Dead Weight

Captain Jonathan Blackwell shook his head, grimacing as he crouched in the dense foliage. One of his soldiers crouched beside him, her gaze affixed on the orcish encampment below, her eyes narrowed in concern. Beside her a Draenei knelt in the soft dirt, his gaze also affixed on the distant encampment. Their mission was going to be a difficult one and extremely dangerous, and wasn't something he relished.

A loud popping noise next to him made him turn and glare angrily at the fourth and last member of their scout team. Serephel Westdale had been 'assigned' to accompany his scout mission over his express objections, and the young woman had been nothing but a burden since they set out. He hissed between his teeth, his voice low, "Are you actually popping gum right now...?"

Serephel tilted her head and offered him a beautiful but vapid smile, nodding quietly at him while the rest of the party turned their attention to her, all of them glaring now. Captain Blackwell's frown deepened and he hissed at her again, "Do you mind?"

Serephel blinked once, her eyes wide as she dug into one of her pouches. She reached towards him, offering him a piece of gum as well, "Oh sure!"

Captain Blackwell wanted to throttle the moron, but he had little choice in the matter. Despite the fact that he'd seen her do nothing except complain about the 'woeful lack of closet space for her shoes' and generally get in the way of the construction activities at their garrison, the garrison commander for some reason stood behind the young noble. He'd even gone so far as to shake his head when Jonathan had first met her and attempted to instruct her on why she shouldn't wear a dress one might wear to a fashionable restaurant out into the field to scout a deadly orc encampment that might have members who were practicing fel magic.

Fortunately, the commander was not here now and he was able to speak more freely, "Put the gum away, now. We're scouting here and can't afford to make any noise. Do you fully understand that, Lady Westdale? Or do I need to draw pictures to explain it to you?"

Behind him the draenei scout they had enlisted muttered something in his native tongue, gesturing at the young noble. Beside Captain Blackwell, the other soldier stirred, translating for the alien who spoke not a wit of Common, "Sir, he says she's bad news and we need to get rid of her."

Serephel blinked a few times, stuffing her extra gum back into a pouch and pouting, "Whatever! I'm totally going to be useful here and besides you can't get rid of me because the commander said so. You don't have to be jerks about it. It's not that big a deal."

Captain Blackwell sighed, a hand coming up to his temples. The entire mission would fail if his team members were fighting, "Lady Westdale, this is a dangerous situation. We have to be very careful and you're making our local scout nervous when you fail to obey common sense strategies. Just...do me a favor and try your very best okay?"

Serephel awarded him with another dazzling smile, nodding happily, "Oh sure, I can do that. But I think it's a waste of time. Those orcs down there definitely know we're here. You guys aren't being careful at all."

Jonathan gave off a deeper, long-suffering sigh as he replied, "Lady Westdale, I assure you we've taken every precaution in our scoutin-"

His words were cut off by a crackle that came from the nearby underbrush. Instantly the entire scouting party tensed, except for Serephel who just had a smug look on her face. Captain Blackwell drew his sword, while his second in command put an arrow on her bowstring and the Draenei scout drew daggers.

Silence fell over the woods around them, Shadowmoon Valley's native creatures sensing that people were moving through the foliage. Jonathan sat in a state of heightened alert, ready for any ambush. Unfortunately, it turned out that Serephel was right, and a loud warcry rose up from the bushes beside them, echoed by additional shouts from the woods all around them. Captain Blackwell jumped up, his sword parrying the first blow from a brutish orc that lurched from the nearby woods, the weapon clanging loudly as it deflected the blow.

Unfortunately a second orc lunged behind him, the haft of its ax connecting solidly with the back of his head. Captain Blackwell felt a stinging pain in his skull as the world blackened around him and he lost consciousness.

