((A story between myself and a friend. Since it was done over AIM, the style and order of events will seem a little off at times. Kudos to Evern for this fun little duel ))
The gloom of Silverpine was punctuated by a heavy mist that had flown in from Lordamere Lake, enveloping the woods in its ghostly fingers. Within the veil roamed three figures. One was a human, hefting about a ridiculous number of books and chatting nonstop about how he had never been around the woods, which since he was a child, had been claimed to be haunted. The second figure, an elf, reprimanded him on such childish notions, noting that it was only recently with the infestation of undead and worgen that they could properly be labeled as such. The third and foremost member of the group, around whom the fog was heaviest, only trudged along silently.
"I am telling you, Delnis, that while there is indeed 'haunting', it is not in the ridiculously superstitious nonsense that your kind preaches constantly about!" cried out the elf.
"Nonsense, Tadian, these woods were always bad news even before the undead settled in! Why, I dare to say this would be one of the places where the Scourge first began its mischief," reciprocated the young man.
"You arrogant-"
"Silence," commanded the foremost figure. His withered hands were taut around a strange staff. It had once black and was now crystalline blue, though its horrendous head was no less terrifying, the four skulls surrounding the frigid core staring out like sentinels. He himself was a body beaten by death and sorrow. He lived in the present, however, and his past played no part in his current mood. His mission did. He spoke with a raspy voice. "We are approaching our destination. This is where the amulet is pointing us to and indeed I feel a great flux of arcane and necromantic energies about, and all of it is headed..."
He looked up from the strange scarab amulet he held in his hand, which glowed with a sickly purple light. He frowned. "There."
Darrai scrambled around the small room. The ritual was nearly complete. She held a hand over the largest of the gems that she had, several streams of bright azure energy flowing from the glowing emerald into her hand. Its power filled her, just waiting for the right time to burst forth into the fruit of her labors. Gone would be this weak and terrible body. Gone would be any limitation on her magic. Gone would be the fools from the Kirin Tor that hunted her even now. They would not contend with a fully realized lich. Once this was done, she could return to the Undercity, ready to serve her queen in a wholly new capacity. She just needed a little bit more energy, just enough as, say, two of the mages outside.
A wicked grin spread beneath her white mask, as she pulled it down and stepped forth from her hiding place, hands outstretched. "Greetings, maguses, and welcome to my humble abode." They would think her weak, a defeated figure. The dirty blonde hair that was always kept neatly styled, the Apothecary's robe, the tabard of the Forsaken, the brittle bones, all of it spoke surrender... save her eyes. These spoke of death, of destruction, of a thirst for power she had never known before.
Delnis, the human member of the group, was the most eager of the three. He was freshly graduated from the academy and was the most likely to make the first mistake. Even before the leader of the investigation team could tell him to back away, he promptly moved forward, hands glowing in arcane energy that, once clasped around the wrists of his target, would serve as very strong handcuffs. "You are under arrest for violating Dalaran magical law, Forsaken! Stand down peacefully and you will receive a fair trial in the Violet Citadel." He took a step forward.
"Unlikely," said the soon-to-be lich, reaching out and grabbing the human's face as he stepped closer. The spell that drained the child's life force and magic had already been cast. As an interesting side effect of using such warlock magic, it also removed his soul. The child's scream and subsequent shudder broke Darrai's thumb and forefinger. She let him drop to the ground at her feet, the bright streams flowing from his body to hers. She was so close, so very close.
With a glance at the other two, she raised an eyebrow, not bothering to waste any time. The elf had to go. A quick utterance and he came flying through the air to her other hand, which, shielded by magic, could take the force without breaking. She started draining him, her white mask falling off with the motions, revealing her face. The face itself was relatively undamaged, save for several stitches that held her jaw in place, evidence of some accident long ago.
"DELNI- HAAAGGGH!" Tadian only had these as his final words before he, too, became a husk. The remaining figure had tried to cast a defensive spell to counter the attack, but it had been too late. Tadian's hesitation had cost him his life, true, but nevertheless the head investigator felt the weight of his failure as his own. These two had accompanied him voluntarily. Their safety had been his responsibility. Both had been so young, even Tadian, who had been alive for a hundred years. Bitterness and revulsion came to him. He could not kill her to avenge their falls, but he could still fulfill the mission. That action would in and of itself would be enough justice to serve.
