Confessions

“I fear if she keeps denying herself under the excuse of disposition its only going to further her own perceptions of lesser self-worth to the point of inadequecy. What was once truth will be made lies.” The orb in his hands glowed brilliantly. “…Breaking something to it’s core, that one may build it back up is a gambit… but one that ensures proper course for immediate years to follow…Taught through feelings alone…”

I’m not entirely sure how I should feel at the moment. I’ve just painted the largest target upon my back in striking a falsified accord with a greater Demonness, and for what? I stand to gain absolutely nothing in this venture. True I may have manipulated her into revealling a secret greater still, but it does not directly stand to service me so much as Astoreth herself. Regardless of whatever has been acquired, there is little doubt that I definetly have her eye. While she seethes in a corner, now infuriated or perplexed with my actions, I now prepare my resources for the coming day that she seeks me for a definitive contract. The demon never lies, and never fails to collect upon an arrangement. I wonder if it applies to those that weren’t technically arranged or commited to via arcane pact. Maybe she’d seen the folly of it.

“Well played.”

Or I’ve unintentionally empowered Astoreth with the direct means to undo me. Which should only hasten my more immediate plans with the Kor’Kron, Magistrate and Alliance officials. To this end I’ll be going to ground and providing the Duskflame-Firewing kin much desired space as I further my investigations. So long as they avoid me, I’ll keep from throwing unwanted attention their way. Especially with this purge that has been alluded to of late; Fel-Weavers are going to be a very rare breed in coming days. A delightful proposition indeed. Cast in iron, suspended from ropes, secrets put to rest. Let them writhe in the fear and pain they invoke so regularly. I pray it lasts an eternity.

The only downside to this exchange however, begs the question as to what would prompt Garrosh to make this bold move, eliminating formidable ‘bishops’ upon the chessboard. With what does he intend to replace them with? Surely he couldn’t be -that- foolish as to just cut and burn away at pacts forged of necessity without having surpassed the need. Time will only serve to tell, and I think it has something to do with these twisted ‘Dark Shaman’ I continue to hear tell of within the ranks of the Kor’Kron Legion, twisting at the supposed ‘elements’ that pervade the region of Kalimdor. I’ve notice no such fluctuations in the flows of mana. Perhaps they are simply to far behind the educational curve and voice unsettled stomaches. Still, t’is not something to dismiss outright.

There is also the matter of the nearly finished Iron Juggernaut, that mechanical monstrocity of a Skorpid. Hot coals burned from it’s mouth like an inferno within the depths of the Molten Core, it’s eyes flared red as if fueled by the rage of the Orcish people. When it moved, the steel and molten metal screeched as if a thousand banshee’s singing in a rage. I could scarcely keep from pressing my palms against my ears, such was my duress. They’ve begun to finalize it’s weaponry. I can only guess at how long this might take. And what of the pacts said to be at work with Klaxxi forces? The Mantid are a force to be reckoned with, surely, but to what ends would Garrosh achieve alligning with those numbered amongst the ‘lesser races’ of the world? Then there is the matter of the Mogu artifacts said to be unearthed and smuggled within the confines of Orgrimmar that I’ve yet to discern. My ‘retainers’ continue to harass me for more and more clarity, seemingly without the realization that such things take time and we’ll never possess the full picture until the final curtain draws from our machinations.

The excavations in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms have stepped up security, and it seems as if they’ve made arrangements to ship something from within to the homelands. This is an object of great concern for me, as there has been absolutely nothing indicating what this bauble could be. It is exceptionally rare for the Orcish kin to retain secrets to well and to such degrees that I can’t even ascertain the size and scope of this creation that they seem to revere. I will write to Silvermoon proposing the application of a second mana-bomb if it reveals itself as a genuine threat. The only thing demonstrated with pristine clarity is an exchange of hats. The Kor’Kron are slowly usurping the post of the regular guardsmen and defenders of the realm. The imposed martial law only continues to grow tighter, and the individuals within the walls of the fortress city only grow even more restless. It has become a boiling pot of water, threatening to overflow.

