Grim Views

Qabian smiled a grim, satisfied smile as he hefted the SGM-3 missile launcher down off his shoulder, still smoking from firing the last missile.  He brushed his hair back out of his eyes as he stood straight again, and his smile shifted to one of recognition and... something else, though his lips still had a grim twist to them as he turned to see Nymare step towards him through the smoke of the Skybreaker Fighter wreckage she had brought down just behind him, the screams of its tiny pilot gurgling into silence while flames licked at the broken machine.

She returned his smirk as they turned as one and a barrage of bullets and arcane magic shredded a Scourge who had been busy converting fallen spirits made the mistake of noticing their presence on the field.

Qabian dusted off his hands.  "All in a day's work."

Nymare laughed and took one of his hands in hers.  "Plans?"

He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead.  "Make them pay -- ah..."  He glanced around at the field of ghosts.  They had done most of the tasks they wanted urgently out of the way, and as entertaining as hunting down Alliance for the Sky-Reaver could be, the Argent and their damn armistice had made that more difficult than it needed to be recently.  "There is something..."

"Hmm?"

"That melted device?  From the whelp I left in Blackrock?"

"Mmhmm?"

His grin grew wider and his eyes flashed something wicked.  "I've been making more progress than I could have hoped for, and... I want to show you.  At home."

She raised an eyebrow, those ever-questioning eyes of hers narrowing on him as her head tilted slightly to one side in thought. "All right..."

"Excellent." He lifted his free hand and began the magic for a portal.

---

The main library in the manor had been converted into a makeshift laboratory.  A glowing blue runic symbol took up a large portion of the center of the floor, a large contraption looking almost like a twisted hangman's gallows to one side of it.   Nymare observed the mess of the place as she entered behind Qabian, books scattered everywhere along with strange glowing or crystalline or floating devices. 

"The library?" she asked with a barely concealed hint of dismay. "But the cellar..."  The cellar, which housed a great many things in it, also doubled as its own laboratory from time to time and there was nothing in there she would miss if it were accidentally lost or destroyed.  But the library... Nymare looked around as if someone had kicked over her sandcastle.

He shrugged as he moved with a certain quick excitement about the room, shifting books around as though looking for something.  "I didn't want to have to move the books to another room, and there was a great deal of calculation involved."  He went to the largest table off to one side of the symbol on the floor.  "Aha!"  He picked up a transparent crystal object, small enough to fit in one's hand, at the center of which floated a tiny molten lump of something.  He muttered a few words and a white spark moved from the top to the bottom of the crystal.  A blue whelpling with a rather large hole in the side of its head in place of an eye shimmered into existence in front of him.

She blinked at him as she moved to take a seat on a strange floating stool in front of the large table.  "What is it?"

He smiled.  "It's an image.  Not unlike the mirror idiots I can convince to cast frostbolts, but this is less... active, unable to interact with its environment, but thus more stable in its duration.  It is only a recording, an illusion.  I've managed to extract some of the data left in the device.  This is how it manifests."

"And...?"

"And I've figured it out," he said in hushed, excited tones.

"Figured what out?"

"How to get this place off the ground."

"You... what?"

He laughed out loud.  "A stroke of unexpected brilliance, really.  Well, perhaps not so unexpected, but it was a long shot that paid off, sending that whelp into the Lair.  They did use it.  They did extract essence from it, and I've been able to observe how it was done.  I had originally intended to watch more directly, but the experiences did actually imprint on what remained, what we were able to find.  I'll show you..." 

