[Private SRP] Fall of the Light, Rise of the Shadow

[Nonfictionless]

(( This is a private RP between myself and Syn ))

Bishop Carl Windsor arranged a few of his books on his small desk and put a few darker looking ones in a chest off to the side. It was much less than when he was working at the Church in Stormwind, but he recently felt the Light pull him strongly towards the Plaugelands. He had never been one to ignore such a calling and so he came to help the masses in Andorhal. Much had changed in the recent years and it was once again becoming a strong Alliance city and soon will once again be in complete control of the crown. The sun had just risen, today he was heading out to the Felstone Feilds to heal some of the labors that could not make the short trip to the city. He dawned his glorious white and gold robes along with a short cap, and identifying him as a Bishop of the Church of the Holy Light. Lastly he grabbed his wooden staff adorned with cross inside of a circle on top, not as elegant as his robes but well cared for.


He walked outside of the Inn and met his guard captain with a short greeting and nodded to the four other guards accompanying him. He didn't like that he was required to travel with a guard, as the Plaguelands were relatively safe and he didn't reach the rank of Bishop by being completely inept. However they started on their short walk to the farm and arrived in about an hour. The rest of the day was spent healing broken bones, a few diseases and some scrapes and cuts. He worked hard on each wound no matter the severity. The whole while none of his guards slacked off. Carl knew of course that this was the most exposed farm and very close to the Forsaken held forest and their small holdings near the city, but even still they had been quite tame in allowing the Alliance to reclaim most of these lands. Perhaps they understand that their Shadow could not cleanse the blight of the Plauge as only the Light could.

Meanwhile in Stormwind a wary Paladin arrived at the Church. Aland rested just inside the chapel. His last journey had been tiring and even more so having to deal with those, death knights. His party had gotten out fine but none the less it was a trying experience. A few hours past and still Carl had not shown up. Carl usually had one of his students keep watch for Aland and so he stopped one he recognized. "Boy, where is Bishop Windsor?" A young priest jumped a bit at the sight of Aland. "Oh, Aland, sir. I am sorry but Bishop Windsor has left for the Plaguelands, a few days ago in fact." Aland was startled Carl was not the best fighter and he goes off to the Plaguelands? He scoffed angrily and the young priest noticably shook out of fear. "Why in the Light would he do that." Aland stood quickly and grabbed his demonic great-sword. "I....sorry...sir.....he just said the Light pulled him there...." Aland left him without another word. Damn fool... He didn't want to admit it but Carl had become something like a brother to him. He couldn't let Carl be somewhere so dangerous without him. He ran to the Gryphon Roost and grabbed the same Church Gryphon he had last time. It seemed the only one willing to take him as it were. He flew with haste to Andorhol.


(( Feel free to make the attack however you wish. Expect a fight from Carl and his guards though. ^.^ ))

[Synaxis]

"The Alliance is still pushing here, ma'am," the courier said quietly. "They're re-settled parts of Andorhal and are still trying to reclaim the farmland nearby.. I found a missive here, they seem to still believe victory is possible."

"Andorhal? Really?" drawled the death knight, looking out from the top of one of the Bulwark's watch towers toward the city. "What have our people been doing over there, sleeping? We drove the humans out and now they're back? Incompetent, inept, utterly useless fools.. No matter. This can be corrected."

Irritably turning away from the Plaguelands, Noxvari went to the staircase inside the watchtower and descended to the base of it, where a number of alert soldiers were standing, apparently awaiting orders. Around the camp were similar groups of these - it was not an enormous batallion by any means, but a large enough crew to pose a threat to lone priests with a small flank of guards. Upon seeing her, those at the furthest edges of the camp stood and hurried over, clearly awaiting orders. She did not address them. Instead, she casually strolled over to a roll of parchment and a quill, dipped the quill in ink, and scrawled a quick letter in Thalassian. With barely a chance for the ink to dry, she rolled up the letter and stamped it closed, then thrust it in the courier's hands. "To the Dark Lady. Don't come back without a val'kyr or two," she muttered to him before giving him a slight push toward his horse. He did not question the order. He got right up on his skeletal mount and set off to the southwest, toward the city.

"Mounts," Noxvari called sharply. "We are leaving now."

