The Dead sprinted about around him. Tackling men, women and children at full speed and then lurching in for the kill bite, or gouging at throats. Mordnir stood in the middle of the cacophonous sound of battle - or perhaps, in this case, a massacre. The Death Knight himself walked amongst the dead bodies, risen or not. There was something... terribly poetic about the bodies of the previously deceased turning on their own friends and family. It was the least he could do for Lordaeron, for his Knights. He made a promise to those who died, and a promise to the dead can never be broken. A promise to take from the Horde what they had taken from him and his men. Blood for Blood.
An Orc woman stood in front of him, panting heavily and covered in blood and soot. The fires and dim light of the world around them gave her eyes a hungry glow. A need, a lust for revenge. He could relate. Mordnir reached into his cloak and grasped the hilt of his Runeblade firmly. He could feel the vibrations, the need, the desire to kill radiating from the blade. With a swift, effortless motion, The Widow was free of her bonds and her screams and sobs could be heard even through the cries of those around them. She wailed as Mordnir pulled the blade to his face, then flicked the blade downwards as a salute to the Orcess, she did not reciprocate the motion. Her bloody hands gripped the great axe in her hands and with a cry she lunged forward. Bringing the axe over her head, she dropped the weight of the weapon down to meet Mordnir’s head, but he stepped to the side, spinning the Widow in his hand which accompanied the flourish with a cry. The axe met dirt, but was swiftly brought back up to a back swing, an attempt to throw Mordnir off of his guard. He was not far enough to dodge out of the way of the axe, so he brought his blade up to intercept the axehead. He held the Widow with both hands, one on the hilt and the other halfway down the edge of the blade. The axe clashed with the widow, the much larger woman able to push Mordnir a few inches back, but his weapon was small, lighter. Much easier to manipulate and control, and she controlled herself. The Widow tugged at his hand, Mordnir listened and slid the blade along the haft of the axe to lock The Widow’s crossguard into the beard of the Orc’s weapon, then with a swift jerk, Mordnir twisted the weapon downwards, forcing the Orcess to fall out of her balance. Out of desperation, she grabbed Mordnir’s pauldron for support and pushed down, trying to force him to the ground. He left go of the Widow’s blade with his off hand and held onto her grip, turning his body and putting his weight into her push, bringing the larger woman over his shoulder and into the ground with a hip toss.
The Orcess grunted, but brought a boot up to his cuirass, sending Mordnir reeling a few feet. This was quickly becoming an annoyance. The Widow mirrored his frustration and tugged at his hand. Mordnir spun as the Orc stood, the blade screaming through the air and biting deep into her shoulder, leaving a nasty and corrupt wound in it’s wake. The Orcess reeled, but returned to attack again. Mordnir was ready this time. The axe swing, Mordnir ducked under the weapon and brought the Widow back up into the Orc’s leg, then reversed his momentum and brought the Longsword back to her flank, another two, festering and corrupt wounds. The Widow vibrated heavily in his hands as he brought the weapon to a high guard next to his face. The sword was now glowing menacingly with Runic power and the point was oriented towards the Orc. She turned, dragging the Axe head along the ground. She was too tired to continue. She spat blood at the Death Knight as a final act of defiance. Mordnir brought the Widow high, then back down at a horizontal cut. The Widow SCREAMED, the wounds arced Necromantic energies at the contact of the blade and in a moment, the Orc’s torso was ripped into gory ribbons. The impact sent a wave of black, concussive force in a short area around him and the recently deceased around them twisted and cracked back to life.
Mordnir lifted the Widow, and tilted his head at the sword, it seemed to speak to him. Names... titles... Monster...
The world spun away, for a moment there was just him, and the voices.
"I'm sorry. Got mad for a second." Her voice was a bit calmer, but there was still that roughness to it. She'd take a moment to collect herself, the features of hers that began to mutate now pulling back, the glow from her eyes slowly fading away as well. Ellie would clear her throat, taking a couple slow, deep breaths before continuing. "Wouldn't be the first time this brothel houses a monster in it's walls."
Mordnir blinked and looked about, nodding his head subconsciously to those at the brothel. He was back at the Lace Lounge. After the last statement about the brothel housing monsters, he offers a smile and looks to the others, lifting his glass almost as if that statement was meant for him.
In his own, twisted way...
He wasn’t ashamed anymore.
