capeandcowllogs | Hold onto your bawls, shit's about to go down

Entry tags:

† !—dropped characters—! †

Hold onto your bawls, shit's about to go down

WHO:

necromaniacal and

liadrin (Later

masterous)
WHERE: En route to Superjail
WHEN: Sometime after the Lich King ends up in jail
WARNINGS: Uhm. Violence. Lots of it.
SUMMARY: A very exhausted Kel'Thuzad seeks to liberate his King from DA LAW -- Liadrin has other plans.
FORMAT: Doesn't matter

Kel'Thuzad knew little of rest since his death. He had required little of it as a result of being undead. The longer he stayed in the boundaries of the City, the more useless he was beginning to feel. But he would not have faltered in his duties to the Lich King, not when they had worked so hard to create the army they had raised. Now however, now that the City had once again robbed him of his hard work and he was left with nothing. Nothing but an extreme void in his chest, where he could feel his very existence wavering with weakness.

Raising a horde repeatedly had done him no favors, nor had chaining down Koltira and Jaina. Had it not been for their location's limits, the City would have been their's before nightfall. Just the thought enraged him and caused him to rake his sharp fingernails across his chest.

The Lich had rested a few days much to his chagrin, under the impression that his master would have been able to hold his own. As such, they had miscalculated, and he was now imprisoned in some superimposed cell. No doubt he would be able to forge his magic through the locks to release him, so long as he could get inside. And if that failed, he imagined he could control a guard long enough to force them to unlock it.

Still, Kel'Thuzad was not a fool -- he was weakened, and he knew it. He made no plans to pick unnecessary fights along the way and ducked behind every alleyway he could find. With a plague infecting much of the City and Koltira's confession, there would be plenty out for his blood, however frozen and congealed it may have been. As such, a frost spell awaited launching on his boney fingertips, should something sneak up on him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The liches were separated at last.

It was Kel'thuzad's head that she was fiercely hunting this night; he alone, weak, perhaps even afraid, she knew he would not sit idle while the Lich King was imprisoned. He had taken everything from her, he had humiliated her time and time again, and most importantly, his trickery had nearly broken Koltira's spirit long after their plot had been undone.

But what they did not know was that in killing her, they'd given her new strength. Her magic had been amplified, restored to its former potency, and she had used it to trance the flow of his unholy essence as he coursed through the City. Liadrin was never one for stealth. Her fury was always direct and brutal, and so it was with him as well. For she didn't try to hide her presence as she cut him off at the end of a narrow alley; no pause to give him any warning aside from a primal howl as her halberd-- radiant with a searing, inner light-- sliced through the air, aimed squarely at his chest.

Damn.

He felt her approach before he saw it, sunken eyes widening as a pit of stone dropped into his stomach. Liadrin was the last person he had hoped to see, next to Tirion Fordring himself. The frost nova that had been lurking on his person launched without haste the moment she came into view, leaving him to stagger backwards briefly in hopes of avoiding that damned weapon. For all he mocked the Light, he knew it to be a deadly weapon against those of his ilk.

Under normal circumstances, he would have mocked her for making her approach so obvious to him. Under normal circumstances, he would have stood his ground and fought in the Lich King's name. However, as he was, defeat was a high possibility and that was something that simply could not be permitted to happen.

And so, after staggering and hopefully leaving Liadrin's legs locked in ice long enough to get away, the Lich turned and fled, swearing to himself in some unholy language. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to run if he had to keep casting to defend himself.

Edited 2010-04-01 11:45 (UTC)

The ice halted her advance, as the spell was meant to, but Liadrin smiled with growing satisfaction despite this. Her weapon whistled through dead air as her target stumbled away with all the grace of a terrified child. Liadrin knew that she could easily undo his spell, but instead she waited till he had almost made it out of the alley before she cast her own counter. Holy chains snapped themselves around him, the Light binding him to stay.

"You never let me leave," the Blood Knight said serenely as she broke free of the ice, casually advancing on him from behind, "tell me why I should grant you anything different."

The Lich all but howled in pain and rage as he was shackled, turning like a rabid animal to bare his pointed teeth at the paladin. He could hear and feel pieces of his dead skin sizzling beneath the spell every time he moved too much, so Kel'Thuzad settled for standing perfectly still where he had been rooted. For all his anger, he couldn't stop himself from indulging in further infuriating his foe -- hopefully into making a crucial mistake that would allow him to continue on his way.