The Bulwark immediately sprung to life, so to speak, with soldiers unhitching their horses, mounting them, and lining up in perfect coordination. Two dozen or so in all, with Noxvari sitting astride her Valor at their head. In only a couple minutes they were all ready to go, so the death knight turned and lead them out of the Bulwark and into the plaguelands. She did not intend on going straight to Andorhal, not with numbers like this - she did not know how many the Alliance had at their disposal. For the moment she simply wanted to have a word with the idiots in charge of the Forsaken in Andorhal. That plan was quickly shelved, however, when she saw the working farm just to the north through the trees - Felstone Field. The Forsaken did not need the farms in the Plaguelands; zombies have no need to eat to sustain themselves, so farmland is not really a priority to them.. but depriving the Alliance miscreants of a source of food was a clever thing to do. The farm was a soft target. If there was a large number of soldiers hiding out there, she'd be able to see it - there were only a couple small buildings, most of the activity was going on in the open.

So that's where she went.

Immediately, chaos. The Forsaken soldiers with her knew the routine well: leave no survivors. Immediately upon arriving at the farm, they dismounted and drew their weapons to turn them on the freshly-healed farmers.. civilians with only brief militia experience, if that. Soft targets. Noxvari did not waste her own time on them. She instead walked to the farmhouse with a handful of her comrades to see if there was somebody of importance worth slaughtering inside. "Helloooo," she called tauntingly in the common tongue, "Anybody home?"

[Nonfictionless]

Farmer picked up shovels and pitchforks and tried to fight back, but to no avail. They were slaughtered without mercy. A lone death-knight walked into the farmhouse and greeted no one in particular. Carl's guard already had their swords, hammers, and shields at the ready. Carl clasped his staff tightly and began to summon the Light. "There is no one for you here Forsaken. Begone from this place now." A few of the guards were eager to attack but they knew the people here were already done for, they had to protect their Bishop.

[Synaxis]

A sharp whistle brought that handful of soldiers to her side in an instant. "Get the guards," she muttered to them in their own shared tongue, "I will take care of the priest." The Forsaken obeyed without question. The immediately charged the humans, their own swords and hammers and shields drawn and held out to do damage. Not a single one of them went for the priest: they left him for their commander to deal with. "Why, human? Because you say so? I thought we made it abundantly clear your kind were not welcome here," she taunted.

Rather than charge him with her axe drawn, Noxvari casually grabbed her bow and one arrow from the quiver that nearly always sat on her back. It was an uncommon fixture for a plate-wearing death knight, but she saw no reason to abandon a useful weapon simply to fit into a stereotype. If she'd charged Carl, she might have been able to interrupt his summoning of the light, but her habit of underestimating her foes led her to completely ignore the incoming attack. She'd been smitten by the Light countless times. What's one more going to do?

The bow was raised, aimed, and fired in a matter of mere moments, on course straight to Carl. The head of the arrow glowed ominously with some brand of dark magic that no doubt meant bad news for anyone it hit..

[Nonfictionless]

The Forsaken soldiers and Church guards clashed inside the farmhouse. Each using their own style of fighting but slowly the guards, even with the Light by their sides and lit upon their weapons were obvious outmatched and outnumbered. "The dead have no say in how the living conduct their affairs." He waved his staff in front of him before the arrow Noxvari fired left her bow but the effect was obvious as the arrow shattered mid air from where his staff had just past, a glimmer of Light shown and faded as it did. However something Carl had not anticipated happened, his staff shattered. He shook slightly, more from shock than actual pain. "So Noxvari, we meet at last. This is too bad for you." He started whispering and the Light flowed freely from him. Even though the dead could not hear his words the effect was obvious as his guards started to smile and fight harder. Bolts of light formed in his hands as he threw them towards Noxvari.

[Synaxis]

"A bold statement," she drawled, showing no concern at the shattering of the arrow midair nor the shattering of the priest's staff. He was still an unworthy opponent. "Incorrect, though. Hard to tell if you are blinded by arrogance or just too thick-skulled to see you're fighting a losing battle."

