Warcraft: Raven Hill Cemetery
Year 25, Day 4
It wasn’t really much of a question. I recognized the name ‘Elune’ from one of the books I’d read, though I’d need to double check just to be certain. She was supposedly a ‘goddess’ of some sort, worshiped primarily by the Night Elves and associated with the light. I wasn’t sure about the claims of divinity, but she was undoubtedly both ancient and powerful enough to be worshiped by a race of immortal near-wizards.
Thus, this Scythe of Elune was probably quite powerful. If nothing else, it would make a fine addition to my slowly growing collection of interesting trinkets and artifacts. And if it was an actually powerful weapon? Even better. Especially if I was able to both create a Blueprint of it and claim the original for myself.
Unfortunately, the only real clues I had to go off of were that the Scythe was somewhere here in Duskwood, and that it had something to do with worgen. I also only really had half a day to work with, not much time to cover such a large area. Without knowing what it looked like, I couldn’t even try summoning it, even if it wasn’t innately magical enough to resist such a spell.
Well, no matter. Either I found it, or I didn’t. It wasn’t exactly a necessity, just something I’d like to find. At the very least, the knowledge that it was in some way related to the worgen gave me a place to start.
Taking advantage of Fel’s small but comfortable reading room, I dug out the notes that Commander Althea had given us, along with a map of the surrounding region. From the look of things, the worgen were based somewhere in the region around the abandoned farm her notes referred to as the ‘Rotten Orchard’, though they had also been seen further east. That seemed like as good a place to start as any.
I was, understandably, slightly leery about going to confront these beasts. They reminded me concerningly of werewolves, particularly in the way they could supposedly turn others into more of their kind with a bite. Bah, revolting. Their wolf forms seemed to be significantly less dangerous, but in return they were permanently transformed, not just under the light of the full moon.
I’d need to be careful. Very careful. Depending on the potency of their curse, it was possible it could permanently damage some of my Blueprints, and the idea of getting bitten myself was positively nauseating. To be reduced from a noble wizard to a foul, base creature driven by instinct was a fate worse than death.
As much as the idea of such a dangerous Blueprint appealed to me, I was going to take no chances. I was uncertain if a scratch from their claws was as dangerous as a proper bite, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. Unless the situation was absolutely under control, I wasn’t getting close to any of those things. Theoretically, my aura, and the aura of my huntsmen summons, should be enough to protect us from biting teeth and grasping claws, but that was another experiment I would rather avoid testing.
As such, it was time to go retrieve Cinder and her little team. We briefly stopped in Darkshire, where I handed off Morbent Fel’s corpse to Commander Althea. She could only offer me a handful of coins in return, but it was more than nothing and I didn’t feel like carrying the corpse around for longer than I needed to. His Blueprint and the contents of his home were reward enough. I also got a brief update on recent worgen sightings––nothing particularly noteworthy––and we stopped to eat before departing once more.
We first headed down towards the nearby cemetery. It was in the same general direction as the worgen, and I wanted to face these creatures with my full strength present, just in case. I considered summoning more creatures, perhaps some of my Grimm, but ultimately decided there wasn’t enough time to let my lands regenerate and go hunting for the scythe in the same afternoon, and I would prefer to keep some mana available to empower my spells.
Cinder’s group was not difficult to find. We just followed the sound of explosions and the smell of burning meat. She seemed to be having a wonderful time letting loose on the cemetery’s denizens, though unfortunately she hadn’t located any undead that I’d likely be able to create fresh Blueprints from.
Along the way, I used the summoning charm a number of times to retrieve coins from our surroundings. I chose not to waste any mana empowering the spell so we no doubt missed some potential money, but with repeated castings we still managed to collect a healthy sum. A dozen gold coins, thrice that many silver, and just under two-hundred coppers.
Once our groups had rejoined, we briefly paused to discuss our course of action, ultimately deciding to continue south-west on foot. The southernmost edge of the cemetery wasn’t all that far from the orchard, and a Night Watch scout had encountered worgen fighting undead in that area.
Our plan was simple enough; kill anything that seemed remotely dangerous while Kent and I blanketed our surroundings in detection spells. If we found the scythe, fantastic. If we found anything else valuable, great. If we found nothing, irritating but ultimately no real loss––I’d already gotten plenty out of this plane and would hopefully get a lot more in the coming days with Ysondre’s support.