"Forsaken..." he muttered in a barely audible whisper. He pulled back his hood, revealing a decayed, hanging jaw, short black hair, and pale blue skin. Most prominent were his eye sockets, empty save for two orbs of frozen energy that flowed from them in controlled anger. "You seem full of yourself, like many of our kind... like many of your faction." He observed the area from where she had come. His jaw popped as it relocated itself to form a disgusted scowl. "Has Sylvanas begun to breed liches now?" he questioned pressingly.
Darrai let loose a bark of laughter, seeing the third and final mage. He was confident, if foolhardy to betray the Queen thus. As it was, she just needed time now, to let the magic do its work. It would be so well planned if her first act as a lich of the Forsaken was to cleanse the earth of a traitor. "The Dark Lady keeps her options open, brother." She said, adding a hiss to the last word. She felt herself rise off the ground slightly, her body being reshaped by the rituals of the past week. She grinned. Finally she would be what she was meant to be. "Tell me, brother, why did you join these... ignorant fools?"
The mist grew heavier around the undead as he let his power seep through him, a pale radiance waxing in his hand. His glare never left her eyes. "I am not here to parley with you, lichling." Ice grew out from beneath his feet, spreading like a winter-woven carpet. He held out his palm, pointing it toward Darrai. The azure glow intensified and deepened. "I am Archmage Adrius Frostglare of the Kirin Tor, and by the authority granted to me by the Council of Six and the high courts of Dalaran, you are under arrest." The frozen missile shot out from his hand and flew directly toward her.
Darrai spun, her form now that of a lich. Even if she was smaller than the more famous Scourge liches, her levitation made the act even easier. The frostbolt flew harmlessly around her and was redirected back at Frostglare with twice the force. The grinning skull of Darrai followed. "Good, but not good enough," she taunted, her words echoing coldly throughout the surrounding forest as she threw up several magical barriers, following with an attack of her own. Not one, but two frostbolts formed over her shoulders and flew towards the archmage.
'Predictable,' Adrius thought as he stood resolute. All three frostbolts harmlessly collided and were absorbed by the frost ward he had created prior to the battle. 'A common mage combat tactic. "Leave the barriers to bear the brunt of the damage while you pelt the enemy with your offensive spells. Whoever's defenses fall first loses."' He analyzed the barriers she had formed. She had been quite thorough, but they were not complicated. He waved a hand and spoke a few words. The barriers were undone, the threads holding them together pulled at their seams by his own power. He braced himself, placing one leg behind the other and bending his knees. The air seemed to be sucked toward him, compressing into his palm. "Let's see you dodge this." He thrust his hands forward and a blast of below-zero winds bursting toward Darrai from them, coating every grass, shrub, and tree with thin layers of ice.
Darrai shrank back, fearful about the way he had simply shattered her defenses, one arm raised protectively over her head. Then she stopped, the icy wind flowing through her frozen core harmlessly. She straightened, strengthening her defenses despite the small layer of frost and ice that added bulk to her body, grinning at her adversary. "Smart, but you forgot how cold we liches can be." With a wave of her hand she reduced his defenses to mere shadows of what they were at the beginning of the fight. Then with a few more gestures, massive balls of ice started forming in the sky, then falling randomly around them. Where they hit Darrai, they did nothing, but if any hit Frostglare, he would be rent to pieces.
His tests were over. He had learned enough about her to get on the offensive. 'Great resistance to damage from cryomancy. She's no different from the common lich even though her rituals differ from the usual Scourge process.' To counter the blizzard, the archmage raised a hand skyward and spread out his fingers. A single syllable summoned a thick dome of ice around him. The razor shards that rained down either broke apart or embedded themselves in his shield. When it had stopped, the barrier cracked and crumbled away into pieces. Inside, however, there was nothing.
"Have you seen the futility, lichling? Will you come peacefully or not?" whispered his voice sternly from behind her, the glow of a recent blink spell fading away. He pressed a hand against her back, a red glow resonating from it. He was not skilled at pyromancy, but at this range, potency rather than accuracy would be all he'd have to worry about. "Give in or I will be forced to terminate you."
She stopped cold, her eyes narrowing. "What will happen then, brother, were I to give in?" Even as she spoke, her mind raced for a way to escape, a way to ensure her survival and, if possible, his doom.
