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Ithalin quickly reacted to Fenris' attack and parried it with the top blade of his scythe. He let the second sword get close enough to let the warrior think it would strike home and then activated his dagger, Frost. It slid from the gauntlet with blazing fast speed and caught the sword on the blade, saronite stopping the sword from snapping the dagger. He smiled and sent a blast of frost from the tip of the parrying scythe blade before Fenris could keep moving and quickly lept back. He was about to do an overhead swipe when he found he couldn't move.
Ithalin laughed as the shaman rooted him and everyone with roots of earth and rock. These fools NEVER learn! Ithalin laughed triumphantly and looked at the shaman. "Madame, I believe you may have a dragon problem in this building." He charged up the runes on the arm of his dagger Plague, popped out the dagger, and sent a blast of Unholy and Frost so strong it would wither away a nearly-mature dragon. And that added up to wiping out a few houses.
As it happened, it took about twenty seconds for the roots to shatter, and before they could regrow, he quickly made it so his feet made a thick permafrost beneath the ground, ensuring he wouldn't be bound again. He began striding towards Fenris with a malicious grin on his face. Balastraz, kill the Shaman. If the mage sends in his dragon, leave nothing left of him.
Understood, master. These are the few perks I get in this job, I guess.
Balastraz slowly lifted himself up from his resting position and roared, running off the ledge and spreading his wings, allowing himself to be swept up on the winds of Deepholm. He glided towards the temple and, upon reaching the doorway, began to hover by flapping his wings.
And for the first time in years, Balastraz spoke. It was a booming, but icy cold voice, demanding attention and striking fear at the same time. "YOU WOULD INTERRUPT A DUEL OF HONORABLE COMBAT, THE VERY THING YOU MOCKED MY MASTER FOR NOT DOING?!" He let off another roar, which also echoed around the chamber. "DIE, PUNY DWARF! YOU WILL NOT SEE AZEROTH AGAIN!" He dove at the dwarf, jaws spread wide enough to swallow a Kodo flying swiftly at the orc.
Ithalin was pleased at Balastraz's entrance. It would keep the others off their toes. He stayed just out of sword range and prepared himself for his next attack. It had, when Ithalin chose to use his scythe under the service of the Lich King, been the downfall of many a great commander. He quickly stepped into sword (and scythe) range and, using his Unholy runes, increased the strength of his Plague arm and made a quick overhead slash, using the scythe like a sword. He expected Fenris to use this to parry with one blade and then quickly stab the other.
Knowing this, Ithalin did the second move, mid-way through the swipe, Ithalin quickly changed his hand and reversed the swipe, now sending the bottom blade speeding up towards Fenris' chin. Capatalizing on the fact the move would most likely trip up Fenris, and his increased strength in one arm, Ithalin took his Frosthand off the scythe and slid out the dagger to send out three quick blasts, one at each knee and one at the face of Fenris.
Edited by Ithalin on 1/11/2012 6:52 PM PST
“Do not dare speak about my daughter you filth. She is with Elune, you are destined to an eternity of nothingness.” She said. Although it did not affect much as soon the human, who turned into a worgen, attacked the traitorous death knight. She watched as words turned into combat and soon a shaman of the earthen ring was attempting to stop the fight.
Then Ithalin called in his abomination of a dragon. The rotting beast went to attack the shamaness. “There is only one thing to do to stop this.” She said to herself. Ithalin’s back was turned to her and she had the advantage. She aimed her bow in such a way that even if Ithalin did dodge it somehow, it would not hit the worgen on the other side. She took aim and fired an arrow at the Death knight’s back. This was followed be another.
Ein decided to assume that Fenris had the situation with Frosthand well in hand. The undead proto-drake, however, was another matter: a formidable opponent, if one that had made a grievous error in its hasty attack on the shaman. Such an attack looked quite intimidating, but was deadly to the attacker if it failed. Ein leapt near the dwarf shaman and prepared to strike at the undead drake; he hadn't been fighting, so he had not been bound by the roots. When the undead drake got close enough to strike, he brought his massive two-handed runeblade over his head and brought it down in a veritable guillotine on the drake's head, exhausting the runes that he had been preparing for a strike against Ithalin. The sheer, raw power contained in the runes and released in the blow would be sufficient to blast any frost drake he had yet met into oblivion. What was more, the momentum of the drake would keep it from being able to dodge.
Ignoring the effects of the strike on Balastraz, Ein turned to Ithalin, who had pressed the attack on Fenris. The Einherjar smile mirthlessly; he considered scythes to be an inferior weapon. They relied mainly on intimidation, and an unfamiliar opponent being unable to counter it. When an opponent knew the ins and outs of them, however, they quickly turned into heavy, clumsy, pointed sticks, rather than a weapon that could devastate anywhere and any time. He struck at the Frosthand's back, using another two runes to power his runeblade in another obliteration strike.