She stowed the bow away and turned to her axe, holding it at the ready for an attack but not making any effort to rush to make one. She did, however, begin to approach Carl in a measured, purposeful way. "Oh, very nice," she commented, flashing a grin from under her hood. "You know my name. I've never seen you before. Good to know your people loathe me enough to trade stories about me. Shame they didn't bother trying to correct your arrogance. What makes you think you can actually win?" The death knight let out a sharp laugh and swept one hand suddenly in front of her. The ground beneath her feet began to practically boil and bleed a grotesque blood red plasma-like substance, halfway between liquid and gas, and purely magical.. It rose from the cracks in the floorboards and sought out the feet and ankles of the holy guards but left the Forsaken soldiers alone. Any spilled blood was immediately sucked into the magic and used to fuel it further, allowing it to creep up on the humans, seep into the cracks of their armor, find the pores in their clothing and then their skin below.. The magic actively sought out their blood stream and tried to force its way in; if successful, the result would be a highly uncomfortable burning sensation in the veins of the living. Not fatal by any means, but definitely a pain in the ass.

At the same time, a somewhat holographic shell formed around Noxvari to protect her from the first round of holy attacks the priest rained upon her. The shell absorbed the first few bolts completely but weakened over time until it broke. Noxvari didn't bother putting the barrier back up; she was close enough now that she could leap and strike at Carl, so she did: she lunged at him and brought the axe down toward the man's, snuffing out one of the glowing runes along the blade of it as she did so. The edge of the axe lit up with a necrotic, greenish-black, diseased magic that dripped in a nearly liquid way..

[Nonfictionless]

"Oh unfortunately I know I can't but I am not afraid of death. I go to it knowing that you will meet yours soon enough." Truthfully Carl was not afraid of dying. He was only afraid for those he left behind, mainly Aland as he had no other family left. He would no longer be there to keep Aland from destroying himself and he regretted this more than anything. He felt the creeping poison coming from the ground before he saw it and started whispering a prayer, "Light guide my hands and protect this ground, your knights need protection from the plagues of the Shadow." He twisted his hands around in a circular fashion as the light formed on his finger tips. Holy circles of protection formed around all his guards and himself but two were unlucky and were already infected by the poison. They started to stagger and tried to cleanse themselves but soon were cut down by the horde of Forsaken attacking. Distracted by the poison he only listened to Noxvari and stumbled back as she leapt at him. He grasped at a necklace hidden beneath his robes and pleaded with the Light to grant him this final act in life. Not even the Light could turn the scales to allow him to live but just maybe allow him to save the last of his men. A blinding light radiated from the center of his being, intending to throw all evil creatures back.

[Synaxis]

Not afraid of dying...? She loved when they said that. It was the ones who were not afraid of dying that she enjoyed reanimating more than most others, for the sheer irony in it. That had been her situation - she walked right into her death willingly and here she was, dishing it out to others. She did not bother replying with words but let out a cold, foreboding laugh and advanced further. Carl's last-ditch effort to protect his own resulted in a definite reaction from all of the Forsaken, including Noxvari, who staggered back a step or two and was momentarily blinded by the Light. its effect was more internal than external for her; she was afflicted by a splitting headache that made opening her eyes almost impossibly for a couple seconds. The other Forsaken had it tougher, though; a couple of them were genuinely knocked flat by the blast, others simply pushed back against tables, shelves, chairs, whatever happened to be in the way.. The room itself was damaged but not irreparably, there was no danger of the whole place coming down, but a fight definitely went on in there.

The headache from the blast throbbed rather painfully and the only thing she knew to do to end it was to simply kill Carl, so she lunged at him again, this time making an active effort to finish him off with a sharp blow to the chest. If she connected as she planned, the axe blade would lodge itself firmly in the priest's front, cracking his sternum and ribs and no doubt killing him instantly or close to it. The headache lifted quickly after this, but Nox did not rest on her laurels then, not while there were other guards still alive. Though the Forsaken soldiers in the farmhouse with her were back on their feet and rejoining the battle, Noxvari herself also turned on the guards and made to dispatch of at least one of them - a violent swing was made and if it didn't kill him off she dropped it and turned to Carl.

One hand rested on the man's bloody chest and a stream of necrotic energy transferred from her to him, seeping throughout his body, to his limbs and organs and everything in between. The magic would definitely speed up the process of making Carl look dead, for sure, without totally decomposing him. The magic filled up the body and with a little effort on Nox's part, the priest was reanimated, his soul contained and repressed beneath the power of Nox's will. "Not afraid of dying," she muttered with a sneer, straightening up.

