They flew high above Icecrown, Arrens upon his Nether Ray, a token symbol from bygone days of work done for the Skyguard, and Aely upon her drake. They looked down at the fields below, the lumbering undead shuffling mindlessly upon the snow and plague-covered fields. The University was in need of Lichbloom, the upper-level alchemy students working on their master's degrees in an attempt to create a potion that would either slow down or outright reverse the effects of the plague. Arrens laughed inwardly at the thought, certain that every school on Azeroth had students attempt the same effort every year, all with unsuccessful results. He shrugged the thought away as Aely pointed below them, a patch of Lichbloom growing in the snowy hills south of the Argent Tournament grounds.
They landed, the cold wind from riding high now softened as they tethered their mounts. "Wonderful eyes, my love. I'd not seen it from that far up. And we should be safe from the undead down below." They watched as the undead shambled around their necromantic masters. Both shuddering, they turned their backs and quietly began the task of pulling the Lichbloom from the ground, careful to keep the roots in tact as that was the piece of the plant most in need by the students.
They gathered a dozen specimens, their hands stinging from digging in the frozen ground, faces red from the howling wind. They had to shout at one another over the wind to be heard. Picking a particularly fine looking plant, Arrens tried to get Aely's attention. Her face looked intent as she drew sword and shield. Turning quickly to look, he saw no less than three dozen shadow cultists marching up the hill, skeletal minions in their wake. Forgetting the plant, he stood quickly and ran to her. He shouted over the howling wind, "Stay back, my love. Their shadow magic should be easily dealt with." Murmuring words in demonic, Shaaroon, Arrens' felguard, appeared beside him in a ready stance, the demon's large axe an imposing sight.
Without a word, the cultists attacked.
****
"But, Master Bittertongue, I did everything as you suggested! I gave her the ear rings--"
"How'd she like 'em, squire?"
"Oh Sshhee adores them. Sshhee said that they were a tad too dark--"
"Darker Cardinal rubies indicate better quality," Bricu said.
"But my Mary thinks that the lighter ones sshheow off her eyes better."
Bricu pulled the reins of his charger to a halt.
"She's serious."
"I'm afraid so." Whistler said soberly. "But the earrings are the least of my worries."
"Right, right." Bricu said. He focused on the icy road ahead, ignoring Whistlers continuous prattle. "Tell me what's on yer mind then."
"Well, per Sir Balthasar's advice, I have, um..."
"Aye." Bricu said.
"Well I have prayed at the temple frequently."
Bricu bit his lower lip and nodded again.
"And while sshhee said sshhee enjoyed it, I'm not sure I am doing this right."
"Not sure yer doin' what right?"
"Praying, Mater Bittertongue."
"Just get on yer knees an' say what yeh need t'say."
"That's not exactly what I mean, master Bittertongue."
"Oi, yeh gave her presents, right?"
"Yes sir."
"Yeh said yeh loved her, right?"
"In a proper chivalrous fashion, yes."
"Have yeh tried a wee less than proper."
"I did say I was following Sir Balthasar's advice."
Bricu looked over his shoulder and met Whistler's gaze. "Uther's balls squire."
"Master Bittertongue!"
Bricu ignored Whistler's outrage, "One thing. If yeh worry too much, yer prayers end too quick. Got it?"
Whistler nodded slowly.
"If yeh have ta, think o'yer favorite prayers. Alright?"
"But Master Bittertongue..."
"Oi, I'm a father an' a Holy Man. An' I'm the one that keeps yer missus in affordable, yet beautiful, jewelery. I do know a wee bit 'bout this. Yeh have my blessing."
"I see...but what..."
"Earthroot tea. Just have yer Mary drink Earthroot tea until yeh're ready for 'em."
"But that wasn't..."
"Aye, Earthroot tea. Bitter, but, yeh won't have t'drink it." Bricu said, interrupting "Oi, what's that?" Bricu pointed off towards the horizon.
Whistler brought up a had to shield his eyes from the glare off the snow. "Fighting."
Bricu started to grind his teeth. "Squire, can yeh see the bloody tabards?"
"One is black and red. The other..."
Bricu spurred his charger on, yelling for Whistler to follow.
****
Arrens cast bolts of shadow where he could, their damaging properties halting Arthas' minions where they stood in many circumstances. His whispered words of demonic went unheard over the howling wind, yet the curses he placed upon the cultists did not need to be heard. The shadow magic festered deep within them slowing them at first before forcing them to crumple over in a heap from the pain inflicted.
He felt Aely's spells cast upon him, the warming Light healing the spells the cultists cast in return. Despite the healing done to him, he could feel his strength waning. The spells cast consumed an enormous amount of energy and, gods, there were still so many left. Pangs of despair crept into his mind, not for himself, but for the woman he loved, standing behind him. Whatever happened, he had to ensure she was able to make it safely away.
As Arrens steeled himself for another wave of attacks, he saw two riders in the distance and immediately recognized the tabard of the black and red, Bricu Bittertongue's short cropped red hair a familiar sight. Working his way from the rear, he hacked and slashed at undead minions making his way to Arrens and Aely.
Arrens whistled sharply to grab Bricu's attention. "We must pull back. We're outnumbered. Go to Aely. Pull her to safety by any means. Go!"
"Yeh sure yeh know what yer doin' Professor?" Bricu shouted back
"I'll hold them back and escape as I can. Just get her out of here, now!" Bricu kicked his charger and raced towards Aely as Arrens placed himself between the encroaching forces. He could feel her Light upon him now, hear her softly chanting the prayers of her order to protect him. Shaaroon continued to hack and slash his way from the rear, the felguard's axe slaying the undead one by one. The creatures, perhaps understanding the attack from behind or perhaps under orders from the cultists attacked Shaaroon as one, the demon's essence disappearing into the Nether. Arrens felt himself weaken. He spared one final look behind him, the red haired beauty behind him glistening with sweat. Quietly, he whispered, "Forgive me, my love." Speaking a word in demonic, he saw as Aely's glow became a little darker, their souls now linked by more than love.
Turning to face the foes before him, he shifted, large, shadowy wings spreading from his back. A rune, his rune, appeared upon his forehead. Words not of his world uttered gutturally from his throat as an aura of fire surrounded his body, catching the undead in a hideous display of burning magic. Several of the cultists had escaped in the calamity, the wretched smell of burning flesh the only remnants of the fight that had remained.
Arrens turned around to look. Aely was on the back of Bricu's mount, her skin still a mixture of Light and Shadow. Still in his demonic form, he relaxed for a moment, waiting for the opportunity to shift back. Suddenly, his back stiffened and then bent backwards at an unnatural angle. A silent scream emanated from his throat, the rune on his forehead flashing briefly before flickering to near nothingness.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
*****
Whatever Arrens had done wasn't immediately noticeable to Aely - his presence there, albeit in shadow form, was enough to overwhelm the subtle magic between them. His sudden disappearance, however, made the connection painfully obvious; she gasped for breath, as though she'd fallen hard and had the wind knocked out of her chest. Still, she fought against him, trying to get down off of the moving horse.
Bricu felt her struggling to free herself. "I'm sorry lass," he said and secured his armhold around her waist.
"No! No he... Arrens... Bricu, please..." She clawed at his armor, still trying to catch her breath.
Bricu kept riding.
As soon as they got back to the forward camp, she took off again back the way they had come, ignoring his shouts of protest behind her. The battlefield was littered with bits of charred bone and gore. And /just/ bits of bone and gore. Arrens was nowhere to be found, and there was no trace of him there - not even footprints.
A sudden surge of energy and faint shadows crept through her vision. She heard her name, as if from deep within her chest - and a scream - and then it was gone, and there was only falling snow and the smell of burned flesh. She shook her head, looking again at the destruction around her.
Something akin to desperation took hold, and she took off riding again, breakneck - headed for the only place she could imagine going.
Hillsbrad.
Dark Summonings
Moderator: Guild Officer
Re: Dark Summonings
It was dark when Arrens woke up, the moonlight not making its way past the clouded sky nor through the windows of Aely’s lavish apartment. Quietly rising so as not to disturb her naked, sleeping form, he went to the kitchen and lit a candle for light. Roger stirred, the enormous felhound’s eyes peering as slits before grunting once and rolling back over to go to sleep. Arrens’ dreams had been restless, a darkened world with green flames, hellish lightning and perpetual nightfall with wings of black leather in constant flight.
He poured himself a glass of wine in a large crystal goblet Aely kept in her cabinets. He needed something to take the edge off, something that would help him sleep. His morning classes required him being fully awake. He was expecting an official to sit through his classes to ensure his methods of teaching and the lessons given were appropriate for his students. Were they not, Arrens knew the repercussions he would face. The lashings he took from the last time were still not fully healed.
Aely appeared in the doorway, a sheet clutched loosely to her chest. “The fuck are you doing up? Get your ass to bed!” she yelled.
“I will, my dear. I just -”
She mocked him. “‘I just, I just, I just.’ You just nothing, you blithering idiot! I expected you to be there when I woke up and you weren’t.” Her terse words softened slightly, her voice becoming soft and light. “Now come to bed. I’ll make it worth your while.” She dropped the sheet and turned, her smooth, muscled skin slinking off into the darkness.
Setting the goblet down and blowing out the candle, he followed.
****
Arrens awoke the next morning donning his best robes, the once-fine linen now frayed along the hem, the colorful patterns faded from lack of care. Leaving the apartment, he turned to Aely who was still naked and sitting at the kitchen table and reading a letter. “I…,” he paused, unable to exclaim his love.
She set down her mug and approached him, her lithe, muscular body slithering as she moved. She smacked him, hard, on the backside. “Go, before you come back to me all fucked up. Go!” she yelled. Leaving, he untied his horse from its post and made his way to the University.
Upon entering his classroom, he noticed the official was not yet present. This did not surprise Arrens, for they came and went as they saw fit with little regard to interrupting his classes or his student’s studies. He was, however, unable to reprimand them for such disturbances without repercussions.
Standing at the podium, he began his class. “Today, we shall talk about our benevolent ruler, the almighty Sargeras. It is He that forged the world as we know it. It is He that breathed life into our souls and made us what we are. Without Him, we would be nothing but mindless automatons whose existence would be futile and meaningless.”
The classroom door opened just then and, as one, the whole of Arrens’ students stood and bowed reverently. Arrens did the same. “Master Kro’thar,” he said in greeting. “We have just begun our lessons. Please, do make yourself comfortable.”
The eredar grunted, his enormous frame moving to the back of the classroom. Leaning against the counter where Arrens kept his spell components, he folded his arms, his red skin and yellow, glowing eyes glaring at the professor. “Continue,” he said, his voice deep, booming and guttural.
Nodding slightly, Arrens picked up where he let off. “Almighty Sargeras will remain benevolent so long as we continue to be His humble servants. He requires weekly sacrifices of the weak-minded upon His altar. Without these sacrifices, our lives are all in peril.”
“Your lives are meaningless whether you sacrifice or not, worm,” boomed Kro’thar from the back. Walking to the front of the class, his long, muscular tail knocking students from their seats, he continued while turning to face the class. “What the professor fails to tell you is that it is Sargeras who will rule all before His time is done. It is you, His servants, that must make this happen for Him to remain as kind as He has been.” Turning to Arrens, he said, “Isn’t that right, Professor?”
“Erm…yes. Yes, of course. I was just getting to that…”
Kro’thar grabbed Arrens around his upper arm, the demon’s large, clawed hands digging painfully. Slowly, Arrens could feel the searing pain of fire burning his flesh as he screamed and sagged towards the floor. “Yes, I’m certain you were, Professor,” Kro’thar spat. “Next time, you’ll be well-advised to put out that important information first, won’t you?” He let go of Arrens, the professor dropping to the floor and clutching his arm. The Eredar’s handprint was seared into his flesh, his body wracked with pain. Chuckling quietly, Kro’thar left the classroom, the students following suit leaving their admonished professor to take care of himself.