Perfection saw Ithalin attack and roared "That's it. You pushed the boundaries. You fail to follow orders, NOW YOU PAY FOR THEM!". The Assassin ran forward and leaped into the air, but before she touched the ground, she vanished into the shadows. Seeing as Ith would be focused on Ein, Lynara and Fenris, she took the opportunity to change her claws from flame to earth and get a good distance that she could use a new ability she had been wanting to try out.
She appeared at Ith's left side, out of the way of Lynara's arrows and out reach from Ith's scythe. She already had one claw aimed to the ground and slammed it into the earth. The ground in front of her cracked and broke open before a long and sharp earth spike erupted from the ground in attempt to impale Ith's side. It shouldn't be enough to kill him, but it will most certainly cripple even the most toughest of Death Knights.
If successful, she would grin wickedly "Hows that for size, Ithalin?" she would ask, turning her free claw (her right) into a flaming claw in case he decided to try and send one of those gusts of ice her way.
Alistair looked to his left…
Alistair looked to his right…
It was quite obvious what was happening.
Everyone was going mad with chaos.
Except the very, very, very small minority.
AKA, a midget and Waralia.
A battle had already begun while he pondered all of this. A giant dragon was swooping down to eat them, the warriors had openly engaged him, and one of them happened to be a Worgen. Because there simply weren’t enough of those in the patrol already. Or Death Knights. Or nature freaks. All of them were coming out of the woodworks for their chance at a quick jab at Ithalin.
It was saddening to a degree to see people reduced to savages. Introduce a little chaos, take them out of their comfort zone, and the whole thing goes straight to hell.
You upset the plan and everything falls apart.
Interesting to say the least. Interesting to see what Mortals did, even when granted their gifts. They use it for such abuse against others.
Hypocritical maybe. He was condemning Ithalin but a moment ago and still stayed true to that word. But this, this was going too far. And out of hand too quickly.
A quick string of words left the Death Knight’s cold lips, his single blue eye closing for just a moment. Suddenly his arm burst into green flames, a sickening crackle repeating itself indefinitely as flames began to break away and fall onto the ground at his feet.
With another pop that electrified the air around him, a whip sprung forth from his hand, engulfed in the same searing green flames as the flaming appendage it spawned from. It whirled it’s way at Ithalin from behind, already coiling itself as it prepared to snake around him. After which it would whip back with amazing force, the same way any Death Knight’s deathly grip would after it had snagged it’s prey. And of course being very painful.
Alistair was all for Ithalin’s death. But this mindless violence was simply overstepping the boundaries. If he could get him out of the center of it, there was still a chance for everyone to come back to their senses. Even if it ended in a few injuries for Alistair himself.
The question was, just how good was Ithalin at combating his own magic? Now that was an interesting spin…
Malak sighed as he spun away from Ithalin’s attacks, his swords flipping effortlessly into a reverse grip again. He was now five feet away from the idiotic Death Knight when he heard the others joining in. First it was the druidess trying to tangle the Death Knight up which would be a waste of time since he was intent on killing so he knew that Waraila would either hurt herself or realize that Ithalin would need to be injured to be subdued. Then came the human warrior from early, the girl throwing herself into combat with a zeal that Malak found absolutely fascinating. A smile touched his lips as he saw the scene unfolding more and more people choosing to attack Ithalin, but that was all pushed to the side of his mind as he stared at the Dwarven shaman who had shackled his legs and the giant elemental next to her.
“Can I not have any fun at all?!” Malak said with a pout, quickly crossing his arms and sticking out his lower lip in what looked like a very feral dog’s imitation of puppy dog eyes. Fenris had used this face several times before, only in the company of his comrades but he felt that now was a suitable time to use it. “Anyway it’s not like he deserves sanctuary here!” Malak retorted to the belief that this was a sanctuary. Ithalin had not only violated the Patrol’s code but he had also violated the sanctuary of this Temple with his torture and killing. The proof had exploded in mid-air and Ithalin was not even denying it. Then a bone drake stuck its head in shouting something about honorable combat and what nought and Malak turned to see Ithalin coming at him with his scythe again.
Rolling his eyes Fenris quickly cut the roots around his feet and side-stepped Ithalin's strikes, the frost attacks slamming harmlessly into the wall and floor of the Temple. Fenris stayed on the offensive now though for others had entered the fray one of the Night Elves sent an arrow at Ithalin's back and so Fenris continued to back up, keeping a good distance between himself and Ithalin to be sure that if something happened he would be able to bring the Death Knight down or end his life if he was allowed to. "So can I kill him yet?!" Malak roared at the Patrol, hoping they now knew what Fenris knew. Ithalin would either kill them all or die in the process before they could actually try him. Then Malak noticed something, unholy wisps of energy reaching out and trying to grab at Ithalin, a smirk crossing the Worgen's face.
"It seems you're about to be caught again corpse!" Malak chortled before he let loose a bone chilling howl, one that would wake even the dead. ((Wink wink nudge nudge!))