[Nonfictionless]

"Run!" was all he could muster as his last words. A crack was all he heard as the world went silent and dark. Carl was dead and yet he was still there. Only the briefest of moments did he have in this place of non-existence and yet he was okay with that. None of the fighting concerned him as his spirit walked to the door of the farmhouse. He was sad, only for a moment, as another joined him and then happy that he was not alone. The world just beyond the glass seemed much better than the world he left behind even though it appeared the same. A light filled the cloudless sky. Just as Carl reached for the door knob a shadow wrapped around his hand. Now only one emotion filled him, fear. He struggled and reached for the door with his free hand and again the shadow consumed it. The knight to his left past him without a glance back and disappeared into the Light. He tried to scream but no voice came as the shadow gathered around him completely and yanked him back to his body.

He coughed and retched as undead overtook him. He felt an angry presence overbearing his mind as he struggled to remember words. "What....what is happening...?" The last of the guard's ran in fear from the farmhouse, only to meet the rest of the Forsaken outside in the fields and his death.

[Synaxis]

"You serve Sylvanas now," Noxvari said flatly. There was no room for debate. It was clear by her tone of voice that she was not giving him a suggestion, but an order. "Get up. We are leaving."

And that was that. The death knight swept to the door, leaving a handful of Forsaken soldiers alone with Carl. Once she was out of the room, they moved in and grabbed him, pushing and pulling on his body to try to force him onto his feet. Outside, Nox gestured to one of the Forsaken men standing over the body of the guard that almost got away. "Get an extra horse from the barn over there," She said, nodding to the barn nearby. "Actually, get all the horses out of that barn. We can use them. You two, light it up." With a nod to another pair of soldiers, that pair and the first ran over to the barn. A simple gesture caused the rest of the Forsaken to go back to their own mounts. They did, got on, and lined up in formation again, ready to head to Andorhal when the order was given.

A quick headcount of those outside and those inside revealed to Noxvari that of the two dozen soldiers she'd brought along, only a couple had died, and they were the ones on the inside of the farmhouse that had been fighting the actual guards. A small loss. No big deal.

The three soldiers that had gone to the barn returned with six horses, including a big-boned gray mare heavy in foal and a yearling colt that looked to be her son. They would be a hindrance for now, but resources were resources, and though the living horses' stamina did not compare to the undead mounts utilized by the Forsaken, they could easily be converted. The barn was successfully torched and the fire was beginning to spread quickly. "Do the house, too," Nox added to the incoming soldiers as an afterthought, and those soldiers handed the horses off to the mounted undead. They rushed to the farmhouse and proceeded to light it up, too, but only once there was nobody left inside.

A tacked undead horse was held outside the farmhouse. Having belonged to one of the two fallen Forsaken, it was now there for Carl to ride on the way to the Forsaken-settled Andorhal, something reinforced by a cold, "On the horse," said mentally by Nox to Carl.

[Nonfictionless]

Sylvanas the named echo'd in his mind as he tried to place it. A queen...my queen? He rose to his feet a followed Noxvari. What was my name....Aland? No that isn't right. That is a friend....who.....Carl....yes that sounds right. He looked briefly around and felt sorry for those who were not moving, undead and human alike. Then he noticed a broken staff and felt nothing for it. It seemed important once but no longer. As the Forsaken went about their duties he looked himself over. Rotten a bit but he seemed fine. Much more so than others he had seen before. Images flashed in his mind of his dealing with the Forsaken and warlocks and every evil thing that lived in this world. For the unlife of him though he couldn't figure out why he hated them before. He remembered reading about the Light but not what it felt like. It had left him completely and a rage at the Light slowly started filling it's place. Why is it gone? I did nothing wrong. I was given a second chance and for that the Light deems me unworthy?

Suddenly a voice filled his thoughts, her voice. He looked at Noxvari as she commanded him to ride on a horse she picked out for him. "Thank you," he replied back. He wished to express more but she did not seem to want it. So he simply climbed on the horse and followed her as they rode to Andorhal.

[Synaxis]

The thanks was unexpected. Most of the newly risen were baffled, confused, completely out of sorts with no idea who they were or what was going on. Most weren't even capable of speech so soon after reanimation as their body was still trying to figure out what the hell happened. The trauma of dying did some funny things.. A noncommittal grunt was her only response to the thanks and she mounted her own horse. With a gesture, she indicated for the entire party to follow, and the Forsaken did - if Carl needed it, she'd give him a mental poke, but if he went willingly with her she'd keep her magical mental fingers off his mind and soul until such an occasion arose that she would need to use them.