He whispered a few more words and the whelp began to shift and move about.  It did not move far from the place it first came into view, and instead, dimly translucent replica of various locations and figures from Blackwing Lair moved around it, shifting through the library, trailing reflections behind them, playing parts in a silent play being reviewed at high speed.  Nymare's expression melted from confusion to awe as it all started to make sense to her.  Qabian watched the process with a certain excited familiarity, pointing out various objects and motions the illusions enacted on the more solid appearance of the infant dragon whelp.  Occasionally, the illusions would flicker out of existence and then take up the drama again at a different setting, the gaps in the data caused by the damage to the device.  The pain the tiny blue protagonist experienced was clear, and unlike the translucent whelps of other colors that occasionally passed through the scenery, the damaged blue had a curious mind of its own.  The play ended with the whelp's escape from its captors and ultimate end at the top of the Spire, where Qabian had managed to find and retrieve the device.

"They did all of this in order to combine their corrupted whelplings into Nefarian's chromatics," he explained.  "But I am going to use it to distill enough magic to lift this whole building right out of Eversong."

"But why?  Why go through the dragons, I mean... The academies in Eversong, Dalaran itself, the Scourge necropoli - they all float through other means, don't they?"

Rather than be offended at any perceived doubt, Qabian lifted his gaze from the whelpling image to her face and practically beamed at her.  "One of the thousands of reasons why I love you.  Mmm, ask me more questions."  He dropped the crystal on the table.  The whelp followed it, but didn't disappear, and remained staring at the device.  He went to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  "All of those were accomplished with the power of collectives, multiple mages combining their powers together, and with rather large sources to work with, the Sunwell, Dalaran's collection of artifacts, perhaps their connection to the Guardians, the Scourge has a great deal of power, the throne, Arthas.  I can't or at least I won't go through any of those means.  This is to be for... us alone.  I want a way to do this without outside help, without the need for a collective.  And I think... I have found just that."

Nymare looked somewhat skeptical as she glanced at him over her shoulder.  "Why?"

He grinned as he whispered into her ear.  "Because I can."  He ran his hands down her arms.  "And because it gives us a place that no one else can touch until the world itself is destroyed.  There are just too many advantages.  No Alliance crawling through Eversong.  No need to hide anything.  No interruptions.  What I want to move is not as big as an entire city, not even as extensive as the academy platforms, although considerably more unwieldy.  Still, it shouldn't need quite that same degree of magic as any of the other floating edifices.  Also, those other places are able to do so continuously through their own magic.  What I believe I am going to do is going to need... perpetual fueling."

"And what exactly do you need?"

"Dalaran and dragons," he replied simply.

---

A hand unexpectedly gripped Qabian's upper arm as he dashed down the steps from the Violet Citadel, pulling him to one side out of the street with a vicious "Shh!"  Qabian instinctively dropped the books he was carrying and raised his opposite hand to blast the offender, but the sanctuary magic of Dalaran prevented him from following through on the threat.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Amberlight?" the stranger hissed.

Qabian glared at the elf.  He was dressed in a Silver Covenant uniform.  The stranger's eyes flashed blue.  "What I am doing," Qabian snarled, shoving the other up against the Citadel wall, "is no business of the Covenant."  Qabian spat on the ground.

The stranger sighed.  "Can we --"  He glanced around uneasily, and gestured with his head in the direction further down the alley between the Citadel and the Enclave.  "Can we at least talk like civil people?  This is Dalaran. Not Silvermoon."

Qabian eyed the stranger up and down disapprovingly with an expression of absolute disgust.  "No."

The quel'dorei gripped Qabian's arm again.  "You're under the impression you have a choice."

Qabian narrowed his eyes, then let his disgusted expression shift into a twisted grin as he moved down the alley, seeming to acquiesce to the stranger's request, but Qabian's gaze went to the patterns in the grass at his feet as he said,  "I always have a choice."

"Vereesa--"

"Is a whore."

The stranger sputtered, and seemed about to retort, but Qabian interrupted before the other could form a coherent sentence.

"What's your name, quel'dorei?"

"Guardian Mage Calastan."

"Fine.  What do you want?"

