Then it began. A bucket of something was hurled from the crowd. Its contents emptied over Adam and Burrich. Fish guts and chum bits that had been baking in the sun.
Burrich's jaw tightened the moment they were showered with fish slop, the bloody chunks dripping down his face. He deadpanned and nodded to Adam, "Just keep walking." He moved to press through the crowd again.
Adamar paused as that hot vile liquid found its way down every crack of his armor, soaking into his coif. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly but refused to unsheathe it. With shield raised, he began to bark out commands. "Make way! MAKE WAY!" He'd use the shield to push and shove those who would block their way.
Now the carriage would come under fire. Buckets of chum, turds, rotten vegetables, small rocks… anything that could be hurled with ease was flying through the air at all of them.
Twice now my lands have been burned. Once by raiders.. and once to save it. My people, what’s left of them, fill my halls.. my knights.. guard my borders and the protect the workers rebuilding our home.
The dead came, as I knew they would, my wards weren’t enough to keep them out. They crashed into our walls like a tidal wave and swept through our land..
We had help though.. the Sunshields came along with others.. friends.. they helped us push back the tide and the knights of The Rook carved through the dead leaving nothing in their wake.
Ambrose.. where do I begin with that man. Technically the man was my uncle, but I suppose that meant little once he learned what I was. I thought things had been getting better but he decided to use this moment when I was at my weakest to try and force me to pay for crimes I may never commit. It was in this moment that I learned the truth about the Reaping he wished for me to take, I’d be a slave, bound to Knight-Lord and sworn in servitude to rid the land of the undead for all of eternity.
His righteousness became his downfall.. and by the Dame’s blade.. the Knight-Lord breathed his last..
A new day dawns over my land and I wonder what our future holds. So much has been lost.. gone forever. Yet my people, ever brave, ever resilient, are eager to rebuild and make our home better than it was.
Tonight we mourn our lost, our fallen, and yes.. even the knights who were killed in service to Ambrose. They didn’t chose to be slaves, not willingly.. and they deserve the honor of a proper burial. A memorial is being built for the town square so we never forget what was lost.
As for the Sunshields.. they know I am something more. I will have to answer for that one day.. I only hope they understand it was this.. or oblivion.
Further into the ruins they went, gazes darting all around the area to keep a look out for what might come their way. They were met with no further resistances as they traveled in the only direction available, like mice through a maze.
They stopped only when they caught sight of Mirthreaver, the elf on lounging comfortably along an elevated stage, as if he'd been waiting for them. Of course he had been.
But he wasn't alone.
There standing to his side, bare chest now covered in shadowy runes that pulsed with power, was Kota.
He had held back through it all. Through the whole experience in Northrend, he had been reserved. Even during the traveling, he had kept to himself unable to socialize. More so unwilling to socialize. He had taken to the masts and lurked as a bird. His fear of drowning and his anti-social tendencies worked well in allowing him to be a raven and avoid the chit-chat with everyone else.
They probably thought you hated them.
That thought had crossed his mind several times but it had not weighed too heavy on his mind. For as much pride as he had, he understood why they may have disliked him. He had not asked them except for Kelah, of course. But they had all heard that argument had they not? It was not like he had been quiet in his defense of Ilyea. But why did he continue to play devil’s advocate?
Because you care. As much as you say you do not care about them, she cares for them and because of that, you care on some level. Killian. Echo. Vy’thanis. Hatal. Kelah. Phlare. Even Lady Ver’Sarn and her strange kabal tattoos.
It was because of this that he straddled the line, skirted the edges of what many would have called betrayal. He had pledged his loyalty to Celestine on a moonlit night in a frozen forest. He had given his word and while he may have had his doubts, he had not left. He had been working on the goal they had all been working on; bringing her back. He had wandered far but he knew he would return. The ache in his chest would not let him forget.
And yet, as they had traveled from Icecrown to Zul’drak, he had held back. He had hung back. He had let them take on the enemies when he could have tried to master all the ghouls and skeletons over to their side. He was a Necromancer after all. Dead things called to him, lured him and he lured them to himself. He could have if he had not been bothered by the press of death all around him, by the whispers of the fallen in his ears, by what lay ahead for him after they retrieved the vessel.
It had been a miracle that he had been able to focus enough to use the trinket that Ilyea had made. He had not told them that it was the first time he attempted it nor that he was utter ably afraid he might not have been able to work it. And yet, with the blood mage’s words echoing in his head, he had managed to activate it and use it as a compass and point them in the right direction.
Ilyea would have been proud in all of her facetious glory.
But even as they had come to the Necropolis, he had not pushed to be the one at the forefront. He knew his sacrifice was coming and that was all he could think about as they moved through what felt like a mausoleum. He had never had the feel of the dead make his skin crawl so much as it had been at that point.
There was a reason why Theron avoided certain places, certain ravaged war zones, certain crypts and cemeteries. Ilyea had come to the rescue, however. The mage’s whisperings had kept him calm if not somewhat distracted as they had moved as a group through the place that had made the trinket that had hung around his neck useless.
