second rune; death; video

[deadelfwalking]

 [When the feed starts, the netbook's camera shows you a view of the forest floor.  A deer carcass lies among the grass and twigs, and it's obvious that the poor thing did not have a clean death.  It's in the advanced stages of decomposition, even though the blood around its body is red and fresh.  The camera does not linger on this image for more than a few seconds; it pans upward, to show Koltira's face.

 He's standing over the deer, holding the device in one hand, holding Byfrost with the other.  Agony creases his expression: his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his pale, sallow face is taut with pain.  The guttural growl of his voice occasionally rises in octave as he talks, as though something is beating the shit out of him from the inside.]

Were we brought here to fight for something, or to waste time reliving the past?  Send.  Us.  On.  A mission.

[He stabs the tree next to him with Byfrost, and the sword glows sickly green; the tree bark begins to decay rapidly, as though it's practically melting.  Diseased fumes pour out of the bark, forming a nasty miasma around Koltira's body.]

I need a battle. [he hisses, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek.]  Now.

Comments

[healplz]

[ The air is foul, the scene is disgusting. The bone staff (oh why did he bring this one?) is hissing for an immediate attack. Ashraf clenches his jaw and stops near to Koltira. The butt of the staff hits the ground, and he drops to a crouch to be level with him. ]

I can stop you from hurting anyone.

[ It's the wrong tone for a threat, though. It sounds more like an offer. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[oh, Ashraf, you're so close to him, and your heart is beating so quickly in your chest. He can hear the blood rushing in your veins, sense its vitality. He wants to open those veins, to see you scream as the life drains out of your body, to revel in the begging, the cries for mercy. The desire is a flash, a spark, and he recoils from it, and from Ashraf as well, scrambling to put a little distance between them.

He clenches his fists, scraping the armor over his palms.]

Planning to kill me, then? I can already ... [exhale.] I can tell you how that's going to go.

[healplz]

[ Maybe... stopping so close to him was a mistake. He'd hated the sight of him last time they met, and hadn't had much time to consider him within the VR, and then afterwards there'd been a man in need of aid to contend with... either way, he's never really looked at Koltira.

It's kind of unnerving.

He stands, taking a step or two back himself to put a little distance between them, and squares his shoulders determinedly. ]

No. Not if it isn't necessary. [ He's still not sure that's the right choice. His hand grips the bone of his staff more firmly. ] Tell me about... this. Explain it to me.

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira claws at his face, drawing lines of blood down his cheeks. His laughter is short and brittle.] Now ... now you want to talk? I have been trying to do that since I arrived here. [this last he hisses with such venom that it just about poisons the air. He manages to stand, and begins to walk, meaning to move away from the dead deer and the ruined tree. He speaks as his moves, his voice shaky with pain.]

This [he gestures to his body.] is the plague of undeath, specially modified. After I was killed trying to defend my homeland from the Scourge invasion, my corpse was raised using a particular strain of necromancy.

[he stops walking when they reach a clearing, and collapses back to his knees. He heaves for a moment.]

I have been dead for ten years. And in that time, I have never stopped fighting. [even when he was in that other place, that other city ... he has recollections of fighting.]

[healplz]

[ Ashraf follows, allowing some distance between himself and Koltira as he listens. He feels a twinge of pity, but... no, he can't afford that. Not when this man is so obviously capable of harming people, whether or not it's his choice.

He stops behind Koltira, glad for the change of scenery, but no less guarded. ]

And of your need for battle?

[deadelfwalking]

[staring at the grass now, tryin' REAL HARD TO KEEP IT TOGETHER. He breathes in icy puffs.]

A death knight's existence is suffering. All of us are in some of amount of pain at any given time. Only war quells it. And if we do not fight, the pain increases. [he jerks his head at his quivering left arm, his twitching legs.] Wracking pain that worsens as time passes.

[healplz]

[ He stands behind Koltira, watchful. He almost expects the man to leap up and spin around, with this behavior. ]

And the deer? That was no battle. Only mutilation.

[deadelfwalking]

[He manages to sit up, though his expression is contorted, snarling.] Obviously. I have been hunting them occasionally since I arrived, cleanly, and leaving the meat. There are others who spend time here that make use of it.

But that deer ... when I came upon it, I could not restrain myself, suddenly, from using Byfrost's power. I killed the deer, and then felt a flash of pain. One of Byfrost's runes activated, releasing a disease which caused the corpse to decay as it did. That was when I realized I could not return to the city.

[healplz]

[ He's silent for a while, weighing his options. It's incredibly unlikely that he could kill Koltira by himself, and nor does he think he wants to. He's been a comrade, no matter how temporarily. Forcibly restraining him would be difficult, and probably dangerous.

Finally he moves, circling around to stand before Koltira, and says what he'd definitely never expected to hear from himself to an undead man. ]

How can I help?

[deadelfwalking]

[he appreciates the thought, buddy, and talking was a good distraction, but ... he drives his fists into the soft earth, chewing on his lip.]

You can help by leaving.

[healplz]

[ He shakes his head firmly, unmoving. Leaving doesn't seem to be in his immediate future, judging by that solid stance. ]

I'm sorry, that is not an option.

[deadelfwalking]

[He presses his palms against the base of his ears; it looks as though he's trying to crush his own head between his hands.]

