#aidandawningblade

[aidandawningblade]

“Betrayed”

“If I was dying on my knees I know no one will rescue me But if you were drowned at sea I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe” So this is how it would be Those words rung bitterly through Aidan’s mind as walked through the gates of Silvermoon for the first time in years. It had been... Almost six years since he left, and the disgust on the guards expressions as he walked by was clear. Those lips coiled in a grim frown, hand lifting to pull his cowl further over his head

The only sound was plated footsteps carrying Aidan through the City, coming to a pause every now and again, lichfire hues studying his surroundings from beneath the brim of his cowl. The occasional rotten fruit was thrown towards him, curses in Thalassian, before the Ebon Knight came to a pause before one of the massive Arcane Guardians, his gaze slowly turning up to meet the construct, before he moved on. The next pause was before the mighty fountain within the Court of the Sun, fingers lightly tapping against his thigh, before he shook his head. Turning on one heel, Aidan found himself face to face with a towering Sin’dorei, emerald eyes staring down at the man.  “You were at Lights Hope.” The soldier spoke after a long moment, that piercing gaze seeming to burn a hole right into the emptiness of Aidan’s mind. “...No.” The Knight responded, aiming to move past the man, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “So was I.” The warrior finished, holding the Knights gaze for that moment.

Aidan sighed, stepping back and folding his arms over his chest “Alright. Fine. I was there, what do you want? Have you never learnt not to interrupt a man whilst he’s brooding?” The Knight replied, his words scathing. “The Ebon Blade was betrayed and twisted to work for a master who sent them to die. My name is Alexander Iceblade, and I lead a private military organization. I know of your affliction, and of the requirements that come alongside it. I offer a way to deal with such.” He responded, drawing a card from his pocket and handing it to Aidan, before turning and walking away. Vanishing into the crowds as quickly as he’d appeared. He knew of the affliction, he claimed. Knew of the requirements, of what Aidan must do. But did he know what Aidan had done? The choices he’d made, how many he’d betrayed? That much was doubtful.  With the interruption gone, however, Aidan slid the card into his pocket, setting off towards the gates of the city once more. That was enough of the past for one evening. He’d try again tomorrow.  Perhaps, he’d find the one he’d tormented whilst under the Lich Kings command.  Perhaps, he could begin to make amends. Mentions: @alexandericeblade​  @spellthieve​ @daily-writing-challenge​

[thesilvercrusader]

The Preparations.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Sylris spoke, looking up from the counter top he was working at, preparing ritual ingredients and glaring at Aidan’s body. “You’ve died three times, now. Only two of them were physical.” He added, looking back down with a shake of his head. “I don’t know why I’m still trying to talk to you. You definitely can’t respond. Maybe its to keep myself from going insane, though the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over whilst expecting different results. So. You’re an asshole, and I have half the mind to let you stay dead.” The Crusader finished, dropping a few sliced ingredients into a bowl and dusting his hands off.

“Tell me, brother. Do you know how badly you hurt the woman you claim to love?” Sylris continued, carrying the bowl and the runeblade over to Aidan’s body, setting them on a table, and tucking the runeblade onto his chest.  “Isoria has broken down in tears over a dozen times because of the things you’ve done. You hurt her in a way I don’t think many people would be able to, and despite that, she still wants to forgive you. She just doesn’t know if she can.” He mused, resting his hand on the side of the coffin his brother rested in, watching the perfectly still face for a moment, before he looked to two sets of armor on the other side of the room; The first, the armor Aidan had worn before his corruption. Cleaned to a shine, a tattered red cape clung to the ancient, decorative plate. 

Beside that, stood another set. A darker looking collection, engraved with skulls and dark magic. The armor he’d worn while he was under Arthas’ command. It seemed to resonate the command of that fallen Prince.  “The things you’ve done, brother. I know how much you adored that woman, but how can you hope for her to look at you the same after everything you’ve said and done?” Sylris murmured, one hand moving to lightly pat Aidan’s shoulder, letting out a long sigh.  “I’ll bring you back, Aidan. You should’ve never gone to Lordaeron, if I’d only been there..” He added, watching his brother with a solemn gaze, before straightening up, lightly squeezing the former Knight’s shoulder. “Faith, Charity, Justice, Sagacity, Prudence, Temperance, Resolution, Truth, Liberality, Diligence, Hope, and Valor. Do you not remember the vows you swore, Danny? You’ve broken so many of those vows, not much of them remain.” Came the addition, before he lifted his hands to the lid of the coffin.  “Alystra’s alive, you know. Isoria knows her, apparently she expressed interest in joining the Accord. Your fiance survived the battle you had sworn she hadn’t. What will you do with that information, I wonder?” He finished, pulling the coffin closed. “Until we meet again, brother.” Sylris spoke once more, his eyes glowing a brilliant gold as the candles illuminating the apartment extinguished, plunging the home into darkness as he walked out the front door.  Mentions: @aidandawningblade - Aidan Dawningblade, former Knight of the Silver Hand, current Knight of the Ebon Blade @spellthieve - Spymaster of Blackheart Accord. @extolledash - Blood Knight of Silvermoon, Aidan’s fiance who was declared dead.

