The Defector

Day Six: Karazahn

Ael was up early, before dawn early. As he led, Adrenas out of the stables, he paid the stable keeper and then was on his way once more. The duo left Bog Paddle and headed for Deadwind Pass. The trip was arduous, Adrenas nearly slipped several times on the decaying cliffs and deteriorating roads that lead through Deadwind Pass. When he arrived in the little town, well the ruins of it. He immediately felt a shiver run down his spine. Was he being watched? Who was out there? Instinctually, the arcane began to gather around him defensively.  If Ael thought his troubles were over when he finally arrived at Kara’s main entrance, he quickly realized that was not the case. He rode up to the main entrance and immediately felt the deep arcane connection of the nexus that sat underneath the crumbling tower. Knowing this was going to be dangerous, the task Alison gave him, he dismounted and let Adrenas go about his own business. The Warhorse was more than capable of defending himself. Ael needed to worry about what he’d find on his way up to the library in the ruined home of the old Guardian. He grabbed his pack, his shield, and his spellblade and then entered the main entrance.

Inside the tower, Ael moved quietly through the courtyard and into the main house. The ghosts he knew were there seemed to be quiet for the time being. He traveled through the grand hall, and into the banquet hall. His luck ran out when he attempted to enter the Master’s Terrace. An arcane construct blocked the path to the upper levels and ultimately the library. There was no way to go around. The Spellblade drew his enchanted blade, the broadsword ignited in golden energy as its master drew it. Ael whispered the spell he needed to cast before this turned into full on combat. His armor lit up with the magical runes embedded in it and the soft translucent golden magic made his armor shine slightly. He strolled forward cautiously and engaged the construct. The fight went as one would have expected. Ael’s enchanted Spellbreaker armor basically nullified the arcane construct’s magical attacks. With the magical properties being negated, the Elven Spellblade only had to deal with the actual impacts of the massive construct’s physical attacks. Within a half of an hour, he emerged. He was battered and bruised but he had vanquished his foe not without great effort. From the menagerie, he ascended the tower and a little while later made it to the Library. 

Inside the library he realized the true difficulty of the task Alison had given him. How was he going to find one book in so many? Aelryndel began searching the closest shelves. No luck. He moved on to the next, then the next, and the next. He searched every bookshelf in the library and couldn’t find the book. It had been hours. But the Squire would not fail the last task his Knight Mentor had given him. Ael began searching the piles of books scattered all over the large room. Another hour or so later, he managed to find the book he was searching for, A Treatise On Time: Volume 1&2, The Year of Southern Tempests. Having retrieved the book, the dutiful Squire stuffed into his pack and then moved to the exit. It was then he heard them. The ghosts, they were coming. Had his taking the book released them? Angered them? He’d be damned if some long dead servants were going to stop him from returning a book belonging to the Royal Library. Ael muttered an incantation, and began the hand gestures associated with forming the spell. As he summoned the Arcane to his hands and began to morph it to his typical holy hybrid power, he felt the power of the nexus pulsating beneath the base of the tower.  What surprised him was the amount of power he felt in his hands as he cast the spell. As the words of the spell began to spill out from the Wizard’s mouth, “Shar Diel dath dor Al’shar.” the golden magic surged with the completion of the spell. And just in time. Ghosts, too numerous to count, began converging on the Aelryndel. The surge of power combined with his own magic caused the explosion of holy arcane fire to blast outward and engulfed the entire library in the holy fire. The Ghosts were subsequently destroyed or just temporarily sent back to where they came from. Ael did not have time to reflect on what just happened. The Library seemed to be burning, and the heat felt real to him. He grabbed a chair and hesitantly smashed one the stained glass windows. Whispering another spell he ran and dove out the window near the top of the tower.  

His spell kicked in as he was plummeting to his death. His rapid descent was slowed completely, almost to a stop. He slowly fell, righting himself so that when he arrived on the ground he’d be standing upright. Within a few moments he was back on the ground, book still in his pack and mission accomplished. So he thought. Outside a trio of humanoids had Adrenas cornered in a dilapidated ruin of a house. There were a few of their bodies on the ground around them, it seems Adrenas had tried to fight them off. Ael acted quickly. “Neph’o Shar Alah!” he shouted as he sprinted towards his steed. Arcane magic flew to his hands and he flung the magic outward in a thin fan-like wave of energy that slowly morphed from the azure of the arcane to the bright gold of holy magic. The wave smashed into the trio as they were turning to see the source of the shout. It threw them back into the walls of the house. Without stopping Ael leapt up on to Adrenas, whistling as he did so the Warhorse would move immediately. As they darted into the ruined town. More of the black garbed humanoids began to pour out of the other houses. They were benign controlled, Ael deduced as every avenue he took through the town seemed to quickly swell with the mysterious brigands. They were funneling him to a specific place. The former Elven Cavalier relented and followed the open streets to the town center. There stood a black robed person. As Ael arrived, the mystery person drew the dark hood back, revealing a half human half elven face, nearly skeletal in appearance. 