In the couple of hours that the Patrol remained around the Temple of Earth, the members of the Sha’tari Skyguard resumed their usual duties to at least some extent. All of the mounts were returned to the resting area, save for Brent and Gretta who picked up the job of sentry, flying around the Temple in circles and ready to shout should anything hostile appear from the shadows or the cliffs surrounding the structure.
Kethrilk headed straight for the forge area with his sack of now thoroughly dead shale spiders, ignoring Lowmaine, Perfection and Lia and instead emptying the contents of his sack into a large metal box that was thrown in with the rest of the Earthern Ring’s blacksmithing supplies, labelled in the talonpriest’s scratchy handwriting with “DO NOT TOUCH”. The clusters of elementium shards, stones and gems which constituted the spider’s remains made a surprising amount of noise, betraying the presence of many more trinkets, pieces of ore and scrap and other miscellaneous junk in the box. Once that was done he pulled a worn out and water damaged notebook out of his robes and began scribbling where he stood, occasionally commenting on the blacksmithing work of the three women.
Sylvanora, surprised that Vimmi hadn’t verbally exploded at her, took her leave and made her way over to where her Wing had set up camp, only to find Barthius and Iranda standing back with confused looks as the Patrol’s members started covering up the entirety of their workspace with the Earthern Ring’s tents.
“Ah, it iz being slightly crowded in here now, yes?”
“How in Elune’s name am I supposed to get to my maps now?!” the Wing Commander didn’t even hear Iranda’s sarcastic comment, too preoccupied with trying to figure out a way to navigate through the maze of closely-packed tents to where her trestle table was on the other side of the room. She and Barzulo had been trying to map Deepholm out the entire time they had been here, but so far had only been met with little success: neither of them were cartographers, but the Earthern Ring had asked them to do the job because Sylvanora and Avielian where the second fastest moving things currently in the Plane. The shamans hadn’t even bothered asking the fastest – Kethrilk – because of his terrible handwriting.
“You know what guys, just wait for them to get settled in and we can take down the extra ones… Although I’ll say it would be interesting to see Barzulo’s reaction to being suddenly surrounded by tents when he wakes up.” Iranda chuckled at this, but Sylvanora merely sighed and shook her head. They were already inside, why need tents when there were perfectly good bedrolls right there?
Sometime later –about the same time that Turle and Lia were trying to wake Vimmi - Gretta and Brent came running in, looking quite flustered. By this point the combined efforts of Sylvanora, Iranda and Vearakus had deconstructed six of the tents, just enough to make a clear path through to the back of the room where their table and supplies were. Sylvanora was currently in the process of flinging parchment everywhere in frustration, trying to find a partially complete map which had mysteriously vanished.
“Guys, you’re not going to like this! I decided to just watch at first because the Patrol seemed to be self-policing, but they’ve broken out into a fight!”
“Whatz going on?” Iranda, currently balancing about five rolled up parchments in her arms, was the first to respond, quickly followed by Barthius.
“A fight? In here or outside?”
One more ink pot went flying into a wall before Sylvanora stopped her rampage, and the deep pitch of her voice showed that she was in no mood to be dealing with interruptions right now.
Edited by Sylvanora on 1/11/2012 11:10 PM PST
“…They had better have a fel-darned good reason for this, or are we going to have to break things up before the Ring are forced to leave the Pillar unattended long enough to do so themselves?”
“We’re going to have to do it,” Gretta’s lips curved around her tusks in an angry combination of a smirk and a grimace as she held up her axes, but it was defiantly more the latter, “one of those idiotic death knights killed Gor’hok! And gol’kosh if I have to rip this dispute apart with my bare hands, I will!”
“We must hurry, and bring Vearakus!” the wyvern stood next to her yelled in orcish, and with that they were off.
“I’m sorry?” a viridian-skinned goblin with a shaved forehead and greatly exaggerated sideburns popped his head around the side of one of the tents, eyebrows raised.
“It would appear zat your expertise iz needed outside!” Iranda grinned and daintily pointed over her shoulder at the massive leather harness and netting hanging up on the wall behind her, Sylvanora and Barthius already running (or rather, hopping in the high elf’s case) off in pursuit of Gretta and Brent.
“Ooohhh!” realisation spread across the goblins face as the Draenei set off after of her wingmates, an expression which was followed by a pointy, too-many-toothed grin as he followed after her in turn.
They came to a scene of complete chaos as they pelted down the stairs at the front of the Temple, barging past a small group of shaman who had started to take notice of what was going on and were watching in a combination of horror and awe. A good portion of the Patrol was exchanging blows with one of the knights-of-death, but already Vearakus could tell that the only reason said death knight was still alive was because they didn’t want to kill him.
“What do you want me to do?” he flexed his hands and feet, feeling the fel iron of his boots against his goblin-feet as he prepared himself for an order that he was fairly certain was already coming. It was Gretta who spoke, and judging by the waves of rage radiating of the kaldorei-flight-commander, it was probably best that it was she who gave the order rather than Sylvanora. He didn’t want to kill any allies, and in her current state there was a chance of Sylv going too far and saying not to hold back.
