Shadows and Abductions by Lilliana

[Keeper Of Lore]

Shadows and Abductions

Lilliana - March 22, 2006

The night air had grown somewhat cool when Lilliana trotted her
raptor into the Valley of Honor in the great city of Orgrimmar.
Distant drums of war echoed against the tall buildings and played
with the young priestesses ears. She sighed as she listened to
the sounds of the city. These sounds were a constant reminder of
the plight that the Horde faced in their battle against the
armies of the Alliance. Lilly was tired, somewhat worn from her
battles this day. Her delicate and pretty face was a mixture of
exhaustion and disgust, causing creases in her face that almost
looked cute. Lilly had just come from Feralas, the forest
maintained partially by the strong tauren tribe of Mohache. Much
had happened between the battle of words between Warneshi and
Zuruzuru, and her brief encounter with Emmons.

While in Feralas, after discovering the experienced rogue lying
in the middle of the road, Lilly had begun to work as a priestess
with Emmons, trying to discern what was wrong with the Forsaken.
During that time Lilly realized how she hated her job as
priestess. Her desires lay within the shadows, but, her skills
also rested with the healing arts, whether she would admit it to
herself or not. Bringing both pain and hatred through shadow and
bringing redemption and comfort through holy light was to be part
of Lilliana as long as she was alive in this world.

Lilliana passed along the streets of Orgrimmar in the Valley of
Honor. Her dark red eyes skipped lazily across the other horde
that had business to attend to and errands to run. A few that
recognized the priestess nodded or bowed to her. Some did so
simply because she wore the mark of The Grim, her guild being
both respected and feared amongst those that fought for the
Horde’s “true” cause. Lilly responded politely to most of them.
Never before had the priestess receive so much attention until
she had joined the ranks of the Grim. Before long the Sandfury
Embassy came into site, situated beside a large pond with a small
fishing dock. Lilliana was sure that Warneshi was still working
within its walls, busy with his responsibilities as king to the
once great empire that she hailed from and her own mother once
served in. She leaned forward on her raptor, squinted her eyes
and saw the flash of red hair that told her Warneshi was still up
and working. Leaning back, the priestess played with her raptor’s
reins, causing the beast to pull its head away and squawk.

“Oh shut up, Boots!” Lilliana spoke harshly to the mount,
spurring it in its sides, causing it to rear and buck. Lilliana
was not kind to her raptor, but the beast never gave her reason
to. Both of them fought continuously, but then again, Lilliana
had never claimed to be a good rider and cared not for animals.

Once the raptor calmed, Lilliana slid from its scaly back, her
taloned feet hitting the dusty street without a sound. She tied
Boot’s reins to a post near the pond and began to walk the rest
of the way to Warneshi’s embassy on foot, wishing to speak with
the Sandfury King.

A tauren made his way across the road on an elderly kodo that
really should not have been allowed for use as a mount, for even
the beasts mighty legs seemed to creek under the heavy tauren’s
weight. Lilly stopped to regard the tauren as he passed, for his
eyes were on her and it made the priestess uncomfortable. What
she saw there within the tauren’s eyes were a strange emptiness
and deadly affections that one would see in a life long enemy.
Lilliana made a rude face at him and was ready to stick out her
tongue, but before the act was complete she felt a brush of fur
against her arm, a twist around her neck, and she was hoisted up
onto a wolf and placed in front of a massive orc. His hand was
over her mouth. There was another rider beside him, and together
they road with Lilliana into the shadows and away from the
Embassy.

It was as if Lilliana had never been on the street….had never
been walking to the Sandfury Embassy, so quietly and swiftly had
she been removed. Lilliana bit down upon the orc’s dirty hand,
but the orc only pressed his hand further into her mouth and
bashed the top of her head with his large chin, causing her world
to shatter into many pieces and deafen her ears. She struggled to
maintain consciousness, furious beyond belief that she could not
get her lips free to mutter a spell and curse this wretched
creature to hell. If she could just cast a spell, then yell,
Warneshi would hear her…but wait…what if this was another of
Warneshi’s “practical” jokes?

She watched as the other orc rider drew very close. The two
exchanged whispered words and the rider she could see gave her a
look that informed Lilliana this was no joke. The rider punched
the priestess so hard on the side of the head that her world went
black, and the trio disappeared, leaving the echoing drums of the
city to pound solemnly into the night.

[Keeper Of Lore]

[Warneshi]

Warneshi bruned the midnight oil, two requests of trade agrements
within days of each other, it seemed many where starting to
realize the importance of the Sandfury again. Warneshi wished he
could sleep, but ages past he had forgotten what sleep was. This
only allowed him to work more and more, Warneshi sighed...he
hated paperwork, perhaps he would take Chavies hint and burn it
all.

A scent hit Warneshi's nose like hammer to the face. It was one
he knew well, and it usually meant any work he hoped to
accomplish would never get done, or like many other times half
his paperwork would just "mysteriously disappear". Warneshi
decided to react how he always did, bury his nose further into
his scroll and papers and hope she might understand how important
this work was to their people. Warneshi smirked, she wouldn't,
but that was ok; inside Warneshi enjoyed her distractions.

After some time of waiting Warneshi was surprised to not see, or
more likely, hear Lilliana approach. What was more odd he could
no longer smell the priestess, what he did smell was orc sweat
and kodo dung. Warneshi stood up and went to the embassy door,
perhaps she was tryng some new game to annoy him.

Warneshi strode into the night and scanned the area around the
embassy, drawing deep breaths into his nostrels, hoping to
perhaps pick up some of her blood scent. All Warneshi saw was an
ancient looking Kodo lounging near its tauren rider beside the
pond. The Tauren looked to be napping, Warneshi payed him no
mind. But no sign of Lilliana, not even a scent. Warneshi
searched a bit more then returned to the embassy.

