Thalarion: October 21st: Revelations
*the writing is shaky, as if the writer had suffered a great shock and was still recovering from it*
Invictus is fine. Zachariah Post, who cares for the undead horses here, is making a few minor repairs to him. He isn't a death knight's mount, and he still rots. Despite his smell and the ever-present threat of things falling off of him, I'm fond of Invictus, and I'm glad Mr. Post can take care of him for me. People ask, sometimes, why a blood elf would ride a horse that smells the way Invictus does. Why a blood elf would ride a reminder of what we lost to the Scourge. I smile and pat Invictus's neck, and most of the time he stomps his hoof as if answering the questioner. A Lordaeron horse, living or dead, is worth his weight in gold. Invictus has such spirit! Such a bold heart. I would trust my life to that horse, despite him being undead, because he is loyal to a fault. Stubborn, yes. Incredibly so. But we've been working together for years, and I've done a lot to win his trust. In return, I have a horse whose needs are few, whose stamina cannot be beat, and who comes to my side with a simple spell.
That came in handy last night, following Highlord Blightheart. I am not a spellcaster. My parents wanted me to train with the priesthood, but I never showed more than a mediocre talent. I've picked up a few tricks, though. The one I use the most is a spell to hide myself in the shadows. It doesn't hide my physical form or the sounds I make, as BloodGorger in the little tome reminded me, painfully, but it does hide me from sight. Often that is enough. Last night, though, the most useful little parlor trick was one taught to me by the Forsaken. A simple little shadow spell, and Invictus was called to my side through the shadow realm. I had need of him. The Highlord's hawkstrider was fast, far too fast to track on foot. The signs of her passing would be gone in the heavy traffic of the city and of the Eversong Woods. Her tracks are common, far more common than those of the deathcharger he normally rides. I am not so naive to think he chose Princess by accident. She was meant to shake me. Lucky for me, then, that Invictus is so close at hand. As soon as I was out of sight of Sunthistle, I called Invictus to me, and together we chased the Highlord through Silvermoon and towards the Dead Scar.
I didn't see until later that he'd sent me a note in the little tome. "Bye :)" he said. It very nearly was. I lost him around the ruined Eastern Sanctum. As fleet of foot as Invictus is, his virtue is in his stamina, and rotted muscle could not compete with Princess's superior speed. I searched around the Sanctum for a moment, but it quickly became apparent that a hawkstrider did not move from the Dead Scar to the woods near there. I guided Invictus back down to the Scar, and we continued on. At the speed the Highlord was going, perhaps he'd continued on and I could find signs of Princess crossing the river into the Ghostlands.
Luck was with me. It didn't take much to find him. He stood on the Dead Scar, not far from the river, next to a small waterfall. I dismissed Invictus far back, before Princess could see me and call out an alarm, and then I hid in the shadows. What he was doing there, dismounted, just standing there, I didn't know. I thought at first he meant to lure me away from the city. It certainly seemed that way, considering his earlier messages to me. How easy would it have been for his men to ambush me there, away from the city? I hadn't seen any of them with him that night, so this could have easily been a preplanned ambush. I was wary. I checked the area thoroughly. The only one close by was the one the other death knight, the costumed one, chained in ice. Draken.
He looked like a mess. Even Highlord Blightheart thought so, it seems. In all my time watching him, I've never seen him...I don't know the right word. Let his guard down? Perhaps that's it. He was different when he thought he was alone with one of his men. Reading that, I should add that it wasn't that kind of scene. He seemed to really care. "Titansakes, kid. What the hell is all this?" I remember that well. Kid. No insult. No quick temper, like I'd seen a million times before. Just soft commands. Worry.
It was at this point I realized he might actually think himself alone with his construct. A foolish belief, considering what he hired me to do in the first place, but he does seem arrogant, at least on the surface. In private though...I actually found myself ashamed that I was overhearing something so obviously different from his public face. Here was Nikkitah Blightheart without the public mask. There may be a mask on underneath that mask he wears in Silvermoon, but whatever it is he shows in private, I would wager it is closer to this. Not an arrogant thug, but closer to a real leader.
He was quieter when he was alone with his men in Tirisfal, as well.
It's what I'd been looking for in him. Why I'd been watching. While he spoke to Draken, I crouched behind a tree and wrote him a message in the little tome. "We should talk later. No tricks on my part. I'll be visible. I owe you something." He didn't answer for a while, of course. He was busy. I'd written it, though, and even though I wanted to slip away, I didn't. Something kept me there, listening.
