(RP) Snowy Days
"I died soon after the Scourge killed my people and my beloved. But I was raised too late. In all the lives I have taken under his influence and even under the banner of the Ebon Blade..." he look at his hand and slowly clenched it. "I have felt nothing but the void and a sadness in having that void. Seeing my own children at the gates of Ice Crown ready to avenge our people did not give me pride. And seeing my beloved twisted into a horror under the Lich King's grasp did not rile my stomach nor stir my heart. It was as easy to fight her as it was any other."
"In the end, I can still see my son's hatred in his eyes as his arrows pierced his mother's undead corpse. And I still feel nothing more than slight interest."
"If this Hell is my life, then I'll be damned if I let it beat me."
Beckoning to the barkeeper, she took the key to her room from him but made no move to rise.
"Perhaps instead of searching frantically for mementos of a life that doesn't exist anymore, you should concentrate on what is and is to be. If you dig too deep, you'll find just exactly how far you've fallen. And if you've had any hell like my contemporaries..." He held his gaze upon he and enunciation, "you will regret your memories."
"I have abandoned all titles from my former life and my former enslavement in lieu of a destiny that I shall carve anew. I am merely Anastasus."
Shaking her head, she flexed her hand, watching the light catch on her rings and the streaked crystal.
"Regardless, unless we search for something, we will have no purpose except war. Such a concept does not bother me, though. It merely bores me to have such a wasted existence."
"It's nights like tonight that I find solace in knowing that I think I have made the best of what I have been set."
Cold, not that I was overtly aware of it, but the living members of the group seemed to be uncomfortable. The Horde and the Alliance were preparing to fight, together, against the Lich King's forces. Highlord Bolvar roars as he led us in a charge into the undead.
"Back, you mindless wretches!" he screamed. We were fighting hard, and gaining ground, when the gates opened and Scourge vrykul, shouting in their native tongue, charged out as the lesser undead fell back.
"Fight on, brothers!" Came Fordragon's call.
In the distance, I heard Dranosh Saurfang yelling to the Horde, "Rise up, sons of the Horde! Blood and glory await us!"
Bolvar and Saufang fought side-by-bide, as did the two factions. Once the vrykul forces were dispatched, Bolvar and Dranosh approached the gate with their combined army grouped together behind them. Dranosh glanced at Bolvar, apparently giving him the lead to speak.
"Arthas! The blood of your father, of your people, demands justice! Come forth, coward, and answer for your crimes!" The gate rumbled and open again as Dranosh growled, revealing the Lich King, Frostmourne in hand. The menacing figure ignited something in me, the days, weeks, I spent training under him, it all seemed to me that it might come down to this day.
In a harsh, echoing voice, the undead ruler said, "You speak of justice? Of cowardice? I will show you the justice of the grave and the true meaning of fear." As the Lich King approached us, undead legions rose behind him.
Saurfang leaped at the Lich King, and the Lich King swung Frostmourne, killing the orc instantly. We could only watch in horror as his body fell to the ground, Frostmourne consuming the soul of the slain orc. When Bolvar next spoke, there was no mistaking the seething anger in his voice. "You will pay for all the lives you've stolen, traitor."
"Boldly stated, but there is nothing you can—What?"
An explosion nearby threw me to the ground, accompanied by screams of pain behind around me. Dimly, I heard laughter emanating from the heights. I heard the cold tones of Apothecary Putress speaking, but the words seemed to make no sense. As if from a great distance I heard Bolvar calling out a retreat, but I could not make my limbs cooperate.
I lay there, in the midst of the plague clouds, slipping in and out of awareness for what can't have been more than fifteen minutes, but I'm not sure. The next thing I recall with certainty is a man, appearing through the green clouds, and lifting me. Carrying me out of the diseased hell.
"...I woke up in Dalaran some hours later, the man still sitting there. Tristan. Something seemed to...fit together between us. Lust, need, guilt, fear, there is some sort of mutual understanding between us still." Laughing, she shook her head and took a long drink of her ale.
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