The dreary atmosphere of the Dustwind Pass would be enough to discourage anyone from visiting the newly renovated Karazhan Resort. As Sydric rode his steed down the winding trail he mused aloud to no one in particular. "The days grow dreary...life... or what the Lich King bestowed on me...grows repetitive and unexciting. Kill more of these, Sydric...kill all of those Sydric...is it a never ending struggle to destroy all life? Perhaps I am under the influence of Arthas still. I cannot stop killing, the pain would drive me into a state of madness. But what can I do?" his cold voice echoed from the nearly faceless helm he wore.
"This invitation came as a surprise. What is it that the person who took over the old Keep wants to accomplish? I can imagine only one thing anyone wants from a death knight...they want me to kill someone or even several someones...I will find out when I get there...I am sure." he shook his head and spurred the deathsteed faster.
The armor that he wore was dark and worn. Dings and scratches marred the surface where countless swords, axes and even crossbow bolts had tried to penetrate the plated armor. The twin axes across his back gleamed however as he took great pride in making sure they were sharp and deadly. Runes of power danced on their gleaming surfaces. Sydric was not given to granting mercy, unless you counted the swift death he dealt without a single thought of remorse.
The innocents in countless Barrens huts and out of the way cabins and shelters were prey to his endless hunger. It mattered not to him if they were young or old. He relished a fight to the death. Countless duels had honed his skills and made him who he was. He was not always victorious. But he knew when to back off and wait for another opportunity to move in.
War sustained him, fed his hunger and made him sadistic and cruel. He was not always the one who led the glorious charge. He was the one they kept at the back...to put down the injured and the dying enemies, before the healers could save them.
The only thing that had ever slowed him down was love of a human woman. The ironic part of him that knew better had proven true. She had been so young and naive. A mage with growing power, sweet and innocent. But her innocense was short lived and her father soon discovered their secret trysts. A powerful paladin who had killed the young Sindorei without a second thought. Arthas' minions had found his corpse and taken him to Acherus.
Now he spent his days and nights killing and reaping the souls of the dead like candy. Raising them to do his bidding. How low he had become...his time on this plane was soon to end.
Edited by Sydric on 5/13/13 10:09 PM (PDT)
Vira Haldeman was a priestess of the Light. A human woman who was known for her compassion and skills. Her long blonde hair had strands of silver from many years of stress and training. By all accounts in the Church of the Holy Light, she was as pious as they come. She was celibate, a true Sister of mercy who sacrificed her womanhood for the good of the people. Striving to present a good example of love and devotion to the Light. "Forty years of service, I can't believe it...where has the time gone?"
Somewhere along the road to her current status something happened. The details were never discovered. But a rumor of a sordid affair between her and a high ranking official of the Church ended his career and he had taken his own life. Some blamed Vira outright for leading the man on. Others said it was a frame up and she was innocent of any wrong doing. If asked she would become furious and chastise the person for spreading lies.
But Vira knew the truth and she was not telling anyone. Did the Cardinal really have an affair? Was it with Vira or someone else? Who was covering up for who? All anyone knew was that he had died rather than setting the record straight.
After years of putting up with the lies, as she called them, she decided to take a long overdue vacation. Her choice of the Karazhan Resort would have seemed an odd choice to some. The advertised prices kept most people wondering who on the planet wanted to stay in a haunted mansion anyway! She never told anyone she was going there, she wanted privacy and to get away from the gossip. "Out of sight, out of mind." she thought.
The dusty road was something new to her. She had never gone this way before. The rented horse was skittish and jumped at every shadow. "Settle down you cursed animal. You are not fit for anything but the glue factory! Why didn't I ride the carriage? Save a few dollars, for what? Not like I don't already have everything I need...except maybe peace of mind. Wonder where you buy that?" she chuckled to herself as the horse finally settled down to a slow walk. At least it was better than a jumpy snorting scared horse with no sense.
Victor Cross stood alone amidst the grey, dead wasteland that was the Deadwind Pass. The apparently aging human took in a deep breath of the dry, dusty air and seemed to contemplate the distant tower. From his perch atop the Pass' overlooking cliffs, Victor could see the men and women, few though they may have been, that traveled through the desolate place.
Running a hand through his short black hair- grey now along the edges with some grey peppering- Victor considered teleporting back to his home, the Undercity. Back to the stench of rot and death that brought happy thoughts of a time long gone. Back to his friend, Marella, and her familiar presence. Perhaps at some point in his life it would have seemed odd, if not outright mad, to keep company with something that was no longer living and yet still lingered on. But, as with the better times, that point of his life was nothing but a distant memory.
