Assault on Darkshire [Staging]

[Illidan Stormrage]

Illidan leaned over the balcony wall of Poenari Castle, watching his newly formed ranks swirling about the courtyard. A few days had passed since allying with Cornelius White, the ex-Camelot mage turned necromancer, a man who had spent years fermenting in his own hatred. There were too many parallels between the raving White and himself, Illidan had realised; betrayed by his people and yet labelled as the traitor, the vast stretches of time filled with nothing but seething at those memories until they were sharp-edged. While the night elf had more common sense and wits about him, especially with the demonic influences always quietly nipping at his resolve in the background, this pasty-skinned human could be a hauntingly accurate possibility for Illidan if he did not keep his rage and bitterness in check.

The night elf considered bolstering the ghoulish army by sending for aid from Count Dracula, but he decided against it. There was the possibility Dracula hadn't launched an assault on Darkshire for reasons Illidan didn't understand, which could prove this campaign a loss before it had even started. Yet ultimately even if he failed, he would succeed in ridding Poenari Castle of the spiritual infestation. Besides, if the demon hunter went this alone and tore down the human settlement using his own initiative, he could only imagine the praise and adulation he would receive from the Pale Moors ruler. Perhaps a closer bond with him, more privileged information?

He was getting ahead of himself. The battle had yet to be won.

Clawfang the werewolf and Regis the necromancer had been dispatched across the Pale Moors, tasked with locating any powerful allies of Dracula who might deign to fight side-by-side with Illidan. While he wouldn't source fighters directly from his lord, he would further demonstrate his worth by rallying strong officers to the cause himself.

All this could be avoided if you just struck the necromancer down, a dark voice whispered in his ear. True, if Cornelius was dead, the spell that bound the spirits to the castle would break and Illidan would possess what he coveted. The idea was too foolish to execute, he concluded. Even if White could be killed in combat, Illidan knew he would almost certainly lose; if not due to the multitude of spirits that would tear him apart, then to the formidable powers of the necromancer himself. Besides, this battle gave the kaldorei an opportunity to underscore his value to Count Dracula.

The familiar slapping of bony feet and wood on stone echoed from the doorway. Cornelius hobbled beside the kaldorei, his final step punctuated by his staff smacking the balcony hard. "So, have you recovered your strength?"

Illidan nodded. It seemed Cornelius' own vitality drained by the day. Were the effects of the dark magic on his body reaching breaking point? 

"When do you think you'll be ready to march? My friends and I are champing at the bit to receive the vengeance we are owed."

The night elf cast his gaze over the horizon. A pity that his spectral sight didn't possess zoom functionality. "In due time, necromancer. I still await the return of Regis and Clawfang. It shall not hurt to wait a little longer."

White grunted and spat a wad of phlegm over the balcony wall. "I hope not. We've all been stewing in silence, not realising that the answer to our problem was under our nose the whole time. Now that you've revealed it to us, we are more than ready."

"I understand," Illidan said in a low tone, trying to console the necromancer. This wasn't the first time White had asked when the campaign would begin. "I also appreciate how it feels to be lost without purpose before rediscovering it again. But if you wish to have the best chance at destroying Darkshire and beyond, we must strike when we are at our strongest." Illidan faced Cornelius and spoke to him directly, a rarity that he hoped would help drive his point home. "Do you agree with me?"

Cornelius' foggy eyes stared at the hidden fireballs of the kaldorei's for a moment, his lips pursed and moving in a circle. "Yes. You are right. We've already waited years. We can wait a few more days."

"Excellent. You should rest." Illidan motioned to the door.

"Yes, yes," White said dismissively, plodding towards the doorway. "You'll be sure to alert me when the time comes?"

"Indeed," Illidan said, assessing the spirits that winded glowing coloured paths below. "We will delay not a minute longer ... once we are prepared."