(07) - Night's Creatures

Griffonclaw woke from his dream in a cold sweat, the kind of which was usually reserved for nightmares. This hadn't been a nightmare; far from it. But it was haunting both his sleeping and waking hours alike.

For the last week Griffonclaw had been experiencing very... sensual and erotic dreams. The first one had been rather enjoyable, and he hadn't given it a second thought - being a Paladin meant that he didn't have the usual outlets for such thoughts and desires, and as a consequence they had a tendency to manifest on other levels, in the dreamscape. This was a well-known phenomena amongst the Paladins and Priests who served the Cathedral of Light, and those occasional manifestations were acceptable.

The second night, the dream had gotten more intense, and the woman in the dream was the same. He had awoken not only in an aroused state, but with strange feelings of recognition and deja vu, as though he should know who the woman was... however, he dismissed both. Obviously, he had seen a woman who had attracted him on some primal level, and she was lodged in his subconscious.

After the third night, the dream had gotten... darker. There was less romance in the dream, and more of an appeal to some darker impulses. Instead of slow, gentle love-making, they had coupled with an animalistic frenzy, with rougher caresses, bites... almost a form of combat. The fourth night... was even moreso. Griffonclaw was disturbed by the trend, and by his reactions to it - he seemed to be both spectator and enthusiastic participant in the dream.

It was also the night where he became convinced that perhaps these weren't solely the product of his own imagination and subconscious; however, there were few inside the Cathedral of the Light, given his rough recent history, that he felt comfortable speaking with on the matter. Ultimately, he sought the assistance of Nalani, a priestess of Khaz, whose relaxed attitude and patient, non-judgemental forbearance had made her services quite popular in Ironforge. He had described the dreams to her, and she had agreed that they seemed like some sort of sending. Together, they had approached Tbelle, the leader of their company, who had concurred, and taken immediate steps.

Two days had passed with more vivid dreams, each one slightly more darker than the last, while Tbelle consulted with others of the Hammer of Magni, slowly eliminating possibilities. Slowly, different types of magic were tested for during the night, and eliminated; it was not druidic or shamanistic in nature, nor did it bear the hallmarks of magery. Finally, Desmorta identified it as demonic in nature... the sending of a Succubus.

Tonight they had laid a snare, and the dream had ended suddenly, with a painful backlash which had woken Griffonsbane. Dressing quickly, he rushed up from his basement-level inn-room to the guild's private chamber, where Desmorta, Tbelle, and Windsor had been waiting.

The chamber had been modified to the needs of the moment; Desmorta had inscribed a pentagram in silver on the floor, and surrounded it with a circle, eldrich symbols inscribed carefully. They had set wards about the Stonefire Tavern, leaving only one way seemingly unguarded... and when the succubus had come, traveling the ether to further work upon Griffonclaw's mind, it had been ensnared by Desmorta in the circle and pentagram.

Griffonclaw joined Tbelle and Windsor, who were watching Desmorta struggle with the demon for control; the challenge was not so much controlling the demon itself, but at the same time wresting control from the Warlock who had sent it and prevent that Warlock from dismissing it. Bands of arcane energy were holding the demon to this plane, and Desmorta was pronouncing Words of Power, wracking the demon in agony as their destructive energy passed from demon to summoner. Griffonclaw watched the sweat trickle down her nose as she conducted her battle by proxy, the demon's body a battleground between Warlocks.

Desmorta shuddered in pain as the enemy Warlock struck back, hard... but Tbelle was already chanting, and life-sustaining energy passed from Priestess to Warlock, countering the damage. For minutes they struggled thus, until the demon, conduit for forces beyond its ability to sustain, began to slowly discorporiate, disintegrating into swirls of all-consuming fire, until it was gone.

Desmorta stood, her body quivering with exhaustion. "Well, so much for that..." she said, and from the proud tone in her voice Griffonclaw knew she had been at least partially victorious. "The person who sent the demon is named Demisette. Demisette Cloyce."

* * *

Ursula Deline was furious when she was shown into the privy office of Archbishop Benedictus. . A representative of SI:7, the Stormwind intelligence service, had delivered the news that if she failed to present herself immediately to His Grace at the Cathedral of Light, there would be a warrant issued for her arrest. She had proceeded to the Cathedral, where she had cooled her heels with others for several hours.

Already tired from her exertions in the Arts the night before, she was in no mood to dance attendance on anyone, whether Archbiship or altar boy, but she was equally aware that those who practiced the Infernal Arts were skating on thin ice in all parts of the Alliance. As such, and as a known leader and mentor of Warlocks, her public behavior was under somewhat more scrutiny than most.

The office was small, and filled with various scrolls and holy symbology. A dwarven lady stood beside the desk, and the Archbishop himself was stepping around the other side to greet her.

"Miss Deline, I am Archbishop Benedictus" began the priest. "Please make yourself comfortable."

