(( Prequel can be found here: https://thegrim.org/forum/viewtopic.php ... 132#p67132
Episode II here: https://thegrim.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=8479
OOC here: https://thegrim.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=7&t=8459 ))
Its been days now since Kyfur was able to make contact with the physical world. He had been to Ashenfurys' cave several times, waiting for him to contact the spirits so the goblin might have a chance of renewing spirit and body. However the shaman was in no condition to perform any kind of ritual. The foul smelling orc had been stuck in a drunken haze for sometime now.
Knowing he was running out of time (his body decomposing now by the minute), Kyfur took to the clouds. Flying around, looking and hoping for someone or something that could help. It seemed like his mission was now hopeless.
Kyfur enjoyed the weightlessness as he flew through the air. Remembering how it felt to be able to feel the wind through his hair. Recalling his childhood friends, and the scar he had received above his left eye after trying to fly off his old pals' dads' workshop with a poorly engineered hang-glider they had made out of left over scraps and tree leaves.
He then noticed the trees he just flew by, strangely just passed him by. The grass and dirt started moving in the opposite direction. Bewildered, he turned around to realize he was traveling backwards. It was as if he was being sucked into a black hole. The goblin closed his eyes not really wanting to know what was happening.
When he opened his eyes, Kyfur was hovering over a fire, looking at a red-headed, black-tusked troll. The fire was in the center of geometrically arranged sticks and stones elaborately laid out in a strange pattern. Chicken bones, empty vials labeled "frog guts", and the ogre scrotums' hanging from tree branches where some of the first things he noticed when he observed his surroundings.
The troll locked eyes with Kyfur. The goblin sheepishly folded his spirit arms behind his back and smirked. "Hiya! Names Kyfah, and I'll betcha you can see me huh?!?
Knithawks Demise
Re: Knithawks Demise
The air crackled and hissed like a caldron boiled dry while the fire remained beneath the steel bottom. The flames that rose from the neatly arranged stones flickered with what could be no less than excitement at the magic that fed them. And indeed, these flames ate quite hungrily, like lion cubs at a feast offered by the matron of their tribe. Bloodshine, like a good old matron, had set up for a familiar ritual and was expelling all her energy in pleasing the spirits to get it right this time. She had decided that this evening she would call upon powers offered to the few witch doctor's of the Sandfury who had gained respect of Zum'rah. Tonight she would call upon the spirits of the dead for advice, and with this power derived from the dark and depressing arts of necromancy (which, if anyone is aware of Sandfury lore, had been the main reason why he people have survived as they have been able to in the harsh desert of Tanaris) she would force their aid of her quest. One of them would be able to show her how to garnish pieces of fragmented and lost souls. There was more power out there to be had, and Bloodshine would find it.
Bloodshine could feel the magic working. Numerous evenings she had tried this, and would receive little more than a wisp or simply a weakling spirit of which she would distastefully dispose of in anger. The spirit she felt that she was pulling to her was strong, alert, and had some heart to it. Good, she thought to herself. This one could help her. She would force it to.
Dark blue tendrils of whispy smoke danced in front of the troll, and through this portal Kyfur emerged. Bloodshine didn't even blink, her dark blue eyes set upon the little goblin spirit. This was not who she expected, nor who she wanted within her ritual chamber in the forest. Her gaze became hard, hateful, foretelling of the cruelty she would be sure to bestow onto this spirit for getting in her way. She understood that the poor dear was just in the wrong place at the wrong time of course, she knew how the world, and the underworld, worked. But she didn't care. Her gaze of distaste was suddenly interrupted when this little goblin sheepishly folded his arms back behind him as if he was embarrassed! When he smirked, introduced himself and then asked if she could see him, she was more than surprised. She made a move to respond, but was interrupted, not by Kyfur, but by a bright, long winded voice speaking in high pitched tones in quite well spoken orc.
“Oh for goddamned holy light of the Titan's, damnit Bloodshine! That's not who you want, not who you want at all, I told you not to do this tonight, it's not the right time for it, moon isn't right, didn’t' you know, well yes you did but you choose not to listen to me again!”. From behind the troll and to the shock of both Bloodshine and most likely, to the shock of Kyfur as well, appeared a cute little gnome. He was a blond haired, clean shaven mage who spoke the orcish tongue in the most elegant of fashions. His large, clear blue eyes were set on Bloodshine and he seemed set to ignore Kyfur as he berated the troll who seemed to hold the cards of Kyfur's mistaken summoning.
“Now you'll have to put it back again, and we know what happens with that, such a mess for the lost spirit and never mind that mess that you leave behind and leave to me to put away for when we need the artifacts next time, what a mess of things this is, and this isn't even who or what we want!” The little gnome paused and stormed up to Kyfur and looked him up and down. The two were just about the same height, but the little gnome had to arch his neck back to gaze at Kyfur since his spirit was locked in an unseen prison above the flames. “It's a wretched goblin.....a GOBLIN!!!!! Bloodshine.....a.....” The gnome stopped when he realized that Bloodshine had completely shut him off and that she was not, as he was about to demand, preparing to do away with the spirit and destroy it. Instead, Bloodshine's gaze had calmed and she replied softly to Kyfur when the gnome finally decided to shut the hell up.
“Yes, I can see you.” Her raspy voice spoke gently while she stepped forward to put a hand on the gnome's shoulder. The gnome snarled and threw up his fat, pudgy little hands and stormed a few feet away, leaving Bloodshine to do whatever it was she planned to do with the goblin spirit. The gnome didn't know, couldn't stop it, and really, shouldn't care. Bloodshine cared, and that was what mattered at this point in time.
“Did you say your name is Kyfur?” Bloodshine's voice was like a purr, despite that rasp that resounded deep in her throat. It could catch a soul, especially a lost soul like this little goblin, off guard. Her simple, raspy tones spoke of comfort and safety.
That name most definitely rang a bell. She thought hard and mentally snapped her fingers as it came to her. This was the Grim that had been murdered by a fellow warrior that broke the cardinal rule of dark followers who still maintained some form of honor. She had made note of his head hanging in the guild halls, and had decided that she was not responsible for cleaning it up, and then had happily left it there, basking in the chaos it brought to her brethren. How a mighty Grim had allowed themselves a beheading by a brother or sister was beyond her. Obviously his death had set his spirit on a path of roaming for all eternity, and perhaps even a portion of insanity had been gifted him, as this type of meaningless death often brings to the simple spirits of the world. She sniffed the air, trying to discern if he had yet lost his mind. No, he was still too cocky with that fake sheepish stance and that wretched little smirk on his face to have lost his mind this early on. Perhaps there was something to this little goblin, even if he did let himself get knocked off.
Bloodshine would hear from this little goblin, and first determine his true origins. And apparently, since he was still here, the little gnome would also hear. Besides, even though this Kyfur was responsible for a ruined ritual and for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, this could prove interesting. Kyfur's soul and spirit belonged to no other than Bloodshine for the time-being, and there was likely no escape for Kyfur's soul now. Bloodshine grinned.
Bloodshine could feel the magic working. Numerous evenings she had tried this, and would receive little more than a wisp or simply a weakling spirit of which she would distastefully dispose of in anger. The spirit she felt that she was pulling to her was strong, alert, and had some heart to it. Good, she thought to herself. This one could help her. She would force it to.
Dark blue tendrils of whispy smoke danced in front of the troll, and through this portal Kyfur emerged. Bloodshine didn't even blink, her dark blue eyes set upon the little goblin spirit. This was not who she expected, nor who she wanted within her ritual chamber in the forest. Her gaze became hard, hateful, foretelling of the cruelty she would be sure to bestow onto this spirit for getting in her way. She understood that the poor dear was just in the wrong place at the wrong time of course, she knew how the world, and the underworld, worked. But she didn't care. Her gaze of distaste was suddenly interrupted when this little goblin sheepishly folded his arms back behind him as if he was embarrassed! When he smirked, introduced himself and then asked if she could see him, she was more than surprised. She made a move to respond, but was interrupted, not by Kyfur, but by a bright, long winded voice speaking in high pitched tones in quite well spoken orc.
“Oh for goddamned holy light of the Titan's, damnit Bloodshine! That's not who you want, not who you want at all, I told you not to do this tonight, it's not the right time for it, moon isn't right, didn’t' you know, well yes you did but you choose not to listen to me again!”. From behind the troll and to the shock of both Bloodshine and most likely, to the shock of Kyfur as well, appeared a cute little gnome. He was a blond haired, clean shaven mage who spoke the orcish tongue in the most elegant of fashions. His large, clear blue eyes were set on Bloodshine and he seemed set to ignore Kyfur as he berated the troll who seemed to hold the cards of Kyfur's mistaken summoning.
“Now you'll have to put it back again, and we know what happens with that, such a mess for the lost spirit and never mind that mess that you leave behind and leave to me to put away for when we need the artifacts next time, what a mess of things this is, and this isn't even who or what we want!” The little gnome paused and stormed up to Kyfur and looked him up and down. The two were just about the same height, but the little gnome had to arch his neck back to gaze at Kyfur since his spirit was locked in an unseen prison above the flames. “It's a wretched goblin.....a GOBLIN!!!!! Bloodshine.....a.....” The gnome stopped when he realized that Bloodshine had completely shut him off and that she was not, as he was about to demand, preparing to do away with the spirit and destroy it. Instead, Bloodshine's gaze had calmed and she replied softly to Kyfur when the gnome finally decided to shut the hell up.
“Yes, I can see you.” Her raspy voice spoke gently while she stepped forward to put a hand on the gnome's shoulder. The gnome snarled and threw up his fat, pudgy little hands and stormed a few feet away, leaving Bloodshine to do whatever it was she planned to do with the goblin spirit. The gnome didn't know, couldn't stop it, and really, shouldn't care. Bloodshine cared, and that was what mattered at this point in time.
“Did you say your name is Kyfur?” Bloodshine's voice was like a purr, despite that rasp that resounded deep in her throat. It could catch a soul, especially a lost soul like this little goblin, off guard. Her simple, raspy tones spoke of comfort and safety.
