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Mages and Martyrs	By : Jenn-o-cide Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6397 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or enivronment. WoW and all previous Warcraft versions belong to Blizzard entertainment, and i recieve no money for this.

Chapter List
- 1-The Meeting
- 2-On the Bloody Fields of Snow
- 1
- 2
Author’s Notes: This is something I’m currently toying with in my mind. Basically in this version, Sylvanas is back to being under the command of the lich king, though his leash over her mind has been lifted. I personally have never blamed Arthas for what he’s done. Hell, he had the burning legion, frost mourne, Nerzhul, and KT all whispering in his mind at once, that’s a lot of ‘oh shit’s!’ for a paladin-in-training to deal with, thus, I feel his madness was warranted. What I did go ‘wtf’ to was Jaina’s ‘Yea.. No, I’m not going to watch you take down Strathholme… I’m not going to even remotely assert myself to try and stop you or talk reason to you or anything either. Infact, just go do your own thing.’ Powerful, benevolent beautiful mage trained in dalaran… just going ‘Yea, I don’t like this, so I’m not going to do anything’? Really? So, I thought it fun to put that as part of Sylvie’s perspective of her whole predicament. Hell, if Jaina had done a little more than stare doey-eyed at him, Her people may never have been killed.

[Prologue]

The Argent Dawn’s tournament grounds had finally gotten quiet as the champions and mounts began to lay to rest. All the well-knowns of both factions had shown up for the festivities of unity and strength from Wrynn to Thrall, but it was none of these that she had interest in as she silently moved about the camp. There was one tent in particular she sought on this night, and the aura of arcane potency that emitted from it made it very hard to miss.

The mage, Jaina Proudmoore, silently read through a tome in the candle light, seemingly relaxing from the festivities of the day as well. As the fallen queen moved to phase herself through the wall of the tent, Jaina’s eyes would look up, starting to swell with arcane fire. “I can sense you Banshee. Your Lich King is quite bold if he thinks he can end me so easily.” The banshee would here take a more physical form. Her eyes shown white with sorrow and lament as she bowed down before the mage. “Syl.. Sylvanas? Why have you come? Why do you wreak of the Lich King’s corruption once more?” Without words, the Banshee queen would lay a letter. Her eyes would longing stare at Jaina, before looking back to the note on the floor as the Mage curiously picked it up with much concern. “What is-.” As Jaina looked up, the physical form of Sylvanas had left her tent, “this?”
The letter had been delivered successfully. Her plans where all coming into place. Soon, she would have her much deserved and anticipated revenge to the person who had wronged her most in life, and in death.

The Letter:
[Proudmoore,
I dare not speak to you in words, as I fear the Lich King’s taint would twist them beyond their desired intention. Know that the manner for which I write to you is dire and after comprehension should be disposed of.
Though he has once again claimed the shell of my body, know that I still exist beneath these shackles. As I have once broke free of his grasp, I intend to do so again. I fear his grasp is far tighter than before, and my magic and heritage alone has proven incapable to grant me my desired independence. However, you hold a true tether to his being, and are renown to even the Kirin Tor. It is my belief that you alone hold the key to breaking this curse once and for all.
I ask this of you in confidence, and under the strong conviction. He still wears your locket beneath his armor., which leads me to believe if he should find out of my plan and your involvement, no harm will come to you, rather, his fury will be directed to my essence. Whether I become my own being again, or have my essence destroyed by his resolve, I deserve the chance to be at peace. My one chance will be tonight, as he recharges the souls in the Frost Mourne. I pray the tells of your compassion are true, and that you will meet me at this time tomorrow outside Sindragosa’s fall.
- S. W. ]