“Welcome. Welcome.” he said in an icy voice. Which made Ael narrow his gaze at the thing, before he looked around as all exits were quickly cut off by masses of black garbed skeletons? “A necromancer, how quaint!” Ael said in response, “You are an original...” Aelryndel started. “...With a flair for the theatrics.” The half Elven necromancer smirked and performed a theatrical bow. “I try. Now if you will hand over whatever it is you took from the Library, we’ll be on our way. If you won’t, well let's not find out what happens if you don’t. And don’t bother lying, I heard the ghosts when you stole the book.” Ael’s eyebrows raised curiously, “And what are you? An Opera reject turned self-proclaimed protector of the Guardian’s Library’s virginity?” 

There was no humor in the Necromancer’s response. “Cocky. I can respect that. But do you think that because you survived the climb to the tower’s top you are some kind of accomplished explorer or.. What are you anyway? An upside down broom?” Ael couldn’t help it, that was funny. He laughed out loud at his own expense. “You’re right. That is exactly what I am. Shall I show you what this helm symbolizes?” Ael asked honestly as he pointed to the Cavalier’s helm on his head. As the half Elf deliberated upon his response, Ael reached into his pack and grabbed the extra blank pilgrimage journal he had brought. Using his finger he inscribed a rune on the leather cover and pressed his hand to it. The run was empowered and then faded away completely. 

“You’ve stalled long enough, interloper. The book. Now. Or we kill you.” The necromancer demanded holding his hand out. Ael sighed heavily, “Now that’s just too bad. But alright you drive a hard bargain.” Ael drew the boobytrapped tome and held it up. “You want it? Catch!” Ael tossed the book high into the air and then kicked Adrenas into motion. As they smashed, stomped and cut their way through the mass of undead, Ael called out back towards the necromancer. “Shar Bandu!” The tome in the half Elf’s hand lit up, with the rune on the cover glowing bright golden. “Time to go, boy!” The rider said to the mount. Adreans knew and responded in kind. The two barged through the mass just as Ael’s trap went off. A huge blast  of holy magic disintegrated the necromancer and most of his skeletons around him. The remaining one fell to pieces without their master’s magic. Ael and Adreans shot out onto the road leaving the town and leading out of Deadwind Pass just avoiding the blast. 

Day five: Bulwark Mountains

Early the next morning, Ael set out from camp and headed deeper into the Bulwark Mountains. He tried to stay off the main roads, not wanting to be ambushed by dragons or Orcs. But there was no such luck. As he began his ascent into the mountains he was set upon by a band of Dragonmaw Orcs raiders. Luckily, he heard them before he saw them. The Elven squire declared his intent and when it was met with hostility, he had no choice but to fight. The Former Elven Cavalier was at home atop Adrenas, and his partner was also fond of the fight. Ael spurred his warhorse and lowered the footman’s lance he carried. The skill of the duo made quick work of the inept leader of the band. The lance drove the black skinned Orc to the ground with a bloody wound in its heart. Adrenas also scored a kill crushing one of the smaller Orcs with his bulk and heavy hoofs. The Destrier caved the Orc’s chest into a bloody mess and, for good measure, crushed the Orc’s head as the pair charged through the band. Ael pulled tight on the reins and then whistled loudly. Adrenas responded in kind and turned sharp at a gallop. The expertly trained Warhorse, lined his rider up with a beautiful second charge straight into the remaining Orcs. Tight sinewy horse flesh met Orc flesh once more and both scored another two kills. This time however, the lance got caught in its victim and Ael was forced to leave it. Adrenas stomped hard with his back legs just to be sure he killed his own target. Ael pulled the warhorse around once more, but this time he used two sharp whistles. Adrenas stopped facing the remaining Orcs, ready for a third charge. However, the armored former Knight- now a Squire, dismounted and drew the sword and shield he carried. 

