Join Date: Jan 2011
Am I my brother's Keeper? [Magina and Terrorblade]
Act 4 Scene 5
The undead lich stowed away his orb. His macabre skull bobbing as he carefully pondered the proper method to test his target. "Magina the Terrorblade" was who the elf claimed to be, but no matter how thick the fog of lies, the lich would find out everything and subvert this young Stormrage to his side.
It was an ingenious plan. "Magina the Terrorblade" would not have seen it coming.
“Who are you?” Terrorblade demanded again. He lied about his name, but it was all part of warfare against the enemy.
The lich was most definitely an enemy.
“I am Kel'thuzad, a lich in service of the Frozen Throne. We have your Akasha. Or rather your Akasha is with us. Simply prove yourself to me and you will have her back.” the foul lich spoke.
Terrorblade reacted. He lifted the heavy spade with one arm and leveled it at the dark mage.
"Then I'll slay you where you stand!"
Kel'thuzad completely disregarded it. Disdainfully, the foul lich raised a bony finger and pushed the spade away.
"Tut tut. not so quick. I do not have Akasha in my hands. She is with the Lord of Avernus-"
Terrorblade snarled and swung his spade hard. The Lich barely avoided it. The Lich's magical eyes registered surprise.
"Do not test me, foul knave." With gritted breath, the elder Stormrage demanded.
"Elf! I am not the one who took Akasha! I am helping you get her back" the fell being deplored. an air of hurt surrounded such a foul being that even Terrorblade was taken aback for a moment.
But he found his natural grit again.
"I don't need your help. I will rescue her. What is it to you anyway?"
Kel'thuzad shrugged. To see a shrugging undead was a most disturbing sight to many mortals, to see the unnatural act so naturally as if they had not shaken off the last vestiges of their humanity.
"Abaddon interfered with my interests. You are presumably his foe. I am his competitor. I want very much for him to be discredited without my hand to be shown. In any case, he travels with a huge retinue of demons. You need my help." The fell lich rehearsed this line many times.
Terrorblade stared at Kel'thuzad in a scrutizing manner.
"Your help? Aren't you two on the serving the same side?"
"Abaddon is a tool of the Burning Legion," Kel'thuzad said it with great scorn, "We of the true undead Scourge do not care for the tyranny of the demonic."
"So you see yourself as the lesser evil," Terrorblade sneered.
"I used to like the old system of management where the native undead were in charge of the Scourge...I cannot agree with the influx of foreigners who are stealing our jobs and ursurping power for themselves. I abhor these demons who are only loyal to their Prime Evil," the lich replied with practiced ease.
"Do whatever you wish. I'll go hunt him down and bring her back." Terrorblade gave him a glowering look.
"Very well, do not complain that I did not warn you. You need an army and I can help you get one," the fell lich shot back.
Terrorblade had already walked away.
Kel'thuzad grumbled, "First the Lich King, now you. Only when things go wrong, then you need my help."
A wicked expression flickered over the lich.
"Soon...It will be soon... You will serve us..."
Both Terrorblade and Kel'thuzad were on a cliff overlooking a huge encampment. Terrorblade was observing the camp, noting the size of its troops and the terrain they were on.
Beside him, Kel'thuzad finished creating a magical replica map of Abaddon's camp.
"The Lord of Avernus travels with a retinue of five hundred demons and fifty warlocks. He houses the warlocks in the tents. I still do not see how you can take her back by force. It is impossible to steal Akasha from him."
Terrorblade frowned. The lich had insisted on following him. In fact Kel'thuzad was the one who directed him to the enemy encampment. He had a nagging thought that it was a trap. But it could not be. This was too complicated a plan for whatever results that are not foreseeable.
Instead, Terrorblade focused on the task at hand.
Towering demons prowled the perimeter of their encampment. Many tents dotted the rocky landscape.
"You know, eventually a smaller force would be overcome by the larger one. You have no hope if you are discovered."
"Since you want to help, why do you not scry the camp," Terrorblade snapped.
"Pointless. The warlocks have thrown up a field of magical distortion. I can safely tell you that if she is hidden in the tents, it is the tent with two doomguards over them," Kel'thuzad said flippantly.
Terrorblade quickly scanned the encampment again.
Every tent was guarded by two doomguards, huge demons with bat-like wings and flaming swords. Terrorblade gave the undead mage a dirty glare.
