Scourgelady (melee offence officer)
Joined: 17 Oct 2007
|Posted: Wed Oct 06, 2010 4:33 am Post subject: A New Directive
|Seja watched without interest as another steam tank trundled along the path she and her companions had won through not an hour past. The crude machine crushed and splintered the jagged icy surface of the glacier under its ponderous wheels, pouring a stream of gravel behind it as it went. Another would be along presently, and then again, each thickening and widening the road Fordring’s army needed to carry themselves and their supplies to Icecrown’s walls. The road itself was still littered with shattered skeletal remains, a weak force and no match for the Ebon Flame.
It had been too easy.
Seja stood up and turned back from the road, climbing slowly up a tumbled heap of ice and rock onto a windswept plateau.. It afforded good views of the road to the fore and rear, and it was here that the Flame had made camp. She made her way quickly through the camp to her tent, looked around briefly, and ducked inside.
“Took your time”
Seja’s sword flashed from its sheath and was pointed into the shadows in a heartbeat. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my tent?”
“Oh come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?” The shadow moved slightly, and slipped its hood back, revealing a pale face. A night elven woman. “You kept me waiting. You know how I hate that.”
“I don’t recall inviting you here.” Seja sheathed her sword and went to light the brazier. Shadows fled at the wan light, and danced around the corners of the tent. “What do you want, and why are you here? The Ebon Blade camp is a mile behind us.”
The night elf stretched out like a cat and yawned exaggeratedly before standing up. She was very tall, and very silent, wearing no armour but preferring black leather - the better to remain unseen. She stalked around the tent for a few moments, poking through Seja’s few possessions, before deigning to answer. “I was bored, and craved company. Your company. Is that so bad?” She picked up a dagger and examined it. “I made this long trip through cold ice and hard rock to pay my little friend a visit and she is not happy to see me. I am so hurt.”
“I don’t have time for your games, Selaphiel.” Seja snatched the dagger away and sheathed it. “You aren’t supposed to be here. State your business and go.”
“You are so boring sometimes.” The night elf sighed and withdrew a sealed scroll before handing it over. “I bring a message from our dear friend Darion. He told me to deliver it to you, personally. It is so nice to have someone who still appreciates my talents.”
Seja took the scroll and examined the wax. It was unbroken. “As long as you didn’t kill anyone to get in here, that’s fine by me. You’ve delivered your message, now go.”
As the other woman slipped out into the gathering darkness, Seja sat down slowly on a camp stool and broke the seal on the scroll. She paused for a few moments before unfurling it, wondering what it might contain. Mograine had a habit of saving the most difficult and dangerous tasks for the humans under his command. Arthas’ betrayal rang most strongly with them, he said. Anger gave them strength to face his forces. The treachery allowed them to see past his deceits. And vengeance … the lust for vengeance would ensure that they would let nothing stand in the way of their goal; to bring him down.
Seja opened the scroll slowly, and read thusly:
“Fordring believes he can challenge Arthas and have the victory. He believes this because he is a fool. At Light’s Hope, it was different. That was hallowed ground, a sacred place. The Light was triumphant there. But a strong light casts a deep shadow. Icecrown is a place of dark magic, and evil. Light wanes in its dim halls, and the Shadow grows. But not all shadow serves the Throne. Not all evil answers to the Lich King. And perhaps there lies our hope. We can do that which must be done, that which the pure of heart would never consider. To face the evil of Arthas, we must use his own power against him. For only dark powers can hope to rival him in those cursed halls. I have a task for you, which will require all of your strength, skill and cunning. It will also require your discretion. Not a word of this must reach the Argent Crusade. Meet with me as soon as you are able, and I will tell you what you must do. Suffer well, sister.”
As she fed the letter to the flames, Seja watched the paper blacken and curl, shedding soot and crumbled ash into the red coals. She felt no warmth in her heart, only a dark chill. A chill which had begun to spread. She looked to the walls of her tent and felt the oppressive shadow which loomed beyond sight, in the cold darkness ahead. There would be no Light in the halls of that dread citadel, only ice and chill and a thousand shades of those who had come before, and been consumed. And it was to these dark powers they must turn in their quest for vengeance?
Seja got to her feet wearily and wrapped herself in her sable cloak. The cold air outside whipped around her, tearing at her hair, its icy fingers cutting through wool, leather, silk, skin and flesh, right to the bone. Snowflakes spun and danced through the darkness of the camp, obscuring the blazing torches which flickered and guttered against the onslaught. Night had fallen. Seja looked around at the shadows and nodded.
“I am ready. Take me to him.”
The shadows fell in behind her as she strode from the camp. The summons must be answered.