Walking through the darkened hallways beneath the keep was Sherpa, traveling alone through the long and lonely corridors.
The High Elf would continue on for a while, reaching the catacombs beneath the fort where the walls became adorned with carvings and arched together up into the roof. There was barely any light inside. The only source of illumination was a ghastly blue light that burned without scent or smoke, lighting the halls with a haunting, blue light.
Sherpa continued onwards, until he reached an opened door; leading into a larer, wide room filled with heavy stone slabs. Upon most of the slabs were bodies, both Human and Blood Elven. Some of the bodies were mangled, and on some slabs there were only body parts strew across the stone.
Aside from Sherpa, the only other living creature in the room was an old, harrowed man wearing a long and white priestly robe. His beard was pale as snow and hung down all the way to his belt, which carried multiple bags and satchels filled with various surgical equipment. Some of the tools looked rather cruel, while others looked downright bizarre and alien. Hanging from his shoulders was a bandoleer filled with various vials and flasks carrying everything from embalming fluids to strange, opaque and luminescent liquids.
"Where is he?" Sherpa would ask, turning his attention to the embalmer as the old man was leaning over the corpse of a young man; in the process of removing his clothes.
The embalmer grunted, merely nodding his head to the right. A couple of slabs away was Sevarian, the dark mage's corpse lying silent on one of the stone slabs. His hands were formed together on his chest, and he was still wearing his armor. His white tabard still carried the bloodstains from his wound, defiling the otherwise pure white fabric.
"Thank you, Morpheous. I shall try not to disturb your work any further." Sherpa said as he walked over to Sevarian, silently nodding in return to the embalmer who didn't even seem to notice him as he was all too consumed in his work on preparing the corpses.
Morpheous, also commonly known as The Embalmer, had been an old acquaintance of Sherpa. A caretaker long before he was ever recruited by the Cult of the Damned before the Third War. A fully educated surgeon and doctor, but whose main interest lay mainly in preserving, studying and/or modifying corpses. Sherpa sometimes wondered if the man had truly ever had any loyalty to the Scourge itself. As long as he was allowed to work in peace in the dark reaches of a quiet mausoleum or necropolis, he doubted the man ever cared about who owned the place or paid his dues. Whether it was preparing corpses for burials, or for an undead army, the man didn't really seem to care. Nonetheless, even though he never said it, Sherpa liked to think that Morpheous still felt a degree of gratitude towards him for saving him from the onslaught of the crusades in the north.
Sherpa walked over to the stone slab where his old friend lay, quiet as death.
Staring down at Sevarian for a moment, studying his corpse; Sherpa would eventually reach down to his belt to unseath his Runeblade. Holding it over the corpse of the darkmaster, Sherpa would begin muttering on an unholy incantation.
Green, ghostly tendrils began appearing around Sevarian's body. A black smoke started gathering at his feet at the bottom of the stone slab, and Sevarian's figure started to shift; as if a magical layer had appeared over his body. But soon, a ghostly version of the dark mage would soon rise from his corpse! Sevarian's incorporeal ghost rose up from his body, passing through any physical obstructions as though it was nothing. The face of his ghost was barely recognizable, shrouded by his loose form. The apparition looked more like a loose amalgamation of wild gasses and smoke.
Sevarian's ghostly self gazed forward, before his incorporeal body turned to look at Sherpa.
"Am I... dead?" He would ask, his voice now shrill and hollow as it echoed through the room.
"Yes. But you didn't truly believe I would let you leave me that easily?" Sherpa answered in return with a slight smirk.
"No.... but I had hoped for something more grandiose. Not to be a mere shade." Sevarian answered, the disappointment quite clear in his ghostly voice.
"Shades make excellent assassins. Are you not interested in revenge against those who stole your life?" Sherpa inquired, stepping around the slab as he eyed the ghost in front of him with a spark of curiosity.
"No. I had intended to get rid of that body for a long time. As for the mortals who did this, I do not care for them. Death will soon find its way to them regardless." Sevarian talked with a thoughtful expression on his face, holding a ghostly hand up to his chin.
"No, what I am more interested in is the ritual of Lichdom that I had planned for so long."
"I'm afraid we cannot partake in any such ritual anytime soon." Sherpa replied, taking a glance around at the bodies surrounding them.
"After the last attack, we are bound to come under investigation. I have ordered the entire fort be scrubbed clean of any dark artifacts, so that when the royal authorities come looking; they will find nothing."
"And what of me?" Asked Sevarian.
"My apprentice, Malizia, is returning from her hunt out in the south sea aboard Lordearon's Revenge. Together with Horus, she has enjoyed great success against both the natives and the pirates of the region. They even managed to destroy a small fleet of Horde ships. Not only will she return with plenty of gold from contracts, but I have been promised a large amount of loot as well. Capital which we can use to rebu,-"
"Spare me her praises or your economics. How does this affect me?" Sevarian would interrupt, the ghost appearing impatient. Sherpa paused, turning to look at his old friend.
"She will come and take with her both you and your corpse, as well as our illicit storage. I will also send with you two of our veteran necromancers, alongside four of our newly graduated acolytes to aid in your Lich ritual - far away from the shores of Stormwind and the spying eyes of the church. You will be in good hands. Leoric and Bard have been in numerous Lich rituals and served under grand Lich Kel'Thuzad himself. As for the acolytes... you trained them yourselves, didn't you?"
"Yes. It appears my rise to Lichdom will be their final examination. If they fail this, I can promise I will haunt them forever." Sevarian muttered, almost dreading the thought of putting his ascension to lichdom in the hands of raw acolytes. Back in the Scourge, he had enjoyed command over a considerable chapter of the Cult of the Damned, with seasoned dark casters numbering in the dozens. But here, in Stormwind, they had to get by with raw initiates and whatever veterans they had managed to scrounge from the Scourge's defeat.
"But what about you. What will you be doing?"
"Damage control." Sherpa answered bluntly.
"And perhaps some retaliation. Our position in Stormwind has been jeopardized. I need to stabilize things here. The cleanup of the fort is already underway, and I have already sent our emissary, Johanna, to the offices of Stormwind's newspaper to give them all the information they could ever need to spin a good story about what's happened here tonight."
"Is it truly so wise?" Sevarian would inquire. Sherpa looked back at him, before smiling.
"My friend, the message itself is not important. What's important is how it is conveyed. And I have my firm belief that Joahanna will not let us down."
