His arms crossed in his chest, Grimgor was like a pale ghost in ragged dirty white robes, walking in the forest like that. His eyes twitching, looking around in paranoia, he was still under the shock of his unfortunate fight. He was distrustful, scared.. Whispers were chasing him in his mind. He could feel neither the warmth of the Light, nor his allways ready self-confidence. And that forest did no good for his mentality.
Murmuring to himself, he walked on as the group pushed forward. He was watching the mage giving a shoulder to the night elven death kinght. Earlier, he begged for healing, but Grimgor did nothing but ignore his plea. He watched the death knight as she slowly slipped away from the living world. "No." he thought, "Expected her die.". That realisation of inner sin swirled another storm of thoughts and doubts inside his mind, and whispers became even stronger for a moment. He blamed himself, another part of him defended his motivations and another one was still crying in a corner. His mind was tearing itself apart because of the after effects of his failure. Memories of the past, especially the loss of loved ones, failures of many adventures crossed his mind in a flash and all were adding even more pain to his heart. "Failed.. I have.." he said, and realised that tears were flowing out of his eyes. He started sobbing, while trying to cover his face with one of his arms. Now it was shame that covered his inside.
Upon meeting the paladin, Grimgor raised his head, wiping his tears with his arm in a rush, and bowed with respect "Lord Paladin.". He felt the ensuring aura of the holy fighter, emanating warmth of Light. He felt strange, like he was invigorated, but something was amiss. He felt that something inside of him was blocking away the sacred energy coming from outside, trying to keep Grimgor to himself. Almost immediately he realised what was plaguing him for so long, and anger took him over. "Fool!" he swore to himself. They kept walking for a while, and under longer influence of the aura, Grimgor felt that it was time. Silently, he slowed down, and evaded others passing by. He looked at the sad, shocked faces of his comrades passing by. Chonar, the mighty Thane of Ironforge, was like lost in his train of thoughts, weary and in despair. Darren was looking good and cool-headed, but Neyira seemed to be puking out blood. Her wounds were severe, despite the fact that they were concealed under Darren's poor bandages he was able to asses the situation of the wounds. "Must fought after me." he thought, realising that he saw her in steam tank for the first time. Looking at her grew his anger towards himself. "Incomp.. Incam.. Bargh! Idiot!" he was swearing to himself in his thoughts. He slowed down a bit more. Now he was a few steps behind the party. None of them seemed to realise he was backing away. "Good." he thought, and jumped inside of a rotten tree trunk and hidden there.
A few moments later he raised his head, and relieved that his friends were totally out of sight. "They can't help." he said to himself. "No one can." he repeated for a few times. He stood in a small clearing, facing the way his friends passed to. He could still feel the flickering aura of the paladin. "Easy find them" he murmured. Then he raised his right hand and while looking at it he tried to channel that spell. As his hand started to dimly glow, a dark force flashed through his nerves and he screamed in pain. He grew even more angry. He yelled "AAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGG!" and started channeling all his power to his right hand. Dark energies started flowing around, shadowy tendrils like the one that impaled him earlier was trying to subdue the power of the Light flowing through him. But they were no match for his rage. "How?" he thought, "How could i see not?". "Rip me apart if i must!" he yelled, dedicating all of his courage in this spell. Darkness came over him, from all corners, all trees and soil beneath him, everything started going black. Fear started trembling his knees, but he did not stop. He set aside his doubts and images of the night elven death kinght covered his mind, all in blood, dying.. "Compassion." he murmured to himself, "How fare so far!" he yelled. His hand glowed stronger by the passing moment, fightnig back the shadowy corruption that took place right at his heart, where he was first struck. Now he could see dark tendrils dwindling, retreating to his heart, where the original invisible wound would be. His eyes were wide open but he could see nothing, he was now in utter darkness, but he saw a dim light, glowing in the distance. "Inner will." he thought, and he tapped at it. A sprout of holy light bursted out of his chest, destroying tendrils and driving out the darkness gathering around him, soil he was standing on got a lighter color and grass began to sprout, even old trees around him seemed cleansed of the evil that was abound. He felt his inner will back where it used to be, his mind cleansed of any doubts and fears, and he felt fresh. "Fool." he murmured to himself, he remembered how Brother Sona advised him repeatedly "Never go into battle without ward.". With a smile on his face, he chanted holy words "Omitte timorem!" and warded his mind against horrors.
