Disclaimer: WoW owns the characters, the histories and the locations. Augenxauf owns Necrophilia. That's right, this is a fanfic based off a fanfic. Get over it.
A/N: You all should read augenxauf's Necrophilia. It's pretty amazing, even if it is on hiatus.
The Hunt for Jaqlyn
A Necrophilia Side Story
by J. Green
He watched from the top of the Northpass Tower as she trotted away on her black stallion. The fool was headed into Plaguewood on her own, looking for Jaqlyn. He knew he had made her upset, but this behavior was a little more than extreme. The chit was going to get herself killed!
He would give her some time, half an hour at most, before he came to her rescue. He was sure she could take care of herself that long. At least, he was fairly sure. When she stopped mere feet from the outskirts of the plagued area, he squinted and shaded his eyes from the orange-tinted sky, trying to get a better idea of what she could be doing.
It looked as though... no, that couldn't be right. Surely she wasn't talking to her horse? His fears were confirmed when she dismounted, stroked the neck of her black beast and turned it back towards Northpass sans its rider. She watched it a moment, as if to ensure that it would not follow her, before she stepped over the boundary at a run.
Vaschel cursed to himself before taking the stairs two at a time. It would've been easy to pick up on the heavy footprints of her horse, but on foot, she was light and would leave no obvious trail for him to follow. If she left the path, and he was sure she would, the stupid girl, he would have a hard time finding her. This would mess up his entire rescue operation. How could he get back into her good graces as the conquering hero if she got herself good and lost?
Her horse was galloping full speed towards the tower encampment by the time he had made it back into the open, apparently spooked by some of the local wildlife. He waited a moment, knowing full well how angry with him she would be if he didn't make sure her horse was cared for before he went after her. Thinking on it, it wouldn't surprise him if she had known he was there, and was using this as a ploy to get further away.
As the beast approached him at a run, he put his hand up and it immediately calmed, slowing to a slow trot just before it reached him. It was breathing heavily, its flank heaving and nostrils flaring. He smoothed a hand down its neck in much the same manner as its owner had done just moments ago. Tossing a few gold coins to a nearby Argent Sentry and giving him instructions on the proper care of the beast in front of him, he whistled for his own mount, hopping on the overly large kodo and immediately setting off at full speed.
He needed to catch up to Tearle before she got herself killed.
Once she was sure she was out of sight from Northpass Tower, she dropped the hem of her robes and slowed to a quick jog. Fortunately, she gave off an aura of power strong enough that most of the miserable undead she came across shied away from her superior skills. The few that were stupid enough to wander too close were easily handled with a quick, whispered Shadow Word: Death. She had yet to assume her shadowform, preferring to view the already muted area with clear eyes as long as she could.
She had barely passed the turnoff for Stratholme when she heard the thundering stomps of Vaschel's favorite kodo. She almost growled in frustration. She was close to the tower she was almost positive that witch Cevian had sent her after was in. He could've at least tried to let her do this on her own. So what if she had been captured by Jaqlyn before. She was more prepared this time. She wouldn't underestimate her again.
"Mr. Dauntlight," she said with as much steel as she could infuse into the words. Silence greeted her, but she refused to face him, continuing to walk towards the tower, her back straight and her head high. She heard him dismount and begin to follow a few steps behind her.
Once she crested the hill, she could see a tauren come to attention just within the tower's entrance. She almost scoffed. She could knife the bastard to death before he'd get a hit on her. What was Jaqlyn thinking, using someone who could barely hold his sword properly to guard her?
"Tearle," came the deep voice of the Blood Elf behind her.
"I have nothing to say to you." She turned her attention to the tauren in front of her, calling on her knowledge of Taur-ahe. "You there. Lay down your weapon and I'll let you live. I have no ill will against you."
"Blighthoofs never surrender!" came the gravely voice of the death knight. She tried hard not to roll her eyes. She was sure this tauren's surname was not originally Blighthoof. It was so... plague-like. Without another word, she called upon the shadows to surround her before assaulting the tauren's mind with shadow energy. He did not live long enough to scream.
"Tearle!" This time, his voice was sharper and punctuated with a firm grasp of her wrist. His heat permeated the coldness she always felt when she was in the shadows, but she still refused to look at him. "You cannot do this alone. You cannot do this without a plan. Jaqlyn is stronger than anything we have faced together."
"My decision has been made. You can either come with me now, or leave me to my own devices. I won't wait any longer. I would've been here days ago if you hadn't insisted on so many stops." She turned her head so that he had a view of her profile as she finished with, "But then, I guess you had your reasons."
He was unsure of what to say to her as she pulled her arm from his grip. To explain now would be meaningless; she was in no state of mind to listen. He held his hand to his chest, attempting to regain the warmth it had held before touching her.
When he said nothing more, she began to move into the plaguetower once again, stepping lightly over the body of the tauren that had called himself Blighthoof. Vaschel said a silent prayer to the Earthmother for the lost soul, hoping that he had finally found the peace snatched from him by the Lich King.
When the sounds of a magical battle could be heard from within the tower, he knew he could hesitate no longer. Gripping his axe and pulling his shield from his back, he made his way towards the impossibly aggravating human and the necromancer determined to kill her. When he came across Cevian again, he wasn't sure if he would shake his hand for throwing Tearle in his path, or strangle the life from his body for putting someone like her in danger. But one thing was for certain: he would make sure Tearle walked away from this fight if he had to take down the Lich King himself to do it.