She does not know how much I appreciated her banter some days. Even when she talks about the oddest of things.
He had watched Killian and Vyth be hurt as they triggered traps so that the rest of them could walk forward without issue. Lady Ver’Sarn had either been far more skilled at triggering the traps without harm to herself or simply lucky. Theron opted for luck. He did not know her well enough to attribute her escape from harm to skill just yet. But Killian and Vyth had sacrificed their well-being, their flesh and bone in their endeavor to retrieve their Queen’s soul.
The moment they had faced the Sins, however, all had gone quiet in his head. They had let Kelah do the talking…or yelling in that matter since she had seemed to know one … or a few of them. They were a contingency of creatures, for there was no better way to describe them. Beings named after sins though he would have been thoroughly scandalized if there had been one named Lust.
You are probably the embodiment of that.
He had thought it and Ilyea had whispered it into his mind. Some days, it was surprisingly creepy how she seemed to pick things out of his mind. The ear with her gifted earring had only twitched in mild annoyance at the girl then but it had brought a smile to his face despite the army of ghouls and abominations that the Wolves and Lady Ver’Sarn had faced.
They had all fought valiantly. They had fought for her. They had fought and been betrayed by Echo. Echo who apparently was one of the Sins though Theron could not take the betrayal to heart. They had all been there for Celestine’s soul. They had fought to find her soul vessel. They had pushed forward against the odds and gone for the heart of the Necropolis where Greed had stood. Stood not as their enemy anymore but as a vessel for her to talk through.
“I am quite proud of you, my darling Wolves. I am proud of those of you that were loyal enough to push forward and see to it that I am restored. It takes a great deal of respect and will to see it through without ever really knowing if it would work or not. I laid clues for you to find that would bring you to understand what happened and to restore me if you desired. The men you fight here are not your enemies. They are keepers. I have placed my trust in them that no one should receive this orb. Your determination has forced them to question that rule. You deserve it. You will not be harmed in as long as you do not harm them. From here, I trust you know what to do and will act quickly.”
Greed’s little stunt of paralyzing them all was forgiven as Greed had placed the vessel in Theron’s hand. They had gotten it. They had received the vessel and the rest was up to their Master of Mysteries, their Sorcerer. He knew the ritual to reset the runes but he knew the price that had to be paid. This was the cause of his anxiety, the eternal struggle of simply not being enough.
“It is your choice to do the ritual or not. You are the one whom was chosen to find me. You possess powers that some do not. You can handle the lash of magic. You know that all things come with a price. Should you not wish to do this, I ask that you find someone suitable to do so.”
Nasheera’s words echoed as an admonishment through him. Celestine’s soul vessel had not left his sight on their trip back. He had even forgotten his fear of drowning and meddlesome sirens as he mentally prepared himself for the unknown. At least Celestine had warned him when he had visited the Shadowlands.
“You have the ability to do this but in order to not risk draining you, you will need help from another or a few. Do not place yourself in slumber. No one else will be tethered to me as long as you are the one uttering the words.”
A sacrifice must be given. But he needed insurance and he knew the two that he trusted to be at his back if they did not deny him. Ilyea and Vy’thanis. If only because he had channeled from them before. If the ritual took his all, he knew he could count on those two, hopefully, to pool enough power in himself to survive it. He had meant it when he had said he would wear her shackles to see her wake.
Celestine Winters. My Queen. The Wolf Queen. The Heart Thief.
The coastal village of Lily Pier. One could smell it long before seeing it. The heavy stench of fish permeated the air so much that it felt as if it had weight. The village had only a few meager and ran down looking 'houses', all built in close proximity to the even worse off-looking pier. Even from a distance, the village... looked like shit. Shit that had been stepped on and left to harden in the sun. What boats were tied to the pier had also seen better days. The wood looking quite waterlogged and weatherworn. As you approach the small bridge leading into the village proper, there sits two men in rough-looking chairs. Both men are incredibly overweight and in desperate need of bath.. for the smell of the two of them almost overpowers the stench of fish. The two are wearing matching sets of overalls, save for one has it buttoned up at the protest of the buttons, while the other has both straps hanging down, exposing his robust and flabby belly. The two say nothing to the group as they stare hard and judgingly. Though they speak loudly between themselves.
"Lookit what we got here. Faaaancy folk, on fancy horses, an fancy carriages." The two spat in unison before going back to staring.
"How much you think all that cost?" "Shoooot, probably more than the entire village three times over."
"Shoooot. Lookit' this one, bein' all respectful." The two of them didn't return the nod to Folcard, but once more spat in unison at his horse's hooves. When the carriage opened up, the two turned and looked like they had just seen a magical creature. "Holy hells, would ya look! They can walk!"
As Burrich approached the two, the one with his guy hanging out stuck those meaty fingers between his lips and let forth a mighty whistle that carries to the village.
"What bussiness of yers is it how our days agoin?" The second one laughed, stomach heaving with the effort. "Yeeah, you folks are a long ways from yer gilded castles. What you want?"
A few people could be seen gathering in the middle of the village, come coming down from the pier or poking their heads up from the boats.
