#draeveth

((A little something to make up for my recent inactivity and to show that I'm still alive. XD; I've been pretty busy irl, but I should be back and fully active soon. ^^ ))

Pride had ventured far from the comfortable atmosphere of the Eversong Woods to explore as well as find all new materials to gather. He had found Light’s Hope Chapel and begun to work with the individuals there, both for training purposes and the chance to destroy a heavy amount of the remaining Scourge that lingered nearby. He was in the Noxious Glade when he got the feeling that someone or something was watching him, and while he carried out his mission to dispose of a few pesky cultists, he kept alert. It wasn’t long before he spied a short tunnel, and curious as always, he decided to see what was on the other side. Cold chills rushed down his spine when he realized exactly where he was, a squinting look upwards showing the infamous Ebon Hold far above him.

“Anar’alah,” he had breathed, unsure what could possibly have urged his legs forward, to further investigate the area. His nose wrinkled at the lingering smell of death and the foul stench a left-behind plague cauldron emitted. Without the offerings it initially needed, the poison in the smoke was nonexistent. Walking past the fields and broken houses, he found his way to the ruins of the town and his heart sank at the sight. So many people had died, he reminisced, shaking his head. Human or not, no living creature deserved the end that the Lich King so often brought to those he and his army encountered. His good eye lit up slightly when he spotted the small chapel that had remained standing. Inside, he knelt, murmuring a quiet prayer to honor the fallen, but the eerie tranquility of the area vanished moments after as a cold shiver shot down his spine and he found himself jumping to his feet, about to draw his weapon. Then he froze. In the doorway stood a hauntingly familiar figure dressed in saronite armor, long dark hair pulled back and dead eyes staring out from a pale face.

“Funny that our paths would cross here of all places,” Draeveth commented, his words coming like an icy chill that accompanied a winter breeze.

Pride did not answer, forcing himself to hold his tongue. Instead, he shook his head and took a step back. He felt like a rat in a cage; the Death Knight was blocking the only exit. He watched as the man tilted his head, studying him, before stepping forward.

“No sharp words this time around, boy? Why are you here?” When he was answered only with silence once more, his brows furrowed slightly. “Answer me.” Nothing. “Ignoring me will only provoke my wrath, paladin,” he warned coolly. “Now, answer me.  Why are you here?”

He bit his lip and glanced away slightly. He did not want to fight; he knew he was no match for the soldier. Not yet. Punishment for breaking a law of Sunvein was preferred much more than death. “...Exploring,” he murmured at last. “...To pay respects…” He motioned to the broken altar behind him. A small sigh of relief was held back when the dead man seemed to nod in approval.

“There, see, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Now…” Draeveth rolled his shoulders and side-stepped out of the way of the door. “Get out. You have no place here.”

The young Sin’dorei blinked. Was this Death Knight truly about to just...let him go? Every fiber of his being told him it was a trap, that the monster was only going to stab him in the back once he got close enough. “I can’t trust you.” He stated bluntly, shaking his head. “I’m not moving until you get well out of the way…”

The other male snorted quietly, then shrugged and quietly stepped outside and continued to walk.

Shuddering, he slowly made his way outside as well, glancing around warily. The whole of the ruins had been quiet before, but now it seemed almost too quiet. His gaze fell to the fallen warrior that was still walking and a twinge of remorse pulled at his heart. He hated what the man was, but a small part of him wanted nothing more than to run up to him, throw his arms around him and let himself cry, because dead or not, the monster resembled his father.

Run. Dra’theas stopped, hearing the nearly inaudible whisper in the breeze. He averted his gaze before slowly looking back to the Death Knight, and at the same pace, Draeveth turned around to face the paladin. Cold lips moved, but only barely. Run. A look of confusion crossed his face, then his eyes widened as a sound of swift footsteps caught his ears, heading straight for him. Run!

Pride darted forward just as the ringing sound of a sword slicing through the air was heard, colliding with the ground where he had just been standing. He risked a glance back and the color drained from his face when he saw another Death Knight there, glaring up at him with his lips split in a twisted grin. This one had wild, unkempt blue-green hair and he looked far more ghastly than his former father.

“Hello,” the monster hissed with a low cackle. “Too bad you moved...your death would have been swift. But now…” He broke off with a laugh and jumped to his feet, shrieking in delight as the paladin stumbled and began running as fast as he could. He gave the boy a head-start, waiting patiently for a few moments before he sprinted after him.

Draeveth watched Telindil’s show from where he stood, eyes void of any readable emotion. The other Death Knight was far stronger than himself, and if he had incapacitated the boy so easily before, he knew it would be only moments before Telindil’s blade cut him to pieces. If he didn’t torture him first. He blinked slowly at the thought, a phantom memory of the young boy screaming in agony as an Abomination swung him around by a chain flashing through his mind. He winced. He likely would not have been fatally wounded as he was if he had not been so reckless, breaking away from the group he was fighting with to try and get to his son and help him. Empty eyes blinked again, slowly. He had given his life so that his son could live, and he knew it would not be very different if he interfered now. A screech roused him from his thoughts and he focused on the situation before him.

Pride had not gotten far, Telindil’s Death Grip reeling him in like a fish, and in the next moment, he had been surrounded by cold. Cold was a light comparison to the sensation that racked his body, sinking its way straight through his bones. He did not realize the scream had left his lips, but it was right after that his eyes rolled and he collapsed onto a heap on the ground, earning a sadistic grin from his attacker.

