exsiliumlogs | it's a dead man's party; who could ask for more?

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it's a dead man's party; who could ask for more?

Date & Time: 10/9, however many days beyond
Location: Around the city
Characters: Koltira Deathweaver, yOU?
Summary: this stupid fuck is back from the dead. you should probably punch him in the goddamn face.
Warnings: this intro prose is hideously purple pls forgive

He knew of the rumors, had heard the theories whispered throughout the halls of the Undercity, the muttering among the troops he once commanded at Andorhal. According to some, true death for the undead was a release, and perhaps this was the case for the petty troops of the Scourge: the ghouls, the geists, all those creatures who were merely shells for otherwise untainted souls. But for the higher orders of the undead, the reality was much more dire. Koltira's will was his own, but his soul was irrevocably stained, fractured by the Lich King and the unforgivable acts Koltira had committed while enslaved to that overarching dominance. He was damned in this life and the next, as he discovered soon after the last of his energy ebbed out of his broken, mangled body.

For a few brief, shining moments, he felt restored. Whole. Koltira had observed his corpse, now truly still, unattended on the forest floor, and felt nothing but serenity. But then he was thrust into another world, blinded and lost, beset on all sides by slavering, growling things that stared at him hungrily as they gathered for their feast.

Koltira had no defenses. He could not move, nor cry out; he was nothing but vulnerable spirit stuff here, tender and primed for the shredding. And the shredding had come. An eternity seemed to pass, and each inching, crawling second of it was stretched out beyond rational possibility. The creatures of this otherworld had fed on him, ceaselessly, mercilessly, until he was sure that there was no more of him left to take. But somehow their claws always found something to slice. His consciousness was reduced to the basest emotions: despair; terror; agony. He was nothing else, and he deserved nothing else.

Then, inexplicably, Koltira had woken up. He was back on the island, back in his monstrous body, Byfrost lying next to him. The Initiative had resurrected him, and for once he was relieved to feel the old, familiar pain coursing through his limbs. It was nothing compared to what he had just endured.

Koltira's armor was not there in the infirmary, but someone had laid out a suit and a pair of gloves, presumably taken from his sparse room in the apartments. He had climbed out of the bed, dressed himself, taken up Byfrost, and walked out. There was work to be done.

The memory of the past few days lingered, nevertheless, haunting him as he moved about the city, coming and going in brief, dark flashes. He supposed it would for some time.

[ooc: tags can be either action or prose; whatever is easiest! You may find him on the street, in the bars, or lurking in the apartment buildings over the next several days.]

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[ He moves slowly, unsurely, back to crouch in front of Koltira, arms folded across his knees. If anything, he still looks angry. Or irritated, at the least. ]

No. There is not. [ He watches Koltira. He still finds the man hard to read, perhaps always will. Can't tell what the smile is for.... Bariyan scowls. ]

Do you realize how many people you worried?

[Koltira meets Bariyan's eye.]

Were you one of them?

[ Bariyan stares right back.

Anger wells up in him again and for half a moment he is seized with the impulse to say no, to get up and walk away and leave this be. But the anger unravels itself back into the anxiety that it had come from, to the concern. Emma had said that Koltira had died... and, unable to cope with that idea on his own, Bariyan had run to Martin. He'd needed reassurance. He'd been afraid.

Bariyan lowers his eyes and turns his head away. ]

I would not have told you to stay back if I did not care.

[Oh.]

I thought you had simply found me foolish.

[which he was, admittedly, but it's not necessary to care about a fool.]

And you think I have time to waste on fools I don't care for? No. [ 'course not. that's time wasted that could be spent drinking. ] Seems that my time was wasted anyway, of course. You did not listen.

I only meant to--

[another pause, as Bariyan's irritated face suddenly shifts, becoming formless and black, filled with no discernible shape but teeth. He inhales sharply, pressing on.] --protect you. And the others.

Of course. [ It takes a great deal of effort for Bariyan to keep the bitterness out of his voice, this time, and he still fails to hold all of it back. ] And you did well. The Lich King has killed approximately zero of us so far, the last I checked.

[ He inhales and bites back on his lip. He's being unkind. He knows he is. He sighs. ]

You're too noble for your own good, Koltira.

[No worries; Koltira takes it well enough, shaking his head.]

