Bittersweet Company
Kel'Thuzad grumbled to himself aboard Naxxramas.
While he enjoyed working with minds that actually knew what they were doing when it came to necromancy, his colleagues were not the most... talkative.
Nearby, Balzaphon poured through every magical tome and scroll at their disposal, attempting to find something... anything that could give their forces an edge on an Equestrian battlefield.
The newer lich was definitely the least talkative of all his brethren, and was more of a scholar and researcher than spellcaster. While his findings and experiments on soul propulsion and stabilization were instrumental in keeping Naxxramas in the air, his company left much to be desired.
Now that the liches of the Scourge were freed of their... monotonous demeanor, they effectively were restored to their former selves and personalities.
This, however, brought out their flaws, as well.
For example, Balzaphon was quite easily absorbed into his work. This helped with productivity, but eliminated any chance for the two to really... coordinate. Connect.
The smaller lich across the room was perhaps the only being he could think of in his entire existence that possibly trumped his love of reading.
Well, besides Twilight.
Maybe.
Maybe...
.........
Maybe...
Not having to sleep, eat or drink gave Balzaphon a distinct advantage, after all...
They each droned on in their work, the younger lich across the room muttering under his frosted breath as he scanned a page with a single finger.
With a sideways glance, the archlich realized he was reading an aged tome on crystal magics.
Kel'Thuzad sighed, closing his tome with a satisfying 'wump'.
Balzaphon didn't even flinch.
As the archlich floated out of the small chamber off of the Construct Quarter's main floor, he wondered how Titus and Anub'arak were dealing with their old colleagues...
.........
Zarod cackled to himself as the arcane roared through his skeletal body once more, a simple incantation bestowing false life upon the relatively undamaged equine corpse before him, the newly arisen soldier bowing before the lich in subservience.
"Report to Lord Rivendare for outfitting, minion." the master summoner commanded, a single bony finger pointing towards the death knight, who was currently drilling several newly arisen initiates, their prowess in battle showing promise.
Out of the corner of his glowing blue eye, the lich spotted the only living thing in the camp scurrying back to her tent, a loaf of bread in her makeshift cloth saddlebag.
Zarod bit back an insult at the mare’s cowardly behavior.
He had learned his mistake the first time...
His king had made it EXCESSIVELY clear that should any harm come to her, the perpetrator will answer directly to him.
He had no idea what his master had seen in the stupid girl, but all that he saw was weakness and fear...
A lancing pain shot down his spine, darkness seeping into his vision as he doubled over from the unfamiliar sensation.
'Think all you want, master summoner...'
'Just remember what it means to act...'
Zarod croaked, his hands clenching the packed snow before him in pain, the overwhelmingly apparent presence of his king roaring through his mind.
"Y-yes... m-m-master..."
"F-forgive my lack of v-vision..."
'Sniveling will not save you from me, Zarod.'
'Your emotions were a gift...'
'Do not make me rip them from you again...'
With that, the lich was released from his master's hold, the necromancer gasping as he rose to his full height once more. Nearby, a few death knight initiates snickered at Zarod's misfortune, their forms lazily lounging on some barrels of iron ore.
Zarod growled, a frostbolt exploding from his palm to impact the ice and snow before the soldiers, their snickering dying down quickly as they cowered before the lich, shards of ice and snow raining down on them.
"Get back to your training, mongrels!"
With a stiff salute, the death knight initiates galloped back to Baron Rivendare, the stallion obviously displeased with their actions.
With a growl, the lich retrieved a large, half-frozen mass of flesh and bone from a nearby meat wagon's collection bin.
Abominations were always his favorite construct to create.
The abomination was like a canvas, capable of becoming anything that the necromancer could think of.
Whether it be a gargantuan, stinking machine of destruction, or a small, compact killing machine, abominations were open ended...
With an arcane-amplified chuckle that shook the encampment around him, Zarod began to rip and meld the pile of flesh into the form of a monster...
.........
"Have you located the next crypt yet, lich?" Anub'arak passively asked, pouring over the tattered map before him.
