“Are the preparations in order, Zahn’ki?”

 

“Yes, masta. De bones have been gaddad and de cauldron wit de liquid is nearly hot enough.” The Zandalari troll gracefully bent over the concoction in the giant vat and took a sniff. “Perfect,” he chuckled, “I like dis recipe.”

 

“Good. Prepare to administer the serum within the hour. This next batch of yaungol will serve us well.”

 

The mogu, a tall, well-built creature with flesh made of stone and a face that looked similar to both an orc and a lion, closed the massive tome and placed it upon the ritual table. He had set up a personal workshop in the hills of Mogu’jia with the sole purpose of subjugating the nearby pandaren and forcibly turning those who resisted into his service. Day after day, he toiled over necromantic experiments, seeking to make his creations stronger. Many would call it menial or simply gross work, but he did it with pleasure, both because it was his calling, and because one day, his efforts would surely lead to the restoration of the Mogu Empire.

 

The titanic race could not do it alone, however. They had called upon the Zandalari trolls to honor their ancient pact, and together they would achieve domination over the pandaren who had since driven the mogu into a shadow of their former glory.

 

“Do you know what I like about the yaungol, Zahn’ki?”

 

“What, masta?”

 

The mogu held up a large skull similar to that of a tauren and tapped it twice with a stone finger. “They are cunning,” he declared, “and they make for fine undead. Even under the control and restraint of our magic, they retain enough of their consciousness to attack the pandaren more efficiently than other mindless creatures would.”

 

The Zandalari troll nodded. “Dat be true, masta,” he replied, “but I am getting a bit concerned about dose new travelers from beyond de mists. What if dey are too strong for de yaungol to handle?”

 

“I am not concerned about these newcomers,” scoffed the mogu, “they will not know how to deal with our powers, for they are unfamiliar with the magics of this land.”

 

“I would have hoped so, too, masta,” Zahn’ki walked towards the southern face of the workshop and peered out, “but I tink we be havin’ visitors soon.”

 

* * * * *

 

The vulpera carefully took a peek behind the stone wall and turned pale.

 

“What is it, friend fox,” asked Halvor, “what do you see?”

 

“There are three spirits,” Meechi answered, “They look like they’re in pain; I’ll see if I can go talk to them.” The alchemist calmly walked up to the first spirit, a tauren writhing in agony. “Hello?” she called out.

 

The tauren sensed the presence of the alchemist and spoke, his voice lined with sorrow, “I can no longer hear the Earth Mother…all I see are his claws…” and the spirit flew into the distance.

 

“Who?” Meechi called out, “Whose claws?”

 

The second spirit, a night elf, turned to her. “My body,” she pleaded, tears coming from her ghostly eyes, “where is my body? Elune help me!” Her spirit vanished as well.

 

“The Light!” the third shade cried out, “Where is the Light? I cannot see it!” The ghost of a human struggled against an invisible force. “I need its guidance,” he exclaimed, “he’s pulling me back!”

 

“Who’s pulling you back?” Meechi attempted to ask, but the spirit was gone.

 

“There’s a faint glow coming from behind that wall of stone,” observed Sahtra, “come with me, little Mori. Let’s see what’s going on.”

 

Mori followed the death knight and discovered a yaungol shaman tending to a campfire. He appeared to take no notice of the two who had approached him. The young blood elf looked up at the human, wondering what he had in mind.

 

“Are you going to kill him?”

 

Vel’rosh hid himself behind a smaller wall, eavesdropping on them. He was curious to see what the death knight would say, and suspected foul play was afoot.

 

“As much as I would love to,” Sahtra replied, “he might have some answers about the spirits around here.”

 

Mori nodded in response. “That is a good idea.”

 

The death knight attempted to make eye contact with the yaungol and walked around him, occasionally waving his gloved hand in front of the shaman’s bare face, yet the yaungol gave no reaction.

 

“I don’t think this one is one is going to attack,” Sahtra stared at the shaman, “he has no thoughts or free will of his own, and he hasn’t even acknowledged our presence.” He motioned at the blood elf and started back towards the rest of his traveling companions. “Child, let us return to the others.”

​

* * * * *

​

“Small fox friend, let me pick you up.” Halvor hoisted Meechi onto a crevice in the stone wall. “What can you see?”

