Chapter 184

Flitting between various diseased trees and shadows, Jan'alai, Syra, and Tess closed in on their target. 

It was the medium sized, walled city of Corrin's Crossing. 

Situated in the south-central location of the Eastwald, it served as a hub for travel, as three major roads passed through. 

To move from Stratholme in the north, to reach the Western Plaguelands, one must take a circuitous route heading south-east before traveling west, due to a large mountain range cutting the Eastwald in half. 

Thus, Corin's Passing had had a unit dispatched to take this point of interest. 

However, they had met with some difficulty, so Lor'Themar sent the nearest reinforcements. 

As Syra & company were in the area, they had come to support the beleaguered troops. 

A light, putrid slime-green rain began to drizzle down as the ladies approached. 

Hillsides, and once verdant farmland were overgrown with orange-brown, tumorous plants. Trees weeped black, cancerous sap, and countless animals howled constantly, as their hunger could not be contained.  

The air was putrid, like a public restroom that hadn't been cleaned for weeks. Puddles of corrosive water ate away at man made constructs, and the buildings of Corin's crossing were decaying like a tooth gone bad.

Milling mindlessly in front of the wide open gates was a contingent of a few hundred Ghouls and other lesser zombies. 

Emerging from the forest, the trio of women stopped for a moment, and assessed the situation. 

Cloaked and covered in darkness, Tess followed behind Syra, her mentor, and the one she had come to view as an older sister in silence. 

She had grown up in the shadows, and quiet had become her ally. Loud noises upset daddy, and Tess discovered that they made her skittish. 

It was for those reasons that she had grown to dislike the overly loud, and oafish Troll her teacher called friend. 

‘Why should big sis Syra spend an ounce of her attention on her, when we could have fun assassinating our way through this keep, and kill the Undead in all sorts of creative ways?’

Tess sulked to herself as she glared at Jan'alai from the side with some hostility. 

Jan'alai leered back, and ran her tongue across the bumps and thorns on her club. 

Barely withholding a scowl, Tess tried to be the bigger person here, and ignored her. 

Flipping a dagger out from her side, Tess started to juggle it, drop it into her shadow, then pull it out of thin air repeatedly. 

Ever since she had embraced her natural abilities, she had learned to hone it with everyday actions. 

Juggling daggers came naturally to her, and was something she had done when locked in her bedroom. Tess had seen her older brother, Liam, become entranced with the skill once upon a time when they had snuck out to go to a fair. 

Ever since that day, Tess had practiced relentlessly while she was locked up in her bedroom. 

Now such an action worked to calm her down, and was a focus for her training. 

Breathing deeply, Tess awaited Syra's decision, and ignored the boisterous one. 

The Forest Trolls own inner monologue somewhat mirrored Tess’. 

Begrudgingly wearing a cloak to protect her absolutely beautiful skin from the rain, Jan'alai internally grumbled that she couldn't go out yelling and smashing things to bits, or that she couldn't show off her muscles in the glistening rain. 

Grumbling to herself, Jan'alai had overheard the little mouse complain to Syra about ‘making too much noise’ and ‘being at risk of an ambush.’ 

Phooey! 

It was all bat guano. 

A bunch of Kobold shit! 

What threat were numbers when they had her club, and Syra's sword?! 

The mouse was just a coward, always hiding and slinking in the shadows, never once properly facing her quarry head on! 

Her battle sworn sister however, was like a hunter. Unafraid of the unknown, Syra could fight in the light and the dark. She was a perfect warrior in every way. 

“Tch.” Jan'alai loudly tsked to herself as she began to grow impatient from all the waiting. 

“Hrah?” A curious Ghoul some distance away quirked its head, as if it heard something. 

“Please keep quiet,  you can follow simple directions, can't you?” Tess rolled her eyes, and said in a voice so quiet, Jan'alai could barely hear it. 

“It's just some trash Ghouls.” Jan'alai replied flatly, and lumbered a step closer to Tess. 

Lifting her massive club onto her shoulder, Jan'alai looked down at the shorter Human, and gave her a grin full of wild sharp teeth and tusks. 