Warneshi could of sworn he smelled Lilliana, and orcs, but he saw
no orcs or Lilly. Warneshi drafted an order to his eyes and ears
to watch for sign's of the young priestess. Warneshi smirked, if
this was another one of her games he was going to win it, his
people had found her before and they would again. Warneshi
thought to the last time they had her brought to him, and let a
lose a small laugh; he did so enjoy their games. Warneshi
returned to his boring duties; a little dissapointed by the lack
of distraction from Lilly.

[Zuru]

Cold was the first sensation to greet Lilliana as consciousness
slowly seeped through the black nothingness of oblivion. As the
haze and white noise slowly separated in her mind, she
immediately commanded her body to move, and was met with no
reply. Numbness pressed itself upon her, its weight crushing her
beneath an iron heel, rendering her unable to make even the
simplest gesture or chant the feeblest of prayers. Bound and
gagged upon a creaking wooden chair, she had no choice but to
allow the circumstances of this event to be revealed. Suddenly,
like daggers piercing a veil, flashes of memory began to return
to her. A wizened tauren ambled upon an old kodo down the streets
of Orgrimmar as she headed to the Sandfury embassy…she recalled
she had sensed something odd about him; then, an attack from
behind. She had caught a glimpse of her attacker before he had
knocked her out …an orc rider to be certain, but his armor;
something had seemed amiss. Her mind raced, grasping through the
thick fog that obscured her memory to reach the missing detail.
The crest upon his chest piece…yes, it bore the mark of the
Thrall’s guard! Another flash…a brief moment of consciousness,
the scene containing the orc that had abducted her and two
cloaked figures. The orc grunt laughed, as Lilliana saw the
decapitated head of the old tauren she had passed lying on the
dirt ground, casually tossed aside. Her enemies apparently
unaware of her return to consciousness, the priestess readied a
spell, only to be taken from behind by an unseen foe, who tugged
a heavy sack over her head. She heard footsteps scurrying about
the villain’s camp, and loosed the dark flames she had prepared
at the sound. A cry resounded through the night, as her spell
struck down one of her foes. Again she began to speak the words
and summon her will to tap the shadow, but even as she did, a
fugue set upon her, draining her ability to act. A strange,
pungent odor filled her nostrils, and she felt herself slow, even
as unknown hands seized her and began to drag her away. She
opened her soul to the shadows, felt the familiar touch of the
Nether begin to change her, to consume her, yet just as swiftly
those tendrils began to regress, replaced instead by the coming
dark of unconsciousness.

Her mind raced, assembling the scattered pieces of the puzzle. It
wasn’t long ago that Warneshi had used a similar tactic to
“abduct” her into his presence. But that act held a more prankish
nature; Warneshi would have revealed his hand by now. Small
amounts of feeling had begun to return to Lilliana’s extremities;
the claws on her feet scratched against a damp stone floor. She
could tell her garments had been mostly removed; only her
undergarments clothed her, besides the heavy burlap sack covering
her head. She gnashed her teeth against the leather strap that
silenced her; her captors apparently knew of her capabilities,
and had taken measures to render her impotent. No fear crept into
her heart; thoughts of vengeance staged a bloody drama in her
mind. Her enemies would soon step into the performance, and she
would be the only one to take the final bow.

Time passed, with no meaning or change to mark its demise.
Sensation flitted to and from her body; only hunger and cold
lingered to make any lasting impression. No sound passed into her
cell, save that from her occasional struggles in her chair and
the scratch of her talons against the floor. It became so that
Lilliana could no longer tell the difference between being awake
and asleep. With no stimuli to feed her mind, only dreams and
plans of retribution served for her to dine upon. Then, without
warning, a sound; lock being unlatched and heavy-booted footsteps
entering the room. Instinctually, she willed her hands into the
gestures required to summon her otherworldly powers. And yet
still her body betrayed her. Coarse laughter filled the room as
the sack was torn roughly from her head. Lilliana blinked as
sight painfully returned to her. Through a teary-eyed blur, she
could make out no light in the room, only rough dimensions of her
prison and a tall silhouette standing beside her. Her head turned
upon the figure and her teeth dug into the strap which gagged
her. Her captor roughly jerked her back by her hair and chuckled
cruelly. Lilliana felt a weathered hand begin to caress her cheek
and with deliberate slowness travel down her neck. The laughter
transformed into a guttural grunt as the hand continued to slide
down her body, finally resting upon her unclad thigh. Jagged
fingernails sank into the muscle of her leg and jerked it roughly
away from its counterpart. A splash of hot liquid struck Lilliana
in the face, the taste all copper and salt in her mouth, and the
hand on her leg slowly lost its grip. She could hear the sound of
something heavy being dragged across the floor, but could see
nothing.

“Ah, good help is so hard to find these days. My apologies,
Lilliana. Many of those in my line of employ succumb quite easily
to their baser instincts.” The voice was as smooth as silk, yet
lacked any other distinguishing quality such as accent or
emotion. Every word seemed carefully measured, almost scripted in
its concise, punctual manner. “You may find yourself wondering
exactly where you are, or indeed, why you are even “here” to
begin with. I know that these are the questions that would prey
upon my mind should I have found myself sitting where you are
right now,”-there was a laugh,” which thankfully, I am not. And
yet today you will find no revelations, save those which you come
across by your own epiphany. There will be no introductions, no
grand unveiling of some diabolical plot….no, those things are
best reserved for megalomaniacs of a lesser caliber than myself.
What I can say is that this small interruption of your normal,
boring routine has in fact very little to do with you. You see,
you have as of late “crossed paths,” one might say, with an old
associate of mine. And I feel he needed a reminder on just who it
is he belongs to. You are singular in that respect, young
priestess, in that my hand has not been forced this far in some
time. Oh, he has had dalliances before, but all the young must
sow their oats, yes, and never has he cared for any of the
others. Not as he does you. Personally, I don’t see what it is in
you that sets you apart. I find the color of your skin rather
distasteful. Perhaps it is the hair…in some small part of his
subconscious, it may remind him of his father.”