"On the contrary," the Archlich began, his voice hoarse despite the haunting reverberation of undeath. His fingers had clenched to fists though he had forced himself as straight as possible despite the new weight he was bearing. "I always gave you a choice." Kel'Thuzad's own chains were floating menacingly around his waist -- if Liadrin refused to release him herself, he would have to force her.

She could not accurately gauge the distance that his chains could reach, so liadrin halted her stride, fingers twitching in anticipation; sparks of Light forming at the tips.

"A pity for you, that I am not so kind."

Her hand shot up to her side, sparks igniting into a spell of exorcism designed to cause the undead unspeakable pain. It would shatter her chains in the process, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. He'd hidden too long, safe in the shadow of his master. She was going to take his security, his sanity, his freedom.

Edited 2010-04-01 18:39 (UTC)

Kel'Thuzad needed no more encouragement. When the exorcism hit him and shattered the chains, he released a bestial frothing cry, dropping to one knee and heaving false breaths. His entire body shook with pain, but it didn't stop him from snapping his arm out like a whip, frosted blue eyes turning white as the chains activated themselves and slithered through the air in an attempt to bind Liadrin to his will.

It wouldn't be easy for him to maintain control for long -- not like this. He would have to flee as soon as the spell took hold, if it took hold at all. Kel'Thuzad recalled Illidan's initial resistance with a feeling of dread. If this didn't work...

Well, fel help him.

Edited 2010-04-01 19:43 (UTC)

The distraction was clever, if not anticipated. Liadrin swung her blade up, twisting it upon contact with one of the sections of chain, attempting to deflect it completely. The problem was that the attack was not just physical, but magical as well. She noted the sensation, the feeling of her mental awareness slipping away long before she ever felt the chains constrict against her armor and skin.

Perhaps, if circumstances were different-- if Kel'thuzad was not so completely spent, if Liadrin didn't have a clear goal to focus on-- he might have succeeded in subduing her. Unfortunately for him, the cards were playing right into her hands and his magic was brittle where hers was strong. Through the unsettling haze she thrashed enough to find where the chains held her, blindly she took hold and pulled hard to break the enchantment.

Kel'Thuzad knew he had failed before Liadrin had broken his spell. The binding was weak, he could feel the void in his chest deepening with the force of his own attack. However, it had taken hold, if only briefly. In that brief amount of time, he had managed to gain some distance.

Of course, some distance was not enough distance.

Kel'Thuzad's chains were unlike the common metal links most people were familiar with -- they weren't merely a tool, but apart of the lich as much as his arm or spine may have been. He could have left them around her, spell in tact or not, and trust they would find his way back to him without any problems, regardless of any hindrance she would seek to place. However, as he was channeling a spell into them, Liadrin's yanking had a similar effect to a master pulling on their dog's leash. Not only had she broken the spell, but sent the lich skidding across the ground back in her direction.

Immediately, he sought to push himself upright. The chains in Liadrin's hands fell lifeless, though pulled in the paladin's grip much like a very strong magnet seeking a metal surface. The glow around them had dissipated and Kel'Thuzad's eyes had reverted back to the tired, frosty blue they had been earlier. If it were possible, he appeared even more emaciated than he had when Liadrin first stumbled upon him.

Edited 2010-04-01 21:31 (UTC)

Delighted at the sight of him scrambling up to his knees before her, Liadrin chuckled as she felt the chains pull and strain towards their master.

"Touching. They seem to want to return to you." she purred, glancing down at him with her eyes narrowed in seething hatred, "I think a reunion is on order."

Holy magic coursed through her hands, traveled down the surface of the metal like electricity along a wire. Liadrin wrapped its length around his throat and dragged him away from the concrete so that he was positioned awkwardly on his heels. He didn't need air, but he needed his voice to cast, so she decided to toy with him a bit. Slowly she counted out the number of people that had died due to the plague. At every tenth number, she'd loosen the chains just enough for him to speak-- or perhaps scream, if he was so inclined.

Kel'Thuzad didn't plan to give her any satisfaction through this -- he was very aware that he was, essentially, at her mercy and that she had none to spare. Though somewhere in the lich's twisted thoughts, he was overjoyed that he had instilled this sort of reaction in her.

The feeling of the Light running across his chains felt similar to having a limb fall asleep, as it were; painful, frozen, difficult to rouse. The moment they had reconnected with his own skin, bathed in the Holy Light, pain shot through him again like a firebolt. The sensation made him dizzy, ill to the point of retching if he were still capable of it.