Calastan looked uncomfortable.  He seemed to be searching for the right words.  "We've seen the people you've been talking to, know the kinds of questions you've been asking.  We also know who you work for.  If you think we would just stand by while you try to bring Dalaran down --"

Qabian laughed out loud, and slapped the Guardian Mage on the back in a dramatic mockery of the friendly gesture.  "I am doing no such thing," Qabian said, though his grin was in no way reassuring.

Calastan stared at him.  "We also know you've been spending a lot of time in Coldarra, and you haven't been working for the Kirin Tor while there."

Qabian's grin widened.  "Been following me?"

The Guardian Mage shook his head.  "You are a difficult man to follow."

"For good reason.  So what exactly are you implying?  The Grim are in league with the Blue Flight?"  Qabian laughed out loud again.

Calastan open and shut his mouth repeatedly.  He hadn't expected the accused to admit the link so freely, and was too stunned to reply.

Qabian shook his head, smiling with a wistful sarcasm.  "You should go ask Malygos what I've been doing for the Blue.  I'm sure he'll be glad to inform you of exactly what I've done for him."

"The Kirin --" Calastan began.

Qabian spat again.  "No matter what you and your whore of a 'Ranger General' seem to think, the sin'dorei are not just going to leave the Kirin Tor in your forgetful people's hands.  I still have contacts in this city, and where I don't, I can manipulate others to get the answers I need.  I have no intention of bringing Dalaran down.  Yet.  And even if I did, I certainly wouldn't do it alone.  When Dalaran falls to the corruption of the Alliance, you and your following of blind idiots will know exactly how much I had to do with it.  You want to take the message back to your precious Covenant that you've just wasted your time chasing shadows, Guardian Mage?"

"No, but --"

"Good."  Qabian took a quick step to one side, forcing Calastan to shift his own position.  In one swift motion, Qabian slammed his fist into the Guardian Mage's side.  Calastan's eyes flashed bright white then the light in them faded as he slumped forward onto Qabian's shoulder.  Qabian grinned.  "Because you're not going to get the chance.  One of the things I've learned, Guardian Mage, is just where I need to stand," he motioned to the patterns on the grass, "to be able to do this."  Qabian twisted his arm against the other's side with the sound of ice cracking.  Calastan grunted and blood flowed over his lips.  "You quel'dorei should really learn to stop being so trusting."  Qabian laughed and pushed the Guardian Mage's twitching body onto the ground, blood and water mixing on the grass as a sharp javelin of white ice protruding from Calastan's ribs began to melt.  The Grim mage brought his bloodied hand to his chin thoughtfully.  "Questioning is one thing, but to try and do it alone?  Foolish.  And by the time they find you, or me, it will be too late."

Qabian walked calmly back to the street, completely unconcerned about the blood on his hands and robes.  If anyone noticed, he didn't seem to care.  He had enough to do without more of these interruptions.  He summoned a Kirin Tor Familiar to pick up the books he had dropped and moved back into the alley where he summoned a portal, leaving behind only a pool of diluted blood as evidence of the confrontation.

---

Nymare turned the corner from the cellar into a large, dimly yellow lit, windowless room, the glowing rune from the library had been recreated at the bottom of a wide, empty basin carved of stone, and violet white light from it illuminated her over the small swirling flame she had conjured in her palm to light her way down as she entered.  "Qabian?"

He smiled at her from across the basin, the edge of which was strewn with books, some open, some closed, his face looking up from the increasingly convoluted gallows-like device, having apparently grown several crystalline extensions in various colors.  Something like a gem cutter's eyepiece with its own light source was strapped across one side of his face.  Rather than his usual robes, he wore a tunic and trousers with both sleeves and leggings rolled up.  A strange patina of glowing purple dust covered his clothes and smudged his face and neck.

"What happened to the would-be pool?" she asked with a grin and then feigned an overly dramatic sigh as she let the flame disperse. "You just keep ruining my things, don't you.  Really, there's not going to be anything left to move if you keep this up."