**********************************

As he awakened, Jonathan felt a ringing pain in the back of his head. He groaned once, blinking his eyes as fading daylight made him squint. He tried to move, only to find that he was restrained. As he became more aware, he opened his eyes fully, realizing he was tied to a wooden stake, his back against it and his body sitting on the dirt ground before it. Wincing with pain, he turned his head to see the rest of the scouting party similarly tied up, his second in command and the draenei looking somewhat bruised in their faces, likely from rough handling by the orcs.

He groaned again, his voice hoarse as he spoke, "Report..."

His second in command, who was tied to the stake furthest on the other end of the group, croaked out a response, "We've been taken to that camp we were scouting, sir. They interrogated myself and the Draenei. Prissy over here was spared the brunt of their questioning for some reason; likely because she looks useless."

Jonathan frowned, shaking his head to clear it. They were in dire straits, captured by fel-using orcs and lost deep in the forests of Shadowmoon. No one would be coming to rescue them, and it didn't look good.

Just as he thought that, several orcs walked across the dirt clearing before the stakes, bypassing a rough hide tent that was sitting nearby. They walked to the end of the line where Jonathan's second in command was tied up, grinning as they used daggers to hack her bonds. They grabbed her roughly, laughing as she struggled and dragged her away towards a slope of dirt about twenty yards from the group that seemed to dip down into a pit-area that Jonathan couldn't see from his vantage point on the ground.

With the female officer yelling and screaming now, the still-laughing orcs dragged her out of sight, her screams rising up from the pit for a time before finally falling silent. The trio of orcs that had taken her returned from their grizzly work, still grinning as they approached the next in line. Jonathan cursed as Serephel's bonds were hacked loose and she was taken in turn towards the pit. She didn't struggle, seeming to be in a daze as the orcs roughly dragged her out of sight.

Oddly, the sounds of her screams did not rise from the out-of-sight pit in the distance. Jonathan blinked once, glancing at the rather beat up looking Draenei beside him as the sound of orcs yelling came from the pit. Horrified, Jonathan watched as a fine red mist seemed to spray up from the pit, the sound of what could only be cracking bones reaching his ear. The sounds did little to attract the attention of the rest of the encampment, the orcs there being used to horrific rituals and the like.

To Jonathan's everlasting surprise, Serephel stumbled from the sloped pit, her clothing completely covered in gore and a dazed and confused look on her face. She blinked a few times, her nose crinkling as she flicked her arms, trying to get what was obviously not her own blood off her bare skin. She looked down at herself frowning before glancing over at Jonathan.

Captain Blackwell had no idea how the simple-minded woman had managed to escape, but he knew that she was his only chance to get free himself. His voice a low whisper, he hissed at her, "Lady Westdale! Over here! Cut our bonds loose!"

Serephel looked at him for a moment, blinking again before dropping into a crouch. To Jonathan's irritation, she crept across the open dirt clearing, heading for the hide tent nearby and completely ignoring his commands. He hissed again, his voice only slightly louder, "Sssss! Lady Westdale! Come over here immediately! What are you doing?! Are you fucking crazy?!"

Serephel continued to ignore him, disappearing into the tent, the sound of her rummaging around in the structure coming from the hides for a few moments. Jonathan ground his teeth in frustration, wanting to scream at the vapid noblewoman. A moment later, his worst fears were realized as a rather large orc wearing ceremonial robes decorated with what could only be Draenei skulls walked into the clearing from the camp.

He affixed his gaze on Jonathan, grinning as he spoke in accented Common, "What is this? You're still alive? Someone is going to pay for disobeying me, although it will give me some fun at least."

He took a step towards Jonathan, his grin widening as the captain strained against his bonds. He laughed, the sound echoing through the clearing, "Ah yes, squirm little puny thing. You will soon taste the fires of my magic and suffer before you die."

It was at that moment that Serephel reappeared from within the tent, holding what appeared to be a staff in her hand. She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the orc, her eyes wide. The creature turned, hearing the sound of her fashionable and rather combat-useless boots on the rough terrain, his smile fading to a frown, "What have we here? A thief? You dare to touch my things you little wretch?! You've no idea the power you hold in your hands."

