Olaf crashed into a tree, his right hand was forced off the wound in his stomach in order to keep him standing with the aid of the tree, from the wound his blood now flowed freely, dripping down his chain mail armor. He groaned as he tried to move his left arm to cover the wound but it simply hung limply down his side, his shield still strapped around his now broken arm. He leaned against the tree with his back as he pushed against the wound again with his right hand, it was soaked in blood. Olaf took a couple of rasping breaths before he spat to his right, the spit was more blood than spit, it splattered against a nearby stone. With a loud thump his legs gave up and he violently sat down on the ground next to the tree.
Olaf starred upwards at the trees majestic crown of leafs, a small gust of wind made them move. The view was calm in a strange way, no screaming no clashing steel. How long had it been since he had felt this way? A series of coughs brought him out of his calm full thinking and back to the serious wound on his stomach, he ripped some cloth from his undershirt and pushed it against the wound. On weak legs he forced himself up supported by the tree, stumbling he continued his walk through the forest, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He had to continue, but where would he go? Where?
His legs gave up on him again and this time there were no tree to stop his fall, he smashed face first into the ground, the blow clouded his eyes and his mind quickly faded into unconsciousness.
The woods were quiet this day. Though it could be there was little life in these forests, it could also be due to the fact that a cloaked and armored man, seeping of dark magic, was walking through the forest. Hunting. The Howling Fjord wasn't the best place for what he was doing, but Acnoctus needed blood. It was good then that he had found a trail of the stuff fairly quickly, though it was but a few drops on the grass and fallen leaves. Though it would not sate his blade's need as much as a fresh kill would, it was a fine appetizer. His runeblade in hand, its tip hovering but an inch above the ground, he followed the trail, absorbing the fallen blood as he walked.
It took him about an hour to reach the source, a vrykul. He knew of them from his time in Northrend while in the grip of the Scourge. They were fierce warriors who took pride in their honor. This one looked weak, his face in the dirt unconscious, yet he still appeared to be breathing. The death knight assumed that he was injured by one of his own and banished from their clan. Acnoctus contemplated just killing the creature to sate his blade, but no... he had a better idea. Noxvari had that paladin turned Forsaken. He wanted a minion of his own, and it would be interesting to bind this vrykul to his will.
But the creature was still bleeding. The death knight would have to help nurse this vrykul back to health. Not that terrible of a down payment. Acnoctus went around, gathering brush, sticks, and thicker pieces of wood, his training from when he was in the Thallassian military coming back to him instantly. The undead elf had quickly built a fire near where the proverbial giant lay. Taking a knife from the vrykul's belt, he placed the blade in the fire. It heated quickly and without fear of injuring himself Acnoctus took the blade out and with great strength pushed the vrykul onto his back. There was a gash through his mail armor. Acnoctus had some difficulty but he managed to remove the shirt of metal rings. He then placed the flat of the dagger into the wound. There was a hissing sound as the blade cauterized the flesh, stopping the bleeding. He quickly reheated the blade and repeated this process until the entire wound was burnt. It was then that he noticed the broken arm. Taking his traveling cloak and some extra wood he had scavenged, he fashioned a splint for the ruined appendage. He then propped the warrior up against a nearby tree and sat down next to the fire. He had done what he could. Either his blade would satiate its thirst, or he would gain a new ally. Only time would tell.
Last edited by The Mister Madgod; 2013-03-09 at 06:51 AM.
Olaf awoke, his body tired beyond what he ever could ever have considered possible. Just to open his eyes seemed like a task comparable with running around with a huge boulder on his back. At first he had trouble focusing his gaze, taking more than a few seconds in order for him to see anything but a complete blur. His right hand moved carefully to his stomach finding the crudely fused together wound, as his fingers traveled over it surges of pain emitted from it making him gasp. Someone must have taken care of him as he saw his left arm had been put into a splint.
Sound returned to his ears as he heard the familiar sound of a sparkling fire, he raised his eyes away from his broken arm towards the sound. Next to the fire a figure sat, it took another few seconds before he could clearly make it out. The figure was smaller than a Vyrkul, One of the abominations! The thought burst through his skull and with his free right arm he reached to his side where his axe should have hung, but did not anymore. The memory of his previous battle which had given him these wounds came back to him, that axe was probably someones else property now. Wait, that creature got too long ears to be one of the abominations. An elf? He harbored little concern for elf but they were at least not abominations. He was too tired to even think of fighting so with a dry voice he spoke. Who are you elf? The thought crossed his mind if he might be able to take the elf on even with how severely beaten his body were, his eyes traveled around the quickly made camp to keep a watch for more elfs.