Draken was weaker than the others. That much I'd understood before, from watching them in Silvermoon, but I hadn't realized just how different he was. I didn't think the undead were even capable of the feelings that he was...not even trying to conceal from the Highlord. He looked suicidal. His arms were carved with moths. That looked like it hurt, but I'm not sure he even felt it. Not because he was undead, but just because he wasn't aware of it. He wasn't aware of much.
"Kier wants me to get rid of you." That simple statement, and the simple act of removing his glove wrought such a change in Draken, I couldn't resist getting closer, trying to hear everything they were saying. I think a skeletal warrior almost saw me as I crept closer. There was such panic in the construct. Highlord Blightheart grabbed his chin and tried to speak past the panic. The names he said meant nothing to me. I have them written down, just in case, but it was the next part that fascinated me. I could barely hear it, past the noise from the falls. "But...ne secret...st you with anym..." I couldn't hear anything else. I had to move, lest the Scourge stumble over me where I crouched. When I looked again, this time safely crouched beside a tree, their hands were cut and pressed tightly together.
I can't imagine what happened. Something did happen, of that I'm certain. When Highlord Blightheart looked up again, a good while later, his nose bled and he looked tired. Spells. Trickery. Mental manipulation. Something happened, something in Draken's mind. It scares me, even now, that someone would have that kind of power. I guard my mind as best I can, but something like that? Could you guard against an invasion like that? I'm not sure. I wanted, then, to edge away, to flee, but I didn't dare. It was a matter of survival, then. Learn more. Find out what I'm dealing with.
I was disappointed. They didn't say much afterwards. They left for the city. I lost them both again, on our way up the Dead Scar. They had a head start, and this time I suspected it wasn't just Princess's speed in her favor. Perhaps something about death knights. I wouldn't want to be pursued by one. It wasn't hard to follow their trail, though. They'd obviously annoyed the remaining, weakened Scourge in the Scar, and as I passed I saw ghouls giving up and breaking off the chase to find easier prey. I entered the city long after them, but I didn't try to find them. Not this time. No, I headed back to the Highlord's mailbox, where his man Sunthistle still waited. I was still mounted on Invictus. Still visible. The Highlord rode up behind me.
We exchanged pleasantries. I think, perhaps, our talk tonight will go okay. I...have a lot to apologize for. I never realized just how much of his behavior was a mask, meant to protect others. Their appearances in Silvermoon, his attitude...If he's so different in private, perhaps that's why he has such loyal followers. We'll see. I meet with him tonight, and I won't be wearing my mask.
Terrifying prospect.
Invictus is fine. Zachariah Post, who cares for the undead horses here, is making a few minor repairs to him. He isn't a death knight's mount, and he still rots. Despite his smell and the ever-present threat of things falling off of him, I'm fond of Invictus, and I'm glad Mr. Post can take care of him for me. People ask, sometimes, why a blood elf would ride a horse that smells the way Invictus does. Why a blood elf would ride a reminder of what we lost to the Scourge. I smile and pat Invictus's neck, and most of the time he stomps his hoof as if answering the questioner. A Lordaeron horse, living or dead, is worth his weight in gold. Invictus has such spirit! Such a bold heart. I would trust my life to that horse, despite him being undead, because he is loyal to a fault. Stubborn, yes. Incredibly so. But we've been working together for years, and I've done a lot to win his trust. In return, I have a horse whose needs are few, whose stamina cannot be beat, and who comes to my side with a simple spell.
That came in handy last night, following Highlord Blightheart. I am not a spellcaster. My parents wanted me to train with the priesthood, but I never showed more than a mediocre talent. I've picked up a few tricks, though. The one I use the most is a spell to hide myself in the shadows. It doesn't hide my physical form or the sounds I make, as BloodGorger in the little tome reminded me, painfully, but it does hide me from sight. Often that is enough. Last night, though, the most useful little parlor trick was one taught to me by the Forsaken. A simple little shadow spell, and Invictus was called to my side through the shadow realm. I had need of him. The Highlord's hawkstrider was fast, far too fast to track on foot. The signs of her passing would be gone in the heavy traffic of the city and of the Eversong Woods. Her tracks are common, far more common than those of the deathcharger he normally rides. I am not so naive to think he chose Princess by accident. She was meant to shake me. Lucky for me, then, that Invictus is so close at hand. As soon as I was out of sight of Sunthistle, I called Invictus to me, and together we chased the Highlord through Silvermoon and towards the Dead Scar.
I didn't see until later that he'd sent me a note in the little tome. "Bye :)" he said. It very nearly was. I lost him around the ruined Eastern Sanctum. As fleet of foot as Invictus is, his virtue is in his stamina, and rotted muscle could not compete with Princess's superior speed. I searched around the Sanctum for a moment, but it quickly became apparent that a hawkstrider did not move from the Dead Scar to the woods near there. I guided Invictus back down to the Scar, and we continued on. At the speed the Highlord was going, perhaps he'd continued on and I could find signs of Princess crossing the river into the Ghostlands.