“You are not going to die today, Lilliana. In fact, you may
consider yourself far safer than you have ever been in your life.
For as long as you serve a purpose to my boy, you are under my
protection. And until I come calling for him, no blade will end
you except mine. Shortly I will put you to sleep and you will
awaken in a room in Everlook. The room had been booked under your
name for the past three days. It is paid. You need merely turn
the key, which will be amongst your belongings, to the innkeeper.
Rest easy, your items have been unharmed and unaltered. I would
suggest ordering a meal; the smoked boar is excellent. I can
assure you that you will not see me again unless it is of my
choosing. You would do well to keep in mind that that can happen
at any time. That really is the point of this whole exercise,
isn’t it? You and your “friend” belong to me.”

An uncomfortable silence hung briefly until being broken by that
mysterious, serpentine voice. “Well, I am a businessman, first
and foremost, my dear. I should allow you some paltry reward for
your time and labors. A question. One question. I may even answer
it.” Lilliana felt her gag fall loosely into her lap.

“One question.” She spat the blood in her mouth on the floor,
cursing this creature while preparing a counterattack. This was
frustrating, for his earlier statements of refusing introductions
and failing to unveil any particular plots hung in Lilly’s tired
head. What could she ask? Her red eyes settled in the direction
of the owner of that unknown voice. She pulled against her bonds,
and then suddenly relaxed. Before she asked her question, she
wanted to allow her mind to fall into the dark recesses of
shadow. Although the dark tendrils did not surround and cater to
her form of shadow, she was readying herself in a silent,
unobtrusive manner. When Lilly spoke, her voice was much clearer,
and to the creature in the room with her, it sounded strangely
young, even innocent in tone, “You said I serve a purpose to your
‘boy’. What is that purpose, so that I may carry it out better
for you?” It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in Lilliana’s
last few words, even though she tried to disguise it. Some things
Lilly could just not change about herself.

Bellowing laughter echoed off of the stone walls of the darkened
room, tempting Lilliana to not even wait for a reply. The
laughter soon ceased, replaced by the cool voice of her
kidnapper. “That purpose should be obvious, should it not, my
dear? You keep him happy, well-laid, and motivated. You give him
something to live for. You give him something to be afraid of
losing. And as long as he has that, he will strive to be
stronger. And I need him strong. It is through the accident of
your character that you serve my purpose, Lilliana. And so by
merely being yourself, you prove a loyal dog.”

The silence that came from Lilliana was absolutely deafening. At
least it seemed so for her. When she opened her mouth, she said
in the most childishly hateful voice, "What?! You
stupidheadedbastardedbuggershitfaced wretch!” screamed Lilliana
as shadows rose from the very essence of her being to strike at
her foe. A cloud of hellish energy formed in the room and thrust
itself at the unseen figure, mimicking its conjurer’s rage.
Lilliana heard something crash into the wall in front of her. Her
body came alive with feeling, the dark energies she called forth
feeding off of the anger in her heart and returning to her an
unbridled strength she had never felt before. Without hesitation,
she prepared a spell to shatter his mind with agony. She could
now barely make out a small figure arising from the floor, and
was briefly taken aback at the size of her nemesis. She cried
out, and the spell struck true, only to be brushed aside by the
swiftly approaching shape. Lilliana only had time to let loose a
gasp of air before her throat split open and she felt the warm
rush of her blood upon her chest. Strangely, there was no
pain…the only thing she felt was the contrast of her own blood
hot against the rapid coolness setting into her body. The world
swayed a bit, and then hung frozen in time. A flash of silver
served as a precursor to the sudden rush of air into Lilliana’s
lungs. Startled, she could not struggle as a sack was again
pushed down over her head.

[Keeper Of Lore]

“You are indeed a lucky one, Lilliana! To have been kissed by
both Saint and Sinner in the same day…allow me an amount of
exposition, as I am proud of my weapons. Sinner…well, Sinner
never misses his mark, and is always fatal. Saint…Saint can undo
any wound made by his twin. Very clever little blades aren’t
they.” It may have been some hallucination caused by the
incapacitation effects of whatever poison lined the heavy bag,
but Lilliana could swear she heard the smacking of lips in the
room. “Pray to whatever spirits you keep that you never meet my
sword, priestess.”

Darkness claimed her as her adversary unbound her and threw her
across his shoulders. “Now then, to Everlook with you, and a
proper bed. Sleep well, Lilliana. Dream well. And keep to those
dreams, for I can take all the world away from you.”

[Lilliana]

Lilliana had ridden her raptor extremely hard through the
darkening fields of Ashreza. She had rushed past blood elven
camps, although all seemed quiet and empty save for one, where
she noted a tuft of blond hair hidden behind a bush. She paid it
no mind, her destination was the seaside. Lilly often came here
when at her wits end. No horde found her here, nor did any
alliance. It was like her safe haven.

Lilliana had been free from her kidnapping escapade for about a
week now. Immediately upon return she had made a report to Abric
(then her superior as he is an Irredeemable, now an equal since
her promotion). The rogue had been harsh with Lilliana, which
informed her of just where the Grim stood. It was something she
could easily live with. She had never expected the Grim to gather
and help protect it’s members, but Abric’s “reassurance” that the
Grim would stay out of her business was strangely, reassuring…..
Although dear Warneshi and Morn had made statements that Lilliana
would remain under their sights and thus their protection,
Lilliana understood the limits of protection she was faced with.
She was not fearful, but her mind remained alert, and ready, and
that in itself was extremely wearing.

