History
Searching for New Purpose: Kri'ton Kalusyo
[I've never sat down and wrote out an explicit/detailed Bio for Kal, but he has grown into something greater than I could have ever imagined since his creation. Below are excerpts and links to various IC thread posts/storylines he was involved in through the ages. They are posted/linked in relative chronological order from earliest to most recent. Hope it gives a bit more insight, enjoy!]
[The first 'appearance' of the warrior Kalusyo was as a hired bodyguard for Barlowe T. Korsaire, leader of the Stormwraiths. The two were old friends, and when he needed a bit more muscle, Korsaire called in Kalusyo to get involved.... or did he?]
The sky cracked, flashing bright white as thunder rumbled its report off in the distance. However brief the immense light may have endured, if one had looked close enough, they could have noticed that what appeared to be the thicket and shrubbery was moving, ever-so-slowly, to the treeline.
Stopping, the shadowed forms remained within the cover of the brush, a stone's throw away from a rather large, enchanted tent- just one of the many that made up this encampment. The lightning erupted across the sky once more, its glare revealed one man, his cowl hiding everything but his frown.
'No,this will not be a good night,' he thought. A slight drizzle began to fall, forming a sleek sheen on his black mageweave robes. And then, he spoke, "Kalusyo, these vagabonds have no honor. They have stood for nothing, served no purpose to the Alliance, save for causing more trouble than they are worth... " His voice trailed off momentarily, replaced by the steady drumming of droplets striking the foilage about him.
"-They must be dealt with." The waver in his tone seemed to last for but a second, but the lack of conviction was lost in another earth-shattering crash as another bolt of light tore across the sky.
A familiar sound of metal plates grinding together revealed yet another man, much larger in size- a walking fortress.Everything, except for his head, was covered in scratched, dented, and for the most part, well-used armor. His cold silver eyes, matching his long grey ponytail, shifted to the cowled man's form.
"Weren't these friends of yours?..." the large man's monotone voice, despite his size, came out barely a whisper. The frown turned to a slight grimace,"They've chosen their side... to not be with us is to be against us..."
"Your call boss, " Kalusyo replied, his steel pauldrons heaving up and downwards in a slight shrug. Starting towards the nearest tent, the warrior tightened his grip on the giant hammer he wielded, causing his gauntlets to creak as the metal grinded mercilessly against the wooden handle.
"Wait..." The voice emitted calmly- some what frighteningly patient- from the cowl, "... one of us is unsure..."Turning, the cowl faced a third form, smaller in size than the warrior and himself. "Having second thoughts?... Our will must not falter now..." His hand, reached out, resting on the shoulder of the smaller figure.
Yet another flash of light jolted the horizon,illuminating the entire wood. The woman looked up into the cowl, her raven colored hair slicked down against her face. As she stared in to the cowl, she contemplated the events which were to come, not needing to see the face of the man to know the sorts of demons ran rampant within him.
The masked man reached up and slowly pulled back the cowl, his fiery red hair falling about his face, his bright green eyes emblazoned,
"Coralie... we've done so much for the Alliance, for Azeroth... we must not abandon our mission now..."
[The thread continues with various authors from the Stormwraiths and the Retribution of Arathor contributing here...(( http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=147516&ForumID=714717&TabID=1252511&Replies=33&TopicID=5160096 ))
[The first 'appearance' of the warrior Kalusyo was as a hired bodyguard for Barlowe T. Korsaire, leader of the Stormwraiths. The two were old friends, and when he needed a bit more muscle, Korsaire called in Kalusyo to get involved.... or did he?]
The sky cracked, flashing bright white as thunder rumbled its report off in the distance. However brief the immense light may have endured, if one had looked close enough, they could have noticed that what appeared to be the thicket and shrubbery was moving, ever-so-slowly, to the treeline.
Stopping, the shadowed forms remained within the cover of the brush, a stone's throw away from a rather large, enchanted tent- just one of the many that made up this encampment. The lightning erupted across the sky once more, its glare revealed one man, his cowl hiding everything but his frown.
'No,this will not be a good night,' he thought. A slight drizzle began to fall, forming a sleek sheen on his black mageweave robes. And then, he spoke, "Kalusyo, these vagabonds have no honor. They have stood for nothing, served no purpose to the Alliance, save for causing more trouble than they are worth... " His voice trailed off momentarily, replaced by the steady drumming of droplets striking the foilage about him.
"-They must be dealt with." The waver in his tone seemed to last for but a second, but the lack of conviction was lost in another earth-shattering crash as another bolt of light tore across the sky.
A familiar sound of metal plates grinding together revealed yet another man, much larger in size- a walking fortress.Everything, except for his head, was covered in scratched, dented, and for the most part, well-used armor. His cold silver eyes, matching his long grey ponytail, shifted to the cowled man's form.
"Weren't these friends of yours?..." the large man's monotone voice, despite his size, came out barely a whisper. The frown turned to a slight grimace,"They've chosen their side... to not be with us is to be against us..."
"Your call boss, " Kalusyo replied, his steel pauldrons heaving up and downwards in a slight shrug. Starting towards the nearest tent, the warrior tightened his grip on the giant hammer he wielded, causing his gauntlets to creak as the metal grinded mercilessly against the wooden handle.
"Wait..." The voice emitted calmly- some what frighteningly patient- from the cowl, "... one of us is unsure..."Turning, the cowl faced a third form, smaller in size than the warrior and himself. "Having second thoughts?... Our will must not falter now..." His hand, reached out, resting on the shoulder of the smaller figure.
Yet another flash of light jolted the horizon,illuminating the entire wood. The woman looked up into the cowl, her raven colored hair slicked down against her face. As she stared in to the cowl, she contemplated the events which were to come, not needing to see the face of the man to know the sorts of demons ran rampant within him.
The masked man reached up and slowly pulled back the cowl, his fiery red hair falling about his face, his bright green eyes emblazoned,
"Coralie... we've done so much for the Alliance, for Azeroth... we must not abandon our mission now..."
[The thread continues with various authors from the Stormwraiths and the Retribution of Arathor contributing here...(( http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=147516&ForumID=714717&TabID=1252511&Replies=33&TopicID=5160096 ))
Win or Die
[Shortly after, I chose to introduce a new side and dilema for the man Kri'ton Kalusyo... the Compulsion. A demonic/symbiotic force (nothing too far fetched, a special kind of burning legion cretin) just looking for another avenue to eradicating all life on Azeroth...]
The very land itself had been torn asunder... -the arcane torrents overpowering the ancient resolve of earth and the like. Bits of rock and rubble now floated through he air, no longer in control of themselves, and hopelessly smashed into a jagged rock face. The very sky was blackened -a void- as if it drained the very light from everything, swallowing it into nonexistence.
This truly was a land of desolation, however if one were stubborn enough to not accept these conditions and turn back, whatever bounty that could be yielded would very well turn quite the profit.
One such individual, a silver-haired man, blatantly defied all of these obstacles. An enormous axe strapped to his back, he climbed- the once smooth surfaces of his metal armor now scuffed, scratched, and dented. A strong gust ripped across the flat vertical rock face, barreling towards him. As he clenched his teeth, he flattened himself against the stone as much as the near-impossible hold his fingers and toes had on it would let him.
He could feel the uncontrolled arcane energy bristling in the air as it rushed across his bare face, pulling at him, its silent whisper begged his aching muscles to release their hold... -to give up.
"No thanks," Kalusyo grunted, tilting his head upward as he searched for his next handhold, " ... I enjoy living a bit too much." Despite himself, he smiled.
It soon faded as he continued up the steep incline. The visions which had brought him to this place were no laughing matter, the unimagined voice in his head something new, yet for some reason VERY familiar. A dull pain began to form in his knees,
"No... not now." he muttered, "Just a little further..." Of that he wasn't really sure, he had no idea what was pulling him here or where he would find it. Even more frightening though, he had NO idea how much longer his strength would last. Tasks he could accomplish before with no difficulty proved to be extremely challenging as of late. The only thing that drove him now was his determination to find what was plaguing his mind. The answer to the questions the voice had been asking him for what now seemed to be nights on end.
He reached upward, and suddenly realized he had climbed directly to an opening in the side of the rock face. This was definitely the place. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up on end. A power, so rejuvenating, urged him on.
Hauling himself up into the cave, he lay on the stone floor for a bit, catching his breath. He could feel his heart begin to pump even faster, the blood rushing through his veins with newfound vigor. -He definitely was not alone.
He could sense 'it', but all his eyes revealed was utter darkness before him. "Hm..." he spoke aloud with a smirk, "... -so, what now?"
"Now, we will reacquaint ourselves with one another..."
