Post by Emizael on Sept 29, 2006 14:28:51 GMT -5
(( okay, I wanted to tell this story for a bit, but, it seems like more and more, the words just don't want to sit right. I know how it should present, but...argh. Anyways, before it drives me nuts, Baaju has something to say...and on that note, I am posting this entirely from her point-of-view, but I guess more third person, really, and...well...bah. Better to just get to it. ))
All magic really is, is change.
The echoes of those words, spiralled madly through the young mages' head at the most inapropriate times. Take now, for instance. The chaos of the battle, things gone horribly wrong for the band of heroes so desperately sure that they would defeat Headmaster Gandling. The paladin Vrore had convinced the small group that the combined power they held, and thier virtues of Light and Arcane would make all the difference in cleansing the famed once-school of the darkness and horror that now stalked the shadowed halls.
Derro, the Kaldorei hunter, with his proud frostsaber Mithra...Connie, the warrior that should have been a priest, what with her love for the church, and her faithful piety... Zell, a fun loving dwarf rogue if ever there was one...and Baaju, Aprentice Arcanist, and conjurer of foodstuffs. They had all met one sunny afternoon, in the park of Stormwind. There had been a gathering of adventurers, quite the number of them really, all come together in one of the greatest cities of human reckoning, to share tales, trade arms and equipment, and most of all...to dazzle the locals with thier bizzare and exotic trophies.
In the gathering press of man and elf, dwarf and gnome, a voice rang out calm and clear over the throngs, a voice that could at turns either inspire the heart, or freeze the blood. Vrore stood against a background of stone and brick and earth, and called out to the crowds...
" Harken! Heed! The spirits of Caer Darrow cry out to you!"
Baaju thought those words directed soley to her, which was sort of ridiculous now that she thought back on them. Really, she had never even heard of Caer Darrow, let alone knew anyone there, so, how could spirits cry out to her? But, turn she did, and moved away from the queue of adventureres clamoring for access to some place called " Uuberrs" or..." Lowberss" depending on who one was talking to, and walked to where the gray haired man had climbed atop a box and had started to tell his particular story.
As the young mage approached, she studied the grey-haired man. Brawny and tall, he easily was visible even from a distance. He was wearing fine clothes, seemingly tailored to fit perfectly to his frame, accentuating his muscular arms, and the proportions were..not unpleasing to the eye. It was his energy, though, that pulled her closer, not just the way he spoke, but...the way he seemed to believe...and to invoke that belief in others.
" My name is Vrore. I am a servant of the Light, may the Fates bless me to continue; and I come to you now, to gather what forces I may, and strike at a darkness that has for far too long plauged the lands once ours!" Many groans rose up from the crowd, mostly from those who were used to the fanatic words of Battle-Priests or the convictions spouted by Paladins and Cavaliers, but...Baaju couldn't resist. The sheer...desperation that seemed barely underlying the mans' words..
" I speak of the Scholomance! A place once devoted to the study of the Arcane, and now, a fell place of Necromancy and Death, where the wails of the damned breach the walls nightly! The souls there cannot rest! The Scouge-spawn walk freely, Light blast them! This cannot be allowed!"
Many of the others drifted off, sure in thier hearts that this human was unhinged, or at the very least, damaged in some very unflattering way, and many mumbled so on thier way past. Soon, there were few left, and of them...
The paladin continued his words, no less inspired by those that had walked away. In fact, he continued his frenzied story for those that had remained...
He spoke of lost lore, Arts, and how the good works were used for evil, or ensconced deep in what had become now a tomb for the Scourge to practise thier foul ways. He spoke of how the Spirits of Caer Darrow called to him, how they begged for the mercy of release...
And on that sunny summer afternoon, wherein all the glory of the Light seemed true and possible, a bargain was struck. These five had many reasons to band together, but each had thier own personal reasons, as well. Vrore, for example, felt a holy call to duty, to action, because he sensed the wrongness of the place, and his sacred call was Retribution. His fervor and desire to serve the light was only amplified by the fact that the Scourge held Caer Darrow, and he could not allow a bastion of utter Evil, as he called it, to flourish so close to settled lands.
Connie came along, partly because this was a good work, and a grand deed to be accomplished, and partly because the church needed soldiers and acts of faith just like this. To take on the Scourge, to batter them and force them from the world...well, this was the stuff of legends for her! She shook her long braid, marched right up to Vrore, and offered her services immediately!
