[Log] Mercenary
Who: Agrias Oaks, Frozen Heart, Simon Parker, Zack Fair
Where: Fantasy Sector - The Lap
When: 09 September 2008
What: Arthas Menethil strikes a deal with the Deathlords of Creation, and they have a small matter for their newfound death knight, Agrias Oaks, to take care of...
Watch For: Do not mess with the happy fun Team IPA.
Fantasy Sector - The Lap
The Lap is emblematic of Creation only because of its strangeness. Some time in the First Age, an entire mountain in the South was sculpted into a great statue of a monk, sitting with his legs crossed as he meditated. Despite millennia of weathering and damage, the mountain - often called the Old Man - still stands. The Lap is named because of where it sits: inside the monk's lap.
The city itself consists of adobe buildings, which tower above the lands around it. They fill the Lap and the pathways leading downward. There is but one path, leading down the legs of the Old Man, which is readily defensible. This makes the Lap one of the best fortified cities in the world. To make matters worse, the surrounding lands consist of field after field of grains and other food. It provides it with a surplus of food that can last years. Laplanders often export their food throughout the South of Creation.
Contents:
Agrias Oaks
Frozen Heart
Meliadoul Tengille
Simon Parker
The Southwest
Obvious exits:
orth leads to Fantasy Sector - The Imperial Mountain.
own the hill leads to Fantasy Sector.
Frozen is not watching his Manse being built over in the icy mountains. It'd be too dangerous, too likely to draw attention from the wrong parties. He doesn't want to endanger his chances or the dwarves who are helping him, not when he's so close. Not when his goal is in sight.
Instead, he is here in this village, where he told a select few he'd be; a trading town in the snowy plains of the North, where he remains at the tavern of a local inn, poring over notes and books. It's almost complete, the spell. He had to make adjustments, to help design the device that would cast the spell, to go over every single detail. Everything has been perfect.
To others, he simply appears to be a pale young man in a ragged cloak, with his white hair tied back in a scarf. To someone with spiritual sense, he's a bloody torch of dark power.
When Simon radioed her with some hairbrained scheme he had to rescue Agrias, Meliadoul was (understandably) skeptical. However, considering the state that the Demon's vessel is in, she could find no reason to say no. So she hopped out, saddled up Biggs and picked up Simon.
The fearless chocobo bears both riders with little complaint, though the handful of Greens it got as a treat earlier may have helped. She is dressed for the weather, her standard armor and mail over padded leather and a thick heavy fur lined cloak wrapped about her shoulders, the hood raised and pull low over her head.
When the approach the village, the knight sighs. "I hope you know what you're doing Parker," she mutters as she dismounts first and then helps the Demon off as well. "This damn cold here and I don't like the way the natives are eyeing our ride."
Simon Parker dressed for the cold. He's wearing a long winter coat over his suit and jacket, and heavy boots in place of shoes. He blows into his gloved hands after Meliadoul helps him off-he can feel the biting cold, even here. "My contact told me he was staying in this inn," Parker says. He reaches out to grab Meliadoul's shoulder, and steady himself. "He's headquartered in this area. He's an expert on curses of undeath."
Which might beg the question of what, precisely, he is, but Parker doesn't linger on the subject too long. Dead eyes focus on the tavern-he can sense the forms of people through the wood... including one particularly vile spot of necrotic Essence. Just looking at it reminds Simon of Rimehowl, but he steels himself, swallowing hard. "That's him. He's in the tavern. Let's go."
Far afield from the inn, a single soldier marches across the land, mounted on another of the chocobos that bear the two agents towards the inn. But this is a bird of a far different feather. Alkoun and his master bring howling winter wind where they go, and in a land so closely tied with the energy of the spirit world, they reek of wrongness.
They pass on roads little-travelled, less out of fear and more out of convenience. These by-roads lead them straight for their quarry. The Silver Prince had communicated his desire to stamp out a certain Deathknight, and in turn, the Lich King of Azeroth had demonstrated that he had just the Death Knight to take care of this little problem. This killed two birds with one stone, too - it made an excellent opportunity for Arthas to force a little discipline into the newest, most recalcitrant member of his Death Knights.
Funny how things worked out that way.
The Death Knight doesn't seem to be in any hurry, and stories of her passing follow her; occasionally, rumour even rides ahead of her position a short ways. She moves leisurely, with no need to stop for eating, sleeping, or drinking. Those concerns are far beyond her, in her current state. She has time only for the hunt.
Both knight and chocobo wear solid black plate armour, the gauntlets fashioned into talons; the rest of it suitably angular and hard-edged. The knight wears no helm - her hair is stark white, pulled back into a herringbone braid. Her eyes are perhaps the most chilling feature; the brilliant cyan fire of the Scourge, with no trace of humanity behind them.
They blaze with their own chill light, but there's no mistaking the fact that they're dead.
She doesn't quite approach the square where the inn rests, but word is already beginning to travel down the street in hushed whispers; describing the terrifying woman, who carries an aura of fear, death, and ice.
Indeed... where the Alkoun steps, talon-prints of ice are left in his wake.
Rumors of the approaching dark figure don't quite reach Frozen Heart yet; he's still quite visible to Simon as that beacon of dark energy. To Meliadoul, he's just some bespectacled boy buried in books at a table. Books, and a half-eaten cinnamon-scented dessert; he takes a spoonful of it now and then as he mulls over his writings. He certainly doesn't look like an expert of the undead; then again, those are some pretty hefty texts.
Like others, he does look up when, as the villagers put it, a 'great chicken' arrives with two visitors, one a blind man. He can't quite recognize Simon yet, but it does bring his attention; in fact, any news of visitors tends to do that, and he suddenly tries to look a whole lot less conspicuous.
But he's not giving up his dessert yet.
The 'great chicken' warks a bit as Meliadoul feeds him another handful gysahl greens and pets him. Hopefully the harness and some of the barding upon the great bird will prevent the residents from attempting to kidnap it. She takes a look about the sleepy town, completely unaware that Agrias Oaks is not far behind. Would she be here if she knew though?
She looks to Simon as he confirms the presence of the one he's looking for. "Very well." She offers her hand to Simon (if he didn't bring something like a guiding stick) and uses the other to open the door. Stepping in, she sweeps her eyes over the inn and tries to spot their 'prey'. Her eyes fall on Frozen Heart. He is an unfamiliar face, but all those books and that scholarly (nerdy) demeanor certainly puts him out of place with everyone else.
She leans towards Simon and lifts his hand, using it to gesture in Nigele's direction. "Is that him?"
The demon takes Meliadoul's hand and follows the knight into the tavern, walking slightly slower to make sure he doesn't trip over irregularities in the floor. "There." Simon points directly at Nigele, confirming Meliadoul's suspicions. He fixes blind, glowing sockets on the Deathknight, and tries his best to look innocent. "Peleps Nigele?" the demon murmurs, as he takes an uneasy step closer.
"I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but my companions and I are in need of your services. It's very important." Then he leans in closer, trying not to gag on the necrotic Essence, and whispers to the boy: "Lera sent us."
People are already scattering, several blocks away from the inn.
The Death Knight does nothing to encourage their panic beyond her fearsome aura. This rabble doesn't involve her in the least, and killing them in the name of the Scourge would serve little purpose. The Silver Prince and the Lich King seek to slay a single target, and that she'll do. The others are beyond her interest.
It's a token resistance, but one that does give the shred left of Holy Knight some satisfaction. There will be no meaningless death, here. She would rather not kill at all, but she simply isn't strong enough to resist the ruler of the Frozen North.
...Were she strong enough for that, she never would have been in this situation in the first place.
Alkoun strides purposefully through the crowd, his heavy, black iron barding rattling with every step. Agrias maintains a firm grip on the reins, her eyes scanning the roads, until the lifeless cyan blaze of her eyes fall on the inn.
There. She isn't quite certain how she knows, but she knows. The sight of a chocobo does give her some pause - are those even native to this realm? - but she doesn't dwell on it.
She's already vaulting up from the saddle halfway along the street, heedless of the people beginning to break into a run away from her. Alkoun is left there to fend for himself, which he does admirably; snapping aggressive at the fleeing passers-by that draw too close.
Agrias doesn't pay the commotion any mind. Long, purposeful strides take her straight for the door of the inn, and she plants a talon-gauntleted hand flat on the door; pushing it open. The force of the blow causes the door to slam shut behind her.
The Death Knight's footfalls are loud in the sudden silence, slowing to a halt. It's about then that her eyes fall on the gathering of Meliadoul, Nigele, and Parker.
That is the one. The voice is silent to all but Agrias; but for a moment, that icy presence seems even more pronounced. Frost begins to spiderweb outward from the points where her boots touch the floor. The sallow youth in spectacles. Kill him, the Lich King commands. Do not return until it is done.
All throughout, Agrias stands with her head cocked slightly to one side, as though listening. And then, she bows her head, though something about it seems not quite accepting. "Yes, my Lord." Her voice is quiet; a rasp, deeper than it ought to be. Inhuman.
"The Frozen Heart Pierced by a Thousand Arrows," she commands, drawing herself up and pulling the runeblade down from her shoulder. If Nigele reeks of tainted Essence, than the presence of the runeblade is overpowering in its wrongness. "Thy death is sought, and shall be granted. Resisting shall only delay the inevitable." Rimehowl's runes flare a brilliant cyan as she raises the blade, pointing it straight at the former Deathknight. A dismissive glance is flicked towards the others.
Inside, the part of her still under her own control curses silently, despairing. She hadn't expected them to be there. She hadn't wanted to fight them, or to see in any more depth what she had done to Parker. It was painful enough to carry out that curse.
They may see that flicker; that momentary hesitation.
Agrias Oaks is still in there... somewhere.
And then, that flash of humanity is gone. Blank cyan eyes, suffused in their own fel light, turn back towards Nigele. "Hast thou any final words?"
As Meliadoul and Simon approach, Frozen looks up, blinking at the use of that name. Simon, at least is familiar-though the man's eyes give him quite a bit of concern. "I'm afraid I-"
Sent by Lera. He stands, quietly, and nods then, closing his books and quickly gathering them in his backpack-like satchel. "Very well, then," he adds in a quiet tone. "Let us take this somewhere quiet, and I can ask you about..."
The door is busted open, but immediately before that, he can feel the shudder of dark, twisted energy ahead of him. The fact that it doesn't feel painful or unpleasant to him is only proof of his own broken nature. But he would have known from the start that Agrias is some form of Deathknight or dark servant; she's doing very little to hide it. His red eyes widen and then narrow; he'd hoped this village would be safe. A cold glance is sent towards his other visitors. "Did she follow you here?!"
"And you." His tone is cold, even as the mortals start fleeing the inn. He's never met Agrias before; for all he knows, this is the genuine article. "You'd better not have brought a call to the Wyld Hunt down on our heads. If He's sent another tool after me, so be it, but you'll quickly learn not to be so overconfident!" His cloak flares around him as he unwraps his longbow, looking to the others.
"...By any chance, is this what you came to warn me about?!"
This individual is an acquittance of Lera's? How... odd. But Meliadoul has long since learned not to judge an individual by their looks. She nods a bit and reaches out to help Nigele in cleaning up when a chilly blast of air whips past her and she shivers. But it is the slamming of the door that catches her attention and she turns. Immediately her lips curl into an angry snarl. She reaches immediately for her sword and draws it, noting that her eyes have changed. They are no longer gold but blue, blue like Zack's Mako infused eyes, blue like Simon's currently glowing points of light that act as eyes.
"You gave in," She snarls angrily at Agrias. She had not thought to bring her shield, just her sword and so she changes her stance to hold it between two hands. "I do not know if she followed us Ser," she addresses to Nigele, not even bothering to look at him. "But if she did, I had no knowledge of her." Her moves to physically impose herself, to be a shield of metal, leather and flesh between the Death Knight in front and the Demon and Death Knight behind.
