Snakes and Ladders

[Illidan Stormrage]

All took notice of Illidan as he strolled back into the courtyard with his serpentine officer. Some monsters crinkled their brow, unsure of what to make of this new addition to the castle. Others stared but otherwise masked their opinions. Lady Vashj slithered beside the night elf, taking one glance and ignoring them otherwise.
 
"These creatures ... they follow you?" she asked in a hiss.
 
"For now," Illidan said quietly. "Come. We will talk more in the castle."
 
They entered the foyer of the castle. Motes of dust floated around them, visibly striking in the spears of light flowing through the open gate. The naga leader's wavy movements rubbed the dust from the stones. Her slitted pupils scoured the disused fortress.
 
"There is magic in these walls."
 
"Indeed."
 
"Forgive me, Lord Illidan, but I must ask." The night elf stopped and turned his head. "You are not in the same form as I saw you in since I last saw you. What has happened?"
 
Illidan glanced at the stairs. "Fine. The walk to my receiving room is not short. Perhaps I should change that. Lady Vashj, as you may have discerned, we are no longer in Azeroth. This world has been named the Omniverse, and we are situated in one of its dimensions, or verses, named the Pale Moors. My arrival in this plane has wrought many changes to me, and one of them is that my demonic state requires an enormous amount of stamina to maintain, so I can only do so in small bursts."
 
Lady Vashj nodded. "So you are weaker?"
 
Illidan grimaced. "Perhaps, but I am still not to be trifled with."
 
"The Legion ... have you seen them here?"
 
Illidan shook his head. "No. I've yet to come across one of its foul order, but this dimension is vast. They could be dwelling here without my knowledge. I believe it would be best to assume their presence unless it can be invariably proven otherwise."
 
"So do you prepare for their arrival?"
 
Illidan lifted a hand and rubbed his fingers down the length of his thumb and palm. "I am always preparing for their arrival, Lady Vashj. But from this place, I must rebuild my strength in order to do so." He faced the naga head on. "However, I have entered into the service of the reigning leader of the Pale Moors. His name is Count Dracula."
 
Lady Vashj frowned, her tiny facial scales compressing. "You serve another, Lord Illidan?"
 
"Yes, as you serve me, my lady. Our goals are aligned, and it benefits us both to be in such an arrangement."
 
Illidan saw a question play on the serpent woman's lips, but she held it at bay.
 
"And yet I feel that Count Dracula's forces may begrudge my presence. We recently undertook a campaign against an enemy settlement nearby, and although we were unsuccessful, we made great strides in reducing their numbers and flattening their structures. Some, however, dislike the yoke of direct servitude. I fear that they may soon rebel against me."
 
"Is this why you have summoned me, Lord Illidan?"
 
"In part. You were always the most trustworthy of my subjects, but your peoples' strengths and skills are unmatched. I wish to gather my forces beneath you, both naga and monster alike."
 
Lady Vashj's snake-like eyes widened. She bowed swiftly. "I ... I would be honoured, my lord."
 
"Good. I will begin marshalling naga to my cause. Until then, inspect the castle, see the troops. I will return to you later."
 
"Of course, Lord Illidan." Vashj bowed once more at the hips and slithered outside.
 
Illidan clicked his fingers. "Come out, Regis. I know you are here."
 
Out the old necromancer came, down the stairs with ponderous speed, but with more vigour than an elderly human should've been capable of. "Forgive me, my lord, but I was just -"
 
"Enough with the excuses, Regis. We both know what you were doing."
 
"You are making her head of your forces?" Regis made the last step and bowed before the night elf. "Introducing a foreign officer into your ranks will already further mistrust between you and Count Dracula's denizens, but promoting her to general of your army? How do you think such an action will be taken, my lord?"
 
Illidan bared his teeth. He carried a grudge for the decision he allowed Regis to influence him to make, the decision to allow freedom and a roster for his troops. A lord does not cater to the whims of his dissatisfied creatures, especially when they roam about in relative peace due to his own efforts. No, such malformed beasts are to be ordered, not cajoled. With Lady Vashj, he wouldn't make that same mistake twice.
 
"They would do well to remember who they answer to, Regis," Illidan said. "If they want to moan about their lot in life, then let them speak to me and I will end their suffering swiftly. Otherwise, they can serve their lord faithfully and to their fullest ability. To that end, Lady Vashj will mould them into the best servants that they can be."
 
"You are ignoring our earlier discussion, my lord," Regis said with his usual disinterested countenance. "You will create a revolt within your own forces if you do not at least permit them some simple freedoms."
 
Incandescent anger flared in his chest at the memory of his weakness. "And you are ignoring the commands of your lord, Regis. There are two options; stay and obey, or desert and die. I am not trying to be their friends. I do not care if they dislike me, but they will serve me or I will end them. You are my advisor, but I will no longer entertain notions on this subject. Do you understand?"
 
Regis held his tongue for a long, quiet moment. The baying of wolves reached them in the silence. "Yes. Yes, I understand, my lord."
 
"Good. Feel free to inform my forces of Lady Vashj's new appointment. I will declare it officially tomorrow. Until then, you are dismissed, Regis."
 
"As you wish, Lord Illidan." Regis shuffled out of the foyer.
 
Illidan cracked his knuckles. He wasn't stupid. Regis was alerting him to a very real possibility of mutiny, and the night elf understood. Those snivelling, mindless monsters served only themselves, and grew complacent and entitled during moments of quiet and peace. But there were others who would endure any punishment, make any sacrifice to ensure their lord and his plans would carry through. Lady Vashj and her naga warriors were one such group, but there were others.
 
It would take some time, and much energy, but it had to be done.
 
The night elf breathed deeply as he walked into his receiving room. A long room supported by stone columns, it was once where the kings of its previous owners had greeted guests and officers when conducting official business. A filthy red carpet ran the length of the room to the raised dais where a stone chair was set into the very back wall of the room. Spider webs decorated the roof at the intersection of pillar and roof. Every step on the crusted carpet scattered and scared up dust. The windows were caked in dirt and grime to the point that no light entered at all.
 
Illidan stepped onto the dais and lowered himself onto the stone throne. The surface was cold against his bare skin. Leaning forward, the night elf held out his hands and closed his eyes, focusing on a mental image of another of his great retainers.
 
Of those that know sacrifice, of those who would accept any fate to succeed ...
 
With great determination and without light, Illidan couldn't be sure of how many hours passed by. Energy poured out of his body, but not of fel magic; the strange, intangible omnilium magic. It issued from the very stamina of his body, leaking like oil through him and out of him, pooling into place as his mind shaped it into its form.
 
As with the creation of his felhunter and Lady Vashj, when the job was complete, something tweaked in his mind and he simply ... knew. The night elf opened his blazing eyes.
 
Another night elf knelt before him, disoriented and confused. A mop of black hair ran down his back, though it wasn't as long or as fine as Illidan's, nor did he have a ponytail jutting from the top of his head as he did. Shirtless, his pale green tattoos were clearly visible, though in different shape and style to Illidan's own; more straight and angled than Illidan's curved and coiled designs. A pair of ram horns curled from his forehead.
 
He stood, unsteady at first. A blindfold covered his burning eyes, and when they locked onto his lord, he knelt hastily.
 
"Lord Illidan! I ... I wasn't aware ..."
 
"There is much to discuss," Illidan said to his second-in-command, the night elf who saw the running of his empire while he was indisposed. "And discuss we shall, Torandril."