The moon hung dimly within the dark sky when Lilliana reached the
shore, the sand sparkling in reflection of the moon light. Lilly
was off of her raptor before he even stopped running. She set him
lose, and immediately swiped some stones from the sand, and
started to skip them across the calm turf of the ocean. Although
it was not smart of Lilliana to be out alone after her abduction,
she rationalized that if she was taken feet from the Sandfury
Embassy and taken so closely from Warneshi and smack in the
middle of the city, being alone in the middle of no where would
make little difference.

Lilliana did not realize that during her wild run, that she had
been spotted. Once she reached the sore her particular presence
was now known by another entity. The tuft of blond hair that
belonged to a blood elf had reported the presence of a young
rogue would take it of interest. The rogue took it upon himself
to follow Lilliana’s trail, which would lead him to the smooth
sand of the sea side. He watched the priestess from up on a hill,
completely baffled that he would run into that one here. He
ensured that he remained invisible, he did not want to let his
presence known to her yet, there was some fun to be had with the
little priestess first. She seemed so occupied, tossing stones
across the surf and spinning about as if she was partly dancing,
that it was easy for the rogue to creep down the hill until he
was but meters from the priestess. The rogue stuck his hand into
his pockets, and pulled out some flash crackers, he tossed them
at Lilliana’s feet, and they hit the sand with a loud crack and a
flash of yellow fiery light. Lilliana whirled around with a hiss,
her red eyes searching for her attacker. She would not be taken
so easily this time! There was an uprising of shadowy tendrils
that spit across her body as she embraced the shadow of the
nether. She itched to have something…someone to latch one of her
hateful spells against, but she saw nothing! She screamed
hatefully into the night air…

“Come out so I can play with you!”

The rogue smirked to himself. What a match the two of them were,
he thought, although the tone in the priestesses voice did enough
to send chills down his spine, however brave and wicked he was.
He decided upon a new game, he would reveal himself to the
frightened priestess, but kept his cloak over his head so she
could not see who he was, prolonging his “game”. He withdrew his
stealth, and stepped into the open, saying to her in a voice he
thought to be altered to that of his own “So, you want to play do
you?” He outstretched his hand, where a small explosive sparked
gently. This was a mistake upon the rogue’s part, for Lilliana
was more than ready to cast a spell to wreck the body of her foe.
Lilliana did not consider the rogue, once she could target him,
she began to cast a spell that would take the rogue’s mind and
flay it into something that would resemble oatmeal. The rogue
made a squawk of surprise that sounded faintly familiar to the
priestess in her quickened rage, and before the spell was
released, and Lilly stopped herself. Instead of attacking with a
death blow, Lilliana used her wand, aiming a fire ball at the
rogue’s extended hand, causing the fire cracker he held to
explode.

“By all the cursed spirits, Lilly....OW!” The rogue cried out in
shock and threw back his hood, shot the priestess an angry glare
and proceeded to blow furiously on the smoking limb. With mock
anger, he thrust his hand towards her, the bluish skin of his
palm blistering rapidly. Lilliana saw that this rogue was a
troll, and not just any troll. He was very familiar to Lilliana
with his thick tusks and his blaze of wild blue hair, and
although he was not one of the Grim, this one had Lilliana's
trust, if not more...

“Zuru?” Lilliana said softly, pocketing her wand and staring at
the rogue with disbelieving and very relieved eyes. The shadow
tendrils that caressed Lilliana’s body receded with a gentle hiss
as the priest relaxed. As she transitioned back into her gentler
form, Lilliana turned solemn.

“Ya'd best be gettin' about healing this, lassy! My hands are me
livelihood!” The rogue then broke into hysterical laughter which
bordered a bit on insanity. “And a proper how-do-ya-do might be
fit as well!” Although the rogue acted the typical fool, Lilly
could tell by his slightly stooped posture and the heavy creasing
in his face that the rogue was well-worn. Lilliana raised her
hands and offered a prayer to heal the rogue, and Zuru felt the
familiar gentle touch of the priestesses magics. The feel of her
magics within him was always welcome, as was her very presence.
Zuru checked his hand once it was healed, and took a step back
from the priestess, stroking his chin while he regarded her. “Uh
oh, what did I do now?” He laughed. “Ok, ok…I’ve been to a few
taverns, but me days of wenching are long since gone, love! Only
nice tips and business, purely dependent upon the service, well,
that and how much coin I knicked during the day!” Again he
laughed, but Lilliana’s face did not lighten despite his jovial
tone. This caused the rogue to move forward and he placed his
hands upon her shoulders, asking her gently while drawing close,
“So tell me then lass, what have you been doin’ in the painfully
long span a’ time since I last saw ya?”

Zuru tilted his head at Lilliana, he felt the priest tremble, and
if he had not already moved so close to the shadow priestess, she
would have flung herself at him. What Lilliana did was throw her
arms around Zuru and embrace the rogue so strongly that even
tough Zuru thought she would take all the breath from him! The
rogue laughed softly as she took him into her arms, feeling
revitalized as no amount of rest could possibly grant. The usual
wild grin that danced across the rogue’s face that added to his
crazed appearance slid into something caring and sincere, for
Lilliana’s show of warmth (a very rare thing from the childish
shadow priestess) melted the rogue to his very core. Anything
could have caught him off guard at this point, for Lilliana held
his world and it lay entirely in Zuru’s arms. Whooping with
laughter, he lifted her up and spun her around. All thoughts of
the wicked world fell away as he whispered her name into her ear
over and over again and kissed her cheeks.