"What the-?!" The axe was no longer on Kalusyo's back, but raised high in front of him as he took a tentative step backward.
"-I wouldn't do that if I were you... not too much room and it's a loooooong way down." The voice jested, the very sound of it dripping with evil.
"Who are you?! Reveal yourself!" Kalusyo demanded, his eyes darting back and forth scanning the darkness for any forms of movement. Nothing.
"What? You don't remember me? I'm crushed... -Kri'ton. It's me, your old friend. We have sooo much history together... -the ravaged towns, burned bodies. Oh, what fun!"
"Kri'ton? You know my name?! No one calls me by that anymore, not in years..." Kalusyo said, continuing to scan the interior of the cave as he formed scenario after scenario of how to combat this hidden threat.
Then he noticed... -the cave wasn't dark at all. Something was just before him, a black... cloud. It was blocking his view of the rest of the cave. Backing away a bit, his eyes widened as the darkness moved forward to fill the space he had occupied before. This was 'it', what had been speaking to him... -it had been RIGHT in front of him all along!
"Kri'ton, I am hurt. You truly do not remember me?! I am your old friend... Now let me think, what was I called when we last met?... -OH, that's right!.. " the tone of the voice went from taunting and jovial to outright wicked and ominous, ".... -The Compulsion."
The name alone unlocked something within the veteran warrior, and he fell to his knees clutching the sides of his head. His axe fell beside him, sending sparks flying in every direction, casting shadows on various rock surfaces inside the small enclosure. One moved- moved as if separate from the others, towards Kalusyo's crouched form.
"Ahhhh.... NOW you remember, " the voice taunted, "... and so now you MUST surely know why I have returned..."
Images, voices, emotions... memories... -all of these things- cascaded over Kalusyo as he knelt, eyes closed tightly. He suddenly felt the absence of something inside of him, something valuable. He remembered the pain, the offer, the power, the cost... -the sacrifice. "No..." he groaned ".. it.. -it's not possible."
"OH NO!.... No, it is QUITE possible, I assure you Kri'ton. You are truly one lucky man. Somehow, you managed to capture part of my essence in that explosion so long ago, and you lived on..." The Compulsion quiets, as if trying to figure things out itself, "-FOR ANOTHER ONE HUNDRED AND TEN YEARS!" It roared, the shadow on the wall seeming to lunge out at Kalusyo for a moment, before slinking back.
Kalusyo raised his head, his eyes reddened, his face streaked with tears. They were not dreams- not a single one. The were all memories... of another time, another place, another world. As he pushed himself up to one knee, he sighed.
"I am a different man now. Things are different. I have no need of you any longer..." The words left him, and seemed to be sucked right out of the cave by the howling winds outside. A faint chuckle could be heard, which quickly grew to a mocking laughter.
"I beg to differ, Kri'ton. You and I both KNOW how things as of late have been for you. Suddenly tired all the time, having new pains in different places everyday..." the voice pauses for a moment, allowing Kalusyo to think about it, "... Face it. You have had me as a part of you for SO long, once my essence within you expired you began to die without it... -that's right. You are DYING, Kri'ton." The Compulsion said flatly. Kalusyo sighed, but said nothing. It was true. Slowly standing, he folded his arms,
"All men die."
"True..." It's tone suddenly became cordial, "... however, YOU were more than a man. Remember?! With me, you might as well have been a GOD! Men feared you! You were unstoppable! Well, except for that one brown-skinned fellow... " The Compulsion pauses again, "..-hm. But that's beside the point!"
Kalusyo turned his back on the black form, putting it behind him, and stared out into the lightning storm, bright flashes reflecting off of his armor. The voice's volume decreases,
"It doesn't have to end, Kri'ton. You have so much to live for now. Your new associates and their cause... your political and military influence, compliments of your friend who wields demons on a whim- I sure would like to pick THAT guy's brain..." The Compulsion chuckled, "...-seriously, between you and me.... He's got issues."
Kalusyo's face remained expressionless as he continued to stare away, saying nothing. The voice continues,
".... oh. And that sweet little tart you've been cavorting around with lately," Kalusyo's eyes widen and he slowly turns, ".. I wouldn't mind picking a bit more than her brain, heh, if you know what I-" The Compulsion's perverse, mocking tone is drowned out by Kalusyo's roar as he reached down and grabbed the axe. He brought it up in front of himself in a large arc, cutting through the shifting darkness. Nothing.
"Whoa, whoa! Whoa! Calm yourself! Why are you getting so upset? It's useless... you are a dead man, Kri'ton. You will be die and she WILL find another to take your place at night!" the voice yelled back at him, "... that's the way things are. BUT.... -you can change it.."
Kalusyo lowered the axe, his head bowing, shoulders slumped, "... My soul is lost either way, " he sighed, dropping the axe again, "What is it you want me to do?" The darkness before him parted like smoke, revealing a gleaming black helmet and a large blade, ablaze with what seemed to be an eternal flame.
"It's simple... same deal as before," The Compulsion said, the shadows closing behind Kalusyo as he stepped towards the armaments, "... But with a MUCH better incentive for YOU this time around... It's actually quite a brilliant idea, I'm very proud of myself. Tell me what you think..." It began to laugh, as Kalusyo picked up the helmet and slowly lowered it onto his head...
The horse lazily clomped down the steep incline, every now and then it's weakened joints giving way, causing it to stumble - nearly toppling Kalusyo over. Looking down at the beast's frail form, he frowned. Indeed, the horse was faithful, no doubt about that, but good intentions can get one only so far. The steed's body was practically useless, rendering it's desire to fulfill it's purpose irrelevant. Tugging on the reins, he dismounted, and patted the horses neck,
"I know exactly how you feel..." he muttered, pulling the bit from it's mouth and tossing it aside. Kneeling to undo the saddle straps, he paused. Not a single pain or crack. Standing up and down a few times he slowly shook his head and undid the buckles, letting the saddle fall from the beasts back to the ground. His body felt brand new, invigorated.
'But at what price?....' he thought as he gave the horses rear a good swat, watching it trot away for a short while until it slowed completely as the short adrenaline rush quickly expired. The horse's head turned to face him,
"GO!" he yelled, frowning as it resumed it's lazy stride, "... go find a place to die." That had been him, only hours ago, but he had a chance to preserve his existence... -for a second time. He could be immortal.
Something inside of him ignited, sending a warm rush to every part of his being. A primal desire to survive welled up from within as he took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes. The Compulsion's directives resonating in his mind, he spoke them aloud,
"....there is a source. A relic, and you know where to find it. Its untapped fountain of power is more than enough to sustain us for eternity!" As he spoke, the small breaks in his skin around his eyes began to grow smooth, the wrinkles on his brow fading. His heart began pounding, the noise of it rivaling that of the voices in his head, "Give me life. Of my own... so that I may live freely - alongside you - ...forever."
As Kalusyo spoke the last word, his eyes opened, blazing with determination as he stared at some unseen enemy, "I will NOT die. I WILL live forever..." The faint flapping of wings could be heard, and Kalusyo grinned as his gaze turned skyward, "....but first, I'll need a new steed..."
[Kalusyo proceeds to make all sorts of trouble for the Wraiths with his 'bi-polar' antics. Though, his bonding with the demon proves to quite useful in their future... More to come!]
The very land itself had been torn asunder... -the arcane torrents overpowering the ancient resolve of earth and the like. Bits of rock and rubble now floated through he air, no longer in control of themselves, and hopelessly smashed into a jagged rock face. The very sky was blackened -a void- as if it drained the very light from everything, swallowing it into nonexistence.
This truly was a land of desolation, however if one were stubborn enough to not accept these conditions and turn back, whatever bounty that could be yielded would very well turn quite the profit.
One such individual, a silver-haired man, blatantly defied all of these obstacles. An enormous axe strapped to his back, he climbed- the once smooth surfaces of his metal armor now scuffed, scratched, and dented. A strong gust ripped across the flat vertical rock face, barreling towards him. As he clenched his teeth, he flattened himself against the stone as much as the near-impossible hold his fingers and toes had on it would let him.
He could feel the uncontrolled arcane energy bristling in the air as it rushed across his bare face, pulling at him, its silent whisper begged his aching muscles to release their hold... -to give up.
"No thanks," Kalusyo grunted, tilting his head upward as he searched for his next handhold, " ... I enjoy living a bit too much." Despite himself, he smiled.
It soon faded as he continued up the steep incline. The visions which had brought him to this place were no laughing matter, the unimagined voice in his head something new, yet for some reason VERY familiar. A dull pain began to form in his knees,
"No... not now." he muttered, "Just a little further..." Of that he wasn't really sure, he had no idea what was pulling him here or where he would find it. Even more frightening though, he had NO idea how much longer his strength would last. Tasks he could accomplish before with no difficulty proved to be extremely challenging as of late. The only thing that drove him now was his determination to find what was plaguing his mind. The answer to the questions the voice had been asking him for what now seemed to be nights on end.