And besides. He wasn’t hungry right now.
“Scare them, and deal with that dae’mon drake,” the mag’har-orc started running down the rest of the steps towards the brawl and he followed as quickly as his goblin-legs could take him as she yelled at the top her lungs, “Okay! Cut it out you clefthoof-brained sow-spawn!”
That was when he plucked his polymorph spell apart, and felt a combination of relief and adrenalin as the bonds on his form disappeared and released him.
Behind Gretta, the goblin suddenly glowed and become an amorphous mass of energy, rapidly expanding and towering above the arching doorway to the Temple. Hands became taloned paws, ethereal wings sprouted from his back and a long tail erupted from his hindquarters, tipped with an insubstantial, fishtail-like rudder. His nose lengthened and expanded into a snarling snout with rows of teeth the length of an orc's arm, the sideburns turned into a spiny membrane frilling his neck and chin, and four long, crystalline horns solidified above glowing, pupil-less eyes.
All seventy-five feet and however many tonnes of Vearakus the netherdragon now stood, reared up on his hind legs above the Patrol with his wings spread for balance.
“Everyone is to drop their weapons or restrain the murder, and let Waraila deal with him! And that means you too whelp!” the last part of the comment was directed at Balastraz, his throat reverberating with a growl as he turned his head to the drake. This also had the added effect of pointing out the fact that the undead drake was only about the same size as his head.
The rest of the Skyguard had walked-slashed-limped-in-Barthius’s-case up to where Gretta was with her axes at this point, all of them deathly silent until Sylvanora spoke up.
“Seriously? Commander Spannershield goes to sleep for a few hours and you lot start infighting already?!"
Edited by Sylvanora on 1/11/2012 11:21 PM PST
Ithalin had never felt so......ALIVE. He would attack Fenris quickly and dart back, using his top-and-bottom blade design to try and catch Fenris off guard so he could quickly run up and use his daggers to fight close range. He continued sending off blasts of Unholy and Frost, hoping to catch Fenris with a blast that would slow him down and cause extreme pain. He was slashing furiously, not understanding why this damned wolf wouldn't die.
He was about to try and chain Fenris with ice when the Elune-charged arrow took him through the left lung, narrowly avoiding his heart. He quickly used his Frost runes to turn his armor and skin as hard as the ice of Northrend glacier, causing the second arrow to puncture only halfway through the hard Saronite armor. He quickly shot chains of frost at Fenris and turned to meet the huntress Lynara. "Archers and elves were always cowards. Never would fight, always chosing to stay behind their precious trees." And then Ithalin did what no true warrior would never do. He threw his weapon. The scythe left his hand at a very high speed as his Unholy arm was still being boosted by necrotic energies. The weapon was balanced and would strike home unless his target moved, which is exactly why he sent chains of frost at Lynara too, as they would reach her before the scythe.
He quickly popped out both of his daggers and was about to charge at Fenris when Perfection appeared and used her damned claw to make a massive earth spike. Ithalin dodged and rolled, and looked up at the rogue. He saw that she had one of her claws on fire, obviously trying to defend against and Frost attack. So he sent four quick blasts of Unholy energy at her and was about to signal Balastraz to attack her when he fell to his knees.
Balastraz? He asked into his mind. BALASTRAZ, ANSWER ME! Ithalin turned his head and saw that Balastraz had taken the rune-charged strike, killing him nearly instantly. He got up warily and parried Ein's attack. The cutting of Balastraz's mind from his own had stunned the Death Knight and he felt as though he was missing something in him. As he tried to press Ein back he realized what it was.
He wasn't angry. It was just....gone. Nonexsistant. He had wondered for a long time why he had so much anger, so much rage even after Arthas had left the Knights of Archerus at Light's Hope. He quickly realized that Balastraz had urged him on silently, pouring his anger at enslavement into Ithalin. He snapped off the arrow and slid it out and stepped backwards from Ein, hands in the air and daggers returned to their gauntlets. "Chain me. Kill me. I care not anymore. But let me talk to Commander Spannershield first."
Perfection was both disappointed and happy at this point. Disappointed because one of the Patrol members had gone rogue on them, and happy because she had to chance to finally be rid of a constant pest. She heard the Nether drake's booming voice and cringed, this was getting out of hand very fast. When she saw that Ith had dodged her Earth Spike and sent bolts of unholy energy at her, she quickly used her Cloak of Shadows to block the spells, each one harmlessly bouncing off her.
She got up and deactivated her claws and growled "Glade that's over....but at least we get to watch you squirm later..." she said darkly before walking back to the forge area.
((Short post is short, herpderp))
The warrior, whom had gone from actively trying to participate in the fighting to shouting at the new arrival of the Dwarven shamaness, was already peeved beyond all recognition. Seeing her cast the spell, and then feeling her legs rooted to the ground caused her to instantly shoot a look over at her and shout, "Oh, please! Please tell me you want some too, 'cuz there's plenty to go around, tubby!"