"Now catch them, or too late." he mumbled as he started running towards Tyr's Hand. Party was a bit ahead of him and he remembered how Neyira was severily wounded. "Probably rig in lung." he said, "Might kill her if walks on.". With his renewed strength and focused inner will, he was now a lot faster. It was not long before he saw the scene where the party stopped and Neyira was about to charge the surrounding scourge forces. "Suicide!" he yelled, running towards her. Right before she could realise, he channeled his holy magic and a bolt of holy light surged towards her and forked right before reaching her body, grasping her arms and legs from behind.Her wrathful gaze locked towards Grimgor as he ran next to her, and while others froze in surprise at what he was doing, he said "Move not!".
Normally, it would be so easy for a death knight to break free of the shackling holy light, that he would not even try it. But he knew Neyira was terribly wounded, and despite the fact that her exterior wounds were closed, he knew her interior bleeding was continuing, and part of her broken rib was probably inside her lungs, filling it with blood by the passing moment. Another wound, even the slightest, harmless push could collapse her to knees and knock her out of breath, which would end up certain death in a combat situation. He raised his glowing hand, filled with healing Light, and whispered "Sorry. Will hurt. Much." and held the shackeled warrior's chest, right where her wounds were. Her eyes widened as holy light turned bandages to ash and burned her skin and she screamed as Grimgor tore the wound partially and got inside. He was amused as she was still concious, that kind of pain would throw any living being out of conciousness. "Torment it would be." he thought, as he focused his mind on the wound. He realised that the death knight was lucky, normally a wound like that would have filled her lungs in no time, but death knights had their veins icy, and their blood almost frozen. That gave them lower blood pressure and less blood movement. Overall, that lowered the amount of blood that filled in through the fissure, and saved her so far from strangulation. A few moments later he managed to reach the broken rib, and grabbed it tightly as Neyira moaned, nearly passing out with pain, and she puked out a mouthful of blood. Grimgor readied his left hand, pushing his light-filled palm towards her chest, and pulled the broken rib piece out of her lungs. She trembled in pain and stopped fighting back the shackles, but shackles still held her standing. Moans followed the trembling, and her eyes closed half. Almost immediately after pulling the piece out, Grimgor started penancing the wound, focusing his powers on the now-open wound of right lung. He knew he had to close the fissure as fast as he could, otherwise she could have passed out to probably never come back. He closed the lung skillfully, moving out most of the filled blood, and started fixing up the ribs. He felt that he was using too much magical power, but his will did not falter. "Compassion" he murmured, he was willing to save her even by the cost of his own life.
Moments later, shackles broke off and Neyira landed on her knees, still puking out some of the blood that was left within her throat and bronches. But she seemed fine. "Can fight now." he said, smiling at her, and blessed her with divine stamina like the rest of party. He had tore half of his robe to bandage the wound, in case of a new hit it could have been re-opened. Literally he was half naked, his clean, grey colored underpants obviously could be seen now. "To hell with skirts!" he grinned, and unsheated his Jambiya, reached for the hidden (now visible as he tore half of his robe) dwarven canteen he found at the steam tank, and drank half of the dwarven ale, then put the canteen back on his belt.
((Hey, it was nigh time i took action for the wounded eh? Sorry if it was too long or boring or stupid, i did my best in the current situation. And Pklol you are very welcome to join up, at least for me, but lets hear what Darced has to say as he is the owner of the thread and this RP adventure And guys, a little more p2p interaction would not hurt, we are not solo questing you know ))
Last edited by Mengucekli; 2012-11-08 at 12:43 PM.
