#jairius

Like many times in their long undeath, when they finally ran into each other, it was surrounded by the dead.

Aegnas walked back and forth through the small graveyard outside of Darkshire, running his hand over the name on each headstone. He peered to look at each name after the dirt was dislodged from the stone. He was looking for a particular name, but he had no idea which of the many graveyards in Duskwood held the mage...or whether he was elsewhere entirely. There were also a great many graves outside of Karazhan itself that would have held those important to the sorcerer Medivh...

Jairius didn't bother hiding his approach. Bane's armor and reins jingled, Jairius's armor made a heavy noise as he dismounted, and his heavy footfalls approached Aegnas directly. It was like approaching a spectre of his past. There, looking over tombstones as if it were an afternoon shopping in Stormwind, was the elf who'd pushed him sometimes harder than Instructor Razuvious himself. The one whose body he'd seen crushed and broken at the foot of the citadel amidst the bones of the frostwyrm he'd been riding. The one whose blades Jairius's brother Aradrius now possessed. He reached up to grasp the hilt of his sword, then forced himself to let go. Perhaps Aegnas would be reasonable.

Aegnas's ear twitched and he looked behind him as Jairius grew closer. Then his eyes narrowed. "You know better than to pursue me alone, Jairius, even on the Master's orders. Don't think I won't send you back to him in pieces if you interfere."

In response, Jairius tapped the tabard he wore over his armor, black with a golden tree, the same symbol Aely wore over her armor. "I'm not here on his orders, Aegnas. He's been dead here a long time. The Helm has been destroyed now for years, so I don't even answer to his successor."

Aegnas stopped short at that, looking Jairius over again more closely at that. Unlike the energy he'd felt from a distance from the blades that were unmistakably his but not, the blade Jairius bore was well fed...better even than the one Jairius bore in his own timeline, where living opponents were becoming more and more rare as time went on. The armor was new, ornate, but it accentuated how much wider and more physically powerful the human was than his elven counterpart. There were lines on Jairius's face that didn't exist on the one from his timeline, lines of worry, of stress, that the knight dedicated to Arthas's domination didn't face. Aegnas narrowed his eyes. This was Jairius, but not. "I...see. If you're not here on his order, then whose order are you here on? I know you, Jairius. I can't believe even an alternate version of you would live without serving someone."

"I help protect Duskwood, Aegnas. Among other places. The world is a different place than it was when the Master lost in Northrend. We have no shortage of enemies." Jairius eyed Aegnas carefully. The elf paced back and forth in front of him like a hungry tiger, and Jairius realized that was exactly what he was. Hungry, caged, like a beast. Behaving for now, but barely, as his appetite and boredom grew. "That's something I thought you would have figured out by now."

"Perhaps I did. But with your own people so lost and pathetic, do you expect me to hunt the dregs that they should be feeding from when I don't require such frequent engagements? Besides, I want a meal, not the pathetic things sneaking about here. I want to fight. I want to watch someone fight for their life and think they've won, only to realize their life is spilling out onto the cold ground as the Plague ravages their body."

Jairius looked beyond him to the cluster of graves. "I know you didn't come to a graveyard for that, Aegnas. What are you doing here?"

Aegnas looked over his shoulder at the graves. Each name cleaned off and visible. None of them the correct one. "I'm looking for someone. I need a time rift sealed, and I can't find the dragon who was doing it. I know there were powerful sorcerers around here, attracted to Medivh and his father. I have names from records in the town hall. I just need to find them. And force them to help. I'm not going back, Jairius. Given the choice...I like not being a puppet. It's been a very, very long time since I was alone with my thoughts, without his voice spurring me on in the back off my mind, and I find I love the silence."

Jairius eyed the elf carefully. Aegnas was as serious as he'd ever seen him. And different. Something was... "The Torch has freed your mind, at least for the time being. Is that it?"

"I think so. That's what Sascha said. I should be angry, but I didn't even know that was possible. I suppose I should have been paying better attention when Lord Uther told us all things were possible with the Light." He smirked. Typical of him. He also drew his runeblades and raised them to a ready position. Not defensive, no. Ready to attack, pure offense. Just as he did in that long ago time when they both served the Lich King.