She bends down and quickly cuts the roots as the sounds of battle dance in her ears, and just as she finally finishes getting free, she hears Ithalin's formal surrender:
"Chain me. Kill me. I care not anymore. But let me talk to Commander Spannershield first."
She grimaces at the dwarven shaman that rooted her and sheathes her sword and straps her shield to her back again, all the while glaring at Bralla. "I'll remember this, fekhead. Don' think I ain't forgiven you yet for Tanaris, tubby..."
With that, the angry warrior returns to the temple to pound out her frustrations on obsidium and elementium...
“Seriously? Commander Spannershield goes to sleep for a few hours and you lot start infighting already?!"
Spannershield? Surely she couldn't mean Vimmi Spannershield could she? If so, than that meant...
Sylvanora's presence unnerves the shaman a bit from the almost positively seething aura of rage she's putting out, though the shaman can tell that this situation is not the entire cause of it. At least in her heart of hearts, she hopes so.
The agitated female human warrior walks by her and makes her statements and sentiments clear, all the while Bralla is merely annoyed. "Don' be thinkin' yer able ta talk ta me like tha' because we 'ave history, human. I'll seeya later, an ye can yell at me about Tanaris later...though ye can honestly t'ank Stawson fer that mess..." And with that, the warrior vanishes back into the temple.
Bralla releases her roots on the only captive to remain in them, the Druid, and nods once to her and states "Me apologies, Druid. I didn' fully know yer intent an' I wanted ta try to stop yer mates before any bloodshed came aboot..."
The earthen elemental next to her makes a noise halfway between a gutteral roar and tectonic plates slipping against each other, and she turns to him and grins, stating "Well Rocky, ya can go back ta sleep now. Seems like everythin's sorta under control..."
She looks warily at the Death Knight, who's hands are up in a complete gesture of surrender. Even still, something about this seems off to her...
Oh well. Time to wait for this "Commander" to show themselves...
Waraila eyed the thick earthen bonds in annoyance, whilst she had not minded aid in trying to subdue Ithalin, the fact the shamaness had interfered as she had about to capture Ithalin frustrated her. If the bonds hadn't been placed then she doubted the death knight would have been able to evade her attempt to pin him to the ground, to prevent combat from ever beginning.
As it stood, the situation had gotten far to out of hand, especially considering the work of the shaman hadn't seemed to bother Ithalin in the slightest, yet here she was still stuck in the binding. 'A few more minutes... why couldn't that dwarf have waited until he was captured before trying to secure him?' she grumbled to herself whilst trying to work out how to get out of the bonds.
She had to stop the combat somehow, before either Ithalin killed or injured a member of the patrol, or they killed him. It seemed that they were not paying attention to her words to subdue only.... and she suddenly had deep sympathy for Vimmi, having to command such as mess on a daily basis. Northrend hadn't been as bad as this... the patrol members had been far more disciplined and listened to orders.
“Subdue him, do not kill... we are not murderers like he is!” she called over the commotion, shifting her form to try to get out of the earthbinding. It didn't work, the chains of earth shifted as she did, grasping her just as tight in her feline form as they did for her true form. Fustrated she tried to bite at one of the thick cords, only to get a mouthful of rock, without so much as making any kind of significant dent in the bindings.
Around her, chaos was occurring, more and more of the patrol were disregarding her commands and were entering the fray against Ithalin. It disturbed Waraila that they were so eager to fight, perhaps because all they had known in the past few days was combat? Or was there something else? The druidess had no answers, nor could she spend time to try to work out the reasons behind what the others were doing...
There had to be a way to stop this madness, but she could think of nothing at hand that she could use in her current predicament... if she had been on Azeroth, then it was possible she could've altered the balance of nature slightly to call on strong winds to both bind Ithalin and prevent him from being attacked. In Deepholm though, there was no balance that included the wind... as a druid she was pretty much powerless to affect the landscape. This was a pure elemental plane, the province of shamans..
Wiggling her hind leg, in an attempt to loosen the bonds, she caught sight of Alistair trying to extract Ithalin from the combat, and attempt to harmlessly (well at least she thought it was harmless) subdue him only for it to fail. It seemed not everyone had disregarded what she had said, and it didn't really come as a surprise that it would be Alistair that would follow them. He had been a staunch ally in Northrend too, despite the friction between him and other members of the patrol back then.
Still it hadn't seemed to slow Ithalin down one bit, and she was beginning to dispair that they would be able to stop the death knight before others were harmed when the very loud and booming voice of a Netherdragon startled her. Turning her head she could see the huge form of Vearakus towering above everyone, as well as the shattered remains of the bone drake falling to the ground.
Just as suddenly, the earthbind loosened and released her causing Waraila to stagger as she regained her footing on the shale ground. “That interference might have prolonged this conflict... “ she growled, stalking over to where Ithalin had surrendered and glared at the death knight with pure disgust.
