Isfas

Isfas

Smoke acrid and dense billowed out of the ground where the young woman once stood. "That should do it he thought." Breathing heavily from the last round of battle. Whoever this woman was, wherever she had come from, she was a nuisance that had finally been dealt with. Or so the young man had thought. From behind movement and a voice angelic yet at the same time sinister and full of contempt called out to him. "Is that it? Is that the best the mighty Isfas can do?" There she stood barely a scratch. "I'd have thought by now you'd be able to recognize your betters!" she mocked him, chided him into anger. The young man spins around, hate filling his soul, rage contorting his features. His hands raised to prepare a spell. "Too slow!" she mocked again, he recognized only too late she had already finished a spell of her own. A wave of dark energy assaulted the young mans mind, falling, fading, he was unconcious before he even hit the ground.

"Isfas..... ISFAS!!" the shouts became louder and louder but the young boy paid them no heed, he was too busy being a child and enthralled by the world around him. "There you are!" the instructor growled through clenched teeth. "Our lessons were to start over a half hour ago, and here I find you in the courtyard wasting the day away! How are you ever going to become a great Magister like your father if you continue to neglect your studies by doing nothing?!!" The young boy turned to face the noise comming from behind him, his short cut bright red hair almost glowing in the mid morning sun. He didnt like this man, this instructor his father had hired, didn't like his tone or demeanor, he was brash and loud like most humans. He had no place in Silvermoon, Isfas thought to himself.

"Well?!! Are you going to answer me or just continue to stand there with that slack-jawed look of a peasant on your face?!" The man continued to shout, as if the young Blood Elf was deaf. "I wasn't standing here doing nothing." the young boy said, turning away dismissively. "I was talking with Ko'arax." "You are too old to have imaginary friends and I will not tolerate your insolence and disrespect anymore, if you were my son I'd.." "But he is not," came another voice from the courtyard doorway, "and while I pay you to teach my son the Arcane, my wife and I would appreciate it if you would do so with a much more civil tone."

"Good morning father!" the young boy chimed in Thalassian. "Good morning my son," his father beamed a smile back at him. "I think you've angered the good instructor enough, now run along and prepare for your studies and no more Thalassian please." he said with stern look in their native tongue. "Yes father, I understand." Isfas spoke in common, looking down at his feet. "There then thats all taken care of, Instructor Enarias please give my son a moment and he will meet you in the library for todays studies. In the meanwhile I'd like to have a word with you regarding some of the events that have unfolded over the last month here in Silvermoon." "Very well," Enarias said finally calming, his face no longer bright red and sweaty."

Both men tower over the young boy, the Instructor slightly shorter and heavier than his father, wearing a simple scholars robe, embroidery on his robes left chest side. Most likely the emblem of his house. Isfas thought to himself, surley no where near as old or as noble as his own families history. Not at all like his father, tall and stauesque, adorned with robes of scarlett red trimmed with gold markings and runes, common for Magisters of his fathers rank. Yet far more regal looking than anything Isfas had seen in his studies of the other races "Nobility". He laughed to himself, Enarias darker skin and short dirty brown hair, his father light skinned with longer bright red hair, they looked so different standing together, how could they be friends he thought.

"Very well I'm off to get ready, I'll speak with you later this evening ok?" Isfas said as he ran off through the courtyard door. "Yes I'll see you this evening my son." "Oh! yes I'll see you tonight father at dinner!" Isfas disappeared into the manor. "That was odd." the Magister mused for a moment. "Hmmph," Enarias snorted, "Most likely he was saying goodbye to his imaginary friend. I tell you M'lord Meleri hes too old to have this fascination, he's too distracted to focus on his studies!" The Magister chuckles, "So were you when I trained you in the ways of the Arcane Enarias, I had this same talk with your father, and how many times must I tell you to stop being so formal and call me Al'Niar?" "What would the other nobles think of me, being on a first name basis with a High Magistor of Silvermoon, especially one that has hired me to teach his son the Arcane?" smirked Enarias, knowing what kind of response this would provoke.

"Bah, you worry too much about what those pretentious fools think of you, you and I both know that..." the Magister stopped suddenly, turning to where Isfas had been standing in the courtyard. Hand raised as an amber glow begins to engulf his fist, "What is it M'lord!?" Enarias shouts, looking around for whatever it was that has the Magister spooked. "It's.... nothing.." Al'Niar says, lowering his fist. The magical energies he had summoned fading. "I thought I felt... nevermind. It was nothing I thought we were being watched, I'm just being paranoid, what with the young Prince Sunstrider visiting from Dalaran." "Well the Prince of the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas would make an excellant target should one want to harm Silvermoon, but I think the pressures of being a Magister are getting to you my friend." "Your probably right, come let's speak inside on our way to library. After all the time we spent tracking down Isfas we dont want him to wander off, and hes getting frustrated judging by the look on his face." The Magister motions towards the open window of the study on the second floor. Enarias looks up and once Isfas sees hes been noticed walks away from the window.

