Jubeka’s Plan & Author’s Notes (6/6)

“Now,” Jubeka continued, “I have something to confess to you.” She smiled broadly with that unnerving Forsaken rictus grin. “It is a secret, but you are already geased to keep this secret by your attunement to my journal. How did you come by The Codex of Xerrath?”

“It came to me in the mail, from someone I do not know, but who claimed to be a friend of a friend of a friend.” Kalaneia thought about it. The handwriting on the parcel and the accompanying note had suggested Stormwind, so probably a human warlock, who would therefore be a friend of the human mage Kinevra, who was a friend of Kalaneia’s younger cousin Kaelinda.

“Let me have it for a minute. I will re-set the lock, and then you will send it on to some other warlock. Or you may sell it on the Auction House, for all I care. Though after all this time, I think there are probably few warlocks remaining who have the willpower and skill to taste the fel and not be overpowered by it who have not already come to me.”

“What?!”

“The Codex of Xerrath is a real volume, and I have it — but your Codex of Xerrath is a fake. A fraud. A forgery. A hoax. There are several other copies just like it, circulating among the warlocks of Azeroth. After I first Banished Kanrethad, I considered many methods for keeping the Banishment stable and reducing his excess power. At length, I devised this ruse for bringing other warlocks here to siphon off the fel power, a little bit at a time. Don’t look so surprised. Surely you’d observed other warlocks wielding green fire, and wondered where they’d learned it?”

Well, yes, Kalaneia had. Aeda Brightdawn at Frostwall Garrison was the first to come to mind.

But if this had happened many, many times…?

Jubeka saw the question on Kalaneia’s face and answered before she could verbalize it. “Oh, yes, Kranosh and his Alliance counterpart are in on it. So is Akama. They play their parts quite well, don’t you think? And now, when Azeroth has a true need for the Council of the Black Harvest, perhaps enough of that excess fel power has been bled away from Kanrethad that I think we might, under the proper circumstances, and with the proper safeguards, be able to release him.”

~*~*~

~*~*~

Author’s Notes

This story and the one about the Battered Hilt are linked on a meta level by more than both being epic lore-filled quest chains. It was when I acquired the Tome of the Lost Legion (from the AH, in fact) that I decided that I’d better actually go do the Battered Hilt questline. And it was when, having read that the Warlock Order Hall Champions were the remaining members of the Council of the Black Harvest, I decided that I ought to do the Green Fire questline with my Warlock before doing the opening Order Hall & acquisition of first Artifact weapon sequences of Legion — you know, so that she would have already met these people and know what they were about — that I then decided that I’d better get the story about Quel’Delar written up and posted before I set out to write a story about the Council of the Black Harvest.

The Green Fire questline came out with Patch 5.2 — the Throne of Thunder raid patch. This story, however, is set at the point in the overall timeline when I actually did the questchain — between my Warlock’s participation in the Battle at the Broken Shore and when she began her Legion leveling. Dealing with the time-skip of having spent all of Warlords idling in my Garrison was a challenge, but ultimately a good opportunity, as I hope you can see from this final installment.

Like most of my stories, I wrote about half of it, then got stuck and let it gather dust in my Drafts folder for a year or two before getting around to finishing it. In this case, I wrote through the end of Part 2 in the initial burst of inspiration, then wrote the rest of it over the past couple of weeks.

Because I’d just reviewed the Green Fire questline, when I went to do the part of the Legion Warlock Order Hall Campaign that involved recruiting Kanrethad as the 9th Champion, I felt like the characterizations of Jubeka and Kanrethad didn’t quite match up. In the Green Fire questline, it seemed like Jubeka and Kanrethad utterly despised and detested one another, and yet now Jubeka was calling Kanrethad an “old friend” and feeling guilty about having had to Banish him? Well, I suppose that some years of living mostly in isolation with just Kanrethad’s Banished form for company might distort Jubeka’s perspective a bit… I decided to let my interpretation of Jubeka in the Green Fire questline for this story lie where I’d left it.

In case you were wondering, here’s what Kalaneia was wearing for this adventure. It’s outfit #21 in “Things my Warlock Wears”.

Shadow Reaper

Yalia’s Cowl, Earthripple Shoulderpads, Robe of the Shadow Council, Felcast Cord, Exiled Dabbler’s Gloves, Saltarello Shoes, Staff of the Left Hand Path

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A Taste of Fel Energy (5/6)

Kalaneia dropped Jubeka’s soulstone into the soulwell and a final memory appeared. A grandiose Demonic Gateway unfolded from the ground. Kalaneia only recognized the demonic figure that stepped through as Kanrethad Ebonlocke because Jubeka’s memory labeled it as him.