He motioned with one hand to a small stack of boxes in a corner of the large room.  A few pieces of different gold and red tiles leaned up against the boxes, and on top of the stack was what appeared to be a runic mana potion bottle, but its contents glowed gold rather than blue.  "Yet another small delay."

Nymare smirked and leaned up against the wall, dressed not too unlike him, having done similar work elsewhere.  In fact, the shirt was more than likely his.  "Have you eaten today?"

Qabian glanced around the room, then blinked at her.  "What time is it?"

"Nearly midnight."

"Ah... no.  Not since noon."

"Time for a break."

Qabian laughed and pulled the lens from his face, tossing it onto the stack of boxes.  He wiped the dust from his face and arms with a cloth hanging off the device.  "Sounds like a plan.  How are the runes outside?"

"Almost done."

Qabian tossed the rag aside and wrung his hands together dramatically.  "Excellent.  And the drakes?"

"Confused.  At least the ones that lived."

He laughed again.  "Mmm, I love you."

"I know."  She smiled and held out her hand, and in a blink he had crossed the room and taken her hand in his.

"The Silver Covenant think I've been acting suspicious lately," he began.

She stared at him a moment as they moved back through the cellar and then laughed quietly, as if it were something new.  "Have you?"

"Probably.  But they think I'm going to try to bring down Dalaran."

"Are you?"

He smirked.  "Not yet."

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing.  Not that it would matter.  The dead aren't very talkative.  At least not when they're lying at the bottom of a cave in a swamp very far from the Scourge."

She grinned a devious grin as she swung their intertwined hands forward and back between them.  "I love you~."

"I know."  He returned the grin.

They emerged from the cellar into the kitchen.  Qabian flicked his wrist and a roaring fire sparked into life in the open oven, lighting the room before the lamps themselves followed suit.  He snapped his finger and the fragrant smell of roasting fish filled the air.  "Tomorrow, we're moving."

"Mmmhmmm," Nymare said, peering into the skillet that had appeared.  "Dragonfin?"

Qabian smirked.  "Think I should tell the Grim?"

"That we're moving?"

"'If you need me, just follow the trail of dead blue drakes.'  Ha!"

"They can live without you for a while."

"Yes.  They can."

---

Grim,

I cannot be reached for the next few days.  Messages can be sent by the usual means and I will retrieve them when I return.

For those of you asking impertinent questions, you should have more than enough to occupy your inquisitive minds administering the Mandate to those who are desperate to understand its meaning.  When further arrangements are made, the Mandate will continue to be the top priority.

Fight well, Grim.  This war is far from over.

Peace through Annihilation,
Qabian Amberlight

(( awesome! ))

Qabian wiped the blood off his hands and stepped back.  Everything was in place, including several new strange crystal machines and devices and a large clear cylinder not unlike those in the Lair that were filled with something strange and red, but this one was empty.  He took a deep breath, steadying himself for the most difficult stage of what was to come.  He glanced once towards the entrance from the cellar, whispering a few words inaudible even to himself, a strange expression on his face, then turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

He picked up the robes he had left folded on the edge of the basin and slipped into them, belting them around himself as he moved to a particular place along the edge of the runed circle.  He tied a band of dark cloth around his forehead just over his eyes.  He stood with his hands to his sides, palms marked and facing in towards the symbols on the floor. 

He slowly moved one palm to face the gallows-seeming apparatus that leaned out oddly precariously over the reptilian bodies in the center of the symbols and closed his eyes as he spoke a series of words. 

Several drakes and whelps had been gathered for the initial action, and even then, magic was never a hundred percent certainty.  Their eyes having been removed in advance, immobilizing them for the blooding was simple enough, as was keeping them silenced from speaking, casting, or directing their thoughts through a line of crystals Qabian himself was careful not to cross.  Some of them still breathed or twitched as their blood seeped onto the stone floor of the pool.  As the young dragons' blood began to touch the symbolic markings and run through them, the soft violet light of the main rune shifted to blindingly bright blue-white that erased most of the features of the room from visibility through the sheer force of the magic as it gathered and enhanced.  The empty cylinder began to fill, but with what, it was impossible to see.

