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General Guides WTB l33t Abr Exp plz! Have no idea what that means? In here you'll find all sorts of 'information' guides - from explaining abbreviations, to A Collector's Guide to Non-Com/Small Pets and the Ten Reasons to Play a Warlock poem.

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July 10, 2007, 02:36 PM
Belzebutinov Character Info Curufinwë 70 Night Elf Rogue Kael'thas (EU-FR) Euro PvP Guild: <Kwet Kwet> Profile: Talent Spec: 16-45-0	The Tribulations of a Megalomaniac Warlock Well, here goes. This is the English translation of the very successful tale of the adventures of a megalomaniac warlock: Synapse. Originally written in French, the story is currently a few hundred pages long. At first, it was just written for the fun of it, but as time passed, it became increasingly popular, and turned into a fully grown tale, and is now arguably the most popular WoW-based fan fiction on the French forums (60 page long thread, about 85 000 views). As I came... Click here to read the entire guide Last edited by Belzebutinov; July 10, 2007 at 02:59 PM..

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September 07, 2009, 07:35 AM	#232 (permalink)
Triten Character Info Triten 68 Human Paladin Khadgar Asia PvE	Re: The Tribulations of a Megalomaniac Warlock Aww dang it..I wuda bought a t - shirt of Synapse :-/

September 14, 2009, 06:40 PM	#233 (permalink)
Eschatos Character Info Eschatos 80 Gnome Warlock Emerald Dream Euro PvE Guild: Seven Sins Profile: Blizzard Armory Talent Spec: 55/0/16	Re: The Tribulations of a Megalomaniac Warlock omg :/ next plz!!! :D __________________ Screamin' Jay Hawkins could have been a lock!

September 27, 2009, 10:37 AM	#234 (permalink)
Belzebutinov Character Info Curufinwë 70 Night Elf Rogue Kael'thas (EU-FR) Euro PvP Guild: <Kwet Kwet> Profile: Talent Spec: 16-45-0	Re: The Tribulations of a Megalomaniac Warlock CHAPTER 51: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE “Dead?” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get Fafinir's answer to make any sense. How could Synapse be dead? Last I heard, she was hanging out with the trolls. Fafinir, realizing with a pang of disappointment that his wine jug was empty, headed towards the common room to fill it back up. “Err... what do you mean, 'dead'?” I insisted. “She did something wrong and you disowned her? Dead, as in dead for you?” “Not at all. She's dead, gone, zap!” “Zap...” “How should I put it? Oh, whatever. Thingy, tell him.” The dwarf just referred to as Thingy, after having grumbled that his name was Bijaz, put his books down and looked at me through his half-moon spectacles. “Someone as close to death as you are would know what death truly is rather well, right?” The dwarf asked. “Well death's death, ain't it?” Said an Orc warrior who was busy admiring the weapons displayed over the mantlepiece. “You know: when you get bled white, when your heart stops beating, when you close your eyes, and all that.” “That is merely physical death. Such a demise can be countered in many ways, and priests such as myself have become experts at bringing back to life warriors who fell in combat.” The Orc who had answered looked somewhat embarrassed; odds were he had taken enough humiliating beatings to have to require assistance from a priest – or any other resurrection spell master – more than once. “However,” the dwarf went on, “such techniques do not always work. It takes much more than a simple healing spell to be brought back to life: these spells are not all-powerful. Truth be told, actually, one could say that these spells only work on those whose death is so 'fresh' you could compare it to a coma. The answer lies elsewhere: it lies with the soul.” “The soul?” Asked Pride, who had half-heartedly decided that he might as well listen. “The soul, indeed. Each and every living being has one, and each one is unique. It's the soul's 'toughness' that, in the end, decides whether or not one is indeed dead: as long as the soul holds fast, the body can be repaired. Obviously, precious few souls are resilient enough to withstand a violent death, or the complete destruction of the body: souls tend to be quick to depart.” “Except when your name is Kaos!” Said a human from the other end of the room, making everyone laugh. Hold on: Kaos? Something tells me I should connect this with something else concerning me... “So, in short, souls don't just die like that. A soul has its own logic, and it doesn't die from being skewered by a pointy sword, or poisoned, or shattered by a fall. Most of the time, a soul dies from the inside.” “You've got that right!” Said Pride. “A man who forgets who he is, who forgets where he comes from and what that means, who forsakes his individuality, now there's someone whom I call dead, and worth no better than a ghoul.” “Dead, as are those who shut out their desires, who ignore their body's calls: those are dead inside.” Lust added. “Precisely!” Said Bijaz. “There are many reasons, other than physical death, for a soul to disappear. That is what happened to Fafinir's daughter; I just don't know why.” The soul's death? But why? “What else? What else can trigger your soul's demise?” I asked. A small gnome warlock, sitting in a corner, put his pipe down and, stroking his embroidered red velvet robe, explained. “Inner conflicts, even in great numbers, rarely lead to a soul's death. However, there are some who have become specialists in the destruction or capture of mortal souls.” “Really? Who?” Asked Lust. “Demons, naturally. Are you or are you not one?” “Err... well, in a way.” Demons? That wasn't exactly new information; but what would a demon destroy Synapse's soul for? And why would her current soul keep on looking like the one she once had? “However, there happens to be another explanation.” Fafinir said. “One that would explain it all, especially for you, my dear little Calysto.” “I beg your pardon? What are you talking about?” “Our little chat about the soul surely hasn't taught you anything, has it? Ever since your sister died, you've been relentless in your efforts to bring back the dead who's souls have left. I'm not quite sure, but I believe you may have succeeded. With the Lich King's powers, you can now bring anyone back to life, provided you find their soul first. And yet, I still don't see that precious little sister of yours anywhere around, meaning something must have gone wrong.” “...” “Upon physical death, the souls who depart don't go that far away. All of them, give or take a few, linger in a part of Hell, where they straighten things out and complete themselves, which they can either take as a punishment or a reward, in which case this is referred to as Paradise. In the end, souls stay in these spirit communities for quite some time before truly disappearing, and, assuming you have the means to move through the demon planes, going after a specific soul to bring it back should be rather easy. Therefore, I must conclude that Lyly wasn't there.” “Nor was she in the High Elf communities, or any other community I visited for that matter.” “As a result, you sought a new way to look for souls, as certain souls do, indeed, remain in this world, whether bound by regret or enslaved by demons. However – and Gaïa's stone confirmed this – no demon is holding your sister's soul; as for the Elf stone, it only told you what you already knew: your sister's soul is no longer among us.” “If you know anything, out with it!” “There is another way for a soul to disappear: it can merge with another to become a new entity.” Mer... wait, what? “I have no idea why, but upon her death, your sister's soul bound itself to my daughter's. She started changing, becoming unpredictable, and at times violent; and in the end, the two souls finally became one, merging into a single personality, which you now know as Synapse.” “What?! How is this possible? Why didn't you say anything?” “Because I don't like what you do. A soul in search of peace must not be called back, that much should be obvious! However, I don't like this soul merger thing. It's unnatural, and no good will come from it. Synapse very clearly has great trouble in controlling her soul's lurching desires, which explains why she is so weak compared to the rest of this family's members.” “Synapse? Weak? You clearly... oh, never mind. I must know how to separate them! I must get Lyly's soul back! Once I have it, all I need is a body to bring her back.” Fafinir seemed saddened by all this, as if he had realized my priorities had very much changed. “Separate them? Come now, had it been that simple, you know I would have done so myself; but you don't just chase a twin soul away like a mere demon. Delving so deeply into a mortal's spirit is off-limits for me. On the other hand, I don't expect that to hold you back.” “If there still is the slightest chance her soul is still there, I-” “You won't do a thing. This little crusade of yours has already wreaked enough havoc as it is. Corrupting the stones to kill off the major races, humph! That's the stupidest thing I've heard since that 'kill-all-paladins' artifact; but, because of you and your obsession, the Lich King believes in it.” “He can do nothing without me.” “That's what you think! He is far more skilled than you in using others. Now, two choices stand before you: either you accept Synapse as she is now, or either you keep on fighting to bring back souls who've been gone for over ten years. I'm sure that Lich King of yours could find a way, but.... is that really what you want? Could you really bear everything it would mean?” I did not answer Fafinir's question. I stood there, struck, thinking about what I had just learned; and then, I spun on the spot and headed out. I had nothing more to do here. Lust pranced right behind me on my way out, while Pride looked at the beer he would have liked to finish with a regretful look. I had been foolish. Now, the answer was blatantly obvious. What I had been looking for had always