He reached upward, and suddenly realized he had climbed directly to an opening in the side of the rock face. This was definitely the place. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up on end. A power, so rejuvenating, urged him on.
Hauling himself up into the cave, he lay on the stone floor for a bit, catching his breath. He could feel his heart begin to pump even faster, the blood rushing through his veins with newfound vigor. -He definitely was not alone.
He could sense 'it', but all his eyes revealed was utter darkness before him. "Hm..." he spoke aloud with a smirk, "... -so, what now?"
"Now, we will reacquaint ourselves with one another..."
"What the-?!" The axe was no longer on Kalusyo's back, but raised high in front of him as he took a tentative step backward.
"-I wouldn't do that if I were you... not too much room and it's a loooooong way down." The voice jested, the very sound of it dripping with evil.
"Who are you?! Reveal yourself!" Kalusyo demanded, his eyes darting back and forth scanning the darkness for any forms of movement. Nothing.
"What? You don't remember me? I'm crushed... -Kri'ton. It's me, your old friend. We have sooo much history together... -the ravaged towns, burned bodies. Oh, what fun!"
"Kri'ton? You know my name?! No one calls me by that anymore, not in years..." Kalusyo said, continuing to scan the interior of the cave as he formed scenario after scenario of how to combat this hidden threat.
Then he noticed... -the cave wasn't dark at all. Something was just before him, a black... cloud. It was blocking his view of the rest of the cave. Backing away a bit, his eyes widened as the darkness moved forward to fill the space he had occupied before. This was 'it', what had been speaking to him... -it had been RIGHT in front of him all along!
"Kri'ton, I am hurt. You truly do not remember me?! I am your old friend... Now let me think, what was I called when we last met?... -OH, that's right!.. " the tone of the voice went from taunting and jovial to outright wicked and ominous, ".... -The Compulsion."
The name alone unlocked something within the veteran warrior, and he fell to his knees clutching the sides of his head. His axe fell beside him, sending sparks flying in every direction, casting shadows on various rock surfaces inside the small enclosure. One moved- moved as if separate from the others, towards Kalusyo's crouched form.
"Ahhhh.... NOW you remember, " the voice taunted, "... and so now you MUST surely know why I have returned..."
Images, voices, emotions... memories... -all of these things- cascaded over Kalusyo as he knelt, eyes closed tightly. He suddenly felt the absence of something inside of him, something valuable. He remembered the pain, the offer, the power, the cost... -the sacrifice. "No..." he groaned ".. it.. -it's not possible."
"OH NO!.... No, it is QUITE possible, I assure you Kri'ton. You are truly one lucky man. Somehow, you managed to capture part of my essence in that explosion so long ago, and you lived on..." The Compulsion quiets, as if trying to figure things out itself, "-FOR ANOTHER ONE HUNDRED AND TEN YEARS!" It roared, the shadow on the wall seeming to lunge out at Kalusyo for a moment, before slinking back.
Kalusyo raised his head, his eyes reddened, his face streaked with tears. They were not dreams- not a single one. The were all memories... of another time, another place, another world. As he pushed himself up to one knee, he sighed.
"I am a different man now. Things are different. I have no need of you any longer..." The words left him, and seemed to be sucked right out of the cave by the howling winds outside. A faint chuckle could be heard, which quickly grew to a mocking laughter.
"I beg to differ, Kri'ton. You and I both KNOW how things as of late have been for you. Suddenly tired all the time, having new pains in different places everyday..." the voice pauses for a moment, allowing Kalusyo to think about it, "... Face it. You have had me as a part of you for SO long, once my essence within you expired you began to die without it... -that's right. You are DYING, Kri'ton." The Compulsion said flatly. Kalusyo sighed, but said nothing. It was true. Slowly standing, he folded his arms,
"All men die."
"True..." It's tone suddenly became cordial, "... however, YOU were more than a man. Remember?! With me, you might as well have been a GOD! Men feared you! You were unstoppable! Well, except for that one brown-skinned fellow... " The Compulsion pauses again, "..-hm. But that's beside the point!"
Kalusyo turned his back on the black form, putting it behind him, and stared out into the lightning storm, bright flashes reflecting off of his armor. The voice's volume decreases,
"It doesn't have to end, Kri'ton. You have so much to live for now. Your new associates and their cause... your political and military influence, compliments of your friend who wields demons on a whim- I sure would like to pick THAT guy's brain..." The Compulsion chuckled, "...-seriously, between you and me.... He's got issues."
Kalusyo's face remained expressionless as he continued to stare away, saying nothing. The voice continues,
".... oh. And that sweet little tart you've been cavorting around with lately," Kalusyo's eyes widen and he slowly turns, ".. I wouldn't mind picking a bit more than her brain, heh, if you know what I-" The Compulsion's perverse, mocking tone is drowned out by Kalusyo's roar as he reached down and grabbed the axe. He brought it up in front of himself in a large arc, cutting through the shifting darkness. Nothing.
"Whoa, whoa! Whoa! Calm yourself! Why are you getting so upset? It's useless... you are a dead man, Kri'ton. You will be die and she WILL find another to take your place at night!" the voice yelled back at him, "... that's the way things are. BUT.... -you can change it.."
Kalusyo lowered the axe, his head bowing, shoulders slumped, "... My soul is lost either way, " he sighed, dropping the axe again, "What is it you want me to do?" The darkness before him parted like smoke, revealing a gleaming black helmet and a large blade, ablaze with what seemed to be an eternal flame.
"It's simple... same deal as before," The Compulsion said, the shadows closing behind Kalusyo as he stepped towards the armaments, "... But with a MUCH better incentive for YOU this time around... It's actually quite a brilliant idea, I'm very proud of myself. Tell me what you think..." It began to laugh, as Kalusyo picked up the helmet and slowly lowered it onto his head...
The horse lazily clomped down the steep incline, every now and then it's weakened joints giving way, causing it to stumble - nearly toppling Kalusyo over. Looking down at the beast's frail form, he frowned. Indeed, the horse was faithful, no doubt about that, but good intentions can get one only so far. The steed's body was practically useless, rendering it's desire to fulfill it's purpose irrelevant. Tugging on the reins, he dismounted, and patted the horses neck,
"I know exactly how you feel..." he muttered, pulling the bit from it's mouth and tossing it aside. Kneeling to undo the saddle straps, he paused. Not a single pain or crack. Standing up and down a few times he slowly shook his head and undid the buckles, letting the saddle fall from the beasts back to the ground. His body felt brand new, invigorated.
'But at what price?....' he thought as he gave the horses rear a good swat, watching it trot away for a short while until it slowed completely as the short adrenaline rush quickly expired. The horse's head turned to face him,
"GO!" he yelled, frowning as it resumed it's lazy stride, "... go find a place to die." That had been him, only hours ago, but he had a chance to preserve his existence... -for a second time. He could be immortal.
Something inside of him ignited, sending a warm rush to every part of his being. A primal desire to survive welled up from within as he took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes. The Compulsion's directives resonating in his mind, he spoke them aloud,
"....there is a source. A relic, and you know where to find it. Its untapped fountain of power is more than enough to sustain us for eternity!" As he spoke, the small breaks in his skin around his eyes began to grow smooth, the wrinkles on his brow fading. His heart began pounding, the noise of it rivaling that of the voices in his head, "Give me life. Of my own... so that I may live freely - alongside you - ...forever."
As Kalusyo spoke the last word, his eyes opened, blazing with determination as he stared at some unseen enemy, "I will NOT die. I WILL live forever..." The faint flapping of wings could be heard, and Kalusyo grinned as his gaze turned skyward, "....but first, I'll need a new steed..."
[Kalusyo proceeds to make all sorts of trouble for the Wraiths with his 'bi-polar' antics. Though, his bonding with the demon proves to quite useful in their future... More to come!]
Win or Die
[The artifact that the Compulsion sent Kalusyo after was sought by another. It wasn't long until the Wraiths were met with a new foe, one Denton Cavanaugh. His ambition for rebellion and involvement with the Scourge proved to be a daunting task for the Wraiths to overcome...]
Barlowe walked into the Command Conference room, and the setting wasn’t that much different from when he had first spoken with Captain Vimes and Commander Samual.
‘No, wait.’ He thought, ‘Something WAS different. Where was Captain Vimes?’ It seemed as if the only ones seated at the conference table were strangers, save for Samual and Cavanaugh. Barlowe could sense a strong magical, aura emitting from one man, whose face was hidden with a hood. Barlowe was certain he’d become acquainted with the man soon enough.