It was several hours after Acnoctus had made the fire when the vrykul woke. The death knight heard the vrykul's movements, but left him alone. The creature was weak, and while what he did was compassionate, Acnoctus wasn't really the sort of person to dote upon people. When the vrykul wanted to talk, he would respond. Not a moment sooner.
That time came fairly quickly. Looking up from the fire at the "I am Commander Acnoctus Shadowspire, death knight of the Ebon Blade and soldier of the Forsaken."
Olaf listened to the elf whom introduced himself as Commander Acnoctus Shadowspire. Commander, a leader among his kin? Olaf's eyes was drawn to the elfs large claymore. He felt uncomfortable not having his weapons. Forsaken, your one of those that refused the leadership of the Lord of Death. Olaf coughed, getting the taste of blood in his mouth once again. Does this not make us enemies Commander Acnoctus?
"Considering I just saved your life, no. And considering the state I found you in," said the death knight, looking the vrykul over, "I doubt you could really follow through on that fact as your honor would demand."
Rather to the point, this vrykul. Of course, so was Acnoctus. An interesting common point. "I've told you my name. Tell me yours."
Even a wounded beast can still rip out your throat if your careless Commander Acnotcus. Olaf gave the elf a faint smile. My name is Olaf son of Sten and your right, I would greatly dishonor myself if I were to attack my savior. You have my thanks elf for saving my life, I am in your debt. Olaf used his right arm to adjust his sitting position into one of more comfort against the tree. You have to forgive my forwardness, but its not common to see your kind in these parts of late. What are you doing here?
Well, things were looking up for me, thought the death knight. Looks like he wouldn't have to murder this broken sack of flesh yet after all. Deciding that being too friendly with this Olaf wouldn't really be the best idea. It could be construed as a sign of weakness. Still, he DID need to find more power for his runeblade. This vrykul might prove useful in that regard. "My business is my own... but perhaps you could help me with my endeavors. I require blood."
Olaf's eyes narrowed as he heard the elfs request, this creature might have saved his life for now but Olaf didn't really find the idea of that large claymore cutting through him pleasant. When he thought about it this elfs appearance and weapon was that off a death knight, death knights were scary creatures blessed by the Death Lord. If he wanted me to take my blood for whatever weird ritual he is up to he wouldn't have patched you up. Olaf scratched his beard Blood you say? If it will repay my debt to you I will assist you, though if you want my blood your better off to collect what I have already lost on the ground
"I already have." said Acnoctus, motioning to the trail the vrykul had made, where not a drop of blood could be seen. "No if I wanted any more of your blood, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You were weak, and my blade prefers that its feasts have a bit more fight in them before they succumb to its bite."
Of course, he still needed the blood. The death knight reflected on the vrykul's wounds. They weren't inflicted by a mere beast. No those injuries were caused by fellow vrykul. Perhaps that would be the way for this creature to fully become loyal to him; the destruction of his clansmen and the taste of sweet revenge would surely sway Olaf over permanently. "Tell me," said Acnoctus, nodding towards the vrykul's bandage and scar, "where did you get those wounds?"
Last edited by The Mister Madgod; 2013-03-12 at 02:43 PM.
Olaf looked with surprise towards the way he had came stumbling earlier, not a single drop of blood still could be seen on the ground.
Olaf chuckled at the elfs question, his right hand combed its way through his thick beard. My wound? There was a dispute regarding leadership, It would appear I was on the losing side.
Olaf let out a heavy sigh as his own words sunk into his mind and what it truly meant, he no longer had a place where he belonged. His voice was much lower as he spoke again. But what does it matter anymore... It would have been better if I had fallen in honorable combat instead of surviving like a rat... Olaf looked up towards the tree crowns as he went silent.
The undead elf nodded. Well, if this wasn't just perfect. "It seems... like we could both have something to gain. said Acnoctus, grinning. "Take me to your village. Your former allies will quake in fear and you shall regain your honor through their death."