Kanrethad viciously attacked Jubeka. During the fierce battle, he summoned a Pit Lord, then an enormous pack of Wild Imps. Jubeka cleverly defeated Kanrethad’s minions, though Kalaneia could see that it was taxing all of her resources to do so.

At last, when Kanrethad had exhausted himself channeling a massive spell of destruction that he claimed to have stolen from Deathwing, Jubeka gained the upper hand and Banished him.

As the memory ended, Jubeka herself stepped out from behind one of the serpent statues.

“Hello, Kalaneia,” Jubeka said, “You have found me. But this is no place to talk. Come to my home and you can tell me why you have sought me out over tea.” She cast a Demonic Circle on the ground and gestured Kalaneia to step into it. When the familar crackling sensation cleared, Kalaneia found herself in a cave that had been furnished into a moderately comfortable dwelling.

“Go ahead, look around a bit,” Jubeka said, emerging from the Demonic Circle behind her. Kalaneia walked over to the cave entrance and looked out. She could see that this cave was very close to the Altar of Damnation, but its entrance was difficult to spot from outside. Turning back into the cave, she saw at the very back the statue-like Banished form of Kanrethad.

“Cheery company, isn’t he?” Jubeka smirked. “Kanrethad’s power is too great to allow him to be free. I’ll ensure he stays Banished, for as long as I exist. Still, a taste of the fel energies he is saturated with should cause no ill. Feel free to drain some for your own use.”

At Jubeka’s continued urging, Kalaneia hesitantly reached out to touch Kanrethad. The fel energy flowed into her, flowed through her — she felt herself somersaulting high, high into the air as the fel energy overflowed her — she was dimly aware that she was not hitting the cave roof — she landed, feeling at once exhilarated and nauseated.

She looked around for something to light on fire, to see how this new power would affect her spells. Spotting Jubeka’s fireplace, she cast a very small Incinerate. A sheet of green fire rippled across the room and the wood burst into green flames. They were oddly beautiful.

“Ah, thank you, dear,” said Jubeka, setting a teapot on a hook over the fire. “Should you ever grow tired of these effects, return to me here and I can purge the fel energy from you — for a price, of course. Now, tell me what you really came to find me for.”

Feeling somewhat abashed after all that had happened, Kalaneia brought The Codex of Xerrath out of her satchel and handed it to the Forsaken woman. “I was hoping that you would be able to read Nathrezim.”

“Alas, I cannot. But I know someone who can.” As Kalaneia watched, struggling to conceal her astonishment, Jubeka summoned an Observer and politely requested that it inspect the book.

The Observer scanned the pages as Jubeka held them up in front of its oversized eye. “Of course! This codex is written in the ancient Nathrezim tongue. Nathrezim, or the Dreadlords, as you call them, were once an enlightened and powerful race. Their skill in summoning and gateway magic was unsurpassed by any in the Great Dark Beyond. This particular tome contains instructions to open a gateway to another world. Sadly, I fear that world no longer exists. It was destroyed as a show of power during the enslavement of Xoroth. The tome is useless, I’m afraid. No warlock could open such a gateway alone.”*

Jubeka thanked the Observer and dismissed it. “I am sorry that you have come all this way for nothing,” she said, pouring Kalaneia a cup of tea. “But I sense that there is another, truer need that perhaps I can help you with.”

Not quite “nothing”, Kalaneia thought, considering all that she’d learned about demonology, the green fire, and how she now had an “in” with the Council of the Black Harvest. She explained about the Legion attacks on Azeroth, the failed battle at the Broken Shore, the escape of Illidan’s demon hunters from the Vault of the Wardens.

“Hmmm….” Jubeka tapped an already tea-soaked biscuit against the edge of her teacup until it broke and fell into the cup, spattering droplets out onto the tabletop. “Thank you for bringing me this news. The return of the Legion to Azeroth is indeed a dire matter. I think the time has come at last to reconvene the Council of the Black Harvest. I will make preparations to contact Rittsyn and the others. We’ll be in touch with you when we’ve reassembled.”

“But what will you do with Kanrethad?” Kalaneia asked.

“Oh, I’ll take him with me. He’s not actually all that hard to transport in this form, and much better company.”

~*~*~

*If a Warlock who has the Grimoires of Supremacy talent summons an Observer for the quest to ask your demons about the book near the beginning of the quest chain, this is what the Observer says.

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Infiltrating the Black Temple (4/6)

Kalaneia studied Jubeka’s soulstone. Somehow, this object was supposed to help her find its creator. Would the object, as a whole, play hot-and-cold with her to find Jubeka in the same way that the fragments had to help her find them? She turned this way and that, holding the soulstone out in front of her. It didn’t seem to change temperature, but whenever she faced east, toward the Black Temple, it seemed like it began to tug at her.