Edited by Waraila on 1/12/2012 5:19 PM PST
Shaking her head, Waraila shifted back to her true form and moved in an attempt to restrain Ithalin, this time, hopefully without resistance or interference. “Oh you will answer to the Commander.. and the Earthen Ring... as will all here.” she eyed the smouldering night elf near to Vearakus with a wince. She hadn't seen Sylvanora in such a towering rage before.
“Alistair” she didn't move her head, although she acknowledged the other Death Knight “I appreciate the efforts you made to try to bring this to a close without more violence. I wish this had been resolved sooner before things had gotten so far out of hand... “ she glared at Ithalin once more, before nodding to Vearakus to thank the large and imposing drake for his help.
Well tried to, she could hardly see him against the temple, he was just that large.. “Sylv, Turle went to get Spannershield.. “ she sighed at that, knowing that the gnome needed her sleep, but what else could be done under these circumstances? Vimmi was the commander of the patrol and she had the only right to decide what to do with a member who had committed murder. “Would you help find a senior shaman who isn't busy with trying to keep Azeroth in one piece” she glared at Ithalin once more as a pointed reminder that the Death Knight could have placed an entire world at risk “to oversee proceedings. He did commit this against the Ring after all.. “
She was tired, and like Spannershield needed rest... but she doubted that she would get any this day.. not until this was resolved.
"Chain me. Kill me. I care not anymore. But let me talk to Commander Spannershield first."
Without another word, Ein ceased his attack on the sorely pressed Frosthand. After all, he had been decrying the purposeless death of the orc just a bit earlier: it would be rather hypocritical to so quickly recant his words by being responsible for the demise of what could be a very valuable asset to the Patrol. Ein sheathed his runeblade on his back, leaving only his clawed gauntlets. Deciding that Balastraz could be very useful if he could be brought back from the dead (again), the Einherjar walked over to the unmoving corpse of the once-great drake. And then he started another of the rituals he learned from the Vrykul in Northrend. The drake's body was intact, at least: that was something.
Ein started chanting in the tongue of the Vrykul: harsh and guttural, cold as the snows of Northrend. A cloud of mist shot through with streaks of red seemed to seethe around him. Ein raised his Saronite-plated arms, and thick ropes of crackling energy coursed around, coalescing on his gauntlets. Every last one of his runes began glowing: whether this failed or worked, he would be unable to use his runic magic for quite some time. And then he spat the key phrase, and the thick snakes of shimmering blue shot forward into the body of Balastraz. Ein's grasp of unholy magic was weak, and he knew it: this was a brute-force approach, designed to rip the drake's soul from oblivion and force it back into the body, rather than coaxing it back, or breaking it while it still lingered. No doubt the necromancers of Acherus would be horrified at the inelegant approach, but no matter. If it worked, he would be responsible for bringing back a formidable mount, and possibly winning the loyalty of Frosthand. If it didn't, well... nothing ventured, nothing gained.
"For what it's worth," he said over his shoulder, "I vote that we spare Frosthand. He has the potential to be useful, if he can be directed in the manner we wish."
Edited by Einherrjar on 1/12/2012 5:30 PM PST
Alistair quirked his head to one side as he realized his whip had fell short of his expectations. Expectations being that it did something mildly useful. But alas, the combat had ended itself rather quickly. He barely paid attention to whatever else happened. Ithalin surrendered mere seconds after his own attempt, so it hadn’t mattered much in the first place.
Everyone traded their own threats toward the now surrendered Death Knights. Save for Waralia who took the time to actually show gratitude. Surprisingly being himself. He hadn’t expected that, but gave her a nod of recognition. Not that she would have seen it that is.
“… The Earth-” Wait, what? Something caught his eye. A stench was filling the air. Runic magic.
Alistair’s eye widened a small fraction. “DON’T.” Perhaps being the loudest he had ever raised his voice in months. He saw the other Death Knight, and knew his plan immediately.
Both of his arms shot forward, each one being encased in a green mist. Suddenly runic magic of his own crackled forward from his fingertips, looking like electricity with how it flashed, while at the same time retaining it’s dark origins in it’s appearance.
It smashed into the body of the drake, filling it’s every opening. It rooted out the rival Death Knight’s magic, and in turn clashed against in it’s attempts to dispel and undo whatever it had worked it’s way into.
Alistair was far more skilled in unholy magics, and it was clear this one was not. He was more of a warrior then anything else, so he expected it would be fairly easy to outmatch his curse.
“You fool, do not give his weapon back. Selfish greed will only end in more chaos.”
(( Doesn't justify delay with size, but it gets the job done for now ))
The hustle and bustle of Gnomeregan was (and in proper use of the word was) a unique and amazing experience, that was so very common to the people of the great Gnomish city. There were as many mechanical creations as people rushing by, and bright lights and buzzing buzzers, melodic music and laughing children. There was always some laser going off, and then a fire starting and the commotion to put it out was always unnoticed.