Bracing himself, he took a seat across from Cavanaugh, giving a slight nod to each of the men. The grim expressions he received in return confirmed his suspicions that this was not a pleasant social call of any sort. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his robe, enjoying every moment of this calm before the apparent storm that was soon to come,
“... Gentlemen?” Barlowe ventured.
Samual sat up with a start, “You know damn well why you’re here! Don’t play ignorant wi-“ he was cut off by Cavanaugh’s outstretched hand,. “Korsaire, where is Kalusyo? Your.... ‘second’?”
Barlowe tensed, so they HAD noticed, “... Lord Cavanaugh, Kalusyo is a free-spirited man. He is QUITE capable of leaving without letti-“ The hand raises again, and Barlowe respectfully quiets. He’d played all of his cards. His hand was empty. Sighing, he shrugs, “I honestly have no idea...”
Samual tosses a scroll onto the table at Barlowe, “Booty Bay... He was last seen there.” He spat. “He’s wanted! Seems he had a part in a rather brutal attack on six or so sailors. Witnesses says Kalusyo is directly responsible for their condition...” Barlowe lowers his head, shaking it slowly. Cavanaugh continues,
“I’ve read the reports, Korsaire. They were nearly beaten to death... -SIX OF THEM!” He yelled the last part, slamming his fist onto the table.
“But, he had to have had a reason... just cause..” Barlowe began, but was again cut off by another scroll.
“-There’s your REASON!”
Barlowe unrolled the scroll and immediately recognized its contents, “You’re not the only one with connections here, Korsaire.” Cavanaugh sneered as he leaned across the table, “You didn’t think I’d find out about your little research ‘project’?” Barlowe glared back at him,
“Then you must also know that the artifact has no significance as far as Kalusyo’s situation is concerned. He’s neither trained nor talented in the arts of the arcane as well as the necromancer!” Barlowe could feel his temperature inside begin to raise, ‘These damn political, bureaucratic bastards! What did they know?!’
“But he DOES have the artifact, no?” Samual pressed.. Sighing, Barlowe nodded- that had been his mistake. Samual continued prying, “And he is traveling with a young woman? A pirate? A necromancer? No?!”
‘Lynessa.’ At this, Barlowe looked up, “I can neither confirm nor deny such-“ Another scroll landed before him, and he didn’t have to open it to know they had proof on that matter already.
“Furthermore, our observers have taken notice of something about her as well... a ‘change’, so to speak.” Cavanaugh said, leaning back again, looking like the cat that had eaten the mouse.
“-She is with child.” A dry, cracked voice emitted from the black hood pulled low over the mysterious man’s face.
“What?! How could you possibly....?” Barlowe’s voice trailed off. Apparently he was dealing with a powerful individual; sensing new life in a woman was a trivial task for him. Barlowe could feel the intense energy rolling in waves off of the seated figure.
Samual continued, “ALSO, he’s been seen with a certain ‘assassin’ of sorts. You man know him?...”
‘Marques.’ The name immediately came to Barlowe’s mind, but he remained silent. “...and in case you did not know, there have been Theramore sentries KILLED! Throats cut, from ear to ear. The wounds were dagger inflicted...”
Barlowe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Things did not look good for Kalusyo at all. Glancing across the table, he noticed the slight smile on Cavanaugh’s lips behind his steepled fingers. As if oblivious to their silent challenges to one another, Samual prattled on, “... he MUST be brought in for questioning! Kalusyo... or the woman.”
Barlowe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “I told you, I do NOT know where he is...” Cavanaugh’s fist once again slams onto the table,
“Perhaps you don’t understand me you young, ignorant FOOL! You either bring us Kalusyo, or you will be brought up on charges of hiding a suspected criminal and conspiracy against the king of Stormwind!” Barlowe’s eyes widened as Cavanaugh continued, “... you yourself will be thrown into the stockades, and your precious ‘unit’ will be either disbanded, or will fall under MY command!”
Barlowe stared, “... you can’t do that.”
Cavanaugh chuckled, “Oh, believe me Korsaire, there is little I can NOT do.. Bring me Kalusyo, and the artifact.” Barlowe glared at the other man as he stood, fists clenched. Turning quickly, he stormed out of the Conference Hall.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
As the fiery-red haired man made his exit, Cavanaugh slumped backwards in his chair. Sighing heavily, he turned to Samual, “He... is strong willed. CAN we follow through should he decide not to deliver Kalusyo to us?” Commander Samual chuckled wickedly,
“Oh, we’ve enough here to raise a few eyebrows, and I’m sure we can ‘uncover’ some more- enough to take him down from his high horse...”
“Whatever happens is of no never mind to me,” the deep voice cracked from within the hood, and both of the other men turned to look at the figure, “.. Do what you will with this... ‘Korsaire’, but I MUST have my artifact back... -or it will be the two of YOU who will be removed from your high horses...”
[The amazing 'Theramore' thread can be found in it's full glory here: (( http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=147516&ForumID=714717&TabID=1252511&TopicID=4983569&Page=4 ))
Barlowe walked into the Command Conference room, and the setting wasn’t that much different from when he had first spoken with Captain Vimes and Commander Samual.
‘No, wait.’ He thought, ‘Something WAS different. Where was Captain Vimes?’ It seemed as if the only ones seated at the conference table were strangers, save for Samual and Cavanaugh. Barlowe could sense a strong magical, aura emitting from one man, whose face was hidden with a hood. Barlowe was certain he’d become acquainted with the man soon enough.
Bracing himself, he took a seat across from Cavanaugh, giving a slight nod to each of the men. The grim expressions he received in return confirmed his suspicions that this was not a pleasant social call of any sort. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his robe, enjoying every moment of this calm before the apparent storm that was soon to come,
“... Gentlemen?” Barlowe ventured.
Samual sat up with a start, “You know damn well why you’re here! Don’t play ignorant wi-“ he was cut off by Cavanaugh’s outstretched hand,. “Korsaire, where is Kalusyo? Your.... ‘second’?”
Barlowe tensed, so they HAD noticed, “... Lord Cavanaugh, Kalusyo is a free-spirited man. He is QUITE capable of leaving without letti-“ The hand raises again, and Barlowe respectfully quiets. He’d played all of his cards. His hand was empty. Sighing, he shrugs, “I honestly have no idea...”
Samual tosses a scroll onto the table at Barlowe, “Booty Bay... He was last seen there.” He spat. “He’s wanted! Seems he had a part in a rather brutal attack on six or so sailors. Witnesses says Kalusyo is directly responsible for their condition...” Barlowe lowers his head, shaking it slowly. Cavanaugh continues,
“I’ve read the reports, Korsaire. They were nearly beaten to death... -SIX OF THEM!” He yelled the last part, slamming his fist onto the table.
“But, he had to have had a reason... just cause..” Barlowe began, but was again cut off by another scroll.
“-There’s your REASON!”
Barlowe unrolled the scroll and immediately recognized its contents, “You’re not the only one with connections here, Korsaire.” Cavanaugh sneered as he leaned across the table, “You didn’t think I’d find out about your little research ‘project’?” Barlowe glared back at him,
“Then you must also know that the artifact has no significance as far as Kalusyo’s situation is concerned. He’s neither trained nor talented in the arts of the arcane as well as the necromancer!” Barlowe could feel his temperature inside begin to raise, ‘These damn political, bureaucratic bastards! What did they know?!’
“But he DOES have the artifact, no?” Samual pressed.. Sighing, Barlowe nodded- that had been his mistake. Samual continued prying, “And he is traveling with a young woman? A pirate? A necromancer? No?!”
‘Lynessa.’ At this, Barlowe looked up, “I can neither confirm nor deny such-“ Another scroll landed before him, and he didn’t have to open it to know they had proof on that matter already.
“Furthermore, our observers have taken notice of something about her as well... a ‘change’, so to speak.” Cavanaugh said, leaning back again, looking like the cat that had eaten the mouse.
“-She is with child.” A dry, cracked voice emitted from the black hood pulled low over the mysterious man’s face.
“What?! How could you possibly....?” Barlowe’s voice trailed off. Apparently he was dealing with a powerful individual; sensing new life in a woman was a trivial task for him. Barlowe could feel the intense energy rolling in waves off of the seated figure.
Samual continued, “ALSO, he’s been seen with a certain ‘assassin’ of sorts. You man know him?...”
‘Marques.’ The name immediately came to Barlowe’s mind, but he remained silent. “...and in case you did not know, there have been Theramore sentries KILLED! Throats cut, from ear to ear. The wounds were dagger inflicted...”