Jairius didn't draw his blade, no matter how much all of his instincts demanded he answer the unspoken challenge. "I suppose we'll find out how genuine you are, then. Know this, Aegnas. If you betray anyone in Duskwood, I will not rest until I rip out your heart. And I think you understand now, based on Duskwood's unique characteristics, just how much I mean that threat."

Aegnas just raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Frostsworn. Do you still go by that name?"

Jairius froze. "...yes. Yes I do."

"And do you mean it? Would you take orders, if they were given genuinely?"

Jairius sighed. "I'm very different, now, Aegnas. But yes. As long as you mean no harm to those under my protection, I will be content to follow your lead. I'm sure Adahlissa will be happy to have you at our hearth."

They were going house to house within the Scarlet holdings in the Plaguelands, killing all inside. Jairius relished the thrill as his runeblade bit into flesh and claimed the soul of his victim. Oathbreaker was feeding well here and he laughed to the sky. It was a slaughter. It was glorious.

In the back of his mind, though, was a warning. Be careful. You don't want to...What? He didn't know. The thought wouldn't come. Like a lot of his past, except for the broad strokes, it was gone. Gone in the pain and the trauma of his capture and how he was pressed into service by the Scourge.

A child fled before him, tripping on the cobblestones slick with blood, and he brought Oathbreaker around to cut off her head. As her head rolled away, her blue eyes stared accusingly at him...oddly like another set of child's eyes. Eyes he barely remembered.

Kill...them...all!

Jairius's blade bit through flesh and he laughed at the thrill of battle. These new death knights were soft things. Eager, but more frail than the initiates that he fought time and again under Instructor Razuvious's keen eye. He knew it was because they were new, they hadn't had the time he'd had to harden under the Instructor's brutal tutelage, but still he relished when one of them had the temerity to challenge him, and he was able to show them how much they still had to learn.

Show it the meaning of terror!

The Lich King's voice echoed in his mind as Jairius descended from Death's Breach down into Havenshire. Bane galloped eagerly into the battle, the undead horse as hungry for bloodshed as his rider. Clutched in his hand was Oathbreaker, the runeblade he'd made of his paladin's hammer when he'd finally seen the truth of the Scourge. Oathbreaker was hungry. The blade wanted blood.

So did Jairius.

Ahead of him, peasants who'd thought themselves safe among the Scarlet Crusade fled before the might of the Scourge. He took Oathbreaker from his back and swung, impaling the hapless fool's body and bringing it up so he could drink eagerly of the spurting blood before it grew still. He shook the body off his blade, heedless of whether Bane trampled the still-warm corpse. Bloody, he turned his face to the sky, laughing. Power flowed through him, more power than he'd ever felt in all his years following the Light.

“Stars! What is that?” Jairius glanced over his shoulder where Lorena Steele sat on her own gryphon. Her presence was becoming habitual, and it was easy to forget she was there. Just as it was easy to forget she’d never seen Kalimdor before.

Jairius’s voice held a strange note, at once coldly furious but also envious. “The ruins of Teldrassil and Darnassus, the night elves’ capital and home. The Banshee Queen ordered it destroyed shortly before we came to Kul Tiras. A lot of very old, very powerful night elves lost their lives there.” He sounded wistful as he looked out towards the smoldering tree. Such waste. If it were up to him, there would be necromancers combing the ruins for usable bodies. Ah well. He nodded at the smoldering village below them. “That, however, was not the Horde’s work. Auberdine was destroyed by Deathwing before he was finally killed. There’s new fighting down there, mostly Forsaken forces.” Jairius sneered, spitting out the name like a curse. “But most of the inhabitants were already gone.”

Lorena nodded slowly. “So, that’s the reason there are so many night elves in Stormwind.”

Jairius nodded. “King Wrynn offered them sanctuary.” He looked back at their encampment. A portal flared to life. Jairius patted Ghostmaw’s neck and said to Lorena, “Come, we need to head back to camp. I’m expecting a visitor with important news from the north.” The frostwyrm turned and headed back toward their camp at a leisurely enough pace that the smaller gryphon could keep up with her. Not, however, slow enough to keep the gryphon from straining. Ghostmaw’s amusement touched Jairius’s mind, and he told her silently, Be good. She’s a fantastic student. I may take her on as a pupil, if I can pry her away from her Kul Tiran bear of a commander.