However beautiful a picture the two painted here as Zuru showered
Lilliana with attention, the priestess stiffened, although this
was hardly a rebuff to the tender and warm ministrations offered
to her by the rogue. Lilliana and not planned on telling Zuruzuru
of her abduction, she had not bothered the Grim with the details
of her tale, and even had not been truthful with Warneshi when he
had questioned her of the specifics. But, Lilliana’s plan of
keeping Zuru safe from the knowledge of what had happened was
washed away as he whispered her name against her ear, his voice
and his touch reassuring her that she was safe, at least for the
moment. When Zuru stopped spinning her, which he did once he felt
the priestess stiffen, Lilliana did not relinquish her embrace of
the rogue.

Zuruzuru pressed his forehead against Lilliana’s, careful of his
tusks as they tickled the soft skin of her face. He did not sense
right off the haunted demeanor that Lilliana still possessed, it
had not left her even though she had relaxed within his presence.
Lilliana opened her mouth to speak, and although her captor had
not once uttered his name, before his blade had met her throat
she had pieced together who he was.

Lilliana said quietly, “I met Gabricci….”

[Keeper Of Lore]

[Zuru]

The full moon over Azeroth cut a deep wound in the thunderheads
that loomed over Orgrimmar, its silver light illuminating a
thousand starry teardrops over the city. The desert rain was hot;
the rogue that reclined on the earthen building that housed the
city’s bank was anything but. Not even the bottle of costly rum
that Zuruzuru had poured down his gullet in generous quantities
had brought warmth to him this night. The numbness that crawled
lethargically through his body had no earthly cure, for the root
of the disease lay in his mind, and the dark thoughts that played
about within it. The troll idly spun a platinum band on his
finger, the ring casting silvery halos into his crimson eyes.
Though not generally given to introspection, of late the rogue
had regrettably taken to thinking of things beyond his immediate
satisfaction. For a moment he imagined the ring held a piece of
his soul, and in turn, that shard was held by powers beyond his
control; powers he had, for the time, given his allegiance to.
Zuru laughed an empty laugh. In his entire life, he had sworn
only three oaths that he would hold to, and his servitude to the
Mekket Circle was not one of them. A final spin sent the band
sliding back onto his taloned finger. He would serve them as he
saw fit, but only long enough to bring down his adversary;
Zuruzuru would never be a slave again, even if betraying the
organization would lead to his end. Better to die than to
surrender his freedom. Zuru gnashed his teeth. Before, the future
lay only a moment ahead in time. Before, the rogue had nothing to
lose. But ever since meeting her, all of that had changed.

Zuru stood up, wobbling on slightly drunken legs, and tossed the
empty bottle of rum into the streets below before procuring
another from his bags. Throwing his head back and drinking
deeply, the rogue exploded in maniacal laughter. That damn
priestess had given his heart an anchor, and his life a purpose.
He would have to think of an especially exquisite form of
mischief to pay her back for that curse! His spirits had begun to
rise as the rain began to fall with greater strength onto the
dirt streets of Orgrimmar. As his eyes scanned the city below, he
noticed a small cloaked figure heading into city’s inn. Perhaps
it was nothing, but the gait of the walk, the sheer confident
presence that struck Zuru even though he stood some hundred yards
away from the diminutive form bade Zuru to investigate further.
He dropped from the bank’s rooftop and hurried to the inn.

The figure had already seated himself and thrown back his cloak
by the time Zuru entered the common room. Deep green skin had
wrinkled and creased around the goblin’s face since the last time
Zuru had seen him, yet he would be considered handsome still by
his own peoples’ standards. His yellow eyes flashed of cruel
intelligence as they ran up and down Zuru’s body, plainly taking
a measure of the troll’s abilities and judging them lacking. A
chill ran up Zuru’s spine as Gabricci’s stoic face broke into a
warm smile of recognition and he gestured for the troll to join
him at his table.

“Please, my old student. Sit. Talk. We have much to catch up on
and I fear very little time alone to do so.” Gabricci Gonzola’s
voice held the same cold arrogance it had in the past, and that
cursed grin had not left his face; it remained, warmth masking
malice, as the goblin casually stroked the waxed crescent of
white hair that hung from his chin.

Zuru pulled a chair out from the table, and rested his half-empty
bottle of rum upon the tabletop. As he sat, his cunning eyes
quickly scanned the room. The inn was too quiet for such an
evening. Other than Zuruzuru and the goblin, only a lone orc
occupied the common room, seated at the table before Gabricci’s.
Zuru noted the unusual shadow that played against the wall where
the orc took his meal, slightly smaller than one of such girth
should cast, and smiled secretly to himself. “Don’t bother
buyin’, Gabricci. I brought me own.”

“So I see, Zuru my boy. Although I had not planned on being your
patron this evening…by my understanding, you have employment
enough on your own, and the spoils that go with it. Would you
mind if I indulged myself a bit of that rum?”

Zuru coolly pushed the bottle across the table. Gabricci took a
polite, almost delicate sip from the amber bottle before handing
it back to his former pupil. “Not poisoned even? I must say, I am
a bit disappointed. After all, we are almost brothers now, aren’t
we, and I know how long your kin survive around you.”

Beneath the table, Zuru clenched a tight fist, his knuckles
becoming a pale white underneath his gloves. The game was afoot.
The only question that remained was how long the troll could
withstand Gabricci’s taunting before lashing out, which was
assuredly the goblin’s goal. Mere months ago, had the troll been
faced with this scenario, he would have been torn with conflict;
the horror Gabricci had inflicted upon Lilliana had crystallized
his emotions. Zuru had indeed looked upon his old mentor as a
father, even as the old goblin took him to murder his actual
sire. By threatening the troll priestess, the goblin had taken a
dagger to any love Zuru had in his heart for his mentor and
destroyed it. Zuru unclenched his fist and allowed his rage to
recede back into the dark corners of his mind.