As she approached the Black Temple, Kalaneia was a bit surprised that the tugging of Jubeka’s soulstone did not pull aside to the breach in the side wall that led to the sewers. Even after the defeat of Illidan, the mopping-up crews assembled by the Aldor and the Scryers — still competing with each other to prove that they would be the best helpers for Akama and the Ashtongue Broken — had continued to come in through that sewer entrance, leaving the great gates into the main courtyard of the temple sealed. But no, Jubeka’s soulstone pulled her right up to those gates.

When she got close, Kalaneia could see an elaborate sigil glowing on the gates — the same sigil that was embossed on the cover of Jubeka’s journal.

This, too, she suspected would only be visible to a Warlock attuned to Jubeka’s journal. She reached out to touch it — and instantaneously, with the same sensation as stepping into one of her own Demonic Circles, she found herself standing beside a much smaller rendering of the symbol, at a relatively inconspicuous location inside the courtyard.

Many Ashtongue Broken were patrolling the courtyard. At first, Kalaneia thought she might have to sneak past them. She was attempting to do so when one of the Ashtongue looked at her directly — and to her surprise, he nodded at her and waved her by. There was something vaguely familiar about his face. It occurred to her that some of the Ashtongue might recognize her from all that time she’d spent here with those Scryer mopping-up crews. It seemed that, because of the assistance she’d given them, they also respected* and at least minimally trusted her. Good. This would make trying to find Jubeka somewhat easier — if she was still here at all, given that it had been a few years since she’d sent her journal to Kranosh.

Entering the Sanctuary of Shadows, Kalaneia began scanning for signs of Jubeka — perhaps other instances of the sigil, smaller and more subtle? At the foot of a pillar, she spotted a scroll emblazoned not with Jubeka’s mark, but with the rune of the Illidari. Odd, that. The last time she’d been here with the Scryer crews, a year or two ago, it had looked like the Ashtongue were finally getting the place properly cleaned up, getting rid of the mess left behind by Illidan’s lackeys. Had the Ashtongue here even heard yet of the events at the Broken Shore, of the escape of the demon hunters from the Vault of the Wardens?

As she bent to pick up the scroll, something heavy smacked the back of her skull. As she stood there, stunned, ears ringing, Akama stepped out of the shadows. “Foolish warlocks,” he snarled, “I knew you would try again to ransack our temple!”

Through the pain, Kalaneia began to contemplate how she could convince Akama to help her find Jubeka. Before she could get her aching brain to form coherent words, Akama spoke again. “Wait… You’re not one of those warlocks that snuck in here before. Why then are you here… Scryer Kalaneia?” He recognized her. That was good. “What do you want from the Black Temple? Stay a moment and speak with me, rather than skulk about like a rogue.”

What to say came to her in a flash of inspiration. “Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde and Dark Lady of the Forsaken, urgently requests and requires the return of her advisor Jubeka Shadowbreaker.”

Akama harumphed. “Scryer Kalaneia, you and your Horde did much to aid my people in freeing the Black Temple from Illidan’s grasp. I will help you as a show of mutual trust and repayment of the debt we owe you.”

He turned and began walking toward the formerly orc-infested area of the temple. “It has been some years since those two warlocks broke into the temple… but I’m still not sure what they were after. They visited the Shrine of Lost Souls and the temple summit.” Akama paused to speak to the guard at the entrance to the Halls of Anguish. “I have decided to trust this warlock… for now. Allow her to move about the temple freely.” The guard nodded and stepped aside to let them pass. “It will take many years for us to undo the damage that Magtheridon, Illidan, and the fel orcs did to this holy place.” Akama sighed heavily. “Within lies the Shrine of Lost Souls. The souls of thousands of my fallen brethren remain within this area. Use caution, there are many traps here.” His voice turned sour. “Perhaps one of your demon spells will grant you the ability to scout ahead before advancing forward.” He stalked away.

Kalaneia decided to take the hint as another good-faith gesture. She was certain that Akama knew exactly what “demon spell” he had referred to so obliquely. She summoned her Eye of Kilrogg and began to explore the broken hallway leading down into the shrine. Through the Eye, she saw a maze of shadow traps.

This was… new since she’d been here last with the Scryers… The Eye of Kilrogg wasn’t just useful for spying, though. By using it to place a series of Demonic Gateways, Kalaneia easily navigated the invisible maze.

When she stepped into the Shrine of Souls, Jubeka’s soulstone released another memory.

No sooner had the memory ended than an entity similar to the Essences of Suffering, Desire, and Anger that Kalaneia had defeated before arose from the back of the chamber and sprang to attack her.

