Legacy of Oblivion

“Before we go in,” Matelda said, “there’s something you should know.” For some reason she was barring the door with her body, just in case someone decided to make an early entry.

Grimvalt looked around uneasily. They weren’t hanging out in one of the nicer areas of Undercity and no one had to be a resident of the subterrestrial city to know it. Autumnwolf hadn’t taken her hand off of her weapon in over an hour and Airsk was refusing to touch anything, as if he had walked into a public lavatory right after a group of diarrhetic mountain giants had used it.

“The person you are about to meet is a little,” Matelda began, looking up thoughtfully while she searched for the right word, “special.”

The group stared back at the priestess blankly.

“Okay, I’m out of here,” Airsk said, turning on his heel.

Stepping forward, Matelda grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the door they were standing before.

“At least let me explain,” she said irritably, gesturing to the gloomy domicile behind her. “When the Frozen Throne cracked, those under the control of the Lich King were becoming free in small waves.”

She paused, waiting for a nod of understanding from Autumnwolf and Airsk. Grimvalt said nothing; his face was masked and he was looking past Matelda at the door.

“The power that seeped from the Frozen Throne was raw magic, pure and uncontrollable once it left. When the Lich King realized this, he fought to control it, but could not. His attempt to own the magic backfired and a surge of raw power left the Throne, targeting the few undead who had just regained their former selves.”

Water dripping from cracks in the ceiling sounded like blood as it splashed onto the cold, stone floor.

Autumnwolf grimaced. “How many survived?”

“I only know of two,” Matelda said. “Both of them suffered a great deal of madness and were forever changed – as if it weren’t enough that their families had been killed by the plague and they would forever suffer a life of undeath. To be assaulted by such powerful magics… one of them is still as crazy as you can get, and the other,” she said, pointing again to the door behind her, “isn’t too far off at times.”

“So we’re here to talk to a crazy person,” Grimvalt said, suddenly irritated. “What are we waiting for?”

Yellow eyes narrowed at Grimvalt, glowing in the darkness as if they might become laser beams that could make his head explode. They didn’t.

“He’s not crazy,” Matelda snapped, “he is a sage. Not full time, though. Now he freelances.”

The warrior nodded in mock agreement, head bobbing up and down with encouragement. “A crazy, freelancing sage. Yeah,” he said, eyes narrowing, “because that makes sense.”

Airsk was clearly confused looking back and forth between Matelda and Grimvalt, but Autumnwolf shook her head slightly, warning the young orc not to interfere.

“At any rate,” Matelda said, glaring out of the corner of her would-be laser beams at Grimvalt, “he knows a lot and, if he doesn’t know what the markings are on the, uh, object, then he’ll probably know how to find out.”

Turning away, she grasped the door handle. The last statement was mumbled so quickly over her shoulder that they almost missed it.

“Also, he can tell the future.”

Even Grimvalt snapped to attention.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “What was that?”

Matelda froze with one hand on the door, almost as if she wished she hadn’t mentioned it. She had to, of course. They had to know before they went into the house. Facing them once more, she sighed.

“He is a seer – of sorts. The magical assault brought him so close to the very source of all power and gave him visions of the past, the present, and the future. Because of the severity of the magical attack, his ability to prophecy became twisted and now his predictions only come out as riddles.”

“But he can still tell the future. That’s a good thing, right?” Airsk asked, trying to be helpful.

The priestess turned back to the door and shrugged as she grabbed the handle. “At one point,” she said, “Sylvanas assigned groups of scholars to work on his many prophecies. In the end, it was decided that it was a considerable waste of time.”

“Why?” Airsk asked.

“Because it’s hard to pick through the many prophecies and determine which ones are important and which ones aren’t. Everything is in riddles, some elaborate, some simple. There’s no possible way to know which ones are telling you about the next global catastrophe and which one indicates you will experience terrible indigestion after dinner.”

A cheerful chime greeted them as they entered into a surprisingly colorful interior. Overflowing bookshelves lined the walls and gadgets that whirled, smoked and bubbled were everywhere, vying for attention with their strangeness. Other trinkets and baubles littered the shelves and walls and hung from the ceiling – remnants of life before the plague. Many Forsaken had such items, but no one ever discussed them, as if the world they knew was such a precious gift that speaking of it might defile the memory.