"Warn you ser?" She pauses just for a moment to give Simon a sharp look. "We had hoped you could help us with this problem." The templar gestures at Agrias and then spits in her general direction. "If you want the boy Oaks, you will have to defeat me first!"
"No," Parker hisses, as the taverngoers scatter in terror. "She's the one we've come here to save." There's a sudden flare of Essence, and a black-steel two-handed blade slides neatly out of the demon's right sleeve. He might be blind to any nonliving obstacles in the tavern, but he can see Agrias bright as day.
"Agreed," the Balseraph snarls. The Bloody-Handed Judge is brought up to guard Nigele, and Simon moves forwards to interpose himself between the Death Knight and the boy. "You will not have him. Haven't you done enough damage already? Aren't you satisfied?" Please say yes.
The Death Knight stands in silence, arm still as stone where she holds Rimehowl up. It forms a straight line with her arm, unbroken, as though the cursed blade were apart of her. She doesn't move even as Nigele makes his accusations. He doesn't particularly interest her, or the core of her that remains; she had never met Nigele.
But the accusations from her companions... to see such hate and anger in Meliadoul's eyes... that's almost too much.
Why do you hesitate? Strike them down while they are waiting. The Lich King's disapproval is like a physical weight. Crush them. Perhaps they might be of some use to the Scourge. Lowly sentries, perhaps.
I cannot fight them, she protests hotly. Have I not done enough already? I will not-
You can, and you shall.
But Agrias finds a small reserve of inner strength; a token bit of resistance left that the Lich King hasn't crushed quite yet. Rimehowl slams down to the floor of the inn, punching through the wooden flooring. She hunches over the blade, as though she were resisting a great weight over her shoulder - and the cyan at her eyes flickers, dying out for a moment. The colour behind them is a sickly corpse-yellow, but not the blue of the Scourge.
Her voice is choked when she speaks, and it sounds more like herself.
"Help me," she pleads, fearfully, gripping the cursed sword's hilt so tightly it creaks. "This is not me, this is the doing of the Lich-" She tenses, as though fighting something off. "No," she snarls abruptly, to no one in particular, as though arguing with a fourth, unseen party. "I will not-"
The cyan flickers, briefly, almost winning for a moment. She turns her eyes back towards her allies. "My time is short. Save me from this thing," she pleads, looking and sounding absolutely terrified. "I swear to you, this is not my own doing. I-I cannot resist his control, he is too strong; this-"
She startles as though physically struck; her entire body convulsing briefly. And in that brief moment, the Lich King seems to regain control; eyes flaring a soulless, featureless cyan once again.
She merely smirks as she straightens, as though the weight were gone from her shoulders. Rimehowl is effortlessly plucked from its wedge between two floorboards, held aloft for a moment. And then, she begins advancing towards Meliadoul and Nigele. "Now is the time for thy judgment. Yon runeblade shall not falter again. Offer ye your life in exchange for this whelp?" She laughs, the tone deep and... wrong. "So be it. I will slay all three of you."
"...The Lich King commands it."
Before she's even finished speaking, she's raised the blade, and true to its namesake, Rimehowl gives voice to a discordant, shrieking howl as it raises; the runes on its surface glaring in brilliant cyan, frost spiderwebbing down its surface and coating the blade. Heedless of the proximity, she advances on Meliadoul, giving arm to a hearty two-handed swing.
"For the Scourge...!"
The fearsome Frozen Heart Ensnared in a Thousand Arrows...
Now has a knight and a blind whatever-Simon-is trying to guard him. "You...you don't need to protect me!" He insists this in a clearer, more human tone than the haughty one he's taken before. "You really don't, this is sort of my problem, unless...oh, you know her..."
He takes a step back, and then jumps onto the table itself, looking down at the tormented Deathknight. He falls silent, starting to recognize not only that twisted unholy power, but that struggle. A well of familiar regret rises up in him, and for a moment, he is silent; he was prepared a few moments ago to kill this woman if he needed to. But now...
His own eyes shine a faint red, and Simon will detect dark Essence swirling around him. "You needn't listen to the words of that master! No one can truly command a great warrior! You-you yourself have to break the chains of whatever you're trying to escape from!" Even as he uses his cloak to shield himself from the strange power surrounding Agrias, he summons some of it himself, his hands opening and summoning forth dark-tinged Essence ice arrows; four he releases from his bow at the Knight in a razor-sharp flurry.
"Don't worry, I can defend myself! Please, run away if you need to...!"
Meliadoul can't hear the voice in Agrias's head, but she can certainly see the effects of it. The former Holy Knight slams Rimehowl into the ground and the templar nearly drops her own blade. "Agrias!" Is it a trap? She steadies her sword as she slides towards the knight, caution in every step. "Agrias, do not worry." Her voice is soft, meaning to calm and placate. "We will purge this darkness from you and strike the evil within."
She is closer now, close enough that she can see the sickly yellow of her eyes. Close enough that when Rimehowl is torn from the ground, it nearly cuts hairs from her head as she quickly back pedals. Her nostrils flare then, the gleaming blade of Save the Queen held aloft. "I offer no life to your Lich King. Do you hear me?!" She is shouting at Arthas now, "I refuse to give any life to you!"
The runesword howls and is met with great force as Meliadoul brings her own sword down. Silver and Black steel kiss, leaving sparks in their wake. The force of it is nearly enough to make the templar's knees buckle and IS enough to cause her arms to go numb for a moment. "No..." She growls towards Nigele, "I will not leave you nor will I leave her. Not to that monster of a man controlling her mind!"
"Bless it, Oaks!" Parker protests, as he feels more than sees the Lich King's hold on her slipping. "Shake it off, shake it off! I know you-" And then his heart sinks; Agrias is his pawn once more. "Bless it!" There's desperation in his voice, plain and clear. He feels the sudden surge of necrotic Essence from behind, and dives out of the way as Frozen Heart fires arrows at his once-Captain; Parker hits the ground in a heap, and then struggles to his feet.
Blind-fighting. Well, almost. Simon nearly knocks a laden table over in his rush to get to Agrias-the Judge's tip gouges out part of a floorboard as he drags the not-daiklave with him. What follows is an awkward swing if ever there was one, a blow meant to be delivered with a golf club, not a sword. Parker is definitely not used to fighting like this.
Rimehowl sings in discordant song as the runeblade is brought down in a cleaving, two-handed strike. Instead, it meets with the blessed edge of Save the Queen, spitting white-hot sparks as the two blades pass by, glancing off of one another.
If she had any sensation left, the impact of such a blow would have numbed Agrias' arms to the shoulders. As it is, the blow barely seems to slow her down. She takes a step forward, raising the runeblade and striking out again, this time in a sideways blow. It's as though she doesn't even hear the others and their words of encouragement; their striving to help the woman trapped in the Lich King's icy talons.
"I have no need of escaping the One True King." Her voice carries that renewed taint to it; that cold and rasping tone. She's not herself any more, and as though to reinforce that, a cruel smile flickers across her features. "Some use will be found for all of you. Of that I have no doubt. You, Knight Templar; you may yet be a worthy combatant, once ye have been shown the proper way. Thy prowess is noted, if misplaced."
Agrias flicks her blade, lashing out to try and catch Meliadoul in the side, seeking more to try and bleed her, rather than strike out in brute strength - echoes of her tactics as a Holy Knight.
But there's a flicker at her eyes again, even as her body strains to battle against her former allies. "Help me," she rasps, trembling as she tries to halt her sword arm. It's as though the cursed runeblade moves of its own accord, as though it were dragging her arm along unwillingly. "He-he is too strong-Parker, I-I'm so sorry, I could not stay my hand. It-it was not my own-" For a moment, she looks so miserable that she might cry, if her body weren't cursed with the Plague of Undeath. "Mel, I-I am afraid-"
...It has to be awful, if she even admits that.
Her expression flickers and seems to change, snarling, as though she were battling with herself. Her voice is a little strangled. "I-I will try to fight him. Please," she pleads, sounding strangled, "get away. I-I don't want to fight with you-"
And the runeblade whips around again, whisked upright. "Ye shall be as the Scourge," she states coldly to Meliadoul, eyes that unearthly cyan once more. "Fine additions, though it shall be necessary to break thy will."
And, righting the runeblade, she takes another powerful swing at Meliadoul, seeking to cleave the knight of green in two. It's a powerful blow, entirely unlike her normal fighting style. It would seem the Lich King has won again, though there's a faint dichotomy between her swings and the fluidity of her movements. She's still fighting.
She is struggling; that much is obvious. Frozen doesn't have to think hard to realize this is what they came to him for. Their friend is tormented by a dark puppetmaster, and Simon Parker was present-with eyes-when he came to Mercade about his own problem...
He wants to scream at them in a way, but later. They did come to him for help; in a way, it's touching, and now this knight is being hurt more or less on his behalf. "I'll see what I can do," he whispers to the knight and the demon, before turning to the Lich King's servant.
"Your Lich King holds no power here. This is Creation," he hisses, "and if he's made friends with the Prince to take me back, he'll find no more success with you than anyone else!" Energy flickers around him, dark Essence, as he holds out his hand; it twists into a Wood Dragon's Claw, sharp and gnarled, as he leaps forward into the fray. He slashes forward, downwards at the Lich's Deathknight, showing far more grace and agility than one might expect from such a scrawny nerd.
"I'll do you a mercy and kick your ass. We'll take this outside, out of this building!"
"Tch!" The force of the earlier attack was jarring and her arms are still recovering from the blow, which leaves Meliadoul's side open as the ferocity of Rimehowl's attack clangs hard against her breastplate and skitters downward, finding purchase in boiled leather. But even the thick hide is not enough protection from the icy destructive bite of the runeblade. There is a small spurt of blood and the knight winces at both the pain and the cold.
There is no time for her to stop though, not when she hears Agrias's pained speech. Eyes flash wide, "Fight it Agrias." She hisses, "Just a little longer. We will save you." And the moment of respite is gone. Simon explodes a table nearby and Frozen Heart flies forward. The templar backpedals, her sword flashing once again and it diverts the path of Rimehowl. The blessed blade screeches in protest but instead of being cleaved in two, the Templar finds herself with another open, bleeding wound from her upper arm.
The knight falls to the knees just as Frozen continues his assault. "Take her out of here ser!" She shouts and looks to Simon, "Parker! Parker! Are you alright?!"
Simon's stroke goes wide, missing Agrias by a good foot or so. The Judge's blade cuts a howling swath through the air before embedding itself in a support beam. Parker snarls, tugs on it, and yanks it free. Once again he stays his hand just long enough for Agrias-the true Agrias-to speak... though it's clear that his patience isn't going to hold out for much longer. "You're not the first we've had to rescue; we didn't give up on Kobayashi, and we're not going to give up on you!" Simon remembers the Zondar, then, and wonders how hellish the experience would've been if he'd been conscious for it.
He shudders violently, even as he lunges at Agrias. "Good enough!" the demon cries. Essence boils in his veins as he reaches out to grab Agrias by the gorget, lift her off the ground, and then throw her out the door into the snow. The hellfire glow in his eyes grows brighter.
She struggles with every spare scrap of strength she can find. The Lich King is overwhelmingly powerful, though, and she can't throw his control completely. It seems she can only free herself long enough to speak, or to make feeble attempts at staying her sword arm. Arthas wants the death of this youth too much.
Only those points between swings seem to offer her any respite from the Lich King's frozen talons; brief glimpses of that sickly yellow colour in her eyes, rather than the soulless flare of the Scourge-light. Still, she seems to be doing everything she can to fight it off; summoning up the inner reserves to resist his crushing influence.
That would explain why it fades in and out. She's been trying to fight this thing for weeks with no strength, and now, she tries to push it back with failing reserves. She has to. The last thing she wants to do is hurt these people any more than she already has.