“Never killed a brother before, Gabricci. But who knows? Sounds
kind of fun, and today is as good a day to start as any.”

The goblin laughed. “Now there is the Zuru I know!! Cold-hearted,
a killer to his very core. Say, my lad, if you wanted to join the
Circle, why didn’t you speak to me? I took you under my wing
once…you’d have no reason to think I would not again.”

“I had me reasons for not seekin’ out the yer kindness, such as
it is, Gabricci. I know it ain’t chance for us to be sittin’ here
right now, starin’ each other down over a bit of alcohol. You
wanted me to see you here, else I wouldn’t have…tell me, what is
it ya want?”

“What have I ever wanted from you, Zuruzuru, but a pupil, a
friend, an heir perhaps, should the reaper comes to sweep this
old goblin away? Perhaps all I have ever really wanted from you
is loyalty…to see you choose my ends for your own, and for you to
come to me for guidance in furthering your growth.”

Zuru laughed coldly, mirthlessly. “Funny way you have showin’
friendship, twice leaving me for fish chum with a bleedin’ poison
in me guts and makin’ pawns of those dear to me in yer little
games. Or have ya forgotten in yer old age what ya’ve done to me
and mine, eh? I hear the mind is the first thing to leave ya,
when the Nether starts callin’ ya home.”

Gabricci’s face twisted into a cruel mask of anger. “My home is
the world, troll, the world of stone and blood and steel. I have
walked it for longer than you shall ever know. My walkings have
made me a hungry creature, a thing of such elemental avarice that
few would believe, and I am not quick to find my release from it.
You should understand that before you speak, Zuru, although I am
not sure your primitive, animal mind can grasp such a high
concept.”

Gabricci mechanically calmed, regaining the countenance of a
cheerful, wizened old man. “And with regards to our previous
altercations my friend, in time you will come to see them as I
do…small matters, my friend, in a much larger world. I had a job
to do, Zuruzuru, and you were in my way. You should be thanking
me that I left you with only poison and not a swift trip to the
underworld! As far as your little priestess is concerned….she’s
making you soft, boy. You’d do best to give her a few coins and
kiss her off like you would a common tavern wench. It would have
been a second favor I’d have done you, by putting her out of your
misery, but alas, I am seldom that generous.”

“Ain’t usually so generous meself, not tryin’ to put a dagger in
yer heart right now, Gonzola,” said Zuru. The goblin responded to
the troll’s threat with an arrogant smirk, to which the rogue
replied, “I’ve no doubt that it’s a fight I wouldn’t win, but I
have no fear of ya, mate, and I’ve been the underdog many a time
and still chewed me way to the top of the heap.”

The old goblin smiled impishly. “Your appraisal of a struggle
between us is most astute, my boy, but I will grant your present
position far exceeds your level of talent. Empirical proof of the
concept of ‘luck,’ to be sure. Fear not for your precious lady
love, Zuru; if I wanted her dead, the worms would already be
gnawing away on her lovely white bones. In my actions towards
her, I only wished to prove a point about the fickle illusion
that is security. Besides, in a way you are right. I have taken
so much from you already. With age, comes wisdom and I have
reached the conclusion that I should repay my debt to you, and
allow you to choose the method of my repentance.”

Zuru’s eyes narrowed coldly upon the creature he once looked to
as a father. “What game are you playin’ at, ya old bastard?” Zuru
spat the words at the goblin, and in his mind his hands were
around Gabricci’s throat, choking frothy pleadings of mercy from
his mentor and giving them no reply.

“The same game I always play, Zuru. You should know me well
enough by now. Perhaps my lengthy absence has dulled my teachings
in your mind. Yet another reason why I have felt the need to
re-enter your life, lad….although we may be brothers in the same
order, I always looked upon you as somewhat of a wayward son.
Before we make our final gambits, please, satiate an old friend’s
curiosity? Again I ask, what made you seek out the Elf for your
initiation into the Circle? So much has transpired in your young
life as of late, and one of my intelligence cannot help but see a
grander design in your movements.”

Answers were the pieces in this chess game of words, and Zuru
bitterly decided to concede this move to the goblin. “Well,
Gabs,” said Zuru in flippant anger, as he knew the goblin hated
being called the nickname his student had given him years ago, “I
may have learned a thing or two about ambition from ya, in
addition to some mediocre swordplay.” Zuru snorted to punctuate
his sentence. “Only the finest can belong to the Circle, and
despite our “differences,” I thought the path you’d set out
before me was the best way to accomplish me ends. I chose to
travel the route of greatest gain. Simple business, mate…nothing
more.”

Again, Zuru’s words were met with laughter from Gabricci. “You
never were a good liar, Zuru. If you wish to swim with the
sharks, boy, you had best become one. The Circle does not stand
for weakness, and while we are bound by common interests, to
think there are not circles within circles, plot within plots,
well, these are the common fantasies of a fool. Indeed, Zuru, I
suspect your crude mind has hatched some scheme of retribution
against my person. Son, do you truly see yourself as some
avenger, come down from the Light to strike down an evil yet
fiendishly charming adversary?” Gabricci held up his hand before
his face. “Your hands are as bloodstained as mine, lad. You will
never be clean.”