****
Arrens’s work day done, he opted to walk home. Leading his white steed by the bridle, he passed through the Trade District, the once-busy streets mostly empty save for a handful of copperless beggars squatting in shops boarded closed. The auction house was a relic of bygone times these days, its usefulness gone when it burned in a fire some months before. As the professor tried his best to recall that fire, he found his memories unable to piece together exactly what had happened. He paused in the middle of what used to be the busy thoroughfare and stared at it. What happened here? he thought to himself. Why can’t I remember…
He was shoved hard from behind. “Move along, mage!” shouted the Felguard, his large axe hovering menacingly close.
“I…yes, sir. My sincerest apologies,” Arrens replied, the shove once more reminding him of his wound. The seared flesh pulsed with pain as he tugged gently on the bridle leading the horse to Old Town.
Crossing the bridge over the canals, he saw the towering spires, their strange, jagged shapes marring the already clouded sky.
That’s not right…
Entering Old Town and turning right, he followed the cobblestoned path, images of Sargeras, Archimonde and Kil’jaedan etched into each stone down the center, fiery wreaths surrounding the demonic portraits. The portraits of lesser demons seemed to be watching the professor from the stones along the side of the path as he walked.
He approached Aely’s apartment tying his horse up to the post outside. He walked down the steps, their twisting, winding path another thing he couldn’t recall. Something was definitely wrong with this, something inherently not right. The harder he tried to recall a path that was as familiar to him as teaching a class, the more it seemed the memory slipped further from his grasp. After what seemed hours, he reached her door and opened it.
He did not expect her home. Seldom was the time when her work allowed her to be home before him, yet he could hear her beyond their shared bedroom. He opened it slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkened room.
From somewhere in the darkness she laughed, low and dramatic, and he wondered what exactly had her in such a mood – though her moods had been violent and transient that day anyway. His eyes adjusted and he recognized her sitting naked on their bed, her back to him, smooth, almost translucent skin picking up what little light was there, the curve of her spine making tiny, almost elegant shadows.
A hand, long-fingered and thin, snaked around to rest in the small of her back as her laugh was mirrored – mirrored by that of another man, his voice conspiratorial and thick with desire.
Another man.
“A…Aely?” Arrens whispered quietly.
She half-turned looking over her shoulder, long red tresses around her shoulders. Pinned beneath her naked form sat up Tarquin ap Danwyrith. “Hello, Professor.” He grinned, white teeth flashing in the darkened room. “Was in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d drop by.” His strangler’s hands came up, tilting Aelflaed’s head back. “You can have her back when I’m done. If you still want her.”
Arrens felt the wind rush out of him, crushed, as if he’d been punched in the gut by a demon. The world seemed to swim in front of his eyes. He doubled over and slumped to the floor, depths of despair slowly turning into unbridled rage. After enough seconds to feel like years, he rose again, words of arcane magic coming to his lips. A ball of flame formed in his hands. Thrusting them forward, the flame shot towards the bed consuming it in unnaturally hot fire – and yet, from the inferno, the murderer was still laughing. The only scream heard was his own as he sat down weakly in the now-burning apartment and awaited his own end
He poured himself a glass of wine in a large crystal goblet Aely kept in her cabinets. He needed something to take the edge off, something that would help him sleep. His morning classes required him being fully awake. He was expecting an official to sit through his classes to ensure his methods of teaching and the lessons given were appropriate for his students. Were they not, Arrens knew the repercussions he would face. The lashings he took from the last time were still not fully healed.
Aely appeared in the doorway, a sheet clutched loosely to her chest. “The fuck are you doing up? Get your ass to bed!” she yelled.
“I will, my dear. I just -”
She mocked him. “‘I just, I just, I just.’ You just nothing, you blithering idiot! I expected you to be there when I woke up and you weren’t.” Her terse words softened slightly, her voice becoming soft and light. “Now come to bed. I’ll make it worth your while.” She dropped the sheet and turned, her smooth, muscled skin slinking off into the darkness.
Setting the goblet down and blowing out the candle, he followed.
****
Arrens awoke the next morning donning his best robes, the once-fine linen now frayed along the hem, the colorful patterns faded from lack of care. Leaving the apartment, he turned to Aely who was still naked and sitting at the kitchen table and reading a letter. “I…,” he paused, unable to exclaim his love.
She set down her mug and approached him, her lithe, muscular body slithering as she moved. She smacked him, hard, on the backside. “Go, before you come back to me all fucked up. Go!” she yelled. Leaving, he untied his horse from its post and made his way to the University.
Upon entering his classroom, he noticed the official was not yet present. This did not surprise Arrens, for they came and went as they saw fit with little regard to interrupting his classes or his student’s studies. He was, however, unable to reprimand them for such disturbances without repercussions.
Standing at the podium, he began his class. “Today, we shall talk about our benevolent ruler, the almighty Sargeras. It is He that forged the world as we know it. It is He that breathed life into our souls and made us what we are. Without Him, we would be nothing but mindless automatons whose existence would be futile and meaningless.”
The classroom door opened just then and, as one, the whole of Arrens’ students stood and bowed reverently. Arrens did the same. “Master Kro’thar,” he said in greeting. “We have just begun our lessons. Please, do make yourself comfortable.”
The eredar grunted, his enormous frame moving to the back of the classroom. Leaning against the counter where Arrens kept his spell components, he folded his arms, his red skin and yellow, glowing eyes glaring at the professor. “Continue,” he said, his voice deep, booming and guttural.
Nodding slightly, Arrens picked up where he let off. “Almighty Sargeras will remain benevolent so long as we continue to be His humble servants. He requires weekly sacrifices of the weak-minded upon His altar. Without these sacrifices, our lives are all in peril.”
“Your lives are meaningless whether you sacrifice or not, worm,” boomed Kro’thar from the back. Walking to the front of the class, his long, muscular tail knocking students from their seats, he continued while turning to face the class. “What the professor fails to tell you is that it is Sargeras who will rule all before His time is done. It is you, His servants, that must make this happen for Him to remain as kind as He has been.” Turning to Arrens, he said, “Isn’t that right, Professor?”
“Erm…yes. Yes, of course. I was just getting to that…”
Kro’thar grabbed Arrens around his upper arm, the demon’s large, clawed hands digging painfully. Slowly, Arrens could feel the searing pain of fire burning his flesh as he screamed and sagged towards the floor. “Yes, I’m certain you were, Professor,” Kro’thar spat. “Next time, you’ll be well-advised to put out that important information first, won’t you?” He let go of Arrens, the professor dropping to the floor and clutching his arm. The Eredar’s handprint was seared into his flesh, his body wracked with pain. Chuckling quietly, Kro’thar left the classroom, the students following suit leaving their admonished professor to take care of himself.
****
Arrens’s work day done, he opted to walk home. Leading his white steed by the bridle, he passed through the Trade District, the once-busy streets mostly empty save for a handful of copperless beggars squatting in shops boarded closed. The auction house was a relic of bygone times these days, its usefulness gone when it burned in a fire some months before. As the professor tried his best to recall that fire, he found his memories unable to piece together exactly what had happened. He paused in the middle of what used to be the busy thoroughfare and stared at it. What happened here? he thought to himself. Why can’t I remember…
He was shoved hard from behind. “Move along, mage!” shouted the Felguard, his large axe hovering menacingly close.
“I…yes, sir. My sincerest apologies,” Arrens replied, the shove once more reminding him of his wound. The seared flesh pulsed with pain as he tugged gently on the bridle leading the horse to Old Town.
Crossing the bridge over the canals, he saw the towering spires, their strange, jagged shapes marring the already clouded sky.
That’s not right…
Entering Old Town and turning right, he followed the cobblestoned path, images of Sargeras, Archimonde and Kil’jaedan etched into each stone down the center, fiery wreaths surrounding the demonic portraits. The portraits of lesser demons seemed to be watching the professor from the stones along the side of the path as he walked.
He approached Aely’s apartment tying his horse up to the post outside. He walked down the steps, their twisting, winding path another thing he couldn’t recall. Something was definitely wrong with this, something inherently not right. The harder he tried to recall a path that was as familiar to him as teaching a class, the more it seemed the memory slipped further from his grasp. After what seemed hours, he reached her door and opened it.
He did not expect her home. Seldom was the time when her work allowed her to be home before him, yet he could hear her beyond their shared bedroom. He opened it slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkened room.
From somewhere in the darkness she laughed, low and dramatic, and he wondered what exactly had her in such a mood – though her moods had been violent and transient that day anyway. His eyes adjusted and he recognized her sitting naked on their bed, her back to him, smooth, almost translucent skin picking up what little light was there, the curve of her spine making tiny, almost elegant shadows.
A hand, long-fingered and thin, snaked around to rest in the small of her back as her laugh was mirrored – mirrored by that of another man, his voice conspiratorial and thick with desire.
Another man.
“A…Aely?” Arrens whispered quietly.
She half-turned looking over her shoulder, long red tresses around her shoulders. Pinned beneath her naked form sat up Tarquin ap Danwyrith. “Hello, Professor.” He grinned, white teeth flashing in the darkened room. “Was in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d drop by.” His strangler’s hands came up, tilting Aelflaed’s head back. “You can have her back when I’m done. If you still want her.”
Arrens felt the wind rush out of him, crushed, as if he’d been punched in the gut by a demon. The world seemed to swim in front of his eyes. He doubled over and slumped to the floor, depths of despair slowly turning into unbridled rage. After enough seconds to feel like years, he rose again, words of arcane magic coming to his lips. A ball of flame formed in his hands. Thrusting them forward, the flame shot towards the bed consuming it in unnaturally hot fire – and yet, from the inferno, the murderer was still laughing. The only scream heard was his own as he sat down weakly in the now-burning apartment and awaited his own end
Re: Dark Summonings
So this is death. I'm dead. Aely's dead. Even that bastard Tarquin is dead. All by my hand. I feel...nothing.
The warlock tried to take stock of what was around him. He saw nothing but blackness. He couldn't be sure whether his eyes were open or closed. Attempting to feel something beyond the numbness that permeated him to his core was met with disappointment.
Somewhere, near or far he could not tell, he heard voices. Their words made little sense to him, but he was certain they were voices. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry and his tongue felt swollen. He tried to move, his arms and legs not responding to his will. Even the simple task of opening his eyes was met with a blinding darkness followed by brief interludes of streaking light.
"You have killed him," a voice said behind him in a language recognized immediately as demonic.
Another voice, just to his right, responded harshly in a tongue he did not understand. "Gulamir! Ur gul zekul ze parn mordanas!"
The two continued speaking, their words meaningless to the professor as he attempted to regain control of his faculties. Keeping his eyes shut, he tried to move a finger or a toe to no avail.
Deep breaths, he told himself. Focus. Mentally blocking out the sounds of the others around him, he tried once more. At last, he was able to move his pinky finger. With one small movement, the numbness that had permeated his entire body began to fade. He felt the cold slab of stone he was lying on. He felt tethers around his wrists, arms, legs and neck. He smelled the fetid breath of those standing near him. His mind was assaulted with the truth.
He was surrounded by demons.
Arrens involuntarily tensed. The talking ceased.
"So. The great Arrens Caltrains awakes at last," the voice to his right said in demonic. "You've had a very busy few days, haven't you?" he asked, the malice in his voice as plain as day.