His cold grey eyes- the skin around them lined and shadowed from stress and lack of sleep- narrowed to make out the Karazhan Resort. Coming here had been a hard decision. The journey was long and went through some dangerous lands. But Victor had been drawn in by the allure of investigating Karazhan, where Medivh, the Last Guardian, had made final stand. What artifacts were stored there? What magics were at work? What spirits still made the place their home? For all his life, Victor had risked everything in the pursuit of knowledge. He had not only damned himself, but his family and friends as well. It was he who had risen Marella from death, for nothing but to know what would occur. No price was too great.
"Not quite everything." he silently reminded himself. "Not my life." What a fool he had been, to deny the Lich King his life. That was why he'd been forced to leave the Scourge and go begging to the Banshee Queen. Marella had been of great use for that.
His life might have ended then, had it not been for his use to Sylvanas. She knew how much she needed necromancers loyal to her. Her people were undead, with no way to reproduce. Without people like Victor, her kingdom would have turned to dust long ago. And so, he had proven himself loyal to the Dark Lady and continued his pursuit of knowledge, becoming invaluable to his Queen. Victor would have betrayed her in turn if he had to, but he was secretly glad that it hadn't come to that. He'd grown quite fond of Marella, and she was too devout a follower to leave the Forsaken, no matter the reason.
Rousing himself from his nostalgia, Victor drew a small feather from his pack, muttering and incantation. When he finished speaking, the feather disappeared. At the same time, his legs were suddenly relieved of their burden, leaving him to feel as light as the feather that had just vanished. Finally finished with the Slow Fall spell, Victor moved back from the edge and then ran forward, flying through the air. Instead of plummeting to his death, however, he lightly floated down, keeping the momentum from his run. A few minutes later he landed, staggering slightly. A dull pain arrived in his kneecap that didn’t seem inclined to fade away. He frowned. “The symptoms are arriving faster than I anticipated. The early signs of age were to be expected, but this is worse than I thought.”
In truth, Victor- despite his apparent age- was barely past thirty years. What he was experiencing were the consequences of wielding necromantic magics. If allowed to progress- which was unavoidable- he would wither away before he surpassed forty years. Another reason why he despised himself for refusing the gift of Undeath.
Victor pushed away these troubling thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. Karazhan loomed before him, and the possibilities were endless.
Reyara Leafblade, infamous daughter of Sentinel Captain Lynara Leafblade road her violet hippogryph over Duskwood. She didn’t know what humans complained about the forest. It was dark and gloomy sure, but something about it just seemed right to her. She was heading for Karazhan. It was an interesting idea, to take the fortress of the last guardian and turn it into a resort; a place to get away from the rest of the world.
“You always were a sucker for someone overcompensating.” Ceyara said in Reyara’s mind. Reyara’s other self-made herself known again. “You know no matter what you do the name will always follow you. Our own mother banished us.” Ceyara said.
“It was an accident!” Reyara said angrily. She didn’t like talking about the incident. Or the ones that followed.
“Oh by the Goddess you know that is a lie. You don’t accidently murder people in that way. Reyara, you enjoyed torturing them. I know. Every moment you were in their minds it was like bliss for us.” Ceyara said gleefully. It was a shame they died so soon though. Go ahead Reyara, bury the memories deep. Let them fester, let them rot.” Ceyara said sadistically.
Reyara knew she was right. Reyara enjoyed killing. Even though everything her mother and father taught her let her know that she shouldn’t, but she had no real care for others, only herself. Others were tools for her to further her own goals and her own amusement.
As for Karazhan, it was out of the way, and its history interested the night elf. She had been frustrated recently. She ran into her mother again and it set her blood on fire just to see her. How Reyara would have enjoyed putting the ancient elf out of her misery, something Ceyara would enjoy as well. She needed to get away from the rest of the world. She had her hippogryph lower to ground level as she approached the tower. Eventually reaching ground level just outside the main entrance.
Cornelius Blackwood reclined back in his plush chair and closed his eyes lazily. On his lap a small diary with which he wrote his business musings and transactions rested against his stomach. Opening his eyes, he gazed out across his portico and stared at the beautiful waterfalls outside of stormwind. Running a soft well-manicured hand through his graying hair he allowed the serenity of his position in life to fill him, too course through him.
Grabbing his glass and swirled the bright song wine within. As he watched the legs spindle along his perfectly crafted crystalline wineglass he picked up the worn diary and allowed it too open to a random page. Scrawled in his own messy handwriting he read an entry from just after the end of the second war.
“Always strive to seek the opportunity in every situation, no matter how bad the situation looks, if you succeed you will have complete control of the market”
A grimace, that had nothing to do with the strength of choral of the wine, spread across his face. He had been born to nothing. His father had owned a dysfunctional logging mill. He had been clumsy, disorganized, and just a piss poor business man. When he was 18, his father was killed by a widow maker, as he foolish thought he could bring the clusterf*ck that was the multiple connected trees down safely.