Reason: Ugly long wall of text, obviously
((Hey, Darced, I think now's an appropriate time to re-introduce Lethean, eh? *wink wink*))
Neyira knelt on the ground, eyes shut tight, trying to push away the blazing, indescribeable agony that coursed through her body.
When the dwarven priest had first shackled her, she'd become infuriated, not understanding what he was doing. She knew she was wounded, but when he began to heal her she realized, through the haze of pain, tha she'd been more severely wounded than any of them had originally thought. The healing process itself was more agonizing than she could have ever imagined; she'd never thought of what would happen if the powers of the Light were used on one so far from such a source. Now she knew. And I'd prefer to keep it a once-in-a-lifetime-only experience, she thought, retching up more excess, congealing blood. Though it pained her greatly, she forced herself to her feet, eyes narrowed.
"I shall forgive you only because you meant good with that move, priest," she growled, turning to the attacking Scourge. "As for you, damnable fools; you've met your end."
The Scourge marauders and their risen soldiers were upon the party within seconds. The party's thoughts focused from the recent healing of her, to the battle at hand.
Neyira, for her part, was twirling and weaving her way through the Scourge ranks, twin runeblades flying through the air at incredible speeds. Ichor was splattered in every direction, and her swords seemed to sing songs of battle as they gorged themselves in the enemy's unholy energy - every kill further energized her.
At one point she found herself at a break, panting, shoulders loose. The tips of her blades touched the unholy ground, ichor dripping off the gleaming, rune-inscribed blades. She released Icegore, and the blade hovered on its own before her. Her left hand free, she reached to her waist and withdrew a small horn, engraved with crude markings in the Scourge tongue. I haven't touched this thing in almost a year, she thought, realizing that now would be an appropriate time to do so. She put the horn to her mouth and blew. he resonating sound seemed to vibrate and hum through her chest, and it released a wave of dark, icy energy. The blast touched priest, paladin, mage and warrior alike, empowering them through the use of dark magic. Though it was so, she knew it would harm no one. She dropped the horn and snatched Icegore from the air as her full helm rippled and took form around her head. The demon-like helmet left only her flaring eyes visible, and Neyira snarled softly, readying herself once again. Let the bloodbath continue.
Darren, for the most part, kept to the outskirts of the small ambush-site. He tossed frostbolts, fireballs and arcane missiles this way and that, tearing apart the Scourge forces apart through the use of magic. Blizzards, firestorms and barrages of arcane blasts served to swiftly drop the ranks of the Scourge, but more rose to take their place. This Darced seems to have many resources to his advantage, Darren thought, scanning the unusual battlefield for Neyira. I'd better keep an eye out for any more surprises.
Darced watched from the rise, flanked by tattered banners and charging abominations en route down the hill. The lich turns towards the cage and watches as Tirion Fordring floats unconsciously in the void-tank, "A shame paladin, you were the last hope for this land. Now, it is mine." He looks past the cage and spots a figure arriving on horseback. An argent crusader by the looks of it, but Darced knew better, his new ally. The horse screamed as dark magic engulfed it changing it and its rider into their true and dark visages. "You've arrived. How fares Tyr's Hand my friend?" The death knight said nothing as it remained bucked on it's horse, his piercing blue eyes darting toward Darced's own. The Scourge master turns back to the battle, "I assume they'll be in disarray soon enough. You've done well Lethean." Darced points to the ensuing skirmish below in the screaming trees, "Now, if you'd be so kind?"
Aldean smashed incoming marauders and skeletons as they past through the trees. He roared as they came down the hill in large waves, barely allowing any pauses, any time whatsoever. A large abomination rushed at him, but Aldean was undeterred, In my element! He charges towards the mound of sentient flesh and craked one of his hammers into the left knee cap, crushing it's leg. "Haaaaagggghh!" It swung with one of it's cleavers but missed horrendously. "You piles of shit are useless!" He used his other hammer to crush the skull. He moved on, but as the skeleton cracked in three a familiar sound could be heard. Deathchargers flew from the woods and towards the adventurers. Light! This isn't my element!