"I am trying," she rasps, trembling as she lifts Rimehowl for another blow. Her frightened words are at odds with her actions, her eyes wide and terrified, like an untrained chocobo being asked to ride into battle while its head is forced. "He is-he is powerful, so powerful... and I-I am so tired..."
She can't hold the blade back, though, and it slams down, cutting awry from its original blow. A jerk against the hilt spares the table it was about to crash into, and before she can do any more damage, Frozen Heart's claw of wood comes down, seeking a joint in the armour and biting deep. She doesn't have time to react to that - Simon seizes her by the throat and simply casts her outside like a piece of driftwood.
Taken off her guard by such a manoeuvre, the Death Knight is sent crashing into the road with a clatter of black armour. She coughs, rolling over to pick herself up. Rimehowl is brought up, carefully, and for a moment, she doesn't move; simply stands there, half-crouched and trembling.
"I-I know," she answers Simon, voice faltering. "But-but please hurry... y-you don't know what a hell this is, ser... this..."
And like a torch being snuffed, the Lich King reestablishes control, clamping down on the free will of his newest pawn.
She straightens, cyan eyes narrowing in disdain, seemingly ignoring the blood seeping from where Frozen Heart's claw had pierced her thigh. "Rabble," she scoffs, advancing and raising up the runeblade. "I will deliver all of thee to Northrend personally. Ye have cost me time and effort." She advances, ignoring the two IPA defenders and heading instead straight for Frozen Heart.
The will of the Lich King is frightening in its power. He is your target. Ignore the rabble, but I do not do this out of any favour to you. Agrias halts mid-stride, trembling, but inexorably advances forward again. Such stubbornness. Must I break you the old way? Arthas inquires sharply, a blast of howling, unseasonably icy wind whipping through the street. Fulfill your duty to the One True King, and I may yet spare something of what you were. Such stubbornness may be useful to the Scourge. You are cunning, that I will grant. I would hate to waste that. I do not believe in waste.
She swings the blade, runes flaring down its surface as she does. An unholy green light suffuses the blade; and the aura of the Plague will be a familiar one to Simon. It's aimed straight for Frozen Heart - but will the Plague do anything to the former Deathknight?
"He's strong," Frozen marvels to himself as he watches Simon toss Agrias out, shuddering faintly at the hellfire in the eyes. The boy runs out afterwards; after all, he's her target. And that's when the sword and its hellfire strike him; he grits his teeth, sliced and scorched in the chest. It seems less effective against one who is so heavily aligned with the darkness itself; he breathes slowly, still, as a blade is a blade. "And that is...that is..."
"FINE! If I'm to flee this village too, that's fine. Soon this will all be over. Soon I'll never have to run like this again...!" He holds his hands up and softly chants a spell, visible Essence swirling around his body. The observant will note a bruise forming on his forehead, looking like a half-filled black circle. "Listen you, Lady Knight, trapped within your own body and soul! It is not enough to resist! You must stop fearing that you face. You must stop cowering from your master! And the rest of you; some kind of holy artifact might be able to hold her still. A circle of salt will protect from the undead. But if you want to purify her soul, it'll take more than mere tricks or begging. Look to a higher power! Look to the shining light of the sun...!"
As he invokes the name of the cursed Unconquered Sun, the land around him seems to twist as Resonance leaks out; it rumbles and splits in spots, dark smoke venting from beneath the snow. At the same time, Frozen's own Essence bursts into flames, forming into a firebird that soars towards the wayward knight.
"I am almost free, and I won't be taken back by the likes of you...!"
"There is a lot to Parker that you would be surprised to learn ser," Meliadoul says dryly to Nigele as she raises to her feet, following in the wake of her comrades as they tossed Agrias out like some drunkard who's had two or three drinks too many during an open bar night.
She runs outwards, determination on her face only to listen to Frozen Heart's lecture and his suggestions. "A holy artifact?" She blinks. Does Ivalice have anything that are considered holy artifacts? There are the stones but they bring too much treachery. She looks down at her own sword. It was blessed by God. But if it could truly hold Oaks down, they would not be out in this god forsaken place.
But then the other Death Knight points to the sky and she stumbles backwards. Just what in God's name did they interrupt here?! But now is not the time to be uncertain! "For God Almighty!" She roars as she launches herself forward in the wake of the firebird, Save the Queen a flash of silver as it streaks across the sky.
Snarling, Parker tosses the Judge aside. Mere swordplay isn't going to satisfy him, now; he's going to have to take her down in a more brutal fashion. Frozen will be able to sense a 'spell' not unlike his own Wood Dragon's Claw-Simon's hands warp and twist, becoming reptile-like. Each finger bears a long, knife-like claw.
Then Frozen suggests... that. Simon is thrown off his game; he wheels on the necromancer as the Firebird launches, sputtering indignantly. "B...but that would kill her!" the demon says. "Don't think that they'd-or any other power-would attempt to..." Then he realizes who he's talking to, and bites his tongue. He lunges at the horrible necrotic blur that is Agrias Oaks, claws-first. From there, it's all rip-and-tear; Simon doesn't give a damn whether he's shredding armor or flesh, but the strength behind the attack is terrifying, borne of equal parts terror and determination.
The Death Knight's eyes narrow in satisfaction as Rimehowl clips through the gangly youth. Hard to imagine he was ever a warrior of the Silver Prince, and hard to imagine why the Silver Prince would so vehemenly want this one killed... but, she's beginning to understand some of these death lords' motives, in a twisted sort of way.
Like children that refuse to share, they so hate to lose what they consider theirs.
But she doesn't strike again, temporarily pinned again by her own internal struggle against the Lich King. Her head twists to one side, eyes screwed shut, as though resisting something unseen touching her face.
"No," she finally spits, as though it takes great effort to open her mouth to speak. "No! I will not-"
Rimehowl sags in her grip, but she doesn't drop the blade, unable to open her hand to let go of it.
"I cannot!" she chokes out, to Frozen, plunging the point of Rimehowl into the earth. She glances up, shoulders hitching as she tries to control herself. Arthas exerts his will, but she can resist for a few seconds at a time, it seems. "He-he makes a Lucavi seem as a mere child!"
And suddenly, there's a firebird winging its way towards her. It doesn't look like this is going to be very pleasant. But then, the Lich King manages to knock the fight out of her, overtaking her again. As before, she straightens, undaunted.
"I tire of these games. Come, ye," she states coldly, wrenching Rimehowl from the earth. A flick of the tip, and she brings it up to try and carve the Essence-firebird, shouldering into the crackling burn of the fire. Meliadoul she doesn't try to avoid, too weighed down by the plate armour to even attempt dodging. She lets Save the Queen bite deep into her side, walking into the blow and attempting to give Rimehowl a solid swing; meant to bat the enraged Balseraph from her.
Yes, that means she lets him strike her, too; claws rending into flesh and plate alike, though not too deeply. Enough to make their presence known. "Away, pest," she snaps, seeking to smash a plated elbow into his face. Her other hand she brings up, splaying fingers and seeking to swipe those talon-claws towards Meliadoul's face. Apparently the Lich King has no compunctions about giving her the same treatment she gave to Simon.
"Kill or be killed," she intones coldly, carrying more of that fel power in her voice. The Lich King speaks, through her. "By the will of the Scourge do I slay them all. None shall stand against the Scourge! Life itself is but a fleeting and fragile thing, and pales in the face of such immortality!"
The firebird explodes upon contact, before dissipating back into Essence. "It might not kill her. If you set it up alright, if the ritual's correct, and if her apparently very strong resistance combines with it and with yours...she's obviously struggling with all she can," Frozen insists. "But she'll need more from the outside-ugh." He runs forward, then, beginning to conjure once more.
"Listen you, Lich King, and your servant. Your kind, all of them, you'll fall sometime-I'll see to it in the thousands of years I have remaining. In the meantime, I won't let you enslave another innocent for your little puppetmaster games! Simon, um, Meliadoul, is it? Careful, I'm about to do something a little messy." He could invoke one of his powerful Necromancy spells, but it'd be a silly move; it's clear that won't work so well against her. But his other spells...
His Essence freezes around him this time, razor-sharp chunks of ice hovering around him and them swarming onto the Lich King's knight, driving themselves into her armor and skin. He's confident this won't kill her; she's no ordinary mortal. "STING OF THE ICE HORNET!...listen, holy artifacts don't always kill the dead. Nor do spells. There's a class of spell-sometimes called Turn Undead in the languages of some planes. If you could alter that spell and find a medium to cast it..."
This is a little take off of what he's planning, highly simplified. "Or perhaps target the Lich King himself, and find how he's controlling her. Break the chains from there...!"
As he holds out his hands, the Ice Hornets continue their assault before shattering back into the snow.
For the second time in as many weeks, Simon Parker's nose breaks with an ugly crunch. Blood stains Agrias' gauntlet, and drips down the Balseraph's face as he reels backwards, nearly tripping over himself in a literal blind retreat. "You really think that will work?" Parker wants to trust Frozen wholly, but some part of him still... still doubts. Demons don't survive redemption with their faculties intact, why should mortals?
"Please. She's my Captain. She's one of the few mortals I respect, please tell me you're telling the truth." Because he has no way to tell for himself.
She seems bent on rampaging her way through the rest of these defenders, given wholly over to Arthas' control. Agrias has no strength left to spend on resistance, having sacrificed what little she had. Her willpower may be strong and her stubbornness a thing of legend, at times, but even she can only hold for so long against a being like the Lich King.
"We will not fall. We command a force mightier even than the reaches of time," Agrias intones, withdrawing the bloodstained plate of her elbow from Simon's ruined face. She would be gibbering apologies if she were in full control of herself, but unfortunately, it seems that Arthas has taken over. "All things that live will die. If time does not see to it, than the Scourge itself shall. And those that the Scourge claims will remain ever more in my service."
Agrias pauses, though, neither speaking nor moving any further for a moment. She clamps her jaw down, a leg trembling as she tries to stop herself from advancing forward.
It's exhausting. Even with a body made immortal by the ravages of the Scourge, it still drains her. Fatigue gnaws at her as surely as the unliving plague that no doubt courses through her veins.
"Just-just break him," she pleads, eyes back to that sickly yellow. "I cannot do it myself. It is as-as digging a tunnel in solid stone-" She trails off into a pained grunt, nearly doubling over with the effort of staving off Arthas' overwhelming influence. "Solid s-stone with naught but a dagger. Please-please, just help me. I suffer, c-can you not see that? Help me-"
Despite the command, she sounds more afraid than imperious, disgusted by the blood she's forced to stain her hands with. Slowly, though, her control ebbs away. The Lich King reigns once again, and she straightens, rounding on Frozen.
"Thou art the one that I was sent to slay, and before I leave this place tonight, Rimehowl shall drink thy blood." There's a finality to her tone as she advances, splaying taloned fingers as she reaches forward, towards the ground underfoot. Death and decay spread rampantly from the central point near Frozen's feet, what few weeds there are between cobbles withering and dying. He may feel a bit sickly - but given his nature, it's likely not going to be much more than a vague annoyance, at best.
It's meant to slow him down. That's so she can distract him and leap in with her real attack; a savage, over-handed strike with the runeblade. Whether it strikes true, of course, is all up to how quickly the renegade Deathknight can react...
"Ugh..." Frozen feels the veins of dead roots wrapping around his feet, and stumbles; it really doesn't feel as awful as it should, but he always was a little clumsy to begin with, so it's quite irritating. He softens, though, when he hears Simon's impassioned plea. "...Listen, I'm not lying. But I don't know everything; all I can do is suggest theories. I understand how much you want to save her. Please just look into these options, until something arises. I can only provide leads right now; I...I can't do much else. A shadow looms over me as well, growing closer...though I guess that makes it obvious, doesn't it?"
