Ice and Grief

The Tower was bitterly cold. Frost rimed the walls and tendrils of freezing fog crept through its abandoned corridors and rooms. The bodies of the Towers previous occupants lay where they had fallen, twisted in the throes of death and forever held in place by the ice. He had claimed the Tower in a single night of bloodshed and it now echoed the chill of the grave that followed Him. Melyssa found him in the Towers highest room, once a stately bedroom for the Towers Lord and now stripped bare. Great sheets of ice covered the walls, a thousand mirrors and windows for the Right Hand Of Grief.

Cold dead eyes flickered to her as she entered, then returned to the blade held across His lap. He had not moved in close to a score of days and the door to His chamber had been frozen closed to all, including her. Melyssa stepped into the chamber, feeling the grave-chill seep into her body. There was no need to speak, He would address her in His own time. For a while there was silence. Then, in little more than a whisper, He spoke.

'It is time. They stand leaderless, divided. Broken. The loss of their dear Edge has achieved all that we intended. Now, the final moves must be made. The Order is finished and they will die broken and screaming upon my blade.'

And Hiraeth Arkitaine, The Right Hand Of Grief, Thrice-Sworn to the Lich King, raised his head and smiled.

'No.. No I said!' Vaknor bellowed at the shadows of the vault. He shuffled from foot to foot and paced a line around the low triangular plinth
'No, not yet. Please.'

The book in his hand trembled.

'Please.' His voice a whisper in the dark.

It was coming, he could feel it. A dark presence listed on the horizon and the air tasted bitter. The old man looked as if the last years had been drained of him, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head in supplication.

'Please. We have lost so much, give us time.' The darkness seemed to swell and deepen.

'The Order is finished and they will die broken and screaming upon my blade.'

Vaknor heard the words, he knew not from where but he knew doom was coming, death riding a steed implacable as dawn would come to the Order. Who would there be to oppose it, the Scion? He was the last of them who still stood with unbending faith, a beacon in the dark. The loss of his brothers had barely registered, but what could you expect from a being that walked a higher plane.

Vaknor placed his hands on the alter and went to stand, behind him he heard movement and from somewhere a dull groan punctured the gloom. Clutching only the Libram of Forgotten souls he rose and faced the new comer.

'I knew it would come to this, I have seen it in my dreams. I saw you fall to madness and still, I refused to believe.' His finger tips went white as he clutched the tome firmly as if it were his last grip on the holy Light.

'You did this to me.' A cracked voice issued from between blistered and pestulant lips. 'You who I cared for like the father I never had. You did this, and now you will suffer the agonies of the damned old man.'

The figure stumbled out of the dark, emaciated and worn but still the girl he had loved.
'Merri.' Vaknor wanted to turn away from what she had become, from her rotted frame and flee into the night but he didn't.
'My poor sweet Merri.' He hung his head, staring at the space infront of her feet. He felt weaker than he had ever felt before, as if the light in his heart had been extinguished. He barely registered her movements. There was a stabbing sensation in his shoulder and he tasted blood. He dropped to his knees to stare up at her rictus grin. Blood was flowing freely down his chin and his eyelids felt heavy.


'Goodnight daughter. What I did I did out of love.'
A second stabbing pain, another blade slipped up through his ribcage and found his heart.

The thing that had been Merrideath stood without ceremony and walked to the doors of the vault, a small raven landed at her feet and she whispered to it;
'The tombs of the Shadow-Bane are open to us, the old-fool has been silenced. Go to Hireath little one.'
The raven flew into the night sky and out of sight as she walked back into the tomb. Her anger burned hot at the betrayal and she rampaged back towards where she had left the corpse. Darkness there and nothing more, she roared in fury as the raven returned and whispered a single word into her rotting ear.

'Nevermore.'




((DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN))

Oh dear Vaknor just died?

((Oh Fuck))

Yeah, you old batard!!! that's what you get!! hehe, wow, that's all al little dark isn't it!!!???

Sorry to jump in on your parade David, just felt inspired.

As to Vak being dead? Wounded certainly. Dying? oh yes. Dead? Well, time will tell.... <-vak

((Poor Azeem, he is going to go absolutely fucking mental. Welcome to Stormwindbine Massacre))

Sweet mother, its all going a bit tits up isnt it? Lets just hope Hiraeth and Karaptis never get together......

I really like the way the enemies we have made in character have all kind of ganged up, wouldn't be suprised if Karaptis caused merri's ice bound incarceration as a round about way to kill Vak. Hireath, Karaptis, Merri and Chuffers are like the legion of evil

haha awesome. Dont forget theres also Carth's sister running round as Hiraeths apprentice. Not sure how shes gonna react to Tattersail and the Chained One...

Would be an interesting rp pen and paper concept to play the group of

Merrideath
Chuffty
Karaptis
Hireath
Carth's sister

I get the feeling a lot of things would get decapitated/ set on fire.

decapitate....sounds good

Fucking AWSOME.

I am not getting half of this. Mac when you going to explain?
Very good story do