The trip to Andorhal was short on horseback. What took an hour on foot for Carl and his guards took a fraction of that time on the steady, surefooted warhorses. The stolen living horses - particularly the pregnant mare - had a slightly tougher time of the terrain they crossed to get to Andorhal in the shortest time possible, but in the end they made it in one piece as well.

The guards at the gates of the primary entrance to Andorhal immediately stepped aside when they saw the party arriving and for a moment, the high amount of activity in the settlement paused to observe the entrance of the Forsaken troops. Several people rushed to them to take the horses when the undead dismounted following Noxvari's lead. "Andorhal," she commented silently to Carl, "Most of these people lived and worked here, in life. The Alliance wrongly believes it is their right and duty to tell these former residents they cannot return to the city they once called home. We will not stand for this."

And that seemed to be the mantra for the next few days. Between bouts of heated argument between Noxvari and the Forsaken currently running the military operations in Andorhal, the death knight made a point of keeping up a near constant stream of.. propaganda, if you will, aimed at affirming the former priest's loyalty to the Forsaken. When a human prisoner was caught sneaking around the settlement, Noxvari made a point of making Carl tend to the situation - if he hesitated or tried to argue, she would force him into it as a display of power. Resistance was clearly futile.

By the start of the third day in Andorhal, Noxvari was growing tired of the people that had been in charge. A val'kyr had arrived overnight and with her came the confidence Noxvari usually had preceding battle.

[Nonfictionless]

Carl listened to Noxvari and started to agree. He did this too when alive, but wasn't he alive still? Why can't the humans let them live too? He was still unwary of having to kill those that he used to be among but more and more of what he was told and shown made much more sense from this side of the fence. The Forsaken did nothing wrong. They lived here in life and just wanted to live here again. What right did the Alliance have to tell them they couldn't? They were after all once part of the Alliance. Then one day he was told he had to kill a human sneaking and spying. He tried not to but Noxvari pressed her will upon him and commanded him too. Carl was never one for weapons though. He didn't have the strength to be a warrior and he only carried a staff, but still couldn't remember why. Then a whisper came to him. Ebbing in with the rage at the Light in his mind and spoke to him of another force. A shadow. Then he remember battles of priests, dark and light, the cult and the church. He wasn't sure this was the right path though. No, he thought, the Shadow is evil. Power only for powers sake. Still Noxvari's force pressed against his mind. He was a Forsaken now, but not evil. He picked a dagger and ended the spy's life with a quick thrust to the neck. The Light may have abandoned me but I can still be a good person....., he thought albeit not very reassuringly.


Aland arrived in two days time to Andorhol and rushed towards the commander. A death knight by the name of Thassarian. He didn't care for the man and was against their adoption into the Alliance, and spoke out publicly against it, but needed information quickly and he knew Thassarian would know for sure. He nearing knocked the door to the command center as he burst in, several warriors drawing their weapons but Thassarian just said, "I figured you would come Aland. I had heard you and Carl were very close friends." He kept his words brief and to the point, "Good then you know where he is." Thassarian frowned, even though he knew of Aland it was plain as day that even this Death Knight did not relish in giving bad news. "Unfortunately, Bishop Windsor is dead." The news broke like a tide over Aland. "What did you say abomination! Where did you send him? How did this happen?!" Thassarian rose and motioned to two of his guards, "Watch your tongue paladin. It was not intended. The Forsaken have become restless and attacked a farm the Bishop was visiting to heal the sick." The guards grabbed Aland's arms as Thassarian spoke. "Restless?! They are the walking dead!" Aland screamed in a rage at this fool. "They murder families and villages daily and you left him defenseless at a farm?!" Thassarian slammed his hand into the table, "I am a general of Stormwind, Paladin. I am no fool he had a guard at Felstone. And I don't need to explain myself to you. Guards remove him from Andorhal!" Aland threw the guards off of him with ease and they crashed into the floor with bang. He then turned his back on the death knight and stormed out of the command center. A few feet away he broke into a run to Felstone. You can't be dead Carl. Light damn you!