The elfs words seemed to reawake the flame of life in Olaf's eyes. Yes, he is right. To lay here and await death would be an even greater shame. One last battle, one last glorious struggle for life and death! Olaf looked over at Acnoctus, the elfs grin seemed to be contagious as he felt his own face break out in a grin. I accept your offer, If your so interested in dying together with me I will lead you there. If you got a weapon to spare we can leave immediately. Olaf groaned as he tried to get up from the ground, but the wound in his stomach sent waves of pain throughout his body. Hmm, Could you give me a hand?
The elf chuckled darkly as he extended a hand to pull up the vrykul. "Oh I have no intention of dying on this day."[
After hauling the giant to his feet, Acnoctus began concentrating his magics. Northrend was the source of his power, as it was for all death knights. Being closer to Icecrown had given his unholy magics a significant boost. It took several minutes, but the death knight was able to create a greatsword made entirely of ice. Though, it was not merely ice. This was ice imbued with the dark magic of the Scourge, given to the Ebon Blade by the Lich King himself, before the death knights broke free and decided to wield those dark magics for themselves and not the fallen prince of Lordaeron. Holding the blade out to Olaf, Acnoctus said, "This should suffice."
Olaf gripped the sword of ice, it was cold but had a nice weight to it. He grinned at the elf, finaly having a weapon in his hands made him feel more at home.
Not until now had he actually stood right next to the elf seeing the great size difference between the two, the elf had a pathetic stature and Olaf could probably snap his neck without even trying. Yet there was something about the elf that seemed to radiate, a feeling of sorts. Something that told him that this elf was not to be underestimated. His grin had washed away but was quickly replaced by a new one. Lets go then Commander Acnoctus, I would like to feed the earth more blood than just my own With large steps Olaf walked away through the forest towards the village he had not so long ago suffered defeat and been wounded at.
It didn't take the two long before they reached the Vyrkul village, the sky had already begun to darken even so. It was a small village, not more than seven houses stood in a small circle, in the middle a bonfire was burning brightly. Olaf stood at the edge of the forest looking into the ravaged village. There still lay a few corpses here and there, from around the bonfire laughter could be heard. Olaf let out a sigh of relief It appears some stayed behind probably to burn the corpses and take whatever good things there was left. Olaf huddled himself together as good as he could and started sneaking towards the village and the bonfire, though considering how loud the ones at the fire were they had probably had a few mugs already. As he got closer he could see five figures sitting around the fire. He casually picked up a one-handed axe when he sneaked past a fallen Vyrkul. He gave the elf a smile as he whispered Try to give them a decent fight at least He lunged the axe, which spun through the air gracefully before planting itself in the back of the closest Vyrkul. Olaf let out a wild roar as he charged forth towards the surprised Vyrkul. The one that had been hit in the back screamed in pain as his hands tried to reach for the axe stuck in him. Three of them seemed to be stunned by the whole ordeal and were still sitting with mugs in their hands, but the last one jumped straight up grabbing a shied and preparing to face Olaf.
The two clashed, Olaf new sword of ice chopped into his opponents shield repeatably. The enemy jumped forward with his shield held high trying to smash Olaf down, Olaf wouldn't be able to swing his sword effectively and instead used his shoulder to tackle the other one away. Pain surged through his whole body as he felt the impact, it made him stagger backwards. He had forgotten his left arm was broken, his opponent quickly utilized this charging again slamming into the unbalanced Olaf. Olaf hit the ground hard, feeling the air being pushed out of his lungs.
It took little time for the pair to reach the vrykul's village. Acnoctus noted how low the village had fallen since the destruction of the Lich King. There was corpses littered around. The buildings were worn. It was definitely within its twilight years, if not hours.
The death knight merely nodded at Olaf's little comment. The giant quickly went into combat, and the elf eagerly followed. While Olaf was busy with one, Acnoctus began to deal with the other three. Charging in, he brought Xal’Theros down on one, creating a large gaping wound from his left shoulder to the edge of his armored belt. The vrykul was not expecting such a powerful blow and fell instantly. Taking a hand off of his runeblade's hilt, Acnoctus clawed upward in the air. Thick globes of blood crept out of the fallen creature's wound and began to float in the air. The other two vrykul hesitated, watching in horror. The death knight then brought Xal'Theros closer to the now unified globe. The runes along its side glowed bright as it absorbed a large portion of the blood. Finally, the runeblade was sated.
Any blood left over from the ritual could be found floating around Acnoctus, as he changed his stance. With a smirk, he motioned at the vryku, urging them to attack. While his blade was sated, the death knight could not truly say that he had his own fill of death that day.