Between being caught flat-footed and the fury with which the Essence of Order attacked, Kalaneia barely defeated it. In fact, she died to its flames mere moments after it succumbed to her spells. Fortunately, she had taken the precaution of storing her soul in a soulstone of her own before entering the maze.

As it fell, the reliquary shouted, “If you love demons so much, then you shall have them!” The hallway leading back to the Halls of Anguish was now free of the shadow traps and filled with demons that had apparently been bound within the Essence of Order. If Kalaneia had come here a few years ago, when she first received the mysterious book in her mailbox, these demons might have been troublesome for her. As it was, she and Mezzthyk squashed them like bugs.

Akama was waiting for Kalaneia near the exit of the Halls of Anguish. More fallen demons lay all around him. He glared at her suspiciously. “Kalaneia!” he barked, “Some of my men are trapped in the basement. There is little time. Help me save them!” Without waiting for her reply, he ran through the door leading down to the area where Gurtogg Bloodboil had once been kept.

Kalaneia almost started after him, but then she remembered that he’d said that the other warlocks had also gone up to the temple summit. Now could be her chance to get up there and locate Jubeka without interference! Pausing briefly to dismiss Mezzthyk and summon Pagnar, she headed toward the Den of Mortal Delights. The imp became very excited as they entered the lair of Illidan’s blood elven minions. “There’s gotta be some riches around this place!” Pagnar exclaimed. His voice took on a pleading, whining tone, “C’mon, boss, you know you want to…”

Sure enough, the Ashtongue had not yet finished cleaning up this part of the temple. Small gems and gold coins lay scattered all about. Kalaneia began picking up all that she saw. Soon, she noticed that there were more valuable items, such as rings, necklaces, and golden dishes, too. She began to collect these items, as well. After about five minutes, however, she stopped short. “This is a waste of time,” she said, dumping the pile of trinkets on Pagnar. “Take this junk and get rid of it, and bring me whatever money you get for it.” Pagnar took the loot and vanished, cackling gleefully.

A lone Shivarra remained on the terrace once occupied by Mother Shahraz. It was easily defeated. Kalaneia raced through the promenades and council rooms of Illidan’s higher-ranking servants until she reached the doors to the temple summit. Illidan’s runes still glowed there, but they no longer bound the doors shut.

As she pushed open the doors, Pagnar popped out at her side. “We got a lotta cash for all that crap!” he chortled. Kalaneia glared at him, and he shut up.

Looking across the temple summit, Kalaneia spotted a soulwell at the far side of the platform. She hurried across to it. Somehow, she knew that if she placed Jubeka’s soulstone within it, she would know where to find the Forsaken warlock.

~*~*~

*Kalaneia had reached Revered with the Ashtongue Broken from soloing Black Temple for Mog gear.

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The Fragmented Soulstone (3/6)

Studying the journal, Kalaneia wondered at first why Jubeka was wasting her time with the elementary summons that every novice Warlock learned. Eventually, she realized that the Forsaken woman’s methodical, thorough mastery of the simplest summonings was what allowed her to dare to attempt much more dangerous bindings.

The journal discussed Jubeka’s research at four locations in greater detail than others: Felspark Ravine in Hellfire Peninsula, the Ruins of Farahlon in Netherstorm, the Vim’Gol ogre circle in Blade’s Edge Mountains, and the Altar of Damnation in Shadowmoon Valley.

~*~*~

It still seemed wrong to go through a Mage portal in Orgrimmar instead of the Dark Portal in the Blasted Lands to get to Hellfire Peninsula. Almost as soon as she stepped out into the oven-like heat of that ruined land, Kalaneia became aware of a curious tingling sensation on her arms, her shoulders, and the back of her neck. It felt cold, somehow. She flew slowly along Felspark Ravine toward Thrallmar, scanning the ground below her and wondering how well Jubeka had hidden her soulstone. The tingling sensation began to feel warmer, then suddenly flared into a burning even hotter than the ambient temperature. The burning subsided as quickly as it had begun, and her arms were feeling chilly again by the time she approached the outer stockade of Thrallmar.

Seeking a hidden object… Cold — and then hot — and then cold again… It was like a game that children played… Kalaneia turned her flying mount around and went back along Felspark Ravine, even more slowly this time. When the tingling sensation flared into almost unbearable heat, she brought her mount straight down. Carefully, she searched around and underneath the rocks where she had landed. Hidden in a crevice, so deeply in shadow that she might have missed it if she didn’t know what she was looking for, she found it: a dark purple gem, glowing faintly with a swirling inner light, smooth on some of its faces and jagged on the others. As soon as she grasped it, the tingling sensation completely disappeared.

This Jubeka is very clever, Kalaneia thought.