“Don’t touch anything,” Matelda ordered.

No sooner had the door closed when a well dressed undead male appeared in the doorway of the nearby hallway. Sound and movement had not accompanied his entry, and his sudden appearance caused everyone, except Matelda, to jump in surprise.

Grimvalt lifted a finger of warning to the mage. “Don’t do that,” he said.

Answering the remark with a raised eyebrow, the mage glided into the room, dark eyes briefly pausing on each of them. At Airsk, he stopped, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“Ah,” he said, sounding quite annoyed. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. One bony finger uncurled from his hand and stretched out toward Airsk until it lightly jabbed his ribcage. “Ten times the stars will fall, ten tiny heroes in a final casting call, twixt bone and sparrow, they burn!”

“Um, that doesn’t rhyme,” Airsk started to say, then he took a step back and his eyes widened in surprise, mirroring the sudden look on the sage’s face.

“CUCKOO! CUCKOO!” The sage shouted, flapping his arms wildly. “Death comes to the lifeless bird!” The sage chanted, staring with angry conviction at Airsk. “All to the flame! All to the fire! Consumed in the smoke and crushed by your hand!”

Silence and the sound of the sage’s contraptions lingered over the room as everyone waited to see if the inane ranting might continue. The only movement in the room was Grimvalt’s eyes moving from the sage to the window, looking as if he felt sorry for him. When the sage smoothed out his robes and Matelda cleared her throat, everyone breathed again. After the outburst, it was still uncomfortable.

“So,” Airsk ventured, “what’s all that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I cannot say.”

Nodding sagely, Airsk offered, “I see. You have been gifted with the ability to foretell the future, which in itself is a moral dilemma due to causality and which would ultimately go against your strict beliefs of interfering with the will of the gods and every living creature’s free will to choose their own destiny.”

The sage stared at him blankly. “No, I mean I really can’t tell you. I’ve tried before and it just won’t come out.”

“Oh.” Airsk looked very disappointed. “Can’t you try?”

“No. I’ve told you, I can’t.”

“Oh, come on. The thing about the ten stars. You can tell me that.”

“No, it won’t work.”

“Try it,” Airsk insisted. “I bet this time you can.”

The two stared at each other, the sage looking quite doubtful in the face of Airsk’s eager nod. Finally, the sage sighed.

“Very well.”

Planting both feet shoulder’s width apart, the sage braced himself. Drawing a deep breath, his mouth opened. They waited.

An expression of concentration quickly turned to something slightly pained and his brow creased. Both hands formed tight fists at his sides and a bloodless vein appeared on his forehead, pressing against his sallow skin. One of the sage’s eyes bulged crazily as if it were about to pop out, and the other was being kept inside of his head by a tight squint. At this, Airsk took a cautionary step back. The sage’s jaw was still open, but nothing was coming out. Both knees started to bend slightly until he looked as if he were suffering from the worst case of constipation the Eastern Continents had ever seen. The greenish-purple color he turned seemed to be the indication that no matter how hard he tried, he would not be able to explain the bizarre prediction. A large exhale exploded from his chest and he fell back onto the couch, panting.

“It’s no use,” the sage gasped. “I’ve tried in the past and it’s always the same. It’s riddles and jibberish or nothing!”

Frowning, Matelda stared down at the sage. Her head shook slightly in disappointment as any hope of a dignified and well-mannered introduction had been lost.. “Everyone,” she said, “this is Raeln Rivaellyn. Raeln, these are my associates.”

Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, the sage nodded. “Charmed,” he said weakly.

“So,” Matelda said, glaring at Airsk, “if we’re done with introductions and other extracurricular activities, we have business.”

Raeln looked up at her. “Oh?”

She nodded, grabbing something out of her bag. It was long and wrapped in cloth. Airsk instinctively moved away, watching Matelda unwrap it with a wary eye. When it was unveiled, Raeln stared at it blankly for one moment. His eyes flickered up to Matelda, then back to the item. The motion was repeated a few times, then he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re joking.”

“Certainly not,” the priestess replied. “Take a look at this.”

The offending object was extended to Raeln. Confused, his hand lifted from his lap and paused in midair. Suddenly he remembered what he was reaching for and withdrew it.

