Boss Bit*hes

6/8 late morning

The three blonde women strode into Demon Fall Ridge. The Burning Legion outpost was significant, but their defenses were mostly at the ground level. The rain of icicles the size of a man’s head injured many of the demons, killing a few. While Jaina maintained it, Anveena navigated and Aegwynn obliterated anyone that dared to approach them. Not that they were exposed; a dozen water elementals were in formation around the mages, summoned by the Lady of Theramore.

The women were here with two missions. First, they were going to kill the Nathrezim in charge of this coven. If their mana reserves held up, only a concern for Aegwynn and Jaina, they would also be picking up the corpse of Grommash Hellscream, which was interred here before the area was retaken by demons. The hope was that they’d be able to finish both objectives before Jaina ran out of steam.

The infernals were the biggest problem, requiring a few moments of focused effort from the two arcane mages to take down, but they were able to track down the leader of the coven without too much trouble with Anveena using the target tracker. “Um. I think he’s in that hill somehow? We walked around it twice and it keeps pointing there. There’s probably a cave.”

Aegwynn shrugged. “I’ll take care of it. Cover my back.” The other two women did just that, standing to either side of their substantially older companion as she etched a rather elaborate rune into the ground. It took nearly a minute to finish, and would only be useful in a war scenario where she was sufficiently guarded that she could reasonably expect time to focus. Of course, if such conditions could be arranged…

Aegwynn oriented herself using the tracking app before unleashing a torrent of arcane energy, a searingly bright blue-white wave that irradiated every living thing in a cone before her. The demons they could see crumbled into crystalline dust. The ones they couldn’t presumably did the same. Aegwynn slumped over, leaning on her conjured wooden spear for support. “Yep. That got him. The tome is in storage.”

Jaina hardly reacted to the destruction, dismissing it as irrelevant now that her primary mission was complete. “Alright. Let’s get moving. I want to be done and ready for Nefarian.”

Unfortunately, the enemy was rallying to get them while Aegwynn was tired. As a Dryad she was able to fight with her spear at range or in melee, but that was a far cry from the firepower she had demonstrated up to this point. Anveena couldn’t handle more than one infernal at a time without substantial assistance, and there were certainly more things trying to kill them than an internal or two. As the water elementals were overwhelmed, the team’s spotters pulled the trio out. Grom could wait for another day; he’d been dead for years already.

••••••••••

Highlord Taelen Fordring greeted Inquisitor Whitemane with a smile as the caravan of new recruits made their way into his city of Hearthglen. Sally clinically noted that he was a decent looking man, though she couldn’t feel any particular desire for him. She didn’t often come to Hearthglen, but Highlord Fordring had always been kind in his letters. Maybe a bit soft, meant for happier times. Hopefully he’d live long enough to rule in a purified Lordaeron. He wasn’t her target, but as the Lord of Hearthglen he would still be useful. It might be good for her to inject him with her sting; if nothing else he was a damn fine Paladin. A shame she didn’t actually have her sting.

Sally wasn’t actually Sally, unfortunately. Her core self’s name was Doris; the real Sally Whitemane was far too valuable to deploy on a mission like this. Doris had all of her memories uploaded through mind runes, and had been training with Anduin in the light for a week. She could play the part flawlessly, save the resurrection. She’d need to call the real version in for that.

She didn’t need to pretend to be someone anymore, as she had when Vanessa first reforged her. For most purposes, so long as she adopted this persona, she was High Inquisitor Sally Whitemane. Everything from her painful memories of the third war to her new relationship with Tony felt perfectly real, completely natural. She was here for one purpose above all others: to capture Grand Inquisitor Isillien. The reward was great, and the capture of Isillien would be one step closer to the purification of the Scarlet Crusade, so she was proud to carry out the task.

As Sally spoke to Highlord Taelin, mixing in the very faintest hint of flirtation to fluster the younger man, she considered how to isolate the Grand Inquisitor. A shame he wasn’t a lech. This would be so much easier if she could just seduce him.

