Friday, November 5, 2010

We Don't Need Roads

"What are you?" Fulguralis asked the wolf-like creature that hulked before him.  He had seen Worgen before, but never one so tame.  This creature seemed in control of his faculties, which was new in Fulguralis's experience.  Then again, he was hardly an expert on the matter.  He left details like that to the scholarly Mages.  All he needed to know was: can it die?

 "I am," Mr. Wow began, seeming to struggle with the words, "the future."

"What does that mean?" Fulguralis asked.

The Worgen clenched his jaw, "I... can't."

"Can't what?" the Warlock asked.

"The... Nightmare," Mr. Wow growled, long claws raising to cradle his head.  "It is... worse.  Many things, I can't reveal, yet."  The thing seemed about to lose itself.  "Want... your sister."

Fulguralis bolted to his feet,  "What did you say about my sister, beast?"  He fixed the Worgen with a stare, shadow glowing in his hands.

"Not, what I mean... Decedereful," Mr. Wow said, his eyes snapping back into focus and taking a step back from the enraged Warlock.  "She is well, in Dalaran.  Nearby.  That is... enough."

"And my wife?" Fulguralis pressed.  "I suppose you know where she is too?"

The wolf regarded him with a confused look.  "No.  She was... with you?"

The Warlock sighed, "Yes, she was.  She's not any more."

Fulguralis looked down, trying to sort out his memories in his mind.  He remembered snippets from their battle with the Lich King.  His wife had been so driven, so erratic, so irresponsible.  So beautiful.  She'd been the tip of the spear of the Light.  The front line.  A whirlwind of judgment and holy wrath.  While it wasn't the Warlock's cup of tea, he could certainly appreciate power.

However, she'd also been haunted.  Fractured.  Different than he'd ever seen.  Something was wrong, and she'd left him after the fight.  What wife would do that?  Had defeating Arthas, a goal for so long, changed something in her.  Changed something with them?  Fulguralis needed to find her.  He needed to know what had happened.

A sharp howl from the wolf broke Fulguralis from his musings.  He brought his eyes back to the beast in front of him that was again cradling a furry head in clawed hands.  The creature looked unstable.  It cast one last look at him before turning to run away.

"Wait," Fulguralis called.  The beast paused.  "How did I get here?" the Warlock asked.

The Worgen pointed one long, clawed finger off to one side, and then disappeared into the surrounding crystalline forest.  Another howl tore through the still night air.  Fulguralis walked over to where the creature had pointed, looking down.  There on the ground lay his magic carpet.  Unfurled, it had a big bloody stain in the middle.

Apparently, in his delirium, he'd summoned his rug to use as a blanket, wrapping himself up in it and bleeding all over it.  Great, Fulguralis thought, no wife and laundry to do.  With a thought, he summoned Midnight to his side.  The succubus shot him a seductive smile as she materialized from the nether.

"Have this cleaned," Fulguralis ordered.  He eyed the slim demon for a moment as she began to pout, then added, "Please."  He was a married man, and married men did not do laundry.  Right?  That's what minions were for.  Or wives.  Not to confuse the two.  Oh no, he'd never hear the end of that

"Want me to collect your knickers while I'm at it?" Midnight asked sarcastically with a wicked smile.  "I'm sure they're just filthy."

Fulguralis fixed her with a level stare and sealed the command with his mind.  Just do it, he sent.

"Mmmm, I love it when you play master," she cooed, then disappeared with the rug.

Fulguralis smiled at her departure.  At least he could count on his minions, to some extent anyways.  Brought back by demons and a Worgen, Fulguralis thought.  The world must be coming to an end.

A massive tremor shook the earth beneath the Warlock's feet.  He grabbed hold of a nearby tree to steady himself.  As the shaking subsided, Fulguralis looked around.  Several trees had toppled, and he swore there were large boulders that hadn't been there before.  What the fel is going on, he thought.  Randomly, he summoned one of his many mounts.  He usually stuck with the carpet, but since it was out of commission, he'd have to dig deeper in his stable.  He was a bit surprised when a broom appeared in his hands.

"When did I get this?" he asked no one in particular.  There was an engraving on the side that seemed to be magically counting down.  To what, the Warlock had no idea.  He just needed to get to Dalaran, perhaps there would be answers there. 

"Yee haw," the Warlock said sardonically as he shot into the sky.

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