Bite the Hand That Feeds You

Cold mist swirled around his feet, freezing him to the bone. Like skeletal fingers it caressed his boots, as if lusting for his living flesh underneath. So warm. So alive. He felt as if the skeletal hands of mist were slowly pulling him lower. Not even the floor of solid stone under him could ever stop them.

Failure.

Kneeling before his Master, Shagrath felt his wicked might and malevolence focused on him. He could not look up, he could not breathe. The coldness was overwhelming, and the pain burned every word into Shagrath’s skull as if melt metal poured on his head. Just as was his Master’s will. He was to listen, not speak. He was to hear what was to become of him.

And to submit to it.

A voice arose, not carried by the damp air of the dark hall, but exploding inside Shagrath’s head with the sting of thousand spears. “Sinistershot has failed… He was not able to carry out my plan to shatter the alliance, so he must be replaced…” whispered the voice with the strength of a thunderstorm.

Shagrath fought to keep himself composed. He was shaking due to the the cold or the flow of mixed feelings that ran through him – he couldn’t be certain. He knew the truth. And it made him enraged and yet filled with bittersweet satisfaction at the same time. His Master was going to replace him… because he was afraid. Shagrath’s grip over the order had grown too firm. And he had planned to abandon his Master’s cause... But how could he have found out?!

Then another voice spoke, and Shagrath’s question was answered.
“I shall not fail you like he did, Master”, Melnerag Krastinov spoke from under his purple hood. Shagrath’s fists clenched as he recalled a conversation with Melnerag in Ironforge, briefly after his resurrection. He had questioned why Shagrath still followed the Dark Lord. Shagrath had tried to be careful, but Melnerag had guessed his plans.
“What do you plan to do with him, my Lord?” Melnerag inquired, and at least in Shagrath’s mind his voice was filled with joy.
“Dispose of him…” came the answer.
“I beg your pardon, but that might not be so wise”, Melnerag said with a soft voice. Shagrath tensed up and fought hard not to try and look up. Melnerag had got into Dark Lord’s favour only recently, and already he was questioning him. Shagrath felt the focus of his Master to loosen as it was directed on Melnerag instead.
“As I’ve told you, my Lord, Sinistershot has built a strong chain of commands within the order”, Melnerag continued confident.
“Just disposing of him might result into confusion and uncertainty. Some might refuse to follow anyone else but him… May I suggest we keep him around, he has after all proved to be an excellent commander of troops, as long as you don’t allow him to think too much…”
A silence followed. Shagrath almost grimaced realising that his betrayer might have just become his saviour. He did not know which fate he had preferred, death or owing Melnerag the Traitor his life.

“So be it…”

Melnerag nodded and took one step forward.
“You’ve been given another chance, Shagrath Sinistershot… another chance which you never gave anyone. Arise, my Dark General, and serve your new Darkmaster”, he spoke softly from under his hood with a gloating tone to his voice. Shagrath narrowed his eyes and fought to maintain his composition.
”Patience… you’ll have plenty of time to revenge now… Pride has never helped anyone, ignore it…” whispered a voice in the back of Shagrath’s head. Slowly, with a cracking sound from his armour, Shagrath rose to his feet. The mist around his legs moved restlessly, seeming disappointed that the warmth of a living grew more distant. Shagrath stared into the darkness of the new Darkmaster’s hood expressionless. Through Shagrath’s mind flashed numerous situations where he had had the chance to kill Melnerag the Gearholder, situations when he had considered doing it, and let him live.

He would not hesitate anymore.

“I shall not waste this second chance I’ve been given, Darkmaster”