"You will be teleported to Ambermill, the nearest settlement under the domain of Dalaran, where you will await a fair trial. Most likely, you will be sentenced to life imprisonment, which considering your physiology, will be a very long time. But if you cooperate and tell us how the Forsaken are turning their own into liches and with what purpose, you may go free, perhaps even allowed sanctuary within Dalaran's walls." Sadly, the offer was rarely accepted. Forsaken were fanatically loyal to their queen, and he knew what happened to traitors. After all, he was one himself to them. "Please, take it. I am no brother to the Forsaken, not anymore, but there is hope outside their wicked embrace. You can find a new purpose without damning yourself!"
Darrai grimaced, looking downwards for a moment, and slouching, her physical form slowly reverting to its original state, the brittle-boned, blond haired, dead human, which in itself was a fallacy. But she did have at least one card left to play, one that nobody in their right mind would expect to see; she had only discovered it once she had figured out the circumstances revolving around her natural affinity for magic. She was more than just a zombie, and that was a fact that only she knew. She closed her eyes, ignoring the heat at her back, and concentrated. Suddenly, her body crumpled, falling over to the ground at his feet.
Behind Frostglare, silently, there appeared a misty white being, bearing the duplicate image of Darrai, save for having long elven ears. She glared at the man and rushed into his being.
For a moment, a small smile of gladness came to him as he saw her revert to her original form. Perhaps she had seen the light. Perhaps she-
He gasped, changing his projectile from a fire blast to a freezing spell, rooting her legs and arms to the ground. He leaned over. No, was she playing dead? He would make sure she went nowhere. Why would she try such an obvious trick? Perhaps she had- 'Oh, no.'
He felt the chill at his back, and before he could realize what had happened, he felt something enter his body. The girl was a banshee, he realized, and she had possessed him. Or, rather, she was trying. She would find he was more than a fair contender for control of his body. Within the walls of his soul she would find nothing ordinary. A strange place it was, with wispy clouds everywhere and no ground, a horizon-blue sky painted everywhere. In the center there floated small, featureless, black and white box.
Darrai drifted to the box, carefully inspecting it, looking from all corners. She ignored the memories drifting around her, the visions of an elven love, friends, family, and his entire history. Memories weren't what she was looking for. She was looking for things to distract the man, to make him lose focus so she could escape… and what better place to look than inside a box? She smirked, waving a hand over it, watching it open with curiosity.
From within the pyxis spread darkness, enveloping everything around. The drifting clouds became twisted horrendously, thinning into an all-consuming mist, and the sky became a starless night. The fog of Silverpine paled in comparison to the fog of the soul of Adrius Frostglare, and from it materialized large masses of ice, islands and mountains of it, all tethered by a single black chain.
"You do not like it, do you?" came his voice from nowhere and everywhere. "You should know, as you are one yourself, that free undead have the strongest will of any who walk in Azeroth, defying the god of the dead himself. All of us fought daily to keep him at bay, to keep our selves within our own grasp." There came from the mist two large, skeletal hands. "I did not only conquer the Lich King, little girl. I conquered my inner demon, and now that demon serves me. I am my own master now, and no other can lay claim to my body and my soul. Not the Lich King, not the damned lich that inhabited my staff, and not you." The hands reached to grab her and toss her out. From within the mist came the glow of two eerie eyes that shone like sapphires and a howling, windy growl. "Leave. Me. NOW!"
Darrai fled the man's mind, releasing her hold and backing out. She reappeared behind the archmage. She wasted no time letting loose a wail, screeching as loud and as strong as she could. Once she had finished, she leapt back into her body and started the complex castings of a teleportation spell, not bothering to worry about where it would take her.
As he regained conscience of the world around him, Adrius was greeted by the screeching wail of the banshee. The rude awakening left him groaning in pain, his orientation thrown off by the unholy scream. Yet, he could manage to make out the woman returning to her body and begin a teleportation spell. He didn't think as he acted, though later he would admit it might have been a foolish move, since not only is teleporting multiple people at once very dangerous without having the power to actually do a mass teleportation (hence why portals were created), but the destination could very well have been Undercity. It would have been a long, gruesome path to his end if it had been. Nevertheless, he grabbed her, intent on following her, and the two vanished out of the area.
Just as the final incantation was muttered, Darrai felt a clammy hand on her arm, snapping the fragile bones there. Everything vanish, and when she reappeared, she saw boiling magma below. She threw herself away from the edge of wherever she, scrambling backward in fear. A quick look around and she found that she was inside Blackrock Mountain, atop the central pillar and that, thankfully, nobody was near her... yet.