"Still not at his desk." Enarias sighs heavily. Both men begin to walk into the manor discussing various tasks to be done with the Prince's visit...neither notice the ethereal set of yellow eyes, watching them from the back of courtyard, watching, waiting. As the men disappear into the manor so too do the eyes fade into nothing.....the breeze rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees as if nothing has transpired here this day.

".....get up ........GET UP!!!" Startled the young man opens his eyes, groggy he sits up. Eyes still adjusting to the darkness, only a few torches remain in the room after the battle. Isfas slowly rises to his feet, carefull to take in his surroundings. A small rumble and the shifting of dirt beneath his feet, small debris fall from the ceiling. The room a total wreck after his fight with the woman, the entrace completely blocked from the collapsed ceiling. "No doubt her doing." he scoffs, "Someone as inexperianced as she should not be allowed to weild magic!" "....inexeperianced...your just...saything that ....to make yourself feel better.... pathetic" a voice whispers inside his head. "your the one.....who lost"

"ENOUGH!" the he shouts to no one. "I must find a way out of these accursed catacombs, and when I do woman I will toss whats left of your carcass into the Twisting Nether myself!" Grabbing a nearby torch on the wall the young man makes his way down the ruined corridor, searching for a way out.

An eternity of walking down twisting corridors lined with the rotting bodies of ancient Trolls, laid out in stone alcoves. Sweat mixed with dirt running down his brow, the air getting stale. How much farther he thinks to himself. And what vile traps have the cursed Amani left for me he ponders, or worse how many of the ancient Amani have been left for me. The thought of another battle so soon makes his muscles ache, his head still throbbing from that last spell. "Dam that woman!" he whispers to himself. "This is twice shes foiled my plans, and how did she learn my name." Comming to a fork in the path Isfas stops to contemplate, "Perhaps I shall ask her, before I flay the flesh from her bones..." Left or right, hard to think with the pain. Isfas reaches into his belt pouch. "Dammit no more reagents."

He bends down to pick up a stone and scratches an X in the left paths wall. "There, now at least if I get turned around I'll have some sort of marker in this pit." The corridor twists and turns, several of the tombs have spilled their remains onto the cavern floor. Isfas thinks to himself how much this tunnel reminds him of the Dear Scar. Then from ahead, the sound of battle. "Could it be?" he thinks as he quickens his pace, "Could I be so fortunate that shes trapped in here with me." Running now, faster, his blood pumping and his anger rising. From up ahead light. Suddenly screams, one bestial and unnatural, the other sickeningly familiar.

The corridor ends abrubtly, opening up to another antechamber like the one before. A large central dias carved and mutilated with nicks and cuts, most likely from years of sacrifice sits atop a small raised platform in the middle of the room. A large brass gong depicting the Troll Bear God at the southern end, and a long dried fountain at the northern most point. And there amid the still flaming braziers, locked in combat with the largest Troll hes ever seen, stands the source of his anger and misery. "You contemptible witch!!" Isfas shouts with as much hatred as he can muster.

The undead monstrosity turns its head, roaring with rage at this new intruder. Its pallid skin, dry and cracking revealing bone. Its huge limbs ending in large malformed claws, breath reaking of rot and disease. "Oh my dear sweet Isfas we you concearned for my well being?" she calls out, mockery once again fills her voice. "Perish the thought wench, I will be the one who grinds your bones to powder, not this hulking thing!" The beast swings at the woman who dodges its slow attack easily.

The altar guardian swings again, hitting one of the four pillars supporting the ceiling causing debris and rubble to come toppling down. Now he thinks while its distracted, as withered as this thing is Fire should make short work of it. Focus, concentrate, the words flow and energy gathers. Flames erupt along the creatures back causing it to thrash and writhe. Swinging wildly it misses Isfas, and crashes into one of the braziers spilling its contents across the floor separating the young man from his intended prey with a wall of fire.

The beast, almost completely consumed in fire falls and ceases to writhe. Isfas looks around frantically, so close he thinks, she won't get away this time. There across the room he sees her climbing the rubble, but for what purpose. Then he sees it, the damage from the battle has opened a room above. Realizing he cannot get to her, Isfas fires a bolt of energy at the woman and misses. "My my such a violent little Sin'dorei." she squeals in Thalassian. She stops and pulls back her hood, revealing a young Blood Elf, with long ebony hair, much like his own.

"Who are you?" he roars. "And how do you know my name, for what purpose do you seek to interfere with my goals?" "Questions questions, I can't answer them all now can I, that would take all the mystery out of this game." She reaches into her cloak and produces a jeweled rod. "The scepter of Vel'Torran! So you did follow me here to steal it from me!" "Not at all friend, nothing personal its just buisness." she smiles and turns to leave. Looking over her shoulder "Meeriana..." she says, with a slight nod she scrambles up the debris and disappears thru the opened ceiling.

"Meeriana." Isfas repeats, the flames illuminating the room, causing shadows to dance and flicker about. "I will find you woman, I will find you...."