~*~*~

Although the Vim’gol ogre circle in Blade’s Edge Mountains was closer — and she would pass it on the way — Kalaneia decided to go next to the Ruins of Farahlon, in Netherstorm, because that was the next place that Jubeka had mentioned in her journal. Once again, as she approached the indicated location, her arms, shoulders and neck began to tingle: cold — colder even than the ambient temperature of that wasteland — then warmer, then suddenly burning. She found the soulstone fragment buried in a heap of shattered furniture and other rubble in one of the collapsed dwellings near the outer edge of the ruined town. When she pulled the gem from its hiding place, ghostly figures appeared in the street outside the house. Kalaneia realized that Jubeka had imbued this fragment with a memory of something that she had learned here…

~*~*~

The Vim’gol ogre circle was littered with a disgusting detritus of magical implements, ingredients, and residues that contained several soulstones or fragments of soulstones. Some of them even still glowed. When Kalaneia put her hand on the correct one, though, she knew it immediately — not only because the tingling on her skin stopped, but also because another memory appeared…

~*~*~

The final soulstone fragment lay at the foot of the summoning cirle that still glowed in the earth before the Altar of Damnation. Although it seemed to be lying in plain sight, Kalaneia was certain that only a Warlock who was attuned to Jubeka’s journal would see it as something other than one of the myriad dull pebbles scattered around the site. This fragment, too, held a memory…

This memory was clearly non-trivial. Quite astute, that Kanrethad, to choose someone who disliked and distrusted him, to ensure that they would banish him, and banish him well, should he fail.

With all four fragments of Jubeka’s soulstone now collected, it took Kalaneia only a few minutes to puzzle out how the jagged faces fit together. Holding the broken soulstone with the pieces correctly aligned loosely in her hand, she wondered how to make it whole again. Aha — in the rituals for summoning and for banishing, there was a repeated string of syllables that meant something more or less like “binding”. Perhaps if she incanted just those syllables… Even as her lips began to form the syllables, she saw that the pieces had fused together and the soulstone now lay whole in her hand. But it was empty.

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The Council of the Black Harvest (2/6)

Kalaneia considered what Mezzthyk and Aelyla had told her about the book. A text that was perhaps about a ritual to connect two stars — worlds, most likely — written in the script the Nathrezim used on their homeworld… this tome could be more ancient than she had originally thought. It might even pre-date the assimilation of the Nathrezim into the Burning Legion. Fascinating, indeed.

Now where might she find a reader for the dead tongue of the Nathrezim?

Hmm, perhaps the Forsaken? The Banshee Queen had had Dreadlords in her service — until their sudden, yet inevitable betrayal. Though Aelyla had said that the Dreadlords rarely used their ancestral script outside of their home, perhaps there was a Forsaken warlock who had been able to learn some of it.

Assuming that Sylvanas would have brought her most powerful servants to Orgrimmar with her after she became Warchief, Kalaneia traveled to Orgrimmar. To her disappointment, only Orcish warlocks were in residence in the Cleft of Shadow.

“What…?” The apparent chief of the Orcish warlocks, Kranosh, seemed quite taken aback by Kalaneia’s request for information about the whereabouts of Sylvanas’s warlocks. “Where in the great dark did you find that?” he exclaimed when she showed him the book, by way of explanation.

Kalaneia shrugged. “I didn’t find it. It found me.”

“Well, now,” Kranosh mused, “this book may be just the leverage we have been seeking.”

Now it was Kalaneia’s turn to be taken aback. “What…? You didn’t even know this book existed until I showed it to you just a moment ago.”

“Exactly,” said Kranosh. “Tell me, acolyte,” — Kalaneia bristled momentarily at the junior form of address — “what do you know of the Council of the Black Harvest?”

“I… have not heard of any organization by that specific name,” Kalaneia admitted. There had been rumors, though; rumors filtered through the gossip mill at the Halfhill Market, rumors brought by the adventurers who trickled through the Frostwall Tavern, more potent and believable rumors discussed by the coven of warlocks that Kalaneia had been carefully cultivating at Frostwall. “I have heard, however, of a society secretive even for us, a society said to ignore the boundary between Horde and Alliance. A society thought to be responsible for the disappearance of Shinfel Blightsworn.”

Shinfel was a Sin’dorei warlock who had honed the art of using shadow and fel magic to afflict and torment her enemies to a very fine edge; she was notorious for her cruelty. Shinfel had been part of the raiding party that had finally taken down Cho’Gall in the Bastion of Twilight; her blood had become corrupted during the fight and her arms were now covered in black marks where the corruption had erupted from her skin. It was after that experience that she had taken the name “Blightsworn”; it had only served to increase her sadism. Shinfel hadn’t been seen by anyone since about the time that the Sunreaver Onslaught and Kirin Tor Offensive began their effort to control the Isle of Thunder*; there were many even in the secret chambers of Silvermoon who were glad that she was gone.

