The Northrend Gambit
- - by Slyph
"It just wouldn't work out...."
"You don't have the key..."
"We can still be friends...."
"You are my best friend..."
Those words.... simple words, really, the giant thought. Amazing how much pain they could bring for one who felt no pain.
The riding wolf padded away, after some trail, snarling at it's master as she pulled on it's ears. Sounds. Meaningless sounds, thought the giant as he fell to his knees. He stripped off the armor that had so protected him, letting it fall to the muddy grass of the island. He raised his hands to the sky, a scream of sorrow was heard in Ashenvale.
"ALL I AM IS MY HATRED!" roared the giant. He felt empty. Alone, in the night sky, all he recieved for answer is the quiet hooting of the owls....
Quietly now, he murmured to the ground, white skull drooping..... "If all I am is my hatred now.... why do I feel so empty.... simple, really... I had something else, other than hatred... for once. But it's gone now."
"Yes, it's gone now. Exactly as I said it would, didn't I?"
Tears would have welled up in the giant's eyes had he any tear ducts left. "Yes. You're right. Blast you, you've always been right. No matter what. Why, couldn't you have been wrong, this one time?"
"My child.... it would not have led you back to me, then... Oh, my prodigal knight. But you must come back now. We agreed. I said love was never going to be found for one such as you, one who is so close to me in heart. You said you had already found it. Truly, I was amazed when I heard this. I did not believe. I asked for proof. And the Deal... oh the deal.... You would rejoin us.... if you lost.... and we would leave you alone... if you won. But now... what would you say? Who has won?"
Slyph bobbed his head, nodding vigorously, hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. "You. Always you, my lord. It will always be you."
The behemoth warrior brought out the blade that he had so long fought with, the one that spoke to him like a long lost friend. "We rejoin our brothers and sisters." The sword sang a song of joy, of happiness. It was returning to where it felt it had always belonged.
The gigantic man thrust the blade through his own chest, piercing rotted flesh and decayed bone. Slyph gasped, and fell into the mud.
Green, unholy energy flowed from around the sword. Spirits, shrieking at the foul magics that corrupted them, entering and exiting the sword at lighting speeds. A great wind kicked up, and the birds of the air flew out in fear of the mystical wind.
The wind stopped. The giant's eyes glowed a dark blue. Cold determination seen behind the unholy orbs, and a breath of frost exited from the bone white jaw. The monster sat up, and wrenched the blade from his chest. No blood. The wound healed immediately.
"Come, Icerage. We have work to do." He lumbered off, into the dark night.... and where he went, the broken bodies of men, women and children left a horrific trail attesting to what the monster saw as the "mockery" of life and the "glorious" promise of death.
Remember, my son. No one shall know of your return to me. And none will, until the time is right....
((..... Aaat least until two level 60's came and kicked my butt at Ashenvale. Lawl. Thank you to those certain parties that helped with this story... and I look forward to more great RP!))
The monster sat on the blood slickened grass, a deep sigh escaping him. He was exhausted from the slaughter. Necromancers moved, fluidly casting their spells to clean up the mess that he had cause. This village would restore some of what the Scourge had lost in the last few weeks.
Another deep sigh escaped, and he reflected on the events that had passed. It was his own fault, really. He had bet on something that he thought he was sure of. He had been wrong, and that had cost him everything. But now.... that he had nothing... it wasn't so bad. Was it? He was serving. It was something he knew how to do. He did not know how to be social. He didn't know how to be friendly. He had tried. And he hadn't gotten much.
Sure, there were the few. But they had their own lives to live, their own interests. They wouldn't notice the change. Not until it was too late.
A little zombie girl rose up from the bloody and muddy ground, running through the folds of the necromancer's robes, towards him. She gave a little "Rawr" and looked pleadingly at Slyph, her eyes bleeding and her neck at an odd angle.
He chuckled, and threw a piece of meat to the little girl. Ironic that it was a piece of her father's heart. The man had died trying to avenge her.... and now she was eating his still warm heart. Yes. The man of the North had been right. He had always been right.
Soon, the necromancer's work was complete. There would be no bodies in this village.... just far too much blood. Such was the work of the Scourge.
Go back to the Horde, my son. See what you can see. Pretend that nothing has happened.
"As you wish, Lord." The monster got up, and took his blades from the ground, pristine despite the gory work they had done, and made for Orgrimmar...
Confusion racked his brain. He had never been confused before when he was a member of the Scourge. It tore at him. Why was this happening? It had never happened to before. It was all because of her. He had no idea what to do. He had failed in everything that he felt valuable in the time that he was "Free." Now he saw the truth, or so he thought. His "freedom" trapped him. Trapped him with feelings, responsibilities, ideas. Things he had never dealt with before.
And his Lord was right.... and also wrong at the same time. He shut his mind off to the siren song of the Scourge for a moment, though his Lord could still know what he thought if he looked in. So confused now. He was the enemy of all life, yet he did not want to kill some of the living. What was wrong with him?
So many things, answered a voice. Not the voice he trusted for so long, nor the commanding voice of his once master in Dalaran. Who was there to trust? He obviously couldn't trust her. Not with this. No.
No one. He couldn't trust anyone with this. That he still felt. That he still cared about a few people. His master must not know that he still cared.... that hatred was not his core anymore. He was empty once more, and this time, the Scourge did not fill it. But he had made a promise, to keep the bet.
But should he? Loopholes. Things had gotten so much more complicated, he thought. No longer black and white. What could he do? Nothing. He would have to play this out to the end. Alone. It seemed that he would always.... be.... alone.
White. Clear, cold, pristine white shone above Slyph's eyes when he awoke. He would smile, if he could. There was something... natural, he felt, about the cold. It made the living feel numb. He was numb to everything. It was this cold that made him feel like he belonged.
Slyph thrashed, to break the ice that surrounded him. He pulled himself out of the fallen snow, and startled a polar bear nearby. The bear let out a roar, and charged at Slyph. Slyph stood his ground, and snarled at the bear.
The bear caught the look in Slyph's eyes.... and saw what he was. The animal stopped, and whimpered once, before turning and fleeing for all it was worth. The bears loping gate was soon lost to sight in the lightly falling snow.
Slyph growled to himself, and checked his equipment quickly. The blizzard from last night had surprised him... but it's not like it really affected him much. He surveyed the area. Looks like another blizzard was going to be started up. Winterspring.... the untamed wilds were the perfect place for one to lose themselves. And that is exactly what he wanted to do.
Freedom had been a burden to him. And now the Scourge was a burden to him. He could hear the whispers of the spirits, an endless chorus of orders and affirmatives or negatives.
The confusion from last night had lifted. She did love him, but not in the way that he had thought. Nor the one that he had wanted. Briefly, he surmised that he had the child like belief that everything was a fairy tale. He had read too many books. And in his mind, he was the hero, even though he was a villain. He supposed... perhaps it was time to change that. His story needed a change. He was a monster. But perhaps he had not accepted it, fully. Monsters are not heroes, yet he had thought himself one.
Slyph chuckled quietly to himself as he thought of these things. He needed to change his view of himself. He needed to see himself as what he was... not as what he was not. He needed to be the monster. Then things would start falling into place. Surely... that had to be it.
Slyph gripped his swords, musing to himself. What would a monster who has fully realized himself do now? Why, kill something to celebrate....
The giant laughed, and disappeared into the now full gale blizzard.....
--Stamp 14:24, 29 August 2007 (UTC)