#raethoer

Well, something had clearly not gone as it should’ve, the Arcanist coughed as he took in the dusty- so damn dusty- clearly underground room he had found himself into. This wasn’t where the portal to Dalaran was supposed to go and he would know, he’d used the damned thing quite a few times by now and, besides, he wasn’t given to making mistakes on such simple things.

And this place looked nothing like Dalaran, anyway, he scoffed, nudging what seemed like a very dusty bottle left on top of an equally very dusty table, coughing again as a cloud of the stuff rose around him.

And he wasn’t alone, he realized one heartbeat later, wheeling around towards the stranger, also coughing at the dust, who seemed to have materialized into...wherever this was right after himself.

These creatures.

They were everything that was wrong with the world; or  rather, the mage thought, to be exact, they were what had made the world go wrong in the first place.

Raethor’s  eyes glinted like chips of ice as he spotted his quarry; she might not look much like most of her peers he’d encountered before,but that was not unusual. The blasted Naga, he knew, came in more than one varieties, depending on how the ancient magic had made them.

It didn’t change the fact they were monsters and traitors, in any case.