He had mourned his father’s passing; he was a good man, a loving father, but he had no concept on how to run a business. That was his father’s biggest failing, it was the reason that his family had live only at subsistence, he would not make that mistake.
Though he was young, he had an incredibly keen eye for a good deal. He played on his youth, allowing his business partners to think him inexperienced, gullible even; he would make them regret those assumptions. Backroom deal, mergers, hostile takeovers, market manipulation, exploitation, all had made him what he is today, filthy rich. Nothing had stopped him, he sold anyone and anything too makes money. He took advantage of every war, every calamity, everything was just numbers too him.
Sighing too himself he looked out over his portico and something was not right. The silence was deafening, someone was here. His heart began to race as he dreaded what was about to come. All his former sins would now be atoned for. Not daring to turn around, he continued to stare out across the portico. When the finishing blow didn’t fall, he knew what had happened. Letting out a nervous chuckle he turned around.
In the corner stood a man gently resting against the polish maple wall. Dressed from head to toe in black armor, the man was no delivery boy. His relaxed posture belayed his place in life. He was a killer, but he was not here to kill today. “Lucius, you know how much I hate it when you do that…”
In a corner of his retainers foyer Lucius reclined himself in an incredibly comfortable purple satin chair, that was now stained with mud. He has spent the earlier part of the day meeting with an informant of his in the muddy shores of Crystal Lake. A group of bandits had the outrageous idea of trying to set an ambush on him. The audacity of the thought still benumbed him. NO
ONE alive could ambush the legendary, in his own conscious, rouge.
The tussle had left his jet black leather armor filthy. Mud and gore coated his person, a problem that the servants would have to deal with. According to hi informant, the alliance was preparing an invasion. Where they were invading it didn’t matter, what did matter was they would need raw materials; iron, timber, and food stuffs. Soon these commodities would be scarce, and that would be because of Cornelius.
The noise of a courier broke him from his reverie. Signing for his retainer, he grabs the note and made his way to the portico. As visible as a shadow, as silent as death; Lucius “the black” made his way through the corridors. Entering the room where Cornelius rested he found himself a corner and waited. HE loved this game of cat and mouse. The adrenaline gave the master rouge a natural high as he salivated what he could do.
Edited by Jeramayan on 5/13/13 9:04 PM (PDT)
He had been in this position so many times throughout his life. Nobleman, Clergyman, dignitaries, soldiers, woman, even an orphan; the life form mattered not, only the golden purse. He saw Cornelius stiffen, he knew he was had. However he soon realized it was him, and the game was over. With a grin Lucius spoke in a silky smooth voice, “A letter arrived for you today; spoke Lucius, something about a new resort opening in the bowls of karazhan. I thought you might find that interesting.”
As his words sank in the wheels began to spin as the implication of such an invitation sank in. This must be a startup, he would have heard about such a lucrative circumstance. Perhaps he could become a partner in this endeavor, or take it over entirely. “Lucius, find me magi, and prepare a portal we leave at once.”
An hour later the two met again in the lobby. Lucius was dressed as he always was, tight fitting black leather armor, doubtless hiding any number of hidden weapons devices and contraptions. His retainer however was dressed in a much more pedestrian manner. Though he wore what looked like a simple brown travelers robe, it was heavily modified for a man of his position in life. The coarse looking outer fabric had the finest filaments of ghost weave woven through it and was supple as moon silk. Concealed on his hip, an ornately crafted 6 shooter carved and inlaid with sterling silver. Though he looked humble, too the discerning eye, he was anything but. However Cornelius had no concerns about such an uncivilized thing as combat, He paid Lucius’ ridiculously inflated retainer fee for that.
While the pair waited for the for the magi to arrive, Lucius began to divulge in great deal all he had been told by his informant. With great detail the rouge divulged everything he had heard. Before he was able to finish however, the magi arrived and conjured their portal. One moment they were in the mansion, the next they were standing in the foreboding dead wind pass, Lucius was about to continue when he spotted the others. Eyes locked on the strangers, Cornelius began to appraise them for potential dangers. Out of the corner of his mouth he whispered, “Perhaps we shall wait until later to continue this conversation.
A sickly thin blood elf of average height with short, wild black hair sprinted down the road in the pass, eyes wide with terror. He wore a blue and black shirt and black pants covered in chain mail, with a quiver on his belt and hugging a very elven bow. Part of his armor and clothes beneath were dusty.
Kemnebi Sunrunner had been embracing his curious side and was exploring Duskwood when he happened upon some humans who were displeased with his presence and gave chase. During his flight from Duskwood he ran through a human settlement and his hawkstrider got so frightened it threw Kemnebi from its back and kept running north, taking Kem's pack and supplies with it.
Kem got to his feet and sprinted, heavy chain mail and all, running for his life. He reached into his small belt pouch, there were a few coins in his coin purse, not enough for faire home, a piece of flint, and small metal identification tags that belonged to his long deceased friend. His only friend.