That name most definitely rang a bell. She thought hard and mentally snapped her fingers as it came to her. This was the Grim that had been murdered by a fellow warrior that broke the cardinal rule of dark followers who still maintained some form of honor. She had made note of his head hanging in the guild halls, and had decided that she was not responsible for cleaning it up, and then had happily left it there, basking in the chaos it brought to her brethren. How a mighty Grim had allowed themselves a beheading by a brother or sister was beyond her. Obviously his death had set his spirit on a path of roaming for all eternity, and perhaps even a portion of insanity had been gifted him, as this type of meaningless death often brings to the simple spirits of the world. She sniffed the air, trying to discern if he had yet lost his mind. No, he was still too cocky with that fake sheepish stance and that wretched little smirk on his face to have lost his mind this early on. Perhaps there was something to this little goblin, even if he did let himself get knocked off.
Bloodshine would hear from this little goblin, and first determine his true origins. And apparently, since he was still here, the little gnome would also hear. Besides, even though this Kyfur was responsible for a ruined ritual and for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, this could prove interesting. Kyfur's soul and spirit belonged to no other than Bloodshine for the time-being, and there was likely no escape for Kyfur's soul now. Bloodshine grinned.
Re: Knithawks Demise
Kyfur eyed the gnome up and down in a racist fashion. "Where d'ya shop fer clothes? Da baby section!" Lacking a sense of humor, it was all he had. Kyfur chuckled to himself a little at the rare chance to toss a one-liner at someone shorter than himself. He then turned his attention to the troll who had brought him there.
"Lemme tell ya somethin' toots, today's yer lucky day! I'll tell ya what, you's guys summoned da right spirit! I gots some inside info on some tangs dat can make you, (Kyfur hesitates) and your little friend here, a wealthy troll!" He paused, "And gnome!"
Kyfur looks at the gnome again and without losing eye contact, he leans into Bloodshine putting his spirit hand between his mouth and the gnome and whispers, "Whats da deal with da gnome?" The goblin turned to look at bloodshine, who met his inquisitive look with a devious glare. Kyfur quickly changed the subject, scared of losing his chance at life again.
"Did I tell ya I can make ya rich? I did right? RIGHT! I gots everytang set up. I'm in dis certain uh, gobo clan ya see. We gots some insiders in da Brawlers Guild, dere in Orgimmar. Some of 'em may know how to... eeeh, lose ta win, if yas knows wat I'm sayin'." A grim smirk crept across his face. "Only problem is, I'm dead." The smirk crept away.
"Yous guys wouldn't know how to restore me to my headless body would ya?"
"Lemme tell ya somethin' toots, today's yer lucky day! I'll tell ya what, you's guys summoned da right spirit! I gots some inside info on some tangs dat can make you, (Kyfur hesitates) and your little friend here, a wealthy troll!" He paused, "And gnome!"
Kyfur looks at the gnome again and without losing eye contact, he leans into Bloodshine putting his spirit hand between his mouth and the gnome and whispers, "Whats da deal with da gnome?" The goblin turned to look at bloodshine, who met his inquisitive look with a devious glare. Kyfur quickly changed the subject, scared of losing his chance at life again.
"Did I tell ya I can make ya rich? I did right? RIGHT! I gots everytang set up. I'm in dis certain uh, gobo clan ya see. We gots some insiders in da Brawlers Guild, dere in Orgimmar. Some of 'em may know how to... eeeh, lose ta win, if yas knows wat I'm sayin'." A grim smirk crept across his face. "Only problem is, I'm dead." The smirk crept away.
"Yous guys wouldn't know how to restore me to my headless body would ya?"
PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION, AT ANY COST!
Re: Knithawks Demise
“Little Kyfur, be quiet.” Bloodshine's raspy voice was strangely sweet to the ears, even though at this point she was not at all impressed with our little goblin friend here. “If I wanted to be rich I would have become so ages ago.”
Kyfur's little green face became full of anticipation. Her realized quickly that perhaps trying to lure the troll and her odd pick of a companion into the thoughts of gold and riches was a mistake. But, Bloodshine did not mean to disappoint her new little friend. He was a Grim, after all. She knew that she couldn't just leave him to his aimless fate. It was not the way of a fellow Grim.
“There is a dilemma that I have right now, little Kyfur.” The troll said whimsically, yet with that damn, tainted rasp of hers. Kyfur's face fell, but then brightened at Bloodshine's next statement. “But I could restore you back to life. I know where your head is, if you could show me to your body.”
There came a bit of a racket from behind Bloodshine as the little gnome had begun to saddle up an old black drake. The beast was not in the mood to return to his transportation duties so quickly. He was used to Bloodshine taking hours at these rituals, to which he was able to rest and occupy himself with blowing smoke rings around his head. Now he was snorting red smoke through his cracked nostrils, a pure display of rebellion. The gnome ignored him and with but a flick of a fat little wrist, shot a small ball of fire up the drake's nose. Coughing and splattering with the flames licking his very throat, the drake figured out he better chill out or face the wrath of a gnome that had more firepower than he did.
Kyfur felt the restraints that had held him over the fire lesson, and he was free to move as he pleased. He took immense pleasure in this, as relief flooded him. But as he relaxed, his suddenly felt a panic as Bloodshine came close to him, her blue eyes locked on his with deliberate intent. “I will help you, but you need to help me. You see, that gnome back there, you can't tell anyone about him and I don't trust goblins. But I can't leave you here to become a decrepit spirit since I know you hold ties to the same war guild as me. That would be ever so.....unGrim of me. Wouldn't you say? But this wouldn't be.....”
Kyfur would most likely have promised Bloodshine the sun and the moon that he wouldn't make a peep, but Bloodshine didn't give him the opportunity to. Before he could open his mouth, he felt the most miserable of sensations. Deep within his soul there was a tearing, as Bloodshine stole part of the goblin's soul. He felt his spirit weaken, but before the misery became any worse, it was over. He felt off as if something was missing, or perhaps replaced. What had the troll done?
“You will show me your body, and I will retrieve your head. And you will never speak of what you have seen here this evening.” Bloodshine smiled lovingly at Kyfur, the nod of her head that she gave to him full of confidence. A piece of his very being, his soul, was now in her possession. Just like the Soul Eaters of her past that she had attempted to do away with, she used that art to gain control of Kyfur. This request could not be denied.
The little gnome brought the drake to Bloodshine and she took the reigns without a glance to him. The gnome stood there with a look of disappointment.
“Thank you, Tranquility. I may need you later, listen to your hearthstone.” Bloodshine leaned down and kissed the gnome, Tranquility, on the top of his blond haired head. She then climbed onto the drake and motioned for Kyfur to lead the way. “Let's go, and hurry it up. This is not how I planned to spend my evening”.
Kyfur's little green face became full of anticipation. Her realized quickly that perhaps trying to lure the troll and her odd pick of a companion into the thoughts of gold and riches was a mistake. But, Bloodshine did not mean to disappoint her new little friend. He was a Grim, after all. She knew that she couldn't just leave him to his aimless fate. It was not the way of a fellow Grim.
“There is a dilemma that I have right now, little Kyfur.” The troll said whimsically, yet with that damn, tainted rasp of hers. Kyfur's face fell, but then brightened at Bloodshine's next statement. “But I could restore you back to life. I know where your head is, if you could show me to your body.”
There came a bit of a racket from behind Bloodshine as the little gnome had begun to saddle up an old black drake. The beast was not in the mood to return to his transportation duties so quickly. He was used to Bloodshine taking hours at these rituals, to which he was able to rest and occupy himself with blowing smoke rings around his head. Now he was snorting red smoke through his cracked nostrils, a pure display of rebellion. The gnome ignored him and with but a flick of a fat little wrist, shot a small ball of fire up the drake's nose. Coughing and splattering with the flames licking his very throat, the drake figured out he better chill out or face the wrath of a gnome that had more firepower than he did.
Kyfur felt the restraints that had held him over the fire lesson, and he was free to move as he pleased. He took immense pleasure in this, as relief flooded him. But as he relaxed, his suddenly felt a panic as Bloodshine came close to him, her blue eyes locked on his with deliberate intent. “I will help you, but you need to help me. You see, that gnome back there, you can't tell anyone about him and I don't trust goblins. But I can't leave you here to become a decrepit spirit since I know you hold ties to the same war guild as me. That would be ever so.....unGrim of me. Wouldn't you say? But this wouldn't be.....”
Kyfur would most likely have promised Bloodshine the sun and the moon that he wouldn't make a peep, but Bloodshine didn't give him the opportunity to. Before he could open his mouth, he felt the most miserable of sensations. Deep within his soul there was a tearing, as Bloodshine stole part of the goblin's soul. He felt his spirit weaken, but before the misery became any worse, it was over. He felt off as if something was missing, or perhaps replaced. What had the troll done?
“You will show me your body, and I will retrieve your head. And you will never speak of what you have seen here this evening.” Bloodshine smiled lovingly at Kyfur, the nod of her head that she gave to him full of confidence. A piece of his very being, his soul, was now in her possession. Just like the Soul Eaters of her past that she had attempted to do away with, she used that art to gain control of Kyfur. This request could not be denied.
The little gnome brought the drake to Bloodshine and she took the reigns without a glance to him. The gnome stood there with a look of disappointment.
“Thank you, Tranquility. I may need you later, listen to your hearthstone.” Bloodshine leaned down and kissed the gnome, Tranquility, on the top of his blond haired head. She then climbed onto the drake and motioned for Kyfur to lead the way. “Let's go, and hurry it up. This is not how I planned to spend my evening”.
Re: Knithawks Demise
Kyfur gazed at the fire breathing drake, then gave Bloodshine a trembling look. "You know how ta keep control a dat ting right?" The drake sneezed blowing out smoke and fire, Kyfur jumped back looking up at Bloodshine terrified, who gave him a hearty chuckle followed by a reassuring nod.
"My ol' man told me ta neva trust anyting you didn't build wit yer own hands..." Kyfur paused, "one night afta he robbed my swine bank ta go gambelin'... Cheap bastad."
