Heresy

Phantasm's icy form, when witnessed against the blistered russet soil of Hellfire Peninsula was not easy to miss.

The spiked hair, the reconstructed jaw, the dark blue gown were all distinct, but most of all it was the scent of ice and electricity carried on the desert air that always surrounded him, the smell of a storm brewing.

He tilted his head calmly and blinked his golden, preternatural eyes as he looked at the little warlock next to him, demonic bitch that she was, she really should die too....but not right now, not as long as she was useful to him.

It suited his purposes that she had no allegiance to anyone; out of her utter lack of interest, a peculiar honesty had emerged. She'd tell you anything, because she simply didn't care about anyone.

She had no idea as he smiled benevolently at her that Phantasm wished her dead; he wished them all dead, to burn as they had in life, for destroying his family - they must all burn....

The screams echoed still in the mind of a young boy, as the warlocks decended upon them, souls ripped from their mortal cages like fledgling birds...

Yes, Arcorash.

You will die, just as they did.


"So you have seen him? He's in the Outlands?" It was all Phantasm could do, to contain his excitement as he eyed the girl up and down.

"Yup", Fireflower's tiny shoulders shrugged, her robe whipping around her legs as a dusty breeze enveloped them both. "Mistermaster. He taught me to tend the garden a long time ago...he says I'm stronger now...."

Fireflower started babbling on incoherently about gardens and souls, interrupted finally by the mage's mad outburst.

"That bitch!" Phantasm muttered, low and gutteral, electric blue sparks crackling around him at the outburst of emotion. " She lied to me...Heresy..."

"Dunno."

"She'll die too." he snarled. "Can't trust these women..."

His eyes glanced back over Fireflower's form, for a moment, sickened at his own stolen glance. To him she was a source of information, she was not even a woman - she was less than a woman, unholy, demonic spawn.

Demon, woman, warlock - Fireflower was all of them, and none of them. Unwitting pawn and cruel assailant. Innocent product of Legion creativity, and deadly uncompromising child.

It didn't matter that Heresy had not actually seen the warlock herself; and that Phantasm's accusations of the rogue were technically unjustified.

None of this mattered to the mage; for all he had heard was that Arcorash was in the Outlands. That was all that mattered.


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Heresy had made the trip wearily back to Orgrimmar, dusty and worn out, anxiously leaning over a rock, trying to figure out how she was going to explain to Haramad that...Gruul still lived.

Hovered over a blank parchment, chewing a quill anxiously she would begin, then erase, then begin again only to let out a frustrated yelp everytime the letter didn't meet with her satisfaction.

"Prince Haramad...we regret to infor....."

A sigh.

"Prince Haramad, despite our best efforts so far, we..."

Sigh again.

"Sir, it appears we will need more time to adequately...."

With a growl she crumples up the paper and throws it into the nearby brazier and starts afresh.

"Prince Haramad, King Maulgar will no longer be a problem; we will update you as soon as Gruul has been handled."

She held it up, sighed, knowing full well the Prince's first reaction would be. Nevertheless, it would have to do. She stepped up to the post box in time to hear shuffling feet and the dark, distinctive chuckle of an undead male she'd heard a thousand times prior.

She turned her head slowly, and her mouth opened in a wide 'O' at the sight before her.

Jeremiah Vecht was dancing in the middle of Ogrimmar.

"Arco..??? Er.." she blinked, correcting herself. "Jeremiah??"

The man abruptly stopped, looking almost sheepish a moment as he excused himself from the other men and made his way over.

"Heresy, its good to see you."

"And..you but..since when do you dance?" she laughed, utterly shocked at the warlock's calm and happy demeanour.

"Why not?" he shrugged, smiling. "So how are you?"

"I'm fine, just taking care of a few things back on the homeland here. Incidentally....I saw you in Zangarmarsh just the other day...with Fireflower."

The warlock seemed unconcerned by her statment, merely raising his brows and smiling pleasantly again. "Yes? I think I can help her. She's my little messed-up girl...."

At his strange words Heresy could only stare openly at him, as if he'd gone mad once again.

"Help...your GIRL........Jeremiah do you have any idea what you're dealing with?"

"Her father was a demon, right?"

"Well..yes. But its more than that, she's a walking cyclone, that girl leaves a trail of problems wherever she goes. She's dangerous, Jeremiah, to herself, and to just about everything else. You know she nearly got me killed."

"Nashtoch." he said simply, his eyes dulling slightly. "Yes, that was unfortunate, I think he was beyond redemption."

Flashback to a tomb in the Badlands and a gentle tailor entombed forever...never to die, unable to leave. Pipmat. Nashtoch did this to you, because of me. I will never forget.

"He probably was." Heresy said quietly, still ashamed -deeply - of her own hand in the matter.

"Nevertheless, I think it is worth trying. She has power, Heresy. I must show her how to control it; she can't go without some guidance."

"Just..Arco please...." Heresy still had the hardest time calling him by his name, with all the history between them, with all the name had come to represent the warlock before her was still Arcorash, even if he had left that life behind him. "...promise me you'll be careful."

He nodded, a small surprised smile crossing his face as the rogue's hand found his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

Heresy smiled back a moment before snapping her fingers.

"Oh there's one more thing...someone is looking for you.."

He sighed and tilted his head. "Oh? Well ...I probably have a few people looking for me, Heresy. I made more than a few enemies in my time. Who was it?"

"He's a mage. He goes by the name Phantasm. He told me to tell him if I saw you - of course I hadn't at the time but...he's looking for you. And I don't know why but...bah, its probably just me...I felt I should tell you."

He nodded at her and waved one hand dismissively. "I can' t worry about every person looking for me, I'd go insane trying."

Heresy smiled and sighed. "Of course not."

"I should go but...Heresy..."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for trusting me."

"Despite your earlier advice, Arc...Jeremiah...I always did have a tendency to do that."

She grinned widely then as she watched the ever-increasing violet light spin around the warlock, as the dreadsteed was called back to his Master's command, neighing angrily, tortured but magnificent, a powerful flaming crimson beast.

Heresy could only watch him ride away, with a mixture of emotions she would not have a chance of untangling.

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"I wrote the story myself. It's about a girl who lost her reputation and never missed it." - Mae West
Fireflower's Words of Wisdom: http://i200.photobucket.com/albums/a...ompilation.jpg