"Brothers and sisters, I have been to the Promised land", he called to the gathered Sindorei. They all listened raptly to his words on the land of milk and honey. The desolate and forboding landscape of demons, towering Reavers, and fire gysers that surrounded the Thrallmar outpost was forgotten for a time as he promised them bliss. The picture he painted to his audience was a pretty one. "sublime" and "engrossing", indeed. The Netherstorm.... If these seeking souls made the journey from Helfire, through the Marsh, along the Bladed Mountains, the Netherstorm would seem like bliss.

The magic of that area was abundant, but not infinate. It coursed through your veins like a well known lover, but it drew all manner of other creatures that feed on the stuff. It sustained life, but it was being ripped from the fabric of the Nether through the Manaforges, draining the fractured landscape and funneling it through the miles and miles of pipeline, all leading to the Tempest Keep.

There, it powered all manner of things. It wafted through the rooms of the Draenic ships and burrowed into everything. It powered the great hulking machine and the myraid of automata that patrolled and served the Sindorei. It seeped into your skin and thrummed in your brain like lightning shooting through clouds.

It was addiction, far worse than that which suffered the Sindorei still in the Silver City. Her hands twitched on the pommel of the saddle at the memory of it, the craving that still sat in the pit of her stomach and repeaked with every return trip to the Keep.

"My lady?" Drazz gently questioned as he approached her, patting his hawkstrider gently on the neck as he drew up next to her. Schooling her expression back to it's usual passive, but gentle way, she turned away from the pilgrims to smile at Drazz.

"You had an errand for the Goblin with the ruined zepplin, yes? Let's be on our way." She nudged her talbuk on without waiting for his answer, eager to put some distance between herself those poor fools.

--fic notes here