After the wedding
Varuul watched in disgust as the two forsaken left the ceremony. To think that Deacon Cabot would lower himself to marriage with that witch. He had no time for the petty prejudices shared by many about warlocks and the forsaken, let them summon their demons and experiment with their plagues, it didn't matter in the end when the ultimate balance would put right their corruption. Their actions were meaningless as those of anyone else when Death took them.
But this Council of Nagarash were different. They were not content to summon demons and congratulate themselves for being so impressively evil, as other warlocks were. This was a group with a purpose, their demonology was not the final goal for them, it was the means to some nefarious end. Something that could cause catastrophic damage to nature itself, and he was the only one who could see it! He, natures right hand, guardian of the balance would have to stop these fools alone if necessary! The rest of the Praetoria, crying and cheering with happiness at the unnatural union of the deacon and the witch disgusted him. Could they not see that she was using him as a pawn in her schemes? To accomplish what all the efforts of the alliance could not, and place a spy in their ranks!
He looked across the plateau of the colossal, and met the gaze of the enemy in their midst. The warlock Shiryou glared back at him, hatred burning in his eyes. "I know what you plot, Warlock," Varuul thought to himself "and you cannot succeed with me as your opponent."
The happy ocassion of a wedding with its celebratory pomp and jovial splendour was not an environment to which Corposant was accustomed. Anyone watching would know this in an instant as the undead shuffled his feet, stifled a yawn and looked for a quick escape.
But the warlock had given his word that he would attend, and so here he was.
The ceremony had been arranged to join in matrimony Cabot and some magician from the Council of Nagarash. It seemed wholly political to Corposant. Could trivial bonds of love really be behind this. 'Pah', the aged Warlock muttered. 'We are Forsaken', he thought, 'we have lived long enough to know that love dies over time. Of course humans, with their short lives put great store in these 'eternal' bonds. But for the undead, eternity is much more than three score years and ten.'
Corposant blinked and noticed that the wedding had begun. The priest named Deacon was binding the two in wedlock with a ring. 'Binding,' Corposant mused. 'What can they know of binding.' This Council of Nagarash with its wizards and conjurers. What do they know of the evil that they toy with?
Corposant found it difficult to tolerate other warlocks. True power could never be shared. It had been many months since Corposant had walked out of a long forgotten tomb. In that time he had begun to rediscover much of his former self. Memories of the great acts of carnage he had committed had flooded back. It was testament to his will that he had not fallen into insanity at the recollection of such deeds. But now he...
Corposant shuddered, then startled came back to his senses The air was now charged with magic, as a Tauren druid gave his blessing to the congregation in the name of the Earth Mother.
'Hmmm,' he thought to himself. This Council of Nagarash has much to prove and if this union is political then I shall watch with cautious eyes. Many do not trust warlocks and their suspicians are well placed. I will be patient.
The ritual over, Corposant appluaded the couple then turned and quietly walked away.
Shiryou had cared little for the marriage itself; other than that it was what the Lady Quiraa, his warlock master, had wanted. He saw it as a marriage of convienience, meant as a symbolic gesture of the union between the two guilds. Perhaps the Lady Quiraa was allowing herself to be a little....carried away with it all, but she was the wisest of the Nagarashians, and she knew what she was doing.
Shiryou knew that he could not be counted as one of the wisest of the Council, but he certainly knew exactly what he was doing.
His movement into the Praetoria was no accident; no sudden whim to honour the Council (although, it had to be said he would rather die again than disgrace them). No; what it had done was to bring him much closer to the mage. Shiryou was not sure whether to dislike the mage or to respect him; his view towards the elder waivered depending on how their most recent meeting passed. But he knew that the mage - and the priest had slighted him in the past.
And here he was, most perfectly positioned to act upon it.
A carefully positioned hand hid the sly smirk that was creeping across his face, but not his narrowing golden eyes. They met those of the tauren druid; the one who had been voicing hostility towards the union with his warrior friend since the start. The smile vanished instantly as Shiryou gauged the Tauren, a new foe. It did not take a brains to figure that any action of his would be under great scrutiny under the druid's eyes, andone who looked as if he held a great deal of respect amongst his tribe. The undead rubbed his chin thoughtfully. If he was going to act; then it would have to be with great caution.
The smile returned to his face as he looked away and the proceeedings continued. As they came to a close, however, and he prepared to join the party to Gadgetzan, he found the massive body of the Tauren blocking his path.
"Watch your back, warlock," the beast rumbled under his breath.
"Watch your own, druid," Shiryou murmured back, stalking past him and towards the portal to Thunderbluff.
Indeed. He would have to act with great care around this one.
"Talk about dwelling in the past" the orc thought to himself.
The dead now direct the paths of the living.
His own life had been under undead leadership for months now and he fancied he knew the forsaken as well as any living.
Letting his eyes wander over the windswept hilltop , the orc regarded the grass dancing in the breeze ,the fragrance of flowers seeking the favor of buzzing insect even here so high above ground. The pond made a slight plopping sound proving to him there were fish there.
Then the capricious wind chaanged and a new odor wafted in his direction.
Sulphur and rot..
In front of him hunched the dead engaged in a macabre rendition of a human bonding ritual. Priest , Groom , bride .. maids and best man.. all dead.
Dressed up in torn garments that once were fine clothing, the Deacon himself looked as if he was wearing the suit he was buried in.
The orc released a heartfelt and deep sigh. Like most he sought some stability and continuation. A home and a future.
He collected himself and once again tried to reconcile himself with the disturbing scene.
"It is normal to revere the dead" he muttered to himself.
What if Orgrim Doomhammer would rise from his grave and clasp hands with his pupil Thrall..
Would he congratulate his one time protege.. or wrest control from him and become the war chief himself once again..
No, that didn't seem to help him to feel any better.
Revering the great heroes after their death was one thing.. having them stick around after their demise.. something completely different.
Children grow up and seek their own accomplishments.. they can't be held back.
It is normal for the living to be uneasy near to the undead.. perfectly normal
He could cope with them existing and working with them, but they cling to too much power.. they seek too much control.
And worse, these undead are warlocks.
He had always despised warlocks.
"Orcs know warlocks" he muttered to himself.. "better then anyone"
He himself had seen what warlocks and demon trafficking will reap.
True , he had only recently come of age and was among the forst orcs born on Azeroth , but he had only to look to his parents for the tales.
Not that such was needed .. He remembered the internment camps.
Seeing what the taint did to his kin. what was left when it faded..
Their world destroyed.. and with it the spirits of their ancestors.
the spirits.. were not they also undead of sorts.
Dead but remaining.. perhaps the dead and the living can co-exist in a way.
If only these were not so.. dominating in life.. the spirits are quiet and watching .. you seek them out and ask for guidance, but they do not interfere.
This human ceremony is certainly chilling .. unless this priest is adding his own personal touch to it.
The Orc had already seen one undead leader succumb to internal demons and some debilitating lethargy , and now the new leader was showing some questionable judgement.
The orc had once met with the Banshee queen and the despiccable Varimathras, and there was no doubt in his heart. they were both creatures of darkest evil.
But he had met some evvil orcs too.. orc warlocks.
In fact there was one here too, not far away at all.
This Orc had always feared fury, knowing it was through blood fury the orcs were controlled. But fury welled up in him now, his knuckles paling as he clenched his fish at his side.. in control still , but yearning for his axe.
Right and Wrong .. Good or Bad .. so hard to tell sometimes.
Politics , cooperation, friendship and debt.. Loyalty
Confusion battled the rage and the orc sighed once again
"At least I can conclude this.. I am no good at weddings"