"Who...who are you?" Arrens coughed. He forced his eyes open in an attempt to make sense of the shapes formed in his field of vision. The demon in front of him was large, that much he could tell. There were a host of others around him as well, some big, some small, but none compared to the size of the demon to his right.
It laughed, low and dangerous, mocking him. "Do you not know us, who call yourself a master Demonologist, a summoner?" The demon spat.
Arrens' vision cleared as his senses came fully under his control once more. "Kro'thar," he said, recognizing the Eredar at last. He looked around as much as he could. A dozen demons of various types surrounded him. He also saw the charred remains of a succubus sitting atop a felguard. Are they conjoined? What the fel is going on here?
Kro'thar laughed sardonically. "Very good," the demon said in Common. "I trust you find yourself comfortable?"
Arrens looked down at what was holding him in place. Shadowy tendrils wrapped tightly around his body making something as simple as turning his neck an agonizing chore. The slab of stone he was tied to looked like a distorted altar. "Where am I?" he demanded.
"Tsk tsk, professor. I would think one of such power as you claim to have would recognize your new home instantly. Welcome to what you humans refer to as the Twisting Nether," Kro'thar boomed.
Arrens felt panic course through his body. "H...how?" he asked.
Kro'thar looked down upon the prone form of the professor and grinned maliciously. "Filthy humans. Subjugating demons to do your bidding and believing yourselves to be superior. That thinking comes to an end. You are merely graced with being the first to join our ranks due to your special ability. Stepping over a portal to the Nether provided you with a unique gift, didn't it, Professor?" he spat. "Do you believe we are unable to summon demons back to the Nether?"
Arrens looked aghast. "I am /not/ a demon!" he yelled, his composure rapidly fading as he pieced together what the demon was saying.
"Not yet, no. But you have enough demonic essence within you that we can summon you at will. You are not under someone else's control...yet. But you will be, human. Oh yes. You will be soon enough." The Eredar walked around to Arrens' left and touched the warlock's arm. He screamed in pain. "You know the pain we can inflict. You know what hell we can put you through with but a thought. In time, you will also know what it means to serve Sargeras, to serve...me."
Arrens looked down at his arm and saw raw, burned flesh, the handprint of the demon a vicious scar. Not a dream, he thought. That wasn't a dream. Oh gods, Aely. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry...my love.
The warlock tried to take stock of what was around him. He saw nothing but blackness. He couldn't be sure whether his eyes were open or closed. Attempting to feel something beyond the numbness that permeated him to his core was met with disappointment.
Somewhere, near or far he could not tell, he heard voices. Their words made little sense to him, but he was certain they were voices. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry and his tongue felt swollen. He tried to move, his arms and legs not responding to his will. Even the simple task of opening his eyes was met with a blinding darkness followed by brief interludes of streaking light.
"You have killed him," a voice said behind him in a language recognized immediately as demonic.
Another voice, just to his right, responded harshly in a tongue he did not understand. "Gulamir! Ur gul zekul ze parn mordanas!"
The two continued speaking, their words meaningless to the professor as he attempted to regain control of his faculties. Keeping his eyes shut, he tried to move a finger or a toe to no avail.
Deep breaths, he told himself. Focus. Mentally blocking out the sounds of the others around him, he tried once more. At last, he was able to move his pinky finger. With one small movement, the numbness that had permeated his entire body began to fade. He felt the cold slab of stone he was lying on. He felt tethers around his wrists, arms, legs and neck. He smelled the fetid breath of those standing near him. His mind was assaulted with the truth.
He was surrounded by demons.
Arrens involuntarily tensed. The talking ceased.
"So. The great Arrens Caltrains awakes at last," the voice to his right said in demonic. "You've had a very busy few days, haven't you?" he asked, the malice in his voice as plain as day.
"Who...who are you?" Arrens coughed. He forced his eyes open in an attempt to make sense of the shapes formed in his field of vision. The demon in front of him was large, that much he could tell. There were a host of others around him as well, some big, some small, but none compared to the size of the demon to his right.
It laughed, low and dangerous, mocking him. "Do you not know us, who call yourself a master Demonologist, a summoner?" The demon spat.
Arrens' vision cleared as his senses came fully under his control once more. "Kro'thar," he said, recognizing the Eredar at last. He looked around as much as he could. A dozen demons of various types surrounded him. He also saw the charred remains of a succubus sitting atop a felguard. Are they conjoined? What the fel is going on here?
Kro'thar laughed sardonically. "Very good," the demon said in Common. "I trust you find yourself comfortable?"
Arrens looked down at what was holding him in place. Shadowy tendrils wrapped tightly around his body making something as simple as turning his neck an agonizing chore. The slab of stone he was tied to looked like a distorted altar. "Where am I?" he demanded.
"Tsk tsk, professor. I would think one of such power as you claim to have would recognize your new home instantly. Welcome to what you humans refer to as the Twisting Nether," Kro'thar boomed.
Arrens felt panic course through his body. "H...how?" he asked.
Kro'thar looked down upon the prone form of the professor and grinned maliciously. "Filthy humans. Subjugating demons to do your bidding and believing yourselves to be superior. That thinking comes to an end. You are merely graced with being the first to join our ranks due to your special ability. Stepping over a portal to the Nether provided you with a unique gift, didn't it, Professor?" he spat. "Do you believe we are unable to summon demons back to the Nether?"
Arrens looked aghast. "I am /not/ a demon!" he yelled, his composure rapidly fading as he pieced together what the demon was saying.
"Not yet, no. But you have enough demonic essence within you that we can summon you at will. You are not under someone else's control...yet. But you will be, human. Oh yes. You will be soon enough." The Eredar walked around to Arrens' left and touched the warlock's arm. He screamed in pain. "You know the pain we can inflict. You know what hell we can put you through with but a thought. In time, you will also know what it means to serve Sargeras, to serve...me."
Arrens looked down at his arm and saw raw, burned flesh, the handprint of the demon a vicious scar. Not a dream, he thought. That wasn't a dream. Oh gods, Aely. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry...my love.
[5.OOC] Beltar: Hammer of What The Fuck Were You Thinking
Re: Dark Summonings
Aelflaed jumped off her charger, the sharp winter wind tearing at her cloak, blowing snow into and under her armor.
“JOLSTRAER.”
She screamed his name into the gale, running across the frozen fields.
“JOLSTRAER TABORWYNN, CAN YE HEAR?!”
“Th’ hell are ye, Jol? I’m here. I’m back. Ye told me t’ bring ‘im, an’ I’m tryin’, an’ damn ye f’r all that ye laid on me about it. F’r makin’ me do it alone, an’ wha’ I couldna tell ye.”
There was no response, only an angry fire that started deep in her belly and felt like it would swallow her whole that subsided quickly into utter desperation. Sobs overtook her as she half-collapsed, sinking down into the snowy, sooty remains of his house.
“Damn ye, Jol Taborwynn. F’r all ay this. F’r leavin’. I cannae e’en let ye meet ‘im. Ligh’ but ye’d have made fun – a professor. Ye hear that? A teacher, Jols, nae a soldier. An’ I love ‘im. I love ‘im like ye said, an’ I’m no’ lettin’ go. Ligh’, Jol… please…”
The wind ripped at her face, turning tears into tiny icicles on her cheeks; it howled but had no words. She dug her fingers into the snow, ignoring the cold, until she found what was left of his charred hearth.
“He’s gone, Jol. Taken – like ye. Ligh’, an’ he’s gone.”
From deep within her chest she heard her name again – clearer this time, though soft. Her mind flashed to Dragonblight, to Jol diving out of the sky, his voice on the wind, searching for her. But this wasn’t Jol’s voice.
This voice was unmistakably Arrens.
“Arrens?” Aely looked around frantically before having a flash of realization. “Sweet Ligh’… Arrens! Love? Do ye hear me?” Her skin prickled and pain flashed through her mind briefly, before subsiding back to a dull ache.
And then his voice again, weak and hurting. “Aely.”
Aely blinked. “Ye… live?”
“JOLSTRAER.”
She screamed his name into the gale, running across the frozen fields.
“JOLSTRAER TABORWYNN, CAN YE HEAR?!”
“Th’ hell are ye, Jol? I’m here. I’m back. Ye told me t’ bring ‘im, an’ I’m tryin’, an’ damn ye f’r all that ye laid on me about it. F’r makin’ me do it alone, an’ wha’ I couldna tell ye.”
There was no response, only an angry fire that started deep in her belly and felt like it would swallow her whole that subsided quickly into utter desperation. Sobs overtook her as she half-collapsed, sinking down into the snowy, sooty remains of his house.
“Damn ye, Jol Taborwynn. F’r all ay this. F’r leavin’. I cannae e’en let ye meet ‘im. Ligh’ but ye’d have made fun – a professor. Ye hear that? A teacher, Jols, nae a soldier. An’ I love ‘im. I love ‘im like ye said, an’ I’m no’ lettin’ go. Ligh’, Jol… please…”
The wind ripped at her face, turning tears into tiny icicles on her cheeks; it howled but had no words. She dug her fingers into the snow, ignoring the cold, until she found what was left of his charred hearth.
“He’s gone, Jol. Taken – like ye. Ligh’, an’ he’s gone.”
From deep within her chest she heard her name again – clearer this time, though soft. Her mind flashed to Dragonblight, to Jol diving out of the sky, his voice on the wind, searching for her. But this wasn’t Jol’s voice.
This voice was unmistakably Arrens.
“Arrens?” Aely looked around frantically before having a flash of realization. “Sweet Ligh’… Arrens! Love? Do ye hear me?” Her skin prickled and pain flashed through her mind briefly, before subsiding back to a dull ache.
And then his voice again, weak and hurting. “Aely.”
Aely blinked. “Ye… live?”
[5.OOC] Beltar: Hammer of What The Fuck Were You Thinking
Re: Dark Summonings
The Eredar looked down upon the warlock and smiled his fanged, malicious grin. "Release him." A succubus approached Arrens and drew a clawed finger across his cheek before whispering a spell that removed the shadowy tendrils that held him in place. "Now then, warlock, your training can begin. You'll find a ward has been placed upon you to prevent you from changing into your demon form. In time, that ward will be removed. For now, however, you will feel pain you have never before felt. You will understand the torment each and every demon you have subjugated has felt. And when you feel you can take no more, you will beg to serve me so that the pain will end and you will feel nothing but pure, raw power." Kro'thar's laugh was booming.
Arrens sat up on the stone altar and rubbed his neck where the tendrils had held him the tightest. "I would sooner die than serve you or your kind, demon."
Kro'thar looked at him with amusement. "You may very well get your wish." Looking to a Doomguard standing nearby, the Eredar spoke in the same unfamiliar language Arrens could not understand.
The large, winged demon approached Arrens and swung a large fist at the professor's jaw. The unexpected blow sent the warlock reeling. Pulling himself up, Arrens wiped a hand across his face, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. The demon approached again. Arrens attempted to morph into demon form to protect himself, but found himself unable to change. Whatever ward the Eredar had placed upon him was too strong. He had to escape, to put some distance between himself and the demons surrounding him.
Enslave the fel-damned thing, Caltrains!
With a thought, the Doomguard paused. Recognizing exactly what had happened, Arrens mentally told the demon to continue approaching him. That took...nothing. So easy... he thought.
The Doomguard lumbered towards Arrens and gripped him around the throat. The grip, while uncomfortable for Arrens, was not meant to harm him. He heard Kro'thar laugh some feet away clearly enjoying the show.
Fly.
Lifting Arrens in his arms, the Doomguard leapt high into the air, his large wings spreading their full length. From below, the Eredar bellowed, "If you kill him, your pain will be neverending, worm!"
