(33) - The Scarlet Vengence - Part III

Death entered by the front door.

Since the decimation of the outlying towers and camps of the Scarlet Crusade, the Highlord Mograine had ordered additional patrols and sentries put out upon the grounds, and an increase in the patrols. At the entrance there were two of his finest, filled with the fervor of danger to their way of existance, accoutred in the finest plate armor, carrying sword and shield.... and alarm horns in hand. They were vigilant. They were dedicated. They were strong. They would not fail; any intruders would be apprehended, and the alarm horns sounded.

One them heard a whirling sound, and turned - there was a golden object, like a tiny shield-shaped meteor, headed his way! He brought his horn to his lips to sound an alarm. The Light-enhanced shield crashed into him like a buzzsaw, shattering horn, face, and skull before returning to its owner.

The other raised his horn and blew, hardly distracted by a flash of pain... but no sound came out. The pain in the soldier's throat increased, and he bought a hand up. Blood cascaded down his tabard and armor, and he found the source of the crimson waterfall... someone had soundlessly opened his throat with a razor's edge. He crumpled in a clatter, the bitter knowledge that he had failed in his duty his last thought.

Dalrick stepped from the shadows, cleaning his knife on the other - the relatively clean - dead sentry. Dalrick was a gnome of Ironforge, and a master of the shadows, his dark leathers and dark hood as one, blending in the darkness. His blades had been blackened with lampblack that he always carried in his fabled Bag of Tricks, so that the razor edges would not glint, betraying him in his stealth. The paladin had not had to call him; he was the master of espionage for the Elite Response Agency, and very little passed in Stormwind without his knowledge. It was he who had started the paladin on this path, when operatives of the Scarlet Monastary had ordered the paladin's leman abducted and beaten; he had keep track of the developments thereafter. When the paladin had come north to the desmesnes of the Scarlet Monastary, he had a shadow-stalking guardian, unbeknownst, at his shoulder. Several times his blades had dealt silent death while the paladin's attention was elsewhere; he was as fond of the paladin as he could be of any human, even those declared an honorary dwarf - the paladin had a reputation amongst the gnomes of Ironforge for making liberating forays into their homeland of Gnomergan, escorting trapped refugees to the surface and their surviving families. And besides - the paladin was constantly complementing his cooking. Such fellows were rare, and needed to be preserved.

Seconds later he was joined by the paladin, a fabled Argent Avenger blade flaming in one hand and horseshoe-shaped shield back on his arm. Seeing the dead sentries, the paladin made a hand-signal,and five more joined them on the steps. One kaldorei, one dwarf, and one human - and all were clad in well-padded mail or plate. Two of them bore firearms of different makes and models. A white-furred wolf padded up to the Paladin on silent paws. An old sled dog, muscles rippling beneath his pelt, stalked around, his size making the wolf look almost as a pup.

Kaela and Nikita. Teala and Spanner. Hunters and markswomen. All of them had served with the paladin in the Hammer of Magni before it lost its royal charter. They had come at his request without hesitation, the call of one brother to three sisters, bonds of conflict and love between them. Each of them had fought besides the paladin many times - no one could keep track of the times a well-placed shot or the ripping jaws of their companion had saved him, nor how many times the paladin had healed their damaged bodies, sometimes to the extent of luring a fled soul back to its corporal shell. They had traveled the length of Azeroth at his call, as he had at other times done at theirs; brothers and sisters of the Hammer, their feelings transcended mere guild affilialtion.

The human was a Paladin of the Order of Light in Stormwind. Her plate armor showed evidence of hard use, and she held an enormous axe in both hands. Valentia was still in the Hammer of Magni, and had served for years with distinction. She was beloved of Stormwind and Ironforge alike, known for her compassion as well as her ferocity in battle. Few could stand against her in battle, and her axe was feared from the Sunken Temple to the wilds of Feralas and beyond. She and the paladin had once been lovers, and engaged - and although their duties had led them in separate directions, the bonds of love, respect, and affection had weathered their time apart undiminished. His summons had been timely; she had already had her own encounter with the Scarlet Crusade when they had tried to trick and recruit her to their cause, and had been planning to visit this place herself - his invitation had been an example of perfect synchronicity.

They exchanged not a word; they had spent hours the morning before, discussing strategies and tactics, planning contingencies. The paladin was planning on being a thorough scourge to the men and women of the Scarlet Crusade in their home in Tirisfal. He wanted the Grand Inquisitor in Scholomance to rue the day his subordinates authorized action against Dathala - and they would pay in blood. As they planned, Keala had asked "Griffonclaw, is this reaction and vengance not a bit out of proportion?"