Barlowe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Things did not look good for Kalusyo at all. Glancing across the table, he noticed the slight smile on Cavanaugh’s lips behind his steepled fingers. As if oblivious to their silent challenges to one another, Samual prattled on, “... he MUST be brought in for questioning! Kalusyo... or the woman.”
Barlowe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “I told you, I do NOT know where he is...” Cavanaugh’s fist once again slams onto the table,
“Perhaps you don’t understand me you young, ignorant FOOL! You either bring us Kalusyo, or you will be brought up on charges of hiding a suspected criminal and conspiracy against the king of Stormwind!” Barlowe’s eyes widened as Cavanaugh continued, “... you yourself will be thrown into the stockades, and your precious ‘unit’ will be either disbanded, or will fall under MY command!”
Barlowe stared, “... you can’t do that.”
Cavanaugh chuckled, “Oh, believe me Korsaire, there is little I can NOT do.. Bring me Kalusyo, and the artifact.” Barlowe glared at the other man as he stood, fists clenched. Turning quickly, he stormed out of the Conference Hall.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
As the fiery-red haired man made his exit, Cavanaugh slumped backwards in his chair. Sighing heavily, he turned to Samual, “He... is strong willed. CAN we follow through should he decide not to deliver Kalusyo to us?” Commander Samual chuckled wickedly,
“Oh, we’ve enough here to raise a few eyebrows, and I’m sure we can ‘uncover’ some more- enough to take him down from his high horse...”
“Whatever happens is of no never mind to me,” the deep voice cracked from within the hood, and both of the other men turned to look at the figure, “.. Do what you will with this... ‘Korsaire’, but I MUST have my artifact back... -or it will be the two of YOU who will be removed from your high horses...”
[The amazing 'Theramore' thread can be found in it's full glory here: (( http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=147516&ForumID=714717&TabID=1252511&TopicID=4983569&Page=4 ))
Win or Die
[The orginal Theramore thread was SO large that Guildportal forums couldn't support the continuation on the same thread. So a second was made, and proved to be just as eventful, with a exciting and climactic conclusion! Thanks to all of the awesome friends and authors that contributed!]
The powerful necromancer, Giacomo.
Barlowe had read a few scrolls and tomes on the spell-wielder's studies, as well as his acts throughout Azeroth. If this man was truly who Barlowe believed him to be... this could be the Wraith's greatest challenge yet.
"You have something that belongs to me.." the dry, cracked and curse-sounding voice called out across the compound.
'He's not talking to me...' Barlowe's mind raced, '.. but Kalusyo doesn't have the artif-'
His gaze shifted to where Giacomo was pointing. Kalusyo was slowly moving away from Cavanaugh's form, Despair pointed directly at the shrouded figure,
"Belongs to you?! HAH!" The silver-haired warrior taunted, continuing to edge sideways towards... -Something clicked in Barlowe's head. Nymwyae... - the Spirit of Redemption. It's light was fading, but maybe, just maybe... The Necromancer's full attention was on Kalusyo,
"Get ready love.. we're in for a-" before Barlowe could finish, the warrior charged forward, a bolt of light slamming into his back and increasing his momentum. The Prayer of Mending!
"WRAITHS! SUPPORT!" Barlowe commanded, his emerald eyes focusing as he began chanting one curse after another.
The sword was raised high, perfect position for the mortal strike. Kalusyo could feel the power of the light resonating through him, silently thanking the priestess for her blessing. He could hear the command shouted behind him, and then there was silence,
'You fool, ' Giacomo said haughtily, 'Did you think I would fall that easily?...' The voice was ageless, racking Kalusyo's mind. His stance faltered.
'Simple man.'
One sleeve of the black robe raised in front of Kalusyo, "Oh, sh-" The blast sent him reeling off of his feet and through the air. Landing on his shoulder, he rolled upright, grunting. He could sense it... the immense energy building within Giacomo, "... fel."
Rushing forward, he kicked a shield from one of the destroyed undead up into the air, grabbing it mid-stride. Dropping to a knee beside Nymwyae, he looked away from Giacomo, the shadow energy pulsing around the dark form growing more intense...
"GET BEHIND ME!"
"Damn." Barlowe had watched as Kalusyo was hurled backwards, his curses seeming completely ineffective against the other necromancer.
And then he felt it. Without looking, he reached out with one arm and grabbed Coralie, pulling her behind his own body and throwing his hand up, "Stay close love... WRAITHS, TAKE COVER!" His own palm glowed bright purple as he chanted, putting a ward up between himself and Giacomo.
The wave began at Giacomo's feet, spiraling outward tearing up the dust and cobblestones in its path. Screams of souls in anguish howled throughout as it grew, heading directly for the kneeling warrior and steadfast warlock.
It was almost as if the Nether itself had come to Azeroth, the dark energy colliding with the outstretched shield. Kalusyo felt the dirt beneath his feet begin to give way,
"Oh, FEL NO!" he roared, throwing his body forward and digging in. If he could tilt the shield forward at JUST the right angle... maybe he could reflect....?
The ward had held against the initial onslaught. Now, Barlowe had to focus even harder to maintain it... bits of dust and rock pelted his hand and face, but he continued muttering the incantations, pulling his wife closer. A bit of sweat formed on his brow, his jaw set. How long could he stand against this...?
"GIVE ME WHAT I ASK AND I MIGHT CONSIDER SPARING YOUR INSIGNIFICANT LIVES!"
[The entire second half of the Theramore thread can be found here: (( http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=147516&ForumID=714717&TabID=1252511&TopicID=5355544&Page=6 )) Again thanks to all of the friends who contributed! Giacomo was defeated, but the Wraiths were deemed ineffective and were disbanded. More to come!]
The powerful necromancer, Giacomo.
Barlowe had read a few scrolls and tomes on the spell-wielder's studies, as well as his acts throughout Azeroth. If this man was truly who Barlowe believed him to be... this could be the Wraith's greatest challenge yet.
"You have something that belongs to me.." the dry, cracked and curse-sounding voice called out across the compound.
'He's not talking to me...' Barlowe's mind raced, '.. but Kalusyo doesn't have the artif-'
His gaze shifted to where Giacomo was pointing. Kalusyo was slowly moving away from Cavanaugh's form, Despair pointed directly at the shrouded figure,
"Belongs to you?! HAH!" The silver-haired warrior taunted, continuing to edge sideways towards... -Something clicked in Barlowe's head. Nymwyae... - the Spirit of Redemption. It's light was fading, but maybe, just maybe... The Necromancer's full attention was on Kalusyo,
"Get ready love.. we're in for a-" before Barlowe could finish, the warrior charged forward, a bolt of light slamming into his back and increasing his momentum. The Prayer of Mending!
"WRAITHS! SUPPORT!" Barlowe commanded, his emerald eyes focusing as he began chanting one curse after another.
The sword was raised high, perfect position for the mortal strike. Kalusyo could feel the power of the light resonating through him, silently thanking the priestess for her blessing. He could hear the command shouted behind him, and then there was silence,
'You fool, ' Giacomo said haughtily, 'Did you think I would fall that easily?...' The voice was ageless, racking Kalusyo's mind. His stance faltered.
'Simple man.'
One sleeve of the black robe raised in front of Kalusyo, "Oh, sh-" The blast sent him reeling off of his feet and through the air. Landing on his shoulder, he rolled upright, grunting. He could sense it... the immense energy building within Giacomo, "... fel."
Rushing forward, he kicked a shield from one of the destroyed undead up into the air, grabbing it mid-stride. Dropping to a knee beside Nymwyae, he looked away from Giacomo, the shadow energy pulsing around the dark form growing more intense...
"GET BEHIND ME!"
"Damn." Barlowe had watched as Kalusyo was hurled backwards, his curses seeming completely ineffective against the other necromancer.
And then he felt it. Without looking, he reached out with one arm and grabbed Coralie, pulling her behind his own body and throwing his hand up, "Stay close love... WRAITHS, TAKE COVER!" His own palm glowed bright purple as he chanted, putting a ward up between himself and Giacomo.
The wave began at Giacomo's feet, spiraling outward tearing up the dust and cobblestones in its path. Screams of souls in anguish howled throughout as it grew, heading directly for the kneeling warrior and steadfast warlock.
It was almost as if the Nether itself had come to Azeroth, the dark energy colliding with the outstretched shield. Kalusyo felt the dirt beneath his feet begin to give way,
"Oh, FEL NO!" he roared, throwing his body forward and digging in. If he could tilt the shield forward at JUST the right angle... maybe he could reflect....?
The ward had held against the initial onslaught. Now, Barlowe had to focus even harder to maintain it... bits of dust and rock pelted his hand and face, but he continued muttering the incantations, pulling his wife closer. A bit of sweat formed on his brow, his jaw set. How long could he stand against this...?