Last edited by The Mister Madgod; 2013-03-26 at 05:10 AM.
Olaf felt groggy as he tried to get his eyes to focus once more after hiting the ground, he must have banged his head when he crashed down or something. He was gasped for air as he felt a heavy body land on top of him, forcing the little remaining air in his lungs to rush out of him. A pair of strong hands gripped around Olaf's throat, if his left arm had been working he could easily have pushed his opponent off but now he could barely move it. With his working arm he punched against his opponent aiming at where he thought his face should be, he hit something. Yet his attacker didn't even ease his grip but instead squeezed harder. Olaf's vision was becoming blurry and his body felt limp. He punched another time, putting all strength he could muster into the blow, now it showed some result as his opponent moved one hand away from his throat to block his punches but Olaf was quicker delivering a third blow to his opponents face before he could have a chance to block.
His opponent now removed his last hand that gripped around Olaf's throat, with it he punched him instead in the face. The blow made Olaf's head ring, his enemy tried to strike again but now Olaf jerked his head upwards and opening his mouth biting down on his enemies fist. Olaf bit with his whole might, tasting the enemies blood in his mouth encouraged him. Olaf went into a state of berserk, all pain that he had felt just moments ago seemed to be pushed back by a wall of rage. He delivered a quick spree of punches into his enemies side making the Vyrkul fall off him. Olaf didn't allow his opponent to recover but rolled over at him, the two Vyrkul rolled around for a few seconds before Olaf was able to pin the other Vyrkul down. Next to the two Vyrkul's Olaf spotted the sword of Ice that Commander Acnoctus had granted him, he swept it up and with a swift motion cut straight through his enemies throat and severed his neck. He retracted the sword only to stab it down once more.
Olaf looked up from the dead Vyrkul to see how the undead elf was doing, his eyes widened by what he saw.
"We'll have your head and your entrails shall be paraded through the North!" shouted one of the two remaining vrykul as he charged the death knight. They were caught unaware this time. It wouldn't be as (pitifully) easy to kill them. The first brought his axe down, a move that would have killed any man, but a globe of blood moved from its position where it was floating almost serenely to block the blade, sending it crashing down into the earth at an angle.
Never one to waste an opportunity, Acnoctus' blade let off a dark light as he slashed downward to make a deep cut into the vrykul's calf. The wound began to immediately fester, plagued by the death knight's slash. Growling in empathy, the second vrykul came at the elf with a blade almost as long as the vrykul was tall. Yet again, blood came to deflect the blade, but it failed, painting the ground a dark orange as the blade cut through it like it wasn't even there. The death knight reacted quickly, jumping aside, but not quick enough to escape the blade. His arm was caught and though he was undead Acnoctus registered pain as his bones were shattered.
He retaliated swiftly. He brought his broken arm down in a horizontal swing and the wind howled. It screeched louder than was natural as it blew towards the vrykul. Wind became ice and the giant was pierced from head to toe by the shards. His attention returned to the original vrykul, who had begun to suffer greatly from his wound. He was pale. He shook like a man from the southern lands experiencing his first winter. He manged to bring his axe up and began to bring it down. It was easily parried by the elf, who flicked his blade lazily and disarmed the giant. Not really caring to play with him any longer, he ran his blade through the vrykul's guts. Placing a foot on the soon-to-be corpse, he kicked the man off of his blade, letting him fall in a heap onto the cold ground.
it was truly a sight to behold, the elf moved with expertise and a deadly calm as he cut down his Vyrkul opponents. That feeling he had sensed from the elf earlier where now intensified, this elf was not someone to be taken lightly. A single thought festered in Olaf's mind as he saw this display of awe inspiring power Could this elf kill him with ease even if he was in his prime condition? The thought filled him with fear for the elf as well as respect. On slightly unsteady legs Olaf rose up, his eyes never leaving the elven death knight. Olaf walked towards Acnoctus stopping a couple of feat away before sinking down with his right knee against the cold ground.
There was no point in even dreaming off returning to his own kin, those who he had called friends were dead but this elf was worthy to follow. He felt the need to see what more this death knight could achieve. May I swear my locality to you, my king? He looked up at the elf, feeling how a drop of blood made its way down his face into the corner of his mouth. He grinned as the taste of his own blood filled his mouth. If it ever came to it that this elf would become weak and unworthy to lead, I will show him a Vyrkul's way of revoking their mistakes