 

The alchemist looked around. “There’s a mogu standing at one end of a large circle, and a Zandalari troll at the other end. They both appear to be doing some kind of...necromancy on all the dead bodies lying around.” That would explain how the yaungol kept coming back to Binan Village, she thought to herself. Meechi turned her head at the sound of footsteps and saw the death knight and the young necromancer returning from their investigation.

 

“Hey!” she called out, “You two use death magic! How do we get rid of these bad guys?”

 

Sahtra opened his mouth to respond but Vel’rosh cut him off.

 

“With the Light, of course! Smite them all!”

 

“I heard that, orc,” replied the death knight coolly. He turned to Mori, speaking loudly enough for the paladin to hear, “Child, if the orc dies, I’ll raise him, not you.” Mori laughed as she remembered the offer she had made when she first met Sahtra and nodded happily in agreement.

 

“AGH!” Vel’rosh growled, “You will pay!”

 

Sahtra ignored him and approached the encampment.

 

“Mogu,” he called out. “I thoroughly appreciate the necromantic skills you are using. Quite impressive! It is a shame that you will not fight alongside the child and me. I would hate to kill you and have your skills go to waste.”

 

The ancient creature chuckled in response. “Fool,” he spoke, “did you believe for even a moment that Tsuo-Lin the Eternal Collector would fight alongside you weak mortals? A master of necromantic powers would never lower myself to the level of small-fry such as you.”

 

Sahtra let out a chilling laugh. “You are mistaken,” he yelled at the mogu, “I am the Master here!”

 

“Sahtra’s amazing!” Mori exclaimed to the mogu, “He’ll beat you up!” She let out a cheer of support.

 

“I served under the death god Arthas himself,” continued the death knight, “and have been granted immense power. You would be wise to stand down.”

 

“My masta neva stand down,” spoke the Zandalari troll, standing up to his full height, “let Zahn’ki da Spirit Twista teach you dis lesson.”

 

The mogu chuckled slowly. “You think Arthas to be like a god, foolish human. Do you remember how he was taken down by a handful of mere mortals? How, even though he claimed to have all this power, all it took was one blow from that paladin to break his sword?”

 

Frost formed in the air around him as Sahtra growled. He raised his axe in front of him, ready to strike.

 

“A pathetic Lich King indeed,” the mogu laughed, “He couldn’t even defeat the Light! What a weakling!”

 

“ENOUGH, YOU LOW-LIFE SCUM!” The death knight was furious, and the icicles fell onto the grass with the force of javelins. “LET US END HIS FOUL EXISTENCE!”

 

“Wait, Sahtra!” Meechi yelled, and hurled a growth potion onto his back, “take this!” The glass vial shattered, and orange fluid seeped into Sahtra’s body as he grew in size. The death knight now stood twice as tall as his usual stature and looked down at the mogu with a wide grin.

 

“Wow!” Mori exclaimed as she stared up in awe at Sahtra, who was now a little over three times her size. “You’re a really big death knight now! Cool!”

 

The massive death knight raised his axe. “Onwards!” he commanded, and the party proceeded into battle.

 

“This troll should be an easy target,” Sahtra declared as he took several giant steps towards the Spirit Twister and swung with his enlarged cursed axe.

 

“Not so fast,” his target replied with a smirk as he dodged the blow, “I tink I be likin’ you a little bit smaller.” Zahn’ki the Spirit Twister held out his right palm, sending a ray of energy towards the death knight that encircled him, shrinking him back to his regular size. “Now, you not be tinkin’ you so high and mighty, eh?”

 

Sahtra snarled. He had certainly lost his size advantage, but he had many other weapons, both physical and of wits, in his arsenal.

 

“You’ll regret that!” Mori exclaimed from approximately thirty feet away. Her shrill voice caught the troll’s ear, and he turned toward it just in time to feel the impact of immobilizing magic the young blood elf had sent in his direction. The Spirit Twister attempted to cast a spell back at her, but his movements were severely slowed, and he cried out with confusion and anger as he felt the impact from a primed firebomb from Meechi.

 

Ten yards behind him, near the large mound of corpses and skulls, Halvor and Vel’rosh had engaged the ancient mogu necromancer in combat. The two were proficient in close-range combat with swords, making it difficult for the mogu to spend uninterrupted time casting spells. He struck them away with his large, powerful stone arm, persisting despite the cuts from the orc’s blades and the occasional blow from the vrykul’s shield. Were he made of flesh, the two would easily have overpowered him.