been there from day one, right under my nose, as are all things you're looking for and can't find. Now, everything was going to be so much simpler... and a thousand times more complicated. * “He's gone.” Said Bijaz. “Looks like he made up his mind.” “I've always wanted to meet someone like him.” Fafinir answered. “Someone who can say they see reality as it is. Someone able to make a final choice, no matter how his heart could end up reacting, and no matter what he doesn't know yet. Some would consider this to be almost foolishly risky, but I rather see it as a form of bravery. Too bad his goals are so down-to-earth.” “But does that make him evil or not?” “Making a choice, knowing full well people will get hurt, knowing full well everything is hinting we shouldn't do it, and knowing full well that you wouldn't do it if you were just a tad bit wiser, yes, such a choice is... Well, you know, Bijaz, seeing your truth as the only one and forcing it upon others, that is what we know as Evil.” “Oh. I see. And what about Synapse? No matter what you say, she still is your daughter.” “Precisely! She's my daughter. That Sloth may be of high lineage, and a lord among the dead, and my daughter's soul may harbor a parasite, I couldn't imagine for a single second that a pathetic looser of his likes could defeat an heiress of clan Rouge.” “Right...” “Now, go get me something to drink: by the looks of it, this house is running out of wine, which is unacceptable.” * Outland, Nagrand * “So this is the Oracles' altar?” The satyr asked. “I led you on the path,” Tunak answered, “for I trust the friends of Synapse, sister of Gaïa. But why consult them? You do not look like one who seeks answers. Do you seek to salvage your marriage or your business?” “I do not seek such banalities. I just wish to help Synapse. Actually, I'm quite curious of hearing what they have to tell me.” Gurdan went down the white steps that led to Oracles' amphitheater. The place was, as usual, dead quiet. Precious few knew about the Oracles, and a demon being allowed among them was most unusual; however, protected by Draenei priest Tunak, and befriended by me, Gurdan, idol among demons, was granted access. Just like when I had come, the three oracles were standing in the middle of the room, straight as ramrods, pearly white, mute. The three creatures, of different races, had managed to decipher the mysteries destiny held, but it had cost them their spark of life, the same spark that made earthly creatures so lively, that distinguishes animals from plants or stones. In short, those three just grew old in their cave. The dwarf oracle was the first to awaken. “Well, well, well, what have here? A young satyr friend, how odd!” “Not that we weren't expecting him.” Added the orc. “I know, but isn't more fun to pretend to be surprised?” Sighed the elf. “Welcome Gurdan. I trust – I know – that your trip wasn't too tiring.” “Well... yeah, whatever you say.” Gurdan didn't feel comfortable with such confusing people. He preferred people how got straight down to business, people like me in other words. So, in a way, these oracles were some sort of personal hell for him. “As we do for all visitors, we shall offer you the answers to three questions.” The dwarf said. “We obviously always know what you're going to ask, but I guess it's more business-like to let people speak first.” “Not that we're selling anything: we do this for free.” Said the orc. “We don't need to sell anything on the other hand: we don't need to feed or anything...” Sighed the elf. “But forgive us, Gurdan. You may speak.” The satyr cleared his throat, and tried to look as forbidding as he could. “First of all, I would like, in Synapse's name, to tell you that these little games you've played with her and her sister were in very bad taste! Because of you, she traveled with Sloth without knowing who he was, which she only realized much too late!” “Indeed: we gave Sloth a chance to see Synapse without her recognizing him.” The dwarf confessed. “This young elf's personality is quite fascinating.” Said the elven oracle. “Even though he is focused on a single idea, it's the people around him that make what he does good or evil: he does not seem to care for such considerations.” “And we like people who think outside of the box.” Said the orc. Sloth? Not care for good or evil? Even coming from people as knowing as the oracles, Gurdan did not approve. In his opinion, it was each person's responsibility to realize how they affected other people, and to ask themselves if they were acting right or wrong. A rather strange thought coming from a satyr, a species which did not exactly draw its fame from its love of righteousness. “Is that all you have to tell me about him?” Gurdan grumbled. “Of course not, there is much to say. But what do you wish to know? What he truly wishes to accomplish? Whether or not he will succeed? If Synapse still loves him?” The dwarf said, in a very insisting tone. “Spare me your comments and just tell me if Sloth is a threat for Synapse, and how to stop him if he is. And by the way, let's cut the foreplay: if you really are oracles, then you know what questions I plan on asking.” “We do, we do.” The orc said apologetically. “And you must also know we will tell you only what we deem necessary for 'Destiny' to be accomplished – or, at least, for the Destiny we have in mind to be accomplished.” “I'm aware of that.” “And we are aware of the fact that you have decided, should you feel we are siding with Sloth, to put us to death.” The elf pointed out. “That's quite a courageous decision coming from you, though I find that a bit strong, considering you're on the 'good guy' team.” “We will just have you know,” the dwarf said, ”that we side with no one. I do not say this to save our lives, because either way, those who guard this place would not allow you to leave alive.” Gurdan's face was set, and he steeled himself as he mustered all the courage his had in him to do what he thought right. His hand gripped the flute dangling at his belt tightly, and he said: “Sloth is not Liven.” He said in a low voice. “This is no longer a game, and should Sloth keep on 'winning', then people will die. As you said yourself: he does not care about others, about whether they live or die, including Synapse.” “That is true. The boy has fought against death for such a long time that he has ended up feeling nothing but contempt for mortals; but his destiny is so fascinating, his story so beautiful... in our eyes, at least.” “So you will keep on helping him?” “Fate must go on! There is no other choice! For watchers-by such as ourselves, Sloth is a blessing. He is the grain of sand that will make the mechanism break down, and the resulting chaos is most pleasant to watch.” “I see. Sloth is certainly fascinating, I'll grant you that. But he does not yet have the gift of foresight, and can therefore still be stopped. I will not allow you to interfere.” Gurdan proceeded to pull out his flute and started playing. * After the Satyr's departure, when everything was once more calm and quiet, three lights started shining over the three corpses. “Killed by music.” The light over the orc's body moaned. “That could almost be poetic, was it not so pathetic. Of all our atrophied senses, we forgot to get rid of our hearing.” “It's alright.” The dwarf's light answered. “Everything is going as planned. True, we've lost our bodies, but we can still accomplish much as ghosts.” “Besides”, said the elf, “it's not like we did much with our bodies anyway.” “Shut up!” The two other lights snapped back simultaneously. The lights hovered closer to the bodies. As they finally reached them, each light assumed the shape of what it had once been, glowing softly as do ghosts. “I hate to say this, but I don't really see any difference at all. Come to think about it, this might even be better.” Sighed the elf. “Obviously. We've accepted this death because it will allow us to observe all the better, with our own eyes, if I may say so, the end of this little affair. And without foresight.” “Let's hope it's worth it!” Said the dwarf. “Of course it's worth it.” Said the elf. “We are speaking about the end of the world, right?” * Storm Peaks * “And so, that his how the reign of Zlapotek the 1st, king of the trolls of the Great Western Wall, came to and end!” “Wooow, you really know a lot of things mister Pilat!” Said Gaby, in awe. “Do you think we should wake Zek up now, sir?” “Yes, for starters.” The hunter slowly raised his aching head, wondering whether he had fallen asleep because of a fit of narcolepsy or because of the unbelievable flow of words and boring stories Pilat had in store when you got him started. Zek's machines had ran out of gas hours ago, forcing him and his team to forgo them and enter the Storm Peaks, Northrend's highest and coldest region, on foot. Norbert had resumed his job as a mount, and Gaby had – by miracle – managed to remember the formula to summon his charger, the magical creature bound to each paladin and which they would use as a mount at times. As for Pilat, well... “I've got to hand it to you, sir Pilat: your stamina is most impressive.” Said Zek. “You've been following our mounts on foot for hours, and you don't even look out of breath; what's more, you haven't stopped talking. You're going to end up making Norbert jealous.” “Oh, that's nothing. Back in the day, we elder trolls could scour all of Azeroth, running from the plains of Arathi all the way to Zul'Gurub without stopping for a single breather, should we be tasked with delivering a message with haste. Why, I remember one time when we won a battle, and had to announce it as quickly as possible, and...” “We got it, we got it. Still, you're quite the tough cookie for an ancestor, sir.” The troll grinned widely, baring his yellow, decaying teeth. It was a miracle that such a worn-out, and, quite honestly, rotting old man could even walk, let alone run. “You can stop calling me 'sir', you know.” “Sorry about that, it's an elf