The lich sought to wrap his fingers around them and pull them away from his throat, which only resulted in burning his fingers and leaving him to writhe a bit until the constriction had lessened enough for him to speak -- no doubt there were chain-shaped impressions in his hands now. "How kind of you -- for a moment, I had mistaken you for one of mine."

After all, such torture was commonplace in the Scourge, though the Light wasn't involved. He gave a raspy, weak laugh to accompany his dizzy swagger. "Have I truly touched you so deeply?"

The counting stopped abruptly as she mulled over his words before letting him go. His faint movement, the sharp twitches of pain and exhaustion. Kel'thuzad would never escape and judging by his jeering, he had come to accept that fact as well. Even so, she circled him slowly like a stalking predator, dragging her halberd on the ground behind her.

"You think you're responsible for this?"

Another laugh, sharper this time. "Lich, I showed this kind of cruelty before we'd ever met."

Pressing his now mangled hand to his equally mangled throat, the Lich let a smirk creep its way across his expression again. He could barely stand, let alone outrun Liadrin while she was at full strength. "That would be why they call you the Matriarch, wouldn't it?" he continued hoarsely, his breath rattling through empty lungs. "No no, I don't doubt that."

He pressed his other hand to the asphalt -- it felt much cooler against his other seared palm. He followed her with his eyes until she ended up behind him, at which point he stared forward. After all, Kel'Thuzad knew little of dignity when it came to duty. If she so chose to take advantage of it, it would mean little to him in the long run.

"Something tells me your precious Fordring would not approve, little miss," he practically purred.

"This is not about Fordring. This has nothing to do with him and he will never know."

Liadrin took hold of him by the scruff of his neck after sheathing her weapon. From her belt she pulled a section of cut cord that had been purified with the Light in anticipation of their confrontation and wrapped it tightly around his wrists so that his arms would remain pinned behind his back. If she had her way, she would have dragged him to the same spot where he had lured her. She'd have seared his flesh in righteous fire until he was unrecognizable even to his master. As it stood, however, doing such a thing in the open would most likely see her put in jail as well.

Besides, she had a friend that she'd planned on turning to for help. "Come along, I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Edited 2010-04-02 01:07 (UTC)

The Lich was not about to go down quietly. Upon being picked up, he half turned to backhand Liadrin, making sure she would feel his nails biting into her skin before being restrained. If the blow connected, she would likely feel the heat still radiating from his hands from her attacks. Regardless of the connection, Kel'Thuzad straightened proudly, snorting in response to her last comment.

"Charmed, I'm sure."

While he would never admit it, the respite from the Light was welcomed -- the enchantment on the cord wasn't enough to cause him significant pain, and so he was able to mostly ignore it. As far as this "friend" went...well, he could only assume who that would be. Would he die? He guessed the answer would be yes, but that was such a simple conclusion that it made the necromancer wonder.

She did flinch momentarily at being clawed, but Liadrin quickly readjusted her expression and position to keep him at arms length. "Oh, dear little lich. You will be."

The Blood Knight had kept the directions to the Master's home ever since she'd healed him while he was afflicted with the Plague. Spurring Kel'thuzad to walk alongside her the entire way there was a task in and of itself, but she managed it well enough, rapping on the door a few times. She didn't announce herself, there was no need. They were expected.

Expected, but not expected. The door opened smoothly - obviously via some triggered mechanism - onto a deathly serious Time Lord donning a hastily-fastened dressing gown and sleep-tossed hair. The gallifreyan only indulged in a few hours of daily rest, and did not like those disturbed. However, as with the Archangel report notifying him of the location of a certain Martha Jones, there were always occasions worth a magnanimous pardon.

Brows rose at the sight of Liadrin - assessing, as if waiting for a good explanation - but when the Master's gaze fell upon the bound lich, his expression brightened considerably.

"Oh," he said, eyes back to the elf, and hands coming together emotionally over mouth before one dropped to his chest, "you shouldn't have ..."

[OOC: I'm legit (http://www.wowhead.com/?spell=72421#comments)]

Naturally, Kel'Thuzad hadn't the slightest clue as to where he was being led. Aside from his growing exhaustion, the lich appeared overall unimpressed with the display thusfar and made a point to make Liadrin's journey to this spot as difficult as possible. In fact, Kel'Thuzad hadn't even been paying attention to the door when it opened -- it was the voice behind it that made him turn to stare.