Zell, well, who knows what really motivates a rogue? Thrills, chills, excitement, treasure? Those were his mantras on the long trek to the Western Plaugelands.
And as for Derro, poor, sweet Derro...the elf seemed more at ease with flowers and bees and birds and trees then skulking about in forsaken dungeons, but he brought a sense of peace, and completion with him, that just felt ..right..to Baaju.
Thinking back now...as her mind oftened wandered during battle, much to the chagrin of her comrades, thinking back now, if she had known how Derro would have ended up...she would have never agreed to such a folly as this.
The band had set out from Stormwind each armed and girded for battle. Connie and Vrore wore heavy plate armor, and seemed matched quite well together. They both bore heavy shields, with the heraldic device of some ancient dragon, and both bore heavy maces fairly sparkling with power at thier sides. Zell was dressed in fancy black leathers, seemingly made of shadows, and Derro bounced along easily in his mix of leathers and mail, a kaliedoscope of riotous colour with his bow..his strange bow, looking very much like a snake. Baaju herself was clad in her very best garments, heavily enchanted and enhanced robes that she had made herself out of Dreamweave and Mageweave, with her hat tucked low on her head.
They trecked far and wide, from Stormwind, then to Ironforge, across the fields and the Wetlands, over the cold mountains of Alterac, and, many weeks later, after much adventure, they came at last to Chillwind Camp, a bastion of hope in a tortured land. In the time spent abroad, the group had become fast friends, and each became an integral part of each other's lives. They had travelled harsh terrain, and at long last, they stood upon the shores of a forgotten lake, and gazed full upon the remains of a once proud city, Caer Darrow.
They stopped for a time, in Chillwind, gathering supplies, repairing thier equipments, scouting the terrain, and preparing for the assault upon the ruined city. There, under the shelter of tree and mountain, as the companions rested, and readied, did Baaju and Derro become closer still, more then simply friends. She began to feel that this chance meeting and this whole adventure had been planned by the Fates just for her to meet Derro. His eyes, the touch of his hand, the feel of his hair, they awakened in her a sense of longing, a simple need that she had never experienced before.
On the last night, before the assault, Derro and Baaju lay together under the stars on the roof of Uther's Tomb. Nestling her head in the crook of his arm, she asked Derro what he would do when all this was done, and the Shadows were gone from Scholomance.
He smiled, moved around to kiss her softly, and murmured...
" Whatever I might do, wherever I might go who can say? It is enough that we are here now, together."
Outwardly, she smiled, but inwardly, she cringed. All too typical for a man, she mused; but, all people have needs, and there, they sated those needs in each other's arms.
The next day, Vrore took up the lead again, marching them across the broken cobblestones and tainted plants , and into the city itself. It seemed, almost immediately, they were set upon by agents of evil...
In places, the bones of the dead crawled from the ground, and shrieking haunts flung themselves wrecklessly at the small band. Time and again, the martial skill and sheer power of those like Vrore and Connie hurled the creatures back, shattering bone, and scattering essences...
They assaulted the Scholomance like an army possessed. They fought from doorway to doorway, hall to hall, and it surely seemed to Baaju that they would win the day. Long hours passed as they pressed into each new room, with the songs of victory and light on thier lips as they harrowed the undead, and cleansed each chamber. Great and mighty were thier foes, Scourge and tainted mortal alike, and ...finally...finally...
In the fell chamber of Alexi Barov, as his heavy sword skewered through Connie's heavy plate armor and dashed her life to the floor, did Baaju first learn fear. Zell screamed inarticulate rage at the Undead, and leapt upon Barov's back, the rogue's wicked knives tearing long rents in the flesh of the beast. At that same moment, the great cat Mithra, bonded companion to Derro tore into the belly of Barov, while keen arrows seemingly sprouted from the chest of the Scourge. Vrore's light suffused the room, and as Barov fell to one knee under the assualt, Vrore stepped in quickly and let his mace fall. Once, twice, a third time the mace cracked into the face of Barov, and still, the Damned would not relent. The sickening permeation of the Scourge's energy was winning against them all. Sorely wounded, and prepared to give all the last bit of thier energy and lives to defeat this creature...the mortals fell back. Baaju fairly spit hissing words of eldritch might...
The bolts of arcane force struck true. Dozens of tiny missles wracked the frame of the Undead Warrior. Taken aback, Barov wheeled towards the frail young woman, and grinned. She saw death and doom in his eyes...