Qabian pulled the band of cloth around his head down over his eyes, adjusting it tightly with the hand that was not still held out towards the strange apparatus.

A sourceless wind began to stir at the bottom of the pit, at first only toying with the hem of his robes as a breeze, but then began to swirl outwards with increasing intensity over several minutes, whipping his hair about his face and shoulders.  Beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead as he moved one rune-marked palm away from the gallows apparatus and towards the rune and bodies on the bottom of the pit, while the other hand moved to face the filling cylinder on the far side.  The mage forced his breathing to remain steady.

A monstrous groan came from far below the ground, a sound that vibrated through the foundations of the building under which the strange ritual was being enacted.  Despite the obvious signs of distress and extreme concentration, a grin played over Qabian's lips.  Suddenly, the room shifted violently, the bloodied blue bodies sliding across the pit away from him and over the runes.  His grin faded as his palms twitched about the room between the devices, the symbols, and the crystals meticulously placed about.  "Here we go," he muttered through gritted teeth as the room lurched again, the sound of the earth itself splitting and tearing beneath becoming deafening.

A phantom tail swished through the powdery snow settled beneath the large conifer that Nymare was lounging under, cloak wrapped tightly around her as she examined the spear by what beams of moonlight shone through the branches.  The blood on it had frozen some time ago.

I wonder if that will make any difference.

She had watched Raelorasz carefully as he pierced his palm and handed the weapon over to her.  There was no magic.  No incantation.  Not even so much as a flinch.  There was nothing to it.  It was simply blood - blood of the Red Dragon Flight, his blood, but still just blood.  This, she could harvest on her own if she wanted to.  There were countless crimson whelps and dragonkin in and around the Grim Batol, as well as more than enough Red at war in the Dragonblight.  So little was needed to bring down a hatchling.

Nymare leaned out from under the overhang of snow-heavy branches and let her eyes drift skyward.  Hatchling.  The things were adolescent, yes, but no whelps - not by a long shot.  But if the blood of the Red could be used for anything truly pertinent on the mature wyrms of the Blue, surely, she reasoned, the Red would not hesitate to use such a weapon against them.  Nymare looked back to the spear, doubtful, and continued to wait.  At last, she saw what she had been waiting for - a large shadow passed over the softly glowing snow, one slightly different from the drakes of Coldarra.  As it passed, she crawled out from under the tree, shook the snow from herself, and then motioned with her other hand for the spirit beast she had taken as a companion to follow her.  The thing stretched and yawned, sparks of electric blue energy rolling down its back like a reflection of the stars above.  Slowly, it stalked after her.

It seemed to sense the hatchling flying above just before Nymare did.  Breaking from its shadows, the beast let loose an ethereal roar and tore through the snow off toward the North with Nymare following close behind, readying the spear.  Stopping to aim, she sighed at just how much like a troll this made her feel, and then chucked the spear out into the darkness.  The hatchling gave a shrill cry and immediately circled around to charge back at her.  The words she whispered were soft and quick.  An almost imperceptible scattering of runes magically flared across the ground directly before her and then disappeared entirely until the hatchling soared over them, springing the trap.  Instantly, it was caught in a block of ice, helpless to do anything as the blood from the spear melted in the warm flesh and began to run its course.  Seemingly disappointed, the spirit beast paced back and forth behind the trapped Blue and then retreated back into the shadows as it returned to its mistress' side.  Her eyes came to that of the imprisoned drake's, waiting to see something go dim as the last of the blood took effect, but instead it was looking back at her, far from lost in some mindless horror.  And then something else happened which she was not expecting.

The trap melted prematurely.