“No!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Matelda said. “Take a look at this.” She pointed to the engravings carved all over the object’s length.

The sage sneered up at Matelda. “I assure you that I have no interest in –”

His eyes fell back to the object and his words dropped off. He blinked hard. Snatching the cloth wrapping out of Matelda’s hand, he used it to grab the object, lifting it until he could get a good look at the very bottom of the phallus. As he moved it, the light reflected off of the strange symbol set into the object, the only symbol that had been inlaid in gold. The sage’s eyes sparkled mysteriously.

“Where did you say you found this?” He murmured distractedly.

“I didn’t,” Matelda said. “It was in the possession of a dragon in Blackrock Spire.”

Raeln nodded absently and was silent for a moment.

“This object is not this object,” he said.

Autumnwolf stirred from the corner of the room where she had been a silent observer. “Another riddle?” She asked.

“Yes,” he answered, “but not one of mine.” Pushing himself up from the couch, he beckoned Matelda to follow him. “Bring that in here,” he said, rushing into the nearby hallway and disappearing around the corner. Chaotic noise and Gutterspeak floated down the hall from wherever they had gone.

Airsk had become bored with the conversation long ago and had since been exploring the strange contraptions in the room. Nearby, Grimvalt had leaned up against the door frame. When he wasn’t looking out the front window, he was watching the shaman with a wary eye.

“Humans have strange items,” Airsk said, looking up and down a wall lined with shelves. Books, trinkets and strange contraptions were placed meticulously all along the wall, from top to bottom. Both cheeks reddened when he realized Grimvalt watching him.

“Oh,” the orc said, “I’m sorry, Grim.” He looked back at the objects perched up on the shelf. “We didn’t have these kinds of things where I grew up.”

“Your tribe is quite far from most other tribes,” Autumnwolf said.

“Far from every other tribe,” Airsk said, one finger getting dangerously close to a glass container. Inside, smoke whirled and danced as if it were alive. At the same time, his nose was investigating the shelf above, almost touching a series of tubes coiled around a box. Every tube began and ended at the box. Tiny white lights chased each other fancifully around inside of the tubes, disappearing inside the box and reappearing in again for another chase. The contraption was precariously balanced upright by an old, miniature grandfather clock on one side and, on the other, a few books on the studies of the plague.

“Some people make jokes about playing with rocks and sticks as children,” Airsk continued, gently touching the smoky sphere while his eyes investigated the chasing lights above. “We actually did, only because we’re so secluded that it’s almost impossible to get things. I mean, we go to battle when Thrall commands and we get a lot of seekers to our tribe, but it’s not often that supplies and modern comforts come out there. Sabe and I take stuff back when we visit.”

Nodding, Autumnwolf crossed the room to the couch. Despite false perceptions about her race, she sat back into the cushions with a grace that elves envied.

“Sabe travels home more frequently now that you have joined us, although she still is reluctant to talk about family matters.”

“Yeah, everyone was pretty upset when she left. Sabe’s the first one to leave the tribe. Ever. Our great-grandmother was furious over it. Some of the family refused to speak to her when she returned for ceremonies and sacred rituals. It’s a lot better now, though.”

“And you still wanted to join us, after all that your cousin went through when she left?” Grimvalt asked, looking out the window.

Airsk nodded, his hands drifting across the shelf with the dancing smoke, fingertips lightly touching every object within his reach. Above, his nose was barely pressed against one of the tubes with chasing lights.

“Before Sabe left, our Elders said the world would choke out the voice of the earth and cloud her ability to commune with the spirits. But when she came back to visit, she seemed so at peace with everything that was going on in the world. And she had seen stuff. I had never been anywhere or seen anything other than the desert of Durotar. When I said I was going with her, the tribe seemed happy that she would at least be with family.”

He shrugged, causing his nose to nearly bump into the shelf. Both hands continued to absently roam below.

“I think everyone took her departure as her way of divorcing the family’s beliefs. But when she was happy to take me with her, everyone realized that wasn’t the case at all and suddenly she was acceptable again.”