“Is this the society of which you speak? What does this have to do with my book, and with my search for someone who can translate it?”

Kranosh chuckled. “Ha ha, to know even that much, you are very well informed!” He continued, “Your instinct to seek out a Forsaken to help you was good; if there is anyone who is not themselves a demon that knows enough about demons to read your book, it is Jubeka Shadowbreaker. Unfortunately, she, too, has been missing these past few years — and your mysterious tome might be just the thing to lure her out of whatever hole she has been hiding in.”

“Why do you think she is in hiding, rather than just outright dead?” Kalaneia asked, puzzled.

“Because, like Shinfel, she was a member of the Council of the Black Harvest. After the defeat of Deathwing, six of the greatest warlocks gathered together with the intention of teaching all warlocks advanced forms of magic stolen from our defeated foes. They made a pact, and then they all disappeared. Jubeka kept a record of that meeting. She left it here when she departed on her quest. Let her tell you what happened…” Kranosh gestured toward a slim sheaf of loosely bound parchment lying on a nearby shelf.

Kalaneia skimmed through the notes. It was remarkable how well-balanced this Council was: three from the Horde, three from the Alliance, one from each faction of the three main paths that warlocks tended to follow — destruction, affliction, and demonology. They had divided up pairwise by favored school** and gone in search of the darkest, most powerful magic they could find: the Orc, Rittsyn, and the Worgen, Zinnin, to the Firelands to search for Sulfuras; the Sin’dorei, Shinfel, and the Gnome, Zelifrax, to hunt down the remainder of the Twilight’s Hammer; the Forsaken, Jubeka, and the Human, Kanrethad, to Outland to pursue greater mastery of demons. The pact had been that they should return together — or be destroyed by the others.

“And when the year was up?” she inquired, though she already thought she knew what the answer would be.

“None of them returned,” Kranosh replied. “But we already suspected that they would not. About three months after they left, we received a package from Outland. It contained this.” He turned to the shelf and rummaged through the other books and scrolls lying on it until he found a book that looked like one of the experiment logs used by the Royal Apothecary Society. He handed it to Kalaneia, flicking the note on the back cover as he did. “Jubeka’s journal of her research in Outland. It seems that a need to locate her has now arisen. Read the journal and use the information contained within to track down where she went. If you can find the soulstones she talks about in that note on the back, you should be able to use them to locate her.”

~*~*~

* The Green Fire questline came out with Patch 5.2, which was also the Throne of Thunder raid patch. Dealing with the time-skip of having spent all of Warlords idling in my Garrison was a challenge for this story. The wording of Kalaneia’s information on Shinfel Blightsworn is mostly directly quoted from page 3 of Legacy of the Masters (Part 1). It seemed logical to me that if the six members of the Council of the Black Harvest were such powerful and prominent Warlocks, they ought to at least have been known by members of their own races. Thus, Kalaneia should already know about the Sin’dorei member of the Council.

** It bugs me a great deal, therefore, that as Order Hall Champions in Legion, four of the six members of the Council of the Black Harvest have their specializations all mixed up. Rittsyn is still Destruction and Shinfel is still Affliction but Jubeka the Master Demonologist is now Destruction. Kanrethad the Master Demonologist is now Affliction. Zinnin who was Destruction is now Affliction. Zelifrax was Affliction, but his replacement Lulubelle is Demonology.

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The Mysterious Ancient Tome (1/6)

Apart from the chains and socket binding it, the book seemed quite normal. How it had gotten into her hands was something of a mystery; it had simply appeared in the mailbox of her Halfhill farmhouse one day, a parcel wrapped in ordinary brown paper tied with ordinary twine, with a note, scrawled in an unfamiliar hand (with a vestigal style of penmanship that suggested Stormwind), reading simply:
A friend of mine told me that a friend of a friend of hers (that would be you) might find one of these useful. — Cim

Feeling content in her current prowess, however, Kalaneia had laid it aside. There would be time enough to probe its mysteries later.

~*~*~

Time passed, in the way that time does when one is not giving it sufficient attention.

~*~*~

Kalaneia looked out upon the patches of fel-blackened earth marring the Barrens and determined that now it was time.

After about a month, the Legion assaults on Orgrimmar’s rear gate, the Crossroads, Gadgetzan, Tarren Mill, Kharanos, and Sentinel Hill had stopped as abruptly as they had begun. The commoners breathed sighs of relief and began attempting to put their lives and psyches back together, but Kalaneia knew that the Legion’s apparent retreat was not what it might seem. The attempt by the Horde and the Alliance to crush the Legion invasion at its center, the Tomb of Sargeras on the Broken Isles, had been an unmitigated disaster. More horror was yet to come… and more raw power would be needed to push it back.