He raises one foot, scowling, and then sighs as he forms more arrows in his hand. These are tinged with stinging cold; when he launches them, they seem to fly towards Agrias of their own power. "And as for your threats of death and decay, rot and the eternal inevitability of death, Lich King's Chosen...my gosh, all we Deathknights are the same, aren't we? I used to talk about that all the time. But the thing is, souls are reborn and souls are eternal. And whether you like it or not, the light that burns in that woman's soul is still stronger than all the shadows of death...!"
He pauses. "You...both really don't have to protect me like this; I mean, if you knew what I was, you'd probably just let her kill me..."
Simon swallows, hard. It's going to take a real leap of faith to trust Frozen Heart, knowing full well what he is and whom he might be in league with. "Good," the demon says, hollowly, "Because if she dies, and it's not by my hand, all the furies of Hell will be upon you." Eyeless or not, the look Simon shoots Frozen says it all.
He does remember that Frozen 'kidnapped' his apprentice, knowingly or not.
"I suppose," Parker chokes out. As Agrias lands, he lunges for her once more. Frozen's height and relative non-squickiness are the only things that keep him from being attacked. Once again, the Balseraph lays into the Death Knight with his claws, heedless of whatever injuries he might suffer in the process.
Agrias may threaten her former allies, but her voice does not sound as her own. There's a presence to them far more oppressive than her own, and she moves and fights in ways that just aren't her innate style. For whatever reasons, the Lich King wants this one. He wants to break her will, her spirit; to corrupt her into a tool of the Scourge, fully.
"Thy words are hollow gestures, at best." She shakes her head, stark-white bangs falling free at the motion. She doesn't bother to brush them away. "Have you every counter you can imagine to the diseases of the Scourge? The corruption? The might of a hundred thousand warriors risen from their graves to do the bidding of the One True King, who fight not knowing fear of death, who are not slowed by wounds; who are not stayed by mercy?"
She takes another few steps forward, tightening her grip on the hilt of Rimehowl. The frost-pointed arrows thud into her pauldron, breastplate, and one of them even punches through her throat; but she doesn't seem to notice, reaching up to snap the haft on each side of her neck in one quick, clean motion. There doesn't even seem to be any blood.
She brings up the cursed greatsword, twisting to try and slam the blunt pommel as Simon approaches her. "Decay and rot are some of the mightiest of forces in this world and the next." Her original path had been towards Frozen Heart, but she stops to address the Balseraph wildly clawing at her armour and flesh.
There's a note of disdain to her tone of voice, and what might even be annoyance.
Deal with these pests, my Knight. Kill them all if you must. You waste too much time with this rabble.
They are my allies and my friends, she protests hotly, stopping in her tracks, more concerned with her internal dialogue than the Balseraph already shredding apart some of her armour. She doesn't move to try and block him, and her eyes seem more towards that corpse-yellow again. I cannot attack them, and I will not be your puppet! I am a Holy Knight of the Lesalian St. Konoe Order-
An order that betrayed you, the Lich King observes. Were they not prepared to hand you over to your hated Church? Come, do not lie to yourself so. You are stubborn, but you are without a doubt a cunning fighter. The Scourge has much need of those with such a mind. Leave them behind.
"I will not," she snarls out loud, bracing an arm against the irresistable urge to raise it and strike out; holding her arm at some half-point, shaking with the effort. "Find another pawn. I-I will not suffer this-any-"
And with another burst of commanding influence, Arthas overtakes her meager defenses, forcing her to lash out and attempt to bat Simon away from her; taloned fingers closed into a fist of steel meant to try and bash into the side of his head. "Leave me," she states in the strange, deep tone of the Death Knight. "Thy petty attacks are useless. Think ye to best one of the Lich King's own champions?" She laughs, but the sound is cruel, and not at all like her. "It will not happen."
"We may not know who you are ser, but you have provided us with the means that which may have granted us her salvation." Meliadoul stands straight and she glares at Simon, "And if it is to be her blood on anyone's hands, it will be mine. I will not suffer the likes of you to end her life Parker." Because she knows he's trying damn hard to deny demonic side of him, or so she thinks. Either way, her hands are already stained with the blood of patricide. What's a friend to go with it?
She has not been sitting idle this entire time though. Not while Nigele and Simon are fighting for different reasons. One for his life and the other to save someone dear to him. She must help them in anyway she can. She heard once, a long time ago, that curative spells work wonders on the undead kind and she wonders if they will work on the Scourage inflected Agrias. Only on way to find out.
She pulls from her pocket a father, red as the sun with tinges of gold and orange. She whispers a prayer to the heavens and lifts the feather with one hand. "You are not his Champion Agrias Oaks." She snarls quietly, "You are no one's champion. Not anymore. Not in a long time." She throws the feather, but it's light weight will only carry it so far, which is why she lifts Save the Queen, a blade forged by the hands of man and blessed by the tears of God.
"BEGONE FROM HER! THE LORD ALMIGHTY COMMANDS IT!" She throws her sword, the sharp point impaling the feather upon it's tip, seeking to drive it into Agrias. Somewhere, somehow. She hopes it finds purchase.
"D-don't blame this on me," Frozen seems to stammer. "I'm sorry I can't provide more help, but-" He doesn't want to say 'this is your problem.' He can't say what he's working so desperately on. "But...well, It's the least I can do, madam..."
And then, though Meliadoul's trick earns a blink, the magician turns to face Agrias herself. "As for you. Knight trapped in darkness, you have people who care about you; they'll suffer and walk through hellfire itself for your sake, from the looks of it. When the time comes, when they must suffer to save you, hold out your hand. Speaking from-experience, you probably can't fight the Lich King alone..."
And then he points, and the symbol breaks through his forehead, bleeding black. It might be suicide to show his anima banner, but the damage is already done; he won't be able to return to this village. The Bull of the North will not tolerate Abyssals here. Behind him, an aura of absolute violet-blackness, and the projection of darkened, blood-dripping ice crystals. "I'm tired of running. Go back to your master who commands you, who makes dealings with the Prince, and tell him this. My fleeing is almost at an end. I will free the light trapped within, and reclaim what was mine as a Lawgiver! I will look back at the Silver Prince in defiance, against all the forces of death, and do what he fears most! You're quite fearsome, my lady, but I have no desire to leave here. GO!"
As he speaks, he strikes the ground with one hand; Resonance thunders through it, causing a faint earthquake. The area around suddenly seems to grow unearthly cold and still; the wind itself has stopped.
"Uh," Frozen adds quietly to the others, "keep this all on the down-low, okay? It's kind of risky."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Meliadoul responds back just as quietly. "As far as I know, there was a minor earthquake."
Agrias' fist slams into the side of Simon's head, knocking him for a loop. The world skews sickeningly, Essence-signatures merging into one twisted blur. The Balseraph wobbles and falls, hands turning back into claws as he hits the ground. Blood steams in the snow.
"Yes, Tengille," Simon slurs, "He's one of them, too. Renegade." The demon picks himself up, feels the snow crunching beneath his fingers. As Frozen Heart's resonance flares, he turns to the larger, darker of the two spots of Corruption. "He's right, you know. You're nothing before the Light." And then the Balseraph's fingers are a blur, as he works out some arcane gestures-a tracery of light forms in the air before condensing into a single beam, which lances out at the former Holy Knight.
The Death Knight stands firm against the onslaught from her friends, cyan eyes narrowing towards the Knight Templar. Just what is she planning? What's she got up her sleeve?
You call these friends? Allies? Listen to them, the Lich King intones. They bicker like vultures over which has the privelege of gutting you like a fish, my Knight. Would you, in your pride, suffer such a fate?
They do not mean it, Agrias insists angrily. They would not harm me. And you will not control me any longer! Leave me, before-
Before what? If anything, the Lich King seems amused by this, a flicker of cold mirth touching the corners of her mind. Before you dare raise a hand against me? Look at you, pathetic knight. You cannot even stay your own blade.
Indeed, as Agrias watches, her sword is raised for another strike-
-at about the same time Meliadoul flings Save the Queen, the hallowed blade and its burden of featherdown headed straight for her. The blade punches through her shoulder, and she manages a strange, strangled sound at the impact. Why, that hurts, even to her deadened state; and quite a lot. It burns, even, and it's a steady, persistent burn that doesn't seem to be fading away. Her head twists to regard the wound, and her expression darkens. Just when she seems about to condemn the Knight Templar, though, Agrias manages to regain control of herself again, slumping to one knee.
"That is not me," she hisses, almost ready to cry in frustration. It's like she can see a way out of this, can reach for it, but can't touch it. This must be how fish feel when they're trapped under the ice, she thinks; forever able to see the surface, but never quite able to get there. "I am not his. I am a champion. Her Majesty's champion. None other!"
She wraps her hands around the hilt of Save the Queen, ripping the sword out with a strangled cry and throwing it back towards Meliadoul - not point-first, but rather the motions of the trapped Holy Knight; returning her friend's weapon. "I am not yours!" she snarls, to the winter-chilled air.
No longer, the Lich King intones, his laugh like the rumble of a sliding glacier. That pathetic girl is as nothing, now. You belong to me. Your will is not your own.
She trembles with the effort of holding her position, to keep herself from attacking her friends. It takes every spare ounce of willpower she has not to rise up and attack them, to defy the will of the Lich King with her own.
Finally, she sinks to one knee, covering the wound with a clawed hand, eyeing it with some disdain. Her eyes are cyan once again when she straightens, frowning. "I shall see thy payment for this in blood," she snaps, whirling the runeblade overhead. Her motions seem a little laggard in that arm, though, where the hallowed sword had punched into her shoulder. Yet she doesn't strike, instead concentrating for a moment. The ground seems to sunder underfoot of where the Knight Templar stands, tiny weeds withering and dying, and the raw, choking power of corruption surrounding the very air that Meliadoul breathes.
It's not a very pleasant sensation.
"Death and decay," she states coldly, hand twisting as she commands the very earth itself to wither. "Two of the most powerful forces in this world and the next. With these the Scourge shall advance, and they will not be stopped by such petty shows of loyalty." The word is spat as though a curse.
...That's about when she notices that Frozen Heart is voicing his defiance and sundering the earth underfoot. Well, that's not good. That's also about when she notices the Balseraph's lance of holy light, mostly by courtesy of the lance slamming into her side. She stumbles with a pained grunt, clutching at the point of impact.
...Yeah, that hurt, too.
"Go..." There's a visible struggle for a moment, and Agrias seems to crumple, casting a sidelong glance towards her allies and friends. "I can fight him long enough for you to escape, but no longer! Please, take Frozen Heart and go! I'll not fight with this pointless battle any longer than I must!" She hisses, spine arching as though she were in pain, eyes screwed shut. "Find a way to free me from this monster, but come another day! I cannot fight him alone...!"
Well. You heard the lady! But right now Meliadoul is kind of choking on the corruption surrounding her and even if she weren't, she'd pick up the sword and try to continue fighting. The templar falls to her knees, gauntleted hands clutching at her throat as she gags and heaves, attempting, no clawing for clean air.
She struggles then, to her feet, rising and reaches forward, taking Save the Queen back. She staggers, grabbing Simon by the hand. "Ser! To my mount! He can bear all three of us!" Don't worry. She'll leave you at a safe place Nigele. But it's going to be a tight fit.
"...Right..." There's something a little distant about Frozen's tone, distant and tired. He meant what he said; he's tired of running away, forced to flee from town to town with no real home. But it's almost over. He mustn't blame that other Deathknight, either; she's probably far more of a victim than he was, he who went willingly to the side of the Silver Prince to escape death itself. When he sees Meliadoul choke, he quickly reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bag of dried herbs; if nothing else, the strong scent will protect her.
As he climbs aboard the chocobo, he throws salt behind them as well; it feels treasonous, but by the laws of Creation, it may ward the undead from them for some time...