The Master? She had to be joking. The unimpressed expression on his battered person only extended into an even straighter line as his pupilless eyes met that of the Master.

"This is what I've been dragged here for?" the rasped, torn voice of the undead commander came. "What of it?"

"As we agreed, Dragon." Liadrin said as she shoved Kel'thuzad closer to the timelord, "Once he completes the task I have in mind, you will have what we decided on."

Though Kel'thuzad was obviously unimpressed, it didn't bother her in the slightest. He was tired, underestimating the Master would only make things easier. And she just couldn't wait to watch it all fall into place.

Edited 2010-04-02 19:48 (UTC)

The Master's lips curled into an indulgently sadistic smile. This was going to be fun.

"Where are my manners!" the Time Lord suddenly announced before turning back into his apartment, and flashing Kel'thuzad a wink in the process.

"Come in," he gestured, arm up, fingers flicking forward. Then the Lord Master's tone changed, still dripping with cruel emotion, but suddenly oh so haughty, and far less playful, "... and make him kneel."

The lich sneered, regaining his balance after he was shoved to direct his expression to their host. He didn't step forward, but he gave a rasped laugh at his command to Liadrin.

"What's wrong?" the lich jeered, grinning. "Oh -- pardon me. Did I add a few precious gray hairs to your repertoire? Did my sickness ruffle a few too many feathers to your liking?"

Kel'Thuzad could hardly contain himself -- defeat or not, he absolutely reveled in pushing buttons. "Did you believe yourself to be immune?" he practically purred.

How fitting for the necromancer-- defiant even in the face of defeat. He was at their mercy, surely even he could understand the futility of mocking them. To her, it was nothing more than the thrashing of a wounded beast locked in the jaws of a predator. Kel'thuzad could lash out as much as he liked but every last person in that room knew that it would all end the same way.

"Are you so desperate to grasp for hope, lich, that you resort to slinging petty insults?" The Light once again wound its way to her fingers, crawled into Kel'thuzad's skin as she leaned over his shoulder to sing into his ear, "Your Master cannot help you, as you cannot help him. He will remain trapped forever, the bond between you severed and you, former Archmage, will be alone until I see fit to end your miserable existence."

The gallifreyan did seethe at the lich's remarks, as well as purse his lips into an exaggerated "ouch" at Liadrin's words, before interjecting. So much chatter, and he was being left out. The Master hated being left out, being ignored, dismissed. No, not now, not ever, and certainly not in this, his dragon's lair.

"Correction ..." the Time Lord said, pausing to bring a finger briefly to his mouth - contemplative, showy - before continuing. "I'm your Master now. And Master says ..." With the affront at Kel'Thuzad's words still fresh, he stared into the lich's empty eyes with his own brown ones, brutally trusting the nearly-full weight of his mesmeric talents behind voice and glare. "... kneel."

Kel'Thuzad continued, unabashed by the insults thrown at him. "The undead do not hope," the lich replied calmly. However, his spine tensed when Liadrin resumed pumping holy energy into his system, gritting his teeth in pain. He spoke with his rasp, practically snarling through his agony. "Foolish creatures -- the Lich King is eternal, with or without me!"

He had been about to spit back in the Master's face, but found himself on his knees a moment later. It had to have been the damn Light that was being forced upon him. Despite his wave of calm in the face of defeat, he was finding that the consistent assault of holy magic was beginning to take its toll.

The Lich couldn't stand again, no matter how hard he willed his unholy muscles to do so. Most of his energy was completely spent and it was all he could do to remain conscious at this point in time. It was a peculiar feeling...he couldn't remember feeling this way since Prince Arthas had first slaughtered him.

"My Master..." he heaved defiantly, slightly hunched. "Is the Lich King."

Liadrin watched with her mouth open ever so slightly in awe. She'd seen mind control at work before, but never had she expected to see Kel'thuzad kneel before anyone but the Lich King.

Breathlessly, bemusedly, she murmured, "It's working."

"Actions speak louder than words, leech," the Master said, the last word ripe with vicious emphasis. "And if a picture is really worth a thousand of the latter, your former lord will be rich indeed when I send him this ..." Eyes and a hand flourished to indicate the circumference of said room. "... surveillance footage."

Yet, at the elf's words, the Time Lord flashed Liadrin a disapproving glare. "Of course it's working," he said with much offended incredulity before letting his tone turn deep, grandiose, but with a hint mocking playfulness. "I find your lack of faith disturbing ..."

