[Private RP] The Cold North

[Synaxis]

Dalaran was a beautiful city at all times of the year, at all times of the day, but at the moment ancient Jarigos was not admiring its beauty.

He'd just come from the frozen hills of Coldarra as quickly as he could, seeking the help of the Kirin Tor under his more popular guise. An artifact of great magical and historical value was missing, he was told, stolen in the night by what seemed a band of bold no-gooders. The situation was a delicate one and while it needed to be addressed immediately, Jarigos was quite well aware that it was not a matter for Azeroth's biggest and most powerful armies. This was a matter that required subtlety.. And so he planned to appeal to the Kirin Tor, to ask for their assistance in righting the unfortunate wrong that had occurred.

Dalaran was fairly empty at this hour of the evening. The travelers were few these days due to its remote location and the wars being waged elsewhere, which was both a blessing and a curse to the disguised dragon. Hurrying along the winding streets in a long set of flowing eggshell blue robes trimmed in dark navy, he looked relatively inconspicuous due to nature of his appearance. An apparently middle-aged high elf with silver hair and ice blue eyes, Jarigos in the form of Jaradil Silverwing looked the part he played - kind, patient teacher. Even under stress he managed to look like just part of the scenery.

But he was distracted. In his effort to find somebody of importance in the streets, peeking in windows to shops or inns, he could easily miss another person that suddenly came within his path without walking into his line of sight. It would be only too easy for him to literally collide with such a person, at which point he would become slightly flustered and stress would show itself in the lines of his moderately aged face.


(For Morzath.)

[The Madgod]

Another figure walked the streets of Dalaran, one most in the city would know. Standing fairly tall with hair as white as fresh snow, eyes of violet, and beautiful, masterfully crafted robes signifying his status as a member of the Kirin Tor, Morzath pondered the letters he had received earlier in the day from one of Dalaran's spies in the Plaguelands, one Jarom Brookburough. From the last message he sent to Dalaran, he had found out something big, something that could harm the citizens of Dalaran, quite possibly disrupt the fragile healing process of the Plaguelands, and cause destruction and death the world over.

Distraced, the archmage walked aimlessly. So distracted was he that Morzath walked into an elf with icy blue eyes, an elf who also seemed distracted; an elf who seemed familiar. Stumbling backwards, Morzath stopped thinking about the potential disaster in Northrend and northern Lordaeron, and was brought back to the magically-illuminated nighttime streets of Dalaran. "Ah, so sorry about that, I wasn't..." appoliziged Morzath, looking at the poor man he stumbled into. "Jaradil? What are you doing out at this hour?"

[Synaxis]

"Argh - ah, no, no, my fault, sorry, I had my head elsewhere. Are you alright?"

Jarigos had nearly stumbled over his robes but caught himself with as much grace as he could, given the unfortunate neurological side-effects of his chronic illnesses. Propping himself against the nearest wall of a building to help himself find his balance again, he snapped sharply out of his distracted thinking and addressed the poor man he'd run into. He noticed at once that it was Morzath, an apparently mortal mage who also often taught here in Dalaran. He remembered one of their discussions. It had been a most riveting conversation about the properties of magical fire in underwater environments.. This Morzath was quite a clever guy. An idea struck him. Perhaps Morzath would be a good candidate for a person to assist him with the reclaiming of the blue dragonflight's missing artifact.

"I, uh, I was just looking for someone," he started, straightening and regaining his composure. He brushed off his sleeves and glanced toward the Violet Citadel briefly before looking back to the mortal before him. "Nobody in particular. There is a rather delicate matter I have been made aware of that I would like to address.. I don't think I'd be able to do so on my own, of course, so I was looking for a trustworthy mage to assist me."

He folded his hands together in a stressed, borderline nervous way.

"Of course, this is not the best hour to be on this kind of a search, but I do what I must.."

[The Madgod]

Morzath thought back to his own problem. Perhaps this elf could help him out with it... though of course he would do the same for him. Conjuring a cup of warm honeymint tea, he handed it to the flustered elf, saying "Take a drink, friend, and tell me what you need. I may be able to help."