He frowned deeply and remembered back then, before he had lost his ability to speak, before he had lost much of humanity, when he could better empathize with others. The scourge came upon them in Quel'thalas and he ran. She didn't see it coming in time. He got away only to see her torn limb from limb.
If he hadn't been a selfish coward he would have grabbed her hand and they both could have escaped. It was something he regretted for the rest of his life. He let the only person who was ever his friend, who liked him for him, slip away. He met others who cared about him later, but those relationships started out of pity. Pity for the injured ranger up a tree, who couldn't talk, was frightened of everything, and starving. They weren't the same.
He stopped running and fell to the ground panting. He was exhausted and needed a drink to replace what he lost sweating in his run, but his water was on his damn hawkstrider. He regretted fleeing the humans when he had been thrown. They would have put him out of his misery, given him peace, but his cowardice overtook him.
Kemnebi looked around, gray dirt, spooky trees, a ravine. He stared down into the ravine and noticed water. Perhaps he could get some further down the road? He got to his feet and walked down the road, hugging his bow.
Eventually he made it to Karazhan and the body of water beside it. He drank from it then noticed people were coming into the building, that it was being used as some sort of establishment. This gave him an idea.
He approached one of the employees, showed them his empty coin purse, and used his bow to pantomime a broom in hopes they would understand he was looking for odd jobs so he could get home.
Edited by Sydric on 5/13/13 10:41 PM (PDT)
The hour was late when Sydric made his way up the brightly lit path to the large grated doors to the Inn. He frowned slightly, he remembered a few mages of the Kirin Tor who stood guard over the ancient Keep. They were no where in sight.
The grates on the huge door looked like they were locked from the inside. He rode slowly towards it, stopping a few feet away to gaze at it intensely. His residual magic and the enchantments given to him by Arthas allowed him to discern something odd about it. Perhaps it was trapped?
Dismounting off the charger, he left the reins on the animal and got closer still. It was then a voice came from the other side. "Enter Sydric, I have been expecting you. Bring your steed he is welcome inside as well." the voice seemed oddly familiar, yet not.
Sydric cleared his throat and reached for the handle of the gate. It was not locked, but it had a very distinct shimmer to it. He pushed open the gate and walked inside, the steed following him meekly. The cobblestones beneath his plated boots rang with the clatter of his and the horses plated steps.
He stopped and turned around, the gate had swung shut and the clunk of it closing resounded through the courtyard. Sydric's ears twitched, he did not like this. There was no sign of anyone until he walked towards the stables.
A very gaunt stableboy of middle years reached for the reins of the charger, leading it into the stables. He spoke not a word even after Sydric addressed him. "Just put him in a stall, he will be no trouble."
A slight frown crossed Syd's face as he watched the stableboy walk away with his steed. "Strange...almost as if he did not care if he heard me or not." shrugging he walked up the steps to the main entrance. He expected a doorman or a bellboy or something. The usual things one sees at a posh Hotel.
He was just about to open the door when it swung wide, seemingly of its own accord. "Hello? Is there anyone here?" Syd felt foolish and just a little unsettled. The door shut behind him and he looked around. The usual cobwebs and insects were no where to be found. The floors swept and the counters dusted.
From a small alcove behind the desk in the entryway, a wizened older woman with wispy grey short hair stood and stared at him. Her eyes were the yellow of the Undead, her voice a rasp of sound. "You are late, but it is no matter. Stand at the door and welcome the guests. They are all expected, and if not...well let them in anyway. We will find a use for them. There is only one rule and one alone. Once they are inside, they do not leave." she grinned. Most of her teeth were yellowed and crooked. Her gaze looked him up and down and added softly, "That includes you."
Sydric quirked a brow and nodded. "I have been asked to do many things in my life...and Unlife...this looks interesting. Do you have a name old woman?" his tone one of mockery as he moved towards the door.
"Hanna, and be respectful. For once in your life. It will not help you now, but it won't hurt either." she grinned wickedly.
"Very well, we will meet at the sun's peak in a weeks time. Your fate will be decided then. Dismissed."
Rodney nodded, his face a stone slate as he stared at the council before him. He said nothing, but turned and walked out of the room, thrusting the doors to the side in gesture of his displeasure. He heard the doors slam against the walls on either side, the hinges groaning in protest at the sudden twist of pressure they were burdened with. Half of him hoped they would yield and the doors collaspe where they stood.
How could the council be so blind at what was happening! Only one believed his recounting of the incident. Nathaniel, a beast of a man and his mentor, was the only hand that granted him a few days impunity from the punishment he knew was inevitable. Rodney aggravatedly brushed his hand through his shaggy hair as he stood outside, taking a breath of fresh air.
