Northrend Gambit, The

The Northrend Gambit
 * - by Slyph

 "It just wouldn't work out...." "You don't have the key..." "We can still be friends...." "You are my best friend..."  Those words.... simple words, really, the giant thought. Amazing how much pain they could bring for one who felt no pain.  The riding wolf padded away, after some trail, snarling at it's master as she pulled on it's ears. Sounds. Meaningless sounds, thought the giant as he fell to his knees. He stripped off the armor that had so protected him, letting it fall to the muddy grass of the island. He raised his hands to the sky, a scream of sorrow was heard in Ashenvale.  "ALL I AM IS MY HATRED!" roared the giant. He felt empty. Alone, in the night sky, all he recieved for answer is the quiet hooting of the owls....  Quietly now, he murmured to the ground, white skull drooping..... "If all I am is my hatred now.... why do I feel so empty.... simple, really... I had something else, other than hatred... for once. But it's gone now."  "Yes, it's gone now. Exactly as I said it would, didn't I?"  <BR>Tears would have welled up in the giant's eyes had he any tear ducts left. "Yes. You're right. Blast you, you've always been right. No matter what. Why, couldn't you have been wrong, this one time?" <BR> <BR>"My child.... it would not have led you back to me, then... Oh, my prodigal knight. But you must come back now. We agreed. I said love was never going to be found for one such as you, one who is so close to me in heart. You said you had already found it. Truly, I was amazed when I heard this. I did not believe. I asked for proof. And the Deal... oh the deal.... You would rejoin us.... if you lost.... and we would leave you alone... if you won. But now... what would you say? Who has won?" <BR> <BR>Slyph bobbed his head, nodding vigorously, hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. "You. Always you, my lord. It will always be you." <BR> <BR>The behemoth warrior brought out the blade that he had so long fought with, the one that spoke to him like a long lost friend. "We rejoin our brothers and sisters." The sword sang a song of joy, of happiness. It was returning to where it felt it had always belonged. <BR> <BR>The gigantic man thrust the blade through his own chest, piercing rotted flesh and decayed bone. Slyph gasped, and fell into the mud. <BR> <BR>Green, unholy energy flowed from around the sword. Spirits, shrieking at the foul magics that corrupted them, entering and exiting the sword at lighting speeds. A great wind kicked up, and the birds of the air flew out in fear of the mystical wind. <BR> <BR>The wind stopped. The giant's eyes glowed a dark blue. Cold determination seen behind the unholy orbs, and a breath of frost exited from the bone white jaw. The monster sat up, and wrenched the blade from his chest. No blood. The wound healed immediately. <BR> <BR>"Come, Icerage. We have work to do." He lumbered off, into the dark night.... and where he went, the broken bodies of men, women and children left a horrific trail attesting to what the monster saw as the "mockery" of life and the "glorious" promise of death. <BR> <BR>''Remember, my son. No one shall know of your return to me. And none will, until the time is right....'' <BR> <BR> <BR>((..... Aaat least until two level 60's came and kicked my butt at Ashenvale. Lawl. Thank you to those certain parties that helped with this story... and I look forward to more great RP!))

The monster sat on the blood slickened grass, a deep sigh escaping him. He was exhausted from the slaughter. Necromancers moved, fluidly casting their spells to clean up the mess that he had cause. This village would restore some of what the Scourge had lost in the last few weeks. <BR> <BR>Another deep sigh escaped, and he reflected on the events that had passed. It was his own fault, really. He had bet on something that he thought he was sure of. He had been wrong, and that had cost him everything. But now.... that he had nothing... it wasn't so bad. Was it? He was serving. It was something he knew how to do. He did not know how to be social. He didn't know how to be friendly. He had tried. And he hadn't gotten much. <BR> <BR>Sure, there were the few. But they had their own lives to live, their own interests. They wouldn't notice the change. Not until it was too late. <BR> <BR>A little zombie girl rose up from the bloody and muddy ground, running through the folds of the necromancer's robes, towards him. She gave a little "Rawr" and looked pleadingly at Slyph, her eyes bleeding and her neck at an odd angle. <BR> <BR>He chuckled, and threw a piece of meat to the little girl. Ironic that it was a piece of her father's heart. The man had died trying to avenge her.... and now she was eating his still warm heart. Yes. The man of the North had been right. He had always been right. <BR> <BR> Soon, the necromancer's work was complete. There would be no bodies in this village.... just far too much blood. Such was the work of the Scourge. <BR> <BR>Go back to the Horde, my son. See what you can see. Pretend that nothing has happened. <BR> <BR>"As you wish, Lord." The monster got up, and took his blades from the ground, pristine despite the gory work they had done, and made for Orgrimmar...<BR>