“Mush’al shari ri,” he said aloud, activating the runes on his armor. His plated chest began to glow with a faint golden hue, as a golden rune could be seen on his chest glowing softly behind the tabard. He strolled forward towards the remaining two raiders, his menacing presence intensified by the glowing weapon he carried. “”Man’ar shar Thera,” he spoke once more and both weapon and shield flashed brightly as golden runes activated on both of them as well. With a flash of golden energy he charged them. They roared in response and likewise charged. The fight was over in moments. Both Orcs lie dead at the Spellblade’s feet, one in pieces from an explosive spell, the other with its head missing completely. With a solemn but determined expression, Ael put the wounded ones left to the sword, then fetched his lance. Within another few moments he was loaded up and a top Adrenas. Both horse and rider began their journey once more. 

By late morning, Ael had found the convergence in the mountains and performed the ritual needed to bind the runic pattern. As luck would have it, he made good time traveling out of the mountains and back into Loch Modan. Making a stop in Thelsamar as he did before, he resupplied and then rode onward. His next stop would be Bog Paddle in the Swamp of Sorrows. A waypoint for him on the last leg of his journey to Karazahn. Ael rode hard, pushing Adrenas to the limit of his speed. They rode the entire day and the night, arriving in Bog Paddle around midnight. Deciding to stay there for the rest of the night, Ael boarded Adrenas and slept in the stable with his horse. 

Day Four: The Valley of Kings

In order to save some time setting up and taking down camp, Ael decided to ride through the night after he left Firewatch Ridge. It was a full moon, so there would be plenty of light for it. They rode through Searing Gorge overnight, then arrived in Loch Modan early the next morning. Ael passed through the large gate and into the lush green valley. He and Adrenas rode forward moving closer to the massive gate guarded by the two Dwarven kings of stone. He stopped just outside the massive statued gate and dismounted. Peering up to the monuments dedicated to two of the Dwarf kings memorialized after the War of Three Hammers, Ael was awestruck at the sheer size of them. A conflict he was only a baby for, The War of the Three Hammers, he only learned about far later in life. He stood by peering up at the expertly crafted kings of stone. Having ridden all night, Ael took a break and sat down in the shade of a nearby tree with a great vantage point of the gigantic Dwarven marvel. He let Adrenas wander to the stream and graze there. While the warhorse grazed, Ael spent some time in reflection. He pulled out the book Alison had given him and began to read the story of the War. When done, he drew his Pilgrimage journal and the pencil and began to write his thoughts. 

“What wisdom could these two kings have for a Stormwindian knight? I never knew them personally, but I do know their kinsmen. I served with Bronzebeards in many battles, and I fought against Wildhammers during the Hour of Twilight. The Gryphon riders of the Wildhammer clan were still as fearsome as they sounded in the history books. Now, they are both allies, the Dark Irons are also allies and the Three clans are united once more. Dwarves have always been fierce, resourceful, resilient, and proud warriors, to think that their history is ripe with such hostility and hatred of each other. It’s almost impossible to think they could settle their differences to come to such a place. I think both these kings would be proud of the work their kin have done. In this history, I understand the act of leaving a legacy. What wisdom will I leave behind for my sons? What faults will they learn from their father? Will I be thought of fondly by them when I am gone, as Madoran and Khardros were thought of by their sons. Will the story of my life serve as an inspiration to them? What qualities do I have for my sons to immortalize? Loyalty? I betrayed my oath to the Blood Knights, I betrayed the remnants of my own kin when I defected. Will they know the pain it caused me to do the things I’ve done? Compassion? Will they judge me for the lives I’ve taken in cold blood? Even if the cause I took them for was just? Will the sacrifices I made to make a better life for them, even before they were a thought to me and their mother, be enough to balance their judgement in my favor? I can only hope, looking up at these two warrior kings, that my own sons will understand what I’ve done and why I did what I thought I had to do.” 

Day Three: First Leyline Convergence. 

The next morning, Ael rose at dawn. He made his morning coffee, stuffed a piece of dried fruit in his mouth, and then began packing up his camp. Within an hour he and Adrenas were moving away from the massive stone monument and heading into Blackrock Mountain. Luckily, it was early enough in the morning they weren’t beset upon by any of the many dangerous foes that inhabit these lands. By noon time, the pair had made their way through the Mountain. At which point, Ael veered off the road, and headed Northwest into the mountains and toward Firewatch Ridge. As Ael rode, he closed his eyes, concentrating and letting Adrenas lead them. Azure tendrils of Arcane magic, barely visible to the untrained eye, began reaching out and finding the leylines beneath him. He used the leylines as guide to find the convergence, and the new runic pattern he was looking to attune to. A short ride later, he had found it. Adrenas came to a stop and Ael dismounted. 