"GIVE ME WHAT I ASK AND I MIGHT CONSIDER SPARING YOUR INSIGNIFICANT LIVES!"
[The entire second half of the Theramore thread can be found here: (( http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=147516&ForumID=714717&TabID=1252511&TopicID=5355544&Page=6 )) Again thanks to all of the friends who contributed! Giacomo was defeated, but the Wraiths were deemed ineffective and were disbanded. More to come!]
Win or Die
[The Stormwraiths were disbanded, official, but a few weren't quite ready to lay down the mantle.]
Eight months after the disbanding-
The small field was surrounded by a rickety old fence. It barely stood now, the farmer that built it having long moved on to bigger pastures. Gusts of wind swayed the trees, bended the grass, only adding to the serenity of the scene. The sky itself was calm. Large puffy clouds lazily drifted along, sleeping titans in their own right. One couldn’t hope for a nicer day….
Branches crack, twigs snap, and the calm is broken. The rustling in the tree line grows even louder as a slender figure bounds athletically over the mangled fence, and races towards the center of the field. Stopping, it turns, one arm raised, palm extended towards the clearing it had just made in the brush. The incantation was barely audible, but the results were far from unnoticeable. The grass around the figure’s feet began to swish about violently, erratically, as magical energy pulsated through the air.
The spell erupted from the palm in a enormous flash of violet light, sending the cloak and cowl covering the figure’s face backwards, revealing a small, round face, smooth pink skin, soft features… and pointy ears.
"Leave me be!” the blood elf cried, the arcane blast rocketing through the air towards the opening in the tree line just as a white-haired, armor-clad man crashed through, sword raised.
"Oh shi-" was all he managed before the energy surged onto him. Fortunately he managed to swing his shield around in time to absorb most of the blast; however the impact was powerful enough to send him flying back into the trees.
The elf began to prepare another spell, but suddenly grabbed her head and winced, her mind suddenly filled with thoughts of defeat and despair, and she found it took longer to channel her spells. Reaching into her cloak, she withdrew a small dagger and orb, sliding into a fighting stance as the tree line parted yet again. A horse brandishing flame and savage-looking spikes thundered towards her, its rider holding a long sword of his own high above his head.
"Surrender now or face certain death!" The man yelled, his voice obviously magnified by whatever mystical powers he wielded. He swung down at her as his flaming steed neared, but she rolled out of his reach, sending her own blast of energy at his back. It connected, off balancing him enough to teeter him from the beast’s back.
As soon as his shoulder hit the dirt, he rolled, and was standing again, already chanting his next string of spells, his hand flying about in a blur of various gestures. She threw up her wards; frost, fire, arcane. There was no way he could be channeling all three at once. Raising her dagger, she sprinted towards him, she would kill him with this blow. Straight to the heart.
Terror suddenly consumed her. Her pulse quickened, and her glowing green eyes opened wide as they made contact with his own emerald-green ones.
A warlock.
Unable to control herself, she withdrew, shifting direction immediately and racing away from him. Damn him. Her skin began to crawl, her head began to ache, sulfur choking her every breath.
"Submit. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. Tell us what we need to know and we’ll let you go on your way." His voice was calm, but laced with power. The phrase echoed through her mind, blocking out all other thoughts. Blasted humans, so damn confident. So cocky.
Screaming out in rage, she threw her arms out, arcane energy bristling from her entire being. Pointing, she sent a bolt rocketing through the air directly at the red-haired one’s face. He sidestepped, and the bolt went harmlessly past him… right into the raised shield of the white-haired man. Once again, he disappeared into the tree line with an ‘Oof.’ The warlock turned, distracted by his associate’s misfortune, and it was all she needed. Charging again, the elf raised the dagger, aimed for the man’s midsection. She wouldn’t miss this time.
Something tripped her.
She hadn’t seen any roots on the ground in front of her, what had…? As she staggered to her feet, her arm was twisted around violently, her wrist bent to the point of nearly breaking and shoved against her back, dagger pressed against her throat.
"… Drop the knife." A quiet, calm, female voice said from behind, right into her ear. The elf hesitated, but the pressure on her wrist grew and the dagger pressed even harder against the soft skin of her neck. She complied.
"Barlowe, seems she’s willing to talk now." The woman holding her said smugly, apparently speaking to the warlock. He walked over, glancing over his shoulder once again, eyeing the trees.
"Well done, Coralie. Please, just tell us what we wish to know, and we’ll release you. Okay?"
The elf refused to answer, her glowing green eyes glaring hatefully at the one called Barlowe.
"Hm. Well, we’ll just have to detain you until you decide to tell us WHY you tried to kill me. I will even settle for you telling me who commissioned you, but I need you to tell me SOMETHING…."
His tone was calm but insistent. She knew he meant what he said, and would probably keep his word. She did not fear this man, however, nor his associates. Nowhere near as much as the one who sent her. She couldn’t tell. She could lie, but she was almost certain the warlock -this Barlowe-would know. She had no other choice….
"I don’t think she’s going to go anywhere Coralie, you can go ahead and-" He stopped talking and his eyes widened, but it was too late. She had already channeled the spell and the incantation was on her lips.
"RELEASE HER NOW!! GET AWAY, COR-" The field erupted into a bright flash of light, arcane energy erupting from the elf’s small form, engulfing everything surrounding her.
As the dust cleared, Barlowe coughed, struggling to his feet. The other man was there, shield on his back, sword in hand, helping him to stand. Pushing past the much larger man, Barlowe rushed over to where the pair of women had been. There was now a large crater in the earth, all the grass having been obliterated. Peering down into it, Barlowe sighed in relief as his wife looked up at him, wry smile on her face,
"Close one eh?" She winked. Extending his hand, he took hold of her own and helped her out of the hole, "Indeed, but how….?"
"…-I would have thought you wiser than to go off on such perilous encounters without any protection from Elune, noble Korsaires."
The pair turned to see a large feline stalk out into the clearing, its fangs and claws bared, eyeing the two of them warily. Sitting atop of the beast was an elven woman, her warm smile only brightening the holy aura that glowed about her.
"Good to see you too, Nymwyae." The white haired one said, waving to her as he walked over to the pair.
"Indeed, " Coralie echoed, "If it weren’t for your quick thinking and shield, I would have been a goner."
"Goodness knows the one who actually carries a shield was one step behind the whole time, " Barlowe said, chuckling and nudging the larger man with his elbow, "Isn’t that right, Kalusyo?"
"Oh go lay a goat or something, Kid." The white-warrior grinned at the others around him. "Now, back to business…. Who was that elf, and why did she just eradicate herself instead of talk to some nice people like us?"
"Good question." Barlowe said, frowning and rubbing his mustache. "It is unfortunate that she feared her benefactor more than she did us. Or what he would do to her anyway…"
"They must be someone truly wicked." The elf replied, hopping down from the back of her mount and kneeling at the edge of the crater, "Her aura was strong, a skilled magi. Such a loss." She shook her head slowly.
"That’s not our only worry," Coralie spoke, her tone somber. They all turned to look at her, eyebrows raised, "She was a blood elf. Last I heard they were affiliated with the Horde, no? So not only do we have to watch our backs from our own people now, but the Horde as well."
Kalusyo cursed under his breath, turning away and looking at the sky. "Was it worth it, Korsaire?" he demanded. "Worth all of this? We do the right thing, and we’ve made nothing BUT enemies it seems. How do you justify that in your head?" Coralie winced and stepped closer to her husband, who held up a hand to her, nodding slowly,
"I know how you must feel, Kalusyo. I know what you must be thinking, I’m thinking it too. Life WAS good in the Vagabond camp. Relaxing, easygoing, aimless… We’ve all sacrificed a great deal to stand for the ideals of the people against horrors they wouldn’t even begin to believe exist. The road has been long and hard, but you know why I do it? How I justify it all?"
Nymwyae stood, tilting her head to one side. Kalusyo turned back to the group, fixing Barlowe with a level gaze.
"… it’s simple really. Because I can. And I know there are many that cannot. Those of us who are granted the ability to fight -to stand- against those powers that would unravel the very bindings of our way of life, I truly believe have an obligation to protect those who cannot. Our duty. Our purpose…" He held Kalusyo’s gaze with his own.
"Tell me you could have sat idly by and let someone else handle Denton Cavanaugh… Tell me, Kalusyo."
They all visibly shuddered at the memory of the man and the wake he had left on them. The destruction. They had come out on top, but at a great cost.
"Ignorance is bliss." The warrior retorted. Coralie laughed, and the tall elf cracked a smile.
"True," she said, "But we are no longer ignorant, are we? And with knowledge comes power, and with power… responsibility, dear friend."
