(40) - Ironforge Discipline

"Griffonclaw FitzSilver, Ye have summoned us here to hear your report and confession. Ye stand accused - by yourself - of having used forbidden Blood magic and necromancy, against the rules of our Order. How do ye plead?" intoned Beldruk Doombrow.

"Guilty I am," confirmed Griffonclaw.

All three judges of his tribunal - Brandur Ironhammer, Beldruk Doombrow, and Valgar Highforge - nodded in unison. As Griffonclaw had been the one to bring the issue before them, they assumed that he would pronounce himself honestly.

"Before we pass sentance, tell us the circumstances of yer transgression, Brother," ordered Valgar gruffly.

Griffonclaw nodded. "As you know, recently a friend of mine - a warlock of Ironforge - lost control of her Voidwalker, and was struggling with it for dominance." All three nodded. "Do ye still refuse to name this Warlock, Griffonclaw?" asked Beldruk.

"I do" confirmed Griffonclaw. "It is not my secret to tell."

All three dwarves nodded once more. This was old ground, and while they had some concern, they respected Griffonclaw's judgement and discretion; as one who had served His Majesty as a Privy Agent, it was virtually part of his job description.

"As you know, I sought ancient knowledge, seeking ways to dislodge the demon without harming the host," Griffonclaw continued. "In the libraries of the Scryers in Shattrath, I found an old book, written in Demonic, describing a ritual of exorcism; it involved using blood sacrifice, to allow the ritualist to cast forth his own spirit into the lands of the dead, and to use his own soul's energy to reinforce the host, thereby allowing the host to draw upon him to banish the demon."

All three dwarves nodded again. Blood sacrifice - even using willing victims - was anathema to the Order, as was using the energies of a displaced soul.

"It so chanced that the Warlock was severely injured near the Altar of Storms; in this weakened state, and almost dead, one of the spirits of that place displaced her soul and severed her silver cord, setting the spirit of the Warlock adrift. It then animated the body, although as was the Warlock, was forced to share possession with the renegade Voidwalker."

Three sets of dwarven brows met in glower. Such a convergence was strange to them, and without precedent.

"When the host body of the Warlock began to act in an uncharacteristic fashion, several of her friends - myself included - lured her to a place within the Plaguelands. We confronted the entity, who was... uncooperative."

Three dwarven voices, despite the seriousness of the circumstances, chuckled. Griffonclaw had always possessed an almost dwarven sense of understatement.

"With the warlock allies of mine not knowing how to proceed, I took it upon myself to perform the twice-forbidden ritual," concluded Griffonclaw.

"And who did ye sacrifice for this? And how did ye release it?" asked Brandur. Demons were in the details, after all.

"I used my own sword; I impaled my hand upon the point, and grounded the hilt to the quillions in the ground," Griffonclaw answered. "The ritual was successful, and my spirit left my body."

"Making ye effectively dead?" asked Brandur.

"Well, essentially... " confessed Griffonclaw.

"What happened then?" asked Valgar.

"Well, I sent myself to the area around the Altar of Storms, and found the Warlock's spirit. She was confused, and didn't know the way back to her body; and so, I detached my own silver cord and fused it to her; I guessed that it would take her to my own form. She had been discorporeal for at least a day or two, and... well... she was beginning to dissolve and diffuse. I judged that her existance was in immediate peril, and that as freshly discorporate, I would be able to last longer."

All three of his judges said nothing. Brandur made a motion for him to continue.

"She returned to my body, and I followed. In my body she managed to destroy the Voidwalker and defeat the other spirit, and when it was forced from her body I took possession of her."

The trilogy of judges looked most upset - and angry.

"We then employed the assistance of a paladin, who assisted us in returning our spirits to their proper bodies," Griffonclaw concluded, glossing over the fact that the paladin had been forced to kill them both again, and then ressurect them on the spot, trusting to the spirit's affinity to their natural bodies to restore them.

And that the paladin had been Bjarki, who was listed as a Fallen Paladin, because of the resurgence of his Dark Iron heritage and his subsequent embrance of the Shadowed Light. As before - some things were not Griffonclaw's secrets to tell.

"Griffonclaw... you bloody great bahookey! Do ye have any idea how abysimally stuuuupid an idea that was?!" cried Brandur. "Ye could have been lost to us, lad... and whether or not ye value yerself highly, WE happen to think you a valuable member!"

"And using blood magic while using your own blood? Are ye absolutely out of you're boulder-stuffed head? What if the ritual had required a continual flow, idiot? Ye'd have bled out and died, and yer spirit forced to wander for an eternity! Throw yerself from a cliff, ya donkey-pizzled trogg! Its quicker!" bellowed Beldruk.

"And you got this from a Scryer library, you say? You're allied with the Aldor! Do you know what would have happened if you'd gotten caught there at all, let alone studying one of them necromancy blood magic tomes? They'd have sent the parts home with a demand that we keep our Paladins out of their business!" decried Valgar.

"Well... " said Griffonclaw softly, "I didn't actually get caught..."

"Och aye," agreed Valgar with a sulk. "There is that..."

The three judges put their heads together, and spoke in low tones; angry tones, but Griffonclaw could not make out the words. However, he could guess... expulsion from the Order at the least, and posssibly... well, imprisonment. Perhaps even death, to stand as an example and a warning.

They finished their conference.

"Griffonclaw FitzSilver, Paladin of Ironforge, we find you guilty as charged" intoned Beldruk in a serious voice.

"We declare sentance immediately. These charges carry the death penalty, and we declare the sentance of death" levied Valgar.

Griffonclaw bowed his head. He know that he had run this risk when he had made the decision to use the ritual. And for Mnemnoth to live free of demons or other baleful influences, he would have made the same choice again.

He hoped they would let him see Kestralil before they carried out sentance.

"We further decree that the sentance shall have been carried out at the earliest possible moment to the offense" decreed Brandur.

All three judged nodded.

"So be it" confirmed Griffonclaw, and bowed, his neck exposed. At least he would be spared the humiliation of a public execution.

He sat there, waiting for the fall.

And waited.

"Um... Lad... Did ye drop something?" asked Brandur in a kindly voice.

Griffonclaw looked up, confused. "I await sentancing."

"What, have you done something else?" asked Beldruk, humor in his voice.

"Get up, lad!" commanded Valgar, pulling Griffonclaw up. "Did you not say that you stabbed yerself for the ritual?"

"Yes...?" answered Griffonclaw.

"And thereafter died?"

"Yes..."

"Well, then the sentence was carried out at the earliest opportunity to the offense then, wasn't it?" Brandur pointed out. "And since yee've already died for the offense, it would be unfair to punish you twice for the same offense, don't ye think?"

Griffonclaw stood there, stunned.

"Oh, and lad..." Beldrik said. "Don't do it again.... it was mickle dangerous enough the first time, and ye don't tweak a dragon's tail twice, if you follow me..."