[Synaxis]

Jarigos took the tea as it was offered, then looked into the cup and sighed. "Better find somewhere to sit first," he said, holding the cup in one hand and looking for a shop or something that was open. As it so happened, one of Dalaran's numerous inns were still accepting patronage in their bar and restaraunt area at this hour, so the disguised dragon gestured subtly to the inn and headed over there. Assuming Morzath came with (because if he doesn't that's going to be a really uncomfortable conversation in the middle of the street), Jarigos would silently wave down the woman inside looking to seat them. He picked a table and sat down with the cup of tea, letting out another large sigh. Again assuming Morzath had come with him, he would then began to speak.

"The blue dragonflight has always been known for taking ancient artifacts and imbuing them with magical properties," he started, making sure to sound like he heard this all secondhand, "They've always jealously guarded these objects. Well, one of these artifacts of incredible magical and historical importance is now missing. Stolen, apparently. It is safe to assume that the group that stole this artifact did not do so with good intentions. I do not know what their plans are and only have a vague idea who they are, but this is a serious problem. Because the artifact is ancient and fragile and extremely magical, I cannot trust someone without knowledge in the field to help with its recovery.."

[The Madgod]

Morzath followed his colleague into the inn and sat opposite of the mage. Listening to his tale, the archmage frowned. This sounded eerily familiar. A couple questions bubbled up inside his head; how did he get this information, and where is the group? The first he knew, for Jaradil had once mentioned that he had some contacts within the Blue Flight, a rare thing, but based on the mage's skills, something that wasn't impossible. The second... he hoped that it wasn't Icecrown. Conjuring his own cup of tea, Morzath took a sip, seemingly mulling over what he had heard, and asked, "Any clues as to this group's whereabouts?"

[Synaxis]

Jarigos took a sip of the tea and leaned back in his chair, looking stressed. The faint age lines in his face seemed much more visible now than they had been on earlier occasions when the two met. On earlier occasions, it had been in happier circumstances. "Not totally sure," he said, lifting one hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I'm told the trail the thieves left was very minimal but suggested they may have gone to Icecrown. It was an incomplete trail; for all anyone knows they could've caught a boat and sailed to the other end of the world, but I have doubts about that. Icecrown seems like a good place to hide something you have no business of possessing."

He took another sip of the tea and stared into it thoughtfully. He, of course, knew the kind of things that lurked in Icecrown. The activity had died down a great deal in recent times but it was not completely empty or purified, there could certainly still be a group there that could make use of an incredibly magical artifact. Though Jarigos didn't know the exact intentions the group could have, he could think of many options, none of which were pleasant. If they figured out how to harness the magic imbued into the artifact, there would be trouble. That much was clear.

"It seems like a good place to start," he said finally, nonchalantly conjuring a small platter of biscuits and helping himself to one.

[The Madgod]

Morzath was quiet for a time, sipping his tea and eating a biscuit in thought, brow furrowed. This was not good. If what Jaradil was saying was accurate, things were NOT in their favor. It appears," the archmage finally said, slowly, "That we are in need of eachother's help."

Before the other mage could respond, Morzath continued, saying, "One of my contacts has said that the remnants of a particular sect of the Cult of the Damned have taken a magical artifact deep into the depths of one of the many Scourge citadels within Icecrown. We also know that they have sent agents across Azeroth, and they have only just now been returning. My contact was not able to find out what exactly the cultists had been sent out to retrieve." That last bit was an outright lie. Morzath's contact knew, and so did the archmage himself. The Cult of the Damned were stealing dragon eggs, to re-attempt the creation of the Plagued Dragonflight, but Jaradil did not need to know that just yet. "What we do know is that the cultists are trying to do something to get at a V.I.P. target somewhere in Northrend."

[Synaxis]

"I am familiar with the Cult of the Damned," Jarigos said slowly, taking a bite of his biscuit and apparently on a steady train of thought. "Their intentions have never been good in the past. They would be a good candidate, and it would explain the apparent trail to Icecrown since they are primarily based there."

Dipping his biscuit in his tea, the disguised dragon thought some more. Cult of the Damned? Yeah, they were reckless, alright. Though he had mainly concerned himself with matters involving his father and his kin in the past couple years, the activity of that particular group did not completely go unnoticed by him. They practiced all manners of dark, unnatural magic. An ancient, powerful draconic artifact would be something he could see them enjoying greatly as a means to accomplish their twisted goals. With another sip of tea, he thought some more. Theoretically, it would be only too easy to walk in there where they were and decimate them as a dragon. Without the artifact, their magic was highly incomparable to his. However, if they were truly in possession of what he knew to be the Spellweaver's Sphere, then it would not be that simple. Of course..