And then, unexpectedly, confusion. Barov's eyes clouded over, and ...he seemed to not be able to control his legs anymore. He fell, face foreward, into the grimy flagstone of his tomb...wrent by holy might, and the terrible force of Derro's bow. Zell reappeared, as if by magic, and quickly sawed off the head of the Scourge, as Vrore threw down a bag of salt, and spoke the Revered Words of Solace, the last rights of the war-priests of Stormwind. The body smoked, and trembled, and Baaju feared that the beast would rise again, as had so many terrors in this place...
And then..it was no more. A slight howling was heard, as whatever animated the dead flesh was sent back to the Nether...
The band did what they could for poor Connie...her soul had departed during the fight, and no pleading with the Light would enable Vrore to restore her. Sighing heavily, he placed his hands on her face, kissed her brow, and closed her staring eyes.
" When we are done here, I promise you a proper burial, my friend." Vrore looked about at the rest of his comrades. " We are sore in body, and in soul..but we live. Shall we let this woman die in vain?" There were no answers given by the others assembled, although, Baaju desperately wanted to give voice to her growing doubts. Just as she began to open her lips to speak, a new dark voice rang through the halls...
" SCHOOL IS IN SESSION!!"
Darkmaster Gandling had finally arrived. Steely determination marked the faces of the men in the room. Vrore sang his battle-hymn softly, and walls of force covered each of the companions, adding invisible armor to thier flesh. Zell merged with shadow, becoming invisible to the naked eye. Derro smiled at Baaju, and laid a consoling hand on her shoulder, even as he whistled for his brave hunting cat. With cries of battle, they charged.
The fight was terrible. Horrible, really. Gandling new every trick in the book, and he used it. His magics were terrible to behold. Baaju learned things in the first few seconds of the fight that it would take most sorcerers decades to concieve of! Gandling brought the full and deadly might of the Scourge against the small band...
And...in the end...when Gandling finally fell...Vrore stood alone over the corpse of the madman. Baaju and Derro watched near helplessly from behind the bars of the cage they had been teleported into. When Vrore struck the final blow...Gandling collapsed, and the fell energy that had imprisoned some of the heroes was released.
Baaju ran across the small courtyard to the crumpled form of Zell. His blades had struck true many times, too many times for Gandling's tastes. A spell twisted from the cruel heart of Gandling had blasted Zell back into the wall nearest Barov's Tomb, and had stripped the flesh from his body. Near all that remained of the proud dwarven rogue was gory bone and ash, and one twisted, chipped dagger, still stuck fast in the grip of the poor dwarf. Zell was dead, and gone. Vrore hadn't fared much better. He leaned heavily upon the stairs, his strength spent and his breathing harsh and laboured.
Baaju went to him slowly, her own wounds slowing her a bit. She knelt down next to the paladin, and pressed a bandage into a scorched mark on his armor. She looked back towards Derro, to ask for help, when...
Derro had picked up the staff of the Darkmaster, and pulled some other shiny trinkets from the corpse. Derro laughed, a horrible dark sound in the sepulcher that this place had become. Derro didn't look like much of a Kaldorei anymore. He laughed such an ugly little laugh..
" What in the Twisting Hells is wrong with you?!" She shouted, mostly just to stop that awful laugh.
Derro looked back, his eyes full of hate, and madness.
" Why, my dear, nothing now. I have retrieved my staff, lost so long ago to this ..." he kicked the corpse of Gandling, and as he did so, he changed, his green hair becoming long and pale, and his dark skin lightening to a ghastly near-human pink.
Derro the Blood Elf stood revealed.
Vrore stood, with some difficulty. He murmered, " what have we done..." under his breath...and reached for the mace he had let tumble from his grasp.
" Oh, don't get up!", Cackled Derro in that same hurtful voice. He spoke..and his words were unbridled hatered given form and flesh and substance, speeding through space to stab into the paladin. Vrore was lifted bodily through the air, only to fall several feet away, unmoving.
" Why?" Was all Baaju said...stunned..reeling..unsure of what was going to happen next.
" Because I don't need you anymore, and I don't want you interfering with my plans!" the elf smirked, and began chanting again.
Brought back full circle, a calm sheen of cold came over the Mage. Derro was powerful indeed, and his mastery of the Art was evident to her, now. He had tricked them from the beginning, hiding his power behind the veneer of a hunter. Now, fully revealed, Derro could be on par with any of the Archmages of Dalaran! Still, she refused to give in to him. Hot fear was replaced with cold, chilly determination. All of her random chaotic thoughts dissappeared, and she became focused wholly on the here and now.