"I'll lead da way, you keep dat damn drake no closa dan twenty yards behind me, got it toots?"
And with that, the two took off to go gather Kyfurs' body outside of Knithawks crypt.
Kyfur stopped just outside Deathknell, Bloodshine came to a halt a sarcastic hundred yards behind him smirking. The goblin waved his arms in an aggravated manor, motioning her to come closer.
She flew in and dismounted her drake kneeling down beside the goblin.
"Dere it is. Just beyond dat treeline dere. Dis is as fah as I'm a goin! I tink dat cockroach ate most of ol' Knittys' brains out, he ain't like he used ta be dats for sure, and I don't trust em'. I ain't sure if he's dere or not, but If'n I was yous, I'd get in an get out as quick as possible. I'll meetcha back at da halls toots!"
"My ol' man told me ta neva trust anyting you didn't build wit yer own hands..." Kyfur paused, "one night afta he robbed my swine bank ta go gambelin'... Cheap bastad."
"I'll lead da way, you keep dat damn drake no closa dan twenty yards behind me, got it toots?"
And with that, the two took off to go gather Kyfurs' body outside of Knithawks crypt.
Kyfur stopped just outside Deathknell, Bloodshine came to a halt a sarcastic hundred yards behind him smirking. The goblin waved his arms in an aggravated manor, motioning her to come closer.
She flew in and dismounted her drake kneeling down beside the goblin.
"Dere it is. Just beyond dat treeline dere. Dis is as fah as I'm a goin! I tink dat cockroach ate most of ol' Knittys' brains out, he ain't like he used ta be dats for sure, and I don't trust em'. I ain't sure if he's dere or not, but If'n I was yous, I'd get in an get out as quick as possible. I'll meetcha back at da halls toots!"
PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION, AT ANY COST!
Re: Knithawks Demise
*Meanwhile on the Timeless Isle*
Knithawk gazed at the sunset, wondering how long he had been in this bloodthirsty haze. The sun beamed down on the forsaken, who was now weakened and sick from the ritual he had just recited to the demigod Ordos. The mage conjured some pudding and sat down to eat the pandarien dish, gaining nourishment as well as easing his headache. He knew the officers of The Grim had told him not to tinker with the magic of the Ordos, however the mage was on his own mission. After he had awoken from the slumber Kyfur had put him under, He had come back to a whole new roster of Grim. Supplicants, now inquisitors, inquisitors now dreadweavers. It was only days after Awatu (now the commander of the guild ) was promoted to the rank of head inquisitor, Kyfur put Knithawk into the coma that lasted longer than a full calendar year. All was changed to the mage and Knithawk wasn't fond of change.
His attention turned to an apple, hanging off a tall pandarien tree, gleaming in the suns' glare. He thought about all of his old friends.
Bryii, the paladin he had grown to admire. He wondered if maybe he had a shot at her. She didn't know all of his genitalia had rotted off.
His attention went to Ashenfury, the shaman that he had encountered in the spirit realm, long before he was awakened by a val'kyr.
Grendze, the goblin rogue. One of the few to brave the arenas with the mage.
His train of thought was suddenly broken when he saw a gnomish mage ascending the mountain to bring down Ordos' army.
With a smirk on his face, Knithawk summoned his war-wolf and departed after the little gnome. After a short time of galloping, hungering for the little blonde-headed creature, the undead caught up to him. He was fighting Huolon, (a rare creature that appears on the isle) alongside a mix of Horde and Alliance. Knithawk froze the mage in place, then leaped for his neck, devouring the gnome where he stood. The forsaken then looked up and in a bloody rage, he blinked and launched for his next victim. Using his frost magic he locked everyone and everything in place. Blinded by bloodthirst, Knithawk went from victim to victim until everything around him seized to be. Not looking back, he mounted his war-wolf and headed back to where he was, before the gnomish mage interrupted his train of thought.
It was a nice place in the middle of a tree thicket, overlooking the entrance where many go to slay emissarys of Ordos. 'Heroes', he thought. The forsaken mage looked up into the sunset again and admired the same apple he had been eyeing before. "Ehh, why the fel not..." said the undead as he grabbed the apple to take a bite. He bit into the apples juicy pulp. After a few chomps, Knithawk realized nothing tastes the same without first smoking the finest of gnomish herbs. He instantly thought of Ashenfury. Wondered if he had written Knithawk off like the rest of The Grim. It was odd not hearing from his long time ally he wondered if Ash might be back in the spirit realm. But mainly, he wondered where the those delicious gnomish herbs could be found.
Coming back to reality, Knithawk spit out the mouthful of apple and rode to the edge of the sea, west of the Timeless isle. The mage swam out a ways, making sure he wasn't followed, then took the form of a sandstone drake and flew to Ashenfurys' cave.
As he arrived at the grinning skull carved upon the face of the Wailing Caverns, the forsaken admired the layout and location of the cave Ashenfury stayed in. He fluttered in front of it for a minute and noticed the orc asleep. Snickering, Knithawk teleported in and shouted as loud and demonic as possible, "JOIN US!!! MUHWAHAHAHA!!!"
Knithawk gazed at the sunset, wondering how long he had been in this bloodthirsty haze. The sun beamed down on the forsaken, who was now weakened and sick from the ritual he had just recited to the demigod Ordos. The mage conjured some pudding and sat down to eat the pandarien dish, gaining nourishment as well as easing his headache. He knew the officers of The Grim had told him not to tinker with the magic of the Ordos, however the mage was on his own mission. After he had awoken from the slumber Kyfur had put him under, He had come back to a whole new roster of Grim. Supplicants, now inquisitors, inquisitors now dreadweavers. It was only days after Awatu (now the commander of the guild ) was promoted to the rank of head inquisitor, Kyfur put Knithawk into the coma that lasted longer than a full calendar year. All was changed to the mage and Knithawk wasn't fond of change.
His attention turned to an apple, hanging off a tall pandarien tree, gleaming in the suns' glare. He thought about all of his old friends.
Bryii, the paladin he had grown to admire. He wondered if maybe he had a shot at her. She didn't know all of his genitalia had rotted off.
His attention went to Ashenfury, the shaman that he had encountered in the spirit realm, long before he was awakened by a val'kyr.
Grendze, the goblin rogue. One of the few to brave the arenas with the mage.
His train of thought was suddenly broken when he saw a gnomish mage ascending the mountain to bring down Ordos' army.
With a smirk on his face, Knithawk summoned his war-wolf and departed after the little gnome. After a short time of galloping, hungering for the little blonde-headed creature, the undead caught up to him. He was fighting Huolon, (a rare creature that appears on the isle) alongside a mix of Horde and Alliance. Knithawk froze the mage in place, then leaped for his neck, devouring the gnome where he stood. The forsaken then looked up and in a bloody rage, he blinked and launched for his next victim. Using his frost magic he locked everyone and everything in place. Blinded by bloodthirst, Knithawk went from victim to victim until everything around him seized to be. Not looking back, he mounted his war-wolf and headed back to where he was, before the gnomish mage interrupted his train of thought.
It was a nice place in the middle of a tree thicket, overlooking the entrance where many go to slay emissarys of Ordos. 'Heroes', he thought. The forsaken mage looked up into the sunset again and admired the same apple he had been eyeing before. "Ehh, why the fel not..." said the undead as he grabbed the apple to take a bite. He bit into the apples juicy pulp. After a few chomps, Knithawk realized nothing tastes the same without first smoking the finest of gnomish herbs. He instantly thought of Ashenfury. Wondered if he had written Knithawk off like the rest of The Grim. It was odd not hearing from his long time ally he wondered if Ash might be back in the spirit realm. But mainly, he wondered where the those delicious gnomish herbs could be found.
Coming back to reality, Knithawk spit out the mouthful of apple and rode to the edge of the sea, west of the Timeless isle. The mage swam out a ways, making sure he wasn't followed, then took the form of a sandstone drake and flew to Ashenfurys' cave.
As he arrived at the grinning skull carved upon the face of the Wailing Caverns, the forsaken admired the layout and location of the cave Ashenfury stayed in. He fluttered in front of it for a minute and noticed the orc asleep. Snickering, Knithawk teleported in and shouted as loud and demonic as possible, "JOIN US!!! MUHWAHAHAHA!!!"
PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION, AT ANY COST!
Re: Knithawks Demise
Bloodshine stood and gazed to where Kyfur gestured as he started to dash away. Her face contorted in a brief show of annoyance when he once more called her “toots”. She tapped a black tusk. Would she encounter trouble if Knithawk were present if she ventured to steal away Kyfur's tiny little body? She pondered that for a moment, deciding if this was worth it. Kyfur caught her look, and could tell by the shine in her blue eyes that she was reconsidering. The resounding “peep” that came out of the little goblin's spirit caught Bloodshine off guard. My, but this one is certainly worried for that soul of his, she thought smugly. She smiled warmly at Kyfur, and shrugged off her doubt. She was far more skilled that that little undead mage called Knithawk. And besides, Kyfur wasn't far off in his belief that cockroaches had devoured what was left of his brain. She doubted that he was much different before the plague that took him as an undead. Knithawk seemed to have that psychotic demeanor that simply exists past the ages. If he were to change into a toad he would be just as strange as he is as an undead. She wouldn't worry about that one.
Returning to the saddle, Bloodshine had the drake fly her the rest of the rest of the way, dropping just out of sight of the crypt itself. With an authoritative hand, Bloodshine gestured that her mount remain behind. Moving with catlike grace, her form, lithe for that of an ancient troll, crept silently past the graves and other crypts, until she found her way towards the one that Knithawk had laid claim too. She saw Kyfur's body resting beside the cold stone, a forgotten soul to which someone wished to state just how unworthy he was of a proper burial. Her cold blue eyes looked at the little green body with reproach. No wonder his spirit was lost, after having been murdered and played with in such a manner. She lifted the decaying body, and wrapped him in some cloth when she returned to the drake. It didn't take her long to retrieve his head for all she had to do was stride into the guild hall, pluck it from it's gruesome perch, and leave. She nodded to her fellow Grim who were there, tossing mischievous grins here and there as she so publicly walked out with Kyfur's decaying head held limply in her taloned hand by a goblin ear. She embarrassed herself when the ear detached, slightly dried and crumbling, and tumbled to the floor with a heavy sounding plop. She hissed and picked the head back up, along with the withered piece of ear and looked to see who witnessed that awful spectacle.