Griffonclaw had looked at her, a feral grin on his face. "Well, Keala... mayhap. Let us say that this is the last outrage I intend to countenance. Not too long ago, a friend of mine rescued his sister from their imprisonment. A lady named Ravenlock Ashlore was tortured at their hands, and bears their scars - inside and out - still. They have tortured and killed uncountable Kaldorei because they consider them 'unclean'... " He clenched his fists in anger and rage, although his voice remained calm and measured. "Consider this a delayed execution of sentance on them for all the attrocities they've collectively committed, and to some degree a pre-emptive strike against all those they may commit in the future."

He turned away, no longer able to contain the fury in his voice. "I would eradicate their whole Order, if I could..."

There had been no further discussion; Keala and the others all knew of the practices of the Scarlet Crusade, and how their taste for blood had made them as potent a threat as the Scourge and Forsaken they hunted. The Alliance officially turned a blind eye, rather than have two enemies on the North Kingdom - but that did not excuse their excesses.

All through the Scarlet Monastary, a similar play enacted itself in Act after Act. Griffonclaw would step into view. Scarlet Crusade warriors and hunters, adepts and mages would charge the intruder, who would flee, leaping over tripwires. His pursuers would follow, triggering boobytraps of frost and fire. Volley fire would rip through their armor, the heavy slugs aimed with unerring accuracy. Griffonclaw would turn like a cornered hart and stand with Valentia as they had so many times in the past, the blue flames of his blade and the glow of her glittering axe edge barely hindered by their armor. Wolf and hound would rip and rend; they were as intelligent as their mistresses, and each knew how to find weak spots in armor, and exploit them. Some would turn to run, only to fall, their hamstrings and then their throats severed by the shadow they'd passed without clue.

Monks and mages studying in the library wing fell. Griffonclaw produced a mageweave bag, and collected a left ear from each fallen Crusader. His friends looked away, but he said only "Proof of restitution for their victims." All of them had collected bounties from the dwarves of Thelsamar for the ears of kobolds in just the same way; they understood in theory, howevermuch they frowned at the practice here.

And not all of them disapproved. Dalrick knew, perhaps better than most, how many people suffered at their hands, and how few survived, however crippled mentally or physically, thereafter. Some of them were friends of his; he thought Griffonclaw to be acting precisely correctly.

They confronted Houndsmaster Loksey in his atrium. Spanner and Nikita ripped his canine guards to shreds, ripping their throats as any other prey. His personal guards fell, and he found himself in single combat with Griffonclaw.

"Ravenlore Ashlock sends her regards" was all he said as he slowly cut Loksey down by inches. His was the last ear to enter that mageweave bag.

They found Arcanist Doan in his sanctum. Keala and Taelea fired as one. One slug caught the mage in the chest, and the other exploded through the center of his face. Mages died as easily as anyone else when properly approached.

Valentia had dueled the Champion of the Scarlet Crusade in the armory, while the rest held the door against reinforcements. Those who thought her gentle and kind would have been shocked to see the almost feral grin on her face as she traded axe-blows with Herod. Technically, he might even have been a better hand with the enormous axe he held, but he was no match for a Paladin of the Light; she called down the Judgement of the Light, and healed each wound he managed to inflict upon her. He had no such ability; slowly the whirlwind he wove with his axe became a mere breeze, and Valentia took his head.

Vishas the Interrogator never saw the sap that rendered him senseless, nor the long dagger that Dalrick thrust up under his jaw and into his brain. "You called yourself a spymaster" Dalrick spat. "You were a butcher, without any skill or subtly. You are a disgrace to your so-called profession".

Amatuers offended Dalrick's professionalism.

One by one, the defenders positioned in the gardens outside the Cathedral itself fell to bullet, knife, axe, blade, and fang. Inside the Cathedral they silently took down priest and paladin of the Crusade, and Valentia took a special grim delight in destroying these people who used the Light to spread darkness, misery and pain. Once more Griffonclaw took ears, this time in a small runecloth pouch. "For Ashlinn" was all he said.

At the central altar, the Scarlet Commander Mograine was holding a service, surrounded by monk, priest, and holy warrior.

"For your attrocities against the folk of the Alliance... for your crimes in burning alive any you consider 'heretics', in torturing countless innocents, in terrorizing the last survivors of the North... in the name of Horuth, I judge you, Scarlet Commander Renault Mograine." Griffonclaw and his comrades stepped forth into the open.

"You seek death?" Mograine answered. "You will find no peace in death..." Exhorting his followers, he bellowed "Conserve your anger! Harness your rage! You will all have outlets for your frustration soon enough." Turning back to the intruders, he shouted "Enough prattling. Let them come! We shall grind their bones to dust!"

And the battle was enjoined. Tealea and Keala chose targets, loosing canine and lupine fury and a fussilage of shot to their chosen foemen. Griffonclaw and Valentia charged forward as one and were soon surrounded, standing back to back Dalrick flitted about the periphery of the conflict; a thrown knife here, some blinding powder there, slowly he dwindled the Crusaders with his tactics, striking from shadow and returning, with lethal result.