She mused, somewhat dispassionately, that...something had happened to her, changed her inside, even as new spells spiralled and took shape around her. She had learned well from her brief study of Gandling. A shield of impenetrable ice formed about her, even as the bolts of energy from Derro's outstretched hand dashed close. The bolts spanged harmlessly against her protective magic. She grimaced from the effort of casting so much, but found, suddenly, an untapped well...a ...convergence of sorts, deep within her. From some frozen wasteland of untapped power, she began to invoke.
Power swelled within her.
" All magic is...is change. This to that. Hot to cold, water to ice. " Calmly, she called to that power, and let it swell within her. Long lances of frost shot from her fingers, battering the elf with terrific might. Ice seemed to shackle him, impeding his movements and slowing his wild gestures. She stalked closer, emulating the steps Derro had shown her on the long trail here, how to step just so, to stalk prey in the wilderness. Close enough to look into his eyes, she grabbed the Blood Elf's face with one hand.
" Change!" She yelled, and her voice shook the room.
Blood and bone and sinew froze solid. The look of shock and terror in the eyes of the blood elf did little to thaw the cold heart of the Mage.
She turned from the now-statuesqe traitor, and moved to tend to her friends.
It was some work, dragging them all together. She didn't know any spells that would enhance strength, or even spells that could help her lift the dead weight of heavy armored forms. As it was, it took her several hours to drag them all together. Finally though, she had the rogue, the paladin and the warrior all together, laying in gentle repose. Sorrow filled her heart then, and she wept bitter tears over the bodies of her friends.
Stumbling and crying, she tried to recall the Portal spell she had learned, to open the mystic gateway to Stormwind.
Some time later, Baaju spoke the words correctly, and the portal opened over her comrades, whisking them home. She looked back, just before stepping through the gate, as ghouls and skeletons began to fill the chamber anew, the dark energy of the Scourge already refilling the ranks of the damned. As the damned moved closer to the frozen body of Derro...she smiled.
" Change!" she whispered...and undid the magick of the ice- prison binding the Blood elf.
As she stepped through the portal, and found herself in the mage tower of Stormwind, surrounded by her fallen companions and many disturbed and wondering apprentices. Her last thoughts were of Derro's screams.
All magic really is, is change.
The echoes of those words, spiralled madly through the young mages' head at the most inapropriate times. Take now, for instance. The chaos of the battle, things gone horribly wrong for the band of heroes so desperately sure that they would defeat Headmaster Gandling. The paladin Vrore had convinced the small group that the combined power they held, and thier virtues of Light and Arcane would make all the difference in cleansing the famed once-school of the darkness and horror that now stalked the shadowed halls.
Derro, the Kaldorei hunter, with his proud frostsaber Mithra...Connie, the warrior that should have been a priest, what with her love for the church, and her faithful piety... Zell, a fun loving dwarf rogue if ever there was one...and Baaju, Aprentice Arcanist, and conjurer of foodstuffs. They had all met one sunny afternoon, in the park of Stormwind. There had been a gathering of adventurers, quite the number of them really, all come together in one of the greatest cities of human reckoning, to share tales, trade arms and equipment, and most of all...to dazzle the locals with thier bizzare and exotic trophies.
In the gathering press of man and elf, dwarf and gnome, a voice rang out calm and clear over the throngs, a voice that could at turns either inspire the heart, or freeze the blood. Vrore stood against a background of stone and brick and earth, and called out to the crowds...
" Harken! Heed! The spirits of Caer Darrow cry out to you!"
Baaju thought those words directed soley to her, which was sort of ridiculous now that she thought back on them. Really, she had never even heard of Caer Darrow, let alone knew anyone there, so, how could spirits cry out to her? But, turn she did, and moved away from the queue of adventureres clamoring for access to some place called " Uuberrs" or..." Lowberss" depending on who one was talking to, and walked to where the gray haired man had climbed atop a box and had started to tell his particular story.
As the young mage approached, she studied the grey-haired man. Brawny and tall, he easily was visible even from a distance. He was wearing fine clothes, seemingly tailored to fit perfectly to his frame, accentuating his muscular arms, and the proportions were..not unpleasing to the eye. It was his energy, though, that pulled her closer, not just the way he spoke, but...the way he seemed to believe...and to invoke that belief in others.