"Breath it deep, son. As the light is willing, it may very well be running short of supply." The voice startled the paladin, and he turned with a start. Relief flushed over his face for a mere second as he recognized Nathan walking up to him, but the usual warmth of a smile was berift from his features.
"You cannot convince them." Rodney said gruffly, more out of self-pity than anything.
"You saw their conviction as well as I did." Came the reply. "I've done what I could, but I'm afraid their voice remains solidified in their stand. However it be, I will continue to plead your innocence in such matters. You're certain you've told exactly as it happened?" Nathaniel watched his student closely. His heart weighed heavy in the knowledge of what was likely to become of the young man, and wanted to see the truth blatent within his eyes.
"Of course! I told all as I remembered! Every bit, every quarter and detail!" Rodney spun back on his mentor, furious with rage. He curbed himself, however, knowing that the older paladin was not the cause of his anger.
In truth, he wasn't sure what to make of it. The teaching's of the Church were simply not making sense anymore. 'Light's Justice' was a saying he'd heard more than once throughout that horrible meeting, yet he could hardly believe that men so 'in-tune' with the light as they claim would be so blind! His own faith in the very power itself and in the men claiming it's wisdom was fading quickly.
Nathanial grasped Rodney with a hand on each shoulder, taking the odd complexion swirling about the young paladin's eyes as confusion. "Let it rest for now, Rodney. We have a week yet, to convince them that the evidence is not as it seems."
Rodney nodded, and took a step back, saluting the older man. He was indeed thankful to have him as a friend. Now, perhaps, his only true friend left.
"Go home, and pray the Light grant us a revelation on these matters before we convene again." With that, Nathan turned back towards the building, his large, mail-clad figure vanishing through the twin doors.
"If only it were that easy...." Rodney mumbled to himself as he walked away.
The night had brought him little sleep, leaving him feeling rather exhausted in the morning when the sun rose through the window. He felt little urge to pray as was his normal routine. The words were empty and hollow to him now, with little meaning flowing past his lips as he uttered them. All that he could think about was how he was to be stripped of his honor, pride, and who knew what else.
He stood and walked to his window, staring out at the expanse of the courtyard. Suddenly a small flutter caught his eye, and his gaze fell upon a small parchment stuck to the side of a post just outside. Curious he went out and looked at it.
"Kharazan...a hotel?" He looked at it incredulously as he read the parchment. It certainly held his interest... the place was a mystery, mentioned prior only by whispers and the occasional gossip of being hosting dark secrets. Yet, here it was, blazen before him it was rennovated to a rather luxurious looking get-away. Perhaps just what he needed! His mentor told him he needed to get his mind off of the current events for a few days, and this seemed just the thing.
Much of the journey there was nonchalant, though the paladin did find the eerie path through the deadened woodland rather disturbing. The man had doubts about whether leaving his armor behind was such a good idea after all. He wasn't expecting to battle anything, though he did bring a fair sized battle dirk for precaution. Aside from that strapped to his waist, he wore simple leather breeches and a loose, cotton shirt.
After a rather unpleasant ride through the strange scenery, he approached the lit path leading to the front gate. He rode slowly down it, looking about rather perplexed. It was pretty dull for what the flyer had described. Perhaps it had been a mere prank?
It had been a very long time since he'd ventured this direction, and never did proceed to get closer than a view of the mansion from one of the nearby hilltops. The Kirin Tor mages had always been here guarding it, and he didn't feel too fond of them as it was. Casters were too unpredictable in his mind.
Rodney furrowed his brow as he looked at the shimmering door, then glanced about wondering if the mages were actually still around.
"Open Seasame." He stated loudly, placing his hands on his hips as he stood directly in front of it.
The blue eyed stare of the death knight regarded Hanna with some distain. "So I am a doorman? I certainly hope there is more to this than that. I had hoped for some challenge or sport at least...who is running this place, by the way? Or are you the one?" he looked at her with curiousity.
Hanna merely smiled, "I am not at liberty to discuss it...but you may open the gate for our next guest if you would." her smile seemed to hide a secret of some sort. But then all Forsaken looked like that with their yellow eyes and shabby appearance.
Shrugging, Sydric went to the ornate door and pulled it open. Through the bars he could see a human paladin standing outside the gate. "I am sure you have strength enough to open that gate...don't worry it won't bite or anything..." he chuckled as he watched the human standing there as if he expected the shimmering gate to swallow him.
Up the path behind the paladin rode a female human on a prancing nervous horse. It seemed all she could do to restrain the animal to a reasonable pace. "Hail paladin, is that gate locked? It does not surprise me considering how much this place costs to reserve a room." she heard the death knight and gave him a withering stare. Vira Haldeman expected any man to open doors and gates for her. It was her station in life and she deserved it, she thought.