In a few minutes he arrived out of breath at the farm only to find it almost completely burned to the ground. He drew his demonic great-sword and gripped it tightly, hoping to find some Forsaken. He walked to each building hoping to find a trace of.....anything. The last house he came upon he felt something. Moving a few boards and logs that once made the house he found the ground to be scared. Yet in six perfect circles the ground was untouched. "Carl...," he whispered. He shortly found the remains of Carl's staff, the staff of his father. Shattered beyond repair and Aland started to weep. He knew that Carl could no longer live if this was here. It never left his side, even while sleeping. Damn you Carl, why didn't you listen to me you young fool. Time and time again he had urged Carl to not leave the safety of the Church. Was everyone he cared for cursed to leave him?

After casting a few spells he discovered how the fight played out, the spells of light and dark that covered this area. This deathknight who attacked them was powerful to say the least. It would even be a trying match for Aland. However after a few minutes he discovered a final spell. "No." A rage filled him as he realized someone was brought back to life. He could only assume it was Carl. A Bishop of the Church would be considered a trophy to these sick monsters. He pulled out one of the many maps he had made over the years. Often updated with Carl's own information. He located the Forsaken base in these lands and started there immediately, keeping off the roads.

[Synaxis]

Noxvari knew Carl had briefly felt the urge to turn to the shadow for strength when told to kill the human. She could tell - that tendril of mental thought gave her access to his thoughts, and when she pressed him so hard, it was impossible not to listen in on the conflict. Secretly, she wanted to force his hand into the realm of the shadow's power, but the importance was not the manner in which he killed the captured human spy, but that he did so. When the deed was done, the grip the death knight held on the freshly risen priest's mind and soul loosened enough for him to function without her forcing the issue.

"Good," she commented out loud with a small smirk. "He would have done the same to you."

It wasn't a lie, either.

On that day that Aland arrived at the Alliance-held portion of Andorhal, Noxvari spent a great deal of time arguing in regards to the tactics being employed against the Alliance. Andorhal was not her project to control; ultimately she did not control the movements of the battle, but she held significant enough weight to throw around and was able to bully the Forsaken's 'proper' commander, Koltira, without ever having to worry about punishments from the higher ups. It's not like she was going to get owned for touting a more brutal strategy, anyway - I mean, really, Koltira winds up getting meathooked through a portal to the Undercity because he's too much of a sissy. Let it simply beknown that Nox was able to identify (and loathe) this particular trait firsthand.

Though she was not properly 'in charge,' she still had a number of underlings reporting to her. One scout came sprinting through Andorhal to the small office Noxvari had claimed for herself. "Shadowstalker - ma'am - I've seen something," the scout panted, looking simultaneously excited and nervous about her find. "Hard to find him, he was trying his best not to be seen but I saw him, it's that paladin - the one with the strange sword? You know, the human you-"

"Yes, yes," Noxvari said sharply, suddenly attentive. "I know, what of him?"

"He seems to be heading this way," the scout said, practically bouncing. Something about the idea of a good slaughter excited the young scout. "As far as I can tell he was coming from the area around that farm, uh, Felstone? Heading this way. At least, that's what it seemed like, like I said he was trying to not be seen so he could just be going on some long-"

"Good, fine," Noxvari said distractedly, getting onto her feet. If this was that nameless paladin she knew of and hated deeply, she had to welcome him properly. "Go, keep an eye on the border. Come to me if you see him again close by," she said as an afterthought, walking out of the office and immediately ordered two idle Forsaken to prepare one of the basements in the settlement for a captive... Just in case. She then mounted her steed and parked herself in the open, such that she could be seen from the outside but was not close enough to sneak attack.. Silently, she'd indicate to Carl that he ought to come over to her, positioned to her side, closer still to the road into Andorhal.. Noxvari had no intention of going and finding the enraged paladin. If he showed himself she'd deal with him, otherwise she was going to spend her time glaring viciously at what she liked to refer to as the death knight. As if she's not.

[Nonfictionless]

Carl followed Noxvari a little eagerly as they walked a bit away from the town and stood in the open. He was unsure of what she actually wanted but he was coming to embrace the new life she had given him. Now outfitted in dark robes, nothing of the Cult, but clearly colors of the Forsaken and a dagger strapped to his hip. Even with his new clothes and somewhat decayed form he still clearly resembled Carl Windsor, and he waited.


Aland arrived at the Forsaken town near dusk and snuck inside almost too easily. He saw Noxvari sitting on her steed, and beside her.....Carl. He cursed the Light again for letting him be taken by the Forsaken. Years of training, knowledge, tactics, advice just flew out of his mind. They all screamed that this was a trap and he should wait, but his heart was louder. He couldn't let this fate befall his last friend in this world.