" My name is Vrore. I am a servant of the Light, may the Fates bless me to continue; and I come to you now, to gather what forces I may, and strike at a darkness that has for far too long plauged the lands once ours!" Many groans rose up from the crowd, mostly from those who were used to the fanatic words of Battle-Priests or the convictions spouted by Paladins and Cavaliers, but...Baaju couldn't resist. The sheer...desperation that seemed barely underlying the mans' words..
" I speak of the Scholomance! A place once devoted to the study of the Arcane, and now, a fell place of Necromancy and Death, where the wails of the damned breach the walls nightly! The souls there cannot rest! The Scouge-spawn walk freely, Light blast them! This cannot be allowed!"
Many of the others drifted off, sure in thier hearts that this human was unhinged, or at the very least, damaged in some very unflattering way, and many mumbled so on thier way past. Soon, there were few left, and of them...
The paladin continued his words, no less inspired by those that had walked away. In fact, he continued his frenzied story for those that had remained...
He spoke of lost lore, Arts, and how the good works were used for evil, or ensconced deep in what had become now a tomb for the Scourge to practise thier foul ways. He spoke of how the Spirits of Caer Darrow called to him, how they begged for the mercy of release...
And on that sunny summer afternoon, wherein all the glory of the Light seemed true and possible, a bargain was struck. These five had many reasons to band together, but each had thier own personal reasons, as well. Vrore, for example, felt a holy call to duty, to action, because he sensed the wrongness of the place, and his sacred call was Retribution. His fervor and desire to serve the light was only amplified by the fact that the Scourge held Caer Darrow, and he could not allow a bastion of utter Evil, as he called it, to flourish so close to settled lands.
Connie came along, partly because this was a good work, and a grand deed to be accomplished, and partly because the church needed soldiers and acts of faith just like this. To take on the Scourge, to batter them and force them from the world...well, this was the stuff of legends for her! She shook her long braid, marched right up to Vrore, and offered her services immediately!
Zell, well, who knows what really motivates a rogue? Thrills, chills, excitement, treasure? Those were his mantras on the long trek to the Western Plaugelands.
And as for Derro, poor, sweet Derro...the elf seemed more at ease with flowers and bees and birds and trees then skulking about in forsaken dungeons, but he brought a sense of peace, and completion with him, that just felt ..right..to Baaju.
Thinking back now...as her mind oftened wandered during battle, much to the chagrin of her comrades, thinking back now, if she had known how Derro would have ended up...she would have never agreed to such a folly as this.
The band had set out from Stormwind each armed and girded for battle. Connie and Vrore wore heavy plate armor, and seemed matched quite well together. They both bore heavy shields, with the heraldic device of some ancient dragon, and both bore heavy maces fairly sparkling with power at thier sides. Zell was dressed in fancy black leathers, seemingly made of shadows, and Derro bounced along easily in his mix of leathers and mail, a kaliedoscope of riotous colour with his bow..his strange bow, looking very much like a snake. Baaju herself was clad in her very best garments, heavily enchanted and enhanced robes that she had made herself out of Dreamweave and Mageweave, with her hat tucked low on her head.
They trecked far and wide, from Stormwind, then to Ironforge, across the fields and the Wetlands, over the cold mountains of Alterac, and, many weeks later, after much adventure, they came at last to Chillwind Camp, a bastion of hope in a tortured land. In the time spent abroad, the group had become fast friends, and each became an integral part of each other's lives. They had travelled harsh terrain, and at long last, they stood upon the shores of a forgotten lake, and gazed full upon the remains of a once proud city, Caer Darrow.
They stopped for a time, in Chillwind, gathering supplies, repairing thier equipments, scouting the terrain, and preparing for the assault upon the ruined city. There, under the shelter of tree and mountain, as the companions rested, and readied, did Baaju and Derro become closer still, more then simply friends. She began to feel that this chance meeting and this whole adventure had been planned by the Fates just for her to meet Derro. His eyes, the touch of his hand, the feel of his hair, they awakened in her a sense of longing, a simple need that she had never experienced before.
On the last night, before the assault, Derro and Baaju lay together under the stars on the roof of Uther's Tomb. Nestling her head in the crook of his arm, she asked Derro what he would do when all this was done, and the Shadows were gone from Scholomance.
He smiled, moved around to kiss her softly, and murmured...
