Malandrae was bored. So
terribly terribly bored. She'd read half of her spellbooks again to pass
the time. She'd studied each of the pictures that Professor Knox kept
hanging in her bedroom. She'd gotten to the point where she'd counted
the individual threads lining one edge of the sheets covering her, and
now she'd run out of things to do entirely.
Being sick was no fun at all.
Well, she wasn't technically sick, she more felt worn down. As she lay in Professor Knox's bed (the bed that Florinai had insisted she use since it was larger and more comfortable), she realized that the draenei that had healed her was probably right; she DID need a day or two in bed to recover. Having never experienced blood loss before, the entire situation was a mystery to the Highborne, so she sighed and lay in bed and was bored with a capital 'B'.
She looked over to the nightstand beside the bed where she'd stacked a half-dozen books that she'd already read and sighed. There was nothing new to do there, except.... she reached out and picked up a small silver box, opening it gently. One of Professor Knox's music boxes, it was a delicate little thing made by a skilled artisan with love for his craft. Malandrae handled it gently, slowly winding it using the lever on the bottom and listening to the sweet melody it played. She set it down beside her and sighed again, nestling down into the pillows. Perhaps a nap with a soothing song to send her on her way would help. Her silver eyes slipped closed.
*************************
Voices woke her from her rest. Voices that should not be in the Professor's apartment. Her silver eyes opened to the sight of three men, all human, standing over her. They wore dark robes and looked around nervously.
"There she is! There's Knox! Quickly, before she's fully awake!" one of them said.
"I thought Professor Knox was a human...that's an elf..." another muttered.
"Shut up and do it already! She's waking up!"
Before Malandrae could react or even get her eyes focused the rest of the way, one of the three men took a small glowing orb from a pouch and held it up. The object blazed with power, colors sparkling within it and Malandrae immediately felt it connecting with her mind. She tried to look away and found her gaze falling into the glowing depths of the orb, unable to help herself.
"There we are," one of the three men said. "Let the device do it's work. She'll be indoctrinated soon enough. In the meanwhile, I'll get the book and then we'll head back to camp. You two bring Knox with you after she's been enthralled."
With that the man uttered some words and a portal opened within the bedroom. Through the edge of her vision Malandrae dimly was aware that the view through the portal was of a destroyed and charred Twilight's Hammer camp; likely one destroyed in the Twilight Highlands during the campaigns over the summer against their forces. She had little time to focus on this fact as the artifact that was drawing her attention began to whisper to her.
The whispers were incoherent at first, but soon they sent a steady stream of images and words to her. Although she would be unable to explain how, she knew the device was telling her something very important. It showed her a frozen citadel, far away in Northrend and a human man who was standing within it. In the image, the man had died, a horrible wound to his chest laying him low. The whispering voices told Malandrae that she could have him back though, that all she had to do was serve and this man, the man named Tristan, would be returned to her full of life and she could be by his side for the rest of time.
While Malandrae puzzled out what in the heavens this was supposed to mean, she noted in her peripheral vision that the man who had originally given the orders to enthrall her was going through the books stacked on the nightstand. He selected one with a cry of triumph and picked it up. It was just like the one that the Twilight's Hammer had tried to steal before, the dark cover glimmering with dark runes; a compilation of information about leylines.
Or at least that's what it looked like.
Even as the man stepped away from the nightstand and towards the portal, Malandrae muttered something under her breath. Wards blazed to life on the book; the false book she had carefully inscribed to look just like the original. The false book that she had put deadly traps on, traps that would only activate when she uttered the right words so that they would not accidentally detonate within the house or in the hands of an innocent thief. If thieves could be considered innocent.
The man disappeared through the portal and a second later a distant *CRUMP* could be heard as the book he'd stolen was opened and subsequently detonated with an explosion powerful enough to blacken out the image of the Twilight camp in the portal. The two cultists in the room looked at each other grimly, and the one holding the orb up muttered a few words of his own, increasing it's power.
Malandrae gasped as she felt the object pulling at her mind, making her sit upright like a puppet. Even still, the words it whispered meant nothing to her; she had no idea who Tristan was, and despite the fact that it was partially controlling her body, it had yet to actually tempt her with anything that she could not outright ignore. It whispered the words of powerful spells relating to magic, formula drifting through the elf's thoughts as she was offered the keys to unlocking mysteries of the arcane that few now knew.
All of it was of course entirely over Malandrae's head, and her head actually tilted to the side as confusion set over her face, the formula racing through her mind in a jumble of unintelligible numbers and math she simply didn't know how to do.
The cultist using the device got angry as he saw the vapid look on her face. She was clearly not succumbing to it's power, and so he whispered words again, enhancing the spell further, forcibly trying to penetrate the depths of the elf's mind and coerce her into obedience.
"If we can't have you voluntarily, then you will make an excellent slave, Knox," He muttered. "We'll take the knowledge we need from your head. We won't need the book then anyway." He focused, pressing the device's power into Malandrae's subconscious.