The nervous horse reared and Vira grew increasingly irritated until she finally gave up. Jumping from the back of the volatile horse she dropped the reins and watched as it flew away back towards Stormwind. "Good riddance you horrid creature!" she yelled at it. No doubt in her mind it was cursed or something. She turned to the paladin and frowned.
"You are still standing there? Open the damned gate!" her voice as grating as her personality. For an older woman she could be quite caustic. Her elegant robe and expensive cloak fluttered around her in a swirl of irritation. No doubt she was still fuming over an unruly horse and nothing personal was intended. She took off her gloves and tucked them into her satchel.
Edited by Kemnebi on 5/15/13 12:57 PM (PDT)
Kemnebi, unable to find anyone to 'talk' to outside, skulks around the ruins outside of the building. He found his way atop one of the old building frames and sat upon it in a crouch, and stares blankly at the door and it's shimmer.
Kemnebi had heard tales of the place, and that it was magical and possibly haunted. He clenched his bow, he didn't like the idea of the spooky place, but surely it wasn't anything major. He'd seen much worse, spirits would pale in comparison.
He ducked out of sight when others approached the gates, listening to their exchanges and peeking at them through the frame of an old, broken, window. He remained very still and tried to not make any noises.
He listened to Sydric call out to the human Paladin and the exchange between the older lady and the Paladin about opening the gate. He glared at nothing in particular, the exchange grating on his nerves.
He took a deep breath, convinced getting home was enough to face the inside of the spooky haunted building, he hopped back atop the wall of the ruined building, then bolted towards the gate. He opened the gate and walked through the door, bow in one hand. He wouldn't hold it up for Vira though, he wasn't a gentleman, and to him most people weren't really people anyhow.
On the other side he stopped in front of Sydric, looking at him from feet to head, sizing him up. He recognized that Sydric had glowing blue eyes characteristic of a Death Knight, great, an undead. He tilted his head inquisitively.
After a few seconds of curiosity Kemnebi stood up straight, standing almost in Sydric's personal space. He squared off his shoulders, chin up, took a deep breath and puffed up his chest. That'll show him!
After holding his not-scared-of-you tough-guy mannerism for about a minute he returned to his typical half-slumped posture. He noted Hanna's presence at the counter but decided to bolt for the railing on the raised base of the staircase heading further up into the old place. He hopped up on it and resumed his typical gargoyle-like crouch, bow in hand, down by his feet.
The others he passed on the way in were there first. He would let them get their business done before he pestered Hannah for work.
With nothing better to do he simply stared blankly at Sydric.
Reyara looked at the others gathering. "Place must be popular." She thought. She them saw someone with a how go inside as well. "Hmmm I wonder if he works here or not." Reyara added. She noticed the terrified horse running away. Her hippogryph was hungry so she climbed down. "Good boy, go get some dinner" she said as the hungry hippogryph took off after the horse. She pulled her good over her head so that only her glowing silver eyes were visible. Her height and ears gave her race away like a sore thumb.
She followed the others inside, glad she had a lot of gold on her person for how expensive things would probably be. "Don't be stupid look at the death knight." Ceyara said. Reyara noticed him in the corner of her eye. Standing at the door like some king of doorman. A very funny job for a death knight. A grin came over her features as she looked at the paladin and the human priest. She had been a priestess of the moon once. An honor for the short time before her exile.
"This place gives me an uneasy feeling. Reyara stay on your guard." Ceyara said. Reyara was almost always in control of their body. Ceyara preferred it that way, only taking control when necessary. She walked past the doorman and stood in the atrium. She assumed their host would greet them or have something for them to sign before taking their money. The night elf sighed preferring to keep to herself. Best not make friends with these people. Something about them the woman in particular didn't feel right. It was probably her annoying voice or her holier than thou attitude she detected when she expected the gate to be opened for her like she was some kind of royal.
Rodney was a bit startled to say the least as upon his puckish command, the door before him swung wide. For a split second, all the wishful stories of his childhood almost seemed to be not such fantastical words. Then Sydric stepped out.
"I am sure you have strength enough to open that gate...don't worry it won't bite or anything..."
The paladin looked at the odd looking elf, recognizing the undeathly tone and features that marked his fate as a deathknight. He wondered for a moment, exactly just what kind of 'hotel' this really was. Strange gates, haunted walkway, and now an undead fellow for the concierge. He was sure Hallows End was long past....
"Ah!" The man said finally after a moment. "But you just might, asides... it appears that your door works upon such mystical statements anyhow! I would presume the gate have such a command as well?" Rodney grinned at the deathknight, and began reaching for the barred egress when the horses agitated steps and a rather vexatious female voice spoke out behind him.
He turned to see the woman struggling to keep her horse nearby. He watched curiously, as she finally threw herself down from the agitated beast and let run off.
"Good riddance you horrid creature!"
"Seems your beast has distaste for a place as opulently described as this, miss!" He said, chuckling as she started his way. Despite all that had happened in recent events, he was pleased to see he still held his rambunctious and merry disposition.