The Well-Laid Plans of Mages and Martyrs

Sylvanas watched coldly as her banshees finished their preparations on the highborne-imbued ground. On the surface she looked solemn, her pupil less eyes inspecting the task before her knowing it had to be perfect. She only had one chance at this and failure would bring upon her the fiery wrath of arcane energies she didn’t even pretend to comprehend. Though the consequences of failure struck true in her mind, it wasn’t the catalyst that made her breath silently shutter when she thought of the possible outcomes of her endeavor. No, she attributed this solely to anxiety brought about by the intangible exhilaration of success and the newfound freedom for which it promised.
She would feel the ripple of arcane magic moments before the appearance of the rift formed before her. The ever swelling waves and hues of arcane power carried the form of her forever-esteemed guest for the evening before dissipating into non-existence. Jaina Proudmoore, innocence ever emanating from her petite yet absurdly powerful form.
Sylvanas would respectfully nod at the mage‘s presence before starting to lead her to the ritual grounds. “You’ll forgive me for skipping the pleasantries, mi’lady, but time is not a luxury afforded at this moment. That said, know that after tonight, whether failure or success are woven into my fate, I will forever be in your debt.”
Jaina understood the fallen ranger’s need to be hasty. If the letter she sent rang true, her liberation from the Lich King was a very temporary one. Her goal was to relieve the fallen general of that curse, pleasantries could be caught up on upon triumph. She astonished however at the presence of the banshees, and the well-written runes that covered this once holy battleground. “It seems you have been preparing this for a long time.”
Sylvanas nodded solemnly, stepping through the runes and motioning to her banshees that the ritual was imminent. “When you are trapped with only but your thoughts and will to break free, you’d be surprised at how slowly time passes when left with only your thoughts and will. I’ve practiced so many times in my mental prison that the physical execution came without a thought.” She’d motion to the center of the ritual circle as Jaina’s position.:: “The banshees will act as a conduit to absorb the power of these grounds to further boost your own for the best possible outcome. Hurry now, I fear my will shall fade soon.”
“I understand,” the mage would whisper with empathy, pitying the elf before her. Tales of her valiance had not escaped her ears, how hard she fought to save her people. Few show such bravery and dedication to fight to the end, but she had done that and beyond, fighting him in undeath to break free from his corruption. To see her a mindless slave and his personal trophy once was discouraging, and after being reached out to, the ever benevolent Jaina Proudmoore had made it her personal charge to see the ranger freed once more. The unassuming mage took her position and brought a hand to her temple as she closed her eyes, beginning to focus her energies. “You may have your banshees begin the ritual.”
“My pleasure.“ Beneath the shade of her velvet cloak a cruel, twisted smile would curl upon her lips. The white aura the dimly shown through her eyes would seemingly instantaneously flush, converting to the hatred-filled crimson aura she had become very much accustomed to. This was the signal to her loyal handmaidens to execute their part in her scheme. The runes below them would begin to glow with a blue hue as the energy of the highborne was pulled from the earth below the denizens of the ceremony.