Where: Fantasy Sector - The Lap
When: 09 September 2008
What: Arthas Menethil strikes a deal with the Deathlords of Creation, and they have a small matter for their newfound death knight, Agrias Oaks, to take care of...
Watch For: Do not mess with the happy fun Team IPA.
Fantasy Sector - The Lap
The Lap is emblematic of Creation only because of its strangeness. Some time in the First Age, an entire mountain in the South was sculpted into a great statue of a monk, sitting with his legs crossed as he meditated. Despite millennia of weathering and damage, the mountain - often called the Old Man - still stands. The Lap is named because of where it sits: inside the monk's lap.
The city itself consists of adobe buildings, which tower above the lands around it. They fill the Lap and the pathways leading downward. There is but one path, leading down the legs of the Old Man, which is readily defensible. This makes the Lap one of the best fortified cities in the world. To make matters worse, the surrounding lands consist of field after field of grains and other food. It provides it with a surplus of food that can last years. Laplanders often export their food throughout the South of Creation.
Contents:
Agrias Oaks
Frozen Heart
Meliadoul Tengille
Simon Parker
The Southwest
Obvious exits:
orth leads to Fantasy Sector - The Imperial Mountain.
own the hill leads to Fantasy Sector.
Frozen is not watching his Manse being built over in the icy mountains. It'd be too dangerous, too likely to draw attention from the wrong parties. He doesn't want to endanger his chances or the dwarves who are helping him, not when he's so close. Not when his goal is in sight.
Instead, he is here in this village, where he told a select few he'd be; a trading town in the snowy plains of the North, where he remains at the tavern of a local inn, poring over notes and books. It's almost complete, the spell. He had to make adjustments, to help design the device that would cast the spell, to go over every single detail. Everything has been perfect.
To others, he simply appears to be a pale young man in a ragged cloak, with his white hair tied back in a scarf. To someone with spiritual sense, he's a bloody torch of dark power.
When Simon radioed her with some hairbrained scheme he had to rescue Agrias, Meliadoul was (understandably) skeptical. However, considering the state that the Demon's vessel is in, she could find no reason to say no. So she hopped out, saddled up Biggs and picked up Simon.
The fearless chocobo bears both riders with little complaint, though the handful of Greens it got as a treat earlier may have helped. She is dressed for the weather, her standard armor and mail over padded leather and a thick heavy fur lined cloak wrapped about her shoulders, the hood raised and pull low over her head.
When the approach the village, the knight sighs. "I hope you know what you're doing Parker," she mutters as she dismounts first and then helps the Demon off as well. "This damn cold here and I don't like the way the natives are eyeing our ride."
Simon Parker dressed for the cold. He's wearing a long winter coat over his suit and jacket, and heavy boots in place of shoes. He blows into his gloved hands after Meliadoul helps him off-he can feel the biting cold, even here. "My contact told me he was staying in this inn," Parker says. He reaches out to grab Meliadoul's shoulder, and steady himself. "He's headquartered in this area. He's an expert on curses of undeath."
Which might beg the question of what, precisely, he is, but Parker doesn't linger on the subject too long. Dead eyes focus on the tavern-he can sense the forms of people through the wood... including one particularly vile spot of necrotic Essence. Just looking at it reminds Simon of Rimehowl, but he steels himself, swallowing hard. "That's him. He's in the tavern. Let's go."
Far afield from the inn, a single soldier marches across the land, mounted on another of the chocobos that bear the two agents towards the inn. But this is a bird of a far different feather. Alkoun and his master bring howling winter wind where they go, and in a land so closely tied with the energy of the spirit world, they reek of wrongness.
They pass on roads little-travelled, less out of fear and more out of convenience. These by-roads lead them straight for their quarry. The Silver Prince had communicated his desire to stamp out a certain Deathknight, and in turn, the Lich King of Azeroth had demonstrated that he had just the Death Knight to take care of this little problem. This killed two birds with one stone, too - it made an excellent opportunity for Arthas to force a little discipline into the newest, most recalcitrant member of his Death Knights.
Funny how things worked out that way.
The Death Knight doesn't seem to be in any hurry, and stories of her passing follow her; occasionally, rumour even rides ahead of her position a short ways. She moves leisurely, with no need to stop for eating, sleeping, or drinking. Those concerns are far beyond her, in her current state. She has time only for the hunt.
Both knight and chocobo wear solid black plate armour, the gauntlets fashioned into talons; the rest of it suitably angular and hard-edged. The knight wears no helm - her hair is stark white, pulled back into a herringbone braid. Her eyes are perhaps the most chilling feature; the brilliant cyan fire of the Scourge, with no trace of humanity behind them.
They blaze with their own chill light, but there's no mistaking the fact that they're dead.
She doesn't quite approach the square where the inn rests, but word is already beginning to travel down the street in hushed whispers; describing the terrifying woman, who carries an aura of fear, death, and ice.
Indeed... where the Alkoun steps, talon-prints of ice are left in his wake.
Rumors of the approaching dark figure don't quite reach Frozen Heart yet; he's still quite visible to Simon as that beacon of dark energy. To Meliadoul, he's just some bespectacled boy buried in books at a table. Books, and a half-eaten cinnamon-scented dessert; he takes a spoonful of it now and then as he mulls over his writings. He certainly doesn't look like an expert of the undead; then again, those are some pretty hefty texts.
Like others, he does look up when, as the villagers put it, a 'great chicken' arrives with two visitors, one a blind man. He can't quite recognize Simon yet, but it does bring his attention; in fact, any news of visitors tends to do that, and he suddenly tries to look a whole lot less conspicuous.
But he's not giving up his dessert yet.
The 'great chicken' warks a bit as Meliadoul feeds him another handful gysahl greens and pets him. Hopefully the harness and some of the barding upon the great bird will prevent the residents from attempting to kidnap it. She takes a look about the sleepy town, completely unaware that Agrias Oaks is not far behind. Would she be here if she knew though?
She looks to Simon as he confirms the presence of the one he's looking for. "Very well." She offers her hand to Simon (if he didn't bring something like a guiding stick) and uses the other to open the door. Stepping in, she sweeps her eyes over the inn and tries to spot their 'prey'. Her eyes fall on Frozen Heart. He is an unfamiliar face, but all those books and that scholarly (nerdy) demeanor certainly puts him out of place with everyone else.
She leans towards Simon and lifts his hand, using it to gesture in Nigele's direction. "Is that him?"
The demon takes Meliadoul's hand and follows the knight into the tavern, walking slightly slower to make sure he doesn't trip over irregularities in the floor. "There." Simon points directly at Nigele, confirming Meliadoul's suspicions. He fixes blind, glowing sockets on the Deathknight, and tries his best to look innocent. "Peleps Nigele?" the demon murmurs, as he takes an uneasy step closer.
"I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but my companions and I are in need of your services. It's very important." Then he leans in closer, trying not to gag on the necrotic Essence, and whispers to the boy: "Lera sent us."
People are already scattering, several blocks away from the inn.
The Death Knight does nothing to encourage their panic beyond her fearsome aura. This rabble doesn't involve her in the least, and killing them in the name of the Scourge would serve little purpose. The Silver Prince and the Lich King seek to slay a single target, and that she'll do. The others are beyond her interest.
It's a token resistance, but one that does give the shred left of Holy Knight some satisfaction. There will be no meaningless death, here. She would rather not kill at all, but she simply isn't strong enough to resist the ruler of the Frozen North.
...Were she strong enough for that, she never would have been in this situation in the first place.
Alkoun strides purposefully through the crowd, his heavy, black iron barding rattling with every step. Agrias maintains a firm grip on the reins, her eyes scanning the roads, until the lifeless cyan blaze of her eyes fall on the inn.
There. She isn't quite certain how she knows, but she knows. The sight of a chocobo does give her some pause - are those even native to this realm? - but she doesn't dwell on it.
She's already vaulting up from the saddle halfway along the street, heedless of the people beginning to break into a run away from her. Alkoun is left there to fend for himself, which he does admirably; snapping aggressive at the fleeing passers-by that draw too close.
Agrias doesn't pay the commotion any mind. Long, purposeful strides take her straight for the door of the inn, and she plants a talon-gauntleted hand flat on the door; pushing it open. The force of the blow causes the door to slam shut behind her.
The Death Knight's footfalls are loud in the sudden silence, slowing to a halt. It's about then that her eyes fall on the gathering of Meliadoul, Nigele, and Parker.
That is the one. The voice is silent to all but Agrias; but for a moment, that icy presence seems even more pronounced. Frost begins to spiderweb outward from the points where her boots touch the floor. The sallow youth in spectacles. Kill him, the Lich King commands. Do not return until it is done.
All throughout, Agrias stands with her head cocked slightly to one side, as though listening. And then, she bows her head, though something about it seems not quite accepting. "Yes, my Lord." Her voice is quiet; a rasp, deeper than it ought to be. Inhuman.
"The Frozen Heart Pierced by a Thousand Arrows," she commands, drawing herself up and pulling the runeblade down from her shoulder. If Nigele reeks of tainted Essence, than the presence of the runeblade is overpowering in its wrongness. "Thy death is sought, and shall be granted. Resisting shall only delay the inevitable." Rimehowl's runes flare a brilliant cyan as she raises the blade, pointing it straight at the former Deathknight. A dismissive glance is flicked towards the others.
Inside, the part of her still under her own control curses silently, despairing. She hadn't expected them to be there. She hadn't wanted to fight them, or to see in any more depth what she had done to Parker. It was painful enough to carry out that curse.
They may see that flicker; that momentary hesitation.
Agrias Oaks is still in there... somewhere.
And then, that flash of humanity is gone. Blank cyan eyes, suffused in their own fel light, turn back towards Nigele. "Hast thou any final words?"
As Meliadoul and Simon approach, Frozen looks up, blinking at the use of that name. Simon, at least is familiar-though the man's eyes give him quite a bit of concern. "I'm afraid I-"
Sent by Lera. He stands, quietly, and nods then, closing his books and quickly gathering them in his backpack-like satchel. "Very well, then," he adds in a quiet tone. "Let us take this somewhere quiet, and I can ask you about..."
The door is busted open, but immediately before that, he can feel the shudder of dark, twisted energy ahead of him. The fact that it doesn't feel painful or unpleasant to him is only proof of his own broken nature. But he would have known from the start that Agrias is some form of Deathknight or dark servant; she's doing very little to hide it. His red eyes widen and then narrow; he'd hoped this village would be safe. A cold glance is sent towards his other visitors. "Did she follow you here?!"
"And you." His tone is cold, even as the mortals start fleeing the inn. He's never met Agrias before; for all he knows, this is the genuine article. "You'd better not have brought a call to the Wyld Hunt down on our heads. If He's sent another tool after me, so be it, but you'll quickly learn not to be so overconfident!" His cloak flares around him as he unwraps his longbow, looking to the others.
"...By any chance, is this what you came to warn me about?!"
This individual is an acquittance of Lera's? How... odd. But Meliadoul has long since learned not to judge an individual by their looks. She nods a bit and reaches out to help Nigele in cleaning up when a chilly blast of air whips past her and she shivers. But it is the slamming of the door that catches her attention and she turns. Immediately her lips curl into an angry snarl. She reaches immediately for her sword and draws it, noting that her eyes have changed. They are no longer gold but blue, blue like Zack's Mako infused eyes, blue like Simon's currently glowing points of light that act as eyes.
"You gave in," She snarls angrily at Agrias. She had not thought to bring her shield, just her sword and so she changes her stance to hold it between two hands. "I do not know if she followed us Ser," she addresses to Nigele, not even bothering to look at him. "But if she did, I had no knowledge of her." Her moves to physically impose herself, to be a shield of metal, leather and flesh between the Death Knight in front and the Demon and Death Knight behind.
