Discover Top Posts Tagged with #evanrue

Acherus

Duty came as it always did, as the bane of love.

Life had become peculiar since he moved in with Rue into her flat. For one he had a home where there wasn’t danger from the source of a power hungry Warlock. That alone was an unsettling difference he hadn’t quite gotten used to. There was a partner he wasn’t overly shy of expressing ‘love’ to, or whatever fashion of it that was left in his un-life. If Highlord Mograine could have such a profound sense of love and sacrifice to his father, then why not try it himself for Rue?

The runeblades were laid out before him. Weapons were always sharp and they were always dangerous, but runeblades were more than that. A font of power for a Death Knight, some even contained the souls of the slain to provide them necromancy based power. He’d never have that discussion with Rue on whether or not his had any. The blue and red runes etched on the side glowed faintly and seemed to drink in the oil whenever he smoothed the cloth along the flat of the blade. In the reflection he saw two impassive yellow eyes, glowing faintly in the candle-lit atmosphere. Dawn hadn’t quite come yet and he didn’t sleep like mortals did. Too many thoughts dominated his head, the voices of other Knights, of memories and of the dead. It helped to keep himself busy with tasks like this. Preparing alchemical potions and tidying up his gear was a healthy pastime to kill the few hours in a day. Rue didn’t mind most of the time, she was either fast asleep or busy doing her own work. He liked to think that they had a healthy relationship with how one was able to function stably without the other. Strangely it tickled his pride, one of the few emotions that were still easy to remember and prick, so he was ever content to keep things going as they were.

Then the voice came. A familiar one he hadn’t heard for well over a few years, not since the Cataclysm hit and Kallimath Shadowwing walked away from the Ebon Blade to find his own niche in the world. The Scourge was contained, the Cult of the Damned a dying obsession. The world didn’t need a group of Knights so much as more individuals wanting to fight. He didn’t care for the wars of the Mortals. Ever since Pandaria he had washed his hands of politics and their conflicts.

But this voice was Highlord Mograine. And he only said one word.

‘Acherus’

Ever since the Lich King went dormant there hadn’t been a real hivemind for Death Knights. They could still communicate with each other, yes, but it wasn’t the same. But if you widened a creek it’d eventually become a river in its own right and this is how it was with the Ebon Blade. Kalli allowed the images to come in. Demons all over Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms. An Island out on the sea with a metallic structure spewing fel into the sky.

And so Kalli stood to his feet and strapped on his armor. All of it. Not the leathers of his monster hunting and the light chainmail he liked to move around in. Solid plate that had survived Northrend with the tabard of the Ebon Blade running down the center. Both runeblades slipped around his back and were buckled in with their scabbards.

The Highlord was calling all Death Knights to Acherus. War was coming.

He paused in the doorway and looked into the bedroom. Rue looked so peaceful and a pang that he felt only rarely clawed at his chest. Just when everything felt right in the world they would be split apart and dragged away from each other. Per usual life wasn’t so fair, but that didn’t mean the hurt was gone.

In the living room he cleared some space and knelt on the ground. The runes were ever familiar and they practically drew themselves. The death gate sprung open, a mawing void of necrotic and unholy energy that was locked to one place. With his ever tired sigh he stepped through to return to the past.

#LEGION HYPE #KALLIMATH #EVANRUE