Mograine watched them slaughter his minions, and called out "Guards! To me! Crush the intruders! Death to the heretics!"

Instead of the shouts of his guards, he was met with only silence.

Dalrick cleaned his fingernails with one of his knives. "Did I mention we took care of your guards first? No? Must have slipped our minds..."

With a cry of rage, Mograine charged the gnome, who cast a handful of ground ammonia and fadeleaf into his eyes before leaping nimbly aside, spinning, and slashing his blade across Mograine's ribs, the enchantements on it easily cleaving through armor beneath his tabard. Keala's firearm fired, hitting the Scarlet Commander in his right shoulder, spinning him to the side. Taelea's gun discharged, and Mograine stumbled, his left knee a ruin of bone and blood. Valentia and Griffonclaw swung as one, her axe cleaving through his plate pauldron and his sword Mograine's hauberk and into his abdomen. They all stepped back as Mograine crumpled, his life rapidly fleeing.

"No!" screamed a woman's voice. High Inquisitor Whitemane ran forward from behind a tapestry that concealed the entrance to her sanctum santorum, calling out in a strange tongue, calling the Light. A glowing gold nimbus surrounded Mograine, and he rose again to his feet, his wounds healed, called back from the edge of Darkness by her healing. "Destroy them, Mograine! Bring me their heads!" Imbued with newfound energy, Mograine charged forth, and Griffonclaw stepped forward, engaging him in single combat while Valentia and Dalrick moved forward to engage the High Priestess. Shouts from the front of the hall heralded the arrival of more guards, and the huntresses turned, focusing on holding the main entrance. Spanner and Nikita guarded the door with snarling fang and claw, while Taelea and Keala sent shot after shot into those who dared harm their partners.

Whitemane spoke a word of power as Valentia closed upon her, and axe bounced from a glowing aura that sprang into being. "Shadows I conjure for my gain, lash this bitch with waves of pain!" the High Inquisitor intoned, and Valentia fell to her knees, agony racking her muscular, shapely form.

"Tisk Lass... that wasn't very nice!" Dalrick commented snidely as he tossed a small packet at the priestess. It hit the aura and exploded, the atomized mists easily penetrating the aura. Whitemane felt her lungs burning, and used her command of the Light to cleanse herself of his distracting poisons. She focused her power on the deadly gnome, and Dalrick dropped to his knees, feeling her tendrils try and seize his mind. They fought together for control of Dalrick's body, Whitemane striving to control his mind. So focused were they on their silent struggle they didn't see Valentia rise, her body shivering in agony. Her axe rose, and Whitemane fell, almost cut in twain.

Dalrick rose shakily. "My thanks, Valentia," he began, and his voice recovered enough to assume its usual cocky tone. "Of course, I would have won eventually anyways..."

"Of course" Valentia answered, masking her own recovery as the flames receded from her nervious system.

They tuned in time to watch Griffonclaw drop his shield-edge down hard on where Taelea had destroyed his knee-armor with a well-placed shot earlier; Whitemane had repaired the flesh beneath, but the armor had remained shattered and useless. Once more kneecap shattered, and Mograine shouted in rage and pain. They circled, and as they closed Griffonclaw's foot lashed out to the ruined knee again. Mograine fell, and Griffonclaw buried the point of his sword in Mograine's temporarily-undefended face. He placed his boot on Mograine's head, and pulled his sword free, turning to see what other threat he needed to address... to see his comrades around him, watching.

"Not very chivalrous, Barker...." Taelea commented with a smile.

Griffonclaw shrugged. "I'm a bastard by both birth AND inclination"

* * *

High Inquisitor Fairbanks slid forth from his secret chamber, where he had watched the battle, and the fall of Mograine and his successor, that bitch Sally Whitemane.

In life, Fairbanks had been the Highlord Morgaine's trusted advisor and confidante, and had watched when Mograine's son, Regault, had killed him. Fairbanks had told the story to his fellow Scarlet Crusaders and was murdered for it, then hidden in one of the most secret areas of the Monastery by Regault and his minions. Whitemane had raised him with unholy rites, binding him to her service.

One my one, Fairbanks called forth his powers, mending bodies and calling their spirits back. His nemisis Mograine rose again, in a fury. Whitemane was healed, and commanded him back to his cell - she would take care of everything else herself. Herod would need to be healed and ressurected, as would Houndmaster Loksey and Arcanist Doan. All of them had placed their souls safely in stones she kept securely hidden inside her sanctum; in final expedient, she could even place their spirits in the bodies of living devotees, who would beg for the honor.

Reinforcements would be sent from Tyr's Hand. The Scarlet Monastary would soon be stronger than ever.