosperity of our people. The Seer wondered why I was so eager to return to the field, where I belong.” His smirk back upon his face as he grabbed his helm from the table, his hands reinserting the goggles into the eye sockets. “My forced-retirement was like a gnawing, never ending headache. One problem or another, I must say—I began to wonder what happened as my Order vanished one by one.” As the view ports clicked into place he sighed, “You do need to tell me one day as to where you ran off to. I am sure you have some interesting tales as to what happened while you were finding yourself, away from any of my eyes at that.” A shake of the head came, “But, I suppose, now is the time to focus. To guard barracks of Silvermoon, then.”

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