Both Grimvalt and Autumnwolf were now watching Airsk’s hands brushing over fragile pieces displayed so carefully on the shelf. Both of them saw the accident in a split second before it happened, but neither could move fast enough to stop it. The shaman was still chattering away at the shelves, fingers lightly dancing over bits of stone, sculpture, strange contraptions and vials filled with varied elements, when he leaned a little too far to the left. His words paused briefly as his hands made a new discovery: A small ball with soft tentacles sticking out in every direction, not dissimilar from magnificent sea anemone. Grabbing it lightly with one hand, he squeezed.

It moved. Unrolling itself, it spilled out of his hands on both sides and started to wriggle. One large eye opened at one end and looked up at its captor. One large mouth opened at the opposite end, revealing long, sharp teeth.

Airsk screamed. His arms flailed wildly and his head snapped back, causing the small animal to panic and sink its teeth deeper into the thumb it had claimed. Now all four of Airsk’s limbs were flailing and one knee slammed into the shelf directly above it. Books, art and sculpture smashed to the floor, the noise barely heard above his high-pitched shriek. Doubling over, his head slammed into the tube contraption. Reeling in pain, his head snapped back again. The sudden movement made him lose his balance, so he took a large step back and pushed off, sending his torso back again and his head against the clock. He raised his hands to his injured head, giving the creature a new target.

He whirled around, still screaming, the strange creature whipping around his head like a crazy earring. Grimvalt stepped in to assist and grabbed the animal with both hands.

“Stop!” Airsk screamed, his head bending in the direction of the tugging motion. “You’re going to take my ear off!”

Grimvalt let go, but not before giving the creature one last tug. Airsk’s body dipped downward and his leg flew up into the wall. The shelf Airsk had explored moments ago crashed to the floor. Smoke poured out from its shattered container, swirling around the commotion. Grimvalt retreated to the couch where Autumnwolf was watching the spectacle with a raised eyebrow. The flurry of movement that was Airsk disappeared into the cloud of smoke.

Screams and slamming noises were heard coming from the cloud that was now expanding into the room. Autumnwolf and Grimvalt shot waried looks at each other and then back to the cloud as a large crash echoed through the room. The tubed contraption slid outside of the blur and smacked into the foot of the couch, dislodging one of the tubes. Within the cloud, the final call of the cuckoo bird within the old, wooden clock sang out its final song.

Autumnwolf was watching the contraption on the floor with interest. An amused smile spread across her face as the tiny lights chasing around the tubes reached the disconnected area and shot through the air, into the cloud.

Airsk’s screams were renewed. Autumnwolf was counting.

“One.”

“Noooo!”

“Two.”

“I’m on fire!”

“Three.”

“It’s burning my eyes!”

“Four.”

“What is going on!?”

“Five.”

“Make it stop!”

“Six.”

“Why!?”

“Seven.”

“The spirits have forsaken me!”

“Eight.”

“Help me!”

“Nine.”

“I want to die!”

“Ten.”

The cloud whimpered.

“Ten falling stars,” Autumnwolf said, pointing at the floor, “betwixt bone and sparrow.”

Looking down at the clock and the little bird dangling sadly from its perch, Grimvalt’s brow furrowed slightly. “I see the sparrow, but where’s the bone?”

“That book,” she said, pointing again. “The stars were between the cuckoo clock and the book, The Black Plague and You: Exploring the Cure, Volume 1. There is a picture of a bone on the front.”

Raeln and Matelda came running into the room and skidded to a halt. Glowering at the smoke, Raeln pulled a pearl-handled wand from his robes. Smoke swirled violently until a pointed tip formed at its top. Hissing, the wand sucked the smoke into itself until the room was clear. The wall, once lined with many shelves and trinkets, was now empty. Airsk lay on the floor in the middle of broken and burned shards, his protests muffled by the creature attached to his lips.

The sage crossed the room and ran one finger gently over the animal. Closing it’s eye, the animal relaxed and released Airsk. When it curled back into a ball, Raeln picked it up and dropped it into his pocket. He promptly crossed the room to the destroyed clock and sighed sadly.

“This clock was made by my great-great-great-great-grandfather as a wedding gift to my great-great-great-great-grandmother. It was the oldest heirloom in my family.”

Grimvalt helped Airsk up. Once he was standing upright, Grimvalt reached around and slapped the orc on the back of the head.