thing. I always call my elders 'sir'.” “Didn't you call C'thun 'old brain-dead eye'?” “Oh, yeah, but then again he's the one who brought me up, so that's more like a rebel teenager thing.” “Well then, get ready to meet your uncle Yoggy, and let me tell you: next to him, C'thun is family's funny guy. Speaking of Yogg'Saron, I remember that time when...” And it was back to hours of storytelling and descriptive monologues about life as a troll in early years for Pilat. Helpless, Zek tried to trigger another fit of narcolepsy, but before he could: “Wow, you really never stop, do you?” The one who had just spoken was a death knight, or close enough: it was Dibz. “Oh, I had clean forgotten about that one.” Zek sighed, hearing the other troll's voice. “No, I mean, seriously.” Dibz went on. “You. Never. Stop. Even Wrath spoke less, and allow me to remind you that I read his effing thoughts! That's unnatural, it is!” “Speaking of which, how does that work?” Gaby asked. “Can you read just anyone's mind?” “No, you need to perform a spell to read minds. Either way, there wouldn't be much to read with you, if you get my drift, ha ha ha!” While it started to dawn on Dibz that he was the only one laughing, Zek wondered, for an umpteenth time, what exactly that death knight was doing with them. Since Wrath had left, Dibz was somewhat jobless, and feeling no desire to head back to Malykriss, he had decided to take a bit of a holiday, and considering he didn't care much for Zul'Drak, and that he had no better ideas, he had quite naturally tagged along with Zek. Though Dibz had not inherited his uncle Dabla's bureaucratic side, he had nonetheless the rare ability of being able to be accepted by everyone without questions, a necessary quality for gatecrashers or tax agents. Still, Gaby had a hard time making sense out all this. “Mister Dibradza, you are a death knight, right?” “Bingo, brainy boy.” Dibz answered, already regretting his insisting on an unfunny joke. “So you're a bad guy then?” “What? Oh come now, I wouldn't hurt a winged silithid!” “Then you're not a death knight?” “No, I am: I've received their training and wield the order's powers, and I can -” “- then you're a bad guy then?” “Nooo! Come one, it's not automatic! May I remind you there are death knights on your side too? That traitor, what was his name... well, no, I didn't mean traitor, he's a good guy... well, he did betray his side, but not in a mean way...” Gaby was getting desperately lost. “But, if all death knights aren't bad guys, then maybe Sloth is a good guy after all!” “Whoa whoa whoa, stop it there, Gaby!” Zek stepped in. “I don't mind you saying something stupid every now and then, but that one went too far. Sloth is a bastard, period.” “But we don't actually know what he wants, do we?” Gaby answered back. “Maybe he's working for us in secret. He was a good man while he was on our side, you know, before he... beheaded that guy who didn't die.” “Come again?” Asked Dibz. “Drop it Gaby! There's no need to get all worked up over all this: things are much simpler than they look. A guy is good when you like him, and bad when you don't. Sloth made Synapse cry, so he's definitely a bad guy.” Pilat guffawed as he heard the latest in Zekish philosophy. After once again waking the hunter up, the old troll explained. “That's a nice way of seeing things, Zek. Only someone as free as you could have such a look on things, but it nonetheless is beautiful. I'll grant you this: Sloth does seem to be pointlessly complicated to me, all the while having no consideration whatsoever for right or wrong. A true mystery.” “He's a falsely complicated moron.” Zek snapped back. “Nothing more than a pose-striking pretty boy. Synapse deserves much better than him, obviously.” “Let me guess: someone like a pointy-eared hunter who easily falls asleep. Close enough?” Zek looked daggers at him, furious at having been so obvious. Gaby defended him, pointing out that Zek had been much quieter these past times, and had even accepted to leave her to go on a mission. “Precisely.” Zek said. “You need to give your loved one some elbow space, and not to impose when they have problems, so as to not add any more... And Elune knows Synapse has a metric ton of trouble on her hands right now. I am therefore doing my best to take care of that.” “Quite the gentleman, kiddo!” Said Pilat. “You'd be even more of a gentleman if you stopped badgering Gaby with your theories on the pleasures of a bachelor's life and with your seduction how-to. Just one troll's opinion...” “That's completely besides the point!” Answered Zek, convinced of what he was saying. “A bachelor's life is the only one fit for real men... well, real elves actually... though, on second thought, no: real men was closer to the mark. In short: there are too many swell girls in the world to just bury yourself with a single one in a sorry wedding you'll regret by noon the next day!” “What about Synapse?” “That would be my theory's flaw. But it doesn't prove anything!” “I really hate to interrupt such a grand debate,” said Dibz, “but I would truly appreciate it if you could look this way, before I run away as fast as I can.” As it happens, “this way” meant the grand entrance to Ulduar, which the group had just reached. Ulduar, the ancient fortress of the Titans who had wrought Azeroth, was unparalleled. Last remain of a time long gone, the great stone towers of Ulduar stood tall since the beginning of times, a testament to the Titans' presence at the world's creation. It was all that was left of a time that was no more, home to the strange servants of the Titans, left behind, in an odd routine that seemed to have run amok, to watch over Azeroth. Ulduar was like a giant, broken clock, late by centuries. However, at that precise moment, the thing that really stood out was not the impressive architecture, but rather the dozens, or actually hundreds of dead bodies laying on the ground. “What... what is that?” Asked Gaby. “I'll tell what that is.” Said Dibz, who sounded more alarmed by the second. “Those are death knights, all of them dead. I didn't even know our army had so many death knights... astounding.” “Maybe they're dead undead?” Gaby suggested. “You know, undead brought back with death knight armors killed again. Possible?” “No. Only true death knights are given such armors.” Dibz sighed. “And these guys didn't die too long ago.” Zek added. “Their bodies may have been chewed at by the local beasts, but there's no denying they're fresh. A couple of days, no more, if you ask me. These are the remains of an untold battle.” “The guardians of Ulduar versus the death knights?” Pilat wondered. “That doesn't make any sens at all: Yogg'Saron and Arthas have always ignored each other.” “Then it would appear they've have a change of minds.” Zek replied, gazing at the disaster. “And by the looks of it, Yoggy has just taken the lead.” As Nobert was absentmindedly gazing at the death knights' remains, slowly sinking into the snow, trapped in those unique armors of theirs, someone else appeared on the field; someone very much alive, walking among the dead. A human, to be precise, and who seemed oddly relaxed for someone in such a situation. “Hey, that's...” Zek started, before falling asleep. “Oh yeah, that's...” Gaby said, before forgetting what he wanted to say. “Who the hell is that?” Asked Dibz. “The name is Kaos.” Pilat obliged. “A famous sorcerer of Clan Rouge. He is Synapse's uncle, and, incidentally, an immortal.” Kaos seemed to be in great shape, considering he had somewhat recently been beheaded, and he warmly greeted those he had not seen since the trip to Northrend. After having arrived in Northrend, the mage had walked his own path, which had led him to Ulduar. Kaos explained he had a small question to ask Yogg'Saron, and was very curious to hear everything about Zek and the rest of team's mission, which was to say getting their hands on the ritual. “Hmm, that's a most peculiar form of magic, I wouldn't have expected Synapse to be able to wield it.” “Synapse is just full of surprises.” Zek replied in a dreamy tone. “But tell me, uncle Kaos, you're not actually behind this slaughter, are you?” “You mean all these bodies? No, they were already there when I arrived. What worries me, though, is the fact that all the bodies are from the same side... As far as I can remember, the guardians of Ulduar were powerful, but not that powerful.” “You've already been here?” Dibz asked. “Yes, but that was quite some time ago; back then, Yogg'Saron's corruption had not yet brought ruin to Ulduar. The ancient god had not yet turned his prison into a fortress. Actually, the placed looked more like a giant library.” “That's scary too.” Said Gaby. It needs to be brought to attention that, in the paladin world, libraries are edgy places no more welcoming than a crypt or a necropolis. The sheer idea of bringing, in a single place, on a single shelf even, more books than an entire legion of paladins could read in their entire lives, was more than theses warriors of light could bear; as such, their order often considered libraries as places of mystical, and sometimes even deadly powers. Seeing thousand upon thousands of bodies around Ulduar certainly didn't help Gaby think any better of them either. “Hey, Dibz, you don't seem very surprised to see an immortal.” Zek pointed out, noticing the troll's lack of reaction. “Yeah.” Gaby added. “It's still weird to us. But, I still don't get it... don't you kill immortals by taking off their heads normally?” “You know,” Dibz explained, “I already know more immortals than I care to count. I already mentioned the seven fingers were, each in their own way, immortal, didn't I?” “What? Each one?” Kaos asked, disappointed he was no longer unique. “Yes. Concerning Wrath, it's pretty obvious: his blood magic constantly counters what harm may come to him. Of course, you could theoretically kill him, but that would be quite a feat: as long as even the smallest part of his brain dwells, he can