The large man grunted, hefting his sword over his shoulder and headed back toward the tree line. "I’ll get the horses…."
[Kalusyo and the disbanded Wraiths encounter the 'Wraith Hunters' a group of Horde-mercenaries hired by an undead Cavanaugh, and for a long while, fight for their very survival under harsh conditions. More can be found here: (( http://stormwraiths.guildlaunch.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=1923550&gid=63500 )) The conflict weighs heavy on all of their hearts, and in the end, Kalusyo is forced to lose a bit of himself in a devastating encounter with Barlowe Korsaire...]
The old warrior groaned, opening his eyes. Rolling over onto his stomach, he pushed himself up to hands and knees. His head hurt, BAD. Touching the back of it, he pulled his hand away and grimaced,
'That's alot of blood.' He grunted. The wind blew, throwing dust and soot into his face, bringing him back to the reality of things. Looking up, his eyes widened.
A short distance away, the demonic visage that Barlowe had become stood above the kneeling draenei, his hand locked tight around his throat. Macivh raked at the warlock's grasp, gurgling. His face was swollen, bruised and one of his legs bent at an unnatural angle.
"By the Light..." Kalusyo frowned, "... -let him go, kid! Barlowe, he's your own operative!" He tried to stand, but the wound in the back of his head throbbed, and the ground wouldn't stop spinning.
"He is corrupted. Corruption must be removed. Eradicated..."
"No... you're wrong. Don't-"
"Exterminated!"
"NO!" The demon's hand clutching Macivh's throat ignited, setting the draenei's entire ablaze with flame. Kalusyo held his hand up, shielding his eyes from the harsh glow of the nether flames burning bright.
When the flames subsided, the fiery-haired man stood there, his robes blowing about in the wind, his arm outstretched. Opening his fist, he tilted his hand to one side and a fine ash poured out, drifting down onto a much larger pile at his feet.
"What have you done?" the warrior said quietly from behind him.
"I've become what i've worked so hard to destroy..."
"You are truly lost, kid."
"Vengeance... self-righteousness. They are forms of corruption in their own right.. are they not?"
"We've tried to pull you back, but you just wouldn't let us..."
Barlowe turned, his emerald-green eyes locking with the warrior's silver-blue ones, "I only meant to remove the evil that plagued our people..."
"The path to the nether is paved with good intentions, Barlowe. You KNEW BETTER!"
"I lost her Kalusyo. She's gone."
"That's NO excuse, kid. I thought I taught you better! What would Coralie think of this? ... what would your FATHER say?!"
The warlock's shoulder's slumped, "Kill me."
"What?"
"I can't live without her. I can't live with the shame of what I've become. My soul is lost..."
"Wha- ... no. I wont. You can't ask me to do this..."
"At least do me that last honor, great warrior. To die at your hands would at least give me some peace."
"Kid, I can't..."
"Yes, you can. You've always been there for me. Watching my back, cleaning up my mess. I need this grave mistake to be rectified, and you are the only one I would trust to do it."
Kalusyo slowly drew his blade from it's sheath, his bottom lip trembling.
".. you're like a son to me."
"I know. In a day where so many claim to be heroes, you truly are one. You are mine, Kalusyo."
The two stared at one another, neither of them moving. The warrior's eyes began to fill with tears as he gazed across the warlock's... -nothing.
They were empty.
The young boy he had been hired by all those years ago was gone. The man he had seen stand against the beaurecrats tormenting the people with unrealistic policies and abusing their power... he too was gone. The man he had heard make vows to the farmgirl from Westfall... lost. Nothing remained.
Kalusyo knew that the words Barlowe had spoken were simply intended to placate him, cooerce him. No true emotions supporting a single phrase. However, Kalusyo knew them to be true. The kid was stating what he knew, even if it wasn't what he felt.
Barlowe had died long ago, and only a shell was left standing before him.
"Tell the others that it was an honor..." the warlock said.
"I will."
"And tell Coralie that I love her..."
Kalusyo pressed the tip of his blade to the center of Barlowe's chest, "She knows." He hesitated, looking away.
"Do it."
The warrior continues to look away, fighting back the tears.
"Do it, Kalusyo..."
"Kid, I-"
"DO IT!!!"
Kalusyo's cry shook the ground and rocks all around the two as he lunged forward, running the blade through the warlock and wrapping him into one last embrace.
[The Entire 'Delusion, Death and Dolbain' thread can be found here: (( http://stormwraiths.guildlaunch.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=2358980&gid=63500 )) ]
[Kalusyo has never been the same, driven only by his duty and guilt of past sins. He lives to prove himself worthy of some sort of saving grace, which has brought him to the Servitors... Fin. Hope you like and appreciate the insight!]
Eight months after the disbanding-
The small field was surrounded by a rickety old fence. It barely stood now, the farmer that built it having long moved on to bigger pastures. Gusts of wind swayed the trees, bended the grass, only adding to the serenity of the scene. The sky itself was calm. Large puffy clouds lazily drifted along, sleeping titans in their own right. One couldn’t hope for a nicer day….
Branches crack, twigs snap, and the calm is broken. The rustling in the tree line grows even louder as a slender figure bounds athletically over the mangled fence, and races towards the center of the field. Stopping, it turns, one arm raised, palm extended towards the clearing it had just made in the brush. The incantation was barely audible, but the results were far from unnoticeable. The grass around the figure’s feet began to swish about violently, erratically, as magical energy pulsated through the air.
The spell erupted from the palm in a enormous flash of violet light, sending the cloak and cowl covering the figure’s face backwards, revealing a small, round face, smooth pink skin, soft features… and pointy ears.
"Leave me be!” the blood elf cried, the arcane blast rocketing through the air towards the opening in the tree line just as a white-haired, armor-clad man crashed through, sword raised.
"Oh shi-" was all he managed before the energy surged onto him. Fortunately he managed to swing his shield around in time to absorb most of the blast; however the impact was powerful enough to send him flying back into the trees.
The elf began to prepare another spell, but suddenly grabbed her head and winced, her mind suddenly filled with thoughts of defeat and despair, and she found it took longer to channel her spells. Reaching into her cloak, she withdrew a small dagger and orb, sliding into a fighting stance as the tree line parted yet again. A horse brandishing flame and savage-looking spikes thundered towards her, its rider holding a long sword of his own high above his head.
"Surrender now or face certain death!" The man yelled, his voice obviously magnified by whatever mystical powers he wielded. He swung down at her as his flaming steed neared, but she rolled out of his reach, sending her own blast of energy at his back. It connected, off balancing him enough to teeter him from the beast’s back.
As soon as his shoulder hit the dirt, he rolled, and was standing again, already chanting his next string of spells, his hand flying about in a blur of various gestures. She threw up her wards; frost, fire, arcane. There was no way he could be channeling all three at once. Raising her dagger, she sprinted towards him, she would kill him with this blow. Straight to the heart.
Terror suddenly consumed her. Her pulse quickened, and her glowing green eyes opened wide as they made contact with his own emerald-green ones.
A warlock.
Unable to control herself, she withdrew, shifting direction immediately and racing away from him. Damn him. Her skin began to crawl, her head began to ache, sulfur choking her every breath.
"Submit. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. Tell us what we need to know and we’ll let you go on your way." His voice was calm, but laced with power. The phrase echoed through her mind, blocking out all other thoughts. Blasted humans, so damn confident. So cocky.
Screaming out in rage, she threw her arms out, arcane energy bristling from her entire being. Pointing, she sent a bolt rocketing through the air directly at the red-haired one’s face. He sidestepped, and the bolt went harmlessly past him… right into the raised shield of the white-haired man. Once again, he disappeared into the tree line with an ‘Oof.’ The warlock turned, distracted by his associate’s misfortune, and it was all she needed. Charging again, the elf raised the dagger, aimed for the man’s midsection. She wouldn’t miss this time.
Something tripped her.
She hadn’t seen any roots on the ground in front of her, what had…? As she staggered to her feet, her arm was twisted around violently, her wrist bent to the point of nearly breaking and shoved against her back, dagger pressed against her throat.
"… Drop the knife." A quiet, calm, female voice said from behind, right into her ear. The elf hesitated, but the pressure on her wrist grew and the dagger pressed even harder against the soft skin of her neck. She complied.
"Barlowe, seems she’s willing to talk now." The woman holding her said smugly, apparently speaking to the warlock. He walked over, glancing over his shoulder once again, eyeing the trees.
"Well done, Coralie. Please, just tell us what we wish to know, and we’ll release you. Okay?"
The elf refused to answer, her glowing green eyes glaring hatefully at the one called Barlowe.
"Hm. Well, we’ll just have to detain you until you decide to tell us WHY you tried to kill me. I will even settle for you telling me who commissioned you, but I need you to tell me SOMETHING…."