Ael opened his eyes and strolled to the location, still being guided by his magic and the leylines beneath him. It guided him to the intersection, and he stopped examining the location. Feeling he was safe from threats, because this would take a lot of concentration. He began an elaborate gesture with both of his hands. Forming a ritual circle of azure magic around and centered on the intersection. He knelt down and using his fingers began to write in the outer ring of the circle the incantation he needed to isolate and attune to the runic pattern formed at this specific convergence. “Dorini dor talah aman’ni nor turus ni ash shano.” Ael spoke the incantation as he drew it in the circle. When he was finished he pressed his hand on the ring. It lit up bright blue, radiant and pulsating with the resonant throbbing of the two leylines intersecting below. Arcane energy lashed out as the incantation began to capture and lock the pattern. Tendrils of raw magic erupted in direct conflict of the Wizard’s spell. Ael was struck, his enchanted armor lessening the blows significantly, but it still hurt. He powered through the assault, remaining focused, as the raw untamed arcane magic, continued to beat me over and over. He felt his resolve waning as the assualt raged on; and then all at once, after particularly painful beating it stopped altogether. His spell had fought to capture the power within the convergence and succeeded.  After a few more seconds the blue surge of magic dimmed and raw magic dissipated, leaving only the clear blue lines of the ritual circle and the captured image of the runic pattern. Ael removed his hand, stood up, and studied the pattern as he nursed the wounds he felt beneath his armor, rubbing them with little effect through the enchanted heavy plate. Once he committed the pattern to memory, he took the added precaution and traced the runic pattern into his Pilgrimage journal. 

Ael’s Pilgrimage Day Two: Lothar’s Monument

The next morning, Ael was up before dawn. Camp was broken down save for his coffee pot sitting on the fire, and his tin cup resting nearby. By the time the sun was rising, he had finished his coffee and was climbing into Adrenas’ saddle. The elven Squire, spurred his faithful Destrier back on to the road and towards Lakeshire. 

Within an hour or two he arrived in Redridge, was given permission to cross at the checkpoint,  and then continued on towards Lakeshire. Before he arrived though, Ael delivered a parcel and letter to Mrs. Williams. The mother of one of the newest Recruits in the Regiment. After meeting Kait’s mother and making the delivery, Ael continued on his journey. He stopped in town,at Lakeshire, procured some supplies, and then headed back out. The roads were surprisingly clear for early afternoon and he was able to cover a lot of ground in little time. 

By the early evening he and Adrenas were entering the Burning Steppes. And by dinnertime, Ael arrived at the Lothar Monument Site. He set up camp near the base of the giant stone statue. And then moved to the information plate on the statue. After reading it, he looked up at the massive statue and stared for a few long moments. Ael placed a hand on the base of the statue and closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time before he opened his reddened eyes and peered up at the General one last time. Before he returned to his camp, Ael knelt down and using his hands dug a shallow hole at the base of the statue. He reached into his tabard and retrieved a small Elwynn tree seed, given to him by Alison. He reverently placed the seed in the hole and buried it with dirt.

Rising slowly after patting the loose dirt over the seedling, Ael turned and made his way back to his camp. There he sat down by his fire with his coffee pot brewing atop it and relaxed. Reaching for his Pilgrimage diary, he retrieved the stack of parchments and the pencil. He then leaned back against a stone and began to record his thoughts in reflection. 

Ael’s Pilgrimage Day 1: Stone Cairn Lake. 

Ael had made good time after leaving the Valley of Heroes in Stormwind. Adrenas, his jet black Destrier, was also in good spirits as the duo took off from the capital and headed towards Goldshire then on towards Redridge. With Alison’s letter and her parcel in tow, Ael pushed Adrenas faster, letting the Warhorse work out it’s extended stay in the stables. Within a several hours of traveling both Squire and horse arrived at the Stone Cairn Lake site. Ael figured he only had a couple of hours of daylight left, so he set up camp on the lakeshore and left Adrenas to guard. Stripping down to his underwear, Ael jumped into the water and swam the short distance to the island in the center of the lake. He was careful to avoid the Murlocs and made his way to the circular formation of stones. As he approached the monument, he centered his mind and prepared himself for meditation. At the base of the memorial, he dropped to a knee and closed his eyes, placing the thornless rose before it with a reverent expression. He was not a part of this Kingdom’s plight at the hands of the Orcs, during the first war, but he was part of the Second. He felt the weight of the loss of so many people at the hands of an unknown enemy as deeply as someone in his unique position might have. He reached out and placed a hand on the memorial stone. Closing his eyes once more. He stayed this way for some time, silently reflecting on the meaning of the sacrifices these countless names embedded on the stone had made. 