((I was hoping you'd say that Mex! I hope you don't mind me giving you an intro, I can change it if you want.))
((Intro is fine, Darc. Thanks, mate! Now... let's switch from light to dark, shall we? I'll keep in touch with my nice guys. ))
Lethean approached as his master, Darced, spoke to him. He said nothing; merely watched as the battle below them ensued.
"I assume they'll be in disarray soon enough. You've done well, Lethean." The death knight tilted his head towards his master. The lich gestured towards the battlefield. "Now, if you'd be so kind?"
Lethean didn't reply instantly. He could feel... something... below. He wasn't quite sure what it was yet. Ever since the events of the Forge of Souls and the war between the Greys and the Scourge there, he'd changed... drastically. Change isn't always a bad thing, now is it? "Your will is my command, master." He tightened his grip on Bloodhaze's reins and drew his two-handed sword, Shadowfrost. The deathcharger reared and neighed loudly, an eerie, hollow sound, and Lethean's battlecry followed it.
"By the Might of the Scourge... FALL!"
Bloodhaze charged down the hill with unfathomable speed; Lethean held Shadowfrost in his right hand, his left holding the deathcharger's reins tightly. The decaying grove where the battle was taking place came into full view shortly, and already Lethean could sense the bloodshed.
He focused his dark powers, and in his wake rose hundreds upon hundreds of ghouls, skeletal soldiers and other undead creatures. They roared and growled in his path, and were at their master's heels, eager to join the fight.
"For the Scourge!" Lethean cried, crashing through the grove and descending upon a hapless Argent Crusader. The paladin fell instantly before Shadowfrost, crimson blood creating a trail of color as his runeblade flew through the air. His minions burst through behind him and attacked anything in their sight; save their master, of course.
Lethean swung his runeblade this way and that, dropping a few more Crusaders before meeting cold steel.
His eyes widened at his adversary. "Neyira?!"
Neyira shoved against Shadowfrost, and he was forced to back down. Without skipping a beat, the agile night elf swept her twin runeblades in a low, horizontal strike, severing both of Bloodhaze's front legs at the knees. His deathcharger screamed in pain and dropped, and Lethean jumped from the dark steed, landing in a roll and righting himself swiftly. He spun, Shadowfrost gripped tightly to meet his new foe.
"How dare you return," Neyira snarled, narrowing her eyes from behind her helm, "after what you've done."
Lethean thought he would be furious, or perhaps hesitant. To his surprise, as well as hers, he burst into laughter. "Naive as always, are we?" He shook his head, hoping to lower her guard. "Don't you realize, Neyira? This land is already falling beneath the might of the Scourge."
Neyira let loose her own hollow chuckle. "We will stand strong, as we always should. I'd have suspected you'd have known that, old friend."
"Pagh," Lethean scoffed. "Tyr's Hand has already succumbed to our might." He gestured behind him, his army locked in battle with the rest of her allies. "Soon, they'll resemble what stands behind me, fighting to victory. You're welcome to join us at any time."
Neyira growled and spirnted towards him, runeblades flashing. Lethean laughed and dodged the blow, driving a plated elbow into her stomach. She gasped, stunned, and he brought Shadowfrost's hilt up, bashing her in the jaw. Her full helm deflected most of the blow, but she was still knocked back and to the ground. He turned on her, Shadowfrost's tip nearing her throat as she lay there, gasping. Suddenly, a fireball exploded into his back and sent him reeling. Growling, Lethean used his own magic to counter the spell as he shielded himself.
"Who dares?" he snapped, spinning. To his shock, a young human dressed in Kirin Tor battle-attire stood before him, azure flames licking at his unharmed hands.
"Step away from her, Scourge filth," the young mage commanded, his voice carrying a surprising air of authority. Lethean, however, had no intentions of taking orders from someone little more than a child.
"Dalaran scum," Lethean growled in reply, raising Shadowfrost. "You'll regret joining up with this pitiful band of dreaming 'heroes.'"
