Demons and Scourge
Jabiba - May 20, 2006
"Snowfeather you killed her" Licidion spoke. "Snowfeather? Is she
made of snow?" As Jabiba continued, "Who is she?" Screaming
throughout all of Tirisfal asking the hidden skeleton to reveal
more. More information than the young troll knew.
Licidion said he would explain and such the troll smile and sat
down before him, ears wide open... waiting.... Moments later a
dagger slices through him. His back arches until the dagger is
removed.
*Adrenaline Rush* He began screaming to the forsaken, "Why? Why
try to kill jabiba?" "Why?..." Stumbling around as two more
forsaken come about. Zxon challenges Licidion to a fight, which
he agrees, attempting to slay another. Only this time he was
unmatched, perhaps his blade dulled by the spine of the troll.
Licidion falls before Zxon only to alert that he will never die,
that he will never leave. The pain of snowfeather will be the
pain of us all.
Jabiba limps across the ground, goggles growing foggy, losing
sight.. as blood bleeds him dry he falls over on his side.
Lucrena and Zxon do their best to bring him back, only to see his
muscles weak.. yet alarmingly his voice grow louder. Speaking
sounds not many had heard. Speaking in a language he himself did
not recognize, but spoke it all the same.
He Spoke the Tongue of Demons.
*Licidion!* *I see you!* *I... Demons.. I see them.. I see* *I*
*...* *Demons!!* *Scourge!* *Demonic Scourge*
Though his words were nothing but gibberish, they spoke of
question and strength.
A priest begins chanting words, words that raise the dead..
hoping to save him before he is lost to the nether. Though troll,
blood still seeped from his wounds. Just before the incantations
were complete, Jabiba stood in his puddle of blood. Screaming now
in demonic tongue, he darts off out of town, leaving nothing more
than a trail of blood.
[Licidion]
Dulled wasn't the half of his troubles.
Licidion had been gone..buried in several places by gnolls who
got lucky. With the help of Ela'Jinn, Licidion eventually
regained all of his pieces, and became whole.
But, he was not aware of his current surroundings when he first
rose to announce his arrival to take revenge on the grim. Holes
scattered across his leather armor showed marks of battles
previously fought. His daggers rusted from misuse - blood and
saliva corrupting the once keen edged blades. The glory of those
battles - taking down three blades of lordaeron by
himself...killing the dragons of the badlands while two alliance
attempted to stop him and failed...all but memories of the past,
all too soon forgotten. But the marks they left on his weaponry
were quite real...seeing this, he tore the rags from his body in
a feat of rage, stabbing them into the ground with his dulled
steel.
He would have defeated that smug priest..he would have seen the
joy of the pains he would have inflicted..just like he used to...
The troll...that troll...was merely in his way. He wanted to show
him how snowfeather felt...how she was betrayed by her own. How
noone but himself morned over her death. They would all know her
pain. He was merely the first.
Licidion tried to go after the undead mage...he really
tried...but she just ran off...making crude noises with her
throat as if she could not speak...and that priest..he
interrupted him...it angered him so that he got defeated by one
so obviously weak.
However, this anger was not flowing into a bottomless pit. It
swelled inside of him, giving him new resolve.
First...he would need new armor. New blades. They would shine
like the heavens and reflect the splatter of blood. Glorious was
this image, that he began to slam leather together, working it
into his own image.
They would all pay. They would suffer. And he made a promise to
that priest. The priest would lose something very dear to
him..and it was very obviously that mage....
Saliva dripped from his cracked mandible as he thought of tearing
what was left of her decaying flesh from her bone, then
shattering each bone individually, so he would be left with
nothing but dust...just...like...he...was....
"Abric..." he mumbled to himself as he worked, half sane, half
twitching as his eyeless sockets began to bleed out green ooze of
joy. "...I'll show you....we have unfinished business...my old
friend....you will learn not everything is so textbook...that you
cannot be emotionless forever...I will show you...I'll show all
of you!"