However, he quickly fell back to the task, or lich, at hand, gaze and words heavy with hypnotic seriousness. "Master says, do whatever the magic-eater asks of you. Now, be a good zombie and call her mistress." The Master paused briefly, then added, eyes wide and brows up with gentle cajoling that was nothing if not insulting, "Well, go on ..."

Kel'Thuzad gave a low laugh in response to the master, the noise being little more than a rumble. "Then I suppose my actions spoke volumes to you if this is your response..."

After that, however, the lich offered no response. The silence left after the Master's words were, instead, filled with an awkward wheeze from lungs that hadn't seen use in several years. The sound continued while the Archlich attempted to regain some of his strength, hopefully enough to put him on his feet again, at least.

If Kel'Thuzad had heard him, he didn't give any sign.

Damn the wretched Lich, his will was still too strong.

Still, it was a situation that could be remedied, she decided as she carefully observed as Kel'thuzad fought to stay himself, to keep his body his own; deep down inside, she wondered if this was how Koltira had felt, ensnared within the rime covered chains now uselessly clinging to the necromancer's body. "I suppose we'll have to adjust the schedule to make this work..."

Inhaling deeply, she positioned her arms, fingers outstretched, over their kneeling captive, "Dragon, you may wish to step back."

Suddenly without a second of warning, Liadrin pulled at the magical energies in the air around her, weaving it into a silencing, draining torrent of arcane energies. The snapping sound of magic crackling into her echoed in the cramped space. Her logic was simple: The less energy the Lich had, the less inclined he would be to fight back at all. Taking a touch of his magic before she'd forced him to submit wouldn't ruin her plans, after all.

At first, he saw no reason for a Time Lord - or a dragon, for that matter - to step back. Frankly, the gallifreyan was a bit annoyed at the intrusion, the interruption, and visibly frowned in the elf's direction. Yes, the Master had been hoping to just insert that "ruling" suggestion and sit back, enjoying what unfolded, at least for a spell. The strong-willed never ceased to be a problem. However, that didn't mean he had been devoid of further options. There is always more than one way around a fixed point in time, after all.

As such, the Master stubbornly refused an active retreat, but did take a few steps back as the magical storm bore down on them.

Edited 2010-04-04 03:44 (UTC)

As a Lich (even a human one), Kel'Thuzad was a beacon of magic. It was woven into his entire being, not unlike an elf. The differences were glaring on obvious in being that his energies were quite unholy, despite being arcane in nature, and they were much more potent. Even at his weakest point, anyone in tune with that sort of thing would feel it coursing through his veins like a well-oiled machine.

So when Liadrin sought to drain it from him when it was already so weak, it felt much like his very lifeforce was being torn away, leaving him to gag and sputter helplessly. Magic was the air he breathed, even in undeath, so the silencing spell had done its job perfectly. Kel'Thuzad buckled inwardly on himself, his skin shrinking to his skeleton in horrific withdrawal and leaving him to fall on his side off his knees dizzily while the heaving of his chest slowed to a dangerous pace.

His awareness of his surroundings had faded into a haze, leaving him only aware of how close he was to his fourth death. Such wouldn't be a horrible thing, of course -- he'd be risen again surely. Thus, he was able to embrace his current predicament and allow himself to relax.

It was a drug. The pulsing, indescribable feeling. The rush of adrenaline, of energy down to the very tips of her fingers. While the undead toppled over in weakness, Liadrin nearly fell back in bliss.

After a moment or two, her slightly heightened senses adjusted as she surveyed the room with lidded, radiant eyes. She smiled gently at the broken figure on the floor, a distant, vacant smile. Her voice, however, still kept a cruel tone to it.

"That should do, don't you think? I do hope I didn't get you as well."

The Master didn't need any magical sensitivity to grasp what had just taken place. Yes, he was a tad startled for a few hundred milliseconds, but quickly processed the scene, and enjoyed it for what it was with rapt attention. However, the Time Lord let his visage shine with the coy glint of a satisfied voyeur at Liadrin's easily-twisted words.

"Gorgeous, isn't she," he said after sidling conspiratorially up to the fallen lich. "Tell me, man to man, what do you think of that last bit? An invitation, perhaps? I didn't know you old devils dabbled in those types of triumvirates." The gallifreyan's lips puckered with a playful flinch as he stole a glance back at the elf, but then slipped the expression into feigned surprise, bringing a hand to his lips and making a show of zipping them shut. "Yes, nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Say. No. More ..." He hopped up to stand next to Liadrin with a smart clap. "... until Master says!"