" Whatever I might do, wherever I might go who can say? It is enough that we are here now, together."
Outwardly, she smiled, but inwardly, she cringed. All too typical for a man, she mused; but, all people have needs, and there, they sated those needs in each other's arms.
The next day, Vrore took up the lead again, marching them across the broken cobblestones and tainted plants , and into the city itself. It seemed, almost immediately, they were set upon by agents of evil...
In places, the bones of the dead crawled from the ground, and shrieking haunts flung themselves wrecklessly at the small band. Time and again, the martial skill and sheer power of those like Vrore and Connie hurled the creatures back, shattering bone, and scattering essences...
They assaulted the Scholomance like an army possessed. They fought from doorway to doorway, hall to hall, and it surely seemed to Baaju that they would win the day. Long hours passed as they pressed into each new room, with the songs of victory and light on thier lips as they harrowed the undead, and cleansed each chamber. Great and mighty were thier foes, Scourge and tainted mortal alike, and ...finally...finally...
In the fell chamber of Alexi Barov, as his heavy sword skewered through Connie's heavy plate armor and dashed her life to the floor, did Baaju first learn fear. Zell screamed inarticulate rage at the Undead, and leapt upon Barov's back, the rogue's wicked knives tearing long rents in the flesh of the beast. At that same moment, the great cat Mithra, bonded companion to Derro tore into the belly of Barov, while keen arrows seemingly sprouted from the chest of the Scourge. Vrore's light suffused the room, and as Barov fell to one knee under the assualt, Vrore stepped in quickly and let his mace fall. Once, twice, a third time the mace cracked into the face of Barov, and still, the Damned would not relent. The sickening permeation of the Scourge's energy was winning against them all. Sorely wounded, and prepared to give all the last bit of thier energy and lives to defeat this creature...the mortals fell back. Baaju fairly spit hissing words of eldritch might...
The bolts of arcane force struck true. Dozens of tiny missles wracked the frame of the Undead Warrior. Taken aback, Barov wheeled towards the frail young woman, and grinned. She saw death and doom in his eyes...
And then, unexpectedly, confusion. Barov's eyes clouded over, and ...he seemed to not be able to control his legs anymore. He fell, face foreward, into the grimy flagstone of his tomb...wrent by holy might, and the terrible force of Derro's bow. Zell reappeared, as if by magic, and quickly sawed off the head of the Scourge, as Vrore threw down a bag of salt, and spoke the Revered Words of Solace, the last rights of the war-priests of Stormwind. The body smoked, and trembled, and Baaju feared that the beast would rise again, as had so many terrors in this place...
And then..it was no more. A slight howling was heard, as whatever animated the dead flesh was sent back to the Nether...
The band did what they could for poor Connie...her soul had departed during the fight, and no pleading with the Light would enable Vrore to restore her. Sighing heavily, he placed his hands on her face, kissed her brow, and closed her staring eyes.
" When we are done here, I promise you a proper burial, my friend." Vrore looked about at the rest of his comrades. " We are sore in body, and in soul..but we live. Shall we let this woman die in vain?" There were no answers given by the others assembled, although, Baaju desperately wanted to give voice to her growing doubts. Just as she began to open her lips to speak, a new dark voice rang through the halls...
" SCHOOL IS IN SESSION!!"
Darkmaster Gandling had finally arrived. Steely determination marked the faces of the men in the room. Vrore sang his battle-hymn softly, and walls of force covered each of the companions, adding invisible armor to thier flesh. Zell merged with shadow, becoming invisible to the naked eye. Derro smiled at Baaju, and laid a consoling hand on her shoulder, even as he whistled for his brave hunting cat. With cries of battle, they charged.
The fight was terrible. Horrible, really. Gandling new every trick in the book, and he used it. His magics were terrible to behold. Baaju learned things in the first few seconds of the fight that it would take most sorcerers decades to concieve of! Gandling brought the full and deadly might of the Scourge against the small band...
And...in the end...when Gandling finally fell...Vrore stood alone over the corpse of the madman. Baaju and Derro watched near helplessly from behind the bars of the cage they had been teleported into. When Vrore struck the final blow...Gandling collapsed, and the fell energy that had imprisoned some of the heroes was released.