Ignoring the Eredar, the Doomguard continued to slowly elevate, his actions firmly under Arrens' control. "Make haste away from here," Arrens said quietly. The Doomguard began flying quickly away, the barren landscape before them offering little hope but distance between Kro'thar and his band of demonic cohorts. Arrens heard a roar the likes of which he had never heard before from below. Kro'thar had recognized what happened, sending an enormous bolt of shadow at the Doomguard. "Faster! Fly faster!" Arrens yelled. The Doomguard's wings soared through the air as the shadowbolt continued to close in on them. It struck the Doomguard in his right wing searing a hole through it. Screaming in pain, the Doomguard quickly lost altitude sending the two of them careening towards the ground below.
Sacrifice yourself, Arrens thought as they fell fast and furiously. The Doomguard grabbed Arrens roughly around the torso and placed himself beneath the professor. When they crashed, Arrens heard an unnatural crack from behind him as he struggled to catch his breath from the wind being knocked out of him. Dragging himself to his knees, he saw a large, ashen gray rock the Doomguard had struck, its neck twisted in an unnatural angle.
A rush of wind and the Doomguard was gone. Arrens slumped backwards, trying to find a marginally comfortable spot, half-hidden behind the lump of cold, grey stone. He tasted blood, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and wincing. Pain still radiated from the burning scar on his arm, and his robes were soaked through in places with some combination of blood and fel-ooze.
At least, he thought, Aely can heal that kind of thing without much hardship.
Aely.
Tarquin's horrid, mocking laughter filled his mind, and he smelled again the acrid fire that had taken them both into oblivion. The fire he'd conjured. His own magic had murdered the woman who had made him remember what it really meant to love.
He couldn't find it in himself to even weep.
Oh Aely, I'm so sorry.
+++++
Arrens' voice broke through her troubled sleep and Aely fell off the couch, landing on the floor of Arrens' University apartment with an uncoordinated thump. She rubbed at her face, and then her arm, both oddly sore for having landed mostly sitting up on the carpet.
Aely...
She looked at Roger, who didn't seem at all concerned that she'd just come crashing down to his level. "Tha' explains th' radge dreams. Can ye hear him too, air is it jus' me?" The wolfhound looked at her quizzically, as if she'd asked him a complex theoretical magic question. Which, to be honest, she probably had.
Aely... so sorry...
"Guess we ought t' find out whether he c'n hear anythin' in return, yeh?" Roger lay down at her feet. With half a sigh, Aely turned her thoughts inward, trying to ignore the fact that she was talking to the disembodied voice of a man who'd disappeared without a trace over two weeks ago.
Love? Yir sorry f'r what, exactly?
+++++
"...sorry f'r what, exactly?"
Her voice echoed in his mind. Arrens shook his head. Get a grip, Caltrains. First you're talking to her like she can hear you, now you think she's answering you. She's gone.
"c'n hear ye fine. No' gone anywhere. Th' hell are ye?"
Arrens sat up, somewhat taken aback. How... are you hearing me? Aely? Is that you? Almost immediately he heard her voice again.
"Yes, I... Icecrown. Don't know."
But... but Aely, I watched... Are you alright? Are you alive?
"Very much alive. Been feelin' half ay... goin' through. 's like I've go' yir ghost, only ... my head."
Still huddled behind the rock, Arrens heard more demons approaching. "Fel!' he swore under his breath. Chancing a peek around the edge of the boulder, he saw dozens of them steadily closing in on him.
"Find him! And bring him to me!" he heard Kro'thar yell in demonic. He laughed, and Arrens heard him say something he did not understand. "Naztheros adare re rukadare archim ze daz ante!" Half a dozen imps began hopping towards Arrens, mischievous grins dancing across their demonic faces.
Arrens groaned in pain. I'm not sure I've got the energy to fight them all, he thought.
Aely's voice flashed through his mind again - clearer than before.
"Ye spent yir life learnin' t' control an' summon th' powers ay th' Nether. So yir there - yir swimmin' in th' very stuff ye use here, 'cept ye dinna have t' CALL it. It's all 'round ye. Yir a warlock, love."
She was right. As she usually was, Arrens laughed to himself. He took a deep breath and stood to confront the approaching imps. As one, they spotted him and began casting their dangerous fireballs. With a simple thought, he found himself controlling all six of them, their words of magic dying on their hideous lips. He turned them towards a group of succubi to his right and forced them to attack. One by one, the succubi fell, their shrieks drawing the attention of the felguard to his left. Arrens focused the energy of the Nether at the axe-wielding demons and watched as bolts of shadow radiated from his hands at his foes, each one falling dead upon impact.
So much power...
Kro'thar stood in front of Arrens and snapped his fingers. The six imps exploded in a fiery death. "You are, indeed, a worthy adversary, human...for lesser demons, perhaps. But do you truly believe you can face the power of one such as me by yourself?" The demon laughed. "You think you can control the powers of the Nether after so little time upon this plane? I will teach you what true power is." The ground beneath Arrens crackled as a blistering heat began emanating from the scorched earth below. Arrens ran, dashing behind the rock he had huddled behind earlier. "Run! Run, human, because this little game of cat and mouse amuses me. When I catch you, I will make you mine. Or I will kill you. It matters little to me anymore."
The boulder Arrens leaned upon splintered and crackled. Little by little, it disintegrated into a fine dust. "Look around you, warlock," Kro'thar boomed. "You've no place to hide now. Come. Face your destiny. You've infused yourself with fel powers already. You're well on your way to becoming a demonic entity! Give into the powers that course through your veins, human. Given enough time, you will have powers unimaginable upon your home world."
Arrens straightened up slowly, his injuries making standing a difficult task. "And what would you have me do with those powers? Turn them against the same people I've fought alongside with for for all these years? I would sooner die a thousand deaths, demon."
"Then you shall have your wish. Pity. You would have made a fine slave." Kro'thar began casting a spell.
From what Arrens could hear of it, he knew it would be devastating. His thoughts were frantic. He knew standing still would result in his death. Fleeing would simply exaggerate the injuries he'd already incurred. If only I could remove the ward and change to my demon form, at least I would have a chance...
Aely's words came back to him. Ye spent yir life learnin' t' control an' summon th' powers ay th' Nether. So yir there - yir swimmin' in th' very stuff ye use here, 'cept ye dinna have t' CALL it. It's all 'round ye. He looked down at his hands, willing himself to transform and feeling again whatever boundary the Eredar had placed on him. Arrens reached out, trying to find something - anything - in the shadowvoid around him that would protect him from the oncoming doom in Kro'thar's hands.
Barely visible, in the center of the back of each of his hands, a faint blue glow pricked its way through his skin. Kro'thar finished the spell. Arrens watched as it barreled towards him, black and menacing even in such a menacing place. He braced himself for death.
A death which didn't come.
The blue glow on his hands formed into sigils, and as the spell enveloped him they burned into his skin. He gritted his teeth - and the Eredun spell dissipated with a loud crack, leaving him and the Eredar blinking at each other in confusion. Arrens looked back at his hands, fresh arcane burns twitching at every nerve, his skin charred and angry.
Yva's sigils.
He began to laugh. A quiet laugh, almost to himself, cut short by the furious Demonic roar as Kro'thar flung himself towards Arrens. "YOU THINK YOU'RE CLEVER? I WILL BREAK YOU!"
Arrens rolled sideways, the Eredar's arms grasping his own. With that touch, the air around him crackled again, and, though his flesh burned under the touch, the ward was gone. In a flash, two demons fell wrestling, one huge and crimson, the other deep purple and winged - the form of a human warlock transformed.
They rolled, gray dust flying into the darkened air surrounding them. The Eredar's searing touch was lessened in his demonic form, yet Arrens knew he was still not as strong as the larger demon. Kro'thar swung a mighty fist that hit Arrens in the side of the head causing his ear to ring loudly. Arrens swung back connecting solidly with the demon's jaw. "Your puny attempts are laughable, warlock. You think you can hurt me even in your 'true' form? You have so much to ---- AH!" Kro'thar yelled as Arrens dug his long claws into the flesh of the Eredar's head. In what felt like a heartbeat, Arrens saw the demon's life flash before his eyes. From the creature's time on Argus as a recognizable Draenei to what he had become now before him, Arrens saw it all. The deaths of countless civilizations were on this demon's hands as they sought more worlds to conquer, their thirst for power unquenchable.
Kro'thar managed to pull Arrens' claws out of his skull; both the wound and the warlock's hand were covered in fel-ooze. "You'll pay for that, human." The Eredar grabbed Arrens' demonic form around the neck and squeezed. Arrens gasped for breath, his long nails clawing and digging into the demon's hand as he felt himself lifted up and off the ground.
Kicking, gouging and clawing found him no purchase. Arrens didn't have the energy to cast a spell. His thoughts immediately flashed to Aely. H-h-help...love...
As quickly as he had entered the Nether, he was gone.
Arrens sat up on the stone altar and rubbed his neck where the tendrils had held him the tightest. "I would sooner die than serve you or your kind, demon."
Kro'thar looked at him with amusement. "You may very well get your wish." Looking to a Doomguard standing nearby, the Eredar spoke in the same unfamiliar language Arrens could not understand.
The large, winged demon approached Arrens and swung a large fist at the professor's jaw. The unexpected blow sent the warlock reeling. Pulling himself up, Arrens wiped a hand across his face, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. The demon approached again. Arrens attempted to morph into demon form to protect himself, but found himself unable to change. Whatever ward the Eredar had placed upon him was too strong. He had to escape, to put some distance between himself and the demons surrounding him.
Enslave the fel-damned thing, Caltrains!
With a thought, the Doomguard paused. Recognizing exactly what had happened, Arrens mentally told the demon to continue approaching him. That took...nothing. So easy... he thought.
The Doomguard lumbered towards Arrens and gripped him around the throat. The grip, while uncomfortable for Arrens, was not meant to harm him. He heard Kro'thar laugh some feet away clearly enjoying the show.
Fly.
Lifting Arrens in his arms, the Doomguard leapt high into the air, his large wings spreading their full length. From below, the Eredar bellowed, "If you kill him, your pain will be neverending, worm!"
Ignoring the Eredar, the Doomguard continued to slowly elevate, his actions firmly under Arrens' control. "Make haste away from here," Arrens said quietly. The Doomguard began flying quickly away, the barren landscape before them offering little hope but distance between Kro'thar and his band of demonic cohorts. Arrens heard a roar the likes of which he had never heard before from below. Kro'thar had recognized what happened, sending an enormous bolt of shadow at the Doomguard. "Faster! Fly faster!" Arrens yelled. The Doomguard's wings soared through the air as the shadowbolt continued to close in on them. It struck the Doomguard in his right wing searing a hole through it. Screaming in pain, the Doomguard quickly lost altitude sending the two of them careening towards the ground below.
Sacrifice yourself, Arrens thought as they fell fast and furiously. The Doomguard grabbed Arrens roughly around the torso and placed himself beneath the professor. When they crashed, Arrens heard an unnatural crack from behind him as he struggled to catch his breath from the wind being knocked out of him. Dragging himself to his knees, he saw a large, ashen gray rock the Doomguard had struck, its neck twisted in an unnatural angle.
A rush of wind and the Doomguard was gone. Arrens slumped backwards, trying to find a marginally comfortable spot, half-hidden behind the lump of cold, grey stone. He tasted blood, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and wincing. Pain still radiated from the burning scar on his arm, and his robes were soaked through in places with some combination of blood and fel-ooze.
At least, he thought, Aely can heal that kind of thing without much hardship.
Aely.
Tarquin's horrid, mocking laughter filled his mind, and he smelled again the acrid fire that had taken them both into oblivion. The fire he'd conjured. His own magic had murdered the woman who had made him remember what it really meant to love.