Time for an experiment, to see how much control could be wrested from this willful creature. Sometimes you got body, but not words, and others words, but not body. Mesmerism was a science, but at times it bore the fickleness of an art. "Crawl to us," the Time Lord commanded, the full force of his hypnotic skill brought to bear, "and beg for leniency ..."

Edited 2010-04-04 20:26 (UTC)

Kel'Thuzad didn't even look at the Master when he leaned down to speak to him. He did, however, flinch at the loud clap. Everything was so much more sensitive now -- sounds, sights, scents. He had to hide his eyes from the lights overhead to avoid causing himself more pain, even if it was all blurry. He was aware of everything -- except himself. It was very familiar to the night he had first met the Lich King in terms of humiliation. This was only worse because these people had no use for him and would sooner see him dead if it came right down to it.

But they wouldn't kill him; he knew that. What he didn't know was that he was reaching to claw himself forward from where he lay in an attempt to obey the Master's command. If Kel'Thuzad hadn't appeared to be a zombie before now, the blank look in his eyes said a lot for his state now. At the command to speak, the Lich could only wheeze an empty plea though his rasp was still angry -- hurt, but not defeated. If there was one thing Kel'Thuzad could not be made to do, it was cower in the face of the enemy. "Release me..."

Edited 2010-04-04 21:39 (UTC)

"Much better." The elf said with a fair amount of evident glee, applauding the sight of Kel'thuzad crawling across the floor. She wanted more from him. Much, much more. After everything that had been done, it was only fair that he felt a fraction of the pain that he caused.

After admiring their new toy for a few minutes, she turned to the Master with her ears curled ever so slightly down. Liadrin heard him talking to the lich, of course, but she figured it was his peculiar brain trying to grasp at sanity. It reminded her of Kael'thas in a way. His madness was immeasurably destructive, but her newfound ally did not seem beyond hope. Perhaps with proper guidance and coaxing he could be saved.

But this wasn't the time to entertain such thoughts. Better to focus on the task at hand.

"Make him use his communicator," she purred, "make him renounce the Lich King."

The Time Lord shot Liadrin a curt glance. Had the elf been observing a different lich? Was she intoxicated on magic, or just plain daft? Anyone with a few meager pseudo-simian neurons could see that Kel'thuzad's motor functions were effectively enthralled, but cognition remained stubbornly resistant. Additionally, the Master didn't much care for anything which approximated an order, though Liadrin's tone of voice did soften the edge. The gallifreyan lifted his chin. It had been quite a while since a female whispered sweet nothings in his ear. One of their number would pay for his dear lucy's betrayal, maybe even this one - the Master's lips loosened into a smile - yes, this one would do nicely, but not yet. No, his abracadabratarian still had untapped potential. There was hope to quash, talents to exploit, and above all ... fun to be had.

"Hmmm," The Time Lord said loftily, with seductive hints to match the elf's purr, as if deciding whether to fulfill her request. "Do as your mistress desires, lich," the Master ordered with the full weight of all his powers of suggestion pressing down upon their target. "I am your Lord and Master," he continued, adding this rote phrasing whose focused power had rarely failed him before. "You will obey me."

Mistress -- nobody was above him amongst the Scourge, especially a woman. He was the Archlich, the majordomo to his Lord and Master.

Lord and Master -- the man standing in front of him? It didn't sound nor feel like the Lich King in any form, but it had the audacity to proclaim such things.

Delirium and exhaustion were slowly chipping away at his thought process. Had the Lich King installed someone in a higher position than he, Kel'Thuzad? This elf -- the bright paladin (Arthas was a paladin once, he remembered) he was to be calling "mistress". Slowly, but with purpose and a trembling hand, Kel'Thuzad reached into his robes and pulled out his communicator to stare at.

The "Lich King" in front of him had told him to listen to the paladin, the very same paladin that had just told him to renounce his glory, his power, his absolute rule and had not made an objection. The wheels in his head turned continuously, but seemed to spin and go nowhere in the fog that was his thought process at the present time.

The lich struggled to sit up on his knees at least, staring down at the device. He existed for the Scourge -- for the Lich King, and he had been told to toss it to the wind. It was the very last thing Kel'Thuzad would have ever wanted in life or death. But it was an order.