Gabricci’s face hardened, his yellow eyes staring deep into the
soul of his former student. “Even now your eyes betray your
curiosity as to my motives. And as you have asked, Zuruzuru, I
shall at the very least slightly tip my hand to you. I came with
a proposal for you. Thus far, I have been met with nothing but
spite and attempts at obfuscation. Indeed, my giving heart has
been cooled by your stubborn refusal to grow past the simpleton
you have always been. However, I am a seeker of profit and I can
still gain from you, even as pathetic as you are. I offer you a
choice” The goblin withdrew a ceramic flask from within his vest
and set it on the table. “Life, Zuruzuru. I regret the wound I
inflicted upon you when I left the company of the jolly Green
Cutlass. I would give you what most residents of this hateful
sphere have…a life no longer under the executioner’s axe, never
knowing when it will fall. Death comes to all, that is certain,
but for you….I can only imagine how it must feel, knowing the
cold hand of oblivion dwells within you, tightening with each
passing second. Even now, I see it on your face…things have
worsened, haven’t they? Your skin paling, body weakening…I am
old, but move as if I were twenty winters younger than I seem.
You, on the other hand…the Kiss of the Goblin Spider feeds on
your energy, steals the prime of your life away from you…most
unenviable position for any, really.”

“All you have to do, old friend, is leave that wench of yours,
leave the shoddy crew the Elf has tossed you to, and join me.
Think of all the fun we could have,” laughed Gabricci mirthfully.
“It’ll be just like the good old days!”

Zuruzuru lowered his head and closed his eyes. His mouth cracked
into the smile of a madman, all jagged teeth and tusks from
ear-to-ear. Insane laughter woke the sleeping patrons of the inn
as the wild-eyed troll raised his head and look at Gabricci.

“Yer head is leavin’ ya, Gabs, if ya thought the old days were
that good to begin with,” said Zuruzuru, rising from his seat and
holding his arms out before the goblin. “See these? No more
chains. If ya knew me as well as ya thought, ya’d know me freedom
comes even before me life, and ya’d never set such a “proposal”
before me. If that’s all ya have to give, I’ll be takin’ my leave
now.”

The goblin exhaled deeply, saying, “Yes, Zuru. I suppose you will
be.” Gabricci waved his hand over a purple jewel set within a
gold band on his finger, and the image of the orc behind them
dissolved in a flash of light, replaced by a black-hooded
Forsaken warrior, a heavy sword bearing down swiftly upon the
troll rogue. Having already expected an attack from the rear,
Zuru deftly sidestepped the attack and deflected the blade with
his long sword, sending the two-hander crashing into the goblin’s
table. The wood splintered, and the flask containing Zuru’s
promised cure was sent twirling across the inn’s floor. The
troll’s weapon flashed in the air, and the dead man quickly lost
a sword arm. Another quick thrust into the undead’s jaw found
blade meeting brain, and the Forsaken found death’s respite once
again.

Seeing the flask only a short distance away, Zuru saw the chance
to transform adversity into opportunity. Whether or not the cure
held with the container proved to be true, the troll knew he had
to take the risk; the only thing that stood in his way was the
old goblin. Oh well, thought the troll, looks like this is
another fine mess I’ve gotten meself into.

Instantly his blades found themselves in his hands as the goblin
hissed and armed himself with his twin daggers. Their blades
clashed, the ring of steel sweet music in the air as Zuru dashed
to acquire the flask. Parrying a low thrust from Gabricci with
his long sword, Zuru stabbed high with his dagger, aiming for the
goblin’s throat. With supernatural speed, the goblin spun away
from Zuru’s blow and sent a dagger flying towards the flask,
shattering the vessel and spilling its contents about the inn’s
floor. A quick tumble and the goblin recovered his dagger, once
again facing down his former student. Zuruzuru cursed his foe. He
would have gladly risked death by Gabricci’s hand should a cure
for his poison be in reach, but with his prize destroyed, the
battle turned to one of mere survival.

Gabricci lunged at Zuru, bringing both daggers upon the troll’s
weapons. He pressed the attack relentlessly, forcing Zuru to
backpedal and carry the fight into the streets. The goblin drew
first blood, one cruel slash wounding Zuru in the right forearm
and leaving an opening for a second attack across his midsection.
Gabricci’s movements were fluid, a dance; one attack carried into
another, and so the fatal ballet continued. Zuru noticed that
Gabricci favored the dagger in his left hand, the only one to
wound him so far. He conjectured that blade must be Saint, as the
wounds inflicted by Gabricci’s other dagger, Sinner, were always
mortal. The goblin was not fighting to kill, and that gave Zuru
an advantage. Bringing his sword down in a high arc, Zuru began
assaulting Gabricci strongly in his right side, forcing him to
use Saint to defend. As long as the goblin did not commit himself
to kill Zuru, the troll could purchase precious seconds to devise
a strategy and defeat his old master.

Guttural screaming came from the warring couple’s right, as a
cadre of orcish guards barreled down upon them, drawn by the fray
and the shouts of onlookers. Stepping away from each other, the
two rogues shared a brief smile as both tossed their cloaks over
their heads. Leaping aggressively towards the newfound
distractions to their duel, Zuruzuru felled the first guard, a
round oaf of an orc who by the looks of it could barely fit his
armor. A solid thud sounded Gabricci’s defeat of another grunt,
and the two rogues found themselves back-to-back, surrounded by
four more axe-wielding soldiers. The two became a mirror of each
other; hands shot out, casting stinging powder into the eyes of
the orcs in front of them, while the two rogues rushed to each
side and hurriedly dispatched their stunned opponents. The
rain-washed streets ran slick with blood as the two shadows
danced with uncanny grace between their brutish foes, and soon
the two found themselves alone again, red eyes meeting yellow as
the moon hung mournfully in the sky above them.