••••••••••

“You need to focus, Archaedes. Erich Bismark is not our enemy. The shadow looms over this world, and the enemy will react to it if we do not. Waiting is not enough!” She could tell from his stony expression that he didn’t believe her. He thought that she was influenced by the shadow. What an irony, when she could never be threatened by such corruption again. She may have been stolen from the titans, but they were dead by Sargeras’s hand, and thus incapable of bringing order to the universe. Her new prime designate had informed her of such, and she had no reason to doubt him. “You’ll see in time. I hope before it is too late.”

Archaedes had far more advanced mental defenses than Ironaya, which was unfortunate in this case. If this delay cost the cause of Order dearly, Archaedes would be devastated once he’d been set straight. She considered what might work, what approach might convince him. She logged her thoughts for Miss Natalie, so as to not distract herself while working on the disks.

Ironaya was no expert with the Disks of Norgannon, but she would do her best. She had a rough starting point, the battle with that red dragon yesterday, so hopefully they would be able to track down the target. It would take time, however.

••••••••••

Faerlina clicked her tongue and made kissing noises as she held out the smoked fish. Mr. Bigglesworth was smarter than the average cat, capable of communicating with his master as a familiar, but he was still a cat. Free food was an enticing prospect.

The Siamese looked at her with his glowing blue eyes, weighing the benefits and detriments of taking her proffered gift. On the one hand, it did smell good in a way that little he encountered did these days. The cult of the damned didn’t have very high quality food on hand, being a bunch of fanatics. His partner tried, but Kel’Thuzad didn’t even have a tongue anymore; he frequently forgot that Bigglesworth needed to eat without reminders. Of course, eating the food would require standing and padding over to the red haired woman, nearly two feet away. He was sitting on a very nice, warm patch of stone and she might be convinced to come closer if he kept staring, so that was what he’d do.

The red haired human knelt down in front of him, which was appropriate for one of his stature, and placed the fish next to him. She’d placed it so that merely craning his head wouldn’t give him a very good angle, but the smell was mouthwatering. Incompetent human; he hissed his disapproval, but she just sat there expectantly. Glaring at her, he stood up and began eating.

A few moments later, while he was distracted, the human grabbed him and wrapped a chain around his neck. Then, to add insult to injury, she cut off his collar even as the chain melted and reformed into a leather collar much like it. She dropped him, dropped him, and started fiddling with her amulet. Naturally, he ran straightaway to his partner. If Kel'Thuzad couldn’t keep his subordinates in line, they might need to rethink this whole Scourge business. When he reached his partner’s temporary quarters in the mayor’s office, however, the thought didn’t come. He could not project the message he wished to, the justification for his fury simply could not be communicated.

“One moment, Mr. Bigglesworth. Yes, master. As it turns out the dark citadel was not in fact ours. Yes. Yes. No. I don’t know how else to explain it. It belongs to a man named Erich Bismark, apparently. No. No, I don’t believe I’ve been mentally compromised. You may of course inspect my mind at your leisure. I’ll focus on the relevant memories. Yes, I’m glad you understand. So clearly we couldn’t stay. Yes I understand a new Necropolis may take time, but this was really an unforeseeable situation.”

Well, Faerlina, just you wait. Mr. Bigglesworth didn’t know exactly how she was preventing his speech, so he would just need to sit on his partner’s things, anything he happened to be working on, until he noticed what was wrong and dealt with it. Kel’Thuzad could be smart occasionally. He’d figure it out.

••••••••••

“Hello, sir. I’m here to sell a few more.” I laid them all out on the table. It was a different person behind the desk this time; instead of a gnome in a snazzy hat, it was a man in black robes and a blue hood.

“Ah. Hey, would you mind telling me why you’re selling this one? Any suggestions how to make them more useful?” He held up the tiny replica of a mercenary camp that could easily become the real thing.

“I mean. The last one was kinda disappointing, you know? Now that I think about it, I'm not really sure where I’d use one of those. Like, maybe if I didn’t have a tech tree to work on? But then I wouldn’t even have any energy or essence to spend, right?”

“Alright.” He wrote down some notes. “And the temptress bells? I noticed that you managed to use one on Faerlina quite effectively. I’m surprised to see you selling them off.”

“I just don’t have that many hot, powerful, isolated women trying to kill me at all costs. The credits are a lot more flexible.”

“Right, right,” more scribbling in his book. “Do you happen to have any other things you have concerns with?”

“Uh. The prices on the Nerubian tech tree seem a little low?”

“Do go on.”