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This story is No. 2 in the series "Misprints and Misunderstanding". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: When Xander's headaches turn out to be something less than mundane, the dynamics of the Scoobies shift. New friends and a new prophecy keep things interesting. Oz/Xander pairing, Spike/OC, Greg/OC. Buffy bashing included THIS IS ABANDONED

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Xander-Centered > Pairing: Other Slash
Multiple Crossings > Spike-Centered
slytherinwithwingsFR183443,24417270183,30912 Jul 078 Apr 09No

25. In Which There is a Foul Plot Afoot

AN: Okay, I'm introducing a new fandom, and therefore must renew my disclaimer. I, SlytherinWithWings, do not own any of the mutated elves that I am introducing and shamelessly using in this chapter. They are the property of Blizzard Entertainment. Thank you and good day.

Chapter 25. In Which There is a Foul Plot Afoot

On a hill overlooking the small town, a small portal rent the sky, making way for three figures. One was grumbling as soon as the portal closed behind them.

“Agitating way to travel.”

The speaker was a nine-foot satyr with massive horns and onyx and ruby eyes. His clawed hands, hoofed feet and rustic fur easily defined his race. His dark, hairy form, large though it was, was dwarfed by one of his companions.

“When you find a better way to travel between worlds, Xavius, we’ll use it. Until then, stop complaining.”

Xavius sneered but did as he was told. He was a powerful being, but the speaker was by far stronger. That and he owed Illidan. Illidan stood at thirteen feet, fourteen if you added the hight of his curved horns. His long, dark-brown hair was untidy, forever falling out of the tie that held most of it back off of his face and long pointed ears. His hands and feet were clawed and his body, heavily muscled and covered with glowing arcane markings. A strip of cloth covered his eyes, but their green glow shown through. From his back sprouted enormous demonic wings. The shortest of the group ignored them both.

“I find it pleasing that our target is so near the sea. It will be easier for me to draw strength and allies,” she said. “I will be able to call upon my true form.”

Her taller companions seemed to ignore her, but Xavius glanced at her from the corner of the magical jewels that were his eyes. Azshara was beautiful if one gazed only on her face. She held the ethereal perfect of her former elfin self there alone. There the resemblance ended. Her once glistening black tresses were writhing, hissing, probably poisonous serpents. Her body was covered with fish-like scales and her shapely legs were long since replaced by five powerful octopus-like tentacle. Her “true form” as she called it, was much the same, just 20 feet-long from head to the tip of her tentacles.

At first glance, it was impossible to tell that the three once shared a common race. Formerly of the deeply spiritual and noble race of Night Elves, each had been twisted to madness by the demons that invaded their home. As a result, each had sought more and more power, turning on their own people as well as the demons that first corrupted them. Illidan, being the last to find banishment at the hands of his own brother, searched for the other two so as to add their power to his own. Freeing them from their ancient confinements, they agreed to follow him, but each knew that the others’ ultimate allegiance was to themselves. They did, however, have a common enemy. Illidan, having the most ties to his previous life (and perhaps the strongest grip on his sanity) refused to help the others attack the Night Elf race, but the demons…they were fair game.

“So, the Power is here?” Xavius asked, growing tired of the other two’s contemplative silence.

“Yes,” Illidan answered. “We’ll find it in the two that share a soul. If we catch them off-guard, this should be easy. We’ll take that power, and make this whole world our new army. And when we are ready, the legion will fall.”

“It may take centuries,” Xavius reminded him.

“We have the time,” Illidan replied negligently. As immortals, time was all they had.

To him it was that simple.

“We should not be seen until we are ready,” Azshara added. “We are not yet powerful in this world. I will take to the sea. Such lovely darkness here. It need not take long to gather our strength.”

“Agreed. Xavius, how would you like the forests?”

The Satyr grinned. “Soon, I’ll make them livable for the dark.”

“I will go between the forest and the city. I sense demons everywhere. It should be easy to clear out a space for myself. Perhaps even gather followers,” the demon-hybrid mused.

Azshara laughed madly, but musically. “Followers! They will see our power and throw themselves at our feet!”

The others smiled at her. This was a sentiment they could not help but share. Xavius, Lord of the Satyrs, sprinted into the trees, Azshara, Queen of the Naga, slithered toward the waves of the ocean, and Illidan, The Betrayer, took to the skies of Sunnydale.

AN: Hi, me again. You like my bad guys? Many of you may not know them. They are from the Warcraft games, novels, and whatnot. If you want to know about their backgrounds, abilities, looks etc.. go to I'm taking some liberties with them and their time-line. I'm setting their time right after Warcraft III. So, no Lord of Outland for Illidan. He's trying for Lord of Earth instead. Hey, at least our planet isn't broken.

ps. thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you to those that nominated me and voted for me. i love you all. no really. i do.
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