‘What magic is this? Something has gone wrong…’ Jaina couldn’t ignore the feeling of dread coursing within her. She opened her eyes just in time to see that blue aura changing, becoming tainted with the energies of the scourge. Before Jaina could perceive what was happening around her, the banshees would create a prison around the circle. The air instantly became heavy and foul, as if she was breathing in the poison of the undead itself. She sought to displace herself in time, to ’blink; herself out of the magical prison, but to her dismay the energy would not come to her. “What atrocity is this? Sylvanas, what have you done?” Her question would be answered with a low, insidious laugh that sent a chill through her. “Sylvanas- You must resist him!”
Jaina’s concerned words did little more than make fallen ranger grin wider. “Now, why would I want to do that?”
A blank look fell upon the mage’s face as she tried to make sense of the Sylvanas’ words. She knew that in life the woman was renown for her stealthy and well thought out ambushes, but only now did it occured to her that she had found herself entwined in one of them. As she grasped her situation so did she grasp her staff, taking an offensive stance and ready to do as necessary to break free. “I’m sorry that I must do this. May you find peace in your--”
In the course of Jaina’s words, Sylvanas would slide off one of her gauntlets and carelessly toss it a few inches in front of the mage. With that a light *snap* would sound from beneath the snow, followed by a succession of twangs around the mage as the Dark Lady’s trap went off. With the tension broke the hidden wire would whip up and begin ensnaring the mage. As the wire wrapped around, Sylvanas would lunge forward, shoulder tackling the mage to the ground. She would waste no time, and in the precious little moment Jaina was dazed from the force of the fall, Sylvanas would straddle on top of her with the ends of the wire in her grasp. Her knees would pin down the mages arms, digging them deep within her wristes while her free hand annoyed slid the mage’s staff out from underneath her body and inbetween the snare with a lightly annoyed sigh. She could feel her ‘savoir’ pushing up against her, her body bucking as she desperately tried to completely loosen the snares while the Ranger was taking the staff.
“There will be none of that,” Sylvanas would hiss, her body lightly ‘jumping’ before placing all her weight into her knees and into Jaina’s wristes. The mage would let out a scream of sudden pain as Sylvanas finished her work and tossed the staff to the side. With the stick out of the way, Sylvanas would begin tightening the snare around the human’s body despite her target’s unwilling screams of pain and fustration. She wouldn’t be satisfied until the tension was strong enough to begin embedding in the skin, just short of ripping through that soft, unblemished flesh.
Though for the most part Sylvanas ignored the human’s wails, rants, threats, and curses, her ears did perk lightly at one of her panicked questions. “Why have you gone to these lengths? If you are to kill me, just be done with it!”
“Asking so soon? Sorry Ms. Proudmoore,” she’d say with a mocking tone, looking down at the woman with a superior grin. “I’m not allowed to kill you. My King’s orders where very~ strict on that subject.” She’d lean down towards her, bringing her lips but an inch away from Jaina’s own as their eyes met.
Jaina’s resolve wouldn’t let her show fear as the intensity mimic’d her captor’s hatred. The stare wouldn’t be broken until the sound of sliding metal echoed from below her. Instinct made Jaina’s eyes avert to origin of the sound to see the gnarled ebon steel dagger Sylvanas had unsheathed from her belt.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t have alittle fun though,” the ranger would add amusingly, her other hand coming to Jaina’s chin, gently bringing her gaze back up to meet her own.
“You’re a monster!” she’d scream out, her face twisting in disdain, once again struggling underneath the ranger. As she did, the friction of her skin rubbing against the sleek, thin wires would begin adding micro cuts as they dug in, at first not being visible, but over time small trickles of blood would begin to mark her body.
With each wriggle of pain and despair, Sylvanas could feel the excitement flowing through her. While the mage continued her rants of defiance and disgust, Sylvanas’ hand would comb into Jaina’s long, blonde hair tenderly. “Not completely. After all, I did mean what I said before. I am truly, truly indebted to you. After all, if you hadn’t completely tore the heart and humanity out of Arthas, he wouldn’t have ended up at my doorstep.” Here she decided to show her appreciation physically, her hand balling into a fist and pulling Jaina’s lips to her own. As she tried to cry out in protest, Sylvanas’ tongue would heatedly whip into the mages mouth, feverishly taking in her taste and turning her cry into a muffled squeal.”
She’d then whip her head back down into the snow with a flick of her wriste, look of disgust upon her own face. “Far too sweet, what a horrible taste. Let’s see what happens when pain and desperation gets added to the batter.”
This time Sylvie would be the one to meet Jaina, trapping her between Dark Lady’s hungry kiss and the cold snow beneath her. As Sylvanas moved to deepen the kiss more, sliding her free hand behind the arch of the mage’s neck, her other hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger. In a moment, it’d be slammed into the meat of the mage’s thigh, making the human buck up and try to scream. Oh how this thrilled Sylvanas so, only taking it as Jaina’s ‘acceptance’ to the ranger’s advances.
Jaina would shake her head side to side, trying to scream and break free of that corruptive kiss as tears coursed down the crevice of her eyes. She did succeed a moment, only breaking free long enough to let out a howl of pain as the ranger twisted the gnarled dagger to the bone. “You sadistic bitch! Stop! Stop! Get off of me!”
The mage’s frantic screams were nothing but music to Sylvanas’ ears as she ripped the dagger out of the mage. “Pity Arthas has no plans for you to join his ranks… you’d make quite the banshee. Let’s see what other octaves you can reach.”
She would straighten up a bit, looking over the Jaina’s pathetic form beneath her. Thin cuts had laid most of her clothing to shreds, and her body oozed cuts all over body from her futile struggles. She decided she would help her new-found friend out, the dagger coming to her chest as she carefully slit the fabric off her body, taking care to reposition the line to give her free access to her chest without slicing the snare. The mage’s adrenaline had caused those pink living nipples to erect oh so perkily, making them impossible for the Banshee Queen to rest.
Her dark lips would come to one, rolling and twisting the warm flesh over the tips of her teeth while flicking at it with her tongue. She’d then take it in completely, suckling on the flesh while the dagger was brought into the other. She didn’t plunge it in entirely, rather, she’d drag the dagger on her perky living flesh, slitting the skin deep beneath the blade.
After several moments and a sundry of screams from her living-toy, she’d switch to the other breast. Her tongue would lap up the free-flowing blood on Jaina’s breast, her throat vibrating with a delicious ‘Mmmm~’ sound as her dagger sought to even out both sides on her human canvas to make them match. When she was done she’d sit up, her pink tongue taking a long lick to clean off her hunting knife.
Sylvanas could feel her yearning grow for the mage as she lay in a wrecked sight before her. Amidst her hysterical of pain she had wiggled oh so much. Her rosy, animated skin barely had a clean spot on it, the life giving warmth of blood had stained the blue garments that had remained tattered to her body and acted a coating paint throughout the rest. Her bloody body laying helplessly on the white snow was a sight Sylvanas would soon not forget.
Sylvie would motion carelessly towards the northern wall of her magic dampening prison as she started to rise. She’d brush some blood stained snow from her boots as she dismounted the mage and stood at her side. “I wonder, how much fight is left in you? How far are you willing to push yourself through the pain to survive? My guess is that right over there is the weakest part of this little energy field as that is where my banshee’s are spaced out the most.”
The Dark Lady would twirl the dagger in her hand a moment, before crouching to the mage. In a swift slash, another flesh wound would be released into the length of the mage’s ribs. Along with another lovely scream, the mage would curl up, sheltering and cradling the new wound beneath her arm. It only took a second for her to realize the slash had freed her fromSylvanas’ wire trap and she once again was able to move.
“Jaina~” Sylvie would say in a sing-songy voice as her eyes focused on the dagger she was cleaning off on fabric of her plated greaves. She would slowly turn her head back to the mage, tilting her head ever so slightly with that twistedly amused grin plastered on her face. “Shouldn’t you be running?”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds Jaina had managed get to a slumping stand. Her arms wrapped around her torso, trying to hold the shredded scrap of her skin in place as she willed herself to sprint. Her injured leg would slow her down, causing a limp and a drag as she tried to make it over shifted snow. Sylvanas, on the other hand, had straightened up. The crimson orbs of her eyes focused on Jaina like a cat on a mouse as she lazily brought her bow from off her back and began to take aim. “Too easy~”

** Next chapter/ Conclusion is now up. -J.O.C
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Mages and Martyrs