"As you shall regret gathering the nerve to show your face," the young mage said smugly. Lethean could not discern his expression though, as his face was covered by a hood. He did, however, catch the lips curve upward in a smirk. Naive, foolish human, Lethean thought, narrowing his eyes.
((I am just going to dive right in we can hammer out details later ))
During his travels it was not uncommon to come across a battle here or there but this, this was glorious. You quickly moved behind a building in the cover of darkness and sized up the situation. He get a fireball rip into the death knight with the giant sword, a night elf on the ground, and a mage. Not just any mage, but a mage looking to pick a fight. "You Scourge are all the same..." Ian steps out from the shadows, approaches the mage and stands at his side. "The only thing worse than your ramblings is your odor, so I will stand with this mage in hopes that our combined might may silence you yet." Ian looks to the mage gives him a nod and a smirk, and places his hand on the hilt of his katana ready to draw. "We only know our limits once we reach them, so please death knight enlighten me", Ian spoke mockingly.
Neyira, still stunned, was reeling with shock. Lethean? Returned? What is he doing fighting alongside Darced? What has that bastard lich offered him? Her ears were ringing, blood filled her mouth, and her entire head hurt in general. Her gut, too, was in pain; she felt like she was going to vomit. She struggled to her knees, but collapsed to the ground yet again. Her twin runeblades were just out of reach, but everytime she tried to stand, her already-blurred vision worsened. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness clawed its way through her, and she knew she was open to a killing blow.
Lethean cocked an eyebrow as the human mage was joined by another adventurer. "Silence me, pitiful fool?" Lethean laughed at the mage's ally's mocking tone. "You miserable creatures continue to amuse me. Here is how I shall 'enlighten' you, 'hero.'" Lethean released Shadowfrost's hilt with his left hand and gestured towards the numerous dead bodies lying about. They spasmed, clawing their way back to the world from the Twisting Nether, to join their master in undeath. They rose, eyes glowing blue, skin grey and decaying, a horrid stench filling the air around them. They groaned and growled, standing behind Lethean. His army of undead soldiers continued to fight onward, showing no mercy to their foes.
Lethean turned his dark gaze back to the mage and his new ally. He smirked, mimicking the expressions directed to him. "You don't understand, do you?" He tsked. "You shall, soon enough." He gripped Shadowfrost with both gauntleted hands, and took a stance. "Come, heroes. I wish to see more of your... 'combined might.'"
Darren leaned in towards his mysterious ally. "Watch yourself, friend," he warned in a low tone. "He isn't to be trifled with lightly. I don't know who he is exactly, but he defeated the night elf with little effort, and from what I've seen before, she is an extremely skilled and powerful fighter." He let both his hands drop to his sides, palms open, as azure flames licked up his arms, leaving both his skin and clothing undamaged. "You distract him. I'll take care of his little pets, then join you in the fight."
Last edited by xMexyragosX; 2012-11-13 at 07:03 PM.
Ian gave Darren the same smirk he gave the death knight. "Try and keep up...". Among the risen he estimated their numbers to be twenty plus, but it was to hectic to keep track. Ian had faced death knights before but this one...was different. "The more the merrier",Ian said darting and unsheathing his katana in one smooth motion dispatching the first of the undead squad brought on by this harbinger of death. "It is a cute trick, but I don't think your group of merry undead men have the required equipment to dispatch me." Ian knew he was in over his head, and he loved it. Never play with the odds in your favor, makes you complacent. He took his blade from his sheathe and darted at the next ghoul, instead of cutting him down however, he stepped on the head for a boost to attempt to deal a two handed over head strike at the walking tower of death.