The hatchling floundered to the side and collapsed to the ground in one moment, then picked itself up in the next... as an elf.  Nymare could see far more clearly now that there was a distinct lack of a spear, though the chain had somehow managed to wrap around his neck.

"You're..." Nymare gasped in wonderment as the thing looked at her, and then took a step back from it.

The elf responded with a raspy hiss as it stumbled around on two legs, coughed, and found a voice.

"You missed," it hoarsely informed her and drew its robes more securely around itself.  It looked back at her with a sinister grin, eyes glowing blue like so many others, like Haleh's in Mazthoril.  Unlike Haleh, however, blue runes glimmered down its cheek and on the backs of its hands - the things which Raelorasz was so adamant about researching... adamant enough to kill for.  The elf's hands reached up, testing the chain around its neck, something Nymare had forgotten she was still holding onto.  A shock of ice spiked down the chain from his fingertips, freezing Nymare's hands to it, and the elf tugged at the binding, bringing Nymare to her knees.  Another spell began to pulse forward from the elf, but was stopped short by the roar behind him and then the claws tearing down his back.  A frozen mist blasted forth from his mouth as he turned to face the cat, knocking it away.  Quickly on her feet again, Nymare rushed forward, a boot planting into the elf's torn back to knock him forward even as she yanked the frozen chain back toward her.

His head snapped back, eyes and mouth opened wide in outraged silence broken only by what rasps of breath managed to force their way from his constricted airway.  Fingers clawed desperately at the chain before it slumped heavily to one side in the snow, writhing.

Nymare's hold loosened as a loud scattering of static surged through her mind.

Qabian?

It had come and gone since they had parted a few days ago.  She assumed it was him and had something to do with what all was involved in accomplishing his goal, but she had heard nothing from him.  She hated it, not hearing his voice, not knowing if everything was going according to plan.  The static was distracting, but still its own sort of comfort.

And then, suddenly, it was gone entirely.  The silence that filled her thoughts was as cold and empty as the air around her.

The chain in her hands started to slither slowly from her grasp, the chill metallic clinking of links snapping her attention back to the dragon elf on the ground before her. It had rolled around to one side and managed to push itself back up to sitting.  It stared back at her, drinking in the precious air that had been returned to it.  Though something had changed in the Sin'Dorei before him, letting the chain drop from her hands in favor of drawing her gun, he could feel the spirit beast pacing behind him.  He remained still, waiting for her to make her next move.

"Change back," Nymare demanded quietly, fighting off the confusion and panic slowly building at the silence.  To this, he only laughed.

"You fucking Elves..." it sneered back at her. "You gave them something they never should have had, and you wonder, now, why it all has to end, why it was torn away from you as it will be torn from all.  You cannot stop us.  Do you really think you can get away with killing a dragon and not pay a price?  For each one of us you kill, your precious reality shifts... breaks... We are tied to it in ways you could never begin to understand."  Smirking back at it, Nymare took a step forward, running a thumb across blue lips as she looked down into his glowing eyes.

"I'm not fighting their war for them," she informed it with a comforting coo that managed to work its way through gritted teeth.  "I need you for something else entirely.  Change back, and I will let you live."

"Liar."

She stared down at it briefly before crashing the butt of her gun against his temple with an angry shriek, knocking him violently to the side again.

"You're no good to me like this," she sighed, stepping away from it as large wings flapped heavily overhead and then a large white body gleamed against the moonlight, her albino drake swooping out of the sky to take the dragon elf up in its talons.  Snow burst away from its body on all sides as it lifted back into the air, waiting for its mistress' command.

The elf fought in the larger dragon's claws, all the while his eyes locked on Nymare in defiance.

"Crush him."

Before he could object, the drake lifted higher, closed its talons tightly around the dragon elf's body, breaking it in various places, and then landed with all of its weight against the cold ground.

A familiar voice came over her hearthstone.  "Nymare!  I've done it!  It's in place.  I'll meet you --"  Then it suddenly cut off.