And Kel'Thuzad was bred to follow orders. While he caught his breath (figuratively, of course), the Archlich searched for the button to activate the feed.

Edited 2010-04-05 04:34 (UTC)

Never.

They could torture him, burn him, humiliate him publicly but he would never be made to abandon his calling, his army, his King. It was horrid enough that he couldn't reach him as it was, their unified connection having been severed upon arrival. Kel'Thuzad couldn't hear him as he always had, so with the distance on top of that... it was enough to drive him half mad with fury.

The lich spun on the floor with renewed vigor, sending the communicator smacking against the wall before clawing outward blindly at the Master first -- the source of the problem. Liadrin wouldn't be left out, of course. With his mana drained, he couldn't attack her with magic, but he could claw at any area of her that wasn't covered in armor until something stopped him.

And something would have to stop him -- the Scourge frenzy had taken a hold of the Lich, leaving an unholy adrenaline to pump endlessly through his system.

Edited 2010-04-05 20:36 (UTC)

Seeing him leap at them in a blind rage was enough incentive for Liadrin to get the hell out of the way. Fortunately, since Kel'thuzad had gone for the Master first, she had time to roll her body weight into a sidestep, circling around him to unsheathe her polearm and take a rushed swing at his back; however she hadn't the time to infuse its edge with the Light, but in her mind, at least if she stunned him first, she could out her magic to work without worry.

At least he'd made the post. The thought of it was keeping a sadistic smirk written across her face.

Edited 2010-04-05 21:25 (UTC)

The Master of All was a thinker, not a fighter. He nested nefarious plans upon devious schemes with twisted logic for padding. Intelligence was the Time Lord's greatest weapon, not his physique. The relative spontaneity of this encounter as it was, generic traps and minimal trappings were in play ... a thin defense against an enraged lich. The Master stumbled back in hasty retreat, taking Rassilon's name in vain when reflexes ten-times that of a human reached for a weapon that even if completed, would not have been found within the folds of a dressing gown.

The Lich stumbled when smacked with the weapon, causing his swing to aim wildly at the Master's arm, claws seeking to rake through said dressing gown and into his flesh. In response to Liadrin's attack, Kel'Thuzad spun to grapple with her weapon to try and pull it away from her.

Much like the Master, Kel'Thuzad was not much of a physical fighter. Being Scourge, he had the basic unholy might that every undead creature had and was able to use it to his advantage, especially now. Still, it was likely that when the fury died down, he wouldn't recall any of this.

But perhaps he would be able to get away before it came to that. First he had to ensure these two suffered.

People often think the well-trained fighters are the most dangerous, when in truth it is the untrained, the unskilled and barbaric that pose the most threat; for when they are cornered they lash out with unpredictable fury. This is why when Kel'thuzad took hold of her weapon she drew back considerably out of concern. He was mad with rage and his strikes were random, there was no way to anticipate them and she was already struggling to keep hold of her weapon despite his unnatural strength.

It would be pointless to try and battle him physically, that much she was certain of. Quickly, she did the only thing she could think of to keep herself in one piece and summoned the Light to her weapon, coating it completely in its golden glow. She only hoped it would cause enough pain to halt his assault.

Edited 2010-04-06 20:58 (UTC)

Pain blossomed as undead claws raked through thin cloth and found flesh. The Master didn't relish the sensation - well, at least when he was the one receiving rather than meting - but the Time Lord was also no stranger to it. The Master had lived in agony towards the end of his twelfth regeneration, burning hatred and a raging sense of self-preservation alone feeding a flickering spark of life before he could successfully abandon that dying form in place of a healthier one. And those sentiments rose viciously to his defense once again ...

How DARE-- Malevolence flared quickly into an inferno which threatened to consume all reason, fueled by pride and an overwhelming desire to survive. The latter, now overtly threatened, triggered riskier maneuvers which included a palm thrust towards Kel'thuzad with a twisted snarl - Liadrin all but forgotten - the Master's own life energy erupting forth as a beam of crackling energy ...

Edited 2010-04-07 03:54 (UTC)

A wicked hiss erupted from the Lich when the Light engulfed Liadrin's weapon, causing him to release it rather swiftly, lest he risk losing his hand entirely. Seeing as the source of the problem had been taken care of, the Master had been forgotten for a moment in favor of the Light wielder. Holy energy was his eternal enemy after all.

