Grim Views

Demonbane

Ceryna - December 9, 2005

The Scourge staggered and limped around the abandoned farmstead,
occasionally savaging a rat that grew too bold. Around them, the
Plaguelands festered and bubbled, like a cauldron of putrescence,
simply simmering patiently until it could boil over and consume
Azeroth.

In fact, the black, iron cauldron in the center of the field
served as fine microcosm for the Plaguelands as a whole, jumping
and kicking, belching forth voluminous clouds of putrid gray
smoke that corroded and rotted anything they touched. Four
massive chains held the cauldron bolted to the ground, and the
Scourge guarded it vigilantly.

However, their vigilance was focused on the field, not the
farmhouse, and so they missed the small, hovering, green eye that
skimmed the ground nearby. It peered within the splits of the
shack's wooden walls, noting the lone ghoul within and the large
hole in the back wall, far away from the sight of the Scourge.
Then, it vanished.

As she let the Eye of Kilrogg disappear, Ceryna, safely behind
one of the festering trees a hundred feet away, returned to her
own senses. He was here, or had been recently. She looked down at
the felstalker by her side, felt its everpresent malice and
shivered. It was not proud of its feat, tracking her quarry all
this distance. Demons did not know pride, as such. All they knew
was hate and fear.

Haagrym, the hound, had trailed her prey to this farmstead, less
than a day's ride from Lordaeron, or the ruins thereof. To think,
all this time, she had been so near. This could have ended weeks
ago.

And yet, weeks ago, she would not have been prepared. She lacked
the skills, the patience, the raw magical power to survive these
lands. Weeks ago, she would have been torn apart by the Scourge.
No, the time had been put to good use. Now, she was ready.

With but a look, she impressed upon Haagrym the need for secrecy.
The pair began to creep toward the farmhouse. Haagrym led the
way, silent as a cat and surefooted, while Ceryna followed,
fumbling through the darkness. If her heart still beat, she was
sure it would be in her throat. In the darkness of night, the
farmhouse suddenly loomed from the shadows in front of them.

It was simple work to pry a few rotting boards loose, enlarging
the rotten hole enough for the pair to enter. The only sound from
the ghoul on the ground floor was a startled gurgle and the
thumping of its head rolling across the floor.

Ceryna wiped the ichor from her scythe and peered at the ghoul.
Not him. She looked warily at the stairs, sighed, and began
creeping upward. She winced as she stepped on a creaky stair, and
paused, but no alert came. She continued.

On the second floor, corpses were strewn about the main, large
room, impaled on boards jutting from the walls, hung from rusty
chains dangling from rafters. Tiny streams of silver moonlight
filtered through the cracks and splits in a window too otherwise
caked in grime and gore to allow light. One victim, his arms
twisted around behind him to clutch futilely at the iron hook in
his spine, was frozen in a scream of terror and anguish, forever
silenced by the rusty hacksaw buried halfway into his neck.

The door to the one remaining room stood halfway open, and
muffled whimpers and shrieks escaped from within. A trickle of
blood ran from the door, and shadows lit by a weakly flickering
candle thrashed and rolled in the night.

Ceryna pushed open the door and gasped involuntarily. It was a
bedroom, or it had been. Two beds lay within, matted and soaked
with blood and sweat and ichor, white sheets turned brown with
age and rot. On each bed a woman lay, thrashing and writhing,
chained spread-eagle to the bedposts. One was human, the other a
troll, and both were hugely pregnant, stomachs grossly distended.
Ceryna could see something moving in the human's stomach, like
the print of a hand pushing against her flesh from the inside.
The walls were coated in a thick, semi-solid, gray mucous that
seemed to pulse with a life of its own. For the first time,
Ceryna was glad death had robbed her of her sense of smell.

"Do you like my vision?"

Ceryna turned slowly, scythe raised defensively, and Haagrym
snarled at the stealthy newcomer. He looked like neither a ghoul
nor a skeleton, but like a particularly decayed Forsaken. The
right half of his face was completely gone, leaving a scarred,
pitted skull grimacing hideously. His tongue, forked, dangled
from the side of his head, through the gap in torn, rotten flesh
and broken, jagged teeth. His eyes burned with a red fire, and he
was clad in pale, patchwork leather. It took Ceryna a moment to
realize the true, repulsive nature of his grotesque harlequin's
melange.