His eye's burned in a red light as he burst from his hiding spot, holding his demonic great-sword aloft. The Holy Light blazing upon his sword and quickening his steps. "Be purged abomination! I won't allow your evil to spread any longer Noxvari! We end this now!" He closed the gap quickly and swept downward on Noxvari.

[Synaxis]

Noxvari's steed knew Aland was there before she did. One of Valor's ears twisted suddenly to the side, immediately followed by his head. The horse could hear the paladin nearby, moving around.. his steps were foreign and unexpected, he had never heard them before. His sudden attentiveness caught Noxvari's attention, but she didn't look. to see what he was staring at and listening to, even though he was staring at the exact area where Aland was sneaking, out of sight. A quiet snort left the undead stallion and he began to paw nervously, clearly trying to warn his rider of danger, but she ignored him. She had to.

When Aland came charging, Valor properly reacted - he lunged to the side and turned to face the sudden paladin charging. Quick as a flash, Noxvari threw herself out of the saddle and raised the long handle of her axe to parry the blade being dropped toward her. The force of it surprised her and forced her back a brief step, but she found her feet again. "Get him!" she roared, "Alive! Do not kill him! He is mine!"

Several of the guards positioned around the Forsaken-settled Andorhal sprung into action, apparently forgetting whose orders they were meant to take in this city - all they saw was a conflict and a superior's command, and they hurried to carry it out. Nox made absolutely no move to attack Aland, she let a handful of Forsaken guards pile on him in a game effort to subdue him. She joined only in the form of unleashing an icy disease upon him - a frosty blast that might just crawl into his lungs and infect him from there. It was by no means a fatal thing; only meant to weaken him a tad, make him easier to subdue until the Forsaken's equivalent to chloroform could be fetched..

And yes, it was fetched, and the excited Apothecary bearing it stood nearby looking for the chance to jump in and use it. First, though, the crazed paladin had to be immobilized long enough to be a steady target..

[Nonfictionless]

Aland let his blade fall back as he moved to attack Noxvari again, but she retreated and Carl's shocked face kept him from pursuing. He watched as several guards guards rushed towards him. This was not unexpected. He gave an angry glance to Noxvari, as if to call her a coward. He spun and cut down the first Forsaken with ease. The Light clung to his blade empowering each swing as he cut through the Forsaken guards. Twisting and turning he fought them off. He knew this was a losing battle though. There were just too many. He let his guard down too low with Noxvari because of her retreat and soon felt the icy touch in his throat. He coughed and stumbled as a guad he just disarmed clawed and clutched onto his right leg. He was armored but struggled to keep moving and parrying blows and the number of guards increased. In a last desperate move he prayed to the Light and as always it answered his prayers. His sword radiated pure Light as he swung it in a sweeping motion taking out the four guards in front of him, but four more took their place. No.... Another guard grabbed at his left leg and he couldn't shake them. He could of cut them down but even with Noxvari's command he doubted they would obey completely. One more fell to his blade as he plunged it into the Forsaken's chest. Unfortunately this did not immediately kill the Forsaken and he clung to the blade. In the time he took to yank it free another grabbed his left arm and head it down. Aland slashed at a few clambering for his sword arm. The disease cleanly lodged inside his chest at this point and forced him to fall in a coughing and retching fit. "Coward!" He screamed at Noxvari.

[Synaxis]

Noxvari took several steps back to watch the growing melee. Those that didn't immediately leap on Aland stood and watched in a kind of shocked stupor somewhere behind Nox, who had a look of pure glee on her face despite the fact that Aland was managing to thin the number of guards attacking him. They could be replaced.. The look of glee turned into borderline euphoria when he was eventually pinned, and the single screamed word was met with cold laughter. "Shut up, fool," she snapped with a grin, glancing at the Forsaken apothecary nearby who held the noxious chemical that would force the paladin into a little nap if he inhaled it. "Go on," she muttered to the Forsaken woman, who seized the opportunity to soak a portion of her own robes in the concoction. She sat down on his back and pulled the soaked portion of her robes around to roughly grab Aland's face, covering his mouth and nose as if trying to suffocate him.