Gabricci charged Zuru, who adopted a defensive stance, only to
have the goblin leap to a nearby rooftop several paces before
reaching him. Spinning around, Zuru crouched to gather strength
in his legs and jumped, grabbing a rafter and twirling himself
atop the building. The rogue rapidly regained his footing, his
eyes searching the cityscape for signs of the goblin. He heard a
movement behind him, a second too late as the pommel of
Gabricci’s dagger caught Zuru in the temple. The world spun, the
deep blue of the night colored by splashes of red as Gabricci
unleashed a flurry of attacks. Regaining his senses, the troll
deflected the goblin’s next barrage and broke into a sprint,
descending into a nearby alley below. A cry came from an old orc
female who resided in the alleyway, a beggar by all indication. A
second cry came as a crimson flower blossomed in her chest,
Gabricci’s smiling face peeking out from behind her as the goblin
twisted Sinner into her back. Zuru lunged at the woman, beheading
her with one stroke and kicking her body into the other rogue.
Gabricci stumbled back and shoved the corpse away from him.
Knowing he could not give his opponent a single inch, Zuru
attacked again, his sword missing the goblin’s throat by inches
as he brought his dagger up to block Gabricci’s counterattack.
The troll spun, using the speed of his previous swing to bring
him full circle into another, his dagger a blur behind its
counterpart in a death-dealing whirlwind. The sword failed to
find its target, and again Gabricci knocked the dagger aside.
Seeking to riposte, the senior rogue slipped his blade down the
length of the troll’s, hoping to cut him at the wrist and deny
Zuru his stronger hand. But the two had practiced this maneuver
time and again, and if nothing else, the troll was a cunning
student. Wise to the feat, Zuru flipped the dagger in his hand so
that the guard would meet the tip of Gabricci’s blade. The goblin
hesitated for the span of half a breath, momentarily in awe that
his attack had failed. Zuru took the opening, aiming the next
thrust of his sword at Gabricci’s exposed ribs. The blade glanced
off of the goblin’s armor and sliced through his cape. Dancing
backward, the goblin shook his head clear of his initial shock
and drew himself into a tight crouch. Gabricci then sprung
cat-like at the wall of the alleyway and pushed himself off of
the brick, his leap carrying him directly at Zuruzuru. The troll
crossed his blades to absorb the brunt of Gabricci’s assault, but
the weight of the attack pushed him back into the wall, and the
two locked weapons. Unearthly strength fueled the goblin, and
Zuru found himself with his mentor’s blades only inches from his
face. Faced with no other options, the rogue released his grip on
his weapons and ducked down, shifting aside as Gabricci’s
momentum sent him crashing into the wall. The old goblin laughed
as he kicked away Zuru’s blades and spun his daggers into their
sheaths.

“Let’s end this, boy,” said the goblin. “You have no chance of
winning, and your death holds no meaning to me…not now, at least.
You will walk away in shame, Zuru, but you will walk away alive.”

Zuru’s eyes quickly took stock of the situation. His dagger laid
some twelve paces behind Gabricci, his sword roughly twenty. A
lot of ground to cover in a matter of seconds; bad odds to be
sure, but the rogue always was bad at the gambling table. A flick
of his wrist sent a small pouch of explosive flash powder into
Zuru’s hand. Casting it at the ground, the powder burst into
smoke and flame, obscuring the entirety of the alleyway. From the
cloud of smoke below, two figures rose up to land on the rooftops
above. Gabricci grinned at his student as Zuru raced towards him.
The goblin dodged to his left as Zuru shot past him, and Saint
found its mark as it cut across Zuru’s back. Hitting the clay
shingles of the rooftop hard, Zuru rolled off and back into the
alleyway. The troll felt his ribs shatter and twist inside his
body as he hit the wet earth, but pain could not concern him now;
his sword sat mere feet away.

Gabricci descended to the alleyway and slowly, deliberately
stepped towards the troll as he scrambled for his weapon. Zuru’s
hand stretched out to grab the blade’s handle, when suddenly
Gabricci thrust Saint straight through Zuru’s hand, embedding it
into the street below. The troll howled in pain. He had reached
his limit, and now sat entirely at the mercy of his old teacher.

“You should know the Circle offers you very little protection,”
Gabricci quipped. “True, I cannot move against you as openly now,
but really Zuru, have you and I ever done things by the light of
day? An admirable move, particularly for one of your cunning. But
ultimately, my boy, a futile one.”

The goblin stepped back and drew an ornately decorated rapier
from his side. “Incantu devas,” spoke Gabricci, and Venger came
alive with black flame. Serpentine dragons of dark fire hissed
and spiraled about the thin silver blade as Gabricci pointed it
at Zuru’s heart, jumping from the sword to caress Zuru in their
cold flame and whisper dark secrets of the Twisting Nether into
his shattered mind. “Three is a number of great power, Zuruzuru.
Twice have I wounded your heart, my old friend. You will not walk
away from a third.”

Gabricci sheathed his demon weapon and pulled his dagger from
Zuru’s hand. “Kill….you….” muttered the troll through
bloodstained teeth. The goblin kicked Zuru hard across the jaw,
his blow adding blood and teeth to the refuse of the darkened
alleyway.

“Better than you have tried, little rogue. I still piss on their
graves occasionally to remind their spirits which one of us is
still standing. Stay down like the dog you are, Zuruzuru, until
your master is gone.” With that, Gabricci threw his cloak over
his head and disappeared into the shadows.

Beaten, bloodied and broken, Zuru laughed between shattered
teeth. Surely, his defeat had been sound. Yet freedom had driven
fear’s dark embrace from Zuru’s heart, and he had stared down his
nemesis without thoughts of life or death, only the moment. He
was still weak, but he had grown stronger. And when you live each
second as if it were your last, you learn to take victories, no
matter how small, where you can find them.