Vimmi Spannershield smiled, smiled because this was all before the incident. This was all before -it- happened, all before leaving home, all before embracing the life of conflict. This was when things were simple, when instead of killing your way across a field for objectives as menial as a flag, you padded your way across the kitchen for meals as meaningful as apple pie. And this mornings apple pie smelled particularly good.
Vimmi propped herself up on the doorframe as she rubbed her eyes early in the morning, hustle and bustle despite being morning, she smiled again and moved to the table. Another step forward and she extended her bare hand, her right one, back before it was turned into a machine. The beautiful scent of the apple pie reached her nose, and her fingers graced the edge of the casing and she-
Probably the only thing in the known universe that would have prevented Vimmi from arising with a weapon in her hand, was spoken. Vimmi's eyes broke open and she felt the lovely feeling of under an hours sleep, she felt her bones laughing at her, her flesh wailing and her brain filing a complaint to head office about workplace safety. Vimmi just pushed her mechanical arm into the ground and forced herself into a stand.
She did not say anything, she just pushed right -through- the tent. Of course there was an opening, but that would mean going through people, she elected it would be easier to tear through the fabric and walk out the side. The Gnome had one eye still closed as she made a beeline, not for the entrance, but for the alchemist. It was important she be able to perform basic tasks and think straight if whatever Turle had said about a Death Knight was true.
Vimmi pushed whoever was at the stall or the shop aside, sure they worked on a supply system, you didn't have to -pay- if you were working to save the world. Yet again, effort to avoid dealing with people until she was socially capable of restraint. She reached through the potions until she found a visually unique sharp yellow one. She ripped the top off and threw it down her throat, shaking her head with the taste.
“You're only suppo-”
“Shut up,” Vimmi snapped, leaving once more to the main hall where the shaman were maintaining the pillar, she grabbed one peacekeeper with one arm, and another with her other arm. She made sure not to disturb shaman holding up the world, taking only those she could, and motioning for several more to follow her.
- - -
The mechanical whirring of Vimmi's arm transforming was silenced by the tremendous roar of her arm-cannon firing off into the sky. The stairs marking the exit/entrance of the temple of the earth, upon which the Gnomish Command stood shook a little with the discharge of the mechanical limb-weapon. A piece of stone from above dislodged and crashed down next to her. Flanking her were at least four Earthen Ring peacekeepers, temple guardians. She breathed heavily, her teeth grinding louder than her arm, and to some perhaps she even seemed more intimidating than the -dragon- next to her.
“Somebody,” she spoke, taking a single step down the stairs, her words dripping with impatience and a huge amount of anger, “Explain to me...”
“What the -HELL- is going on?”
Malak jumped back further as the Skyguard showed up and started causing an even further mess to an already messy situation. He sheathed his swords as he saw Ith fall to his knees and surrender. Fenris turned away with disgust from the scene, what being would just start a fight and then end it for no reason? Why would Ithalin just say those things, it showed signs of weakness that even the torture of a helpless orc did not. "Weak, cowardly Death Knight! You should be forced to rot in wracking agony for the rest of time!" Fenris spat the words his back still turned to the scene that was playing out. He hated weakness, and cowards and Ithalin was shaping up to be the greatest of all of them.
It was only then that Fenris looked up at the Commander who had finally arrived. A frown on his face Fenris made a quick salute, his right arm crossing his chest as he slammed it against his heart. "Ithalin here decided it would be a good idea to torture and kill an innocent shaman of the Ring. We simply tried to restrain him and he decided to fight, until his pathetic drake died. Now he's all upset and sad seeking a quick death." Fenris' voice was seething with rage and hatred as he spoke to the Commander. Fenris then shrugged as he turned back to the scene before him and his frown deepened.
"You will need far stronger chains than magic to bind him. Might I suggest so obsidium or elementium shackles." Fenris' voice showed his frustration, his choler was up and his need to fight was still unsated. As he watched the human warrior walk away just as mad as he was at how abruptly the combat ended he decided he needed to go to the practice dummy. "If I'm needed I will be chopping up the target dummy..." Fenris muttered in the direction of the druidess, Waraila. She seemed level-headed and he had done nothing wrong, he had defended himself and tried to subdue Ithalin in his own way. If combat was something they eschewed in this Patrol then maybe it was not the group he had thought it was.
Fenris did not even try to shift forms, staying in his worgen form and growling the whole time as he walked past all those assembled to the target dummies stationed in one of the alcoves for practice. When he arrived Fenris did not even draw his weapons but simply beat on the thing, using one of the many martial arts forms he had mastered, letting his rage, frustration and hatred play out on the thing. He pictured faces on the dummy, faces of those who had tortured him, who he had lost and those who still tormented him. "With a savage howl Fenris jumped and double kicked the dummy, a loud cracking issuing from the stand as the dummy's body was sent flying into the stone walls of the Temple.
Fenris then paced, his breathing ragged as he let his mind wander. He needed a real enemy to fight or else he would be one very unhelpful and one very aggressive Worgen. 'Peace is a lie, there is only passion...' Fenris thought to himself as he paced, clenching and unclenching his claws over and over again.