Breathing in enough of the noxious fumes would result in temporary loss of consciousness, which was the goal here. Andorhal was ill-equipped for the kind of activities Noxvari had in mind for Aland. She would have to take him elsewhere. The Undercity.. Thoughts of reinforcing Andorhal and annihilating the Alliance trying to reclaim it were dashed away; she had to get to the city now, she had to take care of this paladin once and for all. A mage was found and in moments and a portal was crafted, through which Noxvari stepped and Aland was carried by a quartet of the guards that had subdued him. Once he was on the other side, his transportation was left to a hulking abomination, who, at Nox's command, brought him into a perfectly square room with one door, no windows, and no furniture. No bed, no table, no nothing. It was a bare room. The only thing other than the door that was not completely uniform was a smooth stone panel across from the door. Its purpose was not obvious.

While Aland was out, he was stripped of his armor and weapons and left only in regular clothes, so that when he came to he'd be fairly vulnerable. The entire process - from knocking him out to leaving him alone in that room - took around twenty minutes, and at the end of it, Noxvari was still smirking in the room behind the smooth stone panel. From this side it was a window with bars just behind the stone, only opened from her side. She was free to spy on him, to watch his reaction, taunt him if she pleased..

[Nonfictionless]

Aland coughed further as the robes were wrapped around his head. In seconds, he fell to the concoction. As Aland was taken away, Carl was left in Andorhal. He was confused at what had just occurred. Why did that paladin attack so foolishly? Was Noxvari waiting for him? He did seem familiar.... But soon he was given orders and went to work. It seemed for now he would work to drive the Alliance out of Andorhal and was content with his new unlife.

Aland awoke to find himself in a stone room. It was familiar though. Stone likely mined from nearby quarries, Undercity. He had made a few trips here in his work with the Silver Hand. He coughed and found the cause quickly. He cleansed the disease as he examined the rest of his body. No wounds but still aching from the fight. He could hear the voice of his father in his mind again berating him for acting so foolishly, just as he did in the Second War.

"So Noxvari you have me. Too cowardly to fight me on your own? Too cowardly to kill me yourself? Brought me to Undercity do your superiors could hold your hand?" Underneath he was afraid. Not of death but of what Aland knew she had planned. Carl was not weak but still he was turned. Aland was much stronger than him but even still....other's stronger than he had been turned.

[Synaxis]

Aland's accusations to the empty room made her smirk. As much as she wanted to let him sit there and stew, to let him believe she wasn't even there, that he was alone - as much as she wanted to see the effect that belief would have on him, she did not have the self-control to do so. She slid open the stone slab and peered at him through the bars of the window. It was big enough for a man to fit through.. That's why there were bars. When she opened the window, her hood was down and she was smirking in a smug, triumphant way. It was a bit different than the way she might look at him on the battlefield.. Here, he was in her territory. He was the prey caught in the predator's trap. No matter what happened, she would win.

"Superiors?" she scoffed, pointedly glancing backwards into the small, dark room behind her. There was nobody else in there. "That's a good one. If it were up to them, you'd have been dealt with immediately, in Andorhal. They would not waste any time on a maggot like you. They do not know you like I do, though, paladin. They do not know what a self-righteous, arrogant zealot you are. It's fine, though.." She reclined slightly in her seat, face partially hidden by the natural shadows in her room. Her eyes still glowed through the darkness, leering at him. "..You can be cured of your unfortunate affliction. You are not as balanced and stoic and good as perhaps you would like to believe. I know. You feel rage, sadness, fear.. perfectly human emotions."

She leaned forward again, casually draping her hands through the bars and leaning forward on her elbows. "You are not a young man," she observed. "I would feel safe betting this is not your first war. It will not be your last, either, but that is not for discussing now.. It occurred to me," she drawled thoughtfully in a tone suggesting she was just toying with him, "You never properly introduced yourself to me. I can continue to refer to you as various nouns, if you prefer, but I feel like at this point in our relationship I deserve your name, and then you can tell me what possessed you to try to attack me in the middle of a town controlled and heavily manned by my people. You can't have possibly expected that to end well for you. While I will confess my surprise that you made it in without being found and dealt with, I do know that is more due to the embarrassing ineptitude of my colleagues rather than any exceptional skill on your part. You are lucky, there. They would have just killed you. I want to cure you, like I cured the priest, Carl."

So, now apparently Aland's faith is a disease. That is how Noxvari made it sound, at least, and her expression was solid: she wasn't convincing herself of this, she was stating this like a solid fact.