"Warn you ser?" She pauses just for a moment to give Simon a sharp look. "We had hoped you could help us with this problem." The templar gestures at Agrias and then spits in her general direction. "If you want the boy Oaks, you will have to defeat me first!"
"No," Parker hisses, as the taverngoers scatter in terror. "She's the one we've come here to save." There's a sudden flare of Essence, and a black-steel two-handed blade slides neatly out of the demon's right sleeve. He might be blind to any nonliving obstacles in the tavern, but he can see Agrias bright as day.
"Agreed," the Balseraph snarls. The Bloody-Handed Judge is brought up to guard Nigele, and Simon moves forwards to interpose himself between the Death Knight and the boy. "You will not have him. Haven't you done enough damage already? Aren't you satisfied?" Please say yes.
The Death Knight stands in silence, arm still as stone where she holds Rimehowl up. It forms a straight line with her arm, unbroken, as though the cursed blade were apart of her. She doesn't move even as Nigele makes his accusations. He doesn't particularly interest her, or the core of her that remains; she had never met Nigele.
But the accusations from her companions... to see such hate and anger in Meliadoul's eyes... that's almost too much.
Why do you hesitate? Strike them down while they are waiting. The Lich King's disapproval is like a physical weight. Crush them. Perhaps they might be of some use to the Scourge. Lowly sentries, perhaps.
I cannot fight them, she protests hotly. Have I not done enough already? I will not-
You can, and you shall.
But Agrias finds a small reserve of inner strength; a token bit of resistance left that the Lich King hasn't crushed quite yet. Rimehowl slams down to the floor of the inn, punching through the wooden flooring. She hunches over the blade, as though she were resisting a great weight over her shoulder - and the cyan at her eyes flickers, dying out for a moment. The colour behind them is a sickly corpse-yellow, but not the blue of the Scourge.
Her voice is choked when she speaks, and it sounds more like herself.
"Help me," she pleads, fearfully, gripping the cursed sword's hilt so tightly it creaks. "This is not me, this is the doing of the Lich-" She tenses, as though fighting something off. "No," she snarls abruptly, to no one in particular, as though arguing with a fourth, unseen party. "I will not-"
The cyan flickers, briefly, almost winning for a moment. She turns her eyes back towards her allies. "My time is short. Save me from this thing," she pleads, looking and sounding absolutely terrified. "I swear to you, this is not my own doing. I-I cannot resist his control, he is too strong; this-"
She startles as though physically struck; her entire body convulsing briefly. And in that brief moment, the Lich King seems to regain control; eyes flaring a soulless, featureless cyan once again.
She merely smirks as she straightens, as though the weight were gone from her shoulders. Rimehowl is effortlessly plucked from its wedge between two floorboards, held aloft for a moment. And then, she begins advancing towards Meliadoul and Nigele. "Now is the time for thy judgment. Yon runeblade shall not falter again. Offer ye your life in exchange for this whelp?" She laughs, the tone deep and... wrong. "So be it. I will slay all three of you."
"...The Lich King commands it."
Before she's even finished speaking, she's raised the blade, and true to its namesake, Rimehowl gives voice to a discordant, shrieking howl as it raises; the runes on its surface glaring in brilliant cyan, frost spiderwebbing down its surface and coating the blade. Heedless of the proximity, she advances on Meliadoul, giving arm to a hearty two-handed swing.
"For the Scourge...!"
The fearsome Frozen Heart Ensnared in a Thousand Arrows...
Now has a knight and a blind whatever-Simon-is trying to guard him. "You...you don't need to protect me!" He insists this in a clearer, more human tone than the haughty one he's taken before. "You really don't, this is sort of my problem, unless...oh, you know her..."
He takes a step back, and then jumps onto the table itself, looking down at the tormented Deathknight. He falls silent, starting to recognize not only that twisted unholy power, but that struggle. A well of familiar regret rises up in him, and for a moment, he is silent; he was prepared a few moments ago to kill this woman if he needed to. But now...
His own eyes shine a faint red, and Simon will detect dark Essence swirling around him. "You needn't listen to the words of that master! No one can truly command a great warrior! You-you yourself have to break the chains of whatever you're trying to escape from!" Even as he uses his cloak to shield himself from the strange power surrounding Agrias, he summons some of it himself, his hands opening and summoning forth dark-tinged Essence ice arrows; four he releases from his bow at the Knight in a razor-sharp flurry.
"Don't worry, I can defend myself! Please, run away if you need to...!"
Meliadoul can't hear the voice in Agrias's head, but she can certainly see the effects of it. The former Holy Knight slams Rimehowl into the ground and the templar nearly drops her own blade. "Agrias!" Is it a trap? She steadies her sword as she slides towards the knight, caution in every step. "Agrias, do not worry." Her voice is soft, meaning to calm and placate. "We will purge this darkness from you and strike the evil within."
She is closer now, close enough that she can see the sickly yellow of her eyes. Close enough that when Rimehowl is torn from the ground, it nearly cuts hairs from her head as she quickly back pedals. Her nostrils flare then, the gleaming blade of Save the Queen held aloft. "I offer no life to your Lich King. Do you hear me?!" She is shouting at Arthas now, "I refuse to give any life to you!"
The runesword howls and is met with great force as Meliadoul brings her own sword down. Silver and Black steel kiss, leaving sparks in their wake. The force of it is nearly enough to make the templar's knees buckle and IS enough to cause her arms to go numb for a moment. "No..." She growls towards Nigele, "I will not leave you nor will I leave her. Not to that monster of a man controlling her mind!"
"Bless it, Oaks!" Parker protests, as he feels more than sees the Lich King's hold on her slipping. "Shake it off, shake it off! I know you-" And then his heart sinks; Agrias is his pawn once more. "Bless it!" There's desperation in his voice, plain and clear. He feels the sudden surge of necrotic Essence from behind, and dives out of the way as Frozen Heart fires arrows at his once-Captain; Parker hits the ground in a heap, and then struggles to his feet.
Blind-fighting. Well, almost. Simon nearly knocks a laden table over in his rush to get to Agrias-the Judge's tip gouges out part of a floorboard as he drags the not-daiklave with him. What follows is an awkward swing if ever there was one, a blow meant to be delivered with a golf club, not a sword. Parker is definitely not used to fighting like this.
Rimehowl sings in discordant song as the runeblade is brought down in a cleaving, two-handed strike. Instead, it meets with the blessed edge of Save the Queen, spitting white-hot sparks as the two blades pass by, glancing off of one another.
If she had any sensation left, the impact of such a blow would have numbed Agrias' arms to the shoulders. As it is, the blow barely seems to slow her down. She takes a step forward, raising the runeblade and striking out again, this time in a sideways blow. It's as though she doesn't even hear the others and their words of encouragement; their striving to help the woman trapped in the Lich King's icy talons.
"I have no need of escaping the One True King." Her voice carries that renewed taint to it; that cold and rasping tone. She's not herself any more, and as though to reinforce that, a cruel smile flickers across her features. "Some use will be found for all of you. Of that I have no doubt. You, Knight Templar; you may yet be a worthy combatant, once ye have been shown the proper way. Thy prowess is noted, if misplaced."
Agrias flicks her blade, lashing out to try and catch Meliadoul in the side, seeking more to try and bleed her, rather than strike out in brute strength - echoes of her tactics as a Holy Knight.
But there's a flicker at her eyes again, even as her body strains to battle against her former allies. "Help me," she rasps, trembling as she tries to halt her sword arm. It's as though the cursed runeblade moves of its own accord, as though it were dragging her arm along unwillingly. "He-he is too strong-Parker, I-I'm so sorry, I could not stay my hand. It-it was not my own-" For a moment, she looks so miserable that she might cry, if her body weren't cursed with the Plague of Undeath. "Mel, I-I am afraid-"
...It has to be awful, if she even admits that.
Her expression flickers and seems to change, snarling, as though she were battling with herself. Her voice is a little strangled. "I-I will try to fight him. Please," she pleads, sounding strangled, "get away. I-I don't want to fight with you-"
And the runeblade whips around again, whisked upright. "Ye shall be as the Scourge," she states coldly to Meliadoul, eyes that unearthly cyan once more. "Fine additions, though it shall be necessary to break thy will."
And, righting the runeblade, she takes another powerful swing at Meliadoul, seeking to cleave the knight of green in two. It's a powerful blow, entirely unlike her normal fighting style. It would seem the Lich King has won again, though there's a faint dichotomy between her swings and the fluidity of her movements. She's still fighting.
She is struggling; that much is obvious. Frozen doesn't have to think hard to realize this is what they came to him for. Their friend is tormented by a dark puppetmaster, and Simon Parker was present-with eyes-when he came to Mercade about his own problem...
He wants to scream at them in a way, but later. They did come to him for help; in a way, it's touching, and now this knight is being hurt more or less on his behalf. "I'll see what I can do," he whispers to the knight and the demon, before turning to the Lich King's servant.
"Your Lich King holds no power here. This is Creation," he hisses, "and if he's made friends with the Prince to take me back, he'll find no more success with you than anyone else!" Energy flickers around him, dark Essence, as he holds out his hand; it twists into a Wood Dragon's Claw, sharp and gnarled, as he leaps forward into the fray. He slashes forward, downwards at the Lich's Deathknight, showing far more grace and agility than one might expect from such a scrawny nerd.
"I'll do you a mercy and kick your ass. We'll take this outside, out of this building!"
"Tch!" The force of the earlier attack was jarring and her arms are still recovering from the blow, which leaves Meliadoul's side open as the ferocity of Rimehowl's attack clangs hard against her breastplate and skitters downward, finding purchase in boiled leather. But even the thick hide is not enough protection from the icy destructive bite of the runeblade. There is a small spurt of blood and the knight winces at both the pain and the cold.
There is no time for her to stop though, not when she hears Agrias's pained speech. Eyes flash wide, "Fight it Agrias." She hisses, "Just a little longer. We will save you." And the moment of respite is gone. Simon explodes a table nearby and Frozen Heart flies forward. The templar backpedals, her sword flashing once again and it diverts the path of Rimehowl. The blessed blade screeches in protest but instead of being cleaved in two, the Templar finds herself with another open, bleeding wound from her upper arm.
The knight falls to the knees just as Frozen continues his assault. "Take her out of here ser!" She shouts and looks to Simon, "Parker! Parker! Are you alright?!"
Simon's stroke goes wide, missing Agrias by a good foot or so. The Judge's blade cuts a howling swath through the air before embedding itself in a support beam. Parker snarls, tugs on it, and yanks it free. Once again he stays his hand just long enough for Agrias-the true Agrias-to speak... though it's clear that his patience isn't going to hold out for much longer. "You're not the first we've had to rescue; we didn't give up on Kobayashi, and we're not going to give up on you!" Simon remembers the Zondar, then, and wonders how hellish the experience would've been if he'd been conscious for it.
He shudders violently, even as he lunges at Agrias. "Good enough!" the demon cries. Essence boils in his veins as he reaches out to grab Agrias by the gorget, lift her off the ground, and then throw her out the door into the snow. The hellfire glow in his eyes grows brighter.
She struggles with every spare scrap of strength she can find. The Lich King is overwhelmingly powerful, though, and she can't throw his control completely. It seems she can only free herself long enough to speak, or to make feeble attempts at staying her sword arm. Arthas wants the death of this youth too much.
Only those points between swings seem to offer her any respite from the Lich King's frozen talons; brief glimpses of that sickly yellow colour in her eyes, rather than the soulless flare of the Scourge-light. Still, she seems to be doing everything she can to fight it off; summoning up the inner reserves to resist his crushing influence.
That would explain why it fades in and out. She's been trying to fight this thing for weeks with no strength, and now, she tries to push it back with failing reserves. She has to. The last thing she wants to do is hurt these people any more than she already has.
