Tales of the Darkweaver

By

Luke Simmons

Prologue

Darkness, Decay, Chaos, these are the grounds in which I base my un-death. The very fire that drives what ever is left of my corrupted soul. I am a warlock. I am forsaken. Barely tolerated by the horde in which I serve; but greatly appreciated by my Dark Lady, Sylvanas. While I have already mastered the destruction of fire, I dabble in the cursed art of demonology and affliction, and greatly enjoy the power in these dark arts. It was not always like this, however. Once I was a simple human mage, living out my somewhat meaningless life in Gilneas. Working as an Alchemist creating potions for sickness or what ever may be needed, for a price of course. At the time I was but a fire mage, often laughed at for my choice in study because it didn’t compare to the power of the Arcane or appealing coolness of frost, but I knew the true power of fire. The raw power and emotion that came from fire was greater then I could ever explain. Passion, Rebirth, Warmth, Hot headedness, all these things are part of the flame, and of me. I had achieved a mastery of fire that had not been seen by the Guild in hundreds of years. Perhaps that is why she chose me? Maybe one day ill find out.

My turn into “darker” magic didn’t come until I was in my late 20’s, roughly a year before the cataclysm. I was sitting in my shop mixing a potion to cure a lass of some nasty warts she’d gotten from kissing a toad when a cloaked figure walked into my door. I couldn’t make out much of her features but it was obvious this figure was a female based on the very large curves on her chest. She was as tall as I, which led me to suspect she may have been an elf as most human females are 6’7”. Power radiated from her but in a way I hadn’t felt before. It was pleasant but had an eeriness to it I couldn’t quite place. “Are you the mage known as Jarnakar?” The figured asked me in what sounded more like a growl then a voice. Yet some how, it was familiar…

“I am. Might I ask who you are?” I replied with some hesitance. I was fairly certain I could handle myself but even with all my power it’s never wise to go looking for trouble.

“Who I am is unimportant. I represent a person of great power in Gilnaes. I cannot reveal whom, but we have a task for you. We will pay you handsomely but I think the secrets you learn will be more then enough reward.” Suddenly interested I began to question her more.

“What kind of task do you have in mind? Magical research? Herbs? Alchemic remedies that grant immortality?”

“No young sorcerer something a little different. Studying a tome.” My heart fell. I had been hoping for something a bit more exciting. I was longing to get out of my workshop and into the wilds.

“Very well” I replied, show me this tome you wish for me to study.” She reached into her cloak in put the tome on my desk. I noticed something about her hand. It wasn’t human, looked almost animalistic. However, my attention was quickly drawn to this mysterious tome. Even though it was wrapped in cloth I could feel the power pulsating from it. It felt familiar to the fire tomes I kept in my library; yet it emanated a dark magic. Unknown to me I wondered if it was that of the mysterious dark sorcerers I had heard that supposedly meet in the sewers beneath the city. It fascinated me, and that scared me. I looked up to ask the stranger where she had acquired this tome, but she was gone. Surely I would have heard her leave as I have a bell on my door. No matter I’m sure she’ll return later to get a report and pay me. I took the tome upstairs to my personal study and sat it on my desk along with some of my latest findings.

As I turned to leave, the picture on my nightstand caught my eye. It was a picture of my wife. It was the day before our wedding and we had found a minute to get away from the stress and just take few moments to relax. She was so beautiful. Her blonde silky hair fell to about the middle of her back. Her deep brown eyes beamed with intelligence and life. She was about eighteen inches smaller than I with freckles on her face adding to her cuteness. Her body was toned, with nice curves in the right places. She was enough to make any lad fall head over heals. Her father was one of the Lords of Gilnaes and when he heard his daughter was going to marry a poor mage from the commons he was outraged. It took some time but, finally, he came to terms with our courtship and it was not long after that we became engaged. It was a happy marriage. We lived upstairs in my workshop. I was a junior alchemist then, just learning my trade and she would go into the fields and gather herbs for me. She was a free spirit and an excellent shot with a rife.

One fall night I was out late with the master of my guild showing him some potions I had created when we heard loud screams followed buy gunshots coming from the direction of my house. Fearful of the worst, I dropped all my belongings and made a mad dash for my house. When I arrived my heart sank with fear. The front door of our home was smashed in. The door lay some ten yards in smashed and had markings that looked as if a wild beast had broken in. I heard shuffling upstarts and fear took my heart as I began to pray to any gods that would listen for my wife to be okay. When I reached our room, my eyes grew wide with horror as to what lay before me. Our room was a bloody mess. The bed was on its side with the mattress strewn about the room in multiple pieces. My desk was knocked over, spilling the contents of all the flasks on the floor. The window was smashed to bits. Gore covered everything in sight. But there was no body. She wasn’t here? “Layhla!?” I called out. “Layhla where are you?” I got no reply. Reaching out with my mind I tried to sense her but to no avail. Suddenly I heard a noise that sounded like a wolf’s howl out the window. I rushed over to peer out into the dimly lit street but saw nothing. My wife was gone. I had no clue as to where she was or if she was even alive. Her father assumed she was dead and no friend would help me look for her. After weeks I gave into the depression and accepted that she was probably dead.