“You're not scared, are ya?” Jan'alai taunted. 

“So this is what passes for a civilized Troll.” Tess smiled sweetly, refusing to take the bait. 

“So the mouse has a bite, hah?” Jan'alai grinned, and lowered herself to stare Tess in the eye. 

“Just be quiet, and wait for Syra to come to a decision, I'm sure whatever she's planning right now is very important.” Tess said as she teleported away from Jan'alai, and emerged next to Syra's side. 

“Tch.” Jan'alai spat to the ground, and moved to stand close by Syra's side as well. 

As for Syra? Well, she didn't register them or the Undead whatsoever. 

Holding onto her scrying orb, she was alternating between happy and antagonistic. 

As such, her face achieved equilibrium, and remained flat. 

She was happy because Varrus's message to her read: [The lunch you prepared was delicious! Very tasty, but no mustard with tomatoes in the future! Maybe pickles and mustard next time? Aaanyway, we rescued a small community hiding in the sewers of a town today~ 

Miss you, and can't wait to hold you again. Love, Varrus.] 

Syra bit the tip of her thumbnail as she saw a picture of a happy Varrus eating her sandwich. She also saw a view of those villagers in the background of one image…a few of the women were looking at him in a way that made Syra clutch onto the handle of her blade. 

Slowly exhaling, Syra released her grip on her sword. 

Varrus was better than that. 

None of those women were threats. 

But if she saw more evidence of them interacting… 

Frowning to herself, Syra made a few notes, and sent out a message to her faithful, her Illidari. 

[If any of these individuals are discovered within the manor of House Vandercross, remove them immediately.] 

Finished with that task, Syra once more gazed at the picture of Varrus longingly. 

In this still shot, he had spilled a bit of his mustard, and his face was dirty. 

‘Ah, Varrus, where would you be without me to take care of you, and clean you up?’ Syra lovingly ran her hand on the glass of the scrying orb, and giggled at Varrus's childish, oafish nature. 

However, her expression soured as she was indeed apart from him once again. 

Withholding a sigh-she rarely ever sighed thanks to her mother's education-Syra felt her ire towards the Sky Marshal grow. 

Every day he and his brother drew breath, was a stain on her pride. 

Syra was certain that the scoundrel, Dakar, had ogled her during the Scourging of Silvermoon, and his later assassination attempt had put him on her list. 

It was only due to her care and consideration of Varrus's needs that she had temporarily staid her blade. 

Firming her lips, Syra felt regret that she had let Varrus sweet talk her into separating again so soon. 

Admittedly, she did enjoy the company of Tess and Jan'alai, but any more than a few hours at a time, and their ‘girl time’ became taxing. 

Every additional second beyond 5 hours away from Varrus was a second too long. 

Additionally, Syra was feeling downcast. 

She didn't know mustard and tomato didn't go well together. 

Preparing food was new to her, as she typically ate a conjured nutrient bar high in restorative properties for most of her life. Ever since she was a child, her diet, sleeping patterns, and schedule had been strictly curtailed by her mother. 

It was only recently-with the help of Varrus-that she had begun to break out of her mold. To experience new flavors, sights, and experiences beyond the norm. 

With these emotions came a yearning. To once again watch Varrus perform on a stage. To share his performative genius with the world, then hold him tight in her embrace, for all the reporters and scrying orbs to see. To let them know that Varrus had one and only one lover! That there would be no further attempts at breaking the sanctity of their marriages that- (inner monologue x10 paragraphs) 

[Have you…rein fo…unit] A broken message arrived from Lor'Themar, pinging her scrying orb, and breaking her out of her fugue. 

This served as a catalyst, and Syra squinted her eyes, and observed her surroundings. 

After countless minutes of fantasizing about Varrus and her role in his future dramatic performances, Syra realized that the rain was beginning to pick up, and the sun was starting to transition into dusk.

Lor'Themar had sent her out here on a mission. While she didn't take his orders seriously whatsoever, failing the mission would reflect badly on her, which would in turn cast a negative light on both House Vandercross, but more importantly, on her husband. 