Before continuing, I applied a number of spells to myself and some of my summons. Supersonsery charms to catch anyone trying to sneak up on us, a disillusionment charm on myself to hopefully ensure any enemies prioritized my companions over myself, and a silencing and scent-blocking charm over our entire group to help us stay hidden.
For the first half-hour or so, we mostly just ran into the occasional undead which Cinder, Amber, and Glynda dispatched well before they could get close to our group. We did come across a small group of giant spiders, but annoyingly they tried to take us by surprise and proved to be considerably more fragile than we expected. As I’d suspected, I was unable to create a Blueprint from a charred or splattered corpse. Annoying, but not unexpected, and these giant spiders were a lot less valuable than something like an acromantula summon would be.
Thankfully, it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Kent’s spells located a small silver ring set with a circular white gemstone and enchanted to increase the wearer’s strength and stamina. Some time later, we also found a rather dangerous-looking, if slightly damaged, double-sided ax which was also lightly enchanted in some way, though I wasn’t certain of its exact effect.
Out of curiosity, I tried but had no success turning either into a Blueprint––I had a feeling it was because they weren’t significant enough in some hard to quantify way––but they were still examples of the local style of enchanting, something I was keen on studying at some point in the future. Even if I was unwilling to use the local magic, that didn’t necessarily mean I couldn’t learn anything from it.
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We ran into our first worgen soon after. There were five of them, and the moment they spotted us, they charged. They were wretched things, misshapen and oddly proportioned, and dressed in the torn and tattered remains of the clothing they’d once worn. Though initially they’d been walking on two legs, they dropped down onto all fours as they ran, loping towards us with frightening speed.
With my supersensory charm, I could see them in much too fine detail. Their silvery-gray fur was matted and dirty. Their teeth and claws were covered with grime and the remnants of past victims, but looked wicked sharp and dangerous. They had tiny, beady red eyes and two pairs of oversized fangs jutting from both the tops and bottoms of their slavering maws.
Despite what I’d heard, they looked little like the werewolves I was familiar with. Back home, it could be difficult to distinguish between a transformed werewolf and a regular wolf, but there was no way I would confuse these twisted things with such noble animals. They looked almost more like the result of a failed transfiguration than any natural creature, with the same general body shape as a man but with all the traits of a wild animal slapped on haphazardly.
I shuddered in disgust as I raised my wand. I was tempted to immediately go with the most drastic option, but with so much distance left between us and plenty of backup, it was best to test the effectiveness of other spells first. Hopefully these…things were less magic resistant than the werewolves back home. There were only so many times I could cast the Killing Curse before I’d need to start worrying about the spell’s potential side effects.
“Diffindo!” Shallow cuts appeared in the lead worgen’s fur, blood slowly seeping from the wound, but it did not even slow. “Bombarda!” The creature was bowled off its feet and I could hear bones break, but it was not out of the fight, falling in behind its fellows and continuing to rush towards us. “Confringo!” I tried next. This one had a bit more of an effect. The resulting blast burned away a large patch of fur and clearly caused the beast a great deal of pain. I was pretty sure I’d at least broken a few bones, but it was still not down for the count.
I moved on to more destructive magic. I slashed my wand, “Fioleto Ill!” The worgen I aimed for dodged out of the way, but I just cast again. “Fioleto Ill!” This time, the spell caught it square in the chest and the creature howled in pain before tumbling over its own feet and lying still. Good. No need to resort to wasting mana or more complex spells, then.
The rest of the creatures were dead before I could try out any more of my repertoire. Cinder’s glass-like arrows tore straight through one, a telekinetically-controlled boulder smashed two more into a pulp, and Amber’s lightning took care of the last beast.
“Good work,” I complimented my summons. “Seems like we’re getting closer. Keep your eyes peeled and let’s keep going.”
We ran into four more groups of worgen, varying in strength between a mere three of the creatures which were dead before they even knew what was happening, and a pack of nine that tried to ambush us. The most recent group had included something of an oddity––a worgen spellcaster––something that none of Althea’s notes had mentioned. The beast attacked mindlessly with bolts of sickly shadow and wore the remains of a once fine robe. Truly a tragic fate. I put the poor thing painlessly out of its misery with a flash of green light.
