fifth rune :: frost
[It's late afternoon, and this guy just can't take it anymore. He's on the outskirts of the castle gardens, attacking a set of wished-for training dummies. Though the dummies react to the damage he's dealing--spinning around violently when struck particularly hard, for instance--they never seem to break or show any signs of wear and tear.
The scene is made more incongruous by Koltira's outfit; though a brass-buttoned frock coat lies in the snow nearby, he's still wearing a dark blue vest over a silver silk shirt, as well as black velvet breeches and leather boots, accessorized by the giant runeblade that he relentlessly brings down on the immobile targets--freezing them, plaguing them, somehow corrupting the blood they don't actually have.
He's got his long, silver hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the shirt's sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the edges of his arcane tattoos. The frenzy of his attacks suggests that he has some sort of personal vendetta against these dummies. He pauses only to scrawl into his journal--]
[Filtered away from Sylvanas and Arthas]
How much longer do I have to put up with this? When I was under the Lich King's control, my armor was constantly soaked in the blood of the innocent. I threw it off of me like a curse when his hold over the death knights finally shattered and swore to regain my honor. But if you know, if you know that the innocent before you will one day rise to wreak pain and terror across your entire world, will one day in fact nearly exterminate your entire race--is it dishonorable to cut him down, as one cuts down a weed before it grows to the point of choking the garden?
... Yes. It is, of course. He is a living child and knows nothing of his deeds. But to look at him makes me physically sick in a way that I thought I was no longer even able to feel. Partly because when I look at him, I feel the slightest spark of a protective instinct. Like he reminds me of my little brother. Except I don't have a little brother, nor any other family.
[The last is written in Scourge.]
Do I?
[He resumes his attack on the dummies.]
[ooc: journal or in person <3]
The scene is made more incongruous by Koltira's outfit; though a brass-buttoned frock coat lies in the snow nearby, he's still wearing a dark blue vest over a silver silk shirt, as well as black velvet breeches and leather boots, accessorized by the giant runeblade that he relentlessly brings down on the immobile targets--freezing them, plaguing them, somehow corrupting the blood they don't actually have.
He's got his long, silver hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the shirt's sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the edges of his arcane tattoos. The frenzy of his attacks suggests that he has some sort of personal vendetta against these dummies. He pauses only to scrawl into his journal--]
[Filtered away from Sylvanas and Arthas]
How much longer do I have to put up with this? When I was under the Lich King's control, my armor was constantly soaked in the blood of the innocent. I threw it off of me like a curse when his hold over the death knights finally shattered and swore to regain my honor. But if you know, if you know that the innocent before you will one day rise to wreak pain and terror across your entire world, will one day in fact nearly exterminate your entire race--is it dishonorable to cut him down, as one cuts down a weed before it grows to the point of choking the garden?
... Yes. It is, of course. He is a living child and knows nothing of his deeds. But to look at him makes me physically sick in a way that I thought I was no longer even able to feel. Partly because when I look at him, I feel the slightest spark of a protective instinct. Like he reminds me of my little brother. Except I don't have a little brother, nor any other family.
[The last is written in Scourge.]
Do I?
[He resumes his attack on the dummies.]
[ooc: journal or in person <3]