And nobody besmirched Varrus's honor! 

Putting away her scrying orb again, Syra glanced at Jan'alai and Tess. 

The Human and Troll women were standing awfully close to her, and had the pent up looks of people itching for a battle. 

‘Good friends. They are just like me.’ Syra thought, and smiled to herself. 

“Aha, I know that smile! It's clobberin time!” Jan'alai smashed her club into her palm with a meaty thwack, and howled in joy. 

“No, no, the best method is to let Syra and I learn their weaknesses, disable any traps, and assassinate the leadership. Then the fodder will be yours to do with as you please.” Tess flicked her hand, and countered Jan'alai's position. 

“Bah! Tell her Syra, these are nothing but a buncha weaklings!” Jan'alai turned away from Tess, and scoffed. 

“Sis, Syra! The unit we were sent to reinforce is nowhere in sight, and there are no signs of combat. This is obviously a trap!” Tess pulled closer, and entreated Syra with a puppy dog look. 

Syra took both of her companions’ words into consideration. 

Silently nodding her head, she slowly drew her black blade. 

Runes of power lit up as she held it within her grasp. 

“Yeh-hesss. Now we kill!” Jan'alai punched her open palm repeatedly in excitement. 

Tess rolled her eyes, but readied herself all the same. 

“Follow my lead. We rush in a straight line from this end of the city to the next gate, killing everything in our path.” Syra succinctly gave her orders. 

Then, without waiting for a reply, she took off in a dazzling burst of speed. 80% of the thousand-man group of zombies at the gatehouse were diced up by her within less than a minute. 

“Hey, leave some for me!” Jan'alai roared in good cheer, then turned back to Tess. “Try to keep up, mouse!” Jan'alai taunted as she smashed her way through several dozen zombies. 

“Meat head.” Tess muttered to herself, and began porting around the battlefield, and eviscerated many foes. 

A dagger flew through the air, braining a zombie Jan'alai was about to clobber, and then disappeared into the shadowy void, only to reappear into the skull of another Undead. 

“Oi! Those were mine!” Jan'alai raged. 

“Try and keep up.” Tess replied with the ghost of a smile, and ported to another section of the town. 

“Oh it is on! Let's see who has the most kills by the end of this, mouse!” 

While Tess and Jan'alai were competing, and killing everything left in Syra's wake, Syra had made it to the central town square. 

An entire unit of over a thousand Gilneans, a hundred Elves, and five hundred Kobolds had been placed on spikes. 

Adding on to this gruesome scene was one grim detail. 

They were still alive. 

Syra found such cruelty barbaric even by her standards. 

Those who threatened her were put to a swift end. This was just sick. 

“Ahh, it seems I lost one. Come here my pretty, you shall be my crown jewel in this grand display of art. My masterpiece!” A Heroic Lich floated forward, and blasted Syra with a powerful chunk of ice. 

Syra wordlessly broke through the attack as if it were made from the thinnest panes of glass. 

Necrotic ice shattered everywhere into a million pieces, and the Lich only had time to stare at Syra in confusion as her sword rapidly closed the distance, and pierced his skull. 

“Feisty aren't you? Do not worry my dear, this is but a flesh wound. I shall return to-hrm?!?!” The Lich was calmly monologuing at Syra, and was covertly reaching out a frost laden hand to press against her abdomen, when suddenly, the purple gold energy of the Holy Void suffused his body and soul, eating him up until there was nothing left. 

Syra wordlessly withdrew her sword, and glanced at the suffering people. 

She was still iffy on her healing skills, but she had trained somewhat with the-now Undead-priest, Dawnbringer. 

Tapping her chin in thought, Syra realized this would be the perfect excuse to bring Varrus to her! 

Sending out a quick message to Varrus about her situation, as well as an image of the horror visited upon this unit, Syra turned to the noise of oncoming Abominations, and Gargoyles and raised her sword. 

This city would be hers by the end of the day. 

~~~~~~~

AN: the thing about living-for a time-while impaled is real. Vlad the Impaler did it to his enemies, and death wasn't always immediate. It could last days. Gruesome stuff!