Below me the bell to my shop began to ring, bringing me out of my memories. I realized tears were flowing down my face and quickly wiped them away. Making myself proper I walked downstairs to greet my customer.

“Ah, good day lady Lydia. Here for your remedy? I’m afraid it’s not quite ready yet. I do apologize. Come back in the morning and I’ll have it then.” Lydia gave a slight curtsey and turned to walk out. I turned back to the potion I had been brewing for her and realized I had let it sit too long over the fire. This would do nothing but make them worse. As I began to work on a new mix I kept feeling something from upstairs call to me. I tried to dismiss it but the more I tried the stronger the call got. It kept pulsing and I could faintly hear it whispering my name. Was it the mysterious tome that had been delivered earlier? After an hour of hearing it and messing up the potion nearly a dozen times, I decided to close up the shop early and take a look at this tome. Returning to my study, I put a few fresh logs into the hearth and cast a small ball of flame to get a nice fire started. After pouring me a cup of Moon Berry wine, I sat down and opened the tome. Immediately the voices got stronger, almost screaming inside my head. Quickly I closed the book and threw it away. I downed my entire glass of wine and quickly finished two more before I was able to calm down. Glancing over at the book I decided I had to get rid of it. But as I picked it up to throw it into the flame I couldn’t do it. It was calling me. Sitting down I put barriers up in my mind to guard against what ever was coming from this dark text. Opening it there were no voices, but the pull from it was so intense I almost let my barriers drop. Steeling myself I began to read the horrors that were described to me. It described dark rituals and ways to use magic that were utterly gruesome. It told of Demons and their habits and how to control them. It told how to steal a man’s soul and seal it in stone. I knew this was forbidden Fel magic but something wouldn’t let me stop reading. I was enjoying it. The more I read the more I felt the darkness in my heart growing. And I didn’t care. It told of ways to bring the dead back to life. I would do anything to bring my precious Layhla back to me. As the night grew later my hunger for the secrets of the tome grew more ravenous. I could feel the darkness of the book spreading throughout my body. I enjoyed it. I reveled in the power. Finally when I had finished the tome I was still hungry for more. I felt different, more alive. I looked over to the mirror and was stunned at what I saw. I was no longer myself. I was a creature of darkness. Pitch black with eyes of purple fire and demonic runes glowing with purple Fel magic covering my body. Long twisting horns were coming from my head. In the middle of these horns was a demonic symbol I had never seen before but somehow I knew what it meant. Reborn. Sprouting from my back where two long leathery black wings, each as long as a man. Darkness was rolling off them. A lesser mind would have been horrified at what they saw. I was fascinated. I began to laugh. I couldn’t help myself, for it was a cruel laugh that would send chills even down the most fearless of warriors. I was reborn, a weaver of demonic magic. A warlock.

Chapter 1

An icy voice brought me back to from my dreaming. “Darkweaver! I need to speak with you!” I turned from my work to see the

Dark Lady Sylvanas herself walk into my lab. For a Forsaken she was incredibly beautiful. Her Elf features still showed even though she had long since been dead. Her pale skin shone with reflections of green from the many experiments I had brewing in the lab. She was thin and toned, no doubt from the countless years training as a ranger. Her dark ruby eyes and long jet-black hair added to her beauty, but added a sense of dread and fear, a very attractive banshee I thought. She had her bow slung over her back, not a good sign. “My lady, what brings you to my humble lab so late? Come to check on your old friend?”

“Do I need a reason to come and check on you? Have something to hide from the horde warlock?” She replied.

“Of course I do. After all, my experiments are forbidden by our fearless warchief. After all, the best kind are forbidden, and that’s what you what me working on is it not?” A faint smile crossed Sylvanas’ face.

“Precisely. And lets keep it hidden until its complete shall we?”“Of course my lady.” Reaching under the desk I pulled a small hidden

lever and the desk descended into the floor and was replaced with a stone slab. I turned to face the Banshee Queen and wondered what the purpose of her visit was. “So my lady, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way down here for idle talk.”

“You’re right, our precious warchief has asked for a representative from the Forsaken to come to Orgrimmar at once. Apparently one of his war ships was chasing an alliance vessel and found a strange land hidden in the mists. He’s asking for representatives from all races of the Horde and masters of all fields of magic to join a scouting party to see what can be claimed from this new land. The Alliance has also been reported to be doing the same. I’ve decided to send you. Your gift with the dark arts of magic and alchemy can be put to great use with whatever is found. Kyrin, one of my more trusted assassins, will be accompanying you as well.”