No--I am not. It is not noble to lie alone in the woods, bleeding onto the grass ... [he rakes a hand down his face.] It is ridiculous.

But I have known Arthas before, not only in Azeroth, but in a city similar to this one. He targeted the people I loved most. He tortured them. He killed them. And then he put them on display, for me.

That was all I could think of when I saw his face, here in Exsilium.

[ Terrible as all those things are, it is hard to internalize the full impact of something when described in only a few words. Especially for Bariyan. He can only consider this information briefly now, and file it away for deeper thought later. ]

What did you do about him, in that other place?

Truth be told, I cannot remember. [IT WAS PRETTY MUCH THE SAME THING HE DID HERE, THOUGH, EXCEPT HE DIDN'T DIE.]

My memories of that city are incomplete. However, there was a much more significant force there from Azeroth than we have here. I would imagine that we banded together against him.

And what, do you think that an Azerothian force is the only one that could defeat him? [ almost a scoff. ]

[he was expecting that, and he just sighs tiredly, looking down at his gloved hands.]

I do not mean to cause offense. Many here are powerful, even more so than I am. It is not a matter of that. The campaign against Arthas involved every able-bodied man and woman, of all races, and of every faction, across our entire world. The campaign raged for well over a year, and it took an army to defeat him.

[he balls his hands into fists.] An Azerothian understands the stakes. I fear many of you do not.

You fear. Do you know?

[ Bariyan's no longer sure of what he's saying -- or why. Koltira has not been as set in his opinions as Bariyan had expected and that leaves him with little else to squeeze out of this conversation. If Koltira understands now, then he understands. There is no need for Bariyan to knock it in any further.

He looks away and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, jostling the chain. ]

Talk to the rest, if you plan on going after this Arthas again. I'm sure you'll be able to talk understanding into some of them, at least.

[Koltira glances from the chain to Bariyan's face, frowning.]

I admit that you are among my primary concerns.

[ that gets a raised eyebrow. ]

Your concern is misplaced, then.

[it's difficult to roll your eyes with barely visible pupils, but there is some exasperation to Koltira's tone.]

You are undead. He will almost certainly target you above the others.

Whatever for? [ eyebrow stays raised, man. not buying it. ] It's not the same type of undeath at all.

[Koltira's starting to think that Bariyan just really hates listening to him. He digs a palm into his eye.]

That does not matter. Your body was created through necromancy. Arthas is the most powerful necromancer in Azeroth--a world that is not short on the profession. He would enslave you. He would turn you into-- [Koltira cuts himself off, becoming too agitated at thought. The sentence just turns into a groan.]

What? [ bariyan's already been turned, as far as he's concerned; more than he likes. certainly against his will. ] What else could he possibly do. Beyond kill, enslave.... [ shrug. as if these aren't as big a deal as koltira's making them out to be. ]

[hissing.] Turn you into a death knight.

Edited 2012-10-19 04:42 (UTC)

[ death knight what are th... oh, right.

huh. there's a possibility that bariyan's never considered before. he sighs, looking away for a moment.

not so long ago, he would have said that he would not care. and, in truth, he still did not. it mattered not to him what his own fate was; he only assumed that, one day, it would end in death again. a proper one. all else was unimportant. but these days, he held more than just his own life in his hands.

he returns his attention to koltira. ]

Then I will heed all your warnings. [ will he? time will tell. but it seems to be what koltira wants to hear. ] You need not concern yourself over that.

[looking at Bariyan so carefully and frowning so hard.]

He will come for you, regardless. Because you are undead, and because I ...

[He trails off, and looks away again. He hunkers down, assuming a posture of defeat. These were not words he should be saying, not anymore. Perhaps he should have kept walking.]

[ that catches bariyan's attention. the undeath thing, koltira's pounded in by now -- drunk or not, bariyan's likely to remember it. but the unfinished sentence. bariyan narrows his eyes with a frown. ]

What did you do...?

[He actually seems a little bit affronted by that, and in response, he gets up and steps around the other man, his teeth gritted.]

Nothing. I will let you be, Bariyan. My apologies for the disturbance.

[ Strange. But now does not seem a good time to press Koltira about such matters, and so he leaves it.

He straightens up himself and moves out of Koltira's way, turning to watch the other man pass. ]

Koltira? [ a beat. ] Take care of yourself.

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deadelfwalking - 2012-10-21 23:33 (UTC) - Expand

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