Post by demitassie on Jun 14, 2014 17:34:52 GMT -5
Ravenhul fell to the ground in a clatter of steel. His blood drained from him as he sputtered out, “H-how? This cannot be.” The elf’s eyes casted up to the red-headed Scarlet Crusader that loomed over him. With a hand cupped to her side, blood blotted the white cloth of her tabard. “Damn you, arrogant peasant. So beautiful… so deadly.” She only grunted, sheathing her blade and leaving the sin’dorei to bleed. “I’ll find you! You’ll pay!” the blood knight snarled. The woman’s face neutralized, though a hint of a wince still lingered on her face as she spoke. “I leave you here in the chances that you may survive and tell your people what you have heard from me tonight.” She began to turn as the Blood Knight began hacking up bits of gore in his hand. Continuing, she said, “Consider this an act of mercy not just for yourself, but for all of your people. So that you may educate them. As it is the Light’s will, so it shall be.”
“Sparing my life is a mistake you’ll live to regret, Crusader.” Ravenhul sneered. “I deserve an honorable death.” The woman’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Be strong and survive. Do it for your people. Be weak and perish, then you have no sympathy from me.” As she sheathed her blade, Ravenhul caught a glimpse of the red that stained her tabard. Knight-Lieutenant Milandria Valorheart wordlessly left the elf to lie in the pool of his own blood.
The memory replayed in Millie’s mind. The flash of fel-green eyes, the sinister, runed face. Even now, while she trekked on foot towards the Scarlet Monastery, she seethed at the man’s image. Her face contorted in both pain and rage, clenching the wound on her side. Mahogany eyes glanced about between the scenes that faded in and out of her head. She was alone, and the scent of her own blood thickened the air. The beasts of Tirisfal would smell such fresh blood from miles away; especially this much of it.
Blood knights. What paladin believes they can serve the Light and fight alongside undeath? The Argents, she reminded herself. But the Ebon Blade, even a Scarlet Crusader like herself came to admit, do not compare to the Scourge. The Forsaken could be compared indeed. With the val’kyr being the newest addition to the Dark Lady’s ranks, what is there to say? The Lich Queen, she mouthed bitterly. Might as well be.
Millie had asked Ravenhul the same question. He claimed to be a proud man of the Light-- A champion of his people, but what man of the Light allows the Forsaken to raise the dead, only to murder and raise more? At least a Scarlet Crusader knows evil when she sees it. “They are no enemies of ours.” He had told her. She reminded him that if the Alliance had fallen, surely the Banshee Queen would want all of the Eastern Kingdoms to herself. Surely, all that would be left would be Eversong. The Ghostlands. Surely, Milandria told him, she will turn her blades on him and his people. He clearly had paused for thought. Maybe she was right, he had said. A glint of hope, at the least. That, she assured herself again, is why Ravenhul is allowed to live on this night. There was hope in that one. Foolish, but not hopeless.
The pain in her side snapped Millie back into reality. A sharp cry escaped her throat and sent her hanging off of the nearest tree. The Monastery was still a ways away and she was bleeding out, fast. Resting here was a death sentence. Panic began to set in. “I have a son to get back to.” She murmured. Millie pushed herself from the tree with a newly hardened face. The new thoughts allowed her to press on, combined with the prayers she muttered under weary breath. “Light, don’t let me die here.” She pleaded. “Let me see Garandor and Mathias again.”
Color had drained from her face and her vision began to blur. Trotting along the path, the cathedral had finally begun to come into her sights. She knew she was close by the hanging bodies in the trees a while back. A grisly warning for the unwelcome, but tonight, she’d never been happier to see them. Her pace hastened, until red armor and flame-bearing tabards came into view.
“Patreaus!” one of the guardsmen yelled. “Valorheart, we’re coming!” Slowing to a near halt, she took in the heaving breaths of victory. Milandria reached her destination. With that, she stumbled into the dirt. The armor-clad crusader had earned her rest for the night.
“Sparing my life is a mistake you’ll live to regret, Crusader.” Ravenhul sneered. “I deserve an honorable death.” The woman’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Be strong and survive. Do it for your people. Be weak and perish, then you have no sympathy from me.” As she sheathed her blade, Ravenhul caught a glimpse of the red that stained her tabard. Knight-Lieutenant Milandria Valorheart wordlessly left the elf to lie in the pool of his own blood.
The memory replayed in Millie’s mind. The flash of fel-green eyes, the sinister, runed face. Even now, while she trekked on foot towards the Scarlet Monastery, she seethed at the man’s image. Her face contorted in both pain and rage, clenching the wound on her side. Mahogany eyes glanced about between the scenes that faded in and out of her head. She was alone, and the scent of her own blood thickened the air. The beasts of Tirisfal would smell such fresh blood from miles away; especially this much of it.
Blood knights. What paladin believes they can serve the Light and fight alongside undeath? The Argents, she reminded herself. But the Ebon Blade, even a Scarlet Crusader like herself came to admit, do not compare to the Scourge. The Forsaken could be compared indeed. With the val’kyr being the newest addition to the Dark Lady’s ranks, what is there to say? The Lich Queen, she mouthed bitterly. Might as well be.
Millie had asked Ravenhul the same question. He claimed to be a proud man of the Light-- A champion of his people, but what man of the Light allows the Forsaken to raise the dead, only to murder and raise more? At least a Scarlet Crusader knows evil when she sees it. “They are no enemies of ours.” He had told her. She reminded him that if the Alliance had fallen, surely the Banshee Queen would want all of the Eastern Kingdoms to herself. Surely, all that would be left would be Eversong. The Ghostlands. Surely, Milandria told him, she will turn her blades on him and his people. He clearly had paused for thought. Maybe she was right, he had said. A glint of hope, at the least. That, she assured herself again, is why Ravenhul is allowed to live on this night. There was hope in that one. Foolish, but not hopeless.
The pain in her side snapped Millie back into reality. A sharp cry escaped her throat and sent her hanging off of the nearest tree. The Monastery was still a ways away and she was bleeding out, fast. Resting here was a death sentence. Panic began to set in. “I have a son to get back to.” She murmured. Millie pushed herself from the tree with a newly hardened face. The new thoughts allowed her to press on, combined with the prayers she muttered under weary breath. “Light, don’t let me die here.” She pleaded. “Let me see Garandor and Mathias again.”
Color had drained from her face and her vision began to blur. Trotting along the path, the cathedral had finally begun to come into her sights. She knew she was close by the hanging bodies in the trees a while back. A grisly warning for the unwelcome, but tonight, she’d never been happier to see them. Her pace hastened, until red armor and flame-bearing tabards came into view.
“Patreaus!” one of the guardsmen yelled. “Valorheart, we’re coming!” Slowing to a near halt, she took in the heaving breaths of victory. Milandria reached her destination. With that, she stumbled into the dirt. The armor-clad crusader had earned her rest for the night.