King of the Castle

[Illidan Stormrage]

Illidan thought it was a mirage at first, a hallucination birthed by his hunger and blood thirst. Yet as he and his felhunter, whom he decided to name Archimonde, pushed further into the shadowed recesses of the Pale Moors, faint yellow motes twinkled around him. He sniffed and knew that his magical sight was returning; that stench that dangled in the air denoted the residual fuel of the risen undead that suffocated the land. Focusing omnilium to summon his felhunter may have been responsible, but then Illidan had never lost that aspect of his sight before, so it was only a guess.
 
Further in an amber ribbon twisted through the fog, brightening along its length as the kaldorei followed it. Archimonde seemed to notice it as well, snapping his mouth-tentacles and sticking closely to the floating trail. Yet as they persevered, the colour deepened until it was near tan, as if another magic polluted the core of the necromantic energy. If such magic could be further polluted.
 
"Maybe this castle won't be as cut and dry as I first thought," Illidan said aloud, if only to hear something other than the felhunter's raspy breathing.
 
He took some cruel glee in naming his demonic hound. Archimonde was once one of the Burning Legion's greatest generals and the one who spearheaded the invasion of Azeroth when Illidan was still young. That tentacle-faced bastard almost committed genocide, slaughtering the night elves in the thousands and razing their cities. Even after he was defeated, he still had the audacity to challenge their world again, but his second incursion only rewarded him with a painful death. It may have been at the hands of his blasted twin brother Malfurion, but it was death all the same.
 
Illidan knew that demons were intrinsically linked to the Twisting Nether, and that their spirits dwelt there again until they gathered sufficient strength to return to flesh and bone. He hoped against hope that Sargeras had seen fit to reincarnate Archimonde as a felhunter, since his failure was truly monumental. At the least, it besmirched the vaunted name of the man'ari, naming a common beast after him. If Illidan ever ran into him again, he'd be sure to bring it up.
 
The ribbon grew thicker and mistier, its edges blurring with the fog. Whatever left this track in its wake was not far off.
 
Archimonde dug its heels into the soil and lifted its eyeless head. Tentacles spun about, snapping as if a dozen flies buzzed about its body. Illidan almost tripped over it.
 
"What?" Illidan barked. "What is it now?"
 
Archimonde darted through the night elf's legs and growled at something behind them. Illidan sifted through the fog, his magical gaze penetrating as if it weren't there, and stretched it back. Dozens of creatures advanced on him, all varying in shapes and sizes. Some were easily recognisable; the shuffling humans with rotting skin and missing limbs represented the zombie outfit of the group. Others were more clandestine in their identity, though some of the well-garbed members likely wielded dark magic or drank blood. A single man led them through the mist, his strides steady and certain.
 
Illidan summoned his warglaives and bent his knees, ready for combat.
 
The leader coalesced from the fog, and with a swipe of his hand, parted it in a sudden gale of wind. Illidan clenched his jaw as he saw in its glory an army of twisted nightmares, everything ranging from skeleton swordsmen to reanimated corpses to snarling werewolves. The night elf mistook a number of decrepit old men, flesh paper-thin and sagging from necks and limbs, as more zombies, but the gleam in their eyes intimated an intelligence beyond a simple undead.
 
Necromancers.
 
At the head of the ghoulish company stood a gaunt man, impeccably dressed in black, a stainless white undershirt peeking through a gap in his cloak, skin as pale as the full moon.
 
The vampire.
 
"You've made it much further than I would have expected, Illidan," the vampire said in mock adulation. "When I saw you last, you could barely hold yourself up." He grinned that infuriating grin again, the one that taunted him in the cells beneath Dracula's Castle. "It looks like you've found a source of strength. Did you finally give in to the urge? Didn't you just love it?"
 
Illidan snarled and blasted air out of his nostrils. His spectral sight bore into the vampire, reading his skills and strengths like a book, much like they did before the Omniverse. He had to stall until he knew what he was dealing with. "I've fought thirsts beyond your vampiric taint, freak. I live with a greater thirst for death and mayhem every day. I won't be cowed by such rudimentary impulses."
 
"Oh really?" That twisted smirk deepened on grey, chapped lips. "Many have thought like you do. You've held out a while now, especially for a new ... initiate. And after being tempted with a bloody corpse in the dungeons, no less. But you will break, like they all do. The thirst will rake at your throat until all you can think about is blood. Give it time."
 
Command over dark magic, flight, some basic transmogrification spells, obvious boost of vitality from drinking blood ... Illidan was piecing this puzzle together. More time. "So if I'm so pathetic that I should've given into the thirst in less than a day, why mount an expedition party?"
 
"Oh don't be ridiculous," the vampire said, fingers resting on his hips. The bones of his sternum pressed against his white shirt, showing remarkably little to cushion ribs from skin. "Vampires grow much stronger after feeding. If you chose to stick to your petty defiance, I had to ensure that my own safety wasn't compromised."
 
"In other words, you were afraid of me." A spell that instantly puts the target into a deep slumber ... Illidan was aware of that little trick.
 