To Jonathan's surprise, Serephel smiled at the orc and reached up to caress a rune on the staff. The object glowed and she twisted her fingers, seemingly completing a spell and causing the weapon to blaze with fel power. The orc blinked in surprise, his tone menacing now, "So you've learned a parlor trick or two. It matters little, you will still die like the others."

He brought his hand up, chanting something and conjuring a blade in his grip that seemingly was made of glowing fel fire, his eyes blazing with demonic power. As Jonathan watched helplessly, the orc roared and charged the most useless member of his scouting team, the blade arcing up and coming down towards her head while she stood motionless.

Jonathan closed his eyes, not wanting to see Serephel be cleaved in half. Instead of hearing the wet sound of her broken body hitting the ground, he instead heard the orc gasp. When he opened his eyes, his own breath escaped him in a gasp as well.

Serephel had caught the blade, not with with the staff and not with a weapon, but with her bare hand. Beautiful black wings spread from her back as her arm was extended above her, holding the flaming weapon as if it were a mere nothing. She grinned at the orc now, and Jonathan could swear he saw fangs in her mouth, the woman looking far more demonic than anything else.

The air behind the orc twinkled and shimmered, and suddenly a succubus was there, her whip coming out to strike the orc in the back. He howled, whirling to lash out at the demon that had wounded him, the nether-maiden dodging his attack. Behind him Serephel stepped forward, dropping the staff for a moment, her arms wrapping around his neck, her nails digging into his flesh as she grabbed and twisted.

The orc's neck snapped audibly and the creature's sword flamed out as it collapsed forward onto the ground. Serephel grinned, a boot coming down to kick the orc in the face several times, the succubus shimmering again and fading into invisibility. For a moment, the clearing was utterly silent, only the sound of Jonathan's gasping breath and the struggles of the Draenei beside him to be heard.

Serephel seemed to sigh, her eyes closing as the wings on her back faded into a black mist that dissipated a moment later. Looking entirely normal now, she stooped down to pick up the staff, walking casually through the open clearing, her clothing stained with the blood of orcs that Jonathan now realized she'd personally mutilated down in the pit.

She stopped before him, squatting down so she could stare into his eyes, her cleavage strategically displayed for him. He squirmed against his bonds, wishing he could melt through the post to which he was now bound, understanding that their 'useless' party member was anything but what she had appeared to be.

"So we like, totally have a problem here," Serephel mused, setting the staff down for a moment and tapping her chin with one pink-painted nail. "You two saw some naughty things that maybe you shouldn't have."

Jonathan's eyes widened and he shook his head, "I won't tell a soul! I swear! Just release us!"

Serephel smiled at him, nodding, "I could so do that you know? But you see, the problem is our friend here." She pointed at the Draenei beside him.

Jonathan cursed, seeing the creature eyeing Serephel warily and struggling mightily against his bonds. There was no way to communicate with him with his second in command dead now, and it was obvious what he thought of the fel-tainted woman squatting before him. He glanced back at Serephel, noting that she was absently drawing figures in the dirt with her finger. She looked back up at him and nodded, "So you see the problem?"

"You can't just leave us here!" Jonathan said, "We're part of the garrison's forces!"

Serephel grinned, her voice low, "But if I leave you here, no one will ever know what happened to you, or about...other things. So it is totally a good plan. Unless...well, you are kind of cute and I'd hate to waste you. Do you know how to be a good boy and keep your mouth shut? If you can't, this guy over here is definitely going to tell the rest of the locals and that will ruin my plans and your ability to use them as scouts. I bet it would totally get a lot of your other men killed too!"

Jonathan's heart pounded in his chest as he realized he was literally bargaining for his life. He considered her for a moment, considered what she had done and what she could do. Considered the point of strategy she had made concerning the local Draenei. Finally, he nodded slowly, loathing himself but also not wanting to die.

Serephel seemed to perk up at this, smiling at him again, "Perfect! So wait here okay? I'll be right back!"