The Highborne's eyes flared with silver light as her subconscious lashed out with arcane magic. For the briefest of moments, the cultist holding the orb was connected with Malandrae mind, and saw an image of the elf standing in the middle of a city consumed by a raging inferno, embers and ash drifting down around her and sticking in her hair. The elf in the image turned and looked at him sadly, and then the vision went black as Malandrae's mind clamped down once more.
The orb in the cultist's hand exploded.
Glass shards peppered the two men and they shouted as Malandrae's eyes came back into focus, a look of annoyance on her face now. She sprang out of bed, her sheer nightgown offering little resistance to her movements as she stood upright beside the bed, flames flaring along her fingertips.
"How dare you come into the Professor's house and try to hurt her! You two are going to the stockades! Right now!" Malandrae shouted.
The cultist who had been holding the orb could do little to respond as his hands were clasped over his face, trying to stem the bloodflow from the wounds the glass had inflicted to his eyes and scalp. The other cultist, being a bit junior to the first two, grabbed up a spellbook from his belt and started to chant, flames flickering in his hands.
The novice spellcaster stood no chance against a Highborne sorceress. Flames shot from Malandrae's outstretched hand, burning the man's fingers and making him screech and drop his book. In a panic, he ran and dove through the portal, disappearing into the distant Twilight camp. In a rage now, Malandrage stormed towards the other man, who had cleared the blood from his eyes enough to start chanting on his own. Her hands came out and caressed his face, and instantly flaming embers appeared in the air around them, clinging to his clothing and skin, the Living Bomb spell taking root in his form.
He shouted, eyes wide as he felt the deadly magic adhering to him. He tried to counterspell it but was interrupted when Malandrae grabbed his windmilling arms, twirled him around and shoved him hard through the portal where the other two had gone. Again there was a distant *CRUMP* as the second explosion went off, and this time the blast was strong enough to make the portal flicker and then wink out of existence as its anchor point was fully destroyed.
Alone in the room, Malandrae sighed, bending down to pick up the Twilight spellbook that the burned man had dropped. She looked at it for a moment, studying the runes of fire inscribed on its cover with slight interest. Shrugging, she placed it on her nightstand and nodded; it would be something to do later to combat the boredom.
Even as she thought this, the room started to turn gray, her vision blurring.
"Strange...there's fog inside again," she whispered. Her hands reached out and grabbed the sheets as she slipped from consciousness, the soft covers easily pulled off the bed by her dead weight as she settled on the floor of the bedroom.
A short time later Florinai would return to check on her, only to find the Highborne lying on the hardwood floor, her cyan hair pooled around her and the crumpled sheets still grasped in her unconscious hand. While putting the unconscious elf back in her bed, Flo might wonder why the room smelled of embers and ash, despite the fact that the window was closed.
Being sick was no fun at all.
Well, she wasn't technically sick, she more felt worn down. As she lay in Professor Knox's bed (the bed that Florinai had insisted she use since it was larger and more comfortable), she realized that the draenei that had healed her was probably right; she DID need a day or two in bed to recover. Having never experienced blood loss before, the entire situation was a mystery to the Highborne, so she sighed and lay in bed and was bored with a capital 'B'.
She looked over to the nightstand beside the bed where she'd stacked a half-dozen books that she'd already read and sighed. There was nothing new to do there, except.... she reached out and picked up a small silver box, opening it gently. One of Professor Knox's music boxes, it was a delicate little thing made by a skilled artisan with love for his craft. Malandrae handled it gently, slowly winding it using the lever on the bottom and listening to the sweet melody it played. She set it down beside her and sighed again, nestling down into the pillows. Perhaps a nap with a soothing song to send her on her way would help. Her silver eyes slipped closed.
*************************
Voices woke her from her rest. Voices that should not be in the Professor's apartment. Her silver eyes opened to the sight of three men, all human, standing over her. They wore dark robes and looked around nervously.
"There she is! There's Knox! Quickly, before she's fully awake!" one of them said.
"I thought Professor Knox was a human...that's an elf..." another muttered.
"Shut up and do it already! She's waking up!"
Before Malandrae could react or even get her eyes focused the rest of the way, one of the three men took a small glowing orb from a pouch and held it up. The object blazed with power, colors sparkling within it and Malandrae immediately felt it connecting with her mind. She tried to look away and found her gaze falling into the glowing depths of the orb, unable to help herself.
"There we are," one of the three men said. "Let the device do it's work. She'll be indoctrinated soon enough. In the meanwhile, I'll get the book and then we'll head back to camp. You two bring Knox with you after she's been enthralled."
With that the man uttered some words and a portal opened within the bedroom. Through the edge of her vision Malandrae dimly was aware that the view through the portal was of a destroyed and charred Twilight's Hammer camp; likely one destroyed in the Twilight Highlands during the campaigns over the summer against their forces. She had little time to focus on this fact as the artifact that was drawing her attention began to whisper to her.
The whispers were incoherent at first, but soon they sent a steady stream of images and words to her. Although she would be unable to explain how, she knew the device was telling her something very important. It showed her a frozen citadel, far away in Northrend and a human man who was standing within it. In the image, the man had died, a horrible wound to his chest laying him low. The whispering voices told Malandrae that she could have him back though, that all she had to do was serve and this man, the man named Tristan, would be returned to her full of life and she could be by his side for the rest of time.