Eventually however, Kent’s spells detected something interesting. Traces of a powerful magical signature emanating from beneath the earth. Some exploration and consulting our notes and maps indicated that the source was likely in one of the many caves and abandoned mine shafts that could be found in the nearby hills.
The first few spots we investigated were all duds, but eventually we came across a cave entrance surrounded by a number of worgen. It seemed like a promising option, so we swiftly dealt with the creatures and ventured deeper.
The worgen here were faster, larger, and more resilient. They were also clearly more clever, far more capable of dodging spells and attempting to ambush us from the darkness. Regardless, they died just as swiftly as their kin outside. We were slightly more limited in our spells due to the comparably cramped environment, but Peach seemed delighted to finally have the opportunity to give her newly acquired sword a try. She clearly wasn’t much of a sword fighter, but when sheathed in aura and swung with all the force of her augmented muscles, she managed to cleave a worgen in half from shoulder to hip with a single blow.
And then we emerged into a large hall where a half-dozen worgen stood upright around a crude ritual circle. At the center of the circle was a twisted, shadowy portal of green and black, from which another worgen was slowly clawing its way into the cave. One of the worgen at the edge of the circle was holding a crude, but clearly magical scythe formed from a gnarled branch grown to hold a huge, wicked fang.
My eyes locked onto the weapon in the worgen’s hands. Under the effects of my detection spells, it shone with the light of unfamiliar magics. The staff portion glistened like liquid moonlight, while the fang hummed with the vicious, unrestrained savagery of nature.
If that wasn’t what we were looking for, I didn’t know what was. “I think that’s probably it,” I said quietly. “Kill them, but try not to damage it.”
My summons obeyed, and the worgen died. It was barely even a fight. The worgen in the cave were clearly more powerful than the ones we’d run into before, but ultimately they were animals that fought with teeth and claws. Only a single one of them managed to reach us before it was cut down by Cinder’s arrows, Amber’s cutting wind, Glynda’s semblance, Emerald and Mercury’s bullets, or my own spells. That unfortunate creature ran right into a high kick from Peach that launched it up off its feet and straight into the path of my final curse.
I surveyed the room, finding no signs of other living worgen. The shadowy portal had collapsed when Cinder had skewered the scythe-wielding worgen through the throat with a spear-like arrow, and the worgen that had climbed out of it was just as dead as the rest.
I carefully picked my way across the cavern and stopped beside the dead worgen. Even in death, its paw was still wrapped around the scythe’s grip and I wrinkled my nose in distaste. “Relashio,” I mumbled, and the creature’s claws sprang apart, something inside its paw cracking loudly.
I carefully levitated it out of the way, dropping the corpse in the corner of the cavern without touching it, then cast a cleaning charm on the scythe’s grip to remove any traces of the thing’s touch. Only once that was done did I finally bend down and wrap my own fingers around the staff, doing so a good distance from where the worgen had been holding it out of an abundance of caution.
I lifted the scythe into the air and something slammed into my occlumency with all the subtlety of a rampaging dragon. It roared inside my mind, clawing and tearing at my mental barriers, and I physically staggered backwards. My aura flared to life, green and silver sparks erupting around my hand like fireworks.
“Hydrys!” a voice called out, but I could barely hear it, my ears ringing with the sounds of some ferocious, raging creature’s roars and bellows.
The scythe was wrenched from my hands by an overwhelming force and thrown clear across the cavern. The voice in my head vanished and I collapsed onto my knees, reeling both from the sudden attack and its similarly sudden absence.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and my aura pulsed throughout my entire body. It was badly depleted, but I could still feel it pushing away the last traces of whatever the hell that had been. The tip of Kent’s cane slapped against my forehead, a golden ankh burning against my bare skin.
I coughed and slowly opened my eyes. “That…was not the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” I whispered hoarsely. “Should have…worn gloves.”
My eyes closed and strong arms caught me before I could hit the ground. I focused on breathing and repairing my occlumency, even as I listened to the people around me with half an ear.
“He should be fine,” Kent said softly. “His mental defenses and aura protected him from the worst of it.”
“You got it out of his hands in the nick of time.” That was Peach’s voice, I thought. “His aura was nearly completely depleted when I got to him.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t managed to do something terrible to myself. That was…good. I just needed to take a little nap now. Just rest my eyes. And then I could….