The financial holdings of the Goblins are being siezed by the nation of Orgrimmar, and committed to funding the growing warmachine that is the Horde. Naturally they’ve their own protests, but those that have spoken out so far haven’t been seen walking straight for some time. I imagine t’is only a question of days until the Kor’Kron assume possession of the banks and their holdings, private or public. Sequestrations to an extreme, I imagine. Though as the saying goes ‘When in doubt, liquidate’ or in the case of rebels; liberate. As they’ve increased their supplies tenfold since their raiding parties began to ambush the Horde supply lines running the length of the Gold Road. Word reaches me that they have now begun to construct siege weapons of their own, in hopes of toppling the walls of Orgrimmar. This is a pleasing turn of events, as it means they’ll have a dedicated front, rather than the appearance a fool-hardy distraction.

“Well if I ran about screaming ‘REVELATION!’ at the top of my voice, people’d think I was trying to peddle holy texts.”

The only other issue that presents itself before my eyes would be the growing distrust between the Regent Lord and Dark Lady. This gap has presented itself first when we were ‘coerced’ into committing numbers we didn’t have into the region of Northrend, and only widened. The time is rapidly approaching when it may become necessary to end her and her entire misbegotten ‘race’. The second-coming of the Lich King is all I see when I look upon her visage… And I am not alone in my musings.

With the Horde now dedicated to a Northrend campaign, Lady Sylvanas and a group of Royal Dreadguards travelled to Sunfury Spire to gain the support of the blood elves towards the war effort. She was met by her old comrade, Lor’themar Theron, Regent Lord of Quel’Thalas, along with Grand Magister Rommath and the current Ranger-general of Silvermoon, Halduron Brightwing. Sylvanas instructed Lor’themar to send a force of blood elves — magisters, Farstriders and Blood Knights — to Northrend, though Lor’themar was apprehensive, reasoning that he had only just overcome the war on Quel’Danas. Sylvanas noted that the blood elves are a part of the Horde only by her hand, and that if they do not mobilize they would surely lose its support – and Forsaken support in their lands.

With his arm twisted, Lor’themar relented, and agreed to send a contingent of blood elves to the Undercity. Sylvanas prepared to leave, though Rommath was outraged at this turn of events. He threw Sylvanas’ offers of aid back at her, stating that the situation was blackmail. Sylvanas informed him that all she desired was the strength to defeat their greatest foe – and that moreover, her offers were just that – offers. Lor’themar quickly ended their conversation, and Sylvanas’ eyes flashed for the briefest of moments at his Thalassian farewell. She silently left.”

In The Shadow of the Sun by Sarah Pine–    *Initially a FanFic; later adopted by Blizzard as the Official Lore.*

Once again, a larger display of the destablizing negotiations between our two factions played out during the initial counsel preceding the events of the Mana Bomb Incident. The images are yet fresh in my mind, and eat away at memory to this day. But so vividly do I recall the amusement I felt when the tables had been turned and Sylvanas pleaded in turn for our ears, asking for Lor’themar to reinforce her claims that the Eastern holdings of the Horde might be threatened if the Alliance began to lose their footing upon Kalimdor, only to be swatted away without so much as the slightest grace of thought. I’d have laughed were the whole situation not so perversely mind-wrenching in terms of our prior arrangements in attempting to garner a truce with the province of Stormwind. Garrosh however, gave his blessings that any reprisal would be swiftly attended. Begrudgingly, she dispatched one Captain Farley, who had initially been quite critical of the Horde strategists and detested the use of the mana bomb.

He was later “cremated” upon what remains of the Razor Hill inn, alongside our own Sin’dorei representative; Kelantir Bloodblade. Both were documented as having fallen in battle. Only a few are privvy to the responsible party. Malkorok. This Blackrock Orc is one of Garrosh’s inner circle and nearly as radical in belief and actions as the Warchief himself. While it is an unspoken fact, this peon is responsible for nearly half the disapearances within Orgrimmar, and more than half of the bruised eyes. His very presence is cause enough for many to bite their already bloodied lips. If anything else, it occurs to my mind this one is the true face of Hellscream’s Horde, and he makes no attempts to veil that brutality, going so far as to use the Kor’Kron to his own ends. Nothing more than petty indulgances for petty minds. I pray that his is a slow and deserved death.

“We’re all burning to death in this inferno called the Horde. We look to the skies and scream out as if mentally deficient children without a means of further action. When in reality the solution stands right before our simple minded faces.”

