exsilium | eighth rune; frost; video

[Koltira's at his lake, sitting cross-legged in its center, on a platform of pure, glittering frost. Byfrost, his runeblade, is stuck in the ice beside him, glowing darkly--a black miasma crawls and leaps around the sword throughout this transmission, though it doesn't seem to bother Koltira much. Rather, his attention is fully fixed on the tablet, which he holds up with one gloved hand. He's wearing a black, high-collared shirt with long sleeves; no armor at all is visible. A collection of glass bottles, most of them empty, surrounds him.

It's been about a month since his blood frenzy, and several weeks since he and a few of the others handled Arthas. Aside from his night out with Bariyan for New Year's Eve, Koltira has tried to seclude himself from the population of the island, and definitely tried not to talk about all the terrible things that happened during his frenzy.

He is a creature of guilt and despair even at the best of times, but this most recent go-round on the misery carousel has left him deeper in darkness than ever before. He's decided that he needs to offer some apologies. Some explanations.]

Before I speak to you of the true matter at hand, I wish to thank those of you who assisted in dealing with Arthas and rescuing the Lady Proudmoore. Though he escaped, it will likely be some time before he is strong enough to trouble us again.

[He pauses. His expression, which had been entirely stoic, turns downcast.]

Important as that is, however, it's not why I'm talking to you. I mean to apologize for my actions of some weeks ago, especially to those unfortunate enough to encounter me in the forest. I am so terribly sorry for the harm I caused. I was not in full control of my faculties--that is why I tried to issue a warning.

[He shifts in position slightly, so as to pick up one of the fuller bottles and take a fortifying drink. All right. Pressing on.]

As some of you know, I am a death knight, of a world called Azeroth. I was killed, and then my raising into undeath was ordered by Arthas himself. My body is the product of the worst kind of necromancy, and the curses that bind me together extend beyond the flesh. All of my kind are subject to constant pain; barely tolerable to living senses even at its lowest levels. We were designed, quite literally, to be killing machines in the service of the Lich King--a name that Arthas has taken now, and that he will indeed eventually become.

[Another pause, another drink. This part of the explanation is his least favorite, but he knows he must tell it, in the interest of honor and transparency.]

Our essential curse is this: the longer we--the longer I--go without inflicting suffering on another living creature, the more we suffer in turn. If enough time passes, we fall into madness. We think of nothing but blood. Seeking it. Spilling it. Our pain becomes excruciating. Unbearable, wracking spasms.

I fight against this every day, as do all my brothers and sisters in death. But it is not easy, and I occasionally fail.

[He winces even as he talks. Almost through it.]

Again ... I am sorry for the pain I've caused. In the interests of the city, both yourselves and the general population, I've left the apartments. I shall remain here, and I shall limit my time among you, save as I must come and go in service of your protection against other threats.

It is all I can do.

[He's quiet for a moment, staring down at the ice. That's all, right? That's all he can say, he thinks. He ends the transmission.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I have prayed for each of the souls of the men killed, but it was the necessary death of war.

[ He comes a little nearer, tone softening. People must die, that's the way of war and Exsilium, wishing it were different does no good. ]

Unless some release can be found, and you have made me believe that impossible, then turning your need to the advantage of the Initiative is all that can be done.

I have no desire to go on further missions.

[ The rest of his fortifying solemnity falls away, concern finally taking its place. ]

Why not?

[He gives Ashraf a 'we've been over this' kind of look.]

You know why.

[ He lets out a breath and drops to a crouch in front of Koltira's seat, one hand resting on Koltira's knee. Partially for balance, partially just for the contact. ]

What will you do instead, then?

[He stares at some point beyond Ashraf, out across the expanse of the lake, his jaw clenched.]

I don't know yet.

[ He watches him closely, and without a change in the sympathy and pity on his face: ] That is ridiculous.

[His expression turns to a scowl.]

It's my problem. My business.

There is no reason for it. Especially now, when transports and the Initiative alike have seen firsthand things that Arthas is capable of. The time it takes you to complete a mission can be spared without all the island falling to him.

[ that sounded like a brush of angry sarcasm there at the very end, weird. ]

They may have seen it, but show me one among them, one not of Azeroth, who still takes him for a threat! Even now, they shrug at his presence.

[he calls up the exchange with Asuka, as an example.]

[ He hardly even glances at it before waving it off. ]

It's an irrelevant point. There are enough of Azeroth to guard against him for the single day—or less—that it would take.

Hardly so. Most of them are villains themselves.

And what of Jaina? Or Thrall? Are they worth nothing?

I respect the Lady Proudmoore, but her residual feelings for Arthas make her less than ideal for what we suggest. And I have not seen Thrall in weeks.

[ ugh koltira you are really the worst problem solver ever. ]

And you have no other solutions.

[ He takes a moment, then closes his eyes with a breath. Now is as good a time as any to threaten. ]

I can think of one, at least.

[He narrows his eyes.]

Is that so?

It was for respect of you that I kept away during your last frenzy [ you know, right up until the whole trap thing ], but if you can think of nothing else, then I will rescind my consideration and offer myself as I did the first time.

[ And of course, by "offer" he pretty much means there won't be any choice in it. ]

['offer himself'. Even the way it's phrased makes Koltira internally recoil.]

Why do you refuse to listen to me?

[ He only quirks a brow. ]

It is unpleasant, isn't it?

[ when people IGNORE YOU AND INSIST ON TERRIBLE THINGS ]

[WHATEVER, HE'S BARRELING RIGHT PAST THAT.]

Ashraf, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone. That is why I bloody stay out here! Why can you not just leave me be?

If you don't want to hurt me, then listen to me!

[ A quick pause, because getting angry here won't help anything. He continues again in a moment, lower. ]

I do not want to see you in that state. If you will not allow me to prevent it logically, I will do it another way.

[HE WANTS TO GRAB ASHRAF AND SHAKE HIM INTO A COMA.]

Or you could do as I ask and stay away! Then you will not have to bloody see me at all.

[ THE FEELING IS MUTUAL, SIR. even if he's forcing himself to stay calm. ]

What will it take to make you understand I will not abandon a friend?

[through his teeth, though he sounds despairing, anguished.]

Perhaps, in this case, you should.

[ Still looking stormy, he leans forward to seize one of Koltira's hands. His fingers wrap around wrist and palm, while his other hand rests firmly over his forearm. ]

No. I care for you too much to grant that request, Koltira.

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