"Jacob?"

It stopped, its head tilting a bit. "Allison?"

Ceryna tightened her grip on her scythe. "Allison is dead. So are
you."

"Yet, here we are... I knew. Somehow, I knew you would come. That
is why I never hunted you down. I knew you would come to me." The
monster slowly drew a pair of wickedly serrated knives, gobbets
of flesh still dangling from some of the more gruesome hooks.

"What the hell is this place?"

"Ah... this is my creche. Those are my children, Allison. The
children you never could bear."

Jacob slowly circled, and she moved to avoid him, putting her
back to the stairs. Haagrym was taunt as a drawn bow, just
waiting for her command to attack.

"When I rose again, I knew you would come... but I did not know
when. I needed someone to fill the nights. I needed someone to
make my dreams come true... and such dreams!"

"Nightmares."

"To some. I am breeding a new form of life, Allison... neither
Scourge nor Forsaken, but something other. Something older, more
primal. I have spoken to Him, and He has shown me the way."

"Him?"

"You know Him... he told me you would come."

Ceryna felt chilled, and shook her head. "He's not here now,
Jacob, and we have unfinished business. You've been unfaithful."

"Ah, yes... our vows."

"'Til death do us part."

They leapt at each other.

It was twenty minutes later when Ceryna woke with a start, sticky
ichor still dripping in fat globs from her pallid cheeks. She
ached. Looking down, she could see massive wounds rent open in
her frame, gobs of her own organs leaking onto her robes. But the
wounds in her thick, fiendish skin were slowly closing.

Nearby, Jacob Maddings' corpse was sprawled on its back, eyes
gaping vacantly at the ceiling. Ceryna hauled herself to her
feet, grimacing in pain. Her hand clutched a violet gem tightly
enough to slice into her palm. A soul shard.

He was dead. The last tie to her past weighed in the palm of her
hand. She peered into the shard and could vaguely see a tiny
figure, as if reflected simultaneously in all its facets.
Brielfy, she considered keeping it as a trophy, but discarded the
idea. She wanted it gone.

She clasped the gem in both hands and closed her eyes, murmuring
the words of a spell. She began to channel a specific frequency
of fiendish energy through the shard, concentrating hard. The
soul within began to vibrate in harmony with the energy, and the
facets slowly changed. The shard shrank and melted as the
harmonic vibrations slowly (and probably painfully) distilled
every last ounce of health from the soul within, until all that
remained was a small, green lump of rock. Smiling, Ceryna
swallowed the stone.

Her wounds instantly closed, and she released a sigh of relief.
The pain was gone, and she felt whole and alive for the first
time since she'd died. Jacob Maddings was dead, but more
importantly, so was Allison Maddings. Only Ceryna remained.

"Well done, my pet."

Ceryna whirled as the massive form of Varimathras materialized
behind her, filling the large room. She snarled, a primal sound
drawn from her stomach into her throat completely on instinct.She
wished the sound was more anger and defiance than fear.

"I'm not your pet! I have nothing to say to you, demon."

"Ah, but I have much to say to you. I have come to congratulate
you. You have finally cast away all your ties to humanity. It is
time for you to become one of us. The Burning Legion wants you,
Ceryna."

"Never!" She grasped her scythe, and the blade burst into crimson
flame. She leapt, swinging the blade at Varimathras' neck with
all her strength. She landed and stopped in shock. The blade had
passed harmlessly through without leaving a mark.

"Are you quite finished?" Varimathras gave her a smug smile. "You
are not important enough for me to leave Sylvanus' side. This is
a projection, an image. However, it has served its purpose. It
would seem you are in need of a lesson in loyalty."