He couldn't find it in himself to even weep.
Oh Aely, I'm so sorry.
+++++
Arrens' voice broke through her troubled sleep and Aely fell off the couch, landing on the floor of Arrens' University apartment with an uncoordinated thump. She rubbed at her face, and then her arm, both oddly sore for having landed mostly sitting up on the carpet.
Aely...
She looked at Roger, who didn't seem at all concerned that she'd just come crashing down to his level. "Tha' explains th' radge dreams. Can ye hear him too, air is it jus' me?" The wolfhound looked at her quizzically, as if she'd asked him a complex theoretical magic question. Which, to be honest, she probably had.
Aely... so sorry...
"Guess we ought t' find out whether he c'n hear anythin' in return, yeh?" Roger lay down at her feet. With half a sigh, Aely turned her thoughts inward, trying to ignore the fact that she was talking to the disembodied voice of a man who'd disappeared without a trace over two weeks ago.
Love? Yir sorry f'r what, exactly?
+++++
"...sorry f'r what, exactly?"
Her voice echoed in his mind. Arrens shook his head. Get a grip, Caltrains. First you're talking to her like she can hear you, now you think she's answering you. She's gone.
"c'n hear ye fine. No' gone anywhere. Th' hell are ye?"
Arrens sat up, somewhat taken aback. How... are you hearing me? Aely? Is that you? Almost immediately he heard her voice again.
"Yes, I... Icecrown. Don't know."
But... but Aely, I watched... Are you alright? Are you alive?
"Very much alive. Been feelin' half ay... goin' through. 's like I've go' yir ghost, only ... my head."
Still huddled behind the rock, Arrens heard more demons approaching. "Fel!' he swore under his breath. Chancing a peek around the edge of the boulder, he saw dozens of them steadily closing in on him.
"Find him! And bring him to me!" he heard Kro'thar yell in demonic. He laughed, and Arrens heard him say something he did not understand. "Naztheros adare re rukadare archim ze daz ante!" Half a dozen imps began hopping towards Arrens, mischievous grins dancing across their demonic faces.
Arrens groaned in pain. I'm not sure I've got the energy to fight them all, he thought.
Aely's voice flashed through his mind again - clearer than before.
"Ye spent yir life learnin' t' control an' summon th' powers ay th' Nether. So yir there - yir swimmin' in th' very stuff ye use here, 'cept ye dinna have t' CALL it. It's all 'round ye. Yir a warlock, love."
She was right. As she usually was, Arrens laughed to himself. He took a deep breath and stood to confront the approaching imps. As one, they spotted him and began casting their dangerous fireballs. With a simple thought, he found himself controlling all six of them, their words of magic dying on their hideous lips. He turned them towards a group of succubi to his right and forced them to attack. One by one, the succubi fell, their shrieks drawing the attention of the felguard to his left. Arrens focused the energy of the Nether at the axe-wielding demons and watched as bolts of shadow radiated from his hands at his foes, each one falling dead upon impact.
So much power...
Kro'thar stood in front of Arrens and snapped his fingers. The six imps exploded in a fiery death. "You are, indeed, a worthy adversary, human...for lesser demons, perhaps. But do you truly believe you can face the power of one such as me by yourself?" The demon laughed. "You think you can control the powers of the Nether after so little time upon this plane? I will teach you what true power is." The ground beneath Arrens crackled as a blistering heat began emanating from the scorched earth below. Arrens ran, dashing behind the rock he had huddled behind earlier. "Run! Run, human, because this little game of cat and mouse amuses me. When I catch you, I will make you mine. Or I will kill you. It matters little to me anymore."
The boulder Arrens leaned upon splintered and crackled. Little by little, it disintegrated into a fine dust. "Look around you, warlock," Kro'thar boomed. "You've no place to hide now. Come. Face your destiny. You've infused yourself with fel powers already. You're well on your way to becoming a demonic entity! Give into the powers that course through your veins, human. Given enough time, you will have powers unimaginable upon your home world."
Arrens straightened up slowly, his injuries making standing a difficult task. "And what would you have me do with those powers? Turn them against the same people I've fought alongside with for for all these years? I would sooner die a thousand deaths, demon."
"Then you shall have your wish. Pity. You would have made a fine slave." Kro'thar began casting a spell.
From what Arrens could hear of it, he knew it would be devastating. His thoughts were frantic. He knew standing still would result in his death. Fleeing would simply exaggerate the injuries he'd already incurred. If only I could remove the ward and change to my demon form, at least I would have a chance...
Aely's words came back to him. Ye spent yir life learnin' t' control an' summon th' powers ay th' Nether. So yir there - yir swimmin' in th' very stuff ye use here, 'cept ye dinna have t' CALL it. It's all 'round ye. He looked down at his hands, willing himself to transform and feeling again whatever boundary the Eredar had placed on him. Arrens reached out, trying to find something - anything - in the shadowvoid around him that would protect him from the oncoming doom in Kro'thar's hands.
Barely visible, in the center of the back of each of his hands, a faint blue glow pricked its way through his skin. Kro'thar finished the spell. Arrens watched as it barreled towards him, black and menacing even in such a menacing place. He braced himself for death.
A death which didn't come.
The blue glow on his hands formed into sigils, and as the spell enveloped him they burned into his skin. He gritted his teeth - and the Eredun spell dissipated with a loud crack, leaving him and the Eredar blinking at each other in confusion. Arrens looked back at his hands, fresh arcane burns twitching at every nerve, his skin charred and angry.
Yva's sigils.
He began to laugh. A quiet laugh, almost to himself, cut short by the furious Demonic roar as Kro'thar flung himself towards Arrens. "YOU THINK YOU'RE CLEVER? I WILL BREAK YOU!"
Arrens rolled sideways, the Eredar's arms grasping his own. With that touch, the air around him crackled again, and, though his flesh burned under the touch, the ward was gone. In a flash, two demons fell wrestling, one huge and crimson, the other deep purple and winged - the form of a human warlock transformed.
They rolled, gray dust flying into the darkened air surrounding them. The Eredar's searing touch was lessened in his demonic form, yet Arrens knew he was still not as strong as the larger demon. Kro'thar swung a mighty fist that hit Arrens in the side of the head causing his ear to ring loudly. Arrens swung back connecting solidly with the demon's jaw. "Your puny attempts are laughable, warlock. You think you can hurt me even in your 'true' form? You have so much to ---- AH!" Kro'thar yelled as Arrens dug his long claws into the flesh of the Eredar's head. In what felt like a heartbeat, Arrens saw the demon's life flash before his eyes. From the creature's time on Argus as a recognizable Draenei to what he had become now before him, Arrens saw it all. The deaths of countless civilizations were on this demon's hands as they sought more worlds to conquer, their thirst for power unquenchable.
Kro'thar managed to pull Arrens' claws out of his skull; both the wound and the warlock's hand were covered in fel-ooze. "You'll pay for that, human." The Eredar grabbed Arrens' demonic form around the neck and squeezed. Arrens gasped for breath, his long nails clawing and digging into the demon's hand as he felt himself lifted up and off the ground.
Kicking, gouging and clawing found him no purchase. Arrens didn't have the energy to cast a spell. His thoughts immediately flashed to Aely. H-h-help...love...
As quickly as he had entered the Nether, he was gone.
Re: Dark Summonings
As the summoning's visual disruptions faded, Arrens found himself standing in the middle of his study in Stormwind, a huge summoning circle burned into the carpet. Peering back at him, two faces: Yva Darrows, wearing an expression of clinical curiosity mixed with smug, feline satisfaction and ... Aely? She cracked half a trembling smile at him, her hands white-knuckled from gripping the back of a chair.
He felt the blood drain from his face. I'm having visions. This is another vision. What is Yva doing here? How can Aely be... Arrens' knees sagged, and he found himself supported by very familiar arms.
"'S a'right, Love, 's a'right. I've got ye."
Arrens looked over his shoulder and into her eyes. Her red braid swung around her shoulder.
He smiled softly and lapsed out of consciousness.
****
Aely let Light flow through her hands, running them carefully over the unconscious warlock.
"He'll be all right, I suppose." Yva sat slumped on the couch, half wrapped in one of the blankets from Aely's makeshift bed.
"Yeh. He's go' a handful ay burns - one's bad - all 'is ribs oan one side are brused, an'... mayhap a cracked cheekbone. 'm nervy t' heal him too much, I dinna wan' t' cause some kind ay backlash." She let some Light flow into him, slowly at first, and some of the color came back into his skin.
Satisfied that he was not about to keel over dead, she stood up and began quickly packing up her things.
"Should you travel? He's all . . . broken." Yva flitted her fingers in Arrens' direction, a frown pinching at the corners of her mouth. "I didn't summon him out so he can go and die on you NOW. I'd be rather put out."
Aely stopped stuffing blankets in a bag long enough to shoot Yva a look, incredulity plastered all over her face.
Yva just stared back. "All right, all right. You'd be put out too."
"If I thought he'd die oan th' trip, I'd no' be makin' it. 'm pretty sure he'll do alright - likely t' sleep th' whole way. Figure I'll take him to th' farm in Hillsbrad. With th' riots an' all th' mess wi' Sevens, I dinna trust th' city, an' I dinna want th' University disturbin' him f'r a few days. Folk willna look f'r either ay us there. It's a short trip by ship. I've got th' barn set up t' live in, an' it's warm an' dry. An' quiet." She folded up another quilt and stacked it next to her bags.
"Ah. Well, I suppose you have it under control. Though how you plan to get him from the harbor in Southshore up to that farm, I'll never know. If you'd like I could head up there with Jak and summon you both wi . . . " Yva stopped herself, eyes skimming over Arrens' form. "Nevermind. Summoning might be a bit of a sore subject for the nonce."
Aely snickered involuntarily, stuffing a couple of shirts and a warm cloak into another pack. "Yeh... prob'ly no' a wise idea. 'sides - that very well might do 'im in. My charger c'n carry two easily enough, an' I've ridden farther wi' folk in worse shape before. He's no' bleedin', an' no fever yet. Jus' hope th' weather holds." She looked down at the small pile of belongings, and then at Arrens, lying prone on the floor.
"Yva ... I..." Rather without warning she scooped the smaller woman up into a hug. "Thank ye. I dinna ken how t' repay ye this, but I will."
"Mmmf. You're bloody well crushing me, woman!" Yva pulled back to smile up at her, awkwardly patting her shoulder. "You don't owe me a damned thing. Caltrains might, though. Whatever I come up with won't be too awful, I promise." Her grin was enormous.
*****
Aely booked a passage on a ship bound for Southshore without much trouble. The weather had been strangely clear for February, and with the Love Fool festival around, even the ship captains were in unusually good spirits. The Sister Evelyn wasn't a particularly large vessel, but she was equipped to carry passengers, and made the run between Stormwind and Southshore frequently. Captain Robert Sealy happily welcomed a paladin on board, particularly since Aely promised to take a look at any injuries or illnesses sustained by the crew on their short voyage.
Josef, Captain Sealy's son and cabin boy, helped her carry Arrens down to their leased room.
Nestled just below deck, two tiny portholes offered both light and fresh air in what would otherwise have been a dark cave of a room. Aely made up a bed on the floor, shoving a few of the thin bunk-mattresses together and covering them in the quilts she'd brought. With Josef's help she settled Arrens down gently; he barely stirred, but his skin was warm and he didn't seem feverish or pale.
"Thank ye, lad. I'll need yir help likely t' get him abovedeck when we arrive. An' I'll pay ye fir yir time, dinna ye fash. If ye wouldna mind, take a look in fir my charger, Maera?"
"As you will, ma'am." Josef nodded and shut the door as he left.
