Write your characters 'bad ending'. The ideal situation for the worst death/end they can have in their current story plot.
The world had begun to spiral out of control when Silvermoon was first attacked. It was unprecedented to the degree in which the Commander found herself ill-prepared to contend with the growing battle. One by one, men and women fell around her as they were struck down without mercy. She was only able to protect herself, and that was starting to feel very wrong to her.
To even begin to describe their enemy, it wasn’t something the Commander had dealt with before. Faceless abominations and undead ran rampant, their tentacled appendages thirsting to strangle and kill anything in their wake. But their kills had been the particularly graceful ones, despite how unnatural their methods were.
When the Commander had retreated to some place of fortification, she was bleeding and becoming more physically exhausted. Mentally she pried for any solutions, but the devastation was already too great. Resistance had been futile from the start and now she was becoming to overwhelmed by that grief. Her blade stayed beneath her hands as she waited for the enemies to finally find her.
Whether it be honor or pride, she felt neither appropriate when the Juggernaut appeared. If he had retained any sanity it was long lost when his face found hers. An empowered deathgrip ventured out to snatch her, but the Commander leapt out of the fray, her glaive now being readied as she charged Tursidhion. As she had placed her weight into swing, she’d find it easily being parried by that runed claymore he wielded. The lights faded as the runes were put to use and Tursidhion retaliated.
The stance she had held was only tested slightly since he didn’t have to use his full necrotic power given other prior engagements were her now dead guardians. Her scowl darkened as she’d swing her shield to bash his helmet off of his head. The crack had been a sickening sound, but for a man who lived beyond the grave made no inclination that this had bothered him. Two more runes had disappeared from the blade as it found strength beyond physical means to oppose the Commander’s attacks.
The wide end of his weapon had struck against her own which caused them to not only be pushed back, but begin to crack in some places as she held them. Her feet had left the ground at this point too, and the wall was not a very good cushion as she was caught in its now crumbling frame.
More crimson lines decorated her face as she struggled to push herself up. Her right leg moved with an uncooperative shift as she forced herself to stand. But a large hand seized hold of her head as it was thrust back into the remaining wall again. Her hands clutched to her weapons in a deathgrip as she felt her motor reflexes starting to waiver each time her head hit stoned wall. The concussion was nothing in comparison to the way her brain registered pain.
Tursidhion’s feral expression only grew more malicious as he lifted her just by her head. The feeling of her spine pulling on the weight of her whole body was very uncomfortable and she’d cry out for a number of reasons. Her shield having been discarded upon her ascent, she’d swing the glaive at his outstretched arm to disengage herself from his hold.
It managed to work as the fortified ice armor that crept in between the spaces of weak plate was tested by her hit. However, when she fell there was that realization that she had exhausted her options with that final attempt to survive. Her body was already well-aware of the nature of her disposition, and even her mind tried to tell her that there was no use in the resistance.
But her heart was telling her to keep trying. It’s whisper was not only heard by her however….
The blade in which Tursidhion used had been probably about her height given its length, or close to it when it submerged through plate armor like paper. As it ventured through her body and through her heart, there was no longer control of anything. Blood surged up through her throat as it spidered down her chin from her lips. Wide eyes had been focusing on Tursidhion as he towered over her.
Her glaive hit the ground, and while his hands had supported the impaling thrust of his blade, they’d now leave the hilt of his sword to remain lodged in his now dead opponent. The weight of its release simply shifted with the collapse of her body. There was little time to fathom the afterlife as he had robbed her of even that blissful satisfaction. Her mind and body still registering shock until finally there was no life to power her body.
Silvermoon was now without one of its greatest defenders, and perhaps even that signified the fall of the Sin’dorei people.
[Mentions: @theanonymousmuse, @tursidhion-felomelorn]