Edited by Ashok on 1/12/2012 6:01 PM PST
Ein snarled as the other Death Knight attempted to keep him from bringing back Balastraz. You would think that a person who existed on necromantic energy would realize that an undead creature was inherently bound to whatever brought it back, but no. And what was worse, this Death Knight had clearly focused on developing necromantic magic. Ein's use of his massive stores of energy would give him the initial edge, but if Alistair kept at it long enough, his work would be undone.
It was probably a good thing for Ein that he had used up all the necessary energy in one burst. That left him able to focus his full attention on giving Balastraz enough time to revive.
"Have you considered that a lively drake is worth more to us than a decaying chunk of meat?" Ein brought out his two-handed runeblade and threw it at Alistair, spiraling end on end. It wasn't meant as a genuine attack, but if Alistair didn't dodge, it would punch right through his armor. Ein might not have access to his runic power for some time yet, but even with only his physical abilities, he was a very formidable fighter. And in the time-honored tradition of never relying on a single weapon, his twin clawed gauntlets were capable of eviscerating an abomination.
While Alistair was occupied with the runeblade throw, Ein launched a series of vicious strikes with his gauntlets. Like the throw, they were meant more distract than seriously kill. Of course, if they did wound Alistair, Ein wasn't going to shed any tears. Everyone could use a good bloodletting now and then. All the more so when he needed blood to recharge his runes. "And if it does result in a bit of chaos, so much the better." he snarled, low enough that only Alistair would hear. "We're in a war, in case you haven't noticed, and you know what they say in war. Let the Lord of Chaos reign!"
Lynara watched as both arrows hit home, only for him to try and throw his scythe at her. Dodging this would have been easy, had it not been for the chains of ice that ensnared her. Gasping she fired her arrow at the scythe as it flew in mid-air. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the arrow knocked off the scythes trajectory just enough for her to knock it further with the bladed crescent moon on the end of her bow. The enchanted weapon help true against the Death knight's weapon as it deflected the blade from her.
The Netherdrake did not help as she took aim at that beast, but then it did not attack and the Death knight had surrendered. She took a cold glare at him, keeping her bow trained as Waraila took control of the situation again. She began to walk back towards the temple as she was running dangerously low on arrows, from her count only ten remained in her quiver out of the usual two-hundred. She stopped dead in her tracks when the Death knight that struck down the undead drake attempted to raise it again.
"I agree, leave that thing dead." She said glaring at the Death knight. Then he throw his blade at Alister. "No!" She shouted shooting her still notched arrow, hitting the blade's side, deflecting it out of the way.
"Has your mind rotted as much as the other ones?!" She asked taking aim with her bow.
Edited by Distopia on 1/12/2012 6:15 PM PST
Grish watched the rather short fight progress, mentally struggling against both himself, and Vi.
He shouldn't be allowed to live. The feral side of him said.
No. Let the others do what they can. There are other things you are needed for. Vi retorted.
Give in. Kill him, you know you want to.
No! Don't give in. Remember, breathe. Control yourself.
Why control it? You will enjoy it, you know that.
Grish consciously began to breathe in and out, slowing his heartbeat and calming himself. The voice of his feral side began to recede, allowing the Druid to think about things rationally. Blinking, he let out a sigh, before taking in the scene before him once more. The undead drake had been killed, and Ithalin was surrendering.
'That was quick.' Grish thought, shaking his head and walking over to the man. With a flick of his wrist, the one remaining armband of kelp slithered out, wrapping itself around the wrists of the Death Knight, binding them. The plants shivered at the contact with the man, seeming to wither slightly, but otherwise acted normally.
"There. Those should hold for a short time. War, he's yours to take care of, unless the commander wakes up." Grish said, before looking up as the two other Death Knights began to battle each other over what to do with the drake. Brow furrowed, teeth bared in a snarl, the Druid stalked over to the corpse of the creature, glaring at both Death Knights. "Enough!" He snarled "I won't stand for you bringing this creature back, or fighting over it like a prize!" Glowing green magic shot out from his hands, weaker than normal but enough to help. The magic worked to remove the runic power that the other two used, struggling against the tireless Death Knights.
He ignored the yelling of the Commander as she arrived, instead concerned with the drake.
Vi, however, immediately began to speak to the Gnome.
Oh good, you're here. She said
Ithalin killed one of the Shamans, an Orc. The others became angry, and tried to subdue him. He and his drake fought, but once the drake died Ithalin just gave up. Also, please keep that other Death Knight from trying to raise the drake. I'm sure Grish would appreciate it. Her words poured into the commander's mind, slower than her conversations with Grish so the Gnome could understand her, though still quite fast.
At the same time, the spirit had split her focus to work at severing the bonds that Einherrjar had started. She also kept up a constant stream of chatter into his mind, trying to disrupt his concentration.
Edited by Grishmak on 1/12/2012 6:19 PM PST
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