“I’m to assume I have another role than a simple babysitter for the Orcs, correct?”

“Yes, find anything you can to give us an edge in our experiments; new forms of magic, new herbs, weapons, anything that we can use as a weapon. You must not let them catch you. Kyrin is very good at hiding things. She’ll

appear to be following whomever that buffoon Garrosh puts in charge, but she will do anything you say. Use her skills wisely. And try not to get her killed like you did the last one. She has been very useful in gathering information. I’d like to keep it that way.” I let out a light chuckle and replied,

“How was I supposed to know there was a demon guarding that cave? I can’t control all of them, yet anyway”

“I’m sure you can’t,” she replied with a look of annoyance flashing on her face. “Be ready to leave by the morning. Bring only what is needed and nothing that will give away your true intentions should the warchief bring his own spies to keep an eye on us.”

“It shall be done my lady” I replied with a mock bow. Sylvanas nodded, then turned and walked out. I began to pack my things. I had no need for sleep or food so I required very little. A personal research journal, a small dagger I kept beneath my robe, a few empty flasks as well as a milling tool for any new herbs I may find. As I was walking out, something made me stop. A pull I hadn’t felt in quite some time. I turned and reached out with my mind to feel where it was coming from. The dark tome that lead me to the dark arts was pulsing with a dark magic I had never felt before. I walked over to it and picked it up. As soon as I touched it the pulsing began to grow stronger and stronger then suddenly stopped. “Interesting” I said aloud and flipped open the tome. I had though all of it secrets had been uncovered. When I got to the last page there was something different. Something I had never seen before. It read, “Soon I will be home. Soon the darkness shall be reborn. Soon, your end shall begin.” I stared at the page several moments before finally closing the book and dropping it into my pack. Suddenly I was much more excited to be leaving my lab. Perhaps I shall finally meet whoever brought that book to me all those years ago. First I will ask her why she chose me. Then after I gain all the knowledge I can from her, I will kill her, very slowly and very painfully. The idea brought a faint smile to my lips. As an undead I never feel emotion. But this was as close as I got to joy.

As I left my laboratory and put a seal on the door, I began the long trek through the Undercity. About halfway up I sensed a presence behind me. I turned who was following me but saw no one. Reaching out with my mind, I tried to find out who it was that I felt. Before I get far I feel the coldness of a dagger against my neck. “Kyrin, I assume?”

“That’s correct,” she replied with a voice that sounded much like the Banshee queens but was not nearly as smooth or chilling.

“Are you going to hold this dagger to my neck all day or are you going to let me go?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Obviously I’d kill you given the chance but our queen has plans for you so for now I have to keep you alive. Make no mistake; I don’t follow your orders. I work with you, not for you. You may have your uses to Sylvanas but I’m far more important than some lab rat.” She lowered her blade and let me turn around to look at her. She was shorter than I was, covered from head to toe in dark robes that seemed to blend in with what was behind her. No doubt they were enchanted. Only her glowing yellow eyes were visible.

“Think what you will thief, but someone has to put use to all the ‘information’ you gather. Most of it is garbage anyway, you’re easily replaceable with another of your trade.” With that she lunged at me with a blinding speed most elves would be impressed with. I let lose a single burst of dark energy from my hand, enough to cause pain, and knock her out of the air but not enough to kill her. As she struggled to regain her footing I raised my left hand and uttered a single word in the demonic tongue, “mo'arg”. An instant later a Felguard appeared and let loose a horrible howl of rage and raised its giant battle-axe ready to fight. At the same time, I summoned a ball of Fel Fire in my right hand and aimed it at the rogue. All this happened in less than a second. “I suggest you stay on your ass little assassin. I’d hate for Sylvanas to have to replace someone as important as yourself.” She stayed there for a moment. Glancing between the 8-foot-tall demon warrior standing above her and the swirling ball of green flame in my hand she decided to yield.

“Very well warlock, I suppose you’re not THAT useless.” I decided to let the comment slide and let her up. I wasn’t going to get much more than that anyway. I dismissed my pet and extinguished the flame from my palm and walked over to her while she wiped the dust form her cloak. Without a word she turned and began walking. I could feel the rage flowing from her like a waterfall. Grinning I fell into step with her and silently resumed the walk to the ruins of the once great city of Lordaeron.

As we approached the surface, the newly appoint Orc “guards” give us a look as we pass through the main gate, but don’t make any move to stop or question us. A very wise choice considering we were both itching to kill something. As she mounted a skeletal warhorse I summoned my dread steed. My flaming undead mount had been hard earned and much preferred to any other. Climbing onto my horse I noticed he was different, burning more than usual. I dismissed it thinking it was only because it had been a while since he had been summoned. Finally situated we crossed the field to the waiting zeppelin that would take us to Orgrimmar. As we began to fly off I looked back to the ruins of the once great city, unaware that it would be the last time I would gaze upon it with my undead eyes.