The vampire tutted. "Don't take prudence and risk management for cowardice, my simple Illidan. If Ronaldo doesn't have to dirty his hands, or even if he does, it makes sense to be prepared."
 
Shadowy ropes, used to restrain targets ... blasts of concentrated magic ... hands that can crack and refigure into vicious claws ... "You can dress up your words all you like. You have an army because you know you can't defeat me one-on-one." Gods, if only Illidan had his telepathy back. Could Ronaldo be goaded into a battle for honour, leaving the army on the sidelines?
 
Illidan noticed the smallest of twitches of Ronaldo's eyebrow, but otherwise his condescending demeanour didn't skip a beat. "Please. You will come back with me to be punished. Count Dracula will be informed of your insubordination, and he will determine how you will pay for fighting the gift he bestowed upon you. After that, you will be forced to mend your mistakes by drinking as much blood as I can funnel down your gullet. Now we can do it the easy way, or the-"
 
"Don't be absurd," Illidan bit back. "Dracula won't care either way what I've done, as long as it achieves results. If I didn't play along in your self-indulgent ritual, I doubt bothering him with that knowledge will make him sympathetic to your cauee. Besides, taking so many of his subjects to track me down, a loyal officer of the great Count Dracula, doing his will ... that wouldn't reflect well on you at all. Poor judgement skills."
 
Ronaldo smirked wider, his pointed fangs sliding over his bottom lip. "You are not as untouchable as you think. You are green, unproven. We know nothing of your intentions, of-"
 
"Count Dracula knows of my intentions. He drank of my blood. Who are you to question him?"
 
The vampire's lips pursed together in a flat line. Illidan's words had finally made an impact. "I am certainly not questioning him. I merely fear that-"
 
"Enough of this," Illidan said, straightening. "You will turn this army over to me. Immediately."
 
Ronaldo laughed, eyes wide. "I will hand you my army? Because you asked me to? Your blood thirst is bleeding into your brain, Illidan!"
 
"You overstepped your bounds," the night elf said, creeping forward. "When your abuse of power comes to light, it will not be received well. The only way to avoid the crushing death awaiting you is to assign this ... filth to my command. I will vouch for you, say that you arranged a force for my reclamation of Poenari Castle."
 
"And if I refuse?" Ronaldo said. "What if I attack you now, with this army, and bring back your mangled body to be tortured over and over again?"
 
Illidan slashed the air with his warglaives, the sound of hell-forged steel ringing in their ears. "Armies are only as strong as their leaders. When they fall, so does the will of their people. With no orders and no oversight, they will break apart, forget their discipline. I will slay you and take control of them by force, and those that resist will meet the same end as you!"
 
"Forget them!" Ronaldo shouted, eyes flared, fangs exposed. "I will rip you apart without their help! I will show you the terror of Count Dracula's kinsmen!"
 
"Then let them see the folly of following Ronaldo, and the glory of obeying the great Illidan!"
 
Ronaldo shrieked and lurched at Illidan with fingers outstretched. The bones lengthened, skin stretching with it, piercing the fingertips until sickle shaped claws topped them. Illidan raised his warglaives and the bone claws rang against the steel. Ronaldo pressed down on him with surprising strength considering his lean frame, snarling like a wild animal. Illidan struggled against the great weight forcing him down, arms shaking.
 
"Now now, let's make some sport of it!" Ronaldo said. "I wouldn't want all of that bluster to have been for nothing!"
 
Illidan channelled all of his strength into his arms and roared, surging forward. Ronaldo launched off the warglaives and backflipped through the air, landing gracefully on his feet.
 
"There!" he said, waving around his bone sickles. "That's more like it!"
 
Illidan sensed the trap. The vampire was taunting him, trying to infuriate him to the point that his technique grew sloppy. Yet he didn't care. Ronaldo was strong, but he had to be defeated. If not ... well, Illidan didn't want to think about that.
 
Dashing forward, Illidan swept a warglaive at Ronaldo's waist. Bone claws formed a protective cage over his stick frame and caught the attack. Illidan swung again and again, but the vampire matched his speed, meeting each blade with the solid bones curving from his fingers. Illidan lashed out again, luring the block, and swiftly struck with his other weapon. Even still, the feint failed. Ronaldo deflected the move and slashed at Illidan. The night elf hopped backwards, adrenaline thundering through his blood as the claw tips sailed so close to his exposed chest that the cool wind of the movement ran over his skin.
 
Ronaldo laughed, stalking towards Illidan. "Close one! I almost gutted you and we've barely started!"
 
Illidan grimaced. He wanted to rebut but it was true. The vampire moved adroitly, almost beyond reason. If not for the night elf's own finely tuned reflexes and flexibility, that slash could've been the coup de gras.
 
"What, no witty retort?"
 
Illidan was outclassed. Maybe the blood thirst had weakened him, and the lack of food and water wasn't helping either, but he wasn't at his prime. Coupled with Ronaldo's freakish power and skill, it spelled disaster for the night elf unless he could end the battle quickly.
 