Yes, now it was time to open the book, discover its secrets, and master its power.

~*~*~

Truly inspecting the book for the first time, Kalaneia noticed that as she examined the mysterious socket that locked the chains together, her fingers began to feel unnaturally stiff and cold. The sensation swiftly spread up past her knuckles, twisting her hand into a crone’s claw, almost reaching her wrist before she snatched her hand away. As she massaged feeling back into her aching hand, she realized what had happened. Quickly, she conjured a Healthstone and pressed the glowing green oval into the socket. It fit perfectly. As she had anticipated, the Healthstone rapidly dulled and faded to blackish-grey as the socket absorbed the life energy contained within, and the curious clasp fell open.

Given the apparent ancient age and unfamilar, quite possibly non-Azerothian, materials and craftsmanship of the book, Kalaneia wasn’t surprised to discover that she was unable to read the ornate, sprawling script in which the book was written. The problems now were three: first, determine the language in which the mysterious text was written; second, determine if there was anyone who could translate that language; and third, determine how best to compel that person to do so, if they initially proved to be unwilling.

The elaborate symbols on the pages looked somewhat similar to the demonic runes that she knew, but not similar enough for her to be confident that she could correctly discern any of their meanings. As she studied the unfamiliar runes, it occurred to her that perhaps one of her demon servants might be able to recognize them better than she herself could.

Kalaneia snapped her fingers in the direction of her imp, Pagnar, who was on the other side of the room, toasting ants as they emerged from a crack at the base of the wall. She’d always considered imps to be rather like cats that were capable of speech, so she didn’t really think he’d be very helpful, but she figured she ought to at least ask him before summoning one of the more intelligent ones.

Pagnar hopped over, squawking unintelligibly, and asked lazily, “…yeah? ‘Sup, boss?”

Kalaneia held the tome down in front of his face. “Do these runes mean anything to you?”

“Hmm…” Pagnar pretended to ponder for a second or two, then turned a backflip. “Nope! Sorry, boss, I have no idea. Zip, zilch, nada, none.” He turned another backflip, for emphasis. “Do you have something for me to burn, or can I go now?”

“Go take a nap,” Kalaneia replied, and began summoning her voidwalker.

Mezzthyk materialized with its usual complaining sigh: “I don’t like this place.” It looked around and threw up its hands, exclaiming, “Dismiss me, mistress! I wish to return to the void.”

Ignoring its whining, Kalaneia showed it the book. “What can you tell me about this tome?”

“Words are not the way of the void,” Mezzthyk protested, but as it looked at the book, the cant of its brow shifted from irritated to intrigued, and it reached out and flipped back and forth through the pages. “This is… curious, mistress… I do not know… this part… appears to connect two… stars? together… I cannot make out any more than that,” it concluded, shrugging. “Send me back.”

“This time,” Kalaneia replied, and dismissed it.

Kalaneia despised succubi in general, and she despised the sort of warlock who preferred them even more. Nonetheless, succubi were perhaps the most intelligent of the lesser demons that novice warlocks routinely learned to control. It had been so long since Kalaneia had summoned “her” succubus, though, that it took a few moments to recall the correct form of the incantation.

“Why, hell-o, Miss-tress!” Aelyla pouted. “I was beginning to be afraid that you had forgotten all about me!” Her pout turned to a simper. “What kind of… service can I provide you today…?”

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” Kalaneia snapped. “You were glad that I’d forgotten all about you, and we both know it. Look at this book and tell me anything and everything that you might know about it.”

“What?” Aelyla made a face. “You just want me to look at some dirty old tome? Ugh,” she rolled her eyes, “how disappointing.”

Despite her flippant tone, as the succubus examined the book, her bored expression became curious and focused, and she turned the pages with greater care*.

“How fascinating,” Aelyla drawled, “this text appears to be written in the script of the Nathrezim… you know, Dreadlords? They rarely use it outside of their home.” She closed the book and lightly traced the swirling pattern on the cover with a fingernail. “I think this says something like The Codex of Xerrath. Who or what was Xerrath? Maybe a sister world to Xoroth?” She handed the book back to Kalaneia. “Well, that wasn’t so un-interesting, after all. Do you have anything else that I can help you with?”

“Not today,” Kalaneia replied, “Don’t call me; I’ll call you.” She dismissed the succubus and resummoned Pagnar.

“That was not enough of a nap!” the imp grumbled.

~*~*~

* Some of Aelyla’s reaction to the book is informed by the Legion Archaeology item that reveals that succubi like to keep journals.