I simply enjoy reminding that feathered morsel its place, Ghostmaw’s answer wasn’t entirely in words, but it was clear enough for Jairius to translate. Her mind wasn’t entirely intact, thanks to her death and the method of her resurrection, but she was aware enough to enjoy tormenting others on occasion. The conversation was over, though, as they arrived and Ghostmaw landed a respectful distance from the night elves’ bows. While they were aware that Ghostmaw belonged to Jairius, neither elves nor frostwyrm trusted the others’ company. She curled up, watching the night elves and their saber cats warily.

Jairius and Lorena entered the camp on foot. Jairius caught several unfriendly glares tossed his direction, but ignored them. The elves may not like him, may even threaten to remove his head on occasion, but his results against the Horde could not be denied. He said softly to Lorena, “The visitor I’m expecting is a living ally of Acherus, a...former priest who’s dabbled in other magical pursuits since she left Elune’s service.” That was, perhaps, the most diplomatic way he could think of to describe Adahlissa, former necromancer of the Cult of the Damned.

She surprised him, though, with how she was dressed. If Jairius didn’t know better, he might have even thought Adahlissa was there to tend to the wounded of the Darkshore campaign. It didn’t escape his notice that, despite how pious her robes appeared, they were also in the red, blue, and black of Bane’s armor. Jairius’s deathcharger, Bane, stood beside her, nibbling on a carrot he didn’t need and looking content. Adahlissa, a pale-skinned night elf with Cult of the Damned tattoos on her face, smiled at Jairius and tossed the hood of her robe back so she could lean forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Good to see you, too.” Then, she saw Lorena, and her smile turned knowing. “You brought a friend?”

Perhaps a pupil, she’s more talented than she looks, Jairius said silently, knowing that the connection the Lich King maintained, or tried to maintain, with all of his servants, would serve to convey his words to Adahlissa. Her raised eyebrow and slight nod was his only response. Jairius said, out loud, “Lorena Steele, meet Priestess Adahlissa Frostsworn, my wife and a staunch ally of the undead. Adahlissa, Lorena Steele is a recruit in the Kul Tiran guard and has been tasked with watching me and aiding me in work with the Alliance military.”

Adahlissa gave Lorena a friendly nod. “Good to meet you, Lorena. I’ve heard about what’s happening on Kul Tiras. I’ve been trying to get away to lend my aid, but,” the night elf sighed softly. “Duty in the Broken Isles and Northrend has been a bit long and tedious of late.”

Lorena looked a bit overwhelmed, but gave the night elf a shy smile and a nod. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m sure once you can get to Boralus, no one will turn down your help.” The words were said with genuine warmth. Despite her feelings about the Scourge, Lorena was remarkably naive about them and Jairius was taking full advantage to win her loyalty. Despite his firm loyalty to the Scourge, Jairius was a good commander and it showed. Lorena was always surprised that people usually reacted negatively towards him anyway. His reputation was, perhaps, not the best, and the Alliance military commander he worked under was one of the few who saw past the butchery he’d committed in the past and recognized that he could be an asset on the field. The same could not be said of Lorena’s commander in the Kul Tiran Guard, who fought in the Third War against the Scourge and regarded him with the kind of suspicion that made Jairius wonder if they’d crossed blades before.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to get away soon.” Adahlissa gave her a smile and turned to Jairius. “There’s been a new development...”

Jairius nodded and cut her off. “I know. I heard His call while we were on patrol. Foolish Vrykul have infiltrated Icecrown. They dig among old bones for power.”

Lorena squinted at him, trying to figure out what he was saying. There hadn’t been any audible call while they were in the air, and they’d received no messages, either. “What...?”

Adahlissa didn’t give her time to finish her question. “There’s only one punishment for mortals who enter Icecrown.”