As she left the guild hall and reunited body and head, securely wrapped, she found herself shaking her head, somewhat baffled at what she was doing. Indeed, this little goblin was a Grim, and deserving of more respect than being left to rot half in the guild hall, and half lost beside his murderer's crypt. She wondered why another Grim hadn't attempted to retrieve his body and return his wandering soul before this level of decay had taken Kyfur. At this point his body was beyond the help of many. She didn't even think that there had been any talk of returning Kyfur to his rightful self. No talk of once again returning him as a soldier of the Grim. To be truthful even Bloodshine had found twisted delight at the sight of Kyfur's head piked ever so boldly for the Grim to see. The chaos gave her excitement. She shrugged, this was exciting as well, and she had secured safety for her gnome companion in ripping part of Kyfur's soul for that of her own. She couldn't let that little tidbit of information out. Trolls and gnomes, how absolutely absurd!
Kyfur found Bloodshine chuckling to herself with his lower half and head wrapped in white cloth by the old troll's feet. Bloodshine was leaning against one of the barns beside the guild hall, the undead horses within it whinnying at the hopeful memory of hay and grain even in death. Her brow raised as Kyfur approached. The little goblin looked at her expectantly, and Bloodshine simply stared at him with a the same look of reproach she had for his body when she found it at Knithawk's crypt.
“Come on my friend, you'll need more than a simple resurrection, or Zum'rah will have your soul.” She didn't wait for Kyfur, and instead whisked up his dead parts in her arms and stalked back to her drake and mounted. She spoke to Kyfur as she moved, explaining his condition to him. For those who may have been outside at the time, Bloodshine looked as if she was talking to the decapitated decomposing goblin. She looked quite mad. This only made Bloodshine speak more, and laugh at the thought of her seeming senile, for she most certainly looked it. She hollered to the empty air before her when Kyfur jittered and called her “toots” and she hollered even more when he hesitated in following the drake even though he was a spirit, and he had more to fear from her than the drake.
She brought them back to her glade and to where she had first mistakenly called upon this little spirit. She placed Kyfur's body with care upon the large stone near the fire pit. She unwrapped the head and then the body, arranging them so that he looked somewhat like himself. Except Kyfur wasn't himself. An ear was missing, his eyes were gone, having rotted first, as eyeballs do. The empty sockets gave him a horrified, desperate look. His body, withered in some places and oozing in others, chunks of skin already gone, was a body far beyond the aid of a regular priest, paladin, shaman or druid. There was bone and sinewy muscle exposed. The left side of his ribcage was visible, blackened and graying organs decaying within. The spirit had been gone too long, and no one had prepared and maintained the body for a possible return (since she and the rest of the Grim were too busy gloating over the hapless head left to rot in their own halls). Bloodshine knew what to do with Kyfur's body. She had done it with her daughter, after her soul was taken by her fellow Grim and her body lay dead, with no soul to return to it. She could heal Kyfur with ease.
Surrounding Kyfur and Bloodshine were tall trees, their limbs pulsated with some strange, darker power. They encircled the glade, and hummed with an eerie song that intertwined from limb to limb. The melody sank down into the very roots of the trees and stained the ground and grass. This power spoke of the elements, but Bloodshine had twisted it somehow. This magic had been tainted with a darkness that still pulled from the power of the elements. It wasn't dark shaman magic however, that awful magic where the elements are forced and confused into following the will of the shaman, but it wasn't friendly magic either. One would have to know this magic to decide if it was sinister or not.
Bloodshine readied some ingredients, tossing them into an old black caldron. She ignored Kyfur's questioning, and she even ignored him when he called her “toots”, so engrossed she was in her task. She placed her hands under Kyfur's decaying body, and moved to raise the head and the body together, then stopped. Her blue eyes took on a hateful and mischievous gleam. She gently lowered his body back, shaking her head. Kyfur watched, his mouth agape, not knowing what she was doing. Bloodshine stepped back, her arms and head raised to the sky as she called upon a power other than the familiar power of Azeroth's kind spirits to return Kyfur to his body.
Kyfur felt a pulling, first in his midsection, as if she was being pulled out of himself. Then the feeling spread, and he found himself moving against his will, as when Bloodshine had first caught him in her ritual. He cried out, as this most certainly did not feel like resurrections of the past, or even the spirit healers harsh gift of raising oneself at her stone when all else failed. This feeling rose a panic deep within it, and everything told him to resist, to fight against this. Whatever Bloodshine had called upon to “save” Kyfur was wrong and dangerous. He wanted no part on this! The little goblin dug his heels into the ground when he realized what Bloodshine was up to, but he was but a spirit, and at the whim of those who controlled the spirits. That wretched old shaman was putting him back into his body while it lay in decay and disorder. She wouldn't do that to him, she couldn't do that to him!
But Bloodshine was indeed daring to return Kyfur to his body before it was healed, while it still lay dead and gone. Her true art was that of a witch doctor and of necromancy. Her craft of a shaman was out of necessity to the horde at this point. Bloodshine was good at manipulating the world around her that even the elements to which she often called hadn't a clue of her true motives. She spoke to the spirits and caressed them with love and respect, even if she did not believe in that herself. Now though, she didn't speak to the spirits. She spoke to something else.
Kyfur's world began to spin in a wild circle of black tusks, red hair and dark trees. He thought he heard the name “Zum'rah”, muttered and whispered whimsically by a strange voice, too deep to be Bloodshine's, but he couldn't be sure. He felt his spirit split in half and then return again. When it all stopped, he was looking down his own long nose onto a wet stone. His head seemed attached to his body when he was sure that moments ago, as a spirit, it had been still ever so severed. He tried to move, and found that everything worked. He looked at his hands and that was when horror stuck him. Decayed, corroded, dead hands. He stood, and took stock of his situation. He was “together”, meaning, his head had knitted back to his body, but his body was dead. His voice would not respond, for his voicebox had caved in days ago. His body was still dead. Bloodshine had only put his soul into his dead body and reanimated the decomposing green corpse in some joke of necromancy with the added laugh of a soul.
Indeed, Bloodshine was laughing. She laughed at the way Kyfur raced around, limping and stumbling, and she laughed at how his mouth gaped open, trying to find the words and sounds that would never come to explain his protest. Eventually she grabbed the goblin in her arms. She drew his dead face up to hers, her black tusks touching his cheeks. “Be still, sweet Kyfur, I will do as I said I would. I won't disappoint you.” Her old voice rasped sweetly and her blue eyes locked calmly on Kyfur's empty eye sockets. Kyfur found himself lulled into this strange security and safety that the old troll promised in her raspy tones. Well, he was lulled until she unceremoniously dropped him into the caldron she had been busying herself with just moments ago.
Kyfur found himself immersed in a strange, bubbling goo. Strange items such as snake skins, tiny blue fingers that could only belong to a night elf child, the orc scrotum he had seen hanging in the glade when he first came across Bloodshine, and other unsightly things floated disgustingly into his mouth, into his eyes, and burned his very soul. He reached for the edge of the caldron to climb out.
“Now stay there, Kyfur!” Bloodshine appeared over the caldron and pushed his hands back in. “You need to cook in there for a time before you can come out. I'll heal you then, but your body needs some regrowth, eh?” She began to walk away, chuckling. She paused and turned once more. “Stay!” She roared. If Kyfur could have glared with his eyes, he would have. Bloodshine could very well have done this first, but chose not to. Bloodshine had chose to give Kyfur what he asked for, but at the price of her amusement. Witch.
Returning to the saddle, Bloodshine had the drake fly her the rest of the rest of the way, dropping just out of sight of the crypt itself. With an authoritative hand, Bloodshine gestured that her mount remain behind. Moving with catlike grace, her form, lithe for that of an ancient troll, crept silently past the graves and other crypts, until she found her way towards the one that Knithawk had laid claim too. She saw Kyfur's body resting beside the cold stone, a forgotten soul to which someone wished to state just how unworthy he was of a proper burial. Her cold blue eyes looked at the little green body with reproach. No wonder his spirit was lost, after having been murdered and played with in such a manner. She lifted the decaying body, and wrapped him in some cloth when she returned to the drake. It didn't take her long to retrieve his head for all she had to do was stride into the guild hall, pluck it from it's gruesome perch, and leave. She nodded to her fellow Grim who were there, tossing mischievous grins here and there as she so publicly walked out with Kyfur's decaying head held limply in her taloned hand by a goblin ear. She embarrassed herself when the ear detached, slightly dried and crumbling, and tumbled to the floor with a heavy sounding plop. She hissed and picked the head back up, along with the withered piece of ear and looked to see who witnessed that awful spectacle.
As she left the guild hall and reunited body and head, securely wrapped, she found herself shaking her head, somewhat baffled at what she was doing. Indeed, this little goblin was a Grim, and deserving of more respect than being left to rot half in the guild hall, and half lost beside his murderer's crypt. She wondered why another Grim hadn't attempted to retrieve his body and return his wandering soul before this level of decay had taken Kyfur. At this point his body was beyond the help of many. She didn't even think that there had been any talk of returning Kyfur to his rightful self. No talk of once again returning him as a soldier of the Grim. To be truthful even Bloodshine had found twisted delight at the sight of Kyfur's head piked ever so boldly for the Grim to see. The chaos gave her excitement. She shrugged, this was exciting as well, and she had secured safety for her gnome companion in ripping part of Kyfur's soul for that of her own. She couldn't let that little tidbit of information out. Trolls and gnomes, how absolutely absurd!
Kyfur found Bloodshine chuckling to herself with his lower half and head wrapped in white cloth by the old troll's feet. Bloodshine was leaning against one of the barns beside the guild hall, the undead horses within it whinnying at the hopeful memory of hay and grain even in death. Her brow raised as Kyfur approached. The little goblin looked at her expectantly, and Bloodshine simply stared at him with a the same look of reproach she had for his body when she found it at Knithawk's crypt.