"No choice, then," he said to himself. Black smoke steamed out of his pores, swirling around him. Illidan bit back on the pleasure that flooded through him, making his skin tingle as demonic magic soaked into his body.
 
"Oh, this old trick again?" Ronaldo said, increasing his pace. "It was impressive the first time-" he broke into a run, "-but now I know about it, you won't surprise me with it again!"
 
"You know nothing of me, vampire," Illidan seethed, his voice strangled by deep and feral tones. The nefarious smoke drowned out all light until he hung alone in darkness.
 
"Nothing, huh?" Ronaldo shouted, bringing his clawed hands together. Ebony suffused his ivory skin. "I know you won't survive this!"
 
The smoke parted in time for Illidan to see the vampire throw his hands forward and launch a bolt of greasy black magic directly at him. A beat of powerful wings hopped the night elf demon over the attack. It vanished into the fog, a deep rumbling following shortly after it.
 
"Don't get carried away," Illidan growled. "You've seen this form, but you haven't fought it."
 
Ronaldo opened his mouth to reply, but the night elf demon closed the distance between them in the space of a breath. Steel and bone sang as they collided over and over again. Illidan grimaced, his arms moving in a blur, searching for an opening in the vampire's form. Ronaldo kept pace with Illidan's speedier strikes, but judging by the frown on his face and the lack of gloating, he actually had to focus to deflect the night elf demon's attacks.
 
"You waste your time, vampire!" Illidan shouted. The presence of the Twisting Nether in his blood tore at him, raising the rage already rampant in his mind. "I will give you a final chance to surrender! I advise you take it!"
 
Ronaldo snarled. "The insolence! Count Dracula chose poorly when he drank of your blood! You aren't fit to do his bidding!"
 
That's exactly what Illidan expected him to say. "Archimonde! Now!"
 
Illidan's felhunter sprung from the mist, saliva trailing down his open mouth. His teethed tendrils shot forward like hungry snakes.
 
Ronaldo shifted his gaze and swung bone claws through the tentacles, slicing them free from the felhunter's body amidst a spray of purple blood. Archimonde howled and cowered, the remnants of his feeders writhing.
 
Illidan roared and warglaive steel cleaved through vampire flesh. Ronaldo's offending bone claws spun free of an anchor, as did the rest of the arm up to the elbow. The vampire shrieked as his dismembered limb plopped on the dry grass, falling to one knee and grasping the bloodied stump. In an instant, a reddened blade pressed against his throat.
 
"I warned you," Illidan seethed, eyes glowing green through his blindfold.
 
"You ... you are ... nothing ..." Ronaldo gasped through clenched teeth. "You ... will ..."
 
Illidan drove his knee into Ronaldo's face, jerking his head backward. The vampire collapsed on his back, blood streaming from his nose, eyes screwed closed. The strength left his scrawny body and he lay motionless save the fast rise and fall of his chest.
 
The night elf demon returned his warglaives to their storage dimension and approached Archimonde. The demon hound whimpered as he knelt by, his truncated tentacles drooping. Illidan scooped up the ends that had been separated from their base. The mouths still clicked, though much slower than they once did.
 
Illidan flared his wings and looked to the army. "Who of you know how to repair my hound? Speak!"
 
The eyes of dozens of horrors moved side to side until a ... necromancer ... stepped forward. Sulphuric light steamed from his body in Illidan's spectral sight. "I can fix your creature."
 
Illidan scowled, but held out the severed tendrils. If Archimonde could be repaired, it would be less taxing on the night elf demon than resummoning the beast from omnilium. "Then do it, and be quick about it."
 
The necromancer took what was offered to him and crouched by Archimonde. The demon hound scurried backwards, but Illidan seized its front paw and dragged it forward. It struggled against its master's grip, but knew better to fight at its full strength.
 
A yellow glow emanated from the necromancer's pallid hands, and it seeped into the tentacles. He took each one in turn and fastened the sawn edges together, ignoring the felhunter's whining. The light flared at the point of connection and faded immediately afterwards, sealing the two parts as one again.
 
Archimonde stood tall and its tendrils thrashed about as they once did, teeth chattering. Illidan looked to the necromancer. He would never thank one of their disgusting ilk, but his work earned him at least a reprieve from death.
 
"So what say you now?" Illidan said, stretching his wings to the ghoulish army. "Your 'leader' lies bloody and broken before you. His arrogance and pride have caused him to stray from Count Dracula's path. He will only lead you to your demise. Take up arms with me, and we shall earn the master's praise! Try to flee, and I will deal with you as I did this vampire! Who is with me?"
 
The ragtag mob of monsters were silent for a moment, turning to one another as if wordlessly discussing their options. Then, as one, they rose fists, paws and bony hands, releasing a battle cry intermingled with many distinct voices.
 
The necromancer bowed before the night elf demon. "We choose to follow you, Lord Illidan."
 
Illidan narrowed his eyes and breathed deep as he drank in the adulation. He was back in his element.