Aely opened up both of the little round windows, letting the breeze and the late afternoon sunshine stream in. After a few moments she pulled one of her bags open, found a strip of woven bandages, and started to tend to the burns on Arrens' hands and arm, humming softly to herself and speaking to him.
"Ligh' but I hope ye dinna get seasick, Love, air this'll be a long night."
He mumbled softly, wincing a little as she cleaned the deep burn on his arm.
"I ken. This's bad enough it's like t' hurt worse 'fore its better too. I canna do anythin' f'r th' pain either, no' with ye still asleep." She packed the wound with a clear salve to help with healing and wrapped it with clean bandages. "That'll need changin' too. 'Specially once ye start t' get blood workin' proper there again." She fretted over him for awhile, still attempting to cast healing spells and being met with only mediocre success. Arrens seemed discomfited by them as well, murmuring and shrinking away in his sleep.
"I'm sorry, love. Jus' tryin' t' help ye heal. Dinna ye spike a fever oan me, yeh? No' allowed. Need t' get ye sommat quiet, so ye c'n rest. An' wake up. 'specially th' wakin' up part." He didn't move. "Love? Can ye e'en hear me, where'er ye are? Hear me an' wake up?"
Arrens grimaced.
"Please?"
Left alone in the quiet of the room, with only his pained breathing and the sound of the water on the side of the ship to fill the void of her thoughts, Aely's resolve finally crumbled, and she wept.
*****
The Sister Evelyn made port in Southshore Harbor around noon without event. Aely splinted a sailors' broken fingers, healed a few minor cuts and scrapes, and gave the ship's doctor a large bundle of herbs to make into tea for hangovers, but she had no major work other than one heavily sleeping warlock. Josef had quickly become a friend of sorts, showing her around the ship and introducing her to the crew. He poked his head in through the door, black curls sproinging out around the hat he'd crammed on his head.
"You'll be needing help getting to town, ma'am?"
Aely smiled. "Yeh. I'll need ye t' bring up Maera, an' - if ye wouldna mind - th' two bags here tha' I canna carry oan my back."
"Yes'm, do you want her saddled too?"
"Please, and make sure th' saddle sits forward enough. I've need t' sit behind it, 'cause I dinna wan' t' dump my friend off in th' ditch. I'll meet ye oan th' docks in a handful ay minutes?"
Josef nodded, picking up the two bags and trotting off down the corridor. Packing up the rest of the room took only a few minutes - Aely packed all but one of the quilts, wrapping Arrens in it instead. As they stepped out into the brisk wind on the docks, he stirred slightly, murmuring, but did not wake. Josef was there with Maera, and between the two of them they settled Arrens in for the ride.
Josef peered at the sky. "You've luck, ma'am. The weather's holding. Pops says it's like to snow tonight though. Sure you can make it?"
Aely nodded. "It's no' far, e'en at a walk. An' we'll be warm enough." She passed him down a small handful of coins. "Thank ye fir all th' help, lad. Tell th' Captain I send my regards." She turned and headed towards the road that would take them out of town. Turning at the end of the dock, she waved to Josef. He waved back, "Light go with you!"
*****
Arrens woke with his face buried in the coarse mane of a horse. He had neither the strength nor the energy to lift his head, but he could feel it moving at a brisk walk. Settled firmly in the saddle, someone rode behind him, strong hands gently ensuring he didn't fall off, guiding them to smooth paths and avoiding any jarring terrain. His eyes strained to open. Below the horse's hooves dry fields passed by, with occasional patches of snow that glinted bright white and golden in the late afternoon sun. Someone behind him sang softly, and he instantly recognized Aely's voice.
Fly we on o'er hill and dale
Spruces guard our fairytale
Hemlock branches bless and sway
Ebb and flow while ravens play
He breathed a shallow sigh of relief and lost consciousness once more.
*****
Darkness settled in as Maera walked them through the empty fields and past what was left of Jol's old home. The last hour's worth of flurries finally found purchase on the cold ground, and Aely silently prayed her thanks that they had a solid shelter with a stove. The wind had died down, and the falling snow deadened the sound of Maera's hooves. Everything was utterly still; the whole world seemed to slumber.
Snow is falling on Douglas Mountain
Putting all the bears to sleep
She smiled to herself; the childhood song seemed to fit the situation, even if Arrens was likely too far asleep to hear.
Jolly's barn - her barn - looked just as she'd left it, windows shuttered tightly, a thick layer of snow blanketing the roof. Inside, the air was less cold and very still as she lit two lamps and fired up the heavy stove. Arrens slept, though fitfully, and Aely left him wrapped in his cloak and her quilt while she made sure Maera was settled, warm, and well fed.
Returning to Arrens, she found him stirring in his sleep, perspiration forming on his brow even in the chilled barn. Words escaped his lips, words Aely had never heard before. They didn't sound to her like the demonic he occasionally spoke, yet the dialect had a similarity to that fel-damned language that was unsettling. Her hand on his forehead confirmed the raging fever she'd feared was coming. She quickly set water on the stove to boil, then sat herself down next to him, dampening his lips with a moist cloth and murmuring softly. "Dinna fash, love. Ye've taken a rough trip, but it's a'right." As soon as she had spoken, he appeared to settle down, though the perspiration and the occasional bouts of restlessness remained.
She checked, then rechecked the bandages on his hands and arm, again channeling small amounts of Light into the wounds with some success. The water boiled, and she made tea. Still he didn't wake. Eventually she too fell asleep, curled next to him for the first time in weeks, hoping that, come morning, he'd have fought off the fever and the restless dream that still held him, at least mentally, in the Nether.
He felt the blood drain from his face. I'm having visions. This is another vision. What is Yva doing here? How can Aely be... Arrens' knees sagged, and he found himself supported by very familiar arms.
"'S a'right, Love, 's a'right. I've got ye."
Arrens looked over his shoulder and into her eyes. Her red braid swung around her shoulder.
He smiled softly and lapsed out of consciousness.
****
Aely let Light flow through her hands, running them carefully over the unconscious warlock.
"He'll be all right, I suppose." Yva sat slumped on the couch, half wrapped in one of the blankets from Aely's makeshift bed.
"Yeh. He's go' a handful ay burns - one's bad - all 'is ribs oan one side are brused, an'... mayhap a cracked cheekbone. 'm nervy t' heal him too much, I dinna wan' t' cause some kind ay backlash." She let some Light flow into him, slowly at first, and some of the color came back into his skin.
Satisfied that he was not about to keel over dead, she stood up and began quickly packing up her things.
"Should you travel? He's all . . . broken." Yva flitted her fingers in Arrens' direction, a frown pinching at the corners of her mouth. "I didn't summon him out so he can go and die on you NOW. I'd be rather put out."
Aely stopped stuffing blankets in a bag long enough to shoot Yva a look, incredulity plastered all over her face.
Yva just stared back. "All right, all right. You'd be put out too."
"If I thought he'd die oan th' trip, I'd no' be makin' it. 'm pretty sure he'll do alright - likely t' sleep th' whole way. Figure I'll take him to th' farm in Hillsbrad. With th' riots an' all th' mess wi' Sevens, I dinna trust th' city, an' I dinna want th' University disturbin' him f'r a few days. Folk willna look f'r either ay us there. It's a short trip by ship. I've got th' barn set up t' live in, an' it's warm an' dry. An' quiet." She folded up another quilt and stacked it next to her bags.
"Ah. Well, I suppose you have it under control. Though how you plan to get him from the harbor in Southshore up to that farm, I'll never know. If you'd like I could head up there with Jak and summon you both wi . . . " Yva stopped herself, eyes skimming over Arrens' form. "Nevermind. Summoning might be a bit of a sore subject for the nonce."
Aely snickered involuntarily, stuffing a couple of shirts and a warm cloak into another pack. "Yeh... prob'ly no' a wise idea. 'sides - that very well might do 'im in. My charger c'n carry two easily enough, an' I've ridden farther wi' folk in worse shape before. He's no' bleedin', an' no fever yet. Jus' hope th' weather holds." She looked down at the small pile of belongings, and then at Arrens, lying prone on the floor.
"Yva ... I..." Rather without warning she scooped the smaller woman up into a hug. "Thank ye. I dinna ken how t' repay ye this, but I will."
"Mmmf. You're bloody well crushing me, woman!" Yva pulled back to smile up at her, awkwardly patting her shoulder. "You don't owe me a damned thing. Caltrains might, though. Whatever I come up with won't be too awful, I promise." Her grin was enormous.
*****
Aely booked a passage on a ship bound for Southshore without much trouble. The weather had been strangely clear for February, and with the Love Fool festival around, even the ship captains were in unusually good spirits. The Sister Evelyn wasn't a particularly large vessel, but she was equipped to carry passengers, and made the run between Stormwind and Southshore frequently. Captain Robert Sealy happily welcomed a paladin on board, particularly since Aely promised to take a look at any injuries or illnesses sustained by the crew on their short voyage.
Josef, Captain Sealy's son and cabin boy, helped her carry Arrens down to their leased room.
Nestled just below deck, two tiny portholes offered both light and fresh air in what would otherwise have been a dark cave of a room. Aely made up a bed on the floor, shoving a few of the thin bunk-mattresses together and covering them in the quilts she'd brought. With Josef's help she settled Arrens down gently; he barely stirred, but his skin was warm and he didn't seem feverish or pale.
"Thank ye, lad. I'll need yir help likely t' get him abovedeck when we arrive. An' I'll pay ye fir yir time, dinna ye fash. If ye wouldna mind, take a look in fir my charger, Maera?"
"As you will, ma'am." Josef nodded and shut the door as he left.
Aely opened up both of the little round windows, letting the breeze and the late afternoon sunshine stream in. After a few moments she pulled one of her bags open, found a strip of woven bandages, and started to tend to the burns on Arrens' hands and arm, humming softly to herself and speaking to him.
"Ligh' but I hope ye dinna get seasick, Love, air this'll be a long night."
He mumbled softly, wincing a little as she cleaned the deep burn on his arm.
"I ken. This's bad enough it's like t' hurt worse 'fore its better too. I canna do anythin' f'r th' pain either, no' with ye still asleep." She packed the wound with a clear salve to help with healing and wrapped it with clean bandages. "That'll need changin' too. 'Specially once ye start t' get blood workin' proper there again." She fretted over him for awhile, still attempting to cast healing spells and being met with only mediocre success. Arrens seemed discomfited by them as well, murmuring and shrinking away in his sleep.
"I'm sorry, love. Jus' tryin' t' help ye heal. Dinna ye spike a fever oan me, yeh? No' allowed. Need t' get ye sommat quiet, so ye c'n rest. An' wake up. 'specially th' wakin' up part." He didn't move. "Love? Can ye e'en hear me, where'er ye are? Hear me an' wake up?"
Arrens grimaced.
"Please?"
Left alone in the quiet of the room, with only his pained breathing and the sound of the water on the side of the ship to fill the void of her thoughts, Aely's resolve finally crumbled, and she wept.
*****
The Sister Evelyn made port in Southshore Harbor around noon without event. Aely splinted a sailors' broken fingers, healed a few minor cuts and scrapes, and gave the ship's doctor a large bundle of herbs to make into tea for hangovers, but she had no major work other than one heavily sleeping warlock. Josef had quickly become a friend of sorts, showing her around the ship and introducing her to the crew. He poked his head in through the door, black curls sproinging out around the hat he'd crammed on his head.
"You'll be needing help getting to town, ma'am?"
Aely smiled. "Yeh. I'll need ye t' bring up Maera, an' - if ye wouldna mind - th' two bags here tha' I canna carry oan my back."
"Yes'm, do you want her saddled too?"