However, the teleportation had taken much out of her, and she couldn't even begin to cast another or even open a portal. She muttered a curse, sitting down and letting the shadow magic heal her broken limbs. At least she had succeeded. Who knew where the other one ended up, perhaps in the magma, or even perhaps in front of Sylvanas. 'My, that would be funny.'
Adrius' vision was misted as he began to awake. Even through his deadened flesh, he could feel the heat of the lava far below and the burn of the thick metal chain he had landed on. Only fortune had saved him this time. He groaned and hefted himself on one of the links, gritting his teeth at the searing sensation in his skin. It was ideal that he did not breathe, or surely the toxic fumes would have made him dizzy.
He checked himself for missing limbs or other grievous injury. He was slightly burned, but that alone was a reason for worry. No wonder he had been so sluggish; the ice crystals that helped maintain his muscles' structural integrity were melting. If he did nothing, they would become soft, burdensome, and cripplingly painful. He did not hesitate to coat himself in ice to keep them functional.
Now he focused on the task at hand. He'd give Blackrock a swift search before deciding to head back to Silverpine. For all he knew, she could be anywhere on Azeroth, but he had not let go of her during the teleportation until the very end. Perhaps she wasn't really far away. He hoped she had not teleported into the lava or inside a rock. That would have been very unfortunate.
Darrai crept to a corner, reaching behind for her hood and pulling it over her head, with her good arm. She sat and started meditating, trying to gather the energy from her surroundings until she had enough to repair her wounds, and get on her way to the Undercity. But that could take quite some time.
Adrius walked down the chain toward the suspended rock in the center of the mountain. It was the most obvious place to hide in, if she had made it, which was both promising and discouraging. If she was smart, she would creep elsewhere that was not as eye-catching, but as far as he could see, she was not one to think too quickly. Even so, it was still a large, hollowed hunk of rock, a massive monolith that served to entomb the architect of the Dark Iron's grim city, or so the tomes of lore had said. He'd have to seek her out in every nook and cranny. Doing this alone was not something he intended to do, however.
Adrius created a glowing sigil in the air and then uttered a syllable. Immediately, there sprung a fount of water, and the elemental materialized into the physical world. Adrius gave his command along with a mental picture of the target. 'Seek out this woman in the area, Hachtuo. Do not kill her, but try to incapacitate her.' The elemental nodded and gushed its way toward the inside of Franclorn Forgewright's tomb.
Darrai opened her eyes, a misplaced sound echoing off the rock walls of the mountain. She muttered a curse, slipping from her corner and away. She ventured into the depths of the mountain, climbing on the first chain she saw and following it down almost to the surface of the roiling magma below. Doubt entered her mind. She was thinking about this all wrong, unused as she was to being the target of the enemy's attacks. No, she was used to raining death and destruction wherever she wished on a battlefield or pursuing a scientific research in a lab… ah, now there was an idea. She rummaged through her bags.
'Wait, where was it? Oh, right.' She smacked her forehead, now remembering. Using what reserves of mana she had left, she opened a small portal to a different realm to retrieve the orb from the pocket dimension in which she had stored long ago. It would take but moments to use, and would ensure that nobody would recognize her until she released the shifted shape. The only problem was she would have no idea as to the shape she would assume, but there were risks in everything. She cast the spell. It worked, and in place of the Forsaken there stood a night elf. Darrai grimaced, rocking back and forth in the new shape, clearly unused to being a good three feet taller than she should be, but there was nothing for it now. She shook her head, trying to think of everything she knew about night elves, every fact that she'd read came to the forefront, and she quickly altered her clothes through physical means to fit the facts. She pulled her robe off, shoving it into her bag, leaving her hair tied up. Quickly, she experimented with her tongue, forming the alien words of the night elf language. And that's when she saw a water elemental approaching from the center platform. She smirked, closing her eyes and muttering thanks to Elune, inwardly grinning.
The water elemental mindlessly moved about the inner cavers. It caught a glimpse of a figure move in the darkness. Pursuing the suspicious individual, it followed it to one of the meters-thick chains. It did not attack, however, for there in front of it stood a night elf. Having no orders regarding the night elf, it awaited its master's command.