But such had been his mistake. His torn throat ripped open again with a cry of pain as he took the full force of the blow, sizzling at the fury within him. The adrenaline slowly bled out of him through the many tears in his skin, leaving him to drop to his knees again with heavy wheezing and wide eyes. For a moment, he simply sat there swaying before Kel'Thuzad fell sideways, completely spent.

Though he was knocked out, it was obvious he was still alive though barely so. The air he was expelling due to exhaustion continued to weave its way through his burned airways, leaving a rather eerie rattle to fill the silence he had left.

The Master's attack had come so suddenly and so unexpectedly that despite her years of training and experience in combat, the elf just stood there, halberd clutched limply in her hands; wide, luminous eyes blinking.

At first, Liadrin felt no pain, but after a minute or two the stinging bite of the burns that now marked her neck and upper chest finally registered. Her first thought was that the lich had gotten one of his spells off, but as her eyes settled upon his wheezing body, the accusatory glare went straight towards her companion.

"Next time, wait until I am out of harm's way." she demanded hotly, repairing her wounds. The attack had merely grazed her throat and armor in a few choice areas, but it was close enough to the more lethal spots to make her snap in agitation. The irony hadn't been lost on her, however; the most severe damage she'd taken throughout the entire day had come from her own ally.

Edited 2010-04-07 19:51 (UTC)

He wasn't listening, couldn't hear. Even the drums, a constant companion, were nearly drowned out by the throbbing of his own hearts, body racing through a stress response awash in intense emotion. Fight now chosen over flight, each and every heightened process was focused on the fallen foe. Jaw tense, eyes wild with fury, the Master kicked Kel'Thuzad roughly onto his back and stood over him, stance predatory.

As the Time Lord rubbed his hands together - energy sizzling as he built a charge more than capable of ending what this miserable creature termed an existence - a familiar question came to mind ... is this what they wanted? Would it stop, then? Would the drumming finally come to an end? Even if the Master accepted the preposterous hypothesis that the resplendently decrepit postmen who delivered that tympanic parcel into his skull were more than mere messengers, he was a Lord of Time, and understood that causation didn't plod from one point straight to another like so much mindless cattle. Oh no, it could weave together a beautiful tapestry of seemingly unrelated events across dimensions as well as temporal linearity ... a butterfly beats its wings here, a storm erupts there, a kitling jumps planets there, a civilization falls here, a lich perishes here ...

The Master breathed deeply as he consciously tapped into the flow - the currents - of time itself. Winds of change in his favor, or an ill breeze? And if they did cease, would he care? What would he be without them? For a second the Master's eyes drifted, pondering, before he shrugged casually and aimed both arms, palms out, at the body beneath him ...

In all her years if someone had told her she'd be leaping to Kel'thuzad's defense, she would have told them they were completely insane. The fury and determination boiling just beneath the surface, visible in the sparks crackling around her ally's fingertips, said more than enough to the elf to know that she had to intervene if she planned on keeping her captive.

Dropping her weapon, Liadrin kicked off of the floor to tackle the Master around his midsection, attempting to upset his aim and hopefully his focus as well.

"No! Absolutely not-- I need him alive!!" she howled in mid-air. If that blast took, everything she had worked so hard to take would slip through her fingers; the broadcast was the beginning, only the beginning of her plans, and she did not want to see it all broken at her feet now. She was not going to let that accursed lich die.

Edited 2010-04-09 15:21 (UTC)

As before, the Master was oblivious to her words, but not the impact. Broadsided, concentration and charging life force dissipated with balance. The tackle executed by someone with far more physical training than himself succeeded in knocking him to the side, and his head sharply against some furniture, before even his heightened Gallifreyan reflexes had a chance to respond ...

Edited 2010-04-10 03:47 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hold onto your bawls, shit's about to go down

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Kel'Thuzad has sanity?

Some sanity still left in there. After all, he's not mindlessly eating people in the streets...yet.

...fair enough

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

DID YOU JUST LICHSLAP HER? YOU DID. >[

SLAP HIM BACK?

LICH PLEASE

Re: LICH PLEASE

I'M SORRY! MY BAD! I DIDN'T KNOW!

>D

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

/is so dead

IS DAT SUM AFTERMATH?

HOO-RAY!

\o\ ... AND SORRY SO LATE

Naw <3

<3

aaaaand late again >.>

Never late. Also, KO'd, so feel free to skip me from now on <3

*Dr. Evil voice* "You SHOT me, you a-hole."

DDDDD:

Re: DDDDD:

<3

Dr. Evil voice "You SHOT me, you a-hole."