((Crappy writing is crappy. Haha. My muses haven't been cooperating very well lately, but eh. I figured I'd at least throw this together and try to get it all going again. Draeveth is a character I have legitimately created as well, so you might find him walking around sometimes.))

It was in the middle of the night, amidst the normal calmness of the Eversong Woods that the sudden thumping of a body hitting the ground broke the silence. Pride had been taking a relaxing stroll along the riverside when heavy footsteps coming towards him reached his ears and he had quickly turned to see what was in pursuit. Then, he had fallen on his backside while stumbling backwards in horror.

A Death Knight stood mere feet away from the Paladin, Lich-fire eyes glowing brightly from inside a helmet that hid his face. When Pride fell, he stepped forward, only to stop when he was instantly met with a shout: “Stay away from me!” He blinked slowly and tilted his head.

“I mean you no harm.”

The sound of that distorted voice the champions of the Scourge possessed sent a cold shiver down Pride’s spine and he scooted back before pulling himself to his feet. He was slowly getting stronger, with the help of his training on top of the heavy pack of rocks he was still carrying on his back. The Sin’dorei shook his head in response to the words the other spoke. “It doesn’t matter,” he glared, his hand hovering over the hilt of his mace while the other was tense and ready to go for his shield. “I don’t want your kind anywhere near me, monster.”

Another slow blink, and his eyes narrowed. “Monster? Is that any way to speak to your elder, boy?”

Pride growled, his hands curling into fists. “Elder or not, I’ll not show respect to something that murdered countless innocents! The King may be dead and you freed from his control, but you ought to have died with him! Your kind have no place in this world! You belong in the grave, where you were or on your way to before you were raised!” Death Knights were part of the Scourge, and it was the Scourge that murdered his parents, slaughtered his people and everyone else. As kind-hearted as he tried to be, no matter how devoutly he believed in Belore, he could not find it in himself to forgive any lingering creature the Lich King’s death left behind. In his own anger, he truly did not care that he was speaking to an outsider, breaking one of the rules he knew by heart and usually followed as best he could.

There was a long moment of silence before the Death Knight spoke again, lifting armored hands to his helmet as he did so. “I’m disappointed in you, Dra’theas…I thought I taught you to never speak to me that way…” With a loud clunk, the helmet dropped to the ground and the Death Knight shook his head, fixing the high ponytail his dark hair was in. “...no matter how much your temper got the best of you.”

Complete and utter horror was the only thing the young Sin’dorei could register as he stared at the face revealed to him. I know that face...I know that face… A choked gasp mixed with a sob followed by the sound of him dropping to his knees came then, his good eye fixated on the all-too-familiar face that stared back at him. “No,” he whispered, hoping and praying he had fallen asleep nearby and was having a twisted nightmare similar to ones he had been having the past several years. “You...You’re not...You can’t…”

Draeveth Lightreaver shook his head again, looking at the boy’s face quietly. All color had drained from that area and his mouth was agape as he continued his whispers of denial, tears beginning to stream. “It has been a long time,” he stated quietly, practically ignoring the state of shock the paladin had gone into. “At last, I find you, and this is the welcoming I get. Again, I am disappointed.”

Pride was shaking uncontrollably by that point and another sob escaped him. “How could you expect anything different?!” He cried, his rage bubbling its way through his anguish. “My father was slaughtered when the Scourge tore their way through our land! Mother died trying to protect him!” His eyes widened at the thought of the priestess and he silently prayed above all else that she had not been raised as well, that she had not been puppeted into the horrors of the Lich King’s army. Regaining himself slightly, he forced himself to stand and drew his weapon and shield. “You are not my father! You are nothing more than a monster! My father is dead!”

The fallen warrior frowned and stepped forward, his expression unreadable but calm. “Is that truly what you believe, my son? Despite my standing before you, wishing to at least try to make amends? To have some sort of remnant of a family again?”

“I have no family!” He shouted.

“....I see.” Pride had no time to react before a dark force suddenly pulled him straight to the Death Knight and his startled cry was cut short as a cold hand wrapped around his throat tightly, holding him above the ground. “Then, shall you simply become another victim of the pain and suffering I require for survival?” The Lich-fire eyes narrowed again, and Draeveth’s grip tightened. His ears twitched alertly, taking in every choked sound the boy made, every gasp for breath, every attempted plea. After a moment, a low, quiet purr even rose from his chest when he saw Pride’s eyes beginning to roll.

Pride struggled for breath, to pull away the hand that was cutting off his oxygen supply. All traces of his rage had dissipated, being replaced by terror. He tried to ask why this was happening, and as his mind began to cloud, his lips moved desperately, uttering a single word almost inaudibly. “Azarea…”

The Death Knight froze, eyes widening slightly as a familiar face flashed through his mind. Azarea, his beloved. She had not been raised with him; she was still in a grave somewhere, far from his reach, and he did not know where. His gaze fell onto the boy in his grasp and he frowned deeply. He looked so much like her. Growling suddenly, he flung Pride into a nearby tree hard enough to knock what air he had left out of him and send him crumpling to the ground, coughing and wheezing. Then he walked over and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head up just enough to see his face once more.