"I am trying," she rasps, trembling as she lifts Rimehowl for another blow. Her frightened words are at odds with her actions, her eyes wide and terrified, like an untrained chocobo being asked to ride into battle while its head is forced. "He is-he is powerful, so powerful... and I-I am so tired..."
She can't hold the blade back, though, and it slams down, cutting awry from its original blow. A jerk against the hilt spares the table it was about to crash into, and before she can do any more damage, Frozen Heart's claw of wood comes down, seeking a joint in the armour and biting deep. She doesn't have time to react to that - Simon seizes her by the throat and simply casts her outside like a piece of driftwood.
Taken off her guard by such a manoeuvre, the Death Knight is sent crashing into the road with a clatter of black armour. She coughs, rolling over to pick herself up. Rimehowl is brought up, carefully, and for a moment, she doesn't move; simply stands there, half-crouched and trembling.
"I-I know," she answers Simon, voice faltering. "But-but please hurry... y-you don't know what a hell this is, ser... this..."
And like a torch being snuffed, the Lich King reestablishes control, clamping down on the free will of his newest pawn.
She straightens, cyan eyes narrowing in disdain, seemingly ignoring the blood seeping from where Frozen Heart's claw had pierced her thigh. "Rabble," she scoffs, advancing and raising up the runeblade. "I will deliver all of thee to Northrend personally. Ye have cost me time and effort." She advances, ignoring the two IPA defenders and heading instead straight for Frozen Heart.
The will of the Lich King is frightening in its power. He is your target. Ignore the rabble, but I do not do this out of any favour to you. Agrias halts mid-stride, trembling, but inexorably advances forward again. Such stubbornness. Must I break you the old way? Arthas inquires sharply, a blast of howling, unseasonably icy wind whipping through the street. Fulfill your duty to the One True King, and I may yet spare something of what you were. Such stubbornness may be useful to the Scourge. You are cunning, that I will grant. I would hate to waste that. I do not believe in waste.
She swings the blade, runes flaring down its surface as she does. An unholy green light suffuses the blade; and the aura of the Plague will be a familiar one to Simon. It's aimed straight for Frozen Heart - but will the Plague do anything to the former Deathknight?
"He's strong," Frozen marvels to himself as he watches Simon toss Agrias out, shuddering faintly at the hellfire in the eyes. The boy runs out afterwards; after all, he's her target. And that's when the sword and its hellfire strike him; he grits his teeth, sliced and scorched in the chest. It seems less effective against one who is so heavily aligned with the darkness itself; he breathes slowly, still, as a blade is a blade. "And that is...that is..."
"FINE! If I'm to flee this village too, that's fine. Soon this will all be over. Soon I'll never have to run like this again...!" He holds his hands up and softly chants a spell, visible Essence swirling around his body. The observant will note a bruise forming on his forehead, looking like a half-filled black circle. "Listen you, Lady Knight, trapped within your own body and soul! It is not enough to resist! You must stop fearing that you face. You must stop cowering from your master! And the rest of you; some kind of holy artifact might be able to hold her still. A circle of salt will protect from the undead. But if you want to purify her soul, it'll take more than mere tricks or begging. Look to a higher power! Look to the shining light of the sun...!"
As he invokes the name of the cursed Unconquered Sun, the land around him seems to twist as Resonance leaks out; it rumbles and splits in spots, dark smoke venting from beneath the snow. At the same time, Frozen's own Essence bursts into flames, forming into a firebird that soars towards the wayward knight.
"I am almost free, and I won't be taken back by the likes of you...!"
"There is a lot to Parker that you would be surprised to learn ser," Meliadoul says dryly to Nigele as she raises to her feet, following in the wake of her comrades as they tossed Agrias out like some drunkard who's had two or three drinks too many during an open bar night.
She runs outwards, determination on her face only to listen to Frozen Heart's lecture and his suggestions. "A holy artifact?" She blinks. Does Ivalice have anything that are considered holy artifacts? There are the stones but they bring too much treachery. She looks down at her own sword. It was blessed by God. But if it could truly hold Oaks down, they would not be out in this god forsaken place.
But then the other Death Knight points to the sky and she stumbles backwards. Just what in God's name did they interrupt here?! But now is not the time to be uncertain! "For God Almighty!" She roars as she launches herself forward in the wake of the firebird, Save the Queen a flash of silver as it streaks across the sky.
Snarling, Parker tosses the Judge aside. Mere swordplay isn't going to satisfy him, now; he's going to have to take her down in a more brutal fashion. Frozen will be able to sense a 'spell' not unlike his own Wood Dragon's Claw-Simon's hands warp and twist, becoming reptile-like. Each finger bears a long, knife-like claw.
Then Frozen suggests... that. Simon is thrown off his game; he wheels on the necromancer as the Firebird launches, sputtering indignantly. "B...but that would kill her!" the demon says. "Don't think that they'd-or any other power-would attempt to..." Then he realizes who he's talking to, and bites his tongue. He lunges at the horrible necrotic blur that is Agrias Oaks, claws-first. From there, it's all rip-and-tear; Simon doesn't give a damn whether he's shredding armor or flesh, but the strength behind the attack is terrifying, borne of equal parts terror and determination.
The Death Knight's eyes narrow in satisfaction as Rimehowl clips through the gangly youth. Hard to imagine he was ever a warrior of the Silver Prince, and hard to imagine why the Silver Prince would so vehemenly want this one killed... but, she's beginning to understand some of these death lords' motives, in a twisted sort of way.
Like children that refuse to share, they so hate to lose what they consider theirs.
But she doesn't strike again, temporarily pinned again by her own internal struggle against the Lich King. Her head twists to one side, eyes screwed shut, as though resisting something unseen touching her face.
"No," she finally spits, as though it takes great effort to open her mouth to speak. "No! I will not-"
Rimehowl sags in her grip, but she doesn't drop the blade, unable to open her hand to let go of it.
"I cannot!" she chokes out, to Frozen, plunging the point of Rimehowl into the earth. She glances up, shoulders hitching as she tries to control herself. Arthas exerts his will, but she can resist for a few seconds at a time, it seems. "He-he makes a Lucavi seem as a mere child!"
And suddenly, there's a firebird winging its way towards her. It doesn't look like this is going to be very pleasant. But then, the Lich King manages to knock the fight out of her, overtaking her again. As before, she straightens, undaunted.
"I tire of these games. Come, ye," she states coldly, wrenching Rimehowl from the earth. A flick of the tip, and she brings it up to try and carve the Essence-firebird, shouldering into the crackling burn of the fire. Meliadoul she doesn't try to avoid, too weighed down by the plate armour to even attempt dodging. She lets Save the Queen bite deep into her side, walking into the blow and attempting to give Rimehowl a solid swing; meant to bat the enraged Balseraph from her.
Yes, that means she lets him strike her, too; claws rending into flesh and plate alike, though not too deeply. Enough to make their presence known. "Away, pest," she snaps, seeking to smash a plated elbow into his face. Her other hand she brings up, splaying fingers and seeking to swipe those talon-claws towards Meliadoul's face. Apparently the Lich King has no compunctions about giving her the same treatment she gave to Simon.
"Kill or be killed," she intones coldly, carrying more of that fel power in her voice. The Lich King speaks, through her. "By the will of the Scourge do I slay them all. None shall stand against the Scourge! Life itself is but a fleeting and fragile thing, and pales in the face of such immortality!"
The firebird explodes upon contact, before dissipating back into Essence. "It might not kill her. If you set it up alright, if the ritual's correct, and if her apparently very strong resistance combines with it and with yours...she's obviously struggling with all she can," Frozen insists. "But she'll need more from the outside-ugh." He runs forward, then, beginning to conjure once more.
"Listen you, Lich King, and your servant. Your kind, all of them, you'll fall sometime-I'll see to it in the thousands of years I have remaining. In the meantime, I won't let you enslave another innocent for your little puppetmaster games! Simon, um, Meliadoul, is it? Careful, I'm about to do something a little messy." He could invoke one of his powerful Necromancy spells, but it'd be a silly move; it's clear that won't work so well against her. But his other spells...
His Essence freezes around him this time, razor-sharp chunks of ice hovering around him and them swarming onto the Lich King's knight, driving themselves into her armor and skin. He's confident this won't kill her; she's no ordinary mortal. "STING OF THE ICE HORNET!...listen, holy artifacts don't always kill the dead. Nor do spells. There's a class of spell-sometimes called Turn Undead in the languages of some planes. If you could alter that spell and find a medium to cast it..."
This is a little take off of what he's planning, highly simplified. "Or perhaps target the Lich King himself, and find how he's controlling her. Break the chains from there...!"
As he holds out his hands, the Ice Hornets continue their assault before shattering back into the snow.
For the second time in as many weeks, Simon Parker's nose breaks with an ugly crunch. Blood stains Agrias' gauntlet, and drips down the Balseraph's face as he reels backwards, nearly tripping over himself in a literal blind retreat. "You really think that will work?" Parker wants to trust Frozen wholly, but some part of him still... still doubts. Demons don't survive redemption with their faculties intact, why should mortals?
"Please. She's my Captain. She's one of the few mortals I respect, please tell me you're telling the truth." Because he has no way to tell for himself.
She seems bent on rampaging her way through the rest of these defenders, given wholly over to Arthas' control. Agrias has no strength left to spend on resistance, having sacrificed what little she had. Her willpower may be strong and her stubbornness a thing of legend, at times, but even she can only hold for so long against a being like the Lich King.
"We will not fall. We command a force mightier even than the reaches of time," Agrias intones, withdrawing the bloodstained plate of her elbow from Simon's ruined face. She would be gibbering apologies if she were in full control of herself, but unfortunately, it seems that Arthas has taken over. "All things that live will die. If time does not see to it, than the Scourge itself shall. And those that the Scourge claims will remain ever more in my service."
Agrias pauses, though, neither speaking nor moving any further for a moment. She clamps her jaw down, a leg trembling as she tries to stop herself from advancing forward.
It's exhausting. Even with a body made immortal by the ravages of the Scourge, it still drains her. Fatigue gnaws at her as surely as the unliving plague that no doubt courses through her veins.
"Just-just break him," she pleads, eyes back to that sickly yellow. "I cannot do it myself. It is as-as digging a tunnel in solid stone-" She trails off into a pained grunt, nearly doubling over with the effort of staving off Arthas' overwhelming influence. "Solid s-stone with naught but a dagger. Please-please, just help me. I suffer, c-can you not see that? Help me-"
Despite the command, she sounds more afraid than imperious, disgusted by the blood she's forced to stain her hands with. Slowly, though, her control ebbs away. The Lich King reigns once again, and she straightens, rounding on Frozen.
"Thou art the one that I was sent to slay, and before I leave this place tonight, Rimehowl shall drink thy blood." There's a finality to her tone as she advances, splaying taloned fingers as she reaches forward, towards the ground underfoot. Death and decay spread rampantly from the central point near Frozen's feet, what few weeds there are between cobbles withering and dying. He may feel a bit sickly - but given his nature, it's likely not going to be much more than a vague annoyance, at best.
It's meant to slow him down. That's so she can distract him and leap in with her real attack; a savage, over-handed strike with the runeblade. Whether it strikes true, of course, is all up to how quickly the renegade Deathknight can react...
"Ugh..." Frozen feels the veins of dead roots wrapping around his feet, and stumbles; it really doesn't feel as awful as it should, but he always was a little clumsy to begin with, so it's quite irritating. He softens, though, when he hears Simon's impassioned plea. "...Listen, I'm not lying. But I don't know everything; all I can do is suggest theories. I understand how much you want to save her. Please just look into these options, until something arises. I can only provide leads right now; I...I can't do much else. A shadow looms over me as well, growing closer...though I guess that makes it obvious, doesn't it?"