"Please, and make sure th' saddle sits forward enough. I've need t' sit behind it, 'cause I dinna wan' t' dump my friend off in th' ditch. I'll meet ye oan th' docks in a handful ay minutes?"
Josef nodded, picking up the two bags and trotting off down the corridor. Packing up the rest of the room took only a few minutes - Aely packed all but one of the quilts, wrapping Arrens in it instead. As they stepped out into the brisk wind on the docks, he stirred slightly, murmuring, but did not wake. Josef was there with Maera, and between the two of them they settled Arrens in for the ride.
Josef peered at the sky. "You've luck, ma'am. The weather's holding. Pops says it's like to snow tonight though. Sure you can make it?"
Aely nodded. "It's no' far, e'en at a walk. An' we'll be warm enough." She passed him down a small handful of coins. "Thank ye fir all th' help, lad. Tell th' Captain I send my regards." She turned and headed towards the road that would take them out of town. Turning at the end of the dock, she waved to Josef. He waved back, "Light go with you!"
*****
Arrens woke with his face buried in the coarse mane of a horse. He had neither the strength nor the energy to lift his head, but he could feel it moving at a brisk walk. Settled firmly in the saddle, someone rode behind him, strong hands gently ensuring he didn't fall off, guiding them to smooth paths and avoiding any jarring terrain. His eyes strained to open. Below the horse's hooves dry fields passed by, with occasional patches of snow that glinted bright white and golden in the late afternoon sun. Someone behind him sang softly, and he instantly recognized Aely's voice.
Fly we on o'er hill and dale
Spruces guard our fairytale
Hemlock branches bless and sway
Ebb and flow while ravens play
He breathed a shallow sigh of relief and lost consciousness once more.
*****
Darkness settled in as Maera walked them through the empty fields and past what was left of Jol's old home. The last hour's worth of flurries finally found purchase on the cold ground, and Aely silently prayed her thanks that they had a solid shelter with a stove. The wind had died down, and the falling snow deadened the sound of Maera's hooves. Everything was utterly still; the whole world seemed to slumber.
Snow is falling on Douglas Mountain
Putting all the bears to sleep
She smiled to herself; the childhood song seemed to fit the situation, even if Arrens was likely too far asleep to hear.
Jolly's barn - her barn - looked just as she'd left it, windows shuttered tightly, a thick layer of snow blanketing the roof. Inside, the air was less cold and very still as she lit two lamps and fired up the heavy stove. Arrens slept, though fitfully, and Aely left him wrapped in his cloak and her quilt while she made sure Maera was settled, warm, and well fed.
Returning to Arrens, she found him stirring in his sleep, perspiration forming on his brow even in the chilled barn. Words escaped his lips, words Aely had never heard before. They didn't sound to her like the demonic he occasionally spoke, yet the dialect had a similarity to that fel-damned language that was unsettling. Her hand on his forehead confirmed the raging fever she'd feared was coming. She quickly set water on the stove to boil, then sat herself down next to him, dampening his lips with a moist cloth and murmuring softly. "Dinna fash, love. Ye've taken a rough trip, but it's a'right." As soon as she had spoken, he appeared to settle down, though the perspiration and the occasional bouts of restlessness remained.
She checked, then rechecked the bandages on his hands and arm, again channeling small amounts of Light into the wounds with some success. The water boiled, and she made tea. Still he didn't wake. Eventually she too fell asleep, curled next to him for the first time in weeks, hoping that, come morning, he'd have fought off the fever and the restless dream that still held him, at least mentally, in the Nether.
[5.OOC] Beltar: Hammer of What The Fuck Were You Thinking
Re: Dark Summonings
Arrens awoke the next morning still wracked with a mixture of exhaustion and pain. His entire body, down to the follicles of his hair, ached. He dragged a hand across his face and noticed the bandages and splints. Breathing was a chore, his ribs broken or bruised, he couldn’t be certain.
He looked around. He knew at first glance he was in some kind of barn. Covered in a thick fur blanket and a stove roaring with flame, the air was warm. Aely walked in from the outside with a feed bucket in hand. Arrens’ voice croaked, “M…my love?”
She smiled, sitting down next to him. “‘lo, sleepy. ‘m glad t’ see yir awake.”
He said one word. “Water.”
Aely turned and grabbed a small container of water from her pack. Holding it to his lips, he drank greedily, water spilling from the corner of his lips until he started choking. She set the container down. “Where…where am I?” he asked.
“Careful, dinna drown yirself. There’s plenty. Wir at th’ farm in Hillsbrad. In th’ barn, if ye’d no’ guessed it from seein’ Maera there.” She helped him sit up a little, stuffing another quilt and a pillow behind him.
He winced as he sat up. Looking down at himself, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the troll mummies he had seen in Zul’Drak. “What the fel happened?”
She laughed. “I figured ye migh’ be able t’ answer me tha’. Yva named ye proper an’ summoned ye back when ye called f’r help, an’ ye came through th’ portal half dead. Ye’ve go’ arcane burns on both hands, a broken finger, an’ some kind ay nasty netherburn on yir arm. All yir left ribs are bruised, an’ I think ye may ha’ broken yir cheekbone. Very least, sommat smacked ye in the head righ’ proper. Yir lip is bloody, an’ I dinna think ye’ve had anythin’ t’ drink or eat in some time. Ye’ve been asleep f’r close t’ two days, an’ ye’ve a proper fever.”
He looked down at his left arm; heavy bandages wound around his bicep. Sniffing it, he said, “I…I smell Liferoot, Steelbloom and Wintersbite. The burn…”
“’s one ay th’ worst I’ve seen. ’s no’ infected, but it may need t’ be cleaned out again. It’s… like t’ leave ye a proper scar. I’ll do as best I can wi’ it.”
“It…it wasn’t just some horrid dream then, was it? I…I didn’t just imagine it all…” His head drooped and his eyes started to water. “Aely, I…I did something…or thought I did something…terrible. I’m not…I’m not sure what’s real or not anymore….”
“Yir here, an’ safe. I’m real. This place’s real. Best we c’n tell, ye spent th’ last weeks in th’ Nether – where things are no’ what they seem. Promise. Dinna think o’ermuch about it, yeh? We’ll get it all sorted. Ye need t’ rest, an’ mend. ’s why I brought ye here.” She kissed his forehead gently, running her fingers through his hair. Arrens involuntarily flinched away from the touch, wincing in pain before settling back down.
Aely pulled away. “Ligh’, I… ‘m sorry, I dinna mean t’…” She reached out to touch his face again and then hesitated. “I’m sorry, Love. ‘m sorry.”
He looked at her bleakly, his face full of pain and confusion. “No, no, it’s just…gods…” He slumped back down causing a sharp pain to shoot along his left side. He groaned in pain before continuing. “Aely, I…I killed you. With my own magic, I killed you. And Tarquin. I saw it. I remember it all. That was no dream. I used real magic, arcane magic, to engulf you, Tarquin and myself in flames! This…this can’t be real!” His voice began to strain with panic.
Aely blinked, hesitating before she spoke again, as though she wasn’t sure what to say. “Love – it’s a’right. I’m here. Ye dinna kill anyone. If it burned ye as well, how did ye live? Why would ye try an’ kill me anyway? Settle yirself, yeh? It’s a’right.”
“No, godsdammit!” he yelled. “It’s not alright!”
Slowly and painfully, he pushed himself away from her, managing to sit up. “Don’t you see? You’re /dead/! This can’t be real! This…this is a trick. That’s what this is. A trick!” His eyes darted around the room as he searched for the hidden hints that would prove this was all another fel dream, a look of panic creeping along the edges of his face. “You’re….you’re a ghost, that’s what you are! Come back to haunt me! I…I won’t have it, Aely! Get away from me!” He tried scrambling backwards in an attempt to get up. Each movement caused sharp pains from each of his numerous wounds, and he became more and more pale with each passing second.
Aely’s face ran a gamut of expressions, from confusion to shock to fear, finally settling on something like horror. Still, as soon as he tried to push himself up to stand, she moved quickly, wrapping herself around him, one arm behind his shoulder, the other around his back, effectively pinning him beneath her, murmuring into his shoulder about not making his injuries worse. He screamed and fought, bandaged hands vying for purchase along her back, grabbing handfuls of her hair and tearing at her shirt, until what little strength he had gave out, and he lapsed back into unconsciousness.
He did not hear her sobs.
*****
He woke some time later feeling groggy and ready to sleep again. Darkness had settled over Hillsbrad, the only light coming from a small lantern and the the faint glow from the stove provided a means to see around him. Aely stood nearby, facing away from him while she got herself ready to sleep. As she pulled her torn shirt over her head, he saw her back, rippled with scars; the scars she had shown him what seemed like a lifetime ago and which were still a part of her she hid at every turn.
Scars.
Again the image of Aely and Tarquin flashed through his mind; long, thieves fingers gliding up the smooth skin of her back, stopping to tilt her head back at him. He was certain he had killed them both, but there had been no scars there. Her voice had no inflection either, no Lordaeron brogue.
A dream…
As the realizition struck him, he fell asleep once more.
*****
Arrens woke to find Aely sleeping soundly next to him and the sun just beginning to break in the distant horizon, soft rays of light peeking through the barn windows. He stretched slowly taking account of what still hurt and what was finally starting to feel better. His left side ached dully, but to his surprise did not give the sharp pangs he had expected.
He propped himself up and looked at his hands. The bandages had been replaced some time over the course of the night, the dressings clean and free of any bloody stains. He carefully removed the bandage from his left hand and inspected it. He could smell the salve that Aely had placed upon it the night prior. Unable to see any noticable scar tissue, he flexed his hand and curled it into a fist. It caused no pain at all. He started the same procedure with his right hand before feeling the splint around his middle finger. Erring on the side of caution, he replaced the dressing as it had been in order to allow it to set properly.
Arrens looked down at his left arm. The large bandage was still there, stained slightly. He sighed deeply and left it alone.
He looked down at the sleeping form beside him. Aely’s back was turned to him, long strands of loose red hair covering her face. Gods, she’s beautiful, he thought. He carefully brushed several of the loose strands of hair back and bent down to kiss her carefully on the cheek.
She startled awake, smiling and turning towards him. Her smile faded within seconds, and she looked at him uneasily. “I… Love?”
He smiled warily and lightly dragged his hand across her face. “I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For…for scaring you, for leaving you, for…” He took a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure. “I…I know what happened. Or, rather, I think I do. The Nether. It…it wasn’t a dream. At least, most of it wasn’t. I was there. I was summoned to the Twisting Nether by an Eredar named…”
“Kro’thar,” she said.
“Yes. Kro’thar. He…he attempted to make me serve him. And in doing so interjected visions in my mind. Visions of…of me…hurting you. I’m not certain why. Perhaps as a means to break me from all I hold dear in my life. Perhaps merely to be a vile, vindictive son of a succubus. I’m don’t know. But…but the fever…” He slumped down slightly, unable to look at her for fear of breaking down.
Aely hesitated for a moment, and then sat up. “I… it’s a’right. I’m fine, an’ ye are nearly so. An’ by th’ look of ye, th’ fever’s broken too. It’s a’right, love.” She wrapped her arms around him carefully.
Arrens hugged her back, holding her as hard as his injuries would allow. He buried his head in her hair and told the story from the beginning, as best he could remember it, from the fel-tainted dream of Kro’thar bringing him to his knees in class to giving full descriptions of how Stormwind was perceived, to him setting her apartment ablaze with arcane fire after catching her in bed with Tarquin. “When…when I woke, I…I saw a succubus and a felguard. They were joined together, but they were burned nearly beyond recognition. I…I wonder if I caused that. If they were, perhaps, the visual representations of…of what was in that dream.”