Grimgor was happy to face undead again. "Better this time." he murmured, raining down holy fire from heavens on those filthy heathens that tried to surround them. He was trying to keep flanks clear, boost morale of the fighting men, bless them and shield them wherever possible. For a moment he cheered happily, then turned his gaze towards his companions who were engaged in combat with that new death knight. "Who is who knows who?" he mumbled, but stopped trying to think about what they were actually doing. He noticed Neyira bending down and panicked. "More injury? Not possib.." he said and raised his hand as she were crouching, cahnted sacred words and a bolt of light-speed energy bursted forward from his hand and in the blink of an eye severed the soul of Neyira from her body. A moment later, strong magic's effect re-materialised the night elven death knight right in front of him. "Hap what?" he asked a few times, trying to asses her situation, then realised it was of no use. She would not understand even if she were in her best condition. He uttered the power word and bolstered her with divine powers. Then he shielded her with holy magics.
He then realised that she was unarmed. He tore his robe's right arm and wrapped Jambiya's hilt with it. Handing it over to Neyira he said "Take. Strike darkness. With light.". That was a huge trusting move for Grimgor as he would never ever let anyone touch the holy blade, yet a death knight. He then saw the charging man with katana and he was yet again filled with both excitement and concern. He rushed towards the mage and warrior, trying to cover their rear while smiting a few stealthy geists that were about to ambush the mage from behind. He immediately shielded him yelling "Aegis!" and focusing his powers on the surrounding scourge while trying to keep an eye out for the human warrior that went knee-deep into scourge.
Neyira blinked the daze out of her eyes, and realized she was lying beside Grimgor, who stood over her, babbling strange words. If only I could make sense... She felt him shield her with the Light, and was surprised to find that it did not harm her this time. Maybe there is still some form of lightness within my corrupt soul. She discovered that her runeblades were still over by Lethean. Apparently, Grimgor realized this as well, as he tore the cloth covering hsi right arm and wrapped it about his own blade, handing it to her. Strike darkness... with light? A curious notion, to her. Nonetheless, she did not argue. Her condition had improved somewhat, and she felt she could take another whack at her former friend. She wrapped her hand around the hilt of Grimgor's blade and stood, albeit shakily. After a moment she regained her grace, and faced Lethean's back.
"Time to end this," she growled softly. ((Or so she wishes.))
Lethean anticipated Ian's move, and thus was ready to block it as the agile human darted around his soldiers and used one of his ghouls as a stepping stone. He jumped, bringing his strange blade high for a two-handed strike. Laughing, Lethean dodged the blow easily as Ian landed, and slammed Shadowfrost's hilt into the human's gut. He dodged around Ian as Darren blinked forward, obliterating his soldiers with a wave of azure fire. The young mage turned to Lethean, who was already waiting for him. Lethean cast a dark spell, trapping Darren in a shadowy prison that both cut off his spell-casting and immobilized him.
"Weak, pathetic fools," Lethean snarled, his tone eerie and filled with hatred. "Doom is upon you; you have no hope. And yet you still continue to fight against the inevitable." The sin'dorei shook his head in mock sadness. He sensed a presence behind him and turned, just as Neyira jumped at him, an odd-looking blade gripped tightly in her hand.
"Didn't you learn the first time, old friend?" He crowed, side-stepping her attack and sweeping one leg out towards her, tripping her. As she went down, Lethean swung Shadowfrost in an arced strike, but was mildly surprised as holy magicks stopped his blow. Nevertheless, Neyira slammed into the ground, the blade flying from her hand. Lethean waved a hand towards her, stripping her of her shields and imprisoning her in the same dark chains he'd used on the mage.
He then turned to Ian, who was swiftly recovering from his earlier blow. "You are right on one account, miserable 'hero,'" he said, the corners of his pale lips twitching up in a grin. "While my minions may not have the required tools to defeat you, I... I have just the right one to tear the soul from your body."
Though he was expressing little but sheer confidence in power, inside he was actually surprised and somewhat worried. This human is a skilled fighter, and clearly knows what he's doing...
Last edited by xMexyragosX; 2012-11-13 at 08:54 PM.
The blow to his stomach defiantly ranked up there in terms of winding him. His vision blurred and he spat some blood out to the ground as he rose to his feet. He watched as the mage was trapped in some form of dark magic, with the night elf falling to the same move shortly there after.