With that she rose, walking casually towards the Draenei beside him. The air beside her shimmered again, the succubus appearing and walking beside its mistress. Serephel sighed, the wings appearing on her back again, the smokey black appendages spreading out and obscuring his view of Serephel, the demon, and the Draenei. He saw Serephel kneel, and judging by the hooves that were poking out from the edge of her wings, he assumed the succubus was also kneeling.

Then Jonathan heard sounds. Horrible sucking sounds, the likes of which only made him think of someone sucking marrow from a bone. Serephel's wings obscured whatever it was she was doing, and Jonathan was grateful that he didn't have to see it. The Draenei moaned once, whatever was happening to him obviously going to be fatal, and both Serephel and the demon remained silent.

A moment later Serephel rose, her succubus fading away again, the wings on her back fading to nothing. She turned, walking back to where Captain Blackwell was imprisoned, leaving behind a dessicated corpse of a Draenei that looked as if it had died long ago. She knelt down before Jonathan again, smiling sweetly at him and staring into his eyes.

For a moment he said nothing, utterly disgusted with himself, the look likely passing across his face as he looked away. Serephel frowned, reaching out and grasping his face with one delicate hand, forcing him to look directly into her eyes. The irony that her pink-painted nails were digging into his cheek and were a deadly threat was not lost on him as she spoke softly to him, "Now don't be a bad boy, okay? I'll definitely let you go, but you're going to do as I ask. I really don't want to have to hurt you because I think you're pretty nice and probably useful to the garrison you know?"

Jonathan nodded, not breaking his gaze from her. His confirmation clearly pleased her, and she leaned forward, her lips touching his forehead and her bosom almost in his face as she kissed him. He felt a burning sensation on his head where her lips had met his flesh, and he knew she'd cast some sort of spell. She leaned back, looking at him and smiling, "Perfect! So if you betray me, I'll totally rip off all your skin while you're still alive. But if you are a good boy, we will never talk about this again okay? I'll even see to it that your life is a little easier if you want to do more favors for me. I like favors."

Jonathan grunted and nodded, "As you wish...Lady Westdale. Can we go now, before more orcs show up?"

Serephel blinked and then looked around, gathering up the staff and nodding, "Oh yeah, sure! Let me just get you out of here."

She rose, walking around behind the post to which Jonathan was tied. He felt searing heat near his hands for a moment, and then he was free, his bonds burned away. As he rose and rubbed feeling back into his hands, he watched Serephel warily. She gave him a happy smile, turning and casually strolling from the clearing, leaving the dead behind.

Ashamed of himself but grateful he wasn't about to die, Jonathan walked after the slowly retreating noble, wondering how he was going to explain what happened and knowing that Serephel was going to be watching him very closely. He was out of one frying pan and into perhaps a greater fire.

Regardless, he was not going to cross her. He'd seen the look in her eyes when she'd told him what she would do to him if he did. Whatever her goal was, she was going to see it accomplished and he'd best not stand in her way if he wanted to see retirement.

Seeking the Forbidden

The bartender of the Slaughtered Lamb gave the woman before him a funny look, shaking his head and sighing as he slid the beverage across the bar towards her. Why she had elected to order a hot spiced tea of all things in a place like the Lamb was beyond him; the woman looked like she was lost from another part of town and had no idea where she was.

For her part, Serephel Westdale merely smiled and nodded her thanks, taking up the small cup of tea that the bartender had taken a good ten minutes to scrounge up and turning to walk from the bar towards a distant table. Clad is an extremely fashionable outfit consisting of a short white, navel-exposing shirt with a plunging neckline and more traditional striped skirt, her thick heels made a clunking noise as she navigated between tables. Through the wall of her dirty-blonde, nearly brown hair, she noted a few of the tavern's regular customers giving her equally strange looks and she merely shrugged them off, continuing on her way. Not everyone could look so good after all; the poor dears were likely extremely jealous.