regenerate, and time has no effect on him.” “Yeah, well he isn't a REAL immortal then.” Kaos said, pouting. “As for the others, I didn't really ever ask for details, but they say that Greed bought his immortality, that death is but an illusion to Lust, that Envy cheats death, that Pride refuses death, that Gluttony is legion and that Sloth has undone death.” Dibz's explanation was followed by a long silence, everyone trying to put some meaning behind words that sounded as if they had come straight from a death knight's training manual. Most of it didn't make any sense to Zek, but he did notice that Ehmb's words, about Gluttony being more than one death knight, maybe even a whole army, were starting to sound very true. As for Sloth's undoing death, then that would explain much regarding Xzan's betrayal. “Hmm, this whole finger thing is very strange.” Kaos said. “If you ask me, Arthas might just be trying to surround himself with immortals, mere blotched-up copies of himself.” “Sloth killed you with one blow, remember?” Zek pointed out. “I wasn't prepared! How was I supposed to guess he had death knight powers? Besides, when you're an immortal, like me, you tend to go... slack. Anyway, I have no doubt that Sloth and those little friends of his are quite a special band of people, but what really matters is that Arthas has brought them together; but what for? I can easily understand Wrath's motivations: he probably just wants as much bloodshed as possible, and Arthas is his best bet. As for Sloth, well, I guess he considers Arthas to be a great subject of study.” “A subject of study? What's that supposed to mean?” Zek asked. “Well, about dual-souls: Ner'zhul and Arthas, just like Sissie and Lily. Her father told me.” “Err... what? I mean... what?” * Borean Tundra, Horde Fortress * Ehmb sighed once again, as he stepped off the weird zeppelin that had just taken him to the Tundra. Located at the far west of Northrend, the Borean Tundra was far enough from the main battles, but as Ehmb very much expected, other plots were afoot. Leaving the Goblin pilot – who had asked for an obscene amount of money for the trip – without looking back, Ehmb marched straight towards the fortress's keep, where he had been instructed to head for in the letter received in Dragonblight. Ehmb debated for a second whether he should just drop it all and go back home, to Azeroth, and just slack around until things were settled; but then, it occurred to him his home was quite probably already in ashes. He went on, guided by an orc servant, all the way to the dark and heavily guarded quarters of the rebel death knights. It had been months since Ehmb had last seen his spouse. The plot against the Forsaken had already caused him to worry much about her, and the actual situation, on the brink of total anarchy, did nothing to allay his concerns. It was therefore to be expected that the first thing Ehmb's wife would say to him, upon finally being reunited, would be: “Well it's about time!” “Hello, honey. Are you alright? It's been a while, you know, I've been worrying about you. Oh, I'm fine, and you? Everything's fine, we're alright.” “This is no time for sarcasm you idiot, you're in presence of the queen!” Ehmb noticed, with a jolt of surprise, that someone was indeed waiting in a corner of the room. An elf, with a dark complexion, wearing black leather and a black hood, and with a bow fastened in her back. A testimony to the fact she was at war, queen Sylvanas was once again wearing her former ranger's outfit. “Your highness, allow me to introduce my worthless lump of a husband. However useless he his, he has nonetheless been in contact with the the forsaken faction present at the battle before the gates. He was there when they... changed their loyalties.” “Putress!” Sylvanas bellowed, as if she were cursing. “That rat really has betrayed me! And all that for some stupid revenge. The time of the forsaken? Bullshit! I'm the one who created the forsaken, and no one is going to teach ME any lessons regarding revenge!” “She's been that way ever since she learned Undercity had fallen.” Isabella explained. “And Varimathras! How the hell could I have been so stupid to expect a dreadlord to swear allegiance to anyone?! Curse them all, a thousand times!” Ehmb had never seen his queen in such a state ever before, except maybe for that time when she had run into a few poems written by a gnome, who suggested a one-way romance between her and the Lich King, Arthas. The poor thing had good reason to be devoured by hate: she was the first of the Forsaken, the beautiful elven ranger slaughtered by Arthas and brought back as a Banshee, at his legions' service, ravaging the elven homeland of Quel'thalas. It was her hatred, and the right circumstances, which had allowed her to free herself from Arthas's dominion and to fight back, all the while realizing what she had lost. Yes, Sylvanas had good reason to be angry, and not the least because Putress and Varimathras suggested she wasn't angry enough. “My lady,” said Ehmb, “as far as Undercity is concerned, I can assure you the Horde will -” “- the Horde! That's exactly why all of this has happened: they accuse me of having been weak to the point of seeking an alliance with the living. Those idiotic apothecaries have no idea: had it not been for Thrall and the Horde, we would have been fed to the dogs of the Alliance, just another challenge for those so-called heroes.” “But, your majesty, the Alliance has lost one of its heroes in this affair. General Bolvar has been killed, directly because of Putress. Those idiots panicked when they saw it was Arthas himself who came down to meet Bolvar and Saurfang's challenge. First, he killed the orc general, and when he went to face Bolvar, Putress struck with his poison. He hit Bolvar's troops square in the middle, with a deadly new Scourge. Arthas fled, Bolvar died. Those who survived were ambushed by a scourge of another kind: Malykriss, the vengeful fist of Arthas.” Lowering his eyes, Ehmb tried to keep his calm while he told what he had seen. “Everyone panicked. The traitors were the quickest to flee, and the troops of the Horde and the Alliance should have followed them. Leaderless, they were nothing but appetizers to the the 'fingers'.” “The what?” “Arthas's elite squad of death knights. They came down from Malykriss, alone. Greed, Lust, Sloth, Envy, Pride, and... and Gluttony.” The warlock nearly belched the last name, hatred seething in his voice. “The mortals never stood a chance. Actually, most of the death knights didn't do a thing, apart from Pirde, who wanted to fight me despite Sloth forbidding him to do so. Lust also captured a few paladins, to 'play' with. But no, it was Gluttony who did it all. Of course, the armies were already fleeing when they arrived, but Gluttony finished them off.” “And what exactly is this 'Gluttony' then?” “An abomination, my Lady. I cannot describe it to you in detail, but be assured that in order to defeat this thing, you will need to exercise great caution, because -” “- I'll handle it later, Ehmbitterd. My priority no longer lies with Arthas and his legions. Right now, we must reclaim Undercity at any cost, and make sure the Alliance doesn't turn on us.” “Your highness? I beg your pardon? How...” Sylvanas sighed. Under normal circumstances, it was Varimathras with whom she worked with when dealing with politics, and he usually understood the Banshee Queen's thoughts instantly. But Sylvanas was now alone, and she now realized how foolish she had been. “I fled from my post, as your wife had suggested. She turned out to be right in advising me to do so, but still: for a time, it was those traitors who were in charge in my city, and who ordered the attack which killed Bolvar. The King of Stormwind is back with a vengeance, and his hate rests much more with Horde than with the Scourge. This is the perfect diplomatic incident.” “A plot?” “Obviously! Putress may indeed have thought he was truly helping the cause of the Forsaken, but Varimathras knew very well what he was up to. He gave the Horde and the Alliance a reason to start a new war, at the very worst moment possible, with us, the weak link, being his excuse. King Varian couldn't possibly miss such a chance.” “But the armies are here, not on the old continents! We're not going to start a fight surrounded by Arthas's armies!” “Won't we? The Alliance has already been known to act rashly, and Thrall no longer controls anyone. And in the meanwhile, Arthas is having a field day. We must find a way to sic our armies back on him, and to avoid letting our old bad habits get the best of the orcs and the men... and you're going to help me. * Wintergrasp * “Victory! For the Horde!” Liven bellowed. “Oh, the shame...” Brexxor sighed. The raging battle was barely over. Standing on a tank, Liven was delivering a fiery speech to the warriors, still reeling from their victory over the Alliance in Wintergrasp Keep, a point of tension between the Alliance and Horde, who were more and more eager to fight each other. “We just started a useless fight just so we could get into the fortress.” Brexxor whispered to Liven. “We are playing a dangerous game here.” “Oh, spare yourself the remorse, my dear. These troops wanted a brawl. What can I say: some things will never change in Azeroth: the stupidity of the paladins, and the unquenchable thirst for battle between humans and orcs, no matter the number of undead or demons around them.” Liven once again waved at the crowd, which hailed its strategist. Broadly grinning, Liven muttered to herself: “Not that the orcs are bright either...” Author's note: well, that's it for this time. Yes, it's a bit chaotic, but more info is heading your way, in the next chapter! Yes, I'm aware the title doesn't have much to do with the chapter, but people have threatened to disembowel me if I don't start watching and reading Jane Austin. The title just stuck with me. Sorry for those of you who expected more info on Pride; that will be for later on.