"I think you are right," he said after a long think, "Neither of us alone would be able to interfere with whatever nefarious plans they may be attempting to execute, but together there may be some hope. I hope you haven't got any plans for the immediate future."

[The Madgod]

Morzath shook his head. "No plans, save what we are about to do." Said the mage, finishing his tea and standing up. "Let's go."

The pair traveled over to Krasus' landing, a rather lone area, where Morzath stood concetrating for a moment. Soon though, the thud of beating wings could be heard and a nether drake flew out of the night sky to both of them. Smiling at her, the archmage jumped onto her back, patting the side of her neck. "Jaradil, I would like you to meet Alythaku, an old friend of mine ever since I freed her from the Fel Dragonmaw back in Outland. If you do not have a mount, I have no doubt she wouldn't mind carrying you as well. She'll be accompanying us on this quest, I have no doubt you will appreciate her ability."

The netherdrake bobbed her head in a bow. In a kind, genuine tone, Alythaku said, "Morzath speaks the truth. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jaradil."

[Synaxis]

The appearance of the netherdrake was a surprisingly unwelcome sight to Jarigos. The invitation to actually ride the drake was even worse - he could not bring himself to accept the offer just based on the fact that he, too, was a dragon. Though he had developed many habits in his extensive time among the mortals, he never truly forgot what he was. He shook his head in response and let out a sharp whistle, and on cue, a hippogryph gelding untied himself from a hitching post nearby and rushed to the side of its apparent rider, Jari. Leading the hippogryph to a ledge that would act as a mounting block for him, he climbed up and seated himself just behind the beast's withers, with his legs comfortably tucked under the currently folded wings. There was no saddle, only a fleece bareback pad with a pair of stirrups, which he slipped his feet into.

"I am set," he said, shifting his gaze between Morzath and the netherdrake. She made him slightly uncomfortable. His guise very, very rarely ever fooled other dragons.. their species was just inclined to recognize each other. He hoped that Alythaku was an exception to this. He was not ready for his cover to be blown just yet. "He is rented, of course, but he will get me there."

With a little maneuvering and a couple kicks with his heels, Jarigos convinced the hippogryph to leap off the ground and take to the skies. He clutched a heavy leather strap around the beast's neck just for that purpose, just to keep himself in place for the sudden ascension. Once level, he let go of the leather collar and set his mount to fly in a circle above the netherdrake and Morzath. Once they had joined him in the skies, he set off for Icecrown.

[The Madgod]

Upon glancing at the elf, Alythaku instantly recognized Jaradil as a dragon. Though many questions bubbled forth, the drake did not choose to ask them, nor reveal his identity to Morzath. She did not know why he did not choose to reveal his true form, but she was not one to pry, and was not going to blab. Using her powerful hind legs, Alythaku soared into the air, following the hyppogryph at a leisurely pace, though still one able to easily keep up with the bird-like creature.

The pair had been flying for a couple hours and were now deep in the infamous glacier. The numerous spires and battlements of the Scourge's citadels dotted the land, the sheer scope of the scene testament to the terrible hold the undead had held over Northrend. No longer, though. The citadels were devoid of life or unlife. Scanning the scene from his seat on Alythaku's back, Morzath looked around, searching for their destination. His contact had said that it was a small citadel, perched near the top of a mountain. The archmage had been looking for such a citadel for an hour now, with no success. Eventually however, he saw it. It was exactly as his contact had described it.

And plus, there were signs of life.

Morzath sent a quick mental message to Alythaku and made the pair of them invisible. They were in the lead, so Morzath would have to assume Jaradil would follow suit. Alythaku soared closer to the mountain, close enough to make out the two fires and the several cultists huddled over them.

