#ignitheus fireheart

‘Fwoosh!’

The flurry of fire soared in front as a scythe wreathed in fire chinked into leather armor and cut down an assaulting worgen. A Pyromancer bathed within orange flames stooped over the Alliance troop. His skull for a face gave an expressionless stare as the body limped to the side. “For...Greymane…,” it struggled to speak. Daggers falling to the ground. The life slipping out of the creature’s body. Nearby, a Vulpera caravan parked idly as the driver and his navigator mumbled and bickered to each other throughout the assault. Hiding behind a box that had loosened and toppled over. The pyromancer yanked his scythe out of the bloodied corpse with fresh blood dripping from his weapon.

“Ignitheus.”

Shaking his scythe out, Ignitheus sheathed it to his back, and turned to the voice whom called him out. As he searched the area, another body fell to the ground with dagger wounds lodged deep into vital points and the back. A shroud of darkness appeared in front just a few yards away. A figure exposed himself and stepped close. The killer: an elven rogue in black and red leathered attire. Shadowy magics draping around him like another set of armor. His palms rested upon the pommel of his daggers. Ignitheus turned to the rogue. “That should be it, Zan’themos. Are you well?”

“I am fine, brother,” he said. Rolling his shoulders around. “Burn the bodies away. We don’t need any evidence.” Scattered about the desert sands, corpses littered around the area. Some with burns. Others with deep, long cuts and holes. One with a painful-looking dent smack in the chest. Nearby, a priestess of the Light knelt down to the shooken up Vulpera as a drunken monk staggered with their brew. “Right,” he replied, lighting bodies up in flames with each one he passed. “Lets keep this caravan going.” The Vulpera hopped up as their defenders came close. Nodding, they set out to continue the trek.

Ignitheus had been on the caravan defending job ever since Dazar’alor was assaulted. With the death of the Zandalari king, outposts were spread out in Vol’dun and Nazmir to secure the landscapes against the Alliance. No one wanted to take the chance of another organized invasion to cripple the empire even more than it already is. The Vulpera, hearing of the events, continued to offer supplies of support.

Groaning a bit to himself, Igni brought his hands behind his head. The trading route was a long walk with pit stops along the way for places of momentary rest. Fortunately for the party, the sun was beginning to set, which meant a decrease from the scorching heat. The trek was coming to a close. All was relieving… until Ignitheus stopped dead in his tracks.

As the caravan made its way to the designated outpost, Zan’s ears twitched and turned to face his brother. He watched his movements. Studied his fire, which rose with intensity and wavered from side to side in a slow and focused behavior.

Something had caught the pyromancer’s attention.

“What is it Ignitheus?” Zan spoke with concern and curiosity. A hand kept at the ready to his daggers.

Igni didn’t answer him. Neither did he move or acknowledge Zan. As the sky slowly grew darker, a familiar sensation washed over him. A small surge of shadow energy tethered to a familiar source. A soul he once met. A soul he couldn’t so easily forget.

With urgency, he turned his head straight onto an orc grunt standing guard just up ahead and dashed forwards with Zan followed after him. The grunt was taken by surprise from the skully bonfire up in his face. “What directions are the other Horde outposts in Vol’dun,” Ignitheus questioned with urgency. The grunt backed up from the intensive flames. Beads of sweat dripped from his green forehead. “Ack-! Tone down that magic, elf,” the orc growled. The grunt pointed in different directions. “The outposts are far north-west, east, and-- Hey! Where are you going?!” Igni dashed off. “Stay at the caravan, Zan.” “East,” he repeated to himself. That’s where he felt it. Unsheathing his staff, he muttered forth a spiraling fiery portal as he continued to run. From behind, a trail of hoof prints surged forward followed by the sounds of a horse. A dreadstead cloaked, too, in fire. Igni sheathed his staff, hopped on the dreadsteed, and rode towards the dark source.

On the way to the Horde outpost, the faint source of magic would vanish out of his perception range for a few moments, making Ignitheus looking around and reach out to find nothing, only to have it appear again. If it weren’t for Ignitheus being a warlock and his connections of such dark magics, he’d have far a more difficult struggle in tracking it down. The source was on the move continuously. Stepping in and out of sight and carefully covering its tracks. He growled a bit. It was becoming harder to track. If only he had- Then it clicked.

Shuffling a hand into the neck of his robe, Ignitheus pulls out a large purple crystal the size of his palm. Upon removal, it brimmed with dense shadowflame. A deep echoed voice slipped out from it.

???: “What will you have of me now, Ignitheus?” “Ackolyse. Can you sense it too? That void?” Ackolyse went silent for a moment. The crystal brimmed more. "MmMm... Familiar, but I am uncertain. Deeper than they before, perhaps. The same direction. Away from the outpost. It does not deter. Perhaps on its own hunt as we are."

Sand burned away from his horse’s tracks. Ignitheus illuminated more and more. Knowing this, he forces himself to tone down his light to be less noticable. The crystal then surged and Ackolyse ‘pulled’ onto Ignitheus.

“There! Turn there! Yes. Keep going. It’s definitely her. But keep yourself quiet. There’s another unfamiliar source nearby…”

Ignitheus’ dreadsteed would clop through the sands and dunes. Tens of yards closer to the shrouding void.