Jairius gave a smile of pure pleasure, one that made Lorena pale slightly and step back. “Of course." He turned to Lorena. Perhaps this was an opportunity to test his potential pupil. See just how curious she was about the power he wielded. “You were curious, earlier, about how I fight. Would you like to see? Truly? We must respond to a threat in Icecrown. A lot of dangerous secrets lay buried there. Too many. And they could be more dangerous in foolish hands.”

Lorena looked uncertain. She glanced between him and Adahlissa, then around them at the night elves who were just close enough to eavesdrop but pretending not to notice, anyway. The glares they shot at Jairius and Adahlissa...particularly at Adahlissa, were confusing and made her wonder about who she was dealing with. Was she in danger? A gut feeling she tried not to ignore said yes, yes she was. But then again, she’d seen Jairius in action, seen him leap to the rescue of people in Kul Tiras, seen him treat the people of Drustvar, in particular, with what appeared to be compassion. Surely he was safe? She nodded slowly. “I...yes. Yes, I’ll accompany you. We should make sure they haven’t broken in to anything they shouldn’t. The last thing any of us needs is a new Plague.” She shivered.

Jairius smiled indulgently and nodded. “Tempting as it would be to unleash in the middle of Orgrimmar...yes, you are correct.” He turned to Adahlissa. “Care to do the honors? I would, but my portals tend to have unfortunate side effects on the living.”

“I remember. That was a most uncomfortable weekend, Jai. Once I finished attempting to expel all of my guts, I think I saw Elune a few times. I think Lorena and I would prefer to avoid that.” She turned and cast a quick spell. The portal that appeared showed the icy cliffs of Northrend beyond it. “This should be bit closer to our objective, anyway.”

On the other side of the portal, the wind howled and drove ice like shards of glass into any exposed skin. Lorena hurriedly pulled her heavy fur cloak closer around herself while Adahlissa pulled up the hood of her robes and muttered a spell. Jairius alone seemed unbothered, and he looked out across the heavy saronite reinforced Gate. 

The bones of fallen frostwyrms littered the area. Vrykul worked quickly, using some magic he didn’t recognize to raise them and bind them into service. Jairius squinted, but he couldn’t make out an identifying emblem. They were either desperate or they belonged to the Vrykul band that pledged itself to the Lich King years ago. Either way, their intrusion and theft would be paid for. Jairius could feel his blades crying out for blood, and he gave a soft, impatient growl. “Stay back here with Adahlissa. Guard her and cut down any who try to escape past you. This is the only way out. This is a Gate of Icecrown Citadel, and on the other side of this walkway, they will find only death.” Carried away by the promise of bloodshed, he seemed almost unaware of his own words, or else they weren’t entirely his own. Lorena couldn’t tell for sure, but she swore she almost heard another, deeper, stranger voice echoing those words. It made her blood run cold, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Jairius raised his twin runeblades to the sky and cried out. It was a spell, and dark energy flowed from him, no...flowed through him, towards the frostwyrms the Vrykul were trying to raise. Fetid flesh thawed, bones stirred, and all at once, Vrykul started shouting and running for weapons. A frostwyrm lifted its head to watch them with empty sockets, before bright blue flames lit deep inside them. 

Jairius took full advantage of the confusion. He ran forward, killing a guard before the Vrykul could register where the most immediate danger was. He called out, “Death to the living!” The answer was a chorus of growls as the frostwyrms lashed out at Vrykul. Jairius spun, hacking and slashing at any who tried to evade the undead dragons.

When the last Vrykul fell, Jairius turned back to Adahlissa and Lorena, licking cooling blood from his lips. Unlike some of his other battles in Kul Tiras, he seemed like he’d almost bathed in the stuff. He gave them a pleased smile. “One less band of idiots to deal with. Stars, but I love it when they give me a good fight.” The frostwyrms, six in total, finished their deadly work and Jairius called out over his shoulder, “Protect the Master’s Citadel. You know where to go. Except for you.” He pointed to one in particular, one larger than the others. “Stay.” 