"Thank you for your most insightful help."
"At your service, "Magina the Terrorblade"." Kel'thuzad gave a mock bow.
Terrorblade flinched a little, he was very much aware that he lied about his name to escape discovery of his identity.
Instead of worrrying so much, Terrorblade left the foul Lich's presence and snuck his way to the encampment.
With drilled ease, the young elf bypassed the patrols and found himself near a tent that was constructed out of foul magic. This was too easy for a raid specialist.
The first tent yielded no results. Only the messy dark effects of a warlock trying its hand at blood rituals. The second and third were equally fruitless.
"This is getting nowhere," Terrorblade thought to himself after his sixteenth infiltration. He was tiring from the tension. The very feeling of heart-pumping and insides coiling up like a spring was getting into him.
The amount of tents to check were dwindling. Terrorblade thought at first that he would have to search the Lord of Avernus' tent to find Akasha. But it also turned out to contain nothing useful to him.
Terrorblade carefully avoided the patrols and the eyes of the doomguard by concealing himself in shadow. He slipped by the back of the tent and found himself in yet another messy warlock's tent.
He was about to leave when he noticed something. One of the many plain black pins that Akasha wore. The elder Stormrage left it alone and cast his eyes around for any sign of her. There was none. Yet on that Warlock's belongings was a sheaf of papers. They were titled; Akasha.
Terrorblade immediately reached for it. THe moment his hand brushed that parchment, a loud wailing alarm rang out. He dropped the papers in shock.
"Stupid stupid! It's a trap!" Terrorblade berated himself.
Actually it was no real fault of his. The alarm that was raised cannot be fully blamed in his lack of ability to sneak around. Rather, it was his poor luck. The tent in particular belonged to Waye Quant Minimus the 59th who was paranoid as a result of his bullying seniors, Waye Cheng the 56th and Waye Hao the 57th.
The history of their queer names came from an anormalous and small and easily forgetten history of Warlock Academy. Somewhere up in the upper echelons of command, some wise chief warlock decided that adding the graduating batch for the warlock would prove to be a source of pride for them as well as a change of names. Unfortunately it meant that if that warlock is a junior warlock, its seniors would often make things a living hell for them until there are newer warlocks.
It became a fad for a quite a few batches until that chief warlock passed away from an experimental spellwork accident. Then his sucessor thought that names like Waye Quant Minimus the 59th was not as scary to enemies as Demnok Lannik, one of their dropouts who ended up with a much terrifying name and far greater skills with spellwork. The regression to the era of scary and terrifying names was swift.
As a result, a whole generation of warlocks with laughable titles walked among them, which Warlock Academy was quick to forget. Due to the embarrassment.
The two doomguards outside the tent were chuckling,
"Probably Waye Hao. I remember he did something like that a few days back."
The other gave a nasty laugh.
"I knew it, it had to be that Waye Hao and Waye Cheng! I have them in my hands, those insufferable buffoons!" a third voice screeched.
Terrorblade could not find a hiding place in time.
He quickly grabbed a ritual knife from the table.
A warlock stormed into the room, a fel orc with blood-red eyes charged in. on its withering hand was demonic energies thrashing about and gnashing themselves into a frenzy. It was really short for an orc, barely larger than a dwarf.
"I got you in my trap! You theiving warlocks. You will torment me no more! Waye Quant Minimus the 59th have prevailed against you!" the diminutive orc ranted.
The orc froze. It saw Terrorblade.
That was all the chance Waye Quant Minimus the 59th ever had.
Terrorblade slew the foul warlock at where he stood, but not before it gave a loud cry.
The doomguards outside lumbered into the tiny tent.
Terrorblade was equally merciless. Two doomguards lay dead in their vile brackish blood.
Breathing heavily, Terrorblade quickly exited.
Only to see four more doomguards staring at him. Surprise registered on their eyes for a moment before they drew their flaming swords. They leveled itat him and charged.
Terrorblade skirted to one side of the charge and picked up a heavy halberd from the weapon rack that lay scattered about the camp. With it, he skewered his third doomguard.
There were shoutings and alarms were raised. Terrorblade fled, trying to elude his enemies. He made it to the center of the camp before doomguards and warlocks from all sides poured it and surrounded him.