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Things my Warlock Wears, part 5 (outfits 41 – 50)

A collection of Transmogrification Kits actually worn in-game by my Blood Elf Warlock. Outfits are listed from most recent to least recent. Items that are no longer obtainable are marked with an asterisk (*).

49) Fel Heart


Felheart Raiment with Cloak of the Untamed Predator and Scepter of Sargeras (Light’s Heart tint)
It must be the crimson with gold trim and green accents that make this set seem the most Sin’dorei of all the Warlock Tier sets to me.

48) Death by a Thousand Cuts

Black Rose Amice, Cataclysmic Gladiator’s Felweave Raiment, Catalcysmic Gladiator’s Cord of Accuracy, Junglepicker Gloves, Withered Slippers
When Kalaneia dinged 110, the next stage of her Order Hall Campaign was to rescue Shinfel Blightsworn. Because rescuing Shinfel was what Kishalla came to Dreadscar Rift to demand that The Netherlord do, Kalaneia promptly assigned her to do it.
This robe is suitably melodramatic for the “life is pain” mindset of an Affliction Warlock, though it has never particularly appealed to me. It looks terribly uncomfortable. Kishalla, however, insisted upon wearing it, perhaps to prove to Shinfel that she had not “gone soft” in her erstwhile tutor’s absence.

47) Golden Goddess


Helm of the Fire Festival, Mantle of the Fire Festival, Elegant Robes/Robes of the Battleguard, Cloudscorcher Leggings, Wild Gladiator’s Gloves of Prowess + Nightvale Wristwraps, Kurkenstoks, Nimboya’s Mystical Staff*
A silly outfit for the Midsummer Fire Festival.
Either of these robes is “the obvious choice” for this sort of outfit.
The Bling Cane is a good alternative for the staff.

46) Aspirant’s Vestment of the Chosen Dead

Hood of Rationality, Dark Coven Shoulderpads (10N), Robes of Celestial Adornment (LFR), Telubis’ Binding of Patience, Leggings of the Lower Planes (LFR), Oiled Rigger’s Handwraps (LFR), Junglestrider Sandals, Drape of the Unworthy (LFR), Distant Land
I acquired most of the major pieces of the LFR version of the Trial of Valor set while working on the quest to get the Normal version. When I was done with the quest, however, I didn’t want to keep trying for the LFR pieces I hadn’t gotten yet.

45) Leyfrost

Leywalker set with Frostscythe of Lord Ahune
This coloration of the Legion leveling cloth set is obtained in Azsuna.
With another character, I might have chosen another weapon — but for my Warlock, this scythe was the most best choice.

44) Scarlet Powah!

Nightvale Cowl, Mantle of Three Terrors, Robe of Power, Primal Combatant’s Cord of Prowess, Exiled Dabbler’s Gloves, Infernoweave Boots, Staff of the Forest Lord
Perhaps because its matching hat is Whitemane’s Chapeau, I’ve always associated this robe with the Scarlet Crusade.

43) Weeping Widow



Crown of Dark Blossoms, Silver-Thread Amice, Black Velvet Robes, Mana-Cord of Deception (N), Exiled Dabbler’s Gloves, Sorcerer Slippers, Chillwind Staff
Considering that 80 – 90 % of the Quel’dorei population is supposed to have perished in Arthas’ attack on Eversong Woods and the Sunwell, very few Sin’dorei are likely to have their families fully intact. Kalaneia’s husband was among those who gave their lives attempting to defend Silvermoon.
Kalaneia believed that her estranged daughter had been lost, too, until Kishalla showed up at Dreadscar Rift demanding that the Netherlord help her find her missing mistress, Shinfel Blightsworn. That both mother and daughter have become Warlocks has not made their relationship any less complicated…

42) Blissful Bride


Crown of Good Fortune, Aurora Mantle & Robe, Mana-Cord of Deception (LFR), Exiled Dabbler’s Gloves, Sage’s Boots, Mardenholde Staff
This outfit and the next one are adapted and updated from a pair of outfits I made a few years ago for a series of Transmogrification challenges in which one of the prompts was “married” — though I made them for one of my very minor characters at the time. When I pruned that character at the beginning of Legion, some of her RP story got transferred to Kalaneia.
The little knife on the belt may have some sort of ceremonial function or symbolic meaning — or it might be purely decorative.

41) Aethas’ Second

Circle of Flame, Soot-Covered Mantle, Elemental Raiment, Silver-Thread Sash, Leggings of the Enslaved Idol, Constructor’s Handwraps, Sandals of Rash Temperament, Sunreaver Tabard, Archmage’s Staff*
The red recolor of the Ulduar Mage tier set is missing the chestpiece — which is fine if you’re just going to cover it up with the Sunreaver Tabard anyway.

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