Jairius knelt, channeling more power than before, and again when he spoke the spell, Lorena had the sense that the words weren’t his, that there was another, deeper, more terrifying voice speaking the spell instead. Shadow arced from him, engulfing the fallen bodies of the Vrykul, who began slowly to lift their heads and push themselves to their feet. 

Lorena gasped softly. Even in death, they wouldn’t be spared. She looked away, conflicted. On one hand, she knew that’s what the Scourge did and they could have inflicted this on more than just themselves if they’d succeeded. On the other...having grown up around the superstitious Kul Tirans, she couldn’t help but think that this was wrong. She caught Adahlissa watching her and put on a brave face, turning back to watch the undead shamble across the Gate, where the shadow of a huge, undead giant lurked. A giant. Dear Light. Did anyone know? The Scourge didn’t seem as defeated as she’d been told. It seemed more like they were waiting.

But for what?

Jairius returned, giving them a fierce grin. “That felt good. Stars, I haven’t been able to do that in years. Adah, love, if you’ll be so kind, I have a new friend to drop off at Acherus. They’ve been needing air support, and, well...” He nodded at the larger frostwyrm. “I think he should do nicely, don’t you?”

Adahlissa nodded. “I think so. Give me a moment to prepare. A dragon-sized portal is no easy task.” She glanced meaningfully at Lorena. “When that’s done, I’ll make a portal back to Darkshore for you. I’m sure you need to get back to your duties.” 

Jairius bowed. “Ever thoughtful. Thank you, love, but I think Boralus Harbor would be better. We were about to leave Darkshore anyway” He grinned at Lorena. “Come on, I think we both deserve a drink and a hot bath.”

“Could you...you know...” The young woman, who he now knew was a recruit in the Guard named Lorena Steele, gestured at the corpse whose face he was studying closely. “Raise him?”

Curious. Intelligent. A natural leader. She would make a good recruit. A pity it would alienate their potential allies. Perhaps. He would keep his eyes open. He said carefully, “Most definitely, before Brother Pike released their souls in his ritual. Now? Hmm.” He checked the corpse’s blank, staring eyes. “The flesh could be useful for other things, but it’s beyond my skill to animate.”

“Good.” She seemed to realize how that sounded, and hastened to add, “Not that I don’t appreciate you or anything, but, well...I guess there’s a lot worse things out there. Like abominations.” 

Whispering tugged at the corners of his mind, and Jairius let the corpse go so he could turn and stare out at the sea. “There are worse abominations than those stitched together of flesh and bone.” He shivered, and not from the ice that clung to his armor and the ground around him like a shroud. In a quiet voice, he chanted, “In the sunken city of Ny’alotha, the drowned god lays dreaming.”

Lorena frowned at him and moved closer. “That sounds like the ramblings of the tidesages we’ve been fighting. Are you alright?”

He waved her off. “Fine, fine. It’s something I heard, years ago in Northrend. We made armor of an old god’s blood, and the old god’s whispers would torment the unwary. His servants waited in the dark to devour the foolish, but they hungered for us all. Even more than the Scourge itself hungered.” More than he hungered now. And his hunger was growing stronger. The skirmish with the Horde earlier had only whetted his appetite. He looked back at her, and the look was one that stated clearly that there was no one to plead for mercy from.

Her hand fell to her sword, but to her credit, she didn’t flinch. “It sounds like a terrifying existence.”

“Duke Frostsworn, please, just...it would be better if you would wear a uniform.” A harried-looking junior officer tried unsuccessfully to look unintimidated by Jairius.

Jairius just raised an eyebrow at him. “And why is that?”

He visibly gulped. “W...well, you’re upsetting some of the locals. The Third War wasn’t that long ago, you see, and they think you’re...”

Jairius cut him off with a derisive snort. “A new tabard is hardly going to convince them otherwise, is it?”

“Still. If you’re going to remain here, I would prefer it if you did make more of an effort to blend in.” An older officer walked up behind Jairius, clapping him on the shoulder. Jairius suppressed the automatic growl that action inspired. “Come on, they made lunch for us down at the inn.”

“Joy. What is it this time?" Jairius rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll be there momentarily. Inwardly, he growled, The longer I spend among these people, the more tempted I am to slip a plague into their water supply.