"You are still standing there? Open the damned gate!" The woman's grating and impudent reply threw the smile from his face, however, and he simply decided to just shut up and play the part of the gentleman and open the gate. As he did so, he was interrupted yet again, as another elf stepped up to the gate, prying it open and stepping inside.
Rodney shook his head as he watched this new elf step up to the deathknight, almost in a challenging gesture. By the Light this place was getting weirder by the minute! He swung the gate open the rest of the way, and merely waved his hand and nodded towards Vira, gesturing her inside.
Even then, as he stood there with the gate open, yet another person approached, walking right up to the gate, and brushing past the paladin with naught but a mere smile.
'And so, since when have I become the concierge now?' He asked himself rhetorically, watching as the elven woman stepped through the gate. He turned, looking up the path to see if yet anyone else wished to arrive at this rather odd moment.
"It seems this place is getting quite the attention now!" Rodney smiled at Reyara in return and stepped up, taking his place in the rear of the growing line of patrons. Silently he wondered just what kind of experience this was going to be. This moment in itself was very awkward.
At the gates of the inn, Victor slowed, looking around. By the sounds of it, there were several people already inside. Once again, he contemplated leaving; while the Forsaken had accepted a small number necromancers out of necessity, he doubted anyone else would be so forgiving. However, the lure of knowledge still enticed him, and who knew what could be found in a place such as Karazhan?
“I suppose I could pass for a mage. In the event that using my more unsavory powers becomes necessary, I may need to cut my visit short. But I’ll worry about that when it happens.”
Warily approaching the entrance, he pushed open the gate, the action causing a loud groan from the metal doors. As he entered, he noted the death knight standing nearby. “What a complex variety of spells went into the Lich King’s chosen. It would likely take me months to emulate those. Still, the cost of that knowledge would have been great.”
Victor remained silent as he walked by, keeping his sight set in front of him. There was a night elf, a human paladin, and a human priest, which was worrying. A priest would sense his presence as easy as if he were openly using his magic. He walked away from that area of the inn, taking a moment to do a double-take of the blood elf hunter who stood perched on a railing.
Approaching the woman who he assumed was the innkeeper, an undead woman. It had been a few hours since he’d last drank anything and even longer since he’d eaten. “Excuse me, milady. Are you serving any food, or drink?” He wondered whether she maintained any sentience. It would make acquiring food far more difficult if she hadn’t.
Folding his arms over his plated chest, Sydric merely nodded to those who did not address him directly. He was not the greatest of doorkeepers. He grinned at the thought of not letting anyone out however.
Vira had not addressed so much as demanded someone open the door for her, and Sydric allowed the paladin to do it. It made no difference to him. As soon as everyone was inside he stood next to the door and leaned on the wall. Watching those who were standing in line with some skepticism.
The priest looked askance at the man who breezed right past her as if he were some kind of special customer. "Hey! Who taught you manners? The hogs in Durotar? Wait your turn! There were others here first!" and she proceeded to push past him and scowl at the innkeeper.
"My luggage should have arrived ahead of me, what room did you give me and how many stairs do I have to climb? I don't suppose an elevator has been installed. The last time I was in this place it was huge and you had to run everywhere." she glared at the Undead woman.
Hanna smiled and handed Vira a key, "Here you are Miss Haldeman, your bags are in room number 107. The first floor as you specified. Through the door behind me is a ballroom and banquet facilities. The stairs are to the right here and lead to the first floor rooms."
Vira made a humph sound and looked behind her. Obviously these were going to be the only people she had to converse with. "Right then, I guess I am in need of some dinner and something to wash the dust out of my throat." she then turned abruptly and stalked into the dining area. Not waiting for anyone to address her or to even recognise her.
Hanna offered keys to each one who stepped up to the desk and told them the same thing she told Vira. She was not overly talkative. Giving them an appropriate room key and telling them where the food was.
Lucius watched as each one in tern walked through the doors of Karazhan. As each one passed he made a threat assessment, surmising that the only chap so far that would prove difficult was their death knight doorman. He took a moment mentally digesting what he just said. “A death knight doorman,” he thought, “Now I’ve seen everything.” Giving the all clear, Lucius beckoned for his retainer to enter the “hotel.”
With long purposeful strides Cornelius Blackwood made his way through the heavy wooden doors that at one time secured the home of the last guardian of azeroth. The architecture was nothing short of spectacular. Beautifully polished marble floors bled into high walls which in turn transformed into high arching ceilings. As he followed the rest of the menagerie deeper into the bowls of karazhan, he looked out across the grand ballroom and stared at the majesty of the stain glass windows and the artisan ships of the sculptures. As his eyes drifted from sculpture to sculpture, he saw movement.