Amnennar growled, his attempts at scrying once again interrupted by the nerubian-turned-changeling. Biting back an insult, the lich swallowed his pride, getting punished by his king not high on his list of priorities.
"I'm trying, my lord. The crystal around us reflects magic back towards me..." Amnennar cancels his channeling for the moment, his gaze turning to the shapeshifting monarch. "Every time I attempt to renew my scrying spell, I am blinded by arcane feedback."
Anub'arak nodded, a disappointed, but understanding frown adorning the changeling's muzzle. As he turned to survey the large cavern their excavation was taking place in, another rumble shook the cavern.
With a deafening roar of crystals grinding together, the left part of the cave collapsed, the only thing saving the king and lich from utter annihilation being the quick thinking of Amnennar, the skilled cryomancer freezing the ceiling above them.
“Gods damn it!” Anub’arak roared, his gravely voice roaring over his surviving soldiers and workers. All the while, Amnennar pulled every speck of magic at his disposal into his spell, attempting to solidify and fortify the ceiling further.
“Captain, report!” Anub’arak demanded to a particularly large changeling, whom had just bolted into the room, parts of his chitin torn and missing.
“My king, our forces are under attack in the central corridor!” the changeling soldier choked out, his green blood pouring from his wounds.
“By who?!” Anub’arak questioned, looking down the darkened, crudely dug hallway.
“I... I don’t know, my king!” the changeling grunted, his form slumping tiredly against a crystal formation nearby.
“They... they came alive!”
.........
“WHAT?!”
A guttural growl echoed down the corridor, causing even the hardened changeling king to shiver lightly, the shrill voice echoing off of the crystal walls.
”UNSLAAD KROSIS!”
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So... is this now a triple Crossover, or are you just using dragur in their more mythological ways, not exactly skyrim.
8994902
No, purely mythological.
Well, the language, too. Can’t really beat the Dragon Language when it comes to intimidation. Especially when it’s gurgled out of a millennia-old, desiccated throat.
Warcraft actually has draugr, too. They were the Vrykul deemed ‘Unworthy’ to fight for the Lich King in their trials in Jotenheim. They were raised into a sort of Draugr, called Vargul.
So, even though they were found lacking, they served.
In one way or the other...
Hey, I have a question. Are all of the Changelings in your story working with the Lich King? If you are interested I have a Changeling hive called the Shadow Hive Kingdom. PM me if you want to know more about my hive.
8994953
The only hive that is currently working with the Lich King is Chrysalis’ and Anub’arak’s.
The rest of them... well...
Let’s just say the War of the Spider might be doomed to repeat itself, as well.
8994925
8995068
Points if you know what Unslaad Krosis means...
8994976
OK, well my hive could be very useful because of their shadow forms and that the Hive Kingdom owns most of the emerald mines throughout the MLP world, even those owned by the different nations of the world. The Hive Kingdom is made up of not only the Shadowlings themselves but also the non-Changeling settlements, and their population, that each mine is part of that is the Hive Kingdom as a whole.
8995076
It roughly translates to "Unending Sorrow."
8996676
Very good! You get a virtual cookie.
8997078
Awesome, I love cookies.
9003053
Wrong type of Draugr.
These are mythological Draugr, who are vengeful reanimated corpses that were either wronged in life, or were not buried using proper rights, or not buried at all.
They are essentially the Old Norse form of a traditional Revenant; whom is a vengeful spirit that is animated by its will to get revenge on those who wronged it in life.
I used the Dragon Language for their speech because it fits with their location, and the fact that there is little more intimidating than hearing Dovahzul roared from a dessicated, undead monstrosity.
9003139
Oh, I’m quite aware of my ‘fellow’ dragon priest’s history...
9003598
No problem at all.
I enjoyed the trip down memory lane.
9003620
Is this story dead? If so I'm sad its really good.
9075531
Far from dead, actually.
I just have a terrible time getting words on paper.
9075546
Ah, I get ya
I've been having writer's block on my own story as well so I understand how much it can suck. I tend to just use my imagine how things are working out as I write, it really helps me alot.