[OOC: Solution, magical bomb. Will incorporate it in the upcoming major update.]
Parisot de Bracy was not a typical man in Javali's eyes. His regalia were the black colours of Gilneas, colours and uniform which were rarely seen outside of this man's homeland. His ebon hair, moustache and beard trailed down his face, framing a suspicious, narrowed set of green eyes. Chewing the corner of his lip as in consideration, Parisot tipped his small hat to Javali. "Captain de Bracy, at your service. I am here on behalf of General Mordred Baldanes."
Javali sighed and went through the usual procedure of formalities, before being able to strike at the point, and strike at the point he did. "What do you want, Captain?"
Parisot cleared his throat. "The civil war in my kingdom is over. King and country are united once more. Indeed, King Viktor Greymane will be attending the summit at Fenris." Clapping his hands with glee, Javali's sleepless nights transformed into cynicism. "How delightful!"
"Let me make myself clear, Dictator." Parisot let on. "I represent General Mordred, not the puppet King. Mordred's Azure Church has grasped the kingdom, and it has sent me here to negotiate a treaty in the face of uncertain times."
Javali was glad to finally hear something relevant to his interests. "Go on, de Bracy."
"For generations now, since the Azure Schism, Azure Church and the order of Hareveim have been separated by disagreements over the... economy of our religion. With Mordred as head of the division in Gilneas, and your Archareveim Zinizar in command of the other."
Javali applauded once more. "This is most interesting for I did not know of this before, de Bracy. Truly, your knowledge astounds me."
His expression darkening somewhat, de Bracy continued. "Mordred is willing to negotiate with both Zinizar and with you; in terms of reunion and in terms of an alliance. Gilneas makes no secret that it wants to regain some of its ancient lands in Silverpine. It has forts there of Gilnean design and citizens of Gilnean blood. We know that Dalaran's influence spreads far, and if you can promise us but a small portion of your western frontier; well. Then we stand together."
It was time to negotiate and haggle, it seemed.
Lethon nodded his heavy head, emerald eyes focusing on Jin'thek as if to tear him to pieces with but a gaze. "I still see no link between the Prophet's attack here today, and this Hakkar you speak of. Nor have you proved that your lieutenant is Hakkari." "This is true." Jin'thek admitted. "Nonetheless..." The dragon grunted. "Climb atop my back." as he started to shapeshift back into his draconic form. "We will fly to the Hinterlands. To your Jintha'alor. If you waste my time, I will kill you."
Then Jin'thek turned to Fenthelan again. "I will not forget what you have done for me, elf." Fenthelan managed a smile in return.
Jin'thek had one last thing to settle. His bodyguards looked up to him, saluting him. "What you want us to do, mon?" one of them asked. Jin'thek saluted them back. "You find Gruc'jen and Nuvazgal. Tell them of what transpired here. We will meet again soon my warriors!"
Then Jin'thek climbed atop Lethon, waved farewell to his trolls and the druids, and was off. Left in the glade to their own devices, the trolls and elves glared at one another. The elf who had led the humans into Caer Darrow, the ranger known as Saldor, boasted a pained expression. "I didn't recognize Amron Radiun Malad. I'm sorry, Fenthelan."
That was the last thing Jin'thek heard, before Lethon's wings took them far away.
At least now, the curse was more contained and had slowed down. Jin'thek had more time.
It was many hours, but atop a dragon they made fast progress. Beneath them, the mountains bordering Strattania spread out, covered in forests unlike any in Zul'Aman. Using his stone, Jin'thek linked up with Exhel, and motioned for Lethon to land in a nearby clearing. Surely enough, the shadow hunter leader jumped down from the trees to meet them.
Meanwhile, in the Amani Catacombs of southern Quel'Thalas, Ha'lin and his tribesmen had been long in preparing for what was to come. Returning from a hunt for food, Ha'lin and his trolls carried a deer carcass uphill towards the entrance of the Catacombs. Suddenly, an arrow whistled through the air, tearing into the neck of one of Ha'lin's guards. The troll toppled lifelessly to the ground. The party swung around, to see a dozen elven archers forming a line atop a hill overlooking the Catacombs. While the hill was certainly not higher than the mountain that the Catacombs were contained in, the hill overlooked the entrance.
Diving for cover, Ha'lin and his trolls prepared themselves. "Mon, they got too good a position!" one of the guards growled to Ha'lin. "We should hold up in da Catacombs! If 'dey try to follow us in, they're doomed." Ha'lin nodded. "Aye, mon. But if dey get away, they might bring more elves with 'em." Another one of the trolls grunted, and pointed. "They might already know we here, mon. That's a whole cadre that followed us. We stand a better chance on the defensive! If we charge now they might be waiting in ambush! We should send a messenger to Nuvazgal to get help!"
Ha'lin cursed. The time was not yet right for the attack, but it seemed they were running out of choices.
Adaen Melrache woke with eyes blackened from exhaustion and worry. Nonetheless, he had put little stock in the certain lies of Kariel Winthalus. The elf had mostly tried to turn the interrogation against Adaen, but had failed in some aspects.
Reporting to his King, Adaen bowed. He had taken his liege aside in a more quiet room, for reporting information from an interrogation was not fitting for the throne room and all of its public ears and spies. "My lord." Adaen mumbled. Alford patted Adaen on the shoulder, proud of all that his Witch Hunter Commander had accomplished. "What have you to report?"
"My liege, Kariel blasphemed for the most part, but he did eventually send me away with this much; Quel'Thalas is on the verge of civil war. Sunstrider dynasty stands opposed to a pagan cult known as the Benefactors. These Benefactors are allied with Dalaran; theirs is a powerful network. It is said they take orders from a higher authority in their infernal hierarchy."
This was troubling news. "Anything else, Adaen?" "I have word from Thomassy that Ambermill has fallen. The Perinany Legion of old stands against the usurper, but Grigori Dosantos is on his way to the capital. Shall I send a Witch Hunter escort?"
Adaen struggled with himself, considering telling Alford of what Kariel had told him regarding his sins. "Liege- I.." but Adaen relented. "I would like to travel to the Church of the Holy Light itself in the north. My campaigns have worn me down and I would like but a day or two to clear my mind."