The detachment to which I’m assigned to has taken up post within Desolation Hold and I’ve now the perfect posture through which to make the open alterations. The Kor’Kron is in possession of names and descriptions, and I think to some degree I’ve garnered the trust of the High Warlord of our contingent through the ‘sacrifice’ of the rebellious elements in Orgrimmar, and my outward appearance of loyalty unfettering. I take his ear in moments of privacy; though quite infrequently. I think to some degree I’ve his trust or at the very least his blessing. This is fortunate for the accusations of treason have been levied against me by Zepsi Kola. Though with the Scrying Orb in my possession and with my position being prone to rumor and conjecture I think her simple recording will be put to shame. I know that Jhaz will stand in my defense certainly, despite the fact that he was one of my earlier failures in attempting to debilitate the Horde’s forces. I am thankful that providence works in such curious ways. The only affairs left to tender are a direct meeting with the Sin’dorei female I assume to be managing the southern forces.

SI:7 continues to harass me to the point of bothersome conjecture. I profess false information more frequently amongst their ranks to stir the pot. I do not hate the Alliance, but they grow increasingly bothersome with their impatience. I suppose that is a Human trait, however. They do not have the luxury of time. Something I myself can appreciate; However it is often a necessary practice. Perhaps they will learn in time of their folly. Still they’ve kept a great distance from the Kor’Kron and myself in physical presence. They honor their bargains, at the very least. I pray for a swift return to the negotiations that we were forced to depart from, but with tensions as they are I think it to be nearly impossible, even if with a successful conclusion to his little insurrection. They’ve promised a hand in the invasion of Orgrimmar. I hope that their leadership does not conflict with our own, as is so often wont to happen.

“Worry not; your passing only marks the begining of something greater than any one individual spared the grace of a clean death could represent. Rest now, you’ve earned your place in delivering this rune blade into my hands.”

I’ve expanded my collection of runeblades to seven now. I do not imagine it will be much longer before I’ve what I need to empower Orpheus and re-awaken it’s true potential. I will need the original conception if I hope to play my part upon warfare of this scale. The energies of life, provided by the soulstone at the base of the hilt. The enchantments of mana resonating throughout the sword, to cut a blazing path through the fields of battle. The unbridled and raw power of runic energies provided by the deathly powers yet retained within the collection of blades. With these I’ll have a weapon worthy of the title Orpheus, worthy of the Ashen Verdict’s first iteration of power. Worthy of the very blade that was my salvation. Worthy of being the true voice of fate! A blade of such great design that only the unholy hands that forged Frostmourne could hope to match… Though I am constantly reminded that is but aspiration and conjecture. Though one thing is certain beyond these musings. Selanda craves this creation like none other, and I’ve not finished in my good work. Whom else will it draw in pursuit? What else will it lure forth? …What might be garnered of it?

Selanda twisted at the knob to an ornate music box sitting along the corner of a collection within the recesses of Anetho’s vault and sactuary. A calming melody filling the air, twisting the flows of ley as if to invoke peaceful thoughts in the lesser minded.

“Day to night~ Life to death~ Lure me to lullaby~ In my arms~ With grace fly~ Our lives intertwine~” The Succubus sang with a hauntingly beautiful voice, moving to examine the enchanted pedestal which harbored Orpheus when not in Anetho’s possession. She reached out to touch it, only to be met with the scalding wards in place burning her palms as if reaching into a roaring fire pit. “Deliver me~ Thy longing plea~ Our hearts as one~ Gift us now~ Your burning flame~ Our love so true~” She gripped at her right hand, rubbing at it curiously. “Your wishes – my whims~ Your smiles – my bliss~”

Fel Green eyes watched from the balcony above, Anetho’s figure veiled in shadows of the midnight sky. “Take my hands~ journey forth~ Find our hearts~ Claim our souls~ Without such we’ll fall all al-one~” He clapped his hands along each other as if mocking her, in such slow succession. “Night to day~ Life to death~ Awake this slumbering dream~ Fant-a-sies~ Fluttering grace~ Our lives fall – undone~ All my wishes~ All your whims~ Not a smile~ Nor gracious rest~” She stared up at him now, folding her arms as it was his turn to make a mock serenade of her fancies. “Divergent paths~ splintered desires~ Our hearts wither! Chase after me~ My soul – Fantasy! Not one to claim-a-throne! Song to ballad – Lullaby to sonata~ Not one with purpose~ Abandon ye hope~ All who ent-er~”

It was Selanda’s turn to make a mocking gesture of approval at his serenade, as the last note of the box sounded with a ‘click’ and all was silent once more. For moments, they stared at each other. “…Do you think Sresstra can sing?”

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~ by anethodawnpride on June 25, 2013.

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Nobody's Blade

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Dark Intent

Well, that floor is not going to tank itself.

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