 

“I see you are worthy of a small amount of effort on my behalf,” Tsuo-Lin grunted with a smirk, “but I won’t go too hard on you. You might get hurt.” The ancient necromancer tilted his head back and laughed as he raised his arms, unveiling a large scythe with a fine metal blade and a polished wooden handle. “See if you think you have any chance against me now!”

 

Tsuo-Lin held the scythe out in front of him and swung cleanly, striking Halvor in the legs and Vel'rosh in the chest. Meechi responded quickly to the orc's cry of pain, rushing over with a bottle of ointment. The vulpera applied it to the paladin's wounds and moved on to the warrior. Her light frame and nimble movement had greatly enhanced her utility as a mobile healer who could skip around obstacles, both living and inanimate.

 

“I will smite you, necromantic nuisance!” Vel’rosh enchanted his greatsword with holy energy as he raised it and brought it down onto the mogu’s thigh. The blow left a visible but shallow mark, and Tsuo-Lin laughed as he held up his free hand and sent a volley of shadow bolts against the paladin. The latter had no choice but to create a quick shield that absorbed some of the impact, but otherwise stepped back to recuperate and heal himself.

 

On the other side of the encampment, Zahn’ki the Spirit Twister could feel his fingers moving freely again. With a sudden swing of his arm, the troll struck at Sahtra with sharp claws, scratching his dark armor and knocking him back several feet. The former took advantage of his opponent’s temporary inactivity to hurl a ball of lava at the death knight, who dropped to his knees at the impact.

 

“Here,” Meechi came running to Sahtra’s side, “this should help.” She broke a potion onto his back that significantly reduced the impact of the heat from the burst of lava and returned to tending to the others near the mogu.

 

“How are you holding up?” the vulpera called out to the vrykul. Halvor had entered a defensive stance, strengthening the aura around him as he braced for the mogu’s next attack. He staggered backwards as the enemy sent a large ball of blight at the vrykul that subsequently spread to the orc.

 

“Hard to say, small fox,” he replied, catching his breath, “it is difficult to damage large stone creature with our swords. But we still try.”

 

Meechi nodded, once again administering potions to both the warrior and the paladin. This battle had been highly taxing on her resources; she was beginning to run out of filled vials, and it would take several hours to create more potent concoctions if they were to continue battling for much longer.

 

Splitting the party’s resources was not a very efficient means of battle either, Sahtra knew this. He glanced over at the group fighting the mogu as he held his gloved hand over his cursed axe, enchanting it. Fight fire with fire, as they said, or in the current situation, shadow with shadow. The Spirit Twister was a formidable foe with great magical prowess, but his flesh lacked the tenacity his master’s stone body possessed. The troll howled in defeat as the death knight’s axe came down upon him, striking him three powerful times, and his corpse slumped to the ground, soaking in his own blood.

 

“Little Zahn’ki,” Tsuo-Lin called out to the troll’s dead body, “you will need more practice when you return. I am disappointed you could not finish them off.” The mogu shook his stone head and placed his scythe down on the ground to his right. “I am afraid I will have to make up for his lack of strength,” the ancient necromancer sighed, “a shame that I am forced to use my full power against such unworthy opponents.”

 

Tsuo-Lin, the Eternal Collector, watched as the death knight began to run up to the mound of corpses upon which the former stood, but he was too late. The mogu let out a chilling laugh and cried out, “Taste the swarm of the undead!” He placed his hands forward, creating a cup. From it burst forth hundreds of reanimated beetles, centipedes, bats and poisonous spiders that launched themselves onto the orc and the vrykul. The knight and the warrior fell to their knees as the vermin gnawed at them and released multiple toxins into their blood.

​

"Light help m—"

​

The necromancer pulled his hands apart, and the swarm disappeared, leaving behind the unconscious bodies of Vel'rosh and Halvor in its stead.

 

And here I thought I was going to raise the paladin, Sahtra thought to himself as he furrowed his brows at the body of the orc, this enemy is far more dangerous than I had anticipated.

 

Mori stood still, petrified by the destructive spell her fellow necromancer had just unleashed onto her allies. Was this the kind of power she, too, would possess one day?

 

“Th-Th-They,” the young blood elf stammered, “are they d-d-dead?”

 

Meechi ran over to the orc and vrykul and broke vials of potions onto their bodies. She studied them carefully. “They are alive,” she sighed with relief, “but they will be out for several minutes.” With a grunt, she dragged the two unconscious travelers to a safer spot. Mori was still frozen in place, staring at the two bodies that lay on the ground.