Varimathras looked to Haagrym, and the hell hound turned on
Ceryna with a snarl. It leapt at her, and her shock delayed her
counterstrike. Haagrym hit her full in the chest, knocking her
scythe from her hands and driving her to the ground. She
desperately grabbed its wrists, trying to keep its claws from her
flesh, holding its snapping beak at bay. She felt her demonic
armor spell vanish, consumed by the felhunter's magic, and before
she could summon it again, Haagrym silenced her with another
spell.

"Now do you understand, Ceryna? All your power is ours."
Varimathras moved to loom over her, grinning widely. "Everything
you are, everything you have ever accomplished is because of us!
Without the Legion, you are nothing! You made a bargain,
Ceryna... the time has come to give the devils their due."

Feeling the hot stink of Haagrym's breath on her face, Ceryna
feared he was right. She was going to die here, killed by her own
demon, and she would never see the Grim again, never know what it
meant to live a truly free life. Something inside her bent at
that thought, snapped, and a flood of anger poured forth. Since
her death, she had changed. She had become someone new. Allison
Maddings would have given up and let Oblivion take her.

Ceryna told Oblivion to go*^%# itself.

She stared Haagrym in its eyeless face, clenching her teeth hard
enough to make them creak and pop. She focused all her will on
it, calling on her bond, gathering the last, shredded ties of a
summoner's control and knotting them into a noose. With a grunt,
Ceryna forced her will on the felhunter.

For a moment, Haagrym's frenzy faltered, but it came back
fiercely. A wild lash tore open Ceryna's already ragged cheek,
and a small gout of ichor spilled forth. She did not even flinch.
Her arms were as iron, and Haagrym could not budge her.

The hellhound's snarls and struggles to reach her gradually
changed to whimpers and struggles to escape her grip. She
remained set, refusing to let go. Haagrym whined like a kicked
dog, its entire frame shivering for several moments, and then
finally collapsed atop her. Ceryna stroked its trembling flank
and slid from beneath it.

Standing, she faced Varimathras, whose face was a mask of shock.
"You're wrong, demon. I am my own woman, now. You made a deal
with Allison Maddings, but she is dead. She has slipped your
snare. I am Ceryna, and I have no dealings with your kind."

"How...?"

"Everyone who has everfaced a demon as I have has faced it with
nothing to lose. Only fear and hatred exist within them, and you
feast on that emptiness and grow stronger. I, however, have a
great deal to lose, and more to gain. I have shown Haagrym a
glimpse of true loyalty, which I was shown by my surrogate
family.That is why he could not stand to face me... because he
could not understand me." Varimathras snarled. "You still lose,
whatever you call yourself! The Burning Legion will revoke your
powers! Your demons will no longer answer your calls!"

"They will answer to me, dreadlord. They know who their true
master is, now. I know all your secrets, all your weaknesses."
She knelt, hefting her fiery scythe. "I have found an enchanter,
my Sister, Frain... she has etched runes into my scythe. They
slay demons, dreadlord.

"I am no longer a pawn of the Burning Legion. I am no longer a
warlock bent on world domination or destruction. I am a demon
hunter, now, and I will use my knowledge and power to find and
destroy your kind, until you are all dead, or I am."

Varimathras sneered. "Pretty words, Ceryna Demonbane, but you
have no idea how strong our influence goes. You swear loyalty to
Maledictus... but ask yourself to whom he swears loyalty?"

"Liar!"

The dreadlord laughed. "Sylvanus, Thrall, Vol'jin... even Cairne.
They have all fallen under our influence. Soon, through
experiments like what we perform here, we will bring forth a new
plague, worse than the Scourge could ever have been, and we will
annihilate this world." Ceryna gritted her teeth. "I will not
listen to your lies, demon."

"But you will dream about my words, Ceryna... we both know that."

As he faded, Ceryna could not help but shiver.

She severed the head of Jacob Maddings, as proof to Lord
Maledictus that he was dead. She granted the poor, helpless
victims of his experiments a quick death, and slipped out the
back once more, Haagrym limping at her side. She only glanced
back long enough to immolate the planks near the farmhouse, and
then she was gone, letting the entire rotten place burn. If only
uncertainly could be so easily burned away.