September 28, 2009, 04:48 AM	#235 (permalink)
Triten Character Info Triten 68 Human Paladin Khadgar Asia PvE	Re: The Tribulations of a Megalomaniac Warlock Yu know..I like the way the story is getting progressivley darker..IT was all funny and nonsensical in the begining, but its slowly getting a lot more intense...I used to lol a lot initially, now I lol a bit, but hold my breath a lot more...

October 06, 2009, 03:39 AM	#236 (permalink)
Belzebutinov Character Info Curufinwë 70 Night Elf Rogue Kael'thas (EU-FR) Euro PvP Guild: <Kwet Kwet> Profile: Talent Spec: 16-45-0	Re: The Tribulations of a Megalomaniac Warlock Darker might not be the word I'd use, but it has changed quite a bit over the years. There are still quite a few good laughs though

November 16, 2009, 12:35 PM	#237 (permalink)
Belzebutinov Character Info Curufinwë 70 Night Elf Rogue Kael'thas (EU-FR) Euro PvP Guild: <Kwet Kwet> Profile: Talent Spec: 16-45-0	Re: The Tribulations of a Megalomaniac Warlock * Ulduar * Zek, along with the rest of his group, which Kaos had just joined, decided to put an end to what was likely to become an endless argument on what was going on around them, and headed on to the heart of Ulduar to accomplish their mission, which was to say finding the ritual for Zek and his companions, and something probably far more interesting for Kaos. Despite Dibz's loudly protesting as they ran into more and more decaying bodies, the group made for the tallest tower in Ulduar, which was quite probably, according to Kaos, the entrance to Yogg'saron's prison. Apart from the countless dead lying all over the place, the main entrance was guarded by a statue of stone and iron, made to look like a dwarf. Only, this statue moved. Oh, and talked too. "Oy! You, over there!" The statue shouted. "You're not Gluttony, are you?" "Er... no." Gaby answered, after having nonetheless questioned his identity over. "Hmm, I thought not. You didn't really look right, though you do have a death knight among you." The iron dwarf said, pointing his finger at Dibz. The statue's attitude was odd at the very least, but then again, its very existence was an oddity to begin with. Come to think of it, though, maybe not quite. A short lesson in history is necessary in order to understand. You see, it is often said that the world of Azeroth was wrought by the Titans. That would be wrong. The Titans just waltzed onto Azeroth, just as they had on scores and scores of other worlds they had previously visited by using their ships and ancient technologies. Upon arriving on Azeroth, they saw a promising world indeed, and decided to take it over. Reshaping an entire world demands quite a workforce, so the Titans created flocks of servants to help them do so. But as it happens, the Titans don't work with flesh and blood: they use only iron and stone. The beings thus wrought to help them accomplish their task were all modeled after the dwarf Zek and his friends had just met. Mechanical beings, blessed with thought, but entirely devoted to their task. However, the Titans soon realized that they were by no means alone on Azeroth; another evil race lived there: the Very Ancient Gods. They waged a war against the Titans, directly assaulting their servants by means of a disease that contaminated nearly all of them, corrupting them, turning stone to flesh. And thus, by trying to weaken the Titans, did they bring into being the major races – or, at the very least, the dwarves, the gnomes, and quite possibly the humans too. Ironically, the Titans saw this as something of a progress, and debated on whether they should really destroy the Very Ancient Gods, considering their doom would put an end to this “curse of flesh”, meaning death for the aforementioned species. In the end, they decided to lock them up and to throw away the key, while the few servants who had not been contaminated stayed back and watched over them. Yogg'saron was one of these surviving gods, and Ulduar was his jail; but his guards had changed, to the point where they clean forgot their mission; or, rather, to the point where that “old decaying brain” made them forget. Now, they were nothing more than an army whose general made himself look like a prisoner. “You wouldn't happen to be adventurers, would you?” Said the dwarf, raising a stone eyebrow. “Of course not! No need to be rude!” Zek said, after a rather long and embarrassing silence. “We've got an appointment with Yogg'saron.” Kaos went on. “This is his visiting day, correct?” The statue froze for a moment as it tried to process this rather unusual bit of information. After some odd clanking sounds, the dwarf replied: “Yes, of course, of course. I'm afraid you're out of luck though, they must have messed up the planning again. You see, we're in the middle of operation Gluttony, so you can't go in, it could be dangerous.” Kaos and Zek exchanged a glance: obviously, Ulduar had something to do with the death knights, and more specifically with this specific one they didn't know yet: Gluttony. Were all those dead around the fortress his soldiers then? “What do you mean by 'operation Gluttony', my young dwarf?” Pilat asked. “Oh, you don't know? Well, err... I'm being informed, as we speak, that it's nearly over. I think it would just be simpler if you went on and checked it out for yourself. Go on, I'll give the Leviathan a heads-up so he'll let you by; though either way, he wouldn't pose much of a threat: I doubt he has much ammo left.” And with no further ado, the dwarf led the small group to a huge corridor that drove straight to the heart of Ulduar. The building was huge to the point where you could barely see the ceiling, while the gigantic columns that held it up were in fact towers full of dwarves just like the doorman, the whole lot of them busy as ants, working hard and in a very organized fashion. Zek noticed most of them were towing bodies away, towards the exit. They reached a portal in front of which, parked slightly to the side, stood a humongous steamtank, built in the greatest dwarven tradition, but blown out of proportion to a near-ludicrous point. “Ah, odds are this is the Leviathan our short friend was referring to.” Said Pilat. “Well, this certainly explains the sad state we found the bodies in: the shells it shoots must each be the size of a death knight.” Zek added. “Come on, let's move.” Kaos suggested. “The further we get before they realize we're not supposed to be in here at all, the better.” Dibz, who was still pouting, took a second to ask a question that was bothering him: “Speaking of that: why on earth did they let us through so easily? Are they just stupid, or is there a reason?” “Maybe it's because we asked politely?” Gaby suggested. “Yoggy purposefully made them stupid.” Said Kaos. “Had he not done so, they'd actually be doing what they were meant to do, and the 'God' would be a true prisoner. Instead, they're the prisoners: prisoners of a stupid, dreary routine, subtly influenced by Yoggy according to his needs. But make no mistake about it: when he detects our presence, it will take him no effort to turn these charming dwarves into bloodthirsty killers. So pick up the pace already.” The corridor quickly led to a junction, leaving our adventurers with the very classical three-way choice – or, for those less brave, a four-way choice. Gaby had already started to explain the latest paladin theories on how to handle such choices – just always head straight on – when a stranger appeared. The group saw a figure clad in a death knight's armor to their right. Gloved hands rose to unbuckle the fastenings on the horned, threatening helm, revealing a long, buckling mane of red hair. “A girl?” Said Gaby, surprised. “A fox!” Kaos added. The death knight's large, green eyes rested on each person in front of her. As they reached Zek, she gave a start, and a slight, near sorrowful smile grew on her face. And the next moment, a burst of flames charred her black. Before they knew it, the group was staring at nothing more than a pile of smoking ashes. “What... what was THAT?” Dibz blurted out. Without uttering so much as a word, Zek rushed forward, followed by Kaos and Gaby. Pilat and Dibz briefly stared at one another, and decided to follow. The corridor to the right led to a huge room, so large you would have sworn you were outside: the ceiling was so far up you couldn't even see it. Anyway, what really caught your attention as you stared up wasn't the fact you couldn't even see the ceiling: it was rather the giant dragon flying in circles. Its booming voice covered all else in Ulduar as it spoke. “MORE OF THEM? WHAT THE HELL ARE THE GATE KEEPERS UP TO?” Veranus, formerly the mount of Thorim, the guardian left in charge of watching over Ulduar by the Titans, was know known as Razorscale. This powerful northern dragon had been captured by the machines of Ulduar, covered in sheets of iron, and trained to devour anyone reckless enough to attack her new master, Yogg'saron. However, Ulduar hadn't exactly been built for the kind of adventurers who relished facing many adversaries before taking on the final enemy; therefore, Razorscale had ended up in a corner you could completely ignore while moving on. So in the end, Razorscale didn't get to enjoy much company. However, when Zek and his team showed up, the dragon seemed quite fed up with uninvited guests. “Oh, hey, a dragon.” Said Zek. “WHAT? YOU'RE DIFFERENT! YOU'RE NOT GLUTTONY?” “No, we're not Gluttony, enough with that question already!” “Oh, alright, my bad then.” The dragon answered, in a very different tone. The dragon landed next to Zek with a crashing sound of metal grinding on stone. The dragon was quite used to puny mortals being awed by her sheer size or her disturbing metal coverings, but as it happens, Zek's only reaction was a typical fit of narcolepsy. “What the hell?!” “No wait!” Pilat stepped in. “It's nothing personal. He just sort falls asleep like that all the time.” “Hmmbl...? Oh, sorry