Demisette looked at him as if he was some kind of Orcish delicacy. "With all due respect, Your Grace, I prefer to stand. Why have I been summoned here?" she demanded, some of her anger leaking through her controlled voice.

"Well, that I can't rightly answer" he said. "Technically, you are here to meet Miss Tbelle, the personal envoy of His Majesty, King Magni of Ironforge". He shook his head, sadly. "Unfortunately, I have been told her mission is one of some delicacy, so if you will excuse me, I will excuse myself?" He glanced over to Tbelle, who nodded, and he exited, shutting the door behind him.

"And now what can I do for His Majesty?" she asked His representative, although she had a sinking feeling she knew all too well.

"It has come to His attention that one of Warlocks has been attempting to interfere with one of His servants" informed Tbelle, who seemed calm and relaxed. "Any further actions against this servant - or any of His servants - will result in another letter, this time to General Jonathan for the arrest and extradition of your entire cabal".

"I see" responded Ursula.

"No, I don't think you do..." began Tbelle, her temper beginning to flare. "Griffonclaw is a member of the Hammers of Magni, and we operate under Royal charter. His Majesty is convinced that your associate - Demisette Cloyce, to be precise - is guilty of treason against one of His officers, and only the intercession of High King Mettatorque and his pet Warlocks has convinced him to not make this entire affair a circus; they would not have all Warlocks further stigmatized by a public trial for treason."

"And this one fellow - whose name escapes me" sneered the Warlock, "means so much?"

"Griffonclaw is a Hammer" Tbelle raged in response. "All of them matter to me, the Hammer of Magni has already proven its value to His Majesty. I will not not tolerate any interference, attacks, or disrespect shown to any of my company."

"And if King Magni hadn't agreed, you wouldn't be here - you'd be dead in that hole your cabal uses under The Slaughtered Lamb. You see, we know where to find you, and we always will. If she sticks her head up for our notice, like an errant nail, rest assured we will hammer it down... flat."

* * *

In a private workroom deep under The Slaughtered Lamb, a woman crawled for a chest.

The robes she had been wearing were blackened and charred. Much of her skin was covered in severe burns, and each inch she dragged herself was an agony. As she fumbled the latch on the chest, she could hear the voice again, which had spoken after she had found herself covered in brimstone fire, having lost control of her demon. The voice had said "Do not think to touch Griffonclaw again - he is beyond you, and under my protection. The Hammers are all under my protection, and I will rend your soul for the entertainment of hearing you scream into the Abyss if you poach those who are mine again! They are mine!"

* * *

Griffonclaw crumpled the parchement scroll from Archbishop Benedictus, and dropped it into the trash bin of his room. It had read:

"To Griffonclaw FitzSilver, from His Grace Archbishop Benedictus,

Your refusal to answer the questions of either myself or your direct superior, Lord Grayson Shadowbreaker, regarding the recent visitation of Tbelle and a known Warlock leader, leave us no alternative but to suspend you from the Defenders of the Light until such a time as your behavior..." Meaning my capitulation thought Griffonclaw bitterly.

"...warrants your reinstatement. Any further infractions of discipline will lead to your expulsion of the Order, and excommunication from the Cathedral of the Light. We all pray that you meditate deeply on this issue, and come to realize that your vows of obedience to both Order and Church supercede any other loyalty, so that we may welcome you back to the family of those who serve the Light.

Yours In Service To The Light,

Benedictus"

He shook his head, sighing deeply. He had suspected this was coming, and had been resigned to the result of his perceived disobedience to both Church and the head of his own Order. Griffonclaw had agreed to keep silent about the entire incident, knowing that the path urged by Tbelle had been correct; the legality of Warlocks in Stormwind was tenuous at best, and the Alliance would be severely weakened by any such schism - not only were the Warlocks powerful allies, but Desmorta had proved in the practice arena how potent they might prove as enemies as well.

And there was another reason he had agreed, that he had kept from Tbelle. The woman warlock Desmorta had claimed had seemed familiar in the dreams caused by her creature because she was familiar; she had been Griffonclaw's first lover during his noviate, and they had shared kisses and each others' bodies under the Stormwind sky. He had been head-over-heels in love with her, even knowing that she had begun training as a Warlock, and they had parted tearfully when he had been sent to Ironforge to serve the final stages of his noviate before being ordained a Defender of Light. He had not seen her since, but she had occupied his thoughts and not a few dreams even before.

If he obeyed his superiors and divulged the matter, her name would come up. Legal process or not, Demisette would end up dead. Even if it took every Paladin Lord Grayson could summon, Griffonclaw knew that he would not let such an affront to his Order go unpunished. More selfishly, if his old antagonist Bishop DeLavey found out about her prior involvement, he would make sure to use that to see Griffonclaw excommunicated.