Conquest of the Horde

Always One Step Ahead

From my time watching I've realized it can be very easy to predict the actions of any sentient creature so long as two things hold true. The first is that they are aware of their own mortality. It doesn't matter if somehow they can or will escape death, so long as they think their time in our universe is finite. The second is that they must have some desire that they are willing to risk their finite existence for. Something like an incurable obsession that clings to their very being.

With those two bits of information it becomes a matter of setting the right obstacles and barriers before a person. At first one cannot be obvious. Should you force their hand from the beginning they might turn away, smelling your trap. No, you must gently tap their shoulder this way and that. Give them options and make them think the game is in their control. You must willingly sacrifice apart of yourself, suffer loss, all the while allowing them to take the bait and run forward. Then you start to close them in, give them less room to maneuver. The way backwards is by now far too murky and for someone whose goal is advancing it's impossible to look at a maze and choose to go backwards. At this point, control is gained and you can pressure your opponent to make the moves you want to be made.

Take for example, this troll woman I have been waiting for. I've forced her into a corner and now the only way she can see her goals achieved is through my orders. However, I've been working her like a dog and now, her anger and frustration have undoubtedly reached new heights. There is still one option she has not tried and today I will force her into trying. She will try and kill me to escape my grasp. Once I've batted her down and proved the effort futile, she will be completely mine without a hope of escaping.

And, as if on cue, I see her approaching me on the road. Like always, she's dressed from head to toe with furs and there is some fabric that also wraps around her mouth. Still, I can see her eyes. There are bags under the lids and she can barely keep them open. Sleep-deprived and I can bet physically tired from the work I've put her through. There is also some spark of rage there. It won't take much work to ignite her anger.

She comes closer before tossing me a bag. I catch it and take a look inside before she speaks, "That should be everything you asked for. I expect the payment you promised me." She gives me a glare before finishing. An attempt to instill fear in me..? No, an attempt to get any sort of rise out of me. Even a devious smile would probably be more comforting than my normal blank expression. I suppose she doesn't realize it's not an act I put on... It's not as if there are some emotions bubbling underneath my surface.

I close the bag up, "And you will get payment," I say. "In time. But first, you've another mission to complete. This one an infiltration. There is an estate to the north I want you to take a look into. You'd do well to hurry." I can already see her anger, fists clenching, eyes slitted. Surely, she would be a dangerous person to fight with her blood boiling like that. However, she doesn't realize how ragged I've run her. She is in no condition to fight with her full power and I could swat her down like a fly. Still, she will try.

"How dare you," she shouts. "You gave me your word that that mission would be my la-"

"And it turns out that my word could not be trusted and you have another mission to complete," I say, cutting her off. "If you have any problems, you can keep them to yourself and carry on with your duties. Understood?"

She growls, arms tensing up. It's now time for me to crush her where she stands. After I've done this, I'll let her rest for a while before sending her off on another mission. She must think that in some way I derive some sick form of satisfaction from these sorts of games I play with her life and goals. To the contrary, none of this gives me any pleasure whatsoever. I am a tool of the Legion and so I must do as commanded to the best of my ability. I will not hold back, regardless of how twisted the method may be. All my master asks for is results and results are what I will deliver.

She runs forward, menacing look in those eyes now as she gets ready to call her attack. However, her stress and fatigue slow her, and my attack has been sitting prepared in the shadows...

Fel-green light shines.

Hands wrought from infernal stone reach out.

The rage in her eyes fade away, replaced by the sad emptiness that comes with defeat.

Memories

A report sits on my desk. I could open it, but I already know what it says. I was to be alerted if any of the prototype spires were destroyed. Considering that Macha already checked on my spires in Ghostland, there is only one spire left that the report could discuss. The one I left in Tor'Watha's outskirts. It was built shortly before I left to study corruption in Shadowmoon. If all has gone according to plan then I also know why the spire was destroyed.

I open the report before scanning through it quickly. Nothing of the spire was left, even the hut it remained in and the ground it stood on burned to a crisp. The work was of course done by Magister Bloodsun during his campaign. I had hoped he would run into the spire while fighting the Amani. His thorough destruction of it only proves that its corrupting power is strong, even for a prototype. I'm sure the trial there was successful. Now, it's time to see whether or not the completed version will deliver the results I desire.

I place the papers back in their envelope before pushing it to the side. My arms fold together as I watch the empty darkness outside. Night. It can be calming sometimes. It shrouds everything in shadow. For some, I'm sure this is discomforting. The inability to see what lies a few feet forward can terrify. But for me, night makes things simple. It removes every element of the world that is not important, until things are only revealed to me as I come close to them. In the darkness, I don't feel the need to think past what is in front of me because the effort is futile anyways.

A sigh escapes my lips before I close my eyes. It's a shame I can't live my life that way. Here in my mind there is no darkness, always bright filled with motion, never resting. Right beneath the lids as I close them I open up to a world that moves eternally. And right now, that world is wondering whether Magister Bloodsun is connecting any dots. He should be. It wasn't so long ago that we were in Tranquillen together. I helped him on that campaign, fighting the undead hordes in the Ghostlands. We both knew each other to be warlocks and he assumed that like himself I learned fel to help the Sin'dorei.