One of the statues had moved. Stopping in his tracks, caused Lucius to collide with him nearly sending the pair to the marbled floor. Before Lucius could state his protest, Cornelius pulled his associate close and whispered into his ear. “Did you see that! The statue moved!” As he spoke the merchant extended his hand and pointed at a row of marble statues depicting various armored figures locked in combat. When his companion gave him a quizzical look he let out an exasperated sigh. “The heads, they weren’t looking this way before….. I Don’t know maybe I’m losing my mind.”
Trying to lighten the mood, Lucius cracked a joke at his retainers confusion. In an unaccustomed show of friendship, Lucius wrapped his arm around Cornelius’ shoulder and led him forward to rejoin with the others. However, His outward nonchalant façade was just that. He knew Cornelius well, better than he did in some cases. Though he was getting older, he had a damn near perfect memory and showed more attention than any man he had ever worked for. Quickly he glanced back over his shoulder giving one final glance at the row of statues. He knew of the horrors that this place held but a few years ago, he would have to keep both eyes open, perhaps during this trip he would earn his pay. Without a word, the pair took their room key and went to the room assigned to acquire more comfortable clothing and freshen up.
The innkeeper smiled her gruesome yellowtoothed grin at all who came to her. As they walked past her she turned to Sydric and scowled, her expression actually not changing that much. "Remember your manners boy...even if other do not. There may be another ...if he accepts. If anyone asks, the door there is malfunctioning and they are to be directed to the other door to leave if they wish. But of course they will not find the other door without going through the entire building. It is rather large and confusing...isn't it?" she cackled like a maniac.
The sardonic grin on Sydric's face was all he would give her as he nodded. He rather liked misleading people. He always preferred a witty response to an outright challenge anyway, unless there was no time. Then he would not hesitate to use all at his command. He was thoughtful as he considered the ley lines beneath the Hotel. He could feel them flowing like a river. It always surprised him that the Sindorei had not made a beeline for this place long ago.
In idle curiousity he channeled an old spell from his mage days, before he had become enslaved by Arthas. To his surprise the magelight came to his fingertips easily. It was an innocuous spell to be sure, nothing to threaten anyone. But it may come in handy. He let it disperse and racked his memory for anything more potent.
Kemnebi casts blank stares at the patron of the establishment as they walk past him. He listens to the exchange between Sydric and Hannah, his brow raising ever-so-slightly. He shook his head, blinked and decided he was just being paranoid, that undead people just make everything a little creepy and sinister.
He visibly tensed when he caught a glimmer of spell on Sydric's fingertip, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Magic had been used to do incredibly unpleasant things to him in the past. Not a magic user himself, all magic was a little scary.
Kemnebi hugged his bow, warily watching Sydric with the mostly stoic look on his face. When the spell dissipated Kemnebi hopped down from the railing and went to Hannah. Hopefully she wasn't busy, and had time for him to 'talk' to her.
When he reached her he set his bow down leaning against his legs and stood up straight in greeting. He then showed her the inside of his mostly empty coin purse and frowned. He slipped it away and pantomimed sweeping with his bow as the broom-stick. He set the bow back down.
The ranger then removed a necklace he wore under his shirt and showed Hannah the metal tags engraved with a name "Kemnebi Sunrunner." After giving her time to examine it he'd snatch it away, put it back on, and returned to slouching.
Edited by Kíalla on 5/17/13 4:17 PM (PDT)
Rodney felt like he could simply take his dagger and slice designs into the tension that was erupting between all the patrons. It seemed in particular that a few of the newcomers were casting rather sumptuous looks at the deathknight by the door.
The paladin was no particular fan of the undead soldiers, but he did not share the same demeanor in their presence. After all, more than one of his fallen brethren had become such agents, so he tried to keep a more open mind about it. Still, the stupid grin on Sydric's face was pretty disturbing...
Shaking the thought off, Rodney took the key for his room. Room 112, it read on the tag. Taking a glance at the group that was slowly dispersing into directions accord to their desire, the man cast a roving gaze over those left standing there, and turned to head towards the rooms. He wanted to go at least familiarize himself with the layout a bit.
The halls were huge, much bigger than he could imagine, and he could only guess how much time, effort, and cost it was to construct the marble flooring, and very elaborately carved walls.
Rodney turned the corner into the hall where the rooms were located, and stood there looking at the vaulted ceiling, and called out, smiling to himself as he listened to his voice echo several times within the hall. There were two men, namely, Cornelius and Lucius, walking down the hall, both of which he was certain had heard him.
He'd seen them when they first entered, ignoring almost everybody there and making a straight beeline for the ballroom. Rodney couldn't help but wonder if they'd been there before. They certainly seemed to know their way around easily, though their sudden return left him completely puzzled. The paladin resumed walking down the hall towards them, waving if they turned at the sound.
"Quite the place, isn't it? It's much grander than I'd imagined."