While Malandrae puzzled out what in the heavens this was supposed to mean, she noted in her peripheral vision that the man who had originally given the orders to enthrall her was going through the books stacked on the nightstand. He selected one with a cry of triumph and picked it up. It was just like the one that the Twilight's Hammer had tried to steal before, the dark cover glimmering with dark runes; a compilation of information about leylines.
Or at least that's what it looked like.
Even as the man stepped away from the nightstand and towards the portal, Malandrae muttered something under her breath. Wards blazed to life on the book; the false book she had carefully inscribed to look just like the original. The false book that she had put deadly traps on, traps that would only activate when she uttered the right words so that they would not accidentally detonate within the house or in the hands of an innocent thief. If thieves could be considered innocent.
The man disappeared through the portal and a second later a distant *CRUMP* could be heard as the book he'd stolen was opened and subsequently detonated with an explosion powerful enough to blacken out the image of the Twilight camp in the portal. The two cultists in the room looked at each other grimly, and the one holding the orb up muttered a few words of his own, increasing it's power.
Malandrae gasped as she felt the object pulling at her mind, making her sit upright like a puppet. Even still, the words it whispered meant nothing to her; she had no idea who Tristan was, and despite the fact that it was partially controlling her body, it had yet to actually tempt her with anything that she could not outright ignore. It whispered the words of powerful spells relating to magic, formula drifting through the elf's thoughts as she was offered the keys to unlocking mysteries of the arcane that few now knew.
All of it was of course entirely over Malandrae's head, and her head actually tilted to the side as confusion set over her face, the formula racing through her mind in a jumble of unintelligible numbers and math she simply didn't know how to do.
The cultist using the device got angry as he saw the vapid look on her face. She was clearly not succumbing to it's power, and so he whispered words again, enhancing the spell further, forcibly trying to penetrate the depths of the elf's mind and coerce her into obedience.
"If we can't have you voluntarily, then you will make an excellent slave, Knox," He muttered. "We'll take the knowledge we need from your head. We won't need the book then anyway." He focused, pressing the device's power into Malandrae's subconscious.
The Highborne's eyes flared with silver light as her subconscious lashed out with arcane magic. For the briefest of moments, the cultist holding the orb was connected with Malandrae mind, and saw an image of the elf standing in the middle of a city consumed by a raging inferno, embers and ash drifting down around her and sticking in her hair. The elf in the image turned and looked at him sadly, and then the vision went black as Malandrae's mind clamped down once more.
The orb in the cultist's hand exploded.
Glass shards peppered the two men and they shouted as Malandrae's eyes came back into focus, a look of annoyance on her face now. She sprang out of bed, her sheer nightgown offering little resistance to her movements as she stood upright beside the bed, flames flaring along her fingertips.
"How dare you come into the Professor's house and try to hurt her! You two are going to the stockades! Right now!" Malandrae shouted.
The cultist who had been holding the orb could do little to respond as his hands were clasped over his face, trying to stem the bloodflow from the wounds the glass had inflicted to his eyes and scalp. The other cultist, being a bit junior to the first two, grabbed up a spellbook from his belt and started to chant, flames flickering in his hands.
The novice spellcaster stood no chance against a Highborne sorceress. Flames shot from Malandrae's outstretched hand, burning the man's fingers and making him screech and drop his book. In a panic, he ran and dove through the portal, disappearing into the distant Twilight camp. In a rage now, Malandrage stormed towards the other man, who had cleared the blood from his eyes enough to start chanting on his own. Her hands came out and caressed his face, and instantly flaming embers appeared in the air around them, clinging to his clothing and skin, the Living Bomb spell taking root in his form.
He shouted, eyes wide as he felt the deadly magic adhering to him. He tried to counterspell it but was interrupted when Malandrae grabbed his windmilling arms, twirled him around and shoved him hard through the portal where the other two had gone. Again there was a distant *CRUMP* as the second explosion went off, and this time the blast was strong enough to make the portal flicker and then wink out of existence as its anchor point was fully destroyed.
Alone in the room, Malandrae sighed, bending down to pick up the Twilight spellbook that the burned man had dropped. She looked at it for a moment, studying the runes of fire inscribed on its cover with slight interest. Shrugging, she placed it on her nightstand and nodded; it would be something to do later to combat the boredom.
Even as she thought this, the room started to turn gray, her vision blurring.
"Strange...there's fog inside again," she whispered. Her hands reached out and grabbed the sheets as she slipped from consciousness, the soft covers easily pulled off the bed by her dead weight as she settled on the floor of the bedroom.
A short time later Florinai would return to check on her, only to find the Highborne lying on the hardwood floor, her cyan hair pooled around her and the crumpled sheets still grasped in her unconscious hand. While putting the unconscious elf back in her bed, Flo might wonder why the room smelled of embers and ash, despite the fact that the window was closed.
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