As per Alison’s request, Ael transcribed the Memorial’s inscription: “This monument is dedicated to all those who have fallen in the protection of Stormwind. Our people have weathered unbelievable hardships to retain their freedoms and to control their own destinies. It is here we remember every sacrifice our citizens have made during the first war that riddled our people.”

As the sun began to dip below the treetops in its descent, he finally arose from his mediation. The Elf blinked a few times to adjust his vision and then reverently stepped backwards, moving away from the stones solemnly. He turned and headed to his camp. Swimming across the lake once more, he arrived at his camp moments later. He stripped off the shorts he was wearing and plopped down next to the fire. Letting the warmth of the fire dry his bare skin, he withdrew his Pilgrimage journal. Really, it was a stack of slips of parchment and a pencil. He sat with his back against a tree and with his naked body stretched out beside the fire. 

“It is astounding to recall the events of the First War. To think of the world at peace, shattered by the arrival of an alien enemy. One that was stronger, bigger, and simply bloodthirsty. When reading the names, the countless names listed on the stone. It’s hard not to find a place to pin the blame. A specific entity to hold at fault for so many deaths. Was Stormwind itself? Being unprepared for a new enemy? Is it King Llane? Is it Medivh? Blame is simply a way for an irrational mind to pass the solution off to someone else. When I think about the First War, the only fault I see is unpreparedness. The argument could be made that an alien invasion force could never have been foreseen.”

[At the Westbrook Garrison]

Around mid-morning the next day, Ael, having recently returned from the Garrison’s smithy, walked out the front gates of the keep and made his way around the Garrison to where the training area was. He was fully armored, now proudly wearing the circlet of the Sarceline instead of his usual skull bucket. The elf carried, what appeared to be a spear-like weapon in his main hand and his large heater shield in the other. On his hip, the standard issue broadsword rested in its leather scabbard. Smelling of the forge, burnt coal and molten metal, his armor and face seemed oddly clean. He approached a target dummy, and squared off with it. His heater shield was raised in the typical stance consistent with being a part of the shield wall, and the odd spear was raised in his other hand, horizontal and parallel to his face, the shaft resting on the top of his shield. There was a moment of quiet focus, a pause as if the Elven soldier was waiting for something. A brown leaf flitted by on a small breeze, passing in front of Ael between the dummy and himself. At the very moment the unsuspecting leaf passed between, there was an explosion of steel, dirt, and a blur of motion, which sent dust and bits of dirt up in a cloud around the Elf and the dummy. With a blinding flash of sunlight on metal and loud thunk, the moment was over. As the dust settled, it revealed the onyx-haired Aelryndel standing there with his shield still poised in a defensive posture, and his left arm extended still gripping the shaft of the spear-like weapon. The bladed tip, which looked more like a dagger or short sword blade, had pierced the brown leaf through the center and pinned to the torso of the dummy, right where the heart would be on a person.  Ael stayed in the position for a moment breathing regularly, before he withdrew the tip of the weapon and in a single fluid motion returned to the starting position.

Ael stood squared off with the dummy again, but then relaxed and stood up straight. He lowered his shield and raised the weapon up examining it in his hand. Setting the butt end of the shaft down in the dirt, the Elven man moved his hand to grip the middle of the smooth, polished metal, weapon. Raising it up he spun it in his hand, slowly at first, then increasing the speed till the weapon rotated in fan-like motion in front of him. The haft and the blade sung as both cut through the air in the rapid motion. This sound continued for a moment before it stopped abruptly. With a tightening grip of his plated hand, the weapon was motionless and horizontal in Ael’s outstretched hand. He examined the weapon again, his trained eyes scrutinizing something about the weapon. He sighed, and turned away, spinning the weapon idly by his side as he walked further away from the dummy. Then, as the weapon’s butt was passing by his foot in its downward spin, the Elf moved his foot and kicked the haft of the spear with the heel of his plated boot, sending the blade spinning in the opposite direction. However, the elf stopped the twirling weapon when it was horizontal once more by his head. Turning as he did, the soldier, threw the weapon in an expert fashion at the dummy. The spear-like weapon dug deep into the target’s torso once more.  Standing there, where he threw from, he studied the weapon. His glowing eyes, once again, scrutinized how the weapon was buried in the dummy.