“I… dinna ken. It’s possible, e’en probable really. Ye carry wounds frae a dream, so it serves wha’ ye could also do damage there. I dinna understand how th’ Nether works, an’ after all tha’? I’m no’ sure I’ve any desire t’ ken. ’specially since I’ve been hearin’ ye an’ sommat e’en feelin’ injuries since ye … left.” She let him lean against her as they talked.
“No, I’d not wish /anyone/ to go there. When…when we were able to talk while I was there, I was still uncertain if…if it was the real you or if it was merely my mind playing tricks on me again. But I…I think I’ve figured it out. Before I was summoned away, I…I linked our souls. Have you noticed anything else untowards besides being able to communicate with me?”
Aely nodded, pulling back from him slightly so he could see her hands. She channeled Light into them, watching as the golden glow saturated her skin. Frowning, she stopped and tried again, but everything seemed normal about her spellwork.
“Is… something wrong? Were you unable to harness the Light?”
She shook her head. “No, ’s just tha’… well, when ye wir gone, I had wee shadowy cobwebs under th’ glow, like there was sommat oan my skin. It started when ye left, so it’d make sense wha’ it was th’ same thing tha’ let me hear ye… ‘cept it’s back t’ normal now. I’m no’ sure wha’ t’ make ay it.”
He looked at her with mild surprise. “I’m…I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned with, my love. If you’d like, I’ll do some research on it once we return to Stormwind.” Aely nodded, and he continued. “Until then, would it be too horrible of me to ask that you simply lay with me and…hold me a while? I’ve missed you, my love.”
Fluffing up the pillows behind her, Aely scooted back slightly, letting Arrens settle himself next to her, his head nestled against her shoulder. “Love, I’ve naught t’ do bu’ get ye mended an’ well. I’ve missed ye, an’ we both need th’ rest. We can stay here ’s long as ye like.”
He looked around. He knew at first glance he was in some kind of barn. Covered in a thick fur blanket and a stove roaring with flame, the air was warm. Aely walked in from the outside with a feed bucket in hand. Arrens’ voice croaked, “M…my love?”
She smiled, sitting down next to him. “‘lo, sleepy. ‘m glad t’ see yir awake.”
He said one word. “Water.”
Aely turned and grabbed a small container of water from her pack. Holding it to his lips, he drank greedily, water spilling from the corner of his lips until he started choking. She set the container down. “Where…where am I?” he asked.
“Careful, dinna drown yirself. There’s plenty. Wir at th’ farm in Hillsbrad. In th’ barn, if ye’d no’ guessed it from seein’ Maera there.” She helped him sit up a little, stuffing another quilt and a pillow behind him.
He winced as he sat up. Looking down at himself, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the troll mummies he had seen in Zul’Drak. “What the fel happened?”
She laughed. “I figured ye migh’ be able t’ answer me tha’. Yva named ye proper an’ summoned ye back when ye called f’r help, an’ ye came through th’ portal half dead. Ye’ve go’ arcane burns on both hands, a broken finger, an’ some kind ay nasty netherburn on yir arm. All yir left ribs are bruised, an’ I think ye may ha’ broken yir cheekbone. Very least, sommat smacked ye in the head righ’ proper. Yir lip is bloody, an’ I dinna think ye’ve had anythin’ t’ drink or eat in some time. Ye’ve been asleep f’r close t’ two days, an’ ye’ve a proper fever.”
He looked down at his left arm; heavy bandages wound around his bicep. Sniffing it, he said, “I…I smell Liferoot, Steelbloom and Wintersbite. The burn…”
“’s one ay th’ worst I’ve seen. ’s no’ infected, but it may need t’ be cleaned out again. It’s… like t’ leave ye a proper scar. I’ll do as best I can wi’ it.”
“It…it wasn’t just some horrid dream then, was it? I…I didn’t just imagine it all…” His head drooped and his eyes started to water. “Aely, I…I did something…or thought I did something…terrible. I’m not…I’m not sure what’s real or not anymore….”
“Yir here, an’ safe. I’m real. This place’s real. Best we c’n tell, ye spent th’ last weeks in th’ Nether – where things are no’ what they seem. Promise. Dinna think o’ermuch about it, yeh? We’ll get it all sorted. Ye need t’ rest, an’ mend. ’s why I brought ye here.” She kissed his forehead gently, running her fingers through his hair. Arrens involuntarily flinched away from the touch, wincing in pain before settling back down.
Aely pulled away. “Ligh’, I… ‘m sorry, I dinna mean t’…” She reached out to touch his face again and then hesitated. “I’m sorry, Love. ‘m sorry.”
He looked at her bleakly, his face full of pain and confusion. “No, no, it’s just…gods…” He slumped back down causing a sharp pain to shoot along his left side. He groaned in pain before continuing. “Aely, I…I killed you. With my own magic, I killed you. And Tarquin. I saw it. I remember it all. That was no dream. I used real magic, arcane magic, to engulf you, Tarquin and myself in flames! This…this can’t be real!” His voice began to strain with panic.
Aely blinked, hesitating before she spoke again, as though she wasn’t sure what to say. “Love – it’s a’right. I’m here. Ye dinna kill anyone. If it burned ye as well, how did ye live? Why would ye try an’ kill me anyway? Settle yirself, yeh? It’s a’right.”
“No, godsdammit!” he yelled. “It’s not alright!”
Slowly and painfully, he pushed himself away from her, managing to sit up. “Don’t you see? You’re /dead/! This can’t be real! This…this is a trick. That’s what this is. A trick!” His eyes darted around the room as he searched for the hidden hints that would prove this was all another fel dream, a look of panic creeping along the edges of his face. “You’re….you’re a ghost, that’s what you are! Come back to haunt me! I…I won’t have it, Aely! Get away from me!” He tried scrambling backwards in an attempt to get up. Each movement caused sharp pains from each of his numerous wounds, and he became more and more pale with each passing second.
Aely’s face ran a gamut of expressions, from confusion to shock to fear, finally settling on something like horror. Still, as soon as he tried to push himself up to stand, she moved quickly, wrapping herself around him, one arm behind his shoulder, the other around his back, effectively pinning him beneath her, murmuring into his shoulder about not making his injuries worse. He screamed and fought, bandaged hands vying for purchase along her back, grabbing handfuls of her hair and tearing at her shirt, until what little strength he had gave out, and he lapsed back into unconsciousness.
He did not hear her sobs.
*****
He woke some time later feeling groggy and ready to sleep again. Darkness had settled over Hillsbrad, the only light coming from a small lantern and the the faint glow from the stove provided a means to see around him. Aely stood nearby, facing away from him while she got herself ready to sleep. As she pulled her torn shirt over her head, he saw her back, rippled with scars; the scars she had shown him what seemed like a lifetime ago and which were still a part of her she hid at every turn.
Scars.
Again the image of Aely and Tarquin flashed through his mind; long, thieves fingers gliding up the smooth skin of her back, stopping to tilt her head back at him. He was certain he had killed them both, but there had been no scars there. Her voice had no inflection either, no Lordaeron brogue.
A dream…
As the realizition struck him, he fell asleep once more.
*****
Arrens woke to find Aely sleeping soundly next to him and the sun just beginning to break in the distant horizon, soft rays of light peeking through the barn windows. He stretched slowly taking account of what still hurt and what was finally starting to feel better. His left side ached dully, but to his surprise did not give the sharp pangs he had expected.
He propped himself up and looked at his hands. The bandages had been replaced some time over the course of the night, the dressings clean and free of any bloody stains. He carefully removed the bandage from his left hand and inspected it. He could smell the salve that Aely had placed upon it the night prior. Unable to see any noticable scar tissue, he flexed his hand and curled it into a fist. It caused no pain at all. He started the same procedure with his right hand before feeling the splint around his middle finger. Erring on the side of caution, he replaced the dressing as it had been in order to allow it to set properly.
Arrens looked down at his left arm. The large bandage was still there, stained slightly. He sighed deeply and left it alone.
He looked down at the sleeping form beside him. Aely’s back was turned to him, long strands of loose red hair covering her face. Gods, she’s beautiful, he thought. He carefully brushed several of the loose strands of hair back and bent down to kiss her carefully on the cheek.
She startled awake, smiling and turning towards him. Her smile faded within seconds, and she looked at him uneasily. “I… Love?”
He smiled warily and lightly dragged his hand across her face. “I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For…for scaring you, for leaving you, for…” He took a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure. “I…I know what happened. Or, rather, I think I do. The Nether. It…it wasn’t a dream. At least, most of it wasn’t. I was there. I was summoned to the Twisting Nether by an Eredar named…”
“Kro’thar,” she said.
“Yes. Kro’thar. He…he attempted to make me serve him. And in doing so interjected visions in my mind. Visions of…of me…hurting you. I’m not certain why. Perhaps as a means to break me from all I hold dear in my life. Perhaps merely to be a vile, vindictive son of a succubus. I’m don’t know. But…but the fever…” He slumped down slightly, unable to look at her for fear of breaking down.
Aely hesitated for a moment, and then sat up. “I… it’s a’right. I’m fine, an’ ye are nearly so. An’ by th’ look of ye, th’ fever’s broken too. It’s a’right, love.” She wrapped her arms around him carefully.
Arrens hugged her back, holding her as hard as his injuries would allow. He buried his head in her hair and told the story from the beginning, as best he could remember it, from the fel-tainted dream of Kro’thar bringing him to his knees in class to giving full descriptions of how Stormwind was perceived, to him setting her apartment ablaze with arcane fire after catching her in bed with Tarquin. “When…when I woke, I…I saw a succubus and a felguard. They were joined together, but they were burned nearly beyond recognition. I…I wonder if I caused that. If they were, perhaps, the visual representations of…of what was in that dream.”
“I… dinna ken. It’s possible, e’en probable really. Ye carry wounds frae a dream, so it serves wha’ ye could also do damage there. I dinna understand how th’ Nether works, an’ after all tha’? I’m no’ sure I’ve any desire t’ ken. ’specially since I’ve been hearin’ ye an’ sommat e’en feelin’ injuries since ye … left.” She let him lean against her as they talked.
“No, I’d not wish /anyone/ to go there. When…when we were able to talk while I was there, I was still uncertain if…if it was the real you or if it was merely my mind playing tricks on me again. But I…I think I’ve figured it out. Before I was summoned away, I…I linked our souls. Have you noticed anything else untowards besides being able to communicate with me?”
Aely nodded, pulling back from him slightly so he could see her hands. She channeled Light into them, watching as the golden glow saturated her skin. Frowning, she stopped and tried again, but everything seemed normal about her spellwork.
“Is… something wrong? Were you unable to harness the Light?”
She shook her head. “No, ’s just tha’… well, when ye wir gone, I had wee shadowy cobwebs under th’ glow, like there was sommat oan my skin. It started when ye left, so it’d make sense wha’ it was th’ same thing tha’ let me hear ye… ‘cept it’s back t’ normal now. I’m no’ sure wha’ t’ make ay it.”
He looked at her with mild surprise. “I’m…I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned with, my love. If you’d like, I’ll do some research on it once we return to Stormwind.” Aely nodded, and he continued. “Until then, would it be too horrible of me to ask that you simply lay with me and…hold me a while? I’ve missed you, my love.”
Fluffing up the pillows behind her, Aely scooted back slightly, letting Arrens settle himself next to her, his head nestled against her shoulder. “Love, I’ve naught t’ do bu’ get ye mended an’ well. I’ve missed ye, an’ we both need th’ rest. We can stay here ’s long as ye like.”
[5.OOC] Beltar: Hammer of What The Fuck Were You Thinking