His tone was calm but insistent. She knew he meant what he said, and would probably keep his word. She did not fear this man, however, nor his associates. Nowhere near as much as the one who sent her. She couldn’t tell. She could lie, but she was almost certain the warlock -this Barlowe-would know. She had no other choice….
"I don’t think she’s going to go anywhere Coralie, you can go ahead and-" He stopped talking and his eyes widened, but it was too late. She had already channeled the spell and the incantation was on her lips.
"RELEASE HER NOW!! GET AWAY, COR-" The field erupted into a bright flash of light, arcane energy erupting from the elf’s small form, engulfing everything surrounding her.
As the dust cleared, Barlowe coughed, struggling to his feet. The other man was there, shield on his back, sword in hand, helping him to stand. Pushing past the much larger man, Barlowe rushed over to where the pair of women had been. There was now a large crater in the earth, all the grass having been obliterated. Peering down into it, Barlowe sighed in relief as his wife looked up at him, wry smile on her face,
"Close one eh?" She winked. Extending his hand, he took hold of her own and helped her out of the hole, "Indeed, but how….?"
"…-I would have thought you wiser than to go off on such perilous encounters without any protection from Elune, noble Korsaires."
The pair turned to see a large feline stalk out into the clearing, its fangs and claws bared, eyeing the two of them warily. Sitting atop of the beast was an elven woman, her warm smile only brightening the holy aura that glowed about her.
"Good to see you too, Nymwyae." The white haired one said, waving to her as he walked over to the pair.
"Indeed, " Coralie echoed, "If it weren’t for your quick thinking and shield, I would have been a goner."
"Goodness knows the one who actually carries a shield was one step behind the whole time, " Barlowe said, chuckling and nudging the larger man with his elbow, "Isn’t that right, Kalusyo?"
"Oh go lay a goat or something, Kid." The white-warrior grinned at the others around him. "Now, back to business…. Who was that elf, and why did she just eradicate herself instead of talk to some nice people like us?"
"Good question." Barlowe said, frowning and rubbing his mustache. "It is unfortunate that she feared her benefactor more than she did us. Or what he would do to her anyway…"
"They must be someone truly wicked." The elf replied, hopping down from the back of her mount and kneeling at the edge of the crater, "Her aura was strong, a skilled magi. Such a loss." She shook her head slowly.
"That’s not our only worry," Coralie spoke, her tone somber. They all turned to look at her, eyebrows raised, "She was a blood elf. Last I heard they were affiliated with the Horde, no? So not only do we have to watch our backs from our own people now, but the Horde as well."
Kalusyo cursed under his breath, turning away and looking at the sky. "Was it worth it, Korsaire?" he demanded. "Worth all of this? We do the right thing, and we’ve made nothing BUT enemies it seems. How do you justify that in your head?" Coralie winced and stepped closer to her husband, who held up a hand to her, nodding slowly,
"I know how you must feel, Kalusyo. I know what you must be thinking, I’m thinking it too. Life WAS good in the Vagabond camp. Relaxing, easygoing, aimless… We’ve all sacrificed a great deal to stand for the ideals of the people against horrors they wouldn’t even begin to believe exist. The road has been long and hard, but you know why I do it? How I justify it all?"
Nymwyae stood, tilting her head to one side. Kalusyo turned back to the group, fixing Barlowe with a level gaze.
"… it’s simple really. Because I can. And I know there are many that cannot. Those of us who are granted the ability to fight -to stand- against those powers that would unravel the very bindings of our way of life, I truly believe have an obligation to protect those who cannot. Our duty. Our purpose…" He held Kalusyo’s gaze with his own.
"Tell me you could have sat idly by and let someone else handle Denton Cavanaugh… Tell me, Kalusyo."
They all visibly shuddered at the memory of the man and the wake he had left on them. The destruction. They had come out on top, but at a great cost.
"Ignorance is bliss." The warrior retorted. Coralie laughed, and the tall elf cracked a smile.
"True," she said, "But we are no longer ignorant, are we? And with knowledge comes power, and with power… responsibility, dear friend."
The large man grunted, hefting his sword over his shoulder and headed back toward the tree line. "I’ll get the horses…."
[Kalusyo and the disbanded Wraiths encounter the 'Wraith Hunters' a group of Horde-mercenaries hired by an undead Cavanaugh, and for a long while, fight for their very survival under harsh conditions. More can be found here: (( http://stormwraiths.guildlaunch.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=1923550&gid=63500 )) The conflict weighs heavy on all of their hearts, and in the end, Kalusyo is forced to lose a bit of himself in a devastating encounter with Barlowe Korsaire...]
The old warrior groaned, opening his eyes. Rolling over onto his stomach, he pushed himself up to hands and knees. His head hurt, BAD. Touching the back of it, he pulled his hand away and grimaced,
'That's alot of blood.' He grunted. The wind blew, throwing dust and soot into his face, bringing him back to the reality of things. Looking up, his eyes widened.
A short distance away, the demonic visage that Barlowe had become stood above the kneeling draenei, his hand locked tight around his throat. Macivh raked at the warlock's grasp, gurgling. His face was swollen, bruised and one of his legs bent at an unnatural angle.
"By the Light..." Kalusyo frowned, "... -let him go, kid! Barlowe, he's your own operative!" He tried to stand, but the wound in the back of his head throbbed, and the ground wouldn't stop spinning.
"He is corrupted. Corruption must be removed. Eradicated..."
"No... you're wrong. Don't-"
"Exterminated!"
"NO!" The demon's hand clutching Macivh's throat ignited, setting the draenei's entire ablaze with flame. Kalusyo held his hand up, shielding his eyes from the harsh glow of the nether flames burning bright.
When the flames subsided, the fiery-haired man stood there, his robes blowing about in the wind, his arm outstretched. Opening his fist, he tilted his hand to one side and a fine ash poured out, drifting down onto a much larger pile at his feet.
"What have you done?" the warrior said quietly from behind him.
"I've become what i've worked so hard to destroy..."
"You are truly lost, kid."
"Vengeance... self-righteousness. They are forms of corruption in their own right.. are they not?"
"We've tried to pull you back, but you just wouldn't let us..."
Barlowe turned, his emerald-green eyes locking with the warrior's silver-blue ones, "I only meant to remove the evil that plagued our people..."
"The path to the nether is paved with good intentions, Barlowe. You KNEW BETTER!"
"I lost her Kalusyo. She's gone."
"That's NO excuse, kid. I thought I taught you better! What would Coralie think of this? ... what would your FATHER say?!"
The warlock's shoulder's slumped, "Kill me."
"What?"
"I can't live without her. I can't live with the shame of what I've become. My soul is lost..."
"Wha- ... no. I wont. You can't ask me to do this..."
"At least do me that last honor, great warrior. To die at your hands would at least give me some peace."
"Kid, I can't..."
"Yes, you can. You've always been there for me. Watching my back, cleaning up my mess. I need this grave mistake to be rectified, and you are the only one I would trust to do it."
Kalusyo slowly drew his blade from it's sheath, his bottom lip trembling.
".. you're like a son to me."
"I know. In a day where so many claim to be heroes, you truly are one. You are mine, Kalusyo."
The two stared at one another, neither of them moving. The warrior's eyes began to fill with tears as he gazed across the warlock's... -nothing.
They were empty.
The young boy he had been hired by all those years ago was gone. The man he had seen stand against the beaurecrats tormenting the people with unrealistic policies and abusing their power... he too was gone. The man he had heard make vows to the farmgirl from Westfall... lost. Nothing remained.
Kalusyo knew that the words Barlowe had spoken were simply intended to placate him, cooerce him. No true emotions supporting a single phrase. However, Kalusyo knew them to be true. The kid was stating what he knew, even if it wasn't what he felt.
Barlowe had died long ago, and only a shell was left standing before him.
"Tell the others that it was an honor..." the warlock said.
"I will."
"And tell Coralie that I love her..."
Kalusyo pressed the tip of his blade to the center of Barlowe's chest, "She knows." He hesitated, looking away.
"Do it."
The warrior continues to look away, fighting back the tears.
"Do it, Kalusyo..."
"Kid, I-"
"DO IT!!!"
Kalusyo's cry shook the ground and rocks all around the two as he lunged forward, running the blade through the warlock and wrapping him into one last embrace.
[The Entire 'Delusion, Death and Dolbain' thread can be found here: (( http://stormwraiths.guildlaunch.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=2358980&gid=63500 )) ]
[Kalusyo has never been the same, driven only by his duty and guilt of past sins. He lives to prove himself worthy of some sort of saving grace, which has brought him to the Servitors... Fin. Hope you like and appreciate the insight!]
Win or Die
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