One overly-excited warlock, eager to earn credit for himself, threw a charged arcane bolt at him.
Terrorblade leaped out of the way and it struck down a doomguard. The doomguards around that warlock beheaded that hapless warlock for that.
In the ensuring chaos, one doomguard; a massive demon towering over the rest, stepped forward. It had a massive rack of horns set on its crimson forehead and a pair of bat-like wings.
The massive demon drew its flaming sword that smelled of sulphur and brimstone. The flaming steel was levelled at the night elf; a wicked blade drunk with much blood.
The doomguard charged and tried to run Terrorblade through. The strongest doomguard faced off the Terrorblade.
Terrorblade was swifter with the halberd. Terrorblade kept low and speared his foe in the belly. The rest were seized with such a fear that they stood around him, too afraid to attack.
"Where is she?" Terrorblade shouted. "I will fight ten of you to get to her!"
"Ever so predictable, Son of Stormrage," a cold cruel voice remarked.
Atop a monstrous beast of magic and sulphur, was the dreaded Lord of Avernus who towered over everyone else. He sheathed Frostmourne but in his hands, he owned a rapier and had good teachers
"You mean her? She's excellent company. If you know what I mean..."
Anger burned inside Terrorblade.
"Fight me. Mano-a-mano! Fight me if you have any honour!" Terrorblade called out.
"Oh please, how old-fashioned is a thing called honour. I do not need to prove anything to you, elf. Doomguards, take him. Dead or Alive."
Then they all charged him. Screaming sulphurously and waving flaming metal around.
Terrorblade fended off fifteen before the rest started to pour in. Overwhelmingly. Then he felt pain erupt from his abdomen. A fiery blade had got in through his guard.
Just as his strength was being poured out on the ground, Terrorblade felt his eyesight dim. He raged against the dying of the light.
The world exploded around him and Abaddon screamed in rage.
Kel'thuzad was beside him, his bony fingers enshrouded in a bluish aura. Glacious ice exploded off the ground and cracking the ground. A thick blizzard covered the whole area, miring fiery demons in freezing death.
The Lich picked him up with one arm. It was amazing that the undead mage had so much strength to do so.
Then the Lich used a scroll of Teleportation.
Terrorblade felt the strong pull of magic whisk him through. THen was a sudden jerk of explusion and they were in a dark cavern. Drip drip drip.
Something dark and red spotted the floor. Terrorblade gazed at it blearily for a moment before feeling weak. Blood. His own.
He began to pass out.
"Oh no, young elf. You owe me still," Kel'thuzad said sternly and propped Terrorblade upright against a stony wall.
Then as the mists of death and darkness started to overtake him; a sight that would freeze the blood of mere men overtook him.
Three beings, so withered and so wild in attire and wild in appearance, that look not like the inhabitants of earth appeared to his sight. One was a old woman with withered tresses. The other, a twisted shade of a once venerable sage. The third was a creature with a skull for a head and long dark sinewy claws all engulfed in devilry. They surrounded the foul Lich and the doomed elf.
Krobelus the Death Prophet was she, her blackened desires are a hell-cursed inbred offspring of Death and Sin; incestously obessed with Death.
With her was foul company of Rotund'jere, a heretic mage slain by ironic fate. Hypocrites and perpetrators of simony slew him and to find their false gods offer no such repreive from his vengeful wrath.
Atropos is an elemental force personifying the nightmares and fear of this world. He manifested where there was promise of inflicting horror and feeding off dread.
These three foul spirits flanked before a lich most horrid, Kel'thuzad. The one who is the left hand of the Lich king.
Terrorblade's face was white.
"Speak if you can. What are you?"
Krobelus glided in front of him. Her presence was torture for her robes seemed to be made of poor tormented spirits. She spoke in a high and malicious voice.
"All hail Terrorblade, Captain of the Sentinels! All hail Terrorblade, mighty General! All hail Terrorblade, Hero of the world!
The elder Stormrage felt unnatural fear crawl up his skin.
"Tell me more, I know I am the captain of the Sentinels. What do you mean when you say I am a general of hordes? Speak I charge you!" Terrorblade called out.
With a turn, the spirits were gone. Only the lich remained.
"Good ser, why do you turn chalky white and tremble at things that sound so fair," the fell Lich remarked.
Terrorblade looked down at his body.
There was no sign of any wound.