“Come on my friend, you'll need more than a simple resurrection, or Zum'rah will have your soul.” She didn't wait for Kyfur, and instead whisked up his dead parts in her arms and stalked back to her drake and mounted. She spoke to Kyfur as she moved, explaining his condition to him. For those who may have been outside at the time, Bloodshine looked as if she was talking to the decapitated decomposing goblin. She looked quite mad. This only made Bloodshine speak more, and laugh at the thought of her seeming senile, for she most certainly looked it. She hollered to the empty air before her when Kyfur jittered and called her “toots” and she hollered even more when he hesitated in following the drake even though he was a spirit, and he had more to fear from her than the drake.
She brought them back to her glade and to where she had first mistakenly called upon this little spirit. She placed Kyfur's body with care upon the large stone near the fire pit. She unwrapped the head and then the body, arranging them so that he looked somewhat like himself. Except Kyfur wasn't himself. An ear was missing, his eyes were gone, having rotted first, as eyeballs do. The empty sockets gave him a horrified, desperate look. His body, withered in some places and oozing in others, chunks of skin already gone, was a body far beyond the aid of a regular priest, paladin, shaman or druid. There was bone and sinewy muscle exposed. The left side of his ribcage was visible, blackened and graying organs decaying within. The spirit had been gone too long, and no one had prepared and maintained the body for a possible return (since she and the rest of the Grim were too busy gloating over the hapless head left to rot in their own halls). Bloodshine knew what to do with Kyfur's body. She had done it with her daughter, after her soul was taken by her fellow Grim and her body lay dead, with no soul to return to it. She could heal Kyfur with ease.
Surrounding Kyfur and Bloodshine were tall trees, their limbs pulsated with some strange, darker power. They encircled the glade, and hummed with an eerie song that intertwined from limb to limb. The melody sank down into the very roots of the trees and stained the ground and grass. This power spoke of the elements, but Bloodshine had twisted it somehow. This magic had been tainted with a darkness that still pulled from the power of the elements. It wasn't dark shaman magic however, that awful magic where the elements are forced and confused into following the will of the shaman, but it wasn't friendly magic either. One would have to know this magic to decide if it was sinister or not.
Bloodshine readied some ingredients, tossing them into an old black caldron. She ignored Kyfur's questioning, and she even ignored him when he called her “toots”, so engrossed she was in her task. She placed her hands under Kyfur's decaying body, and moved to raise the head and the body together, then stopped. Her blue eyes took on a hateful and mischievous gleam. She gently lowered his body back, shaking her head. Kyfur watched, his mouth agape, not knowing what she was doing. Bloodshine stepped back, her arms and head raised to the sky as she called upon a power other than the familiar power of Azeroth's kind spirits to return Kyfur to his body.
Kyfur felt a pulling, first in his midsection, as if she was being pulled out of himself. Then the feeling spread, and he found himself moving against his will, as when Bloodshine had first caught him in her ritual. He cried out, as this most certainly did not feel like resurrections of the past, or even the spirit healers harsh gift of raising oneself at her stone when all else failed. This feeling rose a panic deep within it, and everything told him to resist, to fight against this. Whatever Bloodshine had called upon to “save” Kyfur was wrong and dangerous. He wanted no part on this! The little goblin dug his heels into the ground when he realized what Bloodshine was up to, but he was but a spirit, and at the whim of those who controlled the spirits. That wretched old shaman was putting him back into his body while it lay in decay and disorder. She wouldn't do that to him, she couldn't do that to him!
But Bloodshine was indeed daring to return Kyfur to his body before it was healed, while it still lay dead and gone. Her true art was that of a witch doctor and of necromancy. Her craft of a shaman was out of necessity to the horde at this point. Bloodshine was good at manipulating the world around her that even the elements to which she often called hadn't a clue of her true motives. She spoke to the spirits and caressed them with love and respect, even if she did not believe in that herself. Now though, she didn't speak to the spirits. She spoke to something else.
Kyfur's world began to spin in a wild circle of black tusks, red hair and dark trees. He thought he heard the name “Zum'rah”, muttered and whispered whimsically by a strange voice, too deep to be Bloodshine's, but he couldn't be sure. He felt his spirit split in half and then return again. When it all stopped, he was looking down his own long nose onto a wet stone. His head seemed attached to his body when he was sure that moments ago, as a spirit, it had been still ever so severed. He tried to move, and found that everything worked. He looked at his hands and that was when horror stuck him. Decayed, corroded, dead hands. He stood, and took stock of his situation. He was “together”, meaning, his head had knitted back to his body, but his body was dead. His voice would not respond, for his voicebox had caved in days ago. His body was still dead. Bloodshine had only put his soul into his dead body and reanimated the decomposing green corpse in some joke of necromancy with the added laugh of a soul.
Indeed, Bloodshine was laughing. She laughed at the way Kyfur raced around, limping and stumbling, and she laughed at how his mouth gaped open, trying to find the words and sounds that would never come to explain his protest. Eventually she grabbed the goblin in her arms. She drew his dead face up to hers, her black tusks touching his cheeks. “Be still, sweet Kyfur, I will do as I said I would. I won't disappoint you.” Her old voice rasped sweetly and her blue eyes locked calmly on Kyfur's empty eye sockets. Kyfur found himself lulled into this strange security and safety that the old troll promised in her raspy tones. Well, he was lulled until she unceremoniously dropped him into the caldron she had been busying herself with just moments ago.
Kyfur found himself immersed in a strange, bubbling goo. Strange items such as snake skins, tiny blue fingers that could only belong to a night elf child, the orc scrotum he had seen hanging in the glade when he first came across Bloodshine, and other unsightly things floated disgustingly into his mouth, into his eyes, and burned his very soul. He reached for the edge of the caldron to climb out.
“Now stay there, Kyfur!” Bloodshine appeared over the caldron and pushed his hands back in. “You need to cook in there for a time before you can come out. I'll heal you then, but your body needs some regrowth, eh?” She began to walk away, chuckling. She paused and turned once more. “Stay!” She roared. If Kyfur could have glared with his eyes, he would have. Bloodshine could very well have done this first, but chose not to. Bloodshine had chose to give Kyfur what he asked for, but at the price of her amusement. Witch.
Re: Knithawks Demise
Word of what had happened to Kyfur had permeated the guild halls. The troll rifled a hand through his white hair and cursed. "Dam it, Knithawk!" Slamming the table he was sitting at, several times in quick succession, Leyujin stood up and raced out the door. Barreling down the guild's corridors, he exited the headquarters and whistled sharply. His observant proto-drake glanced over with a hiss. The troll unleashed his mount from the nearby wall, then vaulted onto its back. Seating himself firmly in the saddle, he slapped the beast's sides, shouting, "Go, go! Grab sky joo ugly bastahd!" The proto-drake shook its wings and leaped into the air. Leaning forward and grabbing the reins, Leyujin muttered darkly to himself. "Crazy joom-lickin' marsh-jumpin' son o' a snail, wut problems joo be makin' now, Knithawk?"
He groaned and slapped a hand against his face, dragging it downwards inexorably. "Dat idjit ain't straight in 'is mind half da time any'ays, no way e' shoulda gone lookin' inta Ordos. Das wut happened. Oh great Loa above an' below, grant dat ah git der fast enuff ta prevent 'is execution!"
He groaned and slapped a hand against his face, dragging it downwards inexorably. "Dat idjit ain't straight in 'is mind half da time any'ays, no way e' shoulda gone lookin' inta Ordos. Das wut happened. Oh great Loa above an' below, grant dat ah git der fast enuff ta prevent 'is execution!"
Re: Knithawks Demise
Ashenfury was asleep on a straw mat with his hands wrapped around his now bulging belly. His snore was that of a tired creature granted respite. Empty gourds of Orcish grog were strewn about the den. His shamanic shadow aggressively danced around the small cave of its own accord. When Knithawk warped into the abode the shadow snapped to attention and disappeared. Knithawk let out a curdling call, "JOIN US!!! MUHWAHAHAHA!!!"
Ashenfury snorted awake and creaked one eye open. Ol' rottbrain looked wild eyed and crazed. Ashenfury sat up and reached for a half filled gourd before standing and grunting. Knithawk advanced on the drunken Orc. Ashenfury stood resolute as the first arcane incantation showered his breastplate in a hail of icicles. The Orc looked down rather confused and took a drink to help ponder the enigma.
Knithawk swung his head from side to side and cackled. He pointed his finger at Ashenfury. The Orc was encased in Ice with his Orcish grog only inches from his lips. He struggled to sip the grog while Knithawk prattled about some island and an amulet. The ice block broke and Ashenfury hit himself in the face with the gourd. He turned it upside down and only a tiny drop escaped the husk onto his wanting tongue.
At this Ashenfury roared. The dying fire burst alive and jumped high enough to lick the ceiling. The Orc's shadow appeared at the ring of the raging blaze and danced with fervor. He stared at the Forsaken and flared his nostrils. Knithawk seemed pleased by the reaction. Ashenfury pulled one of his four belted totems and threw it to the ground. A fire elemental crawled from the fire and glowered over Knithawk. Knithawk rubbed his hands together and coughed up some phlegm before his minion of ice appeared. The elementals locked in battle.
Ashenfury picked up a full gourd then stretched his hand out and whispered. Knithawk shrunk and morphed into a frog with angry eyes. The Orc hiccuped and drunkenly backpedaled toward the entrance. While tottering on the edge he threw his head back and quaffed the grog. In mid swallow he lost his balance and unceremoniously dropped from the entrance to the ground with a thud. The fire died to coals and the dancing shadow disappeared. The crickets and night birds of the swamp paused briefly before resuming their chorus.
Knithawk hopped to the edge of the entrance and inspected the area in search of Ashenfury. As soon as the hex had ended he plucked an eyeball from it's socket and threw it below. The Orc had slipped into the night. In the distance Knithawk could hear the echo of the Orcish warsong through the trees of the swamp.