"What do you know about souls death knight, you are nothing but a puppet." Ian fixed his gaze on the death knight once more, and said "Oh and stop calling me hero I just came to pick a fight with someone worthy of my talent...Have you seen anyone yet?" Ian said looking around mockingly with his hand saluting on his forehead. Than almost instantly he flipped the switch and went on the attack again.
Ian lunged and darted his blade in three quick slashes, all of which the death knight blocked. Ian came at him again. Such power, Ian could not help himself from being envious. Although he would never admit it, he knew if he didn't get some aid, that this fight was going to be a rough one.
Grimgor was in awe that one single death knight was apprehending all of his comrades. He grinned as his mind succumbed more into effects of alcohol by each passing moment, he yelled "Infundere lumen!". His body caught up the holy fire, covering his body entirely with holy light, flaming, blazing around at the scourge.. He tried to focus on releasing the mage from the strangulating grip of unholy magic, but watched Neyira as she barely survived a blow that would kill otherwise, and she was caught at the same magic now too. "Trouble." he muttered and penanced his way through some ghouls to keep his sight of them. He was hesitant as to whom to help, then he saw how the human warrior cut his way through undead and exchanged blows with Lethean. "Won't make it!" Grimgor growled as he rushed towards his Jambiya laying on the ground.
Lethean chuckled. "Such skill... such mastery! Ah, but the best part... such arrogance!" Lethean allowed himself a wide grin. "You shall have your wish then, fool. I suppose 'hero' was too high for one of your stature, then?" Lethean charged Shadowfrost with power, and the runes decorating the ebony blade flared brightly. "I wouldn't use the term 'puppet.' More like... a servant. A faithful servant, willing to fight for his master, whom has already more than fulfilled his promises of power." He narrowed his glowing azure eyes. "Come then. Come and test the true might of the Scourge."
Ian laughed, somehow through all the chaos, pain, and torment he found himself having fun. He was living in the most visceral sense possible and was loving it. He let out what one would take as an evil laugh and came at his looming opposition, catching one ghoul on the unsheathing of his blade quickly turning into a spinning back flip behind another ghoul smashing his skull in with the hilt of his blade.The light tint of crimson in his eyes seemed to be glowing due to the random fires covering the planes of war. He knew that this, this battle is what he had been waiting for.
"I want to thank you death knight, ironically I have never felt more alive!", charging directly at his foe, Ian braced for the inevitable clash of steel on steel. Then it rang out blow for blow the two warriors matched each other in a blur of swordsmanship and demonic magic. The death knights great sword slide across his left cheek. Had he been a few inches the other direction it would have most certainly met death, instead he would have a horrible gash, with blood seeping out of it. As soon as the wound opened he felt the warriors hate poor into it, burning, agonizing, and festering.
Lethean drew back, reveling in the bloodshed. Shadowfrost's edge was smeared with crimson, and he felt the energy soar through him. It was a pitiful strike... but it drew blood. Slowly, he is losing this fight. "You wish to thank me? For causing you to feel what it truly is like to live?" Lethean snorted. "You're an amusing one, aren't you?" He spared a quick glance at Neyira and Darren, who were both still imprisoned. They could only watch helplessly...
Lethean spun as an Argent Crusader charged him from behind, the draenei's sword flashing swiftly through the air. Lethean side-stepped and plunged Shadowfrost into the draenei's gut. The Crusader screamed in agony as Lethean, through his runeblade, released a deadly disease into the Crusader. He ripped his sword out as the draenei collapsed, coughing. The draenei's light blue skin quickly turned pale, and his skin turned ice cold. Within moments, the Crusader rose slowly to his feet, his eyes now gloing a dark green. The now-undead draenei bent down and retrieved its sword, then turned and, with a mental command directed from Lethean, joined the fray behind the two.
Lethean turned back to Ian and smirked.