[Synaxis]

Jarigos was quick to follow Morzath's lead. When he and Alythaku turned invisible, he also cast a quick spell that made himself and his mount invisible as well. Like this, Jari was able to direct his mount into a shallow descent, flying fairly close to the saronite structure built near the peak of one of the mountains along the edge of the glacier. There was definitely activity going on around it. The two fires were easily seen as were the cultists huddled around them, but higher up in the building he could see them walking along a balcony, watching the skies, keeping guard over their grounds.. Could this really be where it was being kept? Inside, perhaps? Underneath? Stashed away in some hidden chamber far from the prying eyes of any travelers lost enough to wind up here?

It seemed like a good place to him.

The recovery could not be as simple as decimating all of the cultists outside and storming the place. Jarigos knew that while they were bolstered by the power of the ancient Sphere, they would be tougher opponents than usual. Along the balcony where the guards were pacing, he could make out four doors, evenly spaced and at each point of the compass. These were not as heavily guarded and quite a bit more inconspicuous. With a quiet, thoughtful 'hmm,' he flew his mount to a snowy peak nearby and landed upon it, quite certain that this was the sort of place that would not earn him the interest of the cultists. Allowing the invisibility to fall off in the hopes of coaxing Morzath over, he started thinking. There was no way to get in there easily..

[The Madgod]

Morzath surveyed the area. The outer portion of the citadel was actually fairly small, with only the balcony, a couple spikes for decoration, and the four doors leading into the mountainside. Of course, the Archmage knew that it was like a glacier on the sea; the portion he saw was but a fraction of the size of the building. He noticed Jaradil had landed ontop of the peak and had dispelled his invisibility. Joining him and doing the same, Morzath asked, "So, have any ideas?"

[Synaxis]

"It would be impossible to go in through the front doors on the bottom with so many of them there," he said at once, still looking toward the structure. "They are too many and with the artifact, likely too powerful. It would not be unreasonable to assume they have some measure of protection against cloaking or magical disguise, like invisibility.. I think our best bet would be one of those upper doors." He gestured toward that balcony with the four doors. There were not many guards patrolling that balcony at all. They were more or less just lookouts, not actual guards.. Jarigos supposed they probably were not as well-trained in their crafts as the cultists on the ground. "I don't know that we'll be able to just sneak past those guys up top.. We may need to kill one or two of them, transfigure their bodies into something inconspicuous, possibly take their clothes if they aren't too damaged.. While I certainly would not like to have to pretend to be one of them, it may be a decent backup plan in case going totally unseen does not work out."

[The Madgod]

The Archmage pondered his companion's words. They were the same he had thought. Slowly, he said, "I would say that disguising ourselves would be the best idea... Alythaku?"

The nether drake spoke with a voice filled with loathing. "Those cultists remind me too much of the Dragonmaw from Shadowmoon... but... I cannot see another alternative." She then transformed, her draconian features slowly disseapearing in lieu of more humanoid ones, her form shrinking, into a young, pale elvish woman, wearing the black and navy and purple robes of the Cult of the Damned. Ritualistic tatoos adorned her face, which had a very haunting look to it, with sunken eyes and bone-white hair draping her face. If they hadn't seen her transform, they would never believe that she was not a cultist.

Morzath also made some minor changes to his appearance, mainly making his pale skin a touch more grey, for though he was pale, it seemed to be a paleness that bespoke purity, not the unhealthiness of the cultists, and became more gaunt, similar to how Alythaku now appeared. His hair, pure white, he left as is. He and Alythaku went down the mountainside, just to a point where they could effectively see the balcony and jump onto it, while still maintaining cover. Looking over to Jaradil, Morzath said, "When you're ready, Jaradil, we'll strike."

[Synaxis]

Jarigos did not need to alter his appearance. Though he had the innate ability to do so at whim, he found that his humanoid form often did look a touch on the pale, gaunt, even sickly side - being a sickly guy, it made perfect sense. This in mind, he went as he was. Dismounting the hippogryph and following closely along behind Alythaky and Morzath, he had a bit of a tougher time navigating the mountainside than them due to his physical flaws, but he did get down there a little behind them without injury. Standing beside them and huffing and puffing for a moment, he took a moment to catch his breath while observing the cultists below. As far as Jari could tell, the lookouts did indeed seem fairly weak, bored, and distracted..