Ashenfury snorted awake and creaked one eye open. Ol' rottbrain looked wild eyed and crazed. Ashenfury sat up and reached for a half filled gourd before standing and grunting. Knithawk advanced on the drunken Orc. Ashenfury stood resolute as the first arcane incantation showered his breastplate in a hail of icicles. The Orc looked down rather confused and took a drink to help ponder the enigma.
Knithawk swung his head from side to side and cackled. He pointed his finger at Ashenfury. The Orc was encased in Ice with his Orcish grog only inches from his lips. He struggled to sip the grog while Knithawk prattled about some island and an amulet. The ice block broke and Ashenfury hit himself in the face with the gourd. He turned it upside down and only a tiny drop escaped the husk onto his wanting tongue.
At this Ashenfury roared. The dying fire burst alive and jumped high enough to lick the ceiling. The Orc's shadow appeared at the ring of the raging blaze and danced with fervor. He stared at the Forsaken and flared his nostrils. Knithawk seemed pleased by the reaction. Ashenfury pulled one of his four belted totems and threw it to the ground. A fire elemental crawled from the fire and glowered over Knithawk. Knithawk rubbed his hands together and coughed up some phlegm before his minion of ice appeared. The elementals locked in battle.
Ashenfury picked up a full gourd then stretched his hand out and whispered. Knithawk shrunk and morphed into a frog with angry eyes. The Orc hiccuped and drunkenly backpedaled toward the entrance. While tottering on the edge he threw his head back and quaffed the grog. In mid swallow he lost his balance and unceremoniously dropped from the entrance to the ground with a thud. The fire died to coals and the dancing shadow disappeared. The crickets and night birds of the swamp paused briefly before resuming their chorus.
Knithawk hopped to the edge of the entrance and inspected the area in search of Ashenfury. As soon as the hex had ended he plucked an eyeball from it's socket and threw it below. The Orc had slipped into the night. In the distance Knithawk could hear the echo of the Orcish warsong through the trees of the swamp.
Last edited by Ashenfury on Mon Jun 27, 2016 11:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Knithawks Demise
Kyfur sulked in the concoction, naked, for days, or what seemed to him like years. The pain slightly began to subside. The bottom portion of his leg had flipped itself around back to normal. The goblin had regained feeling in his finger tips, his jaw even began to reconstruct itself into that of a 'somewhat normal' goblin. He then submerged himself, leaving only his pierced nose penetrating the surface of the bubbling cauldron.
"Wut'll I do if'n dey find out I robbed ol' Knitty?" The goblin thought to himself. " 'Ell,I DOUBLED his gold, mage was to tick'd ouf ta see wat I did for em." testicle then rolled over Kyfurs' lips and gums, as he jumped out of the stew. "I've had ENOUGH!!!" Is what he meant to say, but Kyfurs vocal chords where to badly decomposed to speak. what came out was a flemy blood splatter, accompanied by a gurgling sound from his neck. The goblin was enraged. He stomped around, trying to shout, attempting to speak. He knelt down naked and mouthed the words to the healing prayer he had recited so many times before, over and over. Still, no voice.
Kyfur fell to the ground in desperation, his head landing on his pile of neatly folded cloths, knocking over his satchel that was laid atop the garments. A toy robot in his bags sounded off,"Hault, I am Kyfah" Over and over. It was a toy robot his father had given him, who always told him 'ta improvise' and 'ya gotta use watcha gots, ta make it happen.'
A clever smirk came across Kyfurs' dismembered jaw. The priest had an Idea. 'I gots to find an enchanta!'
*****************************************************************
Knithawk gazed down the face of the cliff to see nothing.
"RAAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRRRRR!!!" The mage shouted while throwing his dagger down. He looked at his water elemental, "Ordos will not be pleased. We must travel back to the Timeless Isle to gather more souls for Lord Ordos." He had waited around long enough. The undead summoned his eyeball back without finding Ashenfurys current location.
Taking the form of a sandstone drake, Knithawk departed Ashenfurys' cave. The adrenaline from the battle began to wear off. The effects of the censor had drained him. The trip to the Isle itself had taken a toll on the forsaken. Upon his arrival at the Timeless Isle, he found himself tired and short of breath. Knithawk fell to the ground, leaving consciousness behind in a thicket of thorny bushes.
Soundly asleep, the mage felt a piercing pain in his rib cage. Assuming it was just another thorn in the briar patch, he shrugged it off and rolled over. After a second painful jab in the same place, the undead sprang to his feet, unsheathing his dagger while giving an intimidating yet dreary growl. Knithawks eyes were crusted over from lack of sleep. He tried to focus, however all he could make out was the glowing red aura which only an emissary of Ordos would have. This put him at ease. The forsaken put his dagger away then rubbed the dryness from his eyes. When he looked up, to his suprise, it was an old friend.
"Leyujin!" Knithawk exclaimed. "It's about time the Grim came around." The forsaken stepped out of the bushes, grabbing the Censor of Eternal Agony from his satchel. Knithawk knelt down and with his eyes closed began to chant to Ordos. Leyujin interrupted halfway through the undeads chant, with a poke from his battle axe to the mages' rib cage, knocking Knithawk over.
"Wat’choo be doin' mon?" the troll asked. "Da whole guild be lookin' fo yo hed!"
Knithawk took in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to tower over the troll, "WHILE THE REST OF THE GRIM WERE BRINGING DOWN OUR WARCHIEF, I HAVE BEEN HERE SERVING THE MANDATE, DWINDLING THE NUMBERS OF THE ALLIANCE! PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION LEYUJIN! AT ANY COST!" The fire that burned in the mages eyes melted the ice crystals that normally covered Knithawks face, making it seem like the undead was perspiring more than usual. The forsaken knelt down again and began to chant to the demi-god.
At this point, Leyujin knew there was not going to be any rational talking to the mage. Instead, he decided to observe the actions of his old companion. After the ritual was complete, Leyujin twitched the left side of his face, sending a hungry house fly on its way. "Joo redy ta serve da Mandate mage?"
The two exchanged a sinister grin before mounting their war-wolves. The pair rode across the most part of the entire isle, killing every blue badge they came across. They had stopped to refresh themselves with a fresh pandaren apple under a shaded pandaren apple tree when an extremely rare dragon flew over the two. Hulon was the dragons' name, and he was followed by two humans, a gnome as well as a blood elf. All of which wanted a piece of the dragons rare skin.
Knithawk froze Hulon in place. The mage smirked at Leyujin. "Bait!" The two watched as the group began to take the dragon down. Gasping his last breath, Hulon fell. "This is where I come in!" the forsaken said as he blinked toward the excitement.
The pinkskins didn't know what was coming. After a long hard fight with Hulon, they didn't have much stamina left to fight. They fell like a cluster of bees in the cold. Then the mage turned to the blood elf, whom was gathering dragon scales and paying no mind to Knithawk. Flustered, the mage asked the blood elf, "WHY DO YOU FIGHT ALONGSIDE THE ALLIANCE?!?!" Taken by surprise, the elf looked around to see if the mage might have been talking to someone else.
"You know damn well who I'm talking to now answer me, WHHHHYYYY!?!?" Knithawk asked infuriated. The elf never got the chance to answer as Knithawk plunged an icicle through her heart, killing her in her tracks.
The undead approached his frozen corpse then sucked the life blood from her body. He engulfed himself in his feast. Thinking how this particular blood-elf reminded him of a certain someone. Someone he had known well. Someone that had gave him grief. "Aureliya, mmmm..." the mage thought out loud. "I'm sure your flesh will only taste sweeter!"
Knithawk looked at Leyujin, wiping his mouth as he finished up his meal. The warrior was leaned up against the same tree they had taken rest under before Hulon flew over.
"Wut da hell brotha! Joo soul be weak!" Said Leyujin, spitting out an apple stem he had been chewing on.
Knithawk hung his head. "I become overwhelmed. Blinded by bloodlust you might say."
" Brotha, joo joined da Mandate ta slay Alliance, not da Horde, not our people, not our family. Tell me 'ow we kin cleanse joo. Joo not be troo, joo be fractured, an' it shows in dat joo slay yo' own."
"It was just another blood elf Leyujin. The horde is overrun with them. Almost like a plague." A wicked grin came across Knithawks face.
Leyujin asked, "An' wut happens when it be an Orc? O' a Tauren? O' a troll? O' anotha forsaken?"
There was a brief pause. the undead did not know how to answer.
"Ah'm gonna go, mon. Ah canna slay ba joo side. Ordos be WEAK. Da Horde be STRONG. We kin bring joo back inta da fold. Ah dunno wuz wrong wit’choo mon, but Ah'm gunna find a way ta cure ya. We will git joo cleansed, brotha."
With having that said, Leyujin mounted his drake and took off to seek counsel within the Grim.
"Wut'll I do if'n dey find out I robbed ol' Knitty?" The goblin thought to himself. " 'Ell,I DOUBLED his gold, mage was to tick'd ouf ta see wat I did for em." testicle then rolled over Kyfurs' lips and gums, as he jumped out of the stew. "I've had ENOUGH!!!" Is what he meant to say, but Kyfurs vocal chords where to badly decomposed to speak. what came out was a flemy blood splatter, accompanied by a gurgling sound from his neck. The goblin was enraged. He stomped around, trying to shout, attempting to speak. He knelt down naked and mouthed the words to the healing prayer he had recited so many times before, over and over. Still, no voice.
Kyfur fell to the ground in desperation, his head landing on his pile of neatly folded cloths, knocking over his satchel that was laid atop the garments. A toy robot in his bags sounded off,"Hault, I am Kyfah" Over and over. It was a toy robot his father had given him, who always told him 'ta improvise' and 'ya gotta use watcha gots, ta make it happen.'
A clever smirk came across Kyfurs' dismembered jaw. The priest had an Idea. 'I gots to find an enchanta!'
*****************************************************************
Knithawk gazed down the face of the cliff to see nothing.
"RAAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRRRRR!!!" The mage shouted while throwing his dagger down. He looked at his water elemental, "Ordos will not be pleased. We must travel back to the Timeless Isle to gather more souls for Lord Ordos." He had waited around long enough. The undead summoned his eyeball back without finding Ashenfurys current location.
Taking the form of a sandstone drake, Knithawk departed Ashenfurys' cave. The adrenaline from the battle began to wear off. The effects of the censor had drained him. The trip to the Isle itself had taken a toll on the forsaken. Upon his arrival at the Timeless Isle, he found himself tired and short of breath. Knithawk fell to the ground, leaving consciousness behind in a thicket of thorny bushes.
Soundly asleep, the mage felt a piercing pain in his rib cage. Assuming it was just another thorn in the briar patch, he shrugged it off and rolled over. After a second painful jab in the same place, the undead sprang to his feet, unsheathing his dagger while giving an intimidating yet dreary growl. Knithawks eyes were crusted over from lack of sleep. He tried to focus, however all he could make out was the glowing red aura which only an emissary of Ordos would have. This put him at ease. The forsaken put his dagger away then rubbed the dryness from his eyes. When he looked up, to his suprise, it was an old friend.
"Leyujin!" Knithawk exclaimed. "It's about time the Grim came around." The forsaken stepped out of the bushes, grabbing the Censor of Eternal Agony from his satchel. Knithawk knelt down and with his eyes closed began to chant to Ordos. Leyujin interrupted halfway through the undeads chant, with a poke from his battle axe to the mages' rib cage, knocking Knithawk over.
"Wat’choo be doin' mon?" the troll asked. "Da whole guild be lookin' fo yo hed!"
Knithawk took in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to tower over the troll, "WHILE THE REST OF THE GRIM WERE BRINGING DOWN OUR WARCHIEF, I HAVE BEEN HERE SERVING THE MANDATE, DWINDLING THE NUMBERS OF THE ALLIANCE! PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION LEYUJIN! AT ANY COST!" The fire that burned in the mages eyes melted the ice crystals that normally covered Knithawks face, making it seem like the undead was perspiring more than usual. The forsaken knelt down again and began to chant to the demi-god.
At this point, Leyujin knew there was not going to be any rational talking to the mage. Instead, he decided to observe the actions of his old companion. After the ritual was complete, Leyujin twitched the left side of his face, sending a hungry house fly on its way. "Joo redy ta serve da Mandate mage?"
The two exchanged a sinister grin before mounting their war-wolves. The pair rode across the most part of the entire isle, killing every blue badge they came across. They had stopped to refresh themselves with a fresh pandaren apple under a shaded pandaren apple tree when an extremely rare dragon flew over the two. Hulon was the dragons' name, and he was followed by two humans, a gnome as well as a blood elf. All of which wanted a piece of the dragons rare skin.
Knithawk froze Hulon in place. The mage smirked at Leyujin. "Bait!" The two watched as the group began to take the dragon down. Gasping his last breath, Hulon fell. "This is where I come in!" the forsaken said as he blinked toward the excitement.
The pinkskins didn't know what was coming. After a long hard fight with Hulon, they didn't have much stamina left to fight. They fell like a cluster of bees in the cold. Then the mage turned to the blood elf, whom was gathering dragon scales and paying no mind to Knithawk. Flustered, the mage asked the blood elf, "WHY DO YOU FIGHT ALONGSIDE THE ALLIANCE?!?!" Taken by surprise, the elf looked around to see if the mage might have been talking to someone else.
"You know damn well who I'm talking to now answer me, WHHHHYYYY!?!?" Knithawk asked infuriated. The elf never got the chance to answer as Knithawk plunged an icicle through her heart, killing her in her tracks.
The undead approached his frozen corpse then sucked the life blood from her body. He engulfed himself in his feast. Thinking how this particular blood-elf reminded him of a certain someone. Someone he had known well. Someone that had gave him grief. "Aureliya, mmmm..." the mage thought out loud. "I'm sure your flesh will only taste sweeter!"
Knithawk looked at Leyujin, wiping his mouth as he finished up his meal. The warrior was leaned up against the same tree they had taken rest under before Hulon flew over.
"Wut da hell brotha! Joo soul be weak!" Said Leyujin, spitting out an apple stem he had been chewing on.
Knithawk hung his head. "I become overwhelmed. Blinded by bloodlust you might say."
" Brotha, joo joined da Mandate ta slay Alliance, not da Horde, not our people, not our family. Tell me 'ow we kin cleanse joo. Joo not be troo, joo be fractured, an' it shows in dat joo slay yo' own."
"It was just another blood elf Leyujin. The horde is overrun with them. Almost like a plague." A wicked grin came across Knithawks face.
Leyujin asked, "An' wut happens when it be an Orc? O' a Tauren? O' a troll? O' anotha forsaken?"
There was a brief pause. the undead did not know how to answer.
"Ah'm gonna go, mon. Ah canna slay ba joo side. Ordos be WEAK. Da Horde be STRONG. We kin bring joo back inta da fold. Ah dunno wuz wrong wit’choo mon, but Ah'm gunna find a way ta cure ya. We will git joo cleansed, brotha."
With having that said, Leyujin mounted his drake and took off to seek counsel within the Grim.
PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION, AT ANY COST!
Re: Knithawks Demise
Leyu'jin hauled on the reins of his proto-drake and brought it to a halt right outside the Grim halls. He scowled as he slung himself off the saddle and dropped down to the ground, then strode into the guild's headquarters. At least he had found Knithawk, but killing yet another Horde showed how deep in shit the mage had gotten himself. The troll laughed to himself, but he wasn't in the least amused. He knew that Knithawk was not held in high esteem by the current officer corp; they hadn't spent more than a year bloodying the Alliance alongside the mage, so of course they would respond to Knithawk's... eccentrisms rather than his past record. Leyu was not fond of arguing when he was facing allies rather than enemies, but for the forsaken's sake he would have to be more eloquent than Papa Legba himself.
He paused along the guild's hallways and keyed into his hearthstone. He'd rather face all the Irredeemables at once, rather than engage them one by one. Furthermore, this matter was of the utmost importance; submitting a written report would be ridiculous, as time was of the essence. Who knew how much further the mage could fall into Ordos's corruptive embrace, or how many more Horde he might slay. Damballah alone knows what would happen if he encountered a Grim he didn't regard as a "comrade", like Leyujin himself. He sent out word of his arrival and the news he carried to Awatu, Fanyare, Aureliya and Anaie, and waited until those who were available responded to his call.
------------------------------------------------------------
In the small meeting room, Leyujin bowed before those Irredeemables who had answered his terse report over the hearth. Wasting no time, the troll warrior dropped to one knee and looked up at the assembled officers.
"Honahed Irredeemables, ah bring word o' da wayward mage, Knithawk. Ah've located 'im upon da Timeless Isles. As suspected, 'e has utilized da powahs o' Ordos ta hunt down da Alliance who quest upon da island, an' ah kin see dat da powah o' dat false god 'as blinded 'is judgement. Ah witnessed 'im slayin' a blood elf while undah Ordos's taint. Ah queried 'im aboot da goblin Kyfur, but wut e' tol' me sounded like ravings o' a mad mon... claims e' created Kyfur 'imself, an' dat da gobbo stole everyting e' owned."
Leyujin stood up and clenched one three-fingered hand into a fist, staring down each officer in turn. "Howevah, 'e 'as not turned aginst da Mandate, e' merely bin twisted ba da foul influence o' Ordos. Dat much be certain. While speakin' ta 'im befo' we bot' donned da curse o' da fire lord, e' explained 'is reasons fo' assumin' da mantle o' Ordos. E' sez dat da Grim hav forgotten der purpose. Dat while our war parties lay siege ta Orgrimmah an' hunt down da fel Warchief Garrosh, we hav neglected da troo essence o' da Mandate, an' fail ta bring Peace troo Annihilation ta da pinkskins an' der ilk." The warrior tightened his jaw and set his eyes on Fanyare. Speaking evenly, he said: "Joo yo'self know der be a grain o' truth ta dis, Fanyare. We barely hav enuff Grim ta mustah even one war partay ta fight da Alliance on da battlegrounds. While ah wish Knithawk would see dat e' could serve da Mandate ba fightin' alongside wit' us, ah will not fault 'is logic, o' 'is desire ta bring notice o' dis neglect ta our eyes."
The troll nodded once, and looked at all the assembled officers. "Ah know dat Knithawk kin be brought back from Ordos's grasp, an' ah will sey dis, losin' da mage will be a blow ta da Mandate. Few be as dedicated ta it as 'e be, e' 'as merely bin consumed ba rage an' lost purpose. When e' killed dat blood elf, ah demanded o' 'im why. Ah raged at 'im, sayin' dat e' 'ad betrayed da Mandate wit' dat action. But ah could see dat ma arguments reached 'im, an' e' kin realize da wrongness o' 'is actions. E' realizes 'is own sickness, but be incapable o' curin' it fo' 'imself. We mus', an' kin, do so, an' bring 'im back inta da fold." At that, Leyujin awaited the inevitable interrogation to come.
He paused along the guild's hallways and keyed into his hearthstone. He'd rather face all the Irredeemables at once, rather than engage them one by one. Furthermore, this matter was of the utmost importance; submitting a written report would be ridiculous, as time was of the essence. Who knew how much further the mage could fall into Ordos's corruptive embrace, or how many more Horde he might slay. Damballah alone knows what would happen if he encountered a Grim he didn't regard as a "comrade", like Leyujin himself. He sent out word of his arrival and the news he carried to Awatu, Fanyare, Aureliya and Anaie, and waited until those who were available responded to his call.
------------------------------------------------------------
In the small meeting room, Leyujin bowed before those Irredeemables who had answered his terse report over the hearth. Wasting no time, the troll warrior dropped to one knee and looked up at the assembled officers.
"Honahed Irredeemables, ah bring word o' da wayward mage, Knithawk. Ah've located 'im upon da Timeless Isles. As suspected, 'e has utilized da powahs o' Ordos ta hunt down da Alliance who quest upon da island, an' ah kin see dat da powah o' dat false god 'as blinded 'is judgement. Ah witnessed 'im slayin' a blood elf while undah Ordos's taint. Ah queried 'im aboot da goblin Kyfur, but wut e' tol' me sounded like ravings o' a mad mon... claims e' created Kyfur 'imself, an' dat da gobbo stole everyting e' owned."