[aidandawningblade]

"The First Fall.”

Before Arthas had fallen, I was serving alongside him, seeking to become a Paladin of the Light. One of the first Quel’dorei who would follow that path. I traveled with him when he went to Northrend, and it was no surprise the Humans loved their prince so much. He was a good man, swift to think of everyone else around him. Like many, I didn’t understand why he had purged Stratholme, not until the villagers began to turn into mindless undead. Lunging towards us with starvation in their eyes. I was only a foreign Knight, then. permitted by the King to come pursue better relations with these people.  It wasn’t until we returned from Northrend that I saw what Arthas was becoming, not til his very presence began to corrupt us. At that point it was already too late, nobody went home til our job here was done.  I watched with a mixture of pride and horror as Arthas Menethil turned his armies upon my homeland. Pride, watching as the Prince cut them down so fluidly. Elven warriors who had been believed to have no equal, cut down as easily as a blade of grass.  Horror, watching as the Prince denied Sylvanas Windrunner the peace of death. There was no salvation for her. No salvation for any of us.  Nobody goes home til our job here was done. @daily-writing-challenge​

[aidandawningblade]

“Sacrifice”

“What have I done?” Aidan whispered, staring out across the decimated woods of Quel’Thalas. Slowly sinking to one knee, the Knight lifted his hand to stare at that plate, almost as if trying to will it away. “Who have I become?” He rasped, closing his eyes.

The next time those lichfire hues opened, he was knelt beside a frozen lake, dressed in ancient saronite armor. The same armor that he’d worn to devastate his former homeland. Slowly, he lifted his hand to pull his helmet from his skull, staring down at the beak-like armor, the saronite crown fashioned atop it.  “What am I now?” He rasped, before standing up, beginning to pull each piece of that ancient plate off, a frozen skeleton being dressed in it, back to the lake. Eventually, Aidan ‘Lifebane’ stood there in nothing but a pair of trousers, staring at that armor for hours, before he eventually lifted his hand. Ice cracked over his skin as he moved, shards of the frozen water falling to the ground as he positioned the skeletons hands to hold that massive greatsword. “I would give all I have left to have done things differently. To have not gone to Lordaeron, to serve beside that Prince.” He murmured, resting a hand on the spiked pauldron. “But we are who we become, and I have sacrificed enough souls to that torment.” He finished, shoving the skeleton into the frozen lake “An icy tomb, one you will reside in until the end of time, Lifebane.” Aidan finished, taking a half step back as he looked down at a tiny, undead wyrmling scampering around the forest floor “Come, Silence. We have much to do. Much to atone for. Perhaps one of them will cleave us from this miserable existence.” 

The wyrmling looked up at him, tilting its head ever so slightly, before letting out a little screech, shaking its scales as it charged to climb up his leg, then up his back, before eventually settling on his shoulder, tail winding around his neck 

As Aidan began to walk through the forest, his frozen voice slowly began to echo through those glacial trees.  “Oh, dear mother, I love you I'm sorry, I wasn't good enough  Dear father, forgive me 'Cause in your eyes, I just never added up In my heart I know I failed you But you left me here alone  If I could hold back the rain Would you numb the pain 'Cause I remember everything If I could help you forget Would you take my regrets 'Cause I remember everything  Oh, dear brother, just don't hate me For never standing by you or being by your side Dear sister, please don't blame me I only did what I thought was truly right It's a long and lonely road When you know you walk alone  If I could hold back the rain Would you numb the pain 'Cause I remember everything If I could help you forget Would you take my regrets 'Cause I remember everything  I feel like running away I'm still so far from home You say that I'll never change But what the fuck do you know I'll burn it all to the ground before I let you run Please forgive me, I can't forgive you now I remember everything If I could hold back the rain, would you numb the pain 'Cause I remember everything If I could help you forget, would you take my regrets 'Cause I remember everything  It all went by so fast I still can't change the past I always will remember everything If we could start again Would that change the end We remember everything Everything “  Aidan’s voice broke on the last line, though that was quickly stifled by a shake of his head.  “Not as good as I used to be, hey Silence?” He murmured, glancing to the sleeping drake on his shoulder, letting out a long sigh as he continued the trek. @daily-writing-challenge​

[aidandawningblade]

“The Invasion.”