Serephel made her way to the back of the tavern, where a table awaited her with another woman sitting and awkwardly playing with the tablecloth. The woman, like Serephel, was in her mid-twenties and dressed equally well (although not quite as nicely as Serephel if one were to ask her!), and it was clear that she sat alone because she simply did not fit in amongst the other patrons there.

"Ah here we are, Tiffany!" Serephel said happily, setting her teacup down and then taking a seat across from her friend. Tiffany Caldwell had been Serephel's friend for several years now, and the two shared many common interests as well as an unspoken political alliance. She was as close to Serephel as anyone could be, and the noblewoman found herself genuinely glad to see her friend.

For her part, Tiffany nodded and then gestured around the Slaughtered Lamb, "Do we need to meet here of all places? I mean...come on, seriously..."

Serephel waved a well-manicured hand and nodded, "Yes silly! I already told you I've made contact with others here who will be able to aid us in our various experiments. While the decor is not to my liking, it's not terrible and we will simply have to get used to it. It's not like we have to stay here. Can you imagine?"

Tiffany shook her head, studying her friend for a moment, "Well, at least no one will see us here. They wouldn't be caught dead in a dive like this!"

Serephel smiled and nodded, taking a sip of her tea and setting the cup down again. She tilted her head, her face becoming somewhat serious, "I have important news to share with you."

Tiffany perked up at this, staring at her friend, "Ohhhh do tell! Let me guess, the dresses we ordered have arrived? An invitation to another ball? Someone's asked for your hand?"

Serephel rolled her eyes and shook her head, "No, none of that! Do you think I would have waited if those dresses arrived? I'd have been at your estate before the sun rose. No, it is my parents. They are going on their spring trip and likely staying this time until mid-fall at the least."

Tiffany groaned, shaking her head, "That means you'll be away for like ever! How will we get anything accomplished? What about the mid-summer festival? Ugh!"

Serephel smiled and took another sip of her tea, delivering what was earth-shattering news to her friend with a demure smile, "I don't have to go with them this year. In fact, they've already begun to pack."

Tiffany blinked, staring at her friend, "You can't be serious? They're letting you stay by yourself after....you know."

Serephel most certainly did know. Although she was twenty-six, her wealthy parents typically kept a close eye on her after she had been expelled from her studies in Dalaran several years prior. Her expulsion had come under suspicious circumstances surrounding the deaths of several of her peers, and although Serephel had never been formally charged with a crime, it was a black mark on her record. She'd had to complete her studies in the arcane with a personal tutor purchased at great expense by her parents. Of course, only Serephel knew that she actually had killed those students, or that she'd had very good reason to slaughter the would-be cultists.

Serephel grimaced and waved a dismissive hand, "That was years ago. Apparently they have decided that I am not likely to cause such serious trouble again I suppose. Regardless, I'm being left to my own devices for like, the rest of the year!"

Tiffany grinned, "This is fantastic news! You'll be able to find a date for the upcoming Woodbury Ball I hope?"

Serephel grinned and then shook her head, her voice low and triumphant, "I'm afraid not my friend, for there is a second and even more exciting part of my news!"

Tiffany practically fell out of her chair in suspense, staring hard at her friend, "Oh heavens just tell me already! It is clear you've been waiting for this moment for days!"

Serephel smiled, holding the moment a second longer as she took another sip of tea before setting the cup down, "I have used my monthly stipend from the family treasury to purchase a commission with the Alliance. Well...purchase is a strong word, more like bribe I guess. Whatever! This time next week I shall be on Draenor and will be an 'officer' at one of the Alliance garrisons there!"

Tiffany blinked in shock, clearly not expecting this. She sat back on her chair, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she blurted out, "You what? You're going to Draenor?! Isn't it like ridiculously dangerous there...? I don't understand!"

Serephel nodded and then shrugged, "I guess it is or whatever, but that is beside the point. The point is that there is apparently a Shadow Council on this Draenor. Think about it for a minute. All of our plans, our studies, all of it came from the original Shadow Council in some form or another. Imagine if we can gain bits of the source of this knowledge? Imagine what we could learn? It will change everything!"

