5/28 Afternoon
Getting Moira back to Shadowforge City was no trouble at all; I'd cleared out the apartment, so it could be used as the midpoint for the journey. Emperor Thaurissan had us for dinner again, and I could see that Anduin and Doris were just fine. He'd managed to accidentally seduce his last royal prisoner, so I hadn't been too worried about abuse. Moira told him all about Stormwind and her trip; she wasn't too impressed, but it's not like this was the first time she'd been there.
I didn't bring up my plans; Moira was already aware of my hopes, and would be a much better ambassador than I was. I'd been watching the nearest Horde and Alliance friendly settlements for attack teams and none had materialized, so I assumed that Magni would have been the one to send them. Taking down Ragnaros was firmly on my to-do list, but the Molten Core was not a place I relished going.
It was good that the hard time limit was taken care of, but I'd still have rogues stationed in the city to intervene if there was a commotion, and I'd told Moira that if there was an attempt on her or her husband's life, she could call us and we'd provide what aid we could. Before lunch tomorrow that would have to be just me; blink would let me get from the beacons in her and Kam's rooms in record time.
It was a meal full of pleasantries, very few of which were aimed at me; after all, to Thaurissan I was just a glorified cab driver. Kam had gotten a job and rejoined the workforce, but he had a teleport beacon stashed in his new apartment. I could come and go from the city freely, and it would just get easier once Moira was wearing my team's jersey. I was ready to be out of there about 15 minutes into the 3 hour long event.
••••••••••
Noktog was scouting while the Classics waited at camp. The undead apprentice had directed the girls to where his master had once had his hidden laboratory. Apparently independent necromancers lacked the class necessary to simply work quietly in a civilized town, like warlocks could. First Abercrombie in that Light forsaken shack, and apparently this Helcular fellow had chosen a mountain cave. It hadn't done him much good; he'd still been lynched. Then again, for all Drusilla knew he'd been ratted out by the Cult of the Damned because he wasn't a joiner.
Supposedly he'd gotten quite far in his transformation. He had several wells set up to gather energy, and a magical staff intended to hold all of it. At this point, his body was primed to be reanimated if impaled with the staff. Death was required to complete one's transformation into a lich; in a way, it was the best metric to differentiate between the male necromancers that had sought power and those who just wanted pliant holes to fuck. The lady necromancers had just as many examples of the former, a few of the latter, and made up the difference with those seeking eternal youth and beauty.
Drusilla had looked over the notes, and was fairly sure that the staff could be fully charged if they could just find three of the braziers intact. And the staff, of course. Creating a replacement would be far more inconvenient. Well, "they" wouldn't be finding anything. Noktog had been wearing Drusilla's amulet for several days now, so he could be allowed off the leash.
Phase shift was normally a defensive measure for imps, but it had the effect of making the imp nearly invincible and very difficult to see, on account of only theoretically being present in the first place. Useful traits to have in a scout. The yeti currently occupying the cave might notice him, but they were unlikely to be able to do anything about it. With any luck, Noktog could come back and then lead the team directly to their goals: the staff and at least a few of the intact wells, which should be overflowing by now.
Once they knew their itinerary, they were planning on calling Abby and Eliza, along with the Corpse Party and perhaps Tara. Could the five of them fight their way through a cave of aggressive yeti? Very possibly, but they had the authority to call in backup for a reason, and in all likelihood they would be able to totally replace anyone they lost with the fallen Yeti. An elegant solution; maybe Drusilla would look into necromancy herself? Just the basics, of course, but it may be worth trying.
Noktog returned with good and bad news. He had found everything, but the staff was being held as some kind of symbol of office by the largest wendigo he had seen. Ahh well. It seems they would be getting quite a few new wendigo recruits today.
••••••••••
Lo'Gosh, who was still having trouble accepting the name Gina, followed the compass built into her necklace. She accepted that her real name was Gina intellectually, but she didn't feel like she knew who Gina was. She knew who Lo'Gosh was: a warrior, a killer, a survivor. Gina would hopefully present herself soon; neither she nor Lo'Gosh particularly enjoyed overthinking everything, so that was a start.
Valeera had been great; she hadn't missed a beat. Broll seemed to think it might all be some kind of trick, but Lo'Gosh was sure that it wasn't. Erius knew what he was talking about, and nothing he'd said had felt wrong when she thought about it. She. That felt wrong and right at the same time.
The new way of thinking came very naturally. She was obviously a woman, so she thought of herself as one easily enough in the present sense. Unfortunately, it didn't match her memories. The ones of her as Varian were easy to dismiss; they felt distant, hollow, and fake for the most part. More like a book she read than her own experiences. Some parts still made her feel things; she was pretty sure she must have known the queen somehow, because her death still hurt. But then again, she'd been living in the palace and less than half of the Royal Guards were women, so she'd probably been assigned to protect her sometimes. With a start she was certain that she'd been on duty when she died; the memory of the rock striking Tiffin Wrynn, killing her instantly, was far too crisp to be implanted.