Leyujin stood up and clenched one three-fingered hand into a fist, staring down each officer in turn. "Howevah, 'e 'as not turned aginst da Mandate, e' merely bin twisted ba da foul influence o' Ordos. Dat much be certain. While speakin' ta 'im befo' we bot' donned da curse o' da fire lord, e' explained 'is reasons fo' assumin' da mantle o' Ordos. E' sez dat da Grim hav forgotten der purpose. Dat while our war parties lay siege ta Orgrimmah an' hunt down da fel Warchief Garrosh, we hav neglected da troo essence o' da Mandate, an' fail ta bring Peace troo Annihilation ta da pinkskins an' der ilk." The warrior tightened his jaw and set his eyes on Fanyare. Speaking evenly, he said: "Joo yo'self know der be a grain o' truth ta dis, Fanyare. We barely hav enuff Grim ta mustah even one war partay ta fight da Alliance on da battlegrounds. While ah wish Knithawk would see dat e' could serve da Mandate ba fightin' alongside wit' us, ah will not fault 'is logic, o' 'is desire ta bring notice o' dis neglect ta our eyes."
The troll nodded once, and looked at all the assembled officers. "Ah know dat Knithawk kin be brought back from Ordos's grasp, an' ah will sey dis, losin' da mage will be a blow ta da Mandate. Few be as dedicated ta it as 'e be, e' 'as merely bin consumed ba rage an' lost purpose. When e' killed dat blood elf, ah demanded o' 'im why. Ah raged at 'im, sayin' dat e' 'ad betrayed da Mandate wit' dat action. But ah could see dat ma arguments reached 'im, an' e' kin realize da wrongness o' 'is actions. E' realizes 'is own sickness, but be incapable o' curin' it fo' 'imself. We mus', an' kin, do so, an' bring 'im back inta da fold." At that, Leyujin awaited the inevitable interrogation to come.
Re: Knithawks Demise
Aureliya had answered the summons from Leyu'jin as soon as it came. She entered the room, saluting the troll upon arrival and then settled in to wait for the rest to gather.
Once they had, Leyu'jin began speaking on Knithawk's behalf. But the more Aureliya listened, the angrier she became. Several times she opened her mouth to retort, but managed to silence herself and not interrupt Leyu'jin, allowing him to finish.
After he did, she rose, her eyes blazing with anger. "Leyu'jin, I respect your desire to defend what you consider a fellow guild mate, and friend. But you are wrong. Knithawk is NOT the person he used to be. Do not forget- I myself have fought alongside the mage on the battlegrounds. But he has failed the Mandate and he has failed The Grim! How dare he insinuate that we have forgotten our purpose! Where was Knithawk when we patrolled Durotar and the Barrens, driving out the Alliance soldiers who sought to attack Garrosh's troops? We do not accept help from the Alliance, under ANY circumstance! He flings false accusations at us without lifting a finger to help, based on incorrect assumptions. Where was Knithawk when we rode through the Timeless Isle, slaying any Alliance that crossed our path? Where was Knithawk on the nights when Fanyare struggled to gather enough people together to assault the battlefields? You are right that we hard pressed to form any war parties. Perhaps we WOULD be able to form those war parties if Knithawk wasn't busy killing our fellow horde, consorting with false gods, or killing our own brothers and hanging their heads in our own guild hall! He is a FAILURE to the Mandate and a disgrace to the tabard he has the nerve to wear! And if it were up to me, he would be slaughtered with as much dispassion as any human that would cross my path!"
Once they had, Leyu'jin began speaking on Knithawk's behalf. But the more Aureliya listened, the angrier she became. Several times she opened her mouth to retort, but managed to silence herself and not interrupt Leyu'jin, allowing him to finish.
After he did, she rose, her eyes blazing with anger. "Leyu'jin, I respect your desire to defend what you consider a fellow guild mate, and friend. But you are wrong. Knithawk is NOT the person he used to be. Do not forget- I myself have fought alongside the mage on the battlegrounds. But he has failed the Mandate and he has failed The Grim! How dare he insinuate that we have forgotten our purpose! Where was Knithawk when we patrolled Durotar and the Barrens, driving out the Alliance soldiers who sought to attack Garrosh's troops? We do not accept help from the Alliance, under ANY circumstance! He flings false accusations at us without lifting a finger to help, based on incorrect assumptions. Where was Knithawk when we rode through the Timeless Isle, slaying any Alliance that crossed our path? Where was Knithawk on the nights when Fanyare struggled to gather enough people together to assault the battlefields? You are right that we hard pressed to form any war parties. Perhaps we WOULD be able to form those war parties if Knithawk wasn't busy killing our fellow horde, consorting with false gods, or killing our own brothers and hanging their heads in our own guild hall! He is a FAILURE to the Mandate and a disgrace to the tabard he has the nerve to wear! And if it were up to me, he would be slaughtered with as much dispassion as any human that would cross my path!"
Re: Knithawks Demise
Fanyare glares at the troll
While we may struggle for the combatants against the Alliance, where was Knithawk to answer the call? His reality is his own perverted view which he looks to excuse his desire to serve a weak God.
looking over the gathered parties
His service is of no use to us as I see it. His mind is tainted by his decision to serve and spill Grim blood. This formality seems slightly excessive for such a easy decision. Hang the insane mage's head from a pike.
While we may struggle for the combatants against the Alliance, where was Knithawk to answer the call? His reality is his own perverted view which he looks to excuse his desire to serve a weak God.
looking over the gathered parties
His service is of no use to us as I see it. His mind is tainted by his decision to serve and spill Grim blood. This formality seems slightly excessive for such a easy decision. Hang the insane mage's head from a pike.
Re: Knithawks Demise
Eh, iffin what Leyujin be sayin' is remotely true den we should see 'bout cleansin' Knithawk o'dis corruption. We be seein' all kinds of' evil magicks dat make one lose control o' demselves in our battles. Ain't none of us dat ain't been hit by a foul priests mind control spells, making ya do tings. Knithawk be undah a gods influence, no mattah if it be a weak one. A god still be a god.
I meself was subjected to da control o'da scourge even aftah I was freed... not everyone gets da mental discipline I 'as to get it undah control ya know.
If we can't bring did mage 'round, well den, I gots dibs on 'is eyes. In fact, even if we kin bring did one back, I still want one. Would be interestin' seein' wat it's got in dere...
I meself was subjected to da control o'da scourge even aftah I was freed... not everyone gets da mental discipline I 'as to get it undah control ya know.
If we can't bring did mage 'round, well den, I gots dibs on 'is eyes. In fact, even if we kin bring did one back, I still want one. Would be interestin' seein' wat it's got in dere...
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.
Re: Knithawks Demise
Awatu only half-listened to what was being said. Certain words stuck out in the conversations, but for the most part it was muddled white noise just beyond his own thoughts. Leyu'jin's words, Aureliya's shouts, Fanyare's convictions, and Anaie's simple truths whirled around inside his head as he considered everything that he knew of the situation. Time moved on slowly for him and the silence dragged on as he finally rested one thought: "Punishment". The word was uttered softly, but he nodded at the power behind it. Awatu stood and turned to fully face the Irredeemables and Leyu'jin.
"He will be punished for his actions against the Mandate." Leyu'jin seemed about to protest, but Awatu held up a hand for him to stop. "He turned his back on The Grim through a misguided decision. He swore himself to Ordos and relished in the bloodlust against the Horde. He murdered a Minion of the Mandate. His actions brought weakness to The Grim and his madness distorts who we are in his eyes. There is no longer a Mandate to him. Only his 'mandate'."
"There was no mind-control at work here. He gave himself to Ordos and the fire-god kept him. If he now regrets this decision, then he has learned a valuable lesson. If not... then he will learn a lesson from me." Awatu snorted in irritation and re-fastened the straps of his armor around his chest. "One way or another, the hold of Ordos will fade from his mind and he will answer to all of us. He will not be killed..." he said, glancing at Aureliya "...as that would only make him a martyr, but he will be punished. The pain he will feel will not be dulled by any madness. He will feel all of it and know that he brings it upon himself. He will be an example."
Awatu walked past Leyu'jin towards the large doorframe leading to the entrance of the guild hall. "An' example of what?" Leyu'jin asked. Awatu turned to look back at the troll. "Of what -I- will do to any traitor to the Mandate." He looked past Leyu'jin to the Irredeemables. "Come. We hunt. If you wish to aid us in capturing him, Leyu'jin, then you can come as well. We will begin before down." With that, he turned and left the room.
"He will be punished for his actions against the Mandate." Leyu'jin seemed about to protest, but Awatu held up a hand for him to stop. "He turned his back on The Grim through a misguided decision. He swore himself to Ordos and relished in the bloodlust against the Horde. He murdered a Minion of the Mandate. His actions brought weakness to The Grim and his madness distorts who we are in his eyes. There is no longer a Mandate to him. Only his 'mandate'."
"There was no mind-control at work here. He gave himself to Ordos and the fire-god kept him. If he now regrets this decision, then he has learned a valuable lesson. If not... then he will learn a lesson from me." Awatu snorted in irritation and re-fastened the straps of his armor around his chest. "One way or another, the hold of Ordos will fade from his mind and he will answer to all of us. He will not be killed..." he said, glancing at Aureliya "...as that would only make him a martyr, but he will be punished. The pain he will feel will not be dulled by any madness. He will feel all of it and know that he brings it upon himself. He will be an example."
Awatu walked past Leyu'jin towards the large doorframe leading to the entrance of the guild hall. "An' example of what?" Leyu'jin asked. Awatu turned to look back at the troll. "Of what -I- will do to any traitor to the Mandate." He looked past Leyu'jin to the Irredeemables. "Come. We hunt. If you wish to aid us in capturing him, Leyu'jin, then you can come as well. We will begin before down." With that, he turned and left the room.