"No time like the present," he said with a deep, steadying inhale. Hopping down onto the balcony, he gave a shifty glance to both sides and addressed a young adult man, human for sure, who did not notice the sudden appearance of the disguised dragon. With a grimace, he started to silently cat a spell that, when released, hit the young man silently and caused him to immediately crumple to the ground. He didn't even know what hit him. Jarigos walked over to the prone body of the man who, judging by the steady steam still coming from his mouth and nose, was merely unconscious. Laying a hand on the man's chest, Jarigos' lips moved in silent spell. The man's heart began to freeze from the inside, the beat slowing and slowing and slowing until it finally stopped, leaving no mark on the man's body but efficiently killing him.

A moment later the man was what appeared to be a young dragon's jawbone. Picking up this strange remain, Jari pitched it toward the mountains as hard as he possibly could, throwing the transformed body well away. He picked up the robes that were left behind and offered them to Morzath. "You take these," he muttered, getting ready to move on to the next one.

[The Madgod]

The elf took the garments and tucked them into his belt. Nodding his thanks, Morzath continued over to the next two cultists, deep in conversation, looking out towards the rest of Icecrown, away from the walls of the citadel. They were standing right next to eachother, holding hands. Perhaps they were lovers, enjoying each other's twisted company. Sneaking up behind them, Morzath quickly slapped the pair on their ears, issuing forth a flash of magic from his palms that melted the soft squishy organs inside of their skulls. Sometimes he hated to do this sort of thing, but it was the Scourge, and Morzath felt no regret in killing these two.

Alythaku was just as vicious, having circled around to the cultist at the other end of the balcony. Creeping up behind him, she created a dagger of obsidian-sharp ice and slit his throat.

Neither Morzath nor Alythaku did anything to their kills, preferring to incinerate them and let their ashes blow in the wind once all of the cultists outside were dead.

[Synaxis]

Jarigos had transformed his kill for the sake of cleanliness; it was easier to simply change the shape of the body and discard it as another object than it was to undress and burn the body.. for he needed robes, too; his blue ones would be entirely too conspicuous among the sea of black. Allowing himself to pilfer the robes from the male lover Morzath had killed before the man was lit ablaze, he quickly scampered toward the side of the structure so that any of the cultists below could not see him if they looked up. He quickly threw on the cultist's robes and lit his old ones on superhot fire so that they were reduced to ash and blew away in the wind as the bodies had. Now feeling inconspicuous, he gestured to Alythaku and Morzath and leaned against the door closest to them.

There was no noise from the other side, so he made to open the door.

To his great surprise, it wasn't even locked. Giving a significant glance to the other two, he cautiously peeked inside and found a great, winding spiral staircase leading to the ground level and below. The structure was definitely built into the depths of the mountain. It was hard to tell the exact size from here. "We will need to go down," he murmured, knowing this only out of instinct. Distantly, he could feel the pulse of the Sphere.. being a blue dragon, he was naturally attuned to these subtle magical currents..

[The Madgod]

Morzath put on his robes, strangely warm after having been worn by the cultist. One would think that with the amount of necromantic magic and how pale the cultists were, the robes would be cold to the touch. Like Jaradil and Alythaku, Morzath looked his part perfectly. Both the Archmage and his dragon companion burned the bodies after Jaradil had retrieved his robes, and let the wind scatter the ashes. Hopefully, thought the elf, in true death these cultists could be a benefit to nature. Morzath chuckled. He sounded like a red dragon. The mage nodded at his companion, and the three of them disappeared into the depths of the Cult's citadel.

They traveled for a couple minutes down a winding stair, till at last they came to a hallway decorated and lit with braizers holding an icy blue flame. Despite appearances, the flames gave off heat, bringing the temperature of the hallway to a comfortable level. The three traveled down the hallway, eventually leading into a great library of scrolls, tomes, and what looked like jars of specimens from different types of creatures. Some even contained what looked like the scales and wing membranes of dragons, held in stasis in a clear, thick fluid. Many cultists walked to and fro, taking down books to bring to their masters or to peruse the scrolls for a particular spell or alchemical finding they wished to consult for one of their experiments or to even take specimens from their shelves for research. Morzath, playing his role well, did not show his disgust at the scene, his face saying he was simply looking on a scene he had witnessed many times prior. Alythaku was much the same, not willing to betray her emotions (particularly concerning some of the alchemical specimens) and therefore betraying Morzath's trust in her.