Sometime during the seventh week of that campaign I was working on the first of the Dark Spires. Duraza was walking past when he saw me hammering away and questioned it. In response, I told him, "I'm working on a tool that will save the Sin'dorei. A weapon that will forge a new era." He probably never learned that I used his campaign back then to place my spires for the first time, give them their first test run.

The brightness fades back to black as I open my eyes to the night. I stand from my seat, grabbing my staff. By now its time I move on. Time things finally were put in motion.

Increasing Momentum

My hammer comes down again on a piece of fel-iron. I continue to slam the hammer down a few times before lifting up the piece of metal, eyeing it. Then I bring it back to the flames, using my tongs to hold the piece within burning hot fire. I've always disliked working from ore. It takes extra time to remove impurities, time I don't currently have. But, it would be a disgrace to my work to allow a weak spot due to some weaker mineral hidden within the item I forge. My creations are my true pride.

Suddenly Zilpep comes through the door. The imp, stands, waiting for me to acknowledge him. He can be quite obedient at times, though normally those times are only when our master has ordered serious work from us. Right now, he's in the mood because Mammon's words still echo in his ears... as they do in mine. I move my tongs, taking the hot fel-iron and moving it to my bench. After a few moments of hammering away I place the rod in a barrel filled to the brim with water. It will need to cool before I can continue. "What is your report Zilpep?"

Zilpep walks forward, stopping right in front of my bench on the other side. "I observed Zevrim as you asked," he says in his usual overly excited voice. Even when obedient he doesn't really know the meaning of calm. "He seems to have started using the prototype spire you sent him. As expected, not as good as your newly developed ones. He also has started causing some trouble with the other elves! I'm sure with the next batch of spires, considering the plans he has, he'll gain quite a bit of infamy!"

I nod before turning away. My hand reaches to a bag of coals which I start pouring into the flames, adding just enough to replace those already burnt out. "Fel Well of Eternity. If he is successful this only will aid the Legion of course... However, failure is far more likely. Whatever way things turn out for him, the Dark Spires will have a good test run. Afterwards the appropriate modifications can be made."

While I continue to work Zilpep speaks again, though this time I hear a tinge of nervousness in his words, breaking the normal excitement with hints of fear. The fear makes him speak slightly higher and more quickly. However, most notable is his stuttering, "T-there is one m-m-more thing to discuss!" It's obvious, though he tries to hide it. Master Mammon dropped in on him with a message while he was out. Perhaps I was wrong and he's still feeling so obedient just because he received word from the master so recently. "He wants t-t-to kn-kn-ow about the... the... the other project."

This time it's my turn to pause. Mammon can be a harsh master. When he has high expectations for someone his harshness can know no bounds should he not receive the answer he desires. Unfortunately for me it seems I've recently found those expectations on my work. It is an honor of course to be thought of highly by the master, but this new pressure even shakes me to the core. I must not fail him. "Get the message to him that I will have the item tested within the week. Once testing is complete I'll reforge to correct for errors before continuing testing. He will of course receive the finished version along with a final master Dark Spire. Only the very best of my work for Lord Mammon."

Zilpep nods before leaving. I'll have to increase my work pace if I want to stay in Mammon's good favor.

Corrupted Hunter

The blade comes at me quickly, wrapped in fel-flame. That vicious weapon of the demon hunter... Within moments it pierces my flesh, the damned thing. Blood pours out of my wound as I fall to one knee. I wasn't quick enough. Against a demon hunter, this all seems like folly... But I cannot allow myself to think in this way. Should I give in to doubt now, he will kill me.

I pull the blade from my shoulder, tossing it aside. Even as Finthori approaches I hold my hand up. Flames come from my fingers and by pressing them against the wound I burn it closed. A wound this deep left open would lead to me bleeding out completely. I may be weakened, but I still have a chance. This was high risk to begin with. And now Dawnblade thinks he's won.

Rising slowly from the ground I spot Finthori walking towards me, his every step leaving scorch marks in the ground. An immolation aura... Though faint, it is till powerful. I raise my own hand to the sky, flashing with a green light. Within no time an infernal appears between us. The power to command these beings was what Mammon gave me above all things.

Finthori stumbles backward, the infernal grabbing his hands and lifting him up. Still the hunter does not cease his attack. But it's too late now. He can defeat the infernal, but I've finally won. Finally, it's time. I've finally come up with a name for this new weapon. The Fel Shackles. A weapon that will break the mind with corruption. It's suiting that the first person I use this on is the Demon Hunter... The pariah who battles against corruption both within the world and within himself.

The hunter starts to fall back to the ground, free of the infernal's grasp. I throw the black ring in my hand as the infernal inactivates and felstone crashes down. Finthori seems to not even see the band racing towards him Before he hits the ground it's wrapped around his forearm. The symbols on it shine briefly with a fel-green light. Finally, the time has come. "Dawnspear, how do you feel?"

Finthori slowly stands up. He smacks his lips, hand moving to rub across the tattoos at his chest as they seeth with energy. His expression fades down to one of inconsolable disgust at the entire situation, "Irascible."

"You'll have time to rest. But first, your orders. You will be hunting demons in the area. We have need of their felblood..."