about that.” Said Zek as he woke up. “Besides, I never understood why everyone is so afraid of dragons. I mean, I've known much worse as a child!” “It's not everyone who grows up with C'thun, Zek.” “What? No, I was talking about the elf mothers! I'll take a dragon over them any time!” Razorscale stared at the group at her feet. Under normal circumstances, she thought all midgets looked alike, but this time, there was something different about these midgets: they were different from the usual stone dwarves crawling around Ulduar, who changed and furbished her metal coverings every now and then. There was a fair-haired paladin, a troll death knight, another troll, rather decaying, a human that seemed interested in everything around him except her, and a night elf hunter who kept on babbling about everything. Yes, there could be no doubt: these adventurers were even stupider than the dwarves. “What do you want then?” Razorscale asked. “For starters, why did you mercilessly slaughter that gorgeous young woman who didn't do anything to you!” Bellowed Zek, who finally remembered why he was so angry in the first place. “I thought that 'dragons harming helpless damsels in distress' thing was just a stereotype, but it's true! You'd deserve to end up as chimney ornament in Stormwind! “'Helpless damsel in distress'?” Said the dragon, astounded. “No, wait... you've got to be new around here.” “Well, alright, so she was a death knight. But that's no reason! And aren't you supposed to be all on the same side? Why the slaughter?” Razorscale sighed. Having to explain these things to such wretched fools was a real pain. She would have more than happily turned them into lunch, but after the last few hours, she was already filled to the back teeth. “Haven't you noticed anything unusual about that 'damsel', and all the others?” The dragon asked. “The others? You mean the bodies?” Dibz asked. “Yes. Did you bother to take a closer look at them?” “Most of them are in too bad a shape for us to be able to tell anything at all about them. Those the dwarven steamtanks didn't blow to smithereens were reduced to ashes by you.” “Hmm... go on, take a closer look.” Unsettled by the amused look on the dragon's face, Zek leaned over one of the more intact bodies. The face was charred black and impossible to recognize, and the armor was almost completely melted, but there was something about it. Something... “Bingo.” Said Kaos. “Ditto.” Said Pilat. “I don't get!” Gaby whined. “Me neither, so why don't you oblige us!” Dibz ordered. “The bodies.” Kaos explained. “They're all the same.” There was a moment's silence after Kaos's explanation, as Zek and Dibz's brains tried to make some sense out of it. As for Gaby, he had already given up. “What do you mean, 'all the same'? You can't just-” “- same size, same girth, and same very womanly figure despite the armor. Look again Zek, carefully.” Kaos told him. “All these bodies are those of a same and single person: the girl we saw a few minutes ago.” “Yes. Gluttony.” Razor said, smiling. Zek looked around with a new look in his eyes. Ulduar was filled with thousands of bodies, all of them of the same person. What was it that Ehmb had said? That Gluttony was?” “An army.” *** After having badgered the dragon with dozens of questions she didn't want to answer, Zek and his companions got back on their way. Besides, Razorscale was busy digesting and clearly not in their way. Even better: Razorscale had drawn them a map to reach Yogg'saron by the quickest paths, so as to “Thank that old pile of rotting flesh for having posted me in a sector with no one around but serial-produced death knight women.” You'll have guessed by know that dragons can get a tad spiteful. The first step on Razorscale's map was simply heading straight forward at the junction they had first reached, towards a room guarded by what Razorscale had dubbed “that damned insane steel fruitcake”. Zek understood what Razorscale had meant the minute he saw it. It. A robot. A BIG robot. A big robot which, just as the adventurers entered the room, squawked, in a high-pitched mechanical voice that would drive any normal being insane: “Hi everyone! Get ready to shape up! I hope you're all ready to play, and that you feel like winners! Be a winner! Time to get up and move, to get back into shape! So, who goes first?” Zek was stunned. “What... what is that abomination?!” That abomination was XT-002, aka “the deconstructor”. One of the newer machines in Ulduar – newer as in not as old as the rest which was tens of thousands of years old – this odd being had fully integrated its part as latest-born of Ulduar, which to its mind meant it had to be the best. It took glory in its own perfect mechanical body, which it spent its days taking care of, by exercising, which, for a machine, was completely daft; but it made it feel better and more perfect. It hated ugliness, embodied by rust among robots and fat among living beings, and it had devoted itself to making the entire world fit and good-looking by forcing endless physical exercises on it. This explains why, instead of attacking our horrified adventurers, it offered to let them pass if one of them could finish one of its fitness programs. Our adventurers weren't exactly thrilled. “Right then. Who volunteers?” Kaos asked. “Count me out for starters. I became a mage in the first place to precisely not jiggle around like some pathetic warrior.” “Couldn't we just take it down?” Zek suggested. “There are only five of us.” Pilat pointed out. “If we can avoid combat because the enemy is retarded, then it'll be all the better for us. However, I hope you'll understand that, being the eldest here...” “Agreed, Pilat is out too. And so is Zek, that moron could actually fall asleep in the middle of it. Which leaves us with only two options.” Dibz and Gaby froze for a minute, as they realized the others were staring at them. The death knight was the first to react. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much my armor weighs? And allow me to remind you I can't take it off.” “Liar.” Zek said. “We've already seen Sloth without his.” “Humph. The reason I became a translator in the first place was to not have to do these kind of things!” “I'm the one who's using that excuse.” Kaos reminded him. Grumbling and swearing under his breath, Dibz started to remove his plate armor while Zek helped Gaby, who was clearly lost with all the fastenings on his armor. Once done, Zek took a few steps back, realizing that this might be the first time he saw Gaby without his armor. And so it was a rather odd couple – Dibz, and Gaby-“light” – that strode up to the deconstrutor, which was delighted to finally have some followers. The robot started out by a series of simple moves that looked like some simple morning stretching. Maybe it just didn't want to scare them off. “Come on, children! And now, 500 push-ups! One! Two! Three! Four!” “I swear... puff the things they make huff us do! This wasn't on the adventurer huff job description!” Dibz complained. “Yeah gaaah that's always how gaaaah it ends.” “And now, 500 knee flexions!” The mechanical voice screeched. “Bloody machine, we haven't even done 10 push-ups yet!” Dibz shouted. Zek sternly frowned at him, making it clear that this was no time rant and not follow instructions. As long as the robot didn't see anything wrong, the test wasn't failed. Dibz grudgingly went on. “And now for a bit of jogging, children! One-two, one-two, one-two, raise those knees higher!” “The guy who came up with this was either a total sadist or a lunatic!” “This isn't really any different from Cattnia's training sessions.” Gaby answered. “It's not even whipping us.” “I've got no idea who that Cattnia is, but I definitely feel sorry for you, bro.” The robot started side-stepping and waving its arms around, zigzagging through the room so randomly that the two would-be sportsmen lost any idea of which direction to go in. “This is getting harder!” Gaby pointed out. “Not to mention we have no idea how long this is going to last.” “Until it's exhausted, I guess.” “You're waiting for a robot to be exhausted? Now that's rich! No, we've got to find some way to deactivate it. After all, it's just a machine. We could use an engineer right now.” Gaby thought a bit, trying to remember if anyone among them happened to be an engineer. “Well, there's Xzan, but she betrayed us so I guess it complicates things. There's Liven in the guild, but she's our enemy too.” “Your life sounds real simple.” “Well, usually we just do what the bad guys tell us to and they screw up on their own, we don't have to do anything ourselves.” While taking some time to reflect on how deep his sentence was, Gaby kept on doing the robot's exercises – in this case one-legged rolls – and realized that his near-constant armor-wearing had cost him quite a bit of his former litheness. Rather nostalgic and worried about the passing time, he nonetheless took a second to inform the others that he wasn't going to hold much longer. “If it keeps on forcing us to make impossible moves, I'm going to have to give up.” “Impossible moves... Now there's an idea! HEY, THINGY!” The Deconstructor, unsettled by the irreverent name, stopped in its tracks to give that horrible troll that had dared to interrupt it its most contemptuous glare. “Yes, oh inferior fleshling?” “Instead of wasting our time with exercises that last forever, I have a challenge for you. I bet I can do exercises you couldn't dream of accomplishing!” “Bollocks! I am a perfect being, my gears and springs are incomparably superior to your pathetic flesh and bones.” “Really now? Then I'll challenge you to a limbo match!” Surprised by this unusual challenge, XT-002 grudgingly accepted, convinced that either way there wasn't a challenge it couldn't win. With renewed confidence, Dibz fetched a couple of iron bars, one fit for him, and one fit for the robot, easily 30 feet long; he set them