Luck was with me. It didn't take much to find him. He stood on the Dead Scar, not far from the river, next to a small waterfall. I dismissed Invictus far back, before Princess could see me and call out an alarm, and then I hid in the shadows. What he was doing there, dismounted, just standing there, I didn't know. I thought at first he meant to lure me away from the city. It certainly seemed that way, considering his earlier messages to me. How easy would it have been for his men to ambush me there, away from the city? I hadn't seen any of them with him that night, so this could have easily been a preplanned ambush. I was wary. I checked the area thoroughly. The only one close by was the one the other death knight, the costumed one, chained in ice. Draken.
He looked like a mess. Even Highlord Blightheart thought so, it seems. In all my time watching him, I've never seen him...I don't know the right word. Let his guard down? Perhaps that's it. He was different when he thought he was alone with one of his men. Reading that, I should add that it wasn't that kind of scene. He seemed to really care. "Titansakes, kid. What the hell is all this?" I remember that well. Kid. No insult. No quick temper, like I'd seen a million times before. Just soft commands. Worry.
It was at this point I realized he might actually think himself alone with his construct. A foolish belief, considering what he hired me to do in the first place, but he does seem arrogant, at least on the surface. In private though...I actually found myself ashamed that I was overhearing something so obviously different from his public face. Here was Nikkitah Blightheart without the public mask. There may be a mask on underneath that mask he wears in Silvermoon, but whatever it is he shows in private, I would wager it is closer to this. Not an arrogant thug, but closer to a real leader.
He was quieter when he was alone with his men in Tirisfal, as well.
It's what I'd been looking for in him. Why I'd been watching. While he spoke to Draken, I crouched behind a tree and wrote him a message in the little tome. "We should talk later. No tricks on my part. I'll be visible. I owe you something." He didn't answer for a while, of course. He was busy. I'd written it, though, and even though I wanted to slip away, I didn't. Something kept me there, listening.
Draken was weaker than the others. That much I'd understood before, from watching them in Silvermoon, but I hadn't realized just how different he was. I didn't think the undead were even capable of the feelings that he was...not even trying to conceal from the Highlord. He looked suicidal. His arms were carved with moths. That looked like it hurt, but I'm not sure he even felt it. Not because he was undead, but just because he wasn't aware of it. He wasn't aware of much.
"Kier wants me to get rid of you." That simple statement, and the simple act of removing his glove wrought such a change in Draken, I couldn't resist getting closer, trying to hear everything they were saying. I think a skeletal warrior almost saw me as I crept closer. There was such panic in the construct. Highlord Blightheart grabbed his chin and tried to speak past the panic. The names he said meant nothing to me. I have them written down, just in case, but it was the next part that fascinated me. I could barely hear it, past the noise from the falls. "But...ne secret...st you with anym..." I couldn't hear anything else. I had to move, lest the Scourge stumble over me where I crouched. When I looked again, this time safely crouched beside a tree, their hands were cut and pressed tightly together.
I can't imagine what happened. Something did happen, of that I'm certain. When Highlord Blightheart looked up again, a good while later, his nose bled and he looked tired. Spells. Trickery. Mental manipulation. Something happened, something in Draken's mind. It scares me, even now, that someone would have that kind of power. I guard my mind as best I can, but something like that? Could you guard against an invasion like that? I'm not sure. I wanted, then, to edge away, to flee, but I didn't dare. It was a matter of survival, then. Learn more. Find out what I'm dealing with.
I was disappointed. They didn't say much afterwards. They left for the city. I lost them both again, on our way up the Dead Scar. They had a head start, and this time I suspected it wasn't just Princess's speed in her favor. Perhaps something about death knights. I wouldn't want to be pursued by one. It wasn't hard to follow their trail, though. They'd obviously annoyed the remaining, weakened Scourge in the Scar, and as I passed I saw ghouls giving up and breaking off the chase to find easier prey. I entered the city long after them, but I didn't try to find them. Not this time. No, I headed back to the Highlord's mailbox, where his man Sunthistle still waited. I was still mounted on Invictus. Still visible. The Highlord rode up behind me.
We exchanged pleasantries. I think, perhaps, our talk tonight will go okay. I...have a lot to apologize for. I never realized just how much of his behavior was a mask, meant to protect others. Their appearances in Silvermoon, his attitude...If he's so different in private, perhaps that's why he has such loyal followers. We'll see. I meet with him tonight, and I won't be wearing my mask.
Terrifying prospect.