...and the prices we pay

(( a bit of wrapping up before moving to the next stage...which involves, you may have guessed, trips to Ashenvale and Darkshire)).


"Leave us alone", Lor'themar Theron suddenly said to the guards. The massive doors had barely been closed when, picking up something from the bag he carried, Eireannan threw it casually down, on the fancy decorated table between themselves.

"Here's your bloody mess."

Bending down,obviously curious, the Regent carefully used two fingers to pick up the end of the linen wrapping. Something heavy rolled on the wooden surface and he barely held back a disgusted exclamation, staring at the twisted expression of Dar'khan Drahtir's head.

"Careful what you wish for" , Eireannan muttered, suppressing a smile. Lor'themar Theron gave him a killing look as he wiped his fingers away on the linen cloth.

" You are insane."

" Nay, it's just fancy these days in Ghostlands to chop off enemy heads." He made a small gesture, displaying the trail of dark blood that stained his sleeve, up to the elbow. "Kind of messy, though".

The Regent eyed him again carefully, while moving as far as possible from the table. Not that he was a coward. He had fought valiantly in the Second War and the bitter survival of the High Elves during the Third was entirely due to his determination in pulling together what was left of their people before Kael'Thas Sunstrider showed up to take the lead. But Dar'Khan's grim face reminded him of things too painful to dwell on...the fall of Silvermoon, the hopeless fight, the betrayal...Sylvanas Windrunner gruesome death and raising into the ranks of the enemy.

Sylvanas...

Like a big spider, lurking in the depth of the Undercity, weaving its lethal trap.

He looked again at Eireannan Saralonde, thinking that this man was so much like Sylvanas and so less like himself.

As if guessing his thoughts, Eireannan gave him again one of these little smiles that managed to send chills down the Regent's spine.

"Now, that my side of the bargain lies on the table, so to speak, I expect your Highness to fulfill your own."

"Which was...?"

" Unroot those warlock nests that clutter the basements in Murder Row..."

The Regent choked in sheer amazement.

" Establish severe punishments for all those that are caught using shadow magic or summoning demons.", Eireannan continued, his voice burning now with such a determination the other one dared not interrupt. " The law, as it was before the War..."

"Do you think this will stop people from turning to fel magic?"

"No" , Eireannan admitted." There will always be dark basements and people that give into the temptation. But it will discourage those reckless children that ruin their lives because they feel their is no other way to survive...and no one bothered to tell them otherwise..."

"I find it at least surprising that this request comes from a...a..."

" An oath breaker". Eireannan ended Lor'Themar Theron's phrase rather sharply. " Yes, I did break some wows and made some not-so-good choices...and though I don't quite like the outcome, I wouldn't have it any other way." He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "But this is not about me, and the tragedy of our people will not be smaller if we add more corruption to it."

" I would try", the Regent conceded, his eyes betraying a strange feeling, somewhere in between admiration and utter puzzlement. " As you know, the Grand Magister sort of...encourages such practices...And he is a loyal follower of you know who."

Eireannan sighed. It was half a promise and half a promise was still better than nothing...still better than drunken girls, addicted to bloodthistle and seduced by their own demons, whom they had little, if any power to control.

Oh, no, he said to himself, disgusted by his own pretense of self-righteousness... he had not cared.

Not after the reconstruction of Silvermoon was finished and the remaining Magisters enthroned themselves in the freshly rebuilt city, pretending to rule the destiny of the High Elves.

Children of the blood...

Changes, spinning one after the other...the discovery of the addiction, the mana crystals, the endless search for something to quench the thirst which absorbed so many of his kind to that day...

Kael'thas leaving for the Outland...The return of Grand Magister Remmath, with the knowledge of "new ways"...

That which lay deep under Sunstrider Place and the Blood Knights...

And most of all, corruption and depravation and darkness.

It had been easier to let it all behind and go fight failing battles in the Plaguelands. Easier to run away from this changing world which seemed so strange, in flavor and color, so different from the one he had known.

But no longer, Eireannan quietly thought to himself, feeling the pain again, in the depth of his being, the same pain that, even here, within the mana crystal network of Silvermoon, kept sending at times small stabs through his heart.

No more.

(( just a little clarification... Warlock - From the Old English wærloga; "oath-breaker" or "deceiver".

http://www.wowwiki.com/Warlock))