He raises one foot, scowling, and then sighs as he forms more arrows in his hand. These are tinged with stinging cold; when he launches them, they seem to fly towards Agrias of their own power. "And as for your threats of death and decay, rot and the eternal inevitability of death, Lich King's Chosen...my gosh, all we Deathknights are the same, aren't we? I used to talk about that all the time. But the thing is, souls are reborn and souls are eternal. And whether you like it or not, the light that burns in that woman's soul is still stronger than all the shadows of death...!"
He pauses. "You...both really don't have to protect me like this; I mean, if you knew what I was, you'd probably just let her kill me..."
Simon swallows, hard. It's going to take a real leap of faith to trust Frozen Heart, knowing full well what he is and whom he might be in league with. "Good," the demon says, hollowly, "Because if she dies, and it's not by my hand, all the furies of Hell will be upon you." Eyeless or not, the look Simon shoots Frozen says it all.
He does remember that Frozen 'kidnapped' his apprentice, knowingly or not.
"I suppose," Parker chokes out. As Agrias lands, he lunges for her once more. Frozen's height and relative non-squickiness are the only things that keep him from being attacked. Once again, the Balseraph lays into the Death Knight with his claws, heedless of whatever injuries he might suffer in the process.
Agrias may threaten her former allies, but her voice does not sound as her own. There's a presence to them far more oppressive than her own, and she moves and fights in ways that just aren't her innate style. For whatever reasons, the Lich King wants this one. He wants to break her will, her spirit; to corrupt her into a tool of the Scourge, fully.
"Thy words are hollow gestures, at best." She shakes her head, stark-white bangs falling free at the motion. She doesn't bother to brush them away. "Have you every counter you can imagine to the diseases of the Scourge? The corruption? The might of a hundred thousand warriors risen from their graves to do the bidding of the One True King, who fight not knowing fear of death, who are not slowed by wounds; who are not stayed by mercy?"
She takes another few steps forward, tightening her grip on the hilt of Rimehowl. The frost-pointed arrows thud into her pauldron, breastplate, and one of them even punches through her throat; but she doesn't seem to notice, reaching up to snap the haft on each side of her neck in one quick, clean motion. There doesn't even seem to be any blood.
She brings up the cursed greatsword, twisting to try and slam the blunt pommel as Simon approaches her. "Decay and rot are some of the mightiest of forces in this world and the next." Her original path had been towards Frozen Heart, but she stops to address the Balseraph wildly clawing at her armour and flesh.
There's a note of disdain to her tone of voice, and what might even be annoyance.
Deal with these pests, my Knight. Kill them all if you must. You waste too much time with this rabble.
They are my allies and my friends, she protests hotly, stopping in her tracks, more concerned with her internal dialogue than the Balseraph already shredding apart some of her armour. She doesn't move to try and block him, and her eyes seem more towards that corpse-yellow again. I cannot attack them, and I will not be your puppet! I am a Holy Knight of the Lesalian St. Konoe Order-
An order that betrayed you, the Lich King observes. Were they not prepared to hand you over to your hated Church? Come, do not lie to yourself so. You are stubborn, but you are without a doubt a cunning fighter. The Scourge has much need of those with such a mind. Leave them behind.
"I will not," she snarls out loud, bracing an arm against the irresistable urge to raise it and strike out; holding her arm at some half-point, shaking with the effort. "Find another pawn. I-I will not suffer this-any-"
And with another burst of commanding influence, Arthas overtakes her meager defenses, forcing her to lash out and attempt to bat Simon away from her; taloned fingers closed into a fist of steel meant to try and bash into the side of his head. "Leave me," she states in the strange, deep tone of the Death Knight. "Thy petty attacks are useless. Think ye to best one of the Lich King's own champions?" She laughs, but the sound is cruel, and not at all like her. "It will not happen."
"We may not know who you are ser, but you have provided us with the means that which may have granted us her salvation." Meliadoul stands straight and she glares at Simon, "And if it is to be her blood on anyone's hands, it will be mine. I will not suffer the likes of you to end her life Parker." Because she knows he's trying damn hard to deny demonic side of him, or so she thinks. Either way, her hands are already stained with the blood of patricide. What's a friend to go with it?
She has not been sitting idle this entire time though. Not while Nigele and Simon are fighting for different reasons. One for his life and the other to save someone dear to him. She must help them in anyway she can. She heard once, a long time ago, that curative spells work wonders on the undead kind and she wonders if they will work on the Scourage inflected Agrias. Only on way to find out.
She pulls from her pocket a father, red as the sun with tinges of gold and orange. She whispers a prayer to the heavens and lifts the feather with one hand. "You are not his Champion Agrias Oaks." She snarls quietly, "You are no one's champion. Not anymore. Not in a long time." She throws the feather, but it's light weight will only carry it so far, which is why she lifts Save the Queen, a blade forged by the hands of man and blessed by the tears of God.
"BEGONE FROM HER! THE LORD ALMIGHTY COMMANDS IT!" She throws her sword, the sharp point impaling the feather upon it's tip, seeking to drive it into Agrias. Somewhere, somehow. She hopes it finds purchase.
"D-don't blame this on me," Frozen seems to stammer. "I'm sorry I can't provide more help, but-" He doesn't want to say 'this is your problem.' He can't say what he's working so desperately on. "But...well, It's the least I can do, madam..."
And then, though Meliadoul's trick earns a blink, the magician turns to face Agrias herself. "As for you. Knight trapped in darkness, you have people who care about you; they'll suffer and walk through hellfire itself for your sake, from the looks of it. When the time comes, when they must suffer to save you, hold out your hand. Speaking from-experience, you probably can't fight the Lich King alone..."
And then he points, and the symbol breaks through his forehead, bleeding black. It might be suicide to show his anima banner, but the damage is already done; he won't be able to return to this village. The Bull of the North will not tolerate Abyssals here. Behind him, an aura of absolute violet-blackness, and the projection of darkened, blood-dripping ice crystals. "I'm tired of running. Go back to your master who commands you, who makes dealings with the Prince, and tell him this. My fleeing is almost at an end. I will free the light trapped within, and reclaim what was mine as a Lawgiver! I will look back at the Silver Prince in defiance, against all the forces of death, and do what he fears most! You're quite fearsome, my lady, but I have no desire to leave here. GO!"
As he speaks, he strikes the ground with one hand; Resonance thunders through it, causing a faint earthquake. The area around suddenly seems to grow unearthly cold and still; the wind itself has stopped.
"Uh," Frozen adds quietly to the others, "keep this all on the down-low, okay? It's kind of risky."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Meliadoul responds back just as quietly. "As far as I know, there was a minor earthquake."
Agrias' fist slams into the side of Simon's head, knocking him for a loop. The world skews sickeningly, Essence-signatures merging into one twisted blur. The Balseraph wobbles and falls, hands turning back into claws as he hits the ground. Blood steams in the snow.
"Yes, Tengille," Simon slurs, "He's one of them, too. Renegade." The demon picks himself up, feels the snow crunching beneath his fingers. As Frozen Heart's resonance flares, he turns to the larger, darker of the two spots of Corruption. "He's right, you know. You're nothing before the Light." And then the Balseraph's fingers are a blur, as he works out some arcane gestures-a tracery of light forms in the air before condensing into a single beam, which lances out at the former Holy Knight.
The Death Knight stands firm against the onslaught from her friends, cyan eyes narrowing towards the Knight Templar. Just what is she planning? What's she got up her sleeve?
You call these friends? Allies? Listen to them, the Lich King intones. They bicker like vultures over which has the privelege of gutting you like a fish, my Knight. Would you, in your pride, suffer such a fate?
They do not mean it, Agrias insists angrily. They would not harm me. And you will not control me any longer! Leave me, before-
Before what? If anything, the Lich King seems amused by this, a flicker of cold mirth touching the corners of her mind. Before you dare raise a hand against me? Look at you, pathetic knight. You cannot even stay your own blade.
Indeed, as Agrias watches, her sword is raised for another strike-
-at about the same time Meliadoul flings Save the Queen, the hallowed blade and its burden of featherdown headed straight for her. The blade punches through her shoulder, and she manages a strange, strangled sound at the impact. Why, that hurts, even to her deadened state; and quite a lot. It burns, even, and it's a steady, persistent burn that doesn't seem to be fading away. Her head twists to regard the wound, and her expression darkens. Just when she seems about to condemn the Knight Templar, though, Agrias manages to regain control of herself again, slumping to one knee.
"That is not me," she hisses, almost ready to cry in frustration. It's like she can see a way out of this, can reach for it, but can't touch it. This must be how fish feel when they're trapped under the ice, she thinks; forever able to see the surface, but never quite able to get there. "I am not his. I am a champion. Her Majesty's champion. None other!"
She wraps her hands around the hilt of Save the Queen, ripping the sword out with a strangled cry and throwing it back towards Meliadoul - not point-first, but rather the motions of the trapped Holy Knight; returning her friend's weapon. "I am not yours!" she snarls, to the winter-chilled air.
No longer, the Lich King intones, his laugh like the rumble of a sliding glacier. That pathetic girl is as nothing, now. You belong to me. Your will is not your own.
She trembles with the effort of holding her position, to keep herself from attacking her friends. It takes every spare ounce of willpower she has not to rise up and attack them, to defy the will of the Lich King with her own.
Finally, she sinks to one knee, covering the wound with a clawed hand, eyeing it with some disdain. Her eyes are cyan once again when she straightens, frowning. "I shall see thy payment for this in blood," she snaps, whirling the runeblade overhead. Her motions seem a little laggard in that arm, though, where the hallowed sword had punched into her shoulder. Yet she doesn't strike, instead concentrating for a moment. The ground seems to sunder underfoot of where the Knight Templar stands, tiny weeds withering and dying, and the raw, choking power of corruption surrounding the very air that Meliadoul breathes.
It's not a very pleasant sensation.
"Death and decay," she states coldly, hand twisting as she commands the very earth itself to wither. "Two of the most powerful forces in this world and the next. With these the Scourge shall advance, and they will not be stopped by such petty shows of loyalty." The word is spat as though a curse.
...That's about when she notices that Frozen Heart is voicing his defiance and sundering the earth underfoot. Well, that's not good. That's also about when she notices the Balseraph's lance of holy light, mostly by courtesy of the lance slamming into her side. She stumbles with a pained grunt, clutching at the point of impact.
...Yeah, that hurt, too.
"Go..." There's a visible struggle for a moment, and Agrias seems to crumple, casting a sidelong glance towards her allies and friends. "I can fight him long enough for you to escape, but no longer! Please, take Frozen Heart and go! I'll not fight with this pointless battle any longer than I must!" She hisses, spine arching as though she were in pain, eyes screwed shut. "Find a way to free me from this monster, but come another day! I cannot fight him alone...!"
Well. You heard the lady! But right now Meliadoul is kind of choking on the corruption surrounding her and even if she weren't, she'd pick up the sword and try to continue fighting. The templar falls to her knees, gauntleted hands clutching at her throat as she gags and heaves, attempting, no clawing for clean air.
She struggles then, to her feet, rising and reaches forward, taking Save the Queen back. She staggers, grabbing Simon by the hand. "Ser! To my mount! He can bear all three of us!" Don't worry. She'll leave you at a safe place Nigele. But it's going to be a tight fit.
"...Right..." There's something a little distant about Frozen's tone, distant and tired. He meant what he said; he's tired of running away, forced to flee from town to town with no real home. But it's almost over. He mustn't blame that other Deathknight, either; she's probably far more of a victim than he was, he who went willingly to the side of the Silver Prince to escape death itself. When he sees Meliadoul choke, he quickly reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bag of dried herbs; if nothing else, the strong scent will protect her.
As he climbs aboard the chocobo, he throws salt behind them as well; it feels treasonous, but by the laws of Creation, it may ward the undead from them for some time...