We stood at the towering second gate of Quel’thalas. A part of me hoped Sylvanas was right, that this gate would be impossible to open. That part was swiftly buried beneath the King’s command. I watched with a mixture of shock and terror at his next words. “March upon the Elven encampments. Leave no survivors.”  Leave no survivors. Those three words echoed in my mind for the briefest of moments, before I shook the cobwebs away, raising my runeblade. I lead the assault on An'daroth, whilst the King set his focus upon the other two. I vividly remember cutting down those warriors, many of their front line having already been bombarded by the meat wagons at our back, leaving the stench of death and the slaughtered faces of their comrades to torment them.  The battle was swift, the Quel’dorei didn’t stand a chance. Every fallen soldier only adding to our ranks. There were no survivors.  This invasion of my former homeland, one would think that I would feel remorse as I looked upon the decimated landscape, the corrupted scar left behind by our armies. Yet I felt nothing. There was nothing but a hollow desire for violence beating within my chest, only ever temporarily sated. Never truly gone. As we stood once again before the towering gate of Quel’thalas, watching as Arthas Menethil - former Prince of Lordaeron, now King of the Damned - dismounted, stepping forward and pressing the mythical Key of Three Moons to the gate. I watched with glee as that gate swung open, and our armies were left unhindered to slaughter the Elven populace.  Leave no survivors. @daily-writing-challenge​

[aidandawningblade]

“Disaster”

Aidan stood there, staring at the spot where Arthas Menethil had stood a moment ago.  “Their lives were meaingless.” “I sent them in to die.” “Touching.” “We may never know, I intend to live forever.” “After all you’ve put me through, the last thing I’ll give you is the peace of death.” Words that rung through Aidan’s mind as he slowly turned his gaze towards Tirion. “Rise, Darion. And listen.”

“We have all been witness to a terrible tragedy. The blood of good men has been shed upon this soil! Honorable knights, slain defending their lives - Our lives. And while such things can never be forgotten, we must remain vigilant in our cause. The Lich King must answer for what he has done, and must not be allowed to cause further destruction in our world. I make a promise to you now, brothers and sisters. The Lich King will be defeated! On this day, I call for a union. The Argent Dawn, and the Order of the Silver Hand will come together as one! We will succeed where so many before us have failed! We will take the fight to Arthas, and we will tear down the walls of Icecrown.” Aidan’s lips coiled in a sneer beneath that helmet. They thought so, did they? After Arthas had cleaved down their warriors upon holy ground? Fools. Those thoughts were interrupted as Darion stood, beginning to speak in that unholy, rasping tone. “So too do the Knights of the Ebon Blade-” What? “Though our kind has no place in your world, we will fight to bring an end to the Lich King.” We’ll do what? “This I vow.” Darion, you fool.  The Assault on Lights Hope was a disaster from the start. Arthas had sent us to our deaths. We had been damned for nothing. Now we’re to stand beside these paladins, and stain their honor? No. Aidan’s head jerked, slowly reaching towards his runeblade, plated fingers coiling around the handle  “I’ll die before I stain this world any further, Darion.” He spoke after a moment, pushing himself to his feet and charging Tirion Fordring...

Such was the plan, anyway. But he couldn’t move. Looking down, holy chains had wrapped around his ankles, a knowing stare coming from a hooded priestess. Her eyes glowed a with holy magic, and she seemed to resonate that ancient, angelic power.  Aidan sunk back to his knees with a low groan, agony coursing his veins as those holy chains seared through his saronite, plate greaves. Eventually, the priestess seemingly deciding he’d learnt that lesson, let up on the spell, leaving blackened skin beneath his legplates, and a lasting scar.