at proportional heights. Zek walked up to them and warned Dibz: “Hey, that bar is dangerously close to the ground, don't you think? I mean, I couldn't even crawl under that!” “Chill out, the robot will be facing the same challenge. Pilat, music!” Pilat took out some old Kodo-hide drums, and started playing ancestral troll beats that suited the challenge quite well. Dibz started breathing deeply, looking very concentrated, as he oiled his limbs with a flask he happened to have in one of his bags. He strode up to the bar. The only ones who actually hurt themselves were the onlookers, who nearly broke their necks as they tried to follow Dibz's bending spine. It looked as if Dibz had gone flat, and without ever touching the ground, the troll scurried under the bar, which he managed not to touch either. As he finished passing, he straightened up as if nothing had happened. The robot, vexed and worried, realizing it had no choice but to follow suit, ordered the iron dwarves to start beating on their own stone drums. It bent as far as machine could, and... CRAAAAAAAAACK Broken in two, the robot gave off some last death clangs, and went straight up to robot heaven. “And there you have it!” The troll said, quite proud of himself. “Dibz, world chaaaaaampiooooon!” “Son of a talbuk, it worked!” Zek said, amazed. “Yep, and it was actually easier than I expected. I thought we'd need more than just one round.” “We were lucky to have a limbo champion among us!” Gaby said, thrilled. Covering himself with a large towel, as if it were a toga, Dibz gave a haughty little laugh. “Bah! Everyone knows troll children are trained in the grand arts of capoeira and limbo from the youngest age! Bona fide little squidies. Not to mention, I happen to have been trained directly by my uncle Dabla, one of our greatest champions; it would appear bureaucrats are real big on limbo.” “You learn some more every day.” Kaos sighed. But the Deconstructor was but one enemy among many others, and they still had a long way to go; as for Zek, he had already forgotten about Dibz's surprising feat. He could only think of one thing: Yogg'saron, and the formula he had to find for... “Synapse.” The hunter sighed. “How are you faring?” * Zul'drak * “I suppose I'm not quite there yet, am I?” “Had you been as motivated in learning what I have to teach you as you are gifted at making euphemisms, we would have finished some time ago.” The feline god replied. “Yeah, and your progress in sarcasm is pretty astounding too.” “Quiet, or it's no meals for three days!” The rhino threatened. “Aaack! That's not fair: you're gods, and gods don't eat!” “So? Aren't you supposed to be a 'goddess' yourself?” the serpent gloated. I pouted. These gods were seriously getting on my nervous system. And to think that the others were off on adventures while I was stuck here, studying stupid methods taught by trollish freaks. I should have just plain asked Gaïa to craft me a couple extra demon stones, which definitely worked better than these impossible rituals. Speaking of which: where is Gaïa? Wasn't she supposed to be doing something at the other end of Northrend? Like that draft-dodger, Ehmb. And speaking of him, what is he up to? * Over on Ehmb's side * It had been a long time since Ehmb and his wife had last been together and alone in a room. After everything that had happened, Isabella had taken her husband to her room so that he could get some rest, considering the pathetically exhausted look on his face. As a very weary Ehmb flopped into a kodo-hide armchair, the kind the orcs were so keen on, Isabella brought some tea she had just made. Among her many qualities, Ehmb's wife made the most delicious tea, a delicacy even to the withered taste buds of the Forsaken, but Ehmb was in no mood for making compliments. Isabella therefore took it upon herself to break the ice. “Considering the raging temper the queen was in, I have no doubt we'll be home in no time. She and Thrall should have no difficulty in reclaiming the Undercity.” “The Undercity isn't the problem.” Ehmb answered, depressed. “After this betrayal, no one will ever trust the Forsaken again. Even Thrall is soon going to be fed up with us.” “And? We've always been frowned upon. We've always been ostracized. Take our very name: 'Forsaken'. Doesn't that say it all? We won't see much of a difference anyway: the living will always be fearful of the dead, no matter what.” “Sometimes I think to myself that we should have stayed dead on that day. Not that we every had a choice.” Isabella slammed her cup of tea on the coffee table and thumped her fist on her armrest, obviously annoyed. “Oh, enough with your constant whining already! You're too old to always be moaning over your fate! Humph... and I was hoping you'd have improved on that with that new girlfriend of yours.” “My girlfriend?” Ehmb asked, surprised. “Yeah, that human girl, what was her name again? Simpase?” “Synapse.” “Whatever. At least she seemed to have cheered you up. Come of think of it, I think it would be appropriate for me to be a bit jealous.” “You have scores of admirers all over the Undercity, I think I'm allowed to have a female friend. And I insist: she's just a friend, nothing else.” Isabella raised an eyebrow, surprised. Ehmb usually quailed whenever she had anything to reproach him with. His near-sarcastic tone sounded quite odd to her. “A human girl then? Quite unsurprising coming from you. Still trapped in your bloody nostalgia.” “Nostalgia of a time when we were alive and happy. A time when you loved me.” “Sorry, but you're wrong there.” Disturbed, Ehmb raised his head and looked at his wife. With a panicked look in his eyes, he asked for some clarification, which she gave. “I didn't love you back when we were alive.” “But...” “I was young and foolish. To be frank, all I wanted was someone who would take me far away from that boring life of mine. Oh, and I confess: that nobility title of yours was quite the extra perk.” “Then, you mean you never...” “What I mean is that back then, we didn't know each other: there was no way we could really be in love. It was only later on, after our marriage, after our death, that I truly got to know you and love you.” “R... really? You really don't regret who I used to be?” “Not in the least! Who could ever regret that arrogant simpleton? I very much prefer you the way you are now: calm, devoted and considerate. That's why I'll never regret having become Forsaken, because it made you into the man you are.” Ehmb kept quiet for some time after hearing that, his mouth still gaping in awe with an astounded look on his face. His mind was racing, and most of what he had thought about everything until now had collapsed in a second. Then, he got up. “Where are you off to?” Isabella asked. “I'm going to make you proud of me. And proud of being Forsaken.” “I already am, my love.” “Then I'll do it just for me.” “Spoken like a true Forsaken!” With renewed confidence swelling inside him, Ehmb left and marched off towards the nearest zeppelin. A large task awaited him: revenge. * Malykriss * “No, honestly, I find this difficult to believe.” Krull raised his head towards the person who had just spoken to him, shot her one of his unique dark glares, and kept on climbing, ignoring her completely. “No, I mean, seriously. I've been home for barely a minute, and who do I run into? A one-armed rogue climbing up Malykriss and who has already reached the flight deck. And speaking of flight, how is this even possible? Malykriss doesn't even touch the ground!” “Me jump from mountain.” “Are you serious? That has to be either the bravest, either the dumbest thing I've ever seen.” “And who you be?” Krull asked, shoving the hooves of the unknown woman who was standing in his way to the side. “Call me Lust, my darling. And apart from the joys of mountain-climbing, what brings you up here? I should warn you that Greed doesn't take well to people trespassing around here.” Krull stretched his mechanical arm, its powerful fingers digging into the flying fortress' stone walls. The rogue's powerful muscles did the rest of the job, heaving him a few inches higher. It was quite obvious Krull had been doing this for quite some time now. “Me looking for Xzan. Me have two or three things me want to say to her.” “Really now? Because, you know, you don't really look like the communicating type of guy.” “You stop being in my way or me start mass slaughter!” “Oh, alright then. Come on, grab my whip, I'll pull you up.” After hesitating for a bit, Krull stretched out his valid hand and caught hold of the succubus' whip, using it to heave himself up to the platform. While he was at it, Krull put all his weight on the whip for just a brief moment, and judging by the way the succubus stumbled, he concluded that, by death knight standards at least, she wasn't very strong. Giving the succubus a contemptuous sigh, Krull did a few quick stretches to relax his muscles after the climb, and completely ignoring the surrounding guards, which stares were going from Lust to him and back, clearly not knowing what to do, he headed towards the corridors. Lust stepped in. “Xzan... she's that little white-haired slut Sloth dragged in, right? I can show you the way to her quarters.” “Good. Forward.” “Whoa there, hold your horses, she isn't going anywhere! Oh, and by the way, next time, use the teleporting pod, your little climb there left quite a few dents on the side of Malykriss, Greed is going to ballistic. I really hope we don't run into him, or into Wrath either for that matter, he's in a terrible mood today. “Me know Wrath.” “Really? Why am I not surprised?” Lust strode through the corridors, finally reaching a large, finely-wrought door, which was probably the entrance to the officers' quarters. The door opened itself as she reached it, revealing a large room in the middle of which was a table, a table laden with a small mountain of food, which seemed to make the succubus feel