“Ow!”

Shrugging, Grimvalt moved back to the door and resumed his watch.

“I’m sorry, Raeln,” Airsk said, sounding quite sincere. “I don’t know how to make it up to –”

“We will pay for the damages,” Autumnwolf said, looking sternly at Airsk. “And Airsk will see if there is a goblin who can repair your clock.”

This seemed to cheer the sage up somewhat, although he was still staring at the mess on the floor.

“Did you figure out what the markings meant?” Autumnwolf prodded.

“Oh, yes,” Raeln said, looking up. “Well, no.”

“Which is it?”

Frowning, the sage turned around and looked down his nose at Autumnwolf. “The symbol on the bottom,” he said grandly, “is something that has not been used since the alleged time of the Titans and, since then, rarely seen.” He crossed the room to Matelda and pointed to the emblem. “It may confirm their existence and influence in our world.”

“How can you be sure this indicates the Titans?”

Irritation was clearly read on his face. He opened his mouth to inform her that anything he said should be believed and not questioned when Autumnwolf stood up from the couch and rose to full height. Both eyebrows lifted at the sage, who suddenly changed his mind.

“There is a legend,” he said, “based on ancient tablets uncovered by the dwarves. According to the tablets, before the Titans left the world, they hid something very powerful. The tablets are unclear as to what it was because some of the writing has no decipher and because some of it has worn away. Some speculate that it is a device that helped to shape our physical world, others think it is a device that keeps the balance. And others –”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Matelda interrupted, evil visions dancing in her eyes, her hands reaching high above her head toward the ceiling. “A weapon of unthinkable power!” Her head fell back and she cackled loudly.

Suddenly she realized she was the only one reveling in the moment and stopped.

“What?” She demanded.

“Um, right,” Raeln said slowly, looking warily at the crazed priestess. “A weapon. But no one really knows what it is.” He turned back to the rest of the group, who were still staring at Matelda like she had been temporarily possessed. “What is clear to us is that a component was left in the world – a key of some kind, but disguised so if someone found it, they would not be tempted to uncover whatever the Titans had left behind.” His eyes flickered again to Matelda, who shrugged.

“So it would not fall into the wrong hands,” Autumnwolf said, looking pointedly at Matelda. She turned back to Raeln. “You are suggesting this is the key?” She asked, pointing to the object.

Matelda stared down at the object for a moment, then hugged it close, eyes dancing again with strange visions.

“It is absolutely possible,” Raeln said. “The symbol means that the form you see is not really what the object is. It is a disguise to conceal its true nature. To change it, you will most likely need decipher the remaining script engraved along its body. I do not have what is necessary to decipher it, but I have some contacts that might be able to help.” He held up a piece of paper. “Directions and names are written for you here.”

Grimvalt and Autumnwolf looked at each other for a moment, then back to Raeln.

“You seem to know a great deal about the subject,” Autumnwolf said.

Raeln nodded, trying to figure out where the druid was headed with this. “Titan lore is a bit of a hobby.”

“Then you will come with us,” she said. “We will need your assistance if we are to figure this out. If we are now in possession of a key to anything left behind by the Titans, then it should not be taken lightly.”

Raeln’s jaw dropped. “I will do no such thing,” he protested. “I will not take orders from a… from a…” his chin lifted haughtily, “a cow!”

The room fell silent.

Airsk backed up against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible, no small feat for a two-hundred pound orc. “Uh oh,” he whispered.

In one large step, Autumnwolf was towering over the sage, tail slicing the air angrily.

“Cow is for eating,” she said proudly. “I am Tauren.”

The sage never looked so small. He gathered himself up, trying to make himself as tall as possible. His voice was a pitiful squeak after Autumnwolf’s strong tones.

“Oh?” He asked. “And what, pray tell, is a Tauren for?”

At this Autumnwolf tilted her head to the side and smiled prettily. Reaching out with one hand, her arm grasped Raeln’s wrist and yanked down hard. Everyone in the room heard the unique sound, as if a bubble had popped. The sage’s eyes went wide as he looked up at the druid who was now in possession of his arm. It was no longer attached to his body.

“That,” he gasped, “is –”

Batting her long lashes at the sage, Autumnwolf tossed it down the hall.