Baaju ran across the small courtyard to the crumpled form of Zell. His blades had struck true many times, too many times for Gandling's tastes. A spell twisted from the cruel heart of Gandling had blasted Zell back into the wall nearest Barov's Tomb, and had stripped the flesh from his body. Near all that remained of the proud dwarven rogue was gory bone and ash, and one twisted, chipped dagger, still stuck fast in the grip of the poor dwarf. Zell was dead, and gone. Vrore hadn't fared much better. He leaned heavily upon the stairs, his strength spent and his breathing harsh and laboured.
Baaju went to him slowly, her own wounds slowing her a bit. She knelt down next to the paladin, and pressed a bandage into a scorched mark on his armor. She looked back towards Derro, to ask for help, when...
Derro had picked up the staff of the Darkmaster, and pulled some other shiny trinkets from the corpse. Derro laughed, a horrible dark sound in the sepulcher that this place had become. Derro didn't look like much of a Kaldorei anymore. He laughed such an ugly little laugh..
" What in the Twisting Hells is wrong with you?!" She shouted, mostly just to stop that awful laugh.
Derro looked back, his eyes full of hate, and madness.
" Why, my dear, nothing now. I have retrieved my staff, lost so long ago to this ..." he kicked the corpse of Gandling, and as he did so, he changed, his green hair becoming long and pale, and his dark skin lightening to a ghastly near-human pink.
Derro the Blood Elf stood revealed.
Vrore stood, with some difficulty. He murmered, " what have we done..." under his breath...and reached for the mace he had let tumble from his grasp.
" Oh, don't get up!", Cackled Derro in that same hurtful voice. He spoke..and his words were unbridled hatered given form and flesh and substance, speeding through space to stab into the paladin. Vrore was lifted bodily through the air, only to fall several feet away, unmoving.
" Why?" Was all Baaju said...stunned..reeling..unsure of what was going to happen next.
" Because I don't need you anymore, and I don't want you interfering with my plans!" the elf smirked, and began chanting again.
Brought back full circle, a calm sheen of cold came over the Mage. Derro was powerful indeed, and his mastery of the Art was evident to her, now. He had tricked them from the beginning, hiding his power behind the veneer of a hunter. Now, fully revealed, Derro could be on par with any of the Archmages of Dalaran! Still, she refused to give in to him. Hot fear was replaced with cold, chilly determination. All of her random chaotic thoughts dissappeared, and she became focused wholly on the here and now.
She mused, somewhat dispassionately, that...something had happened to her, changed her inside, even as new spells spiralled and took shape around her. She had learned well from her brief study of Gandling. A shield of impenetrable ice formed about her, even as the bolts of energy from Derro's outstretched hand dashed close. The bolts spanged harmlessly against her protective magic. She grimaced from the effort of casting so much, but found, suddenly, an untapped well...a ...convergence of sorts, deep within her. From some frozen wasteland of untapped power, she began to invoke.
Power swelled within her.
" All magic is...is change. This to that. Hot to cold, water to ice. " Calmly, she called to that power, and let it swell within her. Long lances of frost shot from her fingers, battering the elf with terrific might. Ice seemed to shackle him, impeding his movements and slowing his wild gestures. She stalked closer, emulating the steps Derro had shown her on the long trail here, how to step just so, to stalk prey in the wilderness. Close enough to look into his eyes, she grabbed the Blood Elf's face with one hand.
" Change!" She yelled, and her voice shook the room.
Blood and bone and sinew froze solid. The look of shock and terror in the eyes of the blood elf did little to thaw the cold heart of the Mage.
She turned from the now-statuesqe traitor, and moved to tend to her friends.
It was some work, dragging them all together. She didn't know any spells that would enhance strength, or even spells that could help her lift the dead weight of heavy armored forms. As it was, it took her several hours to drag them all together. Finally though, she had the rogue, the paladin and the warrior all together, laying in gentle repose. Sorrow filled her heart then, and she wept bitter tears over the bodies of her friends.
Stumbling and crying, she tried to recall the Portal spell she had learned, to open the mystic gateway to Stormwind.
Some time later, Baaju spoke the words correctly, and the portal opened over her comrades, whisking them home. She looked back, just before stepping through the gate, as ghouls and skeletons began to fill the chamber anew, the dark energy of the Scourge already refilling the ranks of the damned. As the damned moved closer to the frozen body of Derro...she smiled.
" Change!" she whispered...and undid the magick of the ice- prison binding the Blood elf.
As she stepped through the portal, and found herself in the mage tower of Stormwind, surrounded by her fallen companions and many disturbed and wondering apprentices. Her last thoughts were of Derro's screams.