With a stern voice that carries across the hall he makes clear his demands. "We must fight. We cannot run any longer!"

The council look at each other, gauging the urgency of the words spoken to them from their colleague. Finally a dark figure stands, light almost absorbed by her very presence. She is known as Alspheria, she looks frail but the blank stare and mastery of dark magic show otherwise.

The dark figure calmly states in the double pitched whisper of the undead, "If you can gather enough strength to fight this bold adversary, then we will support the cause."

Ulgrim shudders with barely contained fury, but his strategically adept mind realizes the small victory he has obtained today, after all, the council did promise to help. Now he only needed to gather the force to make good on his plans.

Ulgrim's gaze fell over each of the members within the hall as he slowly took stock of what forces were available to him. With a sigh he strode resolutely towards the exit, stopping only to slap a note upon the archway. With a slam of his fist, that shakes the hall, and nearly splits the timber of the door frame, he spikes the note in place. He knew The High Council would not give their full support, but he had to try anyway.

The note reads:

Dekoven approaches the council with apprehension. It has been a while since he was dispatched, he knows not of what has transpired since he left, and there is a possibility that things could have taken a turn for the worse.

"Greetings from the North I would bring you," he begins, his voice like crawling maggots over a rotting carcass, "except there are none."

He waits for the Chosen to acknowledge him. After a long moment, the final whispers in the hall silence and another hairless animated corpse, a master of the frozen magics, and a leading member of the Outcast Order, Teague inclines his head to the warrior before him, "Speak, and we will listen."

Dekoven laughs maniacally for a moment before settling into his tale.

"Those who have ventured before us are not faring well. The humans, the pitiful fools that they are, have set about to reclaim Northrend as if trying to salvage the blow to their ego from the admittance that their own beloved prince would bring such terrors upon them. However," he snorts, an odd sound for someone without a nose, "they are failing miserably. There are creatures beyond all comprehension, even the scourge as we know them are changed by the land. Perhaps the nearness of their master and creators has something to do with this.

"We cannot let their failures deter us, however. Our forces are standing vigilant, but I tell you now, this place will harden even the softest of visitors. If not emotionally, then at least in rigor mortis as even the flies will not be able to pick at their frozen corpses. The land is savage, the creatures more so, and lastly the denizens of the land are not friendly. Not in the slightest. Do not mistake my words however, there are new allies, willing to face danger with us, but they have been found wanting. Even our weakest is greater than their strongest, it is sad, but I feel we are now their keepers.

"We, the Forsaken, the Horde, we are harbingers of a new era, not caretakers of some weak spined sea cows! Their only redeeming quality is that they have at least made good on producing some form of transport for our caravans. The North is cold to those who still breathe. Our living mules, mounts, and flying beasts cannot live in those environs and so we are forced to travel on foot once again."

He turns about the room, slowly watching the reactions as his words settle in amongst the members present. He sneers, dead flesh cracking over a hardened and exposed jaw bone.

"This isn't a place for weakness!" He shouts at no one in particular. "We are not going on vacation. In fact we are stepping back! Gone are the conveniences of flight! Gone are the treks through warm climate and the enjoyment of live game! The beasts you may be interested in eating fight back, and if you are ill prepared you WILL die! Imagine that, dying to your dinner? Wake up!

"The fires of the North do not burn hot, they burn with a savant level of intellect," he says with a hint of admiration. "The evils that live there are no longer content with their conquered island. They are ready for more and they will not be slowed by mere words or diplomacy. Hah, diplomacy, if you want diplomacy," he sneers, "go and talk to our envoys, I'm sure the carrion dragonlings are still picking at their lifeless skulls atop the Lich King's wall!

"Force is the only thing they will understand, well maybe not understand, but it is the only thing that will stop them!"

He takes one last look around the room before pulling his great stone chiseled sword from his back. He raises it above his head, the tip swishing through cobwebs in the rafters.

"Might and total annihilation will be the only thing they will get!" He slams the sword down, point first into the floor of the council chamber. "Draw steel Outcasts!

Even amidst all the activity, there is a feeling of emptiness within the guild hall. The tapestries, paintings, carved benches and desks are all absent now. Stored away for transport to their new home. The Outcasts had changed. No longer would they make small, strategic strikes against their foes. The tribe had grown, exceeding all of it's leaders' expectations. They were an army now, a nation of the Horde warbands. They were not going to let the Lich King's actions go unpunished. No, they were ready to make his land their own and they were willing to take it with extreme measures.

"It was here," she whispers, "that I placed my knowledge of frost and ice on hold to study the deeper magics of the arcane. I put down my art of war and instead gained valuable knowledge in the workings of our once lost arts. For many moons I gave myself to the books and the oracles, seeking some piece of forgotten knowledge that could help us in our times of trouble.

"I once believed that all things could be settled by war. The might of an oppressor could be toppled only by a greater might. Oh, how foolish I was! The things I have learned have but turned those memories to ash," her voice rises as she talks to the cobwebs. "Great are the mysteries and depths of the mind! To think I had thought the arcane but a weak man's hobby. Oh, how wrong I was!"

She turns once more, her royal blue braids flung outwards through the motion. She barks a short laugh, "Oh, but how right I was! War is the answer! If it had not been for the plague, I never would have thought to search deeper! Hidden among the deepest parts of the great libraries of the Forsaken, there they were! The mysteries we had long searched for! New incantations and more powerful versions of the child's play we have done already. Yes, the arcane was a great place to learn, but never will it warm the frozen places of my heart."

With slow, measured strides she exits the guild hall, her clothing seeming to shimmer under it's own radiating light. She stands outside the door, looking over the hills towards the ocean and even further, to the direction of the isle of her new home.

"Yes, war is indeed the answer. Study time is over. It is time for the depths of the cosmos to come forth once again." She looks upwards, seeking something not visible to the naked eye. "The ice planets have aligned and their glyphs scar the heavens with a foreboding message. They laugh as they dance in their orbits around the suns. They sing of how the frozen North is but a summer day to them. They have spoken to their followers and have called us to greater heights! Our blizzard will be like nothing Northrend has ever seen. We will show them what a true age of ice looks like."

Her voice echoes from the empty hall behind her. She sweeps her gaze over the multitude of the Outcast Order that wait to board for the North. Her smile does not reach her eyes as she whispers, "Where there is life, there is death. Where there is light, there is dark. Where there is smoke, there is flame. But nothing remains after the chill winds blow."

A slight shimmer fills the air around her, water vapour flashes to ice crystals as Crystalmind steps forward, the stone pavers under her feet lifting due to the frozen ground beneath them. A loud crack signifies the end of usefulness for one such paver.

"Let the Shatterers make war again!"

Category: Roleplaying Creations