((A little something to make up for my recent inactivity and to show that I'm still alive. XD; I've been pretty busy irl, but I should be back and fully active soon. ^^ ))
Pride had ventured far from the comfortable atmosphere of the Eversong Woods to explore as well as find all new materials to gather. He had found Light’s Hope Chapel and begun to work with the individuals there, both for training purposes and the chance to destroy a heavy amount of the remaining Scourge that lingered nearby. He was in the Noxious Glade when he got the feeling that someone or something was watching him, and while he carried out his mission to dispose of a few pesky cultists, he kept alert. It wasn’t long before he spied a short tunnel, and curious as always, he decided to see what was on the other side. Cold chills rushed down his spine when he realized exactly where he was, a squinting look upwards showing the infamous Ebon Hold far above him.
“Anar’alah,” he had breathed, unsure what could possibly have urged his legs forward, to further investigate the area. His nose wrinkled at the lingering smell of death and the foul stench a left-behind plague cauldron emitted. Without the offerings it initially needed, the poison in the smoke was nonexistent. Walking past the fields and broken houses, he found his way to the ruins of the town and his heart sank at the sight. So many people had died, he reminisced, shaking his head. Human or not, no living creature deserved the end that the Lich King so often brought to those he and his army encountered. His good eye lit up slightly when he spotted the small chapel that had remained standing. Inside, he knelt, murmuring a quiet prayer to honor the fallen, but the eerie tranquility of the area vanished moments after as a cold shiver shot down his spine and he found himself jumping to his feet, about to draw his weapon. Then he froze. In the doorway stood a hauntingly familiar figure dressed in saronite armor, long dark hair pulled back and dead eyes staring out from a pale face.
“Funny that our paths would cross here of all places,” Draeveth commented, his words coming like an icy chill that accompanied a winter breeze.
Pride did not answer, forcing himself to hold his tongue. Instead, he shook his head and took a step back. He felt like a rat in a cage; the Death Knight was blocking the only exit. He watched as the man tilted his head, studying him, before stepping forward.
“No sharp words this time around, boy? Why are you here?” When he was answered only with silence once more, his brows furrowed slightly. “Answer me.” Nothing. “Ignoring me will only provoke my wrath, paladin,” he warned coolly. “Now, answer me. Why are you here?”
He bit his lip and glanced away slightly. He did not want to fight; he knew he was no match for the soldier. Not yet. Punishment for breaking a law of Sunvein was preferred much more than death. “...Exploring,” he murmured at last. “...To pay respects…” He motioned to the broken altar behind him. A small sigh of relief was held back when the dead man seemed to nod in approval.
“There, see, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Now…” Draeveth rolled his shoulders and side-stepped out of the way of the door. “Get out. You have no place here.”
The young Sin’dorei blinked. Was this Death Knight truly about to just...let him go? Every fiber of his being told him it was a trap, that the monster was only going to stab him in the back once he got close enough. “I can’t trust you.” He stated bluntly, shaking his head. “I’m not moving until you get well out of the way…”
The other male snorted quietly, then shrugged and quietly stepped outside and continued to walk.
Shuddering, he slowly made his way outside as well, glancing around warily. The whole of the ruins had been quiet before, but now it seemed almost too quiet. His gaze fell to the fallen warrior that was still walking and a twinge of remorse pulled at his heart. He hated what the man was, but a small part of him wanted nothing more than to run up to him, throw his arms around him and let himself cry, because dead or not, the monster resembled his father.
Run. Dra’theas stopped, hearing the nearly inaudible whisper in the breeze. He averted his gaze before slowly looking back to the Death Knight, and at the same pace, Draeveth turned around to face the paladin. Cold lips moved, but only barely. Run. A look of confusion crossed his face, then his eyes widened as a sound of swift footsteps caught his ears, heading straight for him. Run!
Pride darted forward just as the ringing sound of a sword slicing through the air was heard, colliding with the ground where he had just been standing. He risked a glance back and the color drained from his face when he saw another Death Knight there, glaring up at him with his lips split in a twisted grin. This one had wild, unkempt blue-green hair and he looked far more ghastly than his former father.
“Hello,” the monster hissed with a low cackle. “Too bad you moved...your death would have been swift. But now…” He broke off with a laugh and jumped to his feet, shrieking in delight as the paladin stumbled and began running as fast as he could. He gave the boy a head-start, waiting patiently for a few moments before he sprinted after him.
Draeveth watched Telindil’s show from where he stood, eyes void of any readable emotion. The other Death Knight was far stronger than himself, and if he had incapacitated the boy so easily before, he knew it would be only moments before Telindil’s blade cut him to pieces. If he didn’t torture him first. He blinked slowly at the thought, a phantom memory of the young boy screaming in agony as an Abomination swung him around by a chain flashing through his mind. He winced. He likely would not have been fatally wounded as he was if he had not been so reckless, breaking away from the group he was fighting with to try and get to his son and help him. Empty eyes blinked again, slowly. He had given his life so that his son could live, and he knew it would not be very different if he interfered now. A screech roused him from his thoughts and he focused on the situation before him.
Pride had not gotten far, Telindil’s Death Grip reeling him in like a fish, and in the next moment, he had been surrounded by cold. Cold was a light comparison to the sensation that racked his body, sinking its way straight through his bones. He did not realize the scream had left his lips, but it was right after that his eyes rolled and he collapsed onto a heap on the ground, earning a sadistic grin from his attacker.
“This will be fun,” Telindil laughed cheerily, raising his sword above his head.