Grimgor grabbed his blade, and saw the hit Ian took. "Close." he thought to himself, but he was hopeful that the warrior held out for that long. He released a burst of energy, covering the Neyira's body, and started casting arcane magic to dispel the effects of grasping shadow on her. He was not very good at it and his focus was broken now and then, to shove off ghouls that attacked his burning body. Grasp was tougher than he anticipated and he growled while trying to break off the spell.
Ian watched the crusader get cut down in one thrust. Even with the element of surprise, The crusader stood no chance. Ian met Lethean's smirk with one of his own.
"I am starting to think you are nothing but magic tricks, something out of a bad hollow's end tale",Ian spoke softly, almost as cold as the death knight he had been fighting. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the priest doing gods know what to the enchantment. "It doesn't look like there are a lot of benefits to being turned I mean lets face it, I am going to rip that crusader apart as soon as his mindless hulk gets within eight feet of me..." He turned his back to the crusader and let him rush him. Ian took a deep breath, stepped to the side, ducked low, spin around and cut up and to the left. Starting from the hip his blade traveled through the recently turned and split him in two. Ian now had more than just his blood on him.
"What a nightmare, do you have any idea how hard it is to keep this outfit clean?", Ian said as he spit up more blood. It was looking like the gut shot did more than expected. "Tell you what big guy, its your turn'' Ian sheathed his katana and assume a defensive stance with his hand on the hilt waiting for the quick draw. It was a gamble but a most needed one. "Show me what it is that flows through your veins Scourge!"
Lethean watched expressionlessly as Ian cut down his minion in a single, masterful blow. The warrior took a defensive stance and said, "Show me what it is that flows through your veins Scourge!"
Lethean actually quirked at eyebrow at the taunt. "What? You've given up? You've accepted the fact that defeat isn't around the corner; that its already here? And so now you'll allow me a killing blow, so that when the time comes for those to sing tales of your death, it will be said that you merely came to the realization that hope is nonexistent in your case, and that you finally accepted the inevitable?" He chuckled. "I died fighting the same hopeless odds you fight now, human," he continued, pacing back and forth in front of the warrior. "I fought, and died. And when I died, I was not granted the reprieve of true death. No... I was resurrected, and forced against my will to fight for the very thing you struggle against. And when I finally broke free of the Lich King's grasp, I chose to begin anew, and fight against that which had corrupted my body and soul. Now, by my own will itself, I have sided with the 'enemy' yet again... this time because of reasons that are my own." He shook his head and stopped pacing, taking an aggressive fighter's stance. "That matters little, however. What matters if that you die, as will the rest of this pathetic lot. And when that task has been completed, the Greys shall meet their end as well." He charged himself with unholy strength, growling several spells under his breath in the Scourge tongue. His body was lined with a pulsating green aura, as Shadowfrost was as well, and the bright azure tone of his eyes faded to a dark, deathly green. The asme thing happened to the runes inscribed upon Shadowfrost's blade.
Snarling, Lethean charged Ian, Shadowfrost's tip leading the way.
Neyira, entrapped in Lethean's shadowy prison, could only watch helplessly as Lethean and Darren's newest comrade fought her old friend. They don't stand a chance... they must realize that! They have to find Aldean and retreat! She felt holy magic touch her and reached out with her consciousness, only to touch Grimgor's mind. A thoughtful, heartfelt soul, that one is. She realized that the dwarven priest was trying to break her dark bonds. She added her own strength to his, mixing Light with Shadow, working feverishly to free herself.
Darren sat suspended, dark, shadowy chains circling him. The aura of dark magic that resonated from them had overwhelmed him. He could not move, could not cast spells; he couldn't even speak. He was literally hapless and vulnerable to whatever the death knight could throw at them. He was glad Ian was putting up more of a fight, but began to feel despair as he took a hit. Thankfully, he was all right. Now though, he faced what appeared to be Lethean's full strength. To Darren's shock, Ian left himself completely open to the inevitable strike, taking a defensive stance instead of retaliating. What the hell does he think he is doing?!