sick. “Oh, I had forgotten. Hey! Couldn't you do that in your room?” A small face with red hair appeared from behind a pile of roast chickens, looking rather irritated. “My room is too small! And besides, I'll do what I like! And who exactly is that, with you?” “No idea, he just got here. He wants to 'see' Xzan.” A frail, womanly figure rose from the table and strode up to Krull. The girl – because it was indeed a girl – was a small, human redhead, her freckles nearly invisible, with large blue eyes. She had a curious and harmless expression on her face, completely at odds with her death knight armor, which nevertheless fitted her perfectly. “Hello. I'm Gluttony. Pleased to meet you.” Even Krull's stiff upper lip nearly budged. The one who had just called herself Gluttony was even slimmer than Xzan, and despite the ungodly amounts of food she seemed to be stuffing down her throat, he couldn't spot a hint of fat on her. After having encountered a couple of 'fingers', Krull had expected Gluttony to be some obese orc, or a dwarf. Seeing the perplexed look on his face, Gluttony said: “Yes, I know what I look like. Don't worry, this is my real body. As for the chow, I'm enjoying as much of it as I can because I'm in the middle of a regression phase, the only one during which I can eat without having any problems.” “Regression?” “Oh, yes, it's actually quite simple. You see, my power allows me to-” The door swung open once more, and another female death knight, an orc with a very worried look on her face, came in. “Envy?” Said Lust, surprised. “Well, well, well, the three female officers of Malykriss are reunited, what an occasion!” “What is he doing here?” Envy spat. “Do the others-” “- the others don't know a thing.” Lust reassured her. “Our friend just got here and I'm counting on you not to say anything to Greed before he's gone.” Envy was growing more worried by the second, and kept on taking uneasy glances at Krull. Not really understanding anything of what was going on around him, Krull chose to do what he usually did: not utter a word. Eventually, Envy drew a deep breath and explained. “His name is Krull, and he's one of Synapse's companions. Sloth must not know he's here, or else he'll start obsessing all over again. Greed and Pride shouldn't be told either, they're too obsessed with security. As for Wrath, it would be even worse, because when we sent him on his mission against Synapse, he found himself actually evenly matched with Krull; the only reason Krull lost was because of Xzan, so Wrath will probably be thirsty for revenge.” “Then it's a deal: we all promise not to tell the guys anything, right Gluttony?” “Whatever you say.” The young death knight answered, helping herself to an entire ham. “Oh gods, this thing is delicious!” “By the looks of it, one would think you haven't eaten in months!” “That would be precisely because I haven't eaten in months! Do you have any idea when my last fractionation was? Because I honestly don't! Thank Arthas for that last battle. munch” Lust and Envy glanced at each other; they obviously agreed on the fact that Gluttony was laying waste to what little dignity the death knights had left. Krull decided to remind them of his presence by giving a small cough. “Forgive Gluttony and her manners.” Said Lust. “Her powers are most peculiar indeed; but let's go and find Xzan, I'll tell you about them on the way there.” And explain she did. Gluttony was, hands down, the strangest of the death knights. One should know that among the death knights, some are blood knights, and are usually capable of turning their enemies' blood into obedient creatures: blood worms. Gluttony, in a way, had taken that power to the extreme. Whenever Gluttony eats or, much better, absorbs human blood during a battle, her body has an unusual reaction. Whether she wants it or not, once she's absorbed a certain quantity, Gluttony starts spewing worms that feed of anything they find around, bodies included. The worms then start swelling in size little by little, until becoming a large cocoon. The whole thing takes a mere few minutes. And then, the cocoon opens up, and out pops a perfect replica of Gluttony, armed to the teeth and entirely under the original's power. A perfect clone, capable of doing the very same thing. By know, you'll have realized that Gluttony is the bulk of the “fingers”' army. While her gifts for combat were, despite her best efforts, sub-par for a death knight, the girl's gift for exponential reproduction made her a true weapon of death. On a field of battle strung with bodies, Gluttony could, in mere minutes, become hundreds, thousands. That is what she referred to by “fractionation”. However, there was one major drawback which made things very difficult for her. Her clones didn't die. Assuming they weren't killed in battle, their lifespan was exactly the same as that of Gluttony, who quickly realized that a mortal couldn't afford to split its mind among too many bodies for too long. As long as her clones were alive, Gluttony slowly lost consciousness, as her conscience was diluted among too great a quantity of clones, like too little butter scraped over too much bread. If no measures were taken, this would lead to losses of memory, headaches, a coma, and eventually, death. It was therefore necessary to get rid of those clones, the phase Gluttony called “Regression”, and during which she couldn't make any extra clones. “Which is why we send them to Ulduar to get slaughtered.” Dumbfounded, Krull nevertheless looked like he had something to ask. “Why don't they just commit plain and simple suicide instead?” Lust guessed. “Quite simply because Gluttony believes suicide to be sin; yeah, she's a tad stupid. And by the way, I find that Ulduar has been more than patient with her, I mean after all we're supposed to be on the same side. I don't know, maybe they've taken a taste to killing her on a large scale. We've recently shipped them a huge amount of clones, leftovers from the Wrathgate battle.” “Me not see battle.” “Well, neither did we actually. We got there when it was practically over, there wasn't much left to see, apart from bodies all over the place. Now I'd like to explain a power that is more relevant to our current situation. Envy?” “Lust! Why are you telling him all this?” Lust shrugged her shoulders and pointed at Krull with a stern look on her face. Envy grudgingly took off her glove, sighed, and extended the rogue her hand. “I've no concerns regarding Krull.” Lust said. “After all, we have everything wee need to ensure things go smoothly. And besides, if this guy is though enough, in his regular state, to take on Wrath, then just imagine if he became a death knight.” “Me not want to be death knight, me want to see Xzan.” “Yeah sure, we got that part already.” Lust answered. “Now, be a good boy and give Envy your hand, there.” Despite the fact this was starting to get on his nerves, Krull put his hand in Envy's. Her eyes suddenly went white for a brief instant, and she said: “He's not lying: he really is here to see Xzan and to talk to her.” “What? Just a talk?” Lust said, disappointed. “Considering the guy, I thought that 'talk' was some kind of euphemism for 'kill'! Oh well.” “She oracle?” Asked Krull. “No, she's not an oracle.” Sighed Lust, who had now lost all interest in the conversation. “Envy, like her name suggests, wants to be and have what others are and have so badly that she can put herself in anyone's position, in their mind. And no, she doesn't read minds, if that's what's worrying you; she does, however, guess intents. This has two advantages: first off, in a fight, she knows to which side you're going to dodge for example; second, after a thorough inspection, like the one she just gave you, she can actually know things you haven't decided yet.” Unnerved, Krull removed his hand from Envy's, who seemed to be avoiding looking at him. Lust didn't give him any more time to ask questions; she was obviously in a hurry to get this over with now. “Very well.” Said Lust. “Xzan's room is behind this door. Have a nice 'chat' then, I hope you have a lot of things to tell her.” The rogue shrugged, and with no further ado, pushed open the designated door. The room he was now looking at was empty. He took one step forward and realized, albeit too late, that there was nothing to actually support his weight: his foot went clear through the floor, along with his legs and the rest of his body. He was falling clear through the fortress. Before he knew it, he was falling, and could hear Lust laughing from above. Spinning, he saw that the room had been no more than an illusion: the door he had opened actually led to a balcony, and something had made him see a room where there actually was only emptiness. Furious at himself for having made such a mistake, Krull shouted every last curse he knew at the Succubus, who had so clearly led him straight into a trap. She, for one, had been cautious not to reveal her powers too soon. As Krull realized he was getting dangerously close to the ground, he started contemplating what options he had left to not end up a bloody blot at the bottom of a crater. After all, like the goblin zeppelin companies say: it's not how you fall that counts, it's how you land. Krull started hacking at his mechanical arm, ripping off the steel coverings, and trying to locate a small inner mechanism, a trigger hidden deep inside, behind many a cog. He found it and pulled it. A few yards from the ground, the canon built into his arm detonated, the blast sending Krull flying back up, and eventually landing a bit further away, with no great harm. His head still spinning, Krull got up and took a look at the crater he had just dug. He realized that the blast had opened up a crevice of some kind, in which he could spot a few earth and dust-covered figures. “Oh, hi there Krull.” Said Liven, her pick still in her hand.

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