So he was to live, then. He was to live with the memory of those he’d tortured and slain, the memory of those he’d cut down in his homeland. A fitting torment, for he who had been dubbed the Bane of Life. “If I was dying on my knees I know no one will rescue me But if you were drowned at sea I'd give you my lungs so you could breathe” @daily-writing-challenge​

[aidandawningblade]

“Breakthrough.”

And finally, those gates toppled. The final blockade preventing our passage into Silvermoon had fallen, and now those blighted armies lurched forward.

“Duazen-” Aidan spoke, his gaze looking to the side to the former Spell-breaker, his partially cleaved face turning to face the death knight. “Take a small detachment. Clear the surrounding villages.” “Feylina-” Came that chilling addition, turning his gaze to the former Farstrider “Find those of your former regiment. Kill them, and bring me their bodies. They will serve in death, as they did in life.” With those orders, the two headed off. Atleast some know how to follow commands.

With that, the former Dawningblade set his sights upon Silvermoon City, lips coiling in a savage grin beneath that grisly helm, lichfire burning within those eye slits as he watched the ongoing battle. Absolute, untainted warfare.  A Spell-breaker charged him, then, his great-sword coming up to push the weapon away, plated gauntlet lifting to coil around the woman’s throat, snapping her neck as he tossed her aside, letting her fall limp on the ground. She’d rise and serve again, regardless of how he slaughtered them.

As Aidan made his way through the once-peaceful woods, the sudden cacophony of sound erupted nearby. Combat. Followed by a solid thud of saronite hitting the ground. Interesting. Plated footsteps carried him into that clearing, studying the rogue clad in leather, observing the bodies around her, then settling on Duazen for a moment, before he merely shook his head as she slunk into the shadows, holding his hand up as the body of her fallen brother stood up, blood still dripping from that fatal wound. There was no mistaking he was dead, but he turned and shambled after his sister. So did dozens of others, slowly standing and shambling after the limping spell-blade. Eventually, the woman found herself cornered against a wall and the approaching shambles. 

Isoria turned, her lips settling in a grim frown as she watched her brother slowly marching towards her, that double sided blade in hand, with every intention of it being used on the smaller woman. Perhaps she didn’t believe it for a moment, but that doubt was quickly thrown out the window as a Farstrider leapt from the ledge above, putting six arrows into Ator’s chest and head, landing in front of Isoria and leashing another barrage into the approaching Undead “Isoria. We have to go, now.”  Syllis urged, turning to face the former-spell-breaker with a look of urgency. The pair got perhaps three steps, before a massive great sword swept through Syllis’s neck, sending a spatter of blood over Isoria’s face, as well as the wall behind her.  The Death Knight that had raised her brother stepped back, fresh blood dripping off his claymore as he watched the undead shamble towards Isoria, lichfire gaze seeming to burn a hole into her very soul. 

And so the desperate fight for survival began. Arcane infused daggers sunk into the flesh of friends, old and new alike. People she had served with as a Spell-breaker, friends she’d made within the Farstriders. They were all cut down, it wasn’t her time yet. She’d live to see another day. She’d live to honor the memory of those she’d lost, even the ones that were currently trying to kill her. 

Eventually it was just her and the Acherus Knight that had sent those she had once loved to slaughter. His head tilted ever so slightly, his deep rumbling words escaping his helm, distorted by the plate. “...Well. I’ve quite enjoyed our little game up until now. You’ve unabashedly bathed in your friends’ blood, and even now you refuse to shed a single tear.. You are an enigma, truly... Clever, cunning.. an unbreakable spirit... I knew all of those things, but I never knew you were a queen. Until we meet again, little one.” Came that twisted compliment as he turned to walk into the battlefield, his form swiftly followed by the writhing mass of battle. Bodies pushing and shoving against each other in a desperate match of survival.  @daily-writing-challenge​ @spellthieve​ for mentions. 

[aidandawningblade]

“Scourge”

Daily Writing Challenge Prompt: Scourge Day 12 2020 Shortly after Arthas’ return to Lordaeron. 

Arthas Menethil. In the span of thirty one years, the human had rapidly ascended through the ranks of the Silver Hand, swiftly becoming beloved by his people, only to bring a tidal wave of death sweeping over his nation. Lordaeron - once the most powerful nation in the world - had been toppled from within, by its very own crown prince. Aidan mulled over that as he stared down at the armies of the Undead Scourge. Unholy legions that had already swept over the nation, wiping out most of it. Arthas Menethil had already plunged his runeblade through his fathers chest, leaving the throne spattered with blood.

@daily-writing-challenge​