 

“Child! Raise the troll and use it against the mogu! And stand behind it so you won’t get hurt!”

 

The young blood elf broke free from her trance and turned in the direction of the death knight. Mori nodded. “Good idea,” she responded, “I’ll get him before the bad guy does!” The warlock placed her hand over the mutilated corpse of the Zandalari troll and called out, “Animate!” The troll’s eyes began to glow a golden yellow color as his limbs straightened back into position and he stood back up, mindlessly staring at his new master. Perfect! Mori thought to herself and looked back at Sahtra, who was trying to restrain the mogu with icy chains, but to little avail. The mogu struck at him, and the death knight was flung backwards, slamming into the rock wall behind him. His horned helm flew off his head, and Mori could see several bruises on the death knight's head and neck.

 

One leg at a time, Sahtra slowly stood back up. He looked over his own armor, assessing its condition and how much more it would be able to handle. His own stamina was also beginning to falter, but he had a mission. It’ll be risky, he thought to himself, but I need to make sure she stays alive.

 

“Mori! Listen to me!” The death knight called out, “I am going to attempt something.” He placed his helm back on his head and strode heavily towards the mogu and took a defensive stance in front of the giant necromancer. “Remember, regardless of what happens to me, you must not fail in your mission to become a lich!”

 

The young blood elf was in shock. “Wait!” she yelled back at him, “What do you mean? Why are you telling me this now?”

 

“Don’t think,” Sahtra commanded, “just act.”

 

Mori stared at the death knight, fear once again taking a hold of her. Is…is he planning on…no…no he can’t be…HE CAN’T BE!

 

“NO, SAHTRA!” Mori screamed. “I WON’T LET YOU DIE!”

 

The young necromancer held her hands together and raised them in front of her chest. A large green sphere of blight formed as she spread her hands back apart and thrust them in the direction of the mogu. The elderly necromancer recoiled from the attack and prepared to embrace himself for the next blow.

 

“Lava burst,” Mori ordered the undead Zandalari troll, “now!” She pointed at the mogu, and the Spirit Twister obeyed. The mogu stumbled as the second large burst of magic struck him, and Sahtra took advantage of the situation to taunt him.

 

“You weak bastard!” The death knight yelled at the mogu. “If anyone is to kill these people, it will be me! Not some good-for-nothing necromancer!”

 

The mogu roared in fury and began attacking the death knight, who burst into laughter as the creature clawed at him. Perfect, perfect! he thought to himself, the mogu is taking the bait beautifully. Meechi threw primed fire bombs as Mori and her undead summon prepared their next spells. The necromancer drew from her life essence to strengthen her next burst of blight, and hurled it again at the mogu, followed by the spirit twister’s lava burst.

 

Sahtra watched intently as the two magical blows further weakened the necromancer and smiled to himself with satisfaction.

 

“Keep up the effort,” the death knight yelled at Mori, “my plan is working in our favor!”

 

The young blood elf smiled at the encouragement and began preparing her next spell. “I will do my best!” She yelled out in return. I have to do my best, she declared to herself, anything less, and Sahtra dies. She shivered at the thought.

 

Mori watched as Sahtra took more blows from the mogu but kept laughing maniacally as he taunted the enemy. The ancient necromancer held his hands out in front of him and began draining the life essence from the death knight. The undead human’s pale skin broke, and viscous, nearly frozen blood seeped out from the cracks in his armor.

 

“You think me defeated, necromancer," yelled the death knight with raspy tones, "but now, you will taste fear!” Sahtra pulled out a parchment scroll from his belt and threw it at the mogu, petrifying him instantly. The ancient necromancer’s face was frozen in horror, and he was rendered helpless.

 

“Take this!” Mori exclaimed as she thrust one last spell of blight at the mogu. At its impact, the petrified necromancer burst into pieces, and his soul began to float upwards.

 

“You fools only delay me,” his shade spoke with an ominous tone, “Tsuo-Lin the Eternal Collector shall return stronger, and you will all be crushed underneath my infinite army’s feet!” The shade of the mogu disappeared with a deep laugh.

 

Sahtra turned to his party, grinning widely as he took off his helm. “Nobody will kill you under my watch,” he spoke proudly, dark red slush oozing down the wounds on his face, “If you die, it will only be by my hands!” The death knight then staggered forward and collapsed onto the blood-stained grass.