“– my arm!” He shrieked.

Turning swiftly, her tail smacked the side of Raeln’s head for good measure, and she reached the door where Grimvalt was watching the unfortunate scene.

“We should go now, and he is coming with us,” she said gesturing angrily to Raeln, who was scurrying down the hall to retrieve his limb.

Grimvalt nodded back, jamming his thumb in the direction of the window. “That’s going to be a problem, because someone has been staking out this house for the past hour.”

“Anyone we know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Interesting. We will need a back door then.”

Raeln emerged from the hallway, trying to jam his arm back into the socket.

“Well they probably followed you here,” he said. “I can’t think of anyone who would be interested in me.”

Grimvalt shook his head. “We can’t be too sure of that. If you’re right and they are watching us, then they’ll want to talk to you. Right now it would be in your best interests to come with us.” He looked around the room. “Do you have a back door in this place?”

Beckoning to Airsk, Autumnwolf disappeared down the hall to find another exit.

The sage’s eyes narrowed once again, but his attention was on his arm. No matter how hard he tried ramming it back into the socket, it wouldn’t pop in.

“I’ve already told you,” he grunted, beating his body with his limb, “I am staying here!”

“You heard the lady,” Grimvalt said, crossing the room, “you’re coming with us. Here, let me help you with that.”

“I can get it!” Raeln snapped.

“Just let me help you,” Grimvalt said, suddenly glancing around the room. “If I had a large, blunt object, I could hammer it back in. I’ve done this once before when she pulled a limb off of one of our associates.”

“You mean this has happened before?”

“Yeah, once. He was making unwanted advances at her. He does that a lot, though.”

“Well I don’t think she has anything to worry about from me!”

The warrior turned to Matelda. “Hand me that,” he said, pointing at the phallus.

The priestess hugged the item closer, unwilling to let her precious find go. “No!”

“I need it to hammer his arm back in.”

“Then definitely not!”

He grabbed for it, but she backed away. Glaring, he reached for it again. He was faster and his hand clamped down hard on the phallus. Despite her protests, Grimvalt pulled.

“Let go!” She demanded. “It’s mine!”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “It isn’t anyone’s.” He slapped a hand on Matelda’s forehead and pushed while the other hand pulled on the phallus.

Raeln frowned, waving his detached limb in the air. “Hello, people,” he said. “My arm?”

Another hard yank finally freed the phallus. The force of his pull flung it back through the air and into Raeln. Stumbling from the blow, the sage released his detached arm. Both phallus and limb shot through the air and into a nearby aquarium.

Autumnwolf and Airsk came running into the room in time to see shattered glass and water spraying everywhere. Raeln’s limb skidded across the room and disappeared in the mess.

“Um, what’s the thing doing?” Airsk asked.

The phallus had stopped on top of the exploded aquarium and was standing upright, whirling. Water sprayed off of it as it increased speed. Suddenly it stopped, and it almost seemed to be looking at them.

Airsk tapped Autumnwolf lightly on the shoulder. “I think this is the part where it attacks us,” he whispered, taking a nervous step back.

The druid snorted. “Do not be an id–” Her jaw fell open as the phallus trembled slightly and a white mist shot out of the top.

Everyone backed away quickly.

“That is disgusting!”

“Raeln, you wouldn’t happen to have any vomit bags, would you?”

“Actually, yes. First door on the left. Please grab one for me, as well.”

“Grimvalt, kill it!”

“With what? I’m not touching that thing.”

“You broke my key to ultimate power, you clod!”

The mist continued to gather until it was so thick it was impossible to see the object within. Writhing and swirling, it began to take shape until a tall, slender high elf stood before them. Soft, pale light glowed around her form. She smiled.

Grimvalt put a hand on his sword. “Who are you?”

“I am Delinia.”

“Right,” he said. “Delinia of the phallus.”

“Not quite.”

“Wait!” Airsk shouted, pushing everyone out of the way until he reached the front. “I know what to do,” he insisted, and bowed grandly before the elf. “For our first wish, we wish for a million wishes. No! Wait! We wish for infinity wishes!”

The elf’s face fell. One hand went to her waist. Tilting her head to the side, she frowned at Airsk.

“Is there anyone else I can speak with?”