She had unquestionably been a man for the last few months, though. Everything from when Rehgar caught her to the last few days had been seen through masculine eyes. That didn't feel wrong either; she didn't have an aversion. If she were turned back she probably wouldn't mind. Not having an aversion almost annoyed her more; aren't people supposed to care about that kind of thing? She couldn't bring herself to; she just was what she was.
She hadn't lost any strength in the transformation; she'd lost a bit of mass, so she'd be slightly worse off while grappling, but she would have slightly more endurance without having to carry around the extra weight. It was a lateral shift, and it had only taken a few minutes to adapt to the minor differences. She could see why she'd been chosen to turn into Varian; she might be a woman but they had very similar physiques. If her body felt about the same and it wasn't causing her any mental dissonance, why was she so bothered?
Probably because she didn't know anything about herself. She didn't know who Gina Wipple was or what her story was beyond a very dry file full of technical details. It was a whole identity she would need to rebuild from scratch. That seemed like a big task, so it might be better to start with what she had. Lo'Gosh, lord (lady?) of the arena. That's who she was.
That's what she decided as the small band of ogres came into view. "Sorry friend. You caught me on a day where I have a lot to work out." Her blades came out. Time to work.
••••••••••
Talaada was irritated with herself. She was certainly busy, but she somehow hadn't managed to learn much about how to wield the light yet. She was perfectly competent at the core spells; heal, smite, shield, renew, and fortitude, but consistently the more advanced magic eluded her. Of course, if Sally was to be believed (and as a sister in love she was) then Talaada was currently sitting at the level of competence where most priests plateau. Unacceptable. She may not primarily be a combatant, but why be a priest at all if she wasn't going to excel?
She shouldn't feel a surge of smug superiority at Tony's absolutely nonplussed expression watching Sally work; it would be incomparably good for the Brotherhood to have another person capable of recalling the dead. Of course, she shouldn't care whether it's her or someone else who can do that, but she did. Everyone has their own little vices; Talaada wanted to be special, and with the blessings she had been given, she really should be.
She was still better at casting than Lividia, but the prophet's consort was growing in power with fantastic speed. Perhaps that was because she had more than an hour and a half a day set aside for training, but it still hurt to know that someone with no magical enhancements would possibly outstrip her soon.
Well. She had work to do as "Confessor Talaada" today. The Prophet wanted the Scarlet Crusade to be converted to his cause, and the normal interrogator, a new brother by the name James Vishas, would be working with her.
Pain could end at any time with a confession of love, and weakness will be purged from the body in the process. The methods that the Crusaders were using currently were crude, but they did make the new recruits very emotionally vulnerable. These poor abused souls would do anything for a moment of kindness, some food and water, a gentle touch, a word of encouragement. They would love her easily, and through her they would love the prophet. That went for the prisoners as well, who she would send to the Twilight Grove and record as having been executed after redemption. It would work very tidily, and the false prophet Dathrohan didn't need to know a thing, not until he was ready to see the light himself.
As her sister in love used her thorns to ensnare the leaders of this monastery, Talaada and Vishas would start from the bottom, and though she hardly knew it Lividia was intriguing those in the middle. Many wished to become more like her, to know the secret of how she grew in power so quickly. There were only around two thousand crusaders in Tirisfal, half of which lived in the monastery. They were strangely trusting souls, who wanted to be part of something. They wanted guidance, strength, protection, and to know what was right. It would be a pleasure and an honor to be the one to illuminate them.
••••••••••
The assault on the Wailing Caverns was an utter disaster. Emeriss's dream fog was worse than useless, accidentally strengthening the nightmare's hold on the beasts and Druids. As they fell more fully asleep, the poor souls started moving faster, hitting harder, and entirely ignoring their own well-being if they could get in a solid hit. Worse, they were all extensions of the same consciousness now. They looked like separate bodies, but they weren't. It was a single beast with a thousand closed eyes.
Dremuus called the retreat. They absolutely did not have the firepower necessary to deal with this. Lillibeth could cut off the magic of anyone that she could see, but that mostly just put a stop to lightning bolts. With every single druid acting with one mind, they mostly fell back. That confused him at first, but then he started seeing the same beasts attacking them, sustaining injuries, fading back as their companions covered them, and returning moments later fully healed by the Druids that knew exactly how much healing was needed and who wasted no effort on the dying.
They needed to get the hell out of there, but the dragonspawn didn't have their own amulets and the enemy was both faster and knew the caverns better than they did. Noboru had come with his team when things started to go bad, as well as a tall hooded human who smelled of rot. The additional strength certainly helped, but it wasn't enough to make pressing the attack a remotely good idea.
The current plan was to make their way to Magglish's dead end and have Emeriss send out the dragonspawn and beasts first. That would make things difficult, as they were the front line. Noboru, Harnea, the big ogre shaman, and their few remaining demons would need to hold off anyone that their superior firepower couldn't kill. Once the dragonspawn were out, the team that Norin was assembling back at the Twilight Grove would summon all the rest of them out simultaneously.
It went reasonably well, all things considered. They lost three of the dragonspawn and could only retrieve one of the bodies. They hadn't killed a single druid, and maybe one in four of the animals they had felled had died; those ones had gone down in a feral rage, going for the kill right to the end. Hopefully the deep slumber effect would end soon; if not, they had just made this a substantially harder target.