Tiffany nodded slowly, beginning to understand her friend's point, "You...will join them then? Or...what?"

Serephel barked out a laugh, shaking her head, "Oh you're so droll. No, my friend, I won't. Why would I do that? If I wanted to be enslaved by such powers I'd have remained at Dalaran all those years past. No, I will steal what I can and bring it back here, and then we will dissect the information and our power will grow. Why, I bet between the two of us and a few of the others we could-"

Serephel's words were cut off as a shadow fell over the table, and the two young noblewomen looked up to see a man looming over them. He was wearing tattered robes, his long black hair and beard disheveled and messy. He placed both hands on their table, palms down as he glared at them, his breath stinking of some alcohol, "You two lasses don't belong in here."

Serephel's nose crinkled up in distaste, her pretty face scrunched in a look of disgust, "Excuse you; we're having a conversation here and I don't think you should just come over here and-"

The man slammed his hands on the table, spilling Serephel's tea and making the table hop. Tiffany sat upright, eyes wide as he glared at each of them in turn, "I said you don't belong here. This place has a certain type of clientele, and prissy noble bitches are not amongst them. Get lost."

Serephel's expression went from distaste to annoyance, all traces of cheerfulness or empathy leaving her eyes as she stared at the man. When she responded, her voice was a dead, flat tone, "We know the purpose of those who go into the crypts. We'll sit where we please. Get away from our table. Now."

The man's eyes widened in anger and he glared at Serephel, leaning close to her face, "You little brat! You think you'll talk to me like that and get away with it?! I'm going to-"

Serephel leaned closer and the man's words faltered as he noticed that her eyes had gone from brown to completely black, all of the white parts obscured by some dark energy. There was a heaviness in the air now, the taint of some otherworldly presence that weighed on the mind and clawed at rational thought. Serephel's head tilted at an almost unnatural angle as she studied him, as if sizing up prey. Her nails pressed into the table top (had they been that long and sharp before..?) and her voice was a hiss now, "You're going to what? You have exactly one more second to remove yourself from my presence before I bathe in your blood."

The man reeled back as if he'd been slapped, his eyes wide. He glanced over at Tiffany only to find her giggling inappropriately, small horns dotting her forehead and the stink of corrupted fel magic filling the air around the two. There was a faint glimmer of green energy coming from various pieces of jewelry the two noblewomen wore, and he realized he had made an extremely grievous error. He took a step back, dipping his head in respect, his voice apologetic, "Forgive me, Ladies. I had mistaken you for...something else. I apologize for interrupting your conversation."

Just like that, Serephel's entire demeanor had changed to normal once more, and she nodded and smiled at the man, "Of course, of course. We all make errors in judgement from time to time. Mistakes are typically not fatal you know? Could you be a dear though and fetch me more tea? It seems you've spilled mine."

The man nodded and scurried off to obtain more tea for the noble, and Serephel returned her attention to Tiffany. She frowned, nodding at her friend and pointing at her head, "Um, Tiff? You uh...yeah."

Tiffany blinked and then giggled again, her eyes closing as she focused. The small horns on her forehead faded away, obscured by some magic that the two powerful warlocks had devised together some time ago, or rather, that Serephel had devised and her friend had followed along with. There was little question as to who was the most powerful, and if Serephel had anything to say about it, her trip to Draenor in the coming weeks would result in her power increasing tenfold. Her coven could have the scraps she chose to leave for them.

Tiffany smiled at her friend and reached up to fix her hair, "Better?"

"Much better," Serephel nodded. "Now then, where were we? Oh yes, so if I'm going on this journey, you know what this means right?"

Tiffany grinned and leaned forward, the two women saying the words together at the same time, "Shopping trip!"

Serephel laughed, nodding as the man returned with her tea. She took a sip and set the cup down with a satisfied sigh. Things were about to change for her, and the events of her past would fall to the wayside when she was able to show just what it was she could do. There would be great power in her future, and if the past came back to conflict with her here and now, well she would deal with that handily.