     A Lesson and a Mission in Scrying                       

     Once near the Elrendar, silks wafted about her wrists as she pointed in the direction of the massive Runestone they had just passed. “We are very close to a ley intersection. Shortly after the Troll Wars, many Runestones were erected at key locations within these woods to ward off other magics. In fact, many believe that the reason we as Sin'dorei enjoy spring weather all year round is because of these very Runestones.”  Her emerald stare lingered on the group who had come to assist her, most of their emotions rising. Their thoughts dwelled entirely on the mission. Some of them had doubt, and those fierce enough in the group expressed it. The whisps of Miss Li-Mei’s well kept bun waltzed with the breeze as she spoke and shifted. “Could it be that this ‘thing’ is using the runestones for it’s own purpose?”

     The priestess’s head craned slightly in thought before she replied. “It might be possible, though I don’t feel it’s probable. These magics, these energies and stones, are monitored by skilled magisters. While I don’t always trust the Magistry, my faith is in their hands. I doubt they would allow any harm like this to befall us without getting involved, or at least warning us. I had thought that this place was a good place to start our endeavors. We leave small imprints of our very soul on each thing we touch. These stones and this land is no different. But unlike us, something so old has many more stories to tell and many more faces it has known.”

     Beneath them, blades of grass swayed and danced in the moonlight’s breeze. When the moment was right, when their anticipation had built, Sybil motioned down to the ground. “Will you all please sit with me? Then, we will begin.”  All six members of the group sat, some with reluctance and others simply went through the motions unsure of what was to come. 

     It was a silly thing, she was sure, to have requested them each to bring a personal item with them. Though, when asked to present their item and lay it in front of their forms, she was surprised that each member had done as requested. Following her own request, the priestess pulled a rusty mirror from her satchel. It had been pronged and once studded with a plethora of gems though most of them had fallen out over time.  As she looked around the group, she noticed all their other items. The Oath Keeper placed a gem inscribed with the letters RR before him, including the silver chain that it was affixed to. The Pyromancer to his left offered a faintly-glowing crystal which shimmered a brilliant crimson even in the evening’s light.  Just after, the fair Huntress carefully fetched an enchanted rose from a small pouch by her side to set it in front of her. To the priestess’s right, the Cryomancer clung to a pair of lovely pearl earnings and placed them on the forest floor. Finally, the Forge Master produced a rather terrible looking twisted hunk of metal that had obviously once been a dagger of some kind. Despite it’s state it had began to rust years ago.

     Contented, the mission began immediately. "We will be focusing on attuning our own senses so that we can properly use them for tonight’s purpose. Try and silence your own thoughts, keep them still.” Almost immediately, the Pyromancer’s flames began to die down to a simple ember. Only the occasional crackle could be heard from dim flames.   Beside him, the Oath Keeper continued to hold his pose, eyes slowly closing as he focused. Across the distance, Sybil witnessed the Forge Master with lovely crimson tresses nodding to herself only to close her eyes for a moment. It took her some time but the smith’s form became relaxed, no sort of emotion painting her visage as she pushed everything else away. The huntress exhaled a hushed sigh and closed her eyes as well as she attempted to stabilize her breathing. The Cryomancer adjusted her position to become more comfortable until she also closed her eyes to sync her breathing with the others. 

     Once all were settled, the priestess smiled knowingly in her realization that everyone had seemed to relax. Feeling comfortable enough to keep going, she spoke softly as not to disturb them. “Now reach out with your mind. Imagine the great fountains of Silvermoon as each of their streams falls silent and still. Imagine the snow in Frostfire as it gathers, cold and smooth, upon the vast plains. Finally, when you are ready, focus on this very land and its magics. Hear the way it sounds to you. Once you have stripped away the surface, all that lingers is what was here before and what will linger after. Listen to it.”

     She had done this many times before. She knew that those who had successfully focused themselves might begin to hear things, though she didn’t know what. Before, she had heard memories of the ancient past. Wars, voices, or even the raw course of energy. With her eyes closed, it was impossible for her to gauge their reactions to know what they heard. It was merely a feeling that commanded her to continue. “Now, focus on your item. The memory it brings you, and how your soul has changed since the time you first received it.L Like you, it has also changed. Think about our mission here, how your own energies will linger here to add to the stories already present. Allow your thoughts to flow to what you seek. It will show you what it is you must know. Open your eyes when you have finally learned to truly listen. Open your eyes and truly see.”

     When comfortable, she opened her own eyes to stare down at her mirror where an image projected itself. She witnessed the image of  an image of an Ancient Amani priest within the surface of the mirror. His flesh was scarred, though his body seemed unfit for combat. Many ornaments and talismans hung from his person and his tusks. In the background, there were four statues. One of them resembled a Lynx, another a Dragonhawk, the third a Bear, and last an Eagle. Affixed to each statue was a shadowy figure bound in chains. The four figures were unrecognizable save for the familiar red and black tabards they wore.  The vision still clear, it appeared as if the Amani Soulbinder went unawares that he was being watched. In his nightly task, the Soulbinder began to pray to each statue before promptly wandering down cavernous hallways lined with mummified corpses. The place was familiar; the Amani Tombs above the Tranquillien Settlement.

     As they opened their eyes, the others saw it too in the object they had brought with them. They had all learned much, and through clarity, garnered important information.