What do you want, priest? Are you going to wait there, hoping that I'll attack you? Will that satisfy you? Will you feel better then, after you've had your treasured prejudices confirmed?

Well?

[healplz]

[ His eyes narrow a little, because dammit, having your offer of help refused is kind of frustrating when it'd been so hard to make in the first place! ]

No. [ A little begrudgingly: ] If you attack me now, it will not have been under your own willpower.

[deadelfwalking]

[his sheer irritation at this conversation gives him enough willpower to arrange himself more comfortably; with effort, he assumes a cross-legged position on the ground, laughing at Ashraf's remark, because willpower really is the thing here.] Story of my bloody life.

[he shakes his head.] Why are you here, then? When I called you for help with that sniveling kim'jael of a man, you didn't even look at me.

[healplz]

[ He watches closely for a moment more, then sinks to a crouch in front of him. Koltira might possibly deserve that much, even if the teachings of the Church vehemently disagree. ]

I am here to ensure no one gets hurt. [ Permanently, at least. Which tends to be his speciality. He stares at him steadily, unmoved by the reminder of his behavior last time. ] Will these feelings fade? Or is battle necessary?

[deadelfwalking]

[coldly, clutching his stomach as another wracking pain shoots through his muscles.]

You would have no chance against me. You are only alive right now because I am fighting with everything I am not to kill you.

[he gnashes his teeth, because it would be so wonderful and so easy to rip your throat right out, Ashraf. To tear your skin from its bones, shred the muscles, soak in the blood. And the screams would be loveliest of all.]

The--feelings--never fade. I control them through battle or will, and since it's becoming clear that I will not be sent to battle, I must rely on will.

[healplz]

[ He doesn't flinch or look away, but grips the dark bone of the staff. It's reassuring, somehow. A twisted sort of reassuring. ]

I'm not a warrior, but I'm not so easily killed. [ Oh man, he really hopes he's not just inviting Koltira to lunge at him, or anything. He's going to need a little time for mental fortification, if this actually pans out like he's starting to hope and fear it will. ] My healing has kept me alive through worse than you.

[deadelfwalking]

[Hope and fear? Ashraf, you are the worst. Koltira sneers.]

So you think. But you have. [winces, squeezing his eyes shut; the cold-fire beneath his eyelids blazes, flaring out at the edges. His next words are high-pitched with pain.] No. Idea.

[healplz]

[ Just the fact that Koltira doesn't jump for the chance is what settles Ashraf's mind on the matter. He stands, unfastens his robe, and pulls it off to leave it hanging off of a nearby tree branch. It would be a terrible pain to have to wash and mend such expensive fabric.

He turns to face Koltira again bare-chested and grim, but resolved, and casts a brief round of spells over himself. He's as ready as he'll ever be. ]

Then show me.

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira's eyes widen in shock. What the hell is going on right now? He looks at the robe, twisting in the night wind, and then back at Ashraf, standing there expectantly. He looks away, his breath catching. It's too much. It's just too much.]

Don't-- [he stands up, every nerve screaming with pain, with irresistible demands. Orders he doesn't want to fulfill. He takes a slow, shaking step forward.] Do you revile me so much? Is that what this is?

[he clutches at his head, his gaze sliding back to Ashraf, and moans.] I--can't--run--

[healplz]

This isn't about you. It's for those you might harm.

[ His eyes narrow because, come on now, really. This waiting is killing him. Anticipation might actually be worse than pain. ]

I will attack first, if necessary.

[deadelfwalking]

Self-righteous fool.

[he picks up Byfrost with one hand and lunges, the other hand poised to strangle the fuck out of this guy. Because when you put meat in front of a starving wolf, he has no choice but to eat it.]

[healplz]

[ Though he's willing to be attacked, he doesn't plan on just standing there. He jerks back on instinct, but of course not quite quickly enough. Speed isn't his thing. He feels the hand close around his throat and grits his teeth, a heal prepared but not loosed. He may need to save all the magic he can, if Koltira is as violent as threatened. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[he pushes Ashraf down to the ground and straddles him, not easing his grip in the slightest as he does so. Ashraf's expression alone--the surprise, the clenched jaw--feeds the fire, but it's not enough; not nearly enough. Koltira drives Byfrost into the earth beside them, and the sword glows with an unearthly, dark purple light that washes over both of their bodies.

Growling, baring his knife-point canines, Koltira lifts his empty, armored hand. The black plate gauntlets have clawed tips, which dig deep gouges into Ashraf's bare chest. Koltira smiles horribly as blood wells from the wounds, driving the point of his index finger into Ashraf's hip, where the skin is thin and the bone is close.]

yep no icons for this. SIGH.

[healplz]

[ God, but he's glad he's taken off his robes for this. How many battles has he seen completely ruin them? And that was when stopping by the Prontera Church for a new set was still an option. He slams his eyes shut, fingers digging into the ground, and forces his mind to mundane things.

His robes might end up with sap on them, at worst— metal tearing skin— but that's better than blood. His pants may well be ruined, though— searing pain, spasming muscles— he should probably find a tailor, it's inevitable that he'll run into a battle without a chance to protect his robes.

A little while longer, is the thought he allows himself. Just a little more, and he'll heal himself. ]