Adrius received the call from Hachtuo about the night elf and ordered it to watch her until he had arrived. He was not naive enough to believe that she was simply a lost girl, not here in the Blackrock Mountains. Something was amiss. If she was real, he would need to be diplomatic. Unfortunately, his undead appearance could frighten her. He would have to approach with caution.
Hachtuo stood vigilant over the night elf, waiting for its master to approach. When but a few minutes later there came Adrius walking up the chain, he evaporated into nothingness. His time on the mortal plane was over.
The archmage regarded the night elf with suspicion. 'Something is not right here. There are residual traces of arcane energy, perhaps from Hachtuo's dismissal, or perhaps from something else. We will see.' He raised a hand in a peaceful gesture to show he meant no harm. However, he did not leave himself defenseless. It may have been a harmless sign of amnesty, but just as quickly it could become a deadly blast of ice. "Please," he spoke amiably, "I am not your enemy. I represent the city of Dalaran. I am hunting down a suspect who has been toying with necromantic magic. Could you tell me if you have seen her? Her appearance is that of a frail-looking Forsaken woman in robes."
References to night elven culture flew past Darrai's mind and were analyzed, processed, and then replaced until the next time she needed them. They didn't trust the undead as far as they could throw them, she knew. It was simply counter to their beliefs. She eyed the man warily, flexing her hands. One of the problems with this form of shape-shifting was that if one had a bone condition, as Darrai did, the condition carried through. Should a bone break when one was (technically) alive, it hurt a lot more than when one was not.
"Greetings, undead," she said, trying her hardest to give her voice a Darnassian accent to accommodate the lilt that the shape shifting had granted her. "I am afraid I have not seen such a... woman." Inwardly she grinned at her masterful pause, as though to search for words. This man would be hard pressed to see past her disguise, especially since she had ventured into Alliance capitols before in such disguises.
Adrius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He could find nothing wrong with her, save perhaps that her reaction, while cautious, was simply not as great as he expected. 'I suppose some could be more experienced than others... but that still does not explain her presence here.' "I see. Pardon my question, miss...? What may I call you?" he pressed.
Her mind raced back to the information, tearing through it like a kid searching for lost homework. "Trayana Mistmoon," she said, off the top of her head, narrowing her eyes at the man. 'That's it, nothing to see here. This was not the woman you are looking for, just a night elf, lost in the mountain, unwilling to accept the help of an undead mage, no matter how friendly.'
"Miss Mistmoon it is, then. I am afraid I have not heard of many night elves trekking through Blackrock Mountain, not since the assault on Ragnaros and Nefarian several years ago. What business do you have here?" And now the test became more intense. Adrius did not enjoy pressuring strangers for their personal whereabouts and he himself disliked eyes prying into his own, but under these circumstances, he simply could not allow any slip-ups.
Darrai mentally cursed, folding her arms across her chest as she looked down at him, where previously she'd had to look up. It was a new experience. After a long moment of simply staring at him, she had come up with a suitable story. "Exploring," she said with a sigh, as though giving up, "I thought there might be something valuable down here."
'Exploring?' the archmage questioned himself, his eyebrows lowering in disbelief. There was much wrong with this alibi. She was far from any night elf settlement, the conditions were dangerous, and there was nothing here that anyone from a culture such as her own would find valuable. His jaw clenched tightly. "You should leave. No treasure is worth walking alone in such a-" he stopped. She was... she was not sweating. Why was she not sweating? Realization dawned on him. 'She is not real! It is an illusion!' Adrius' orbs of ice materialized. His hands glowed with frost energy. "I have found you out, lichling. Stand down. One cold blast and I will push you off this chain and into the flames below. Nether knows, after what you tried back in Silverpine, I SHOULD!"
Darrai's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in outrage. She pressed on with the act. "Lichling? You accuse me of being as you are, undead? If I had my weapons I would gut you now and be done with it." She started to walk past him in a huff, fists clenched at her side.
"If you're not undead," Adrius said grimly, "why don't you -sweat-? It is burning, and even though you have been here for quite some time, there is not a drop of sweat on you! Your illusion is found lacking, lichling." He raised his palm toward her. "Stand down, NOW!"
"I know not of what you speak, Forsaken. Perhaps the fumes have gotten to your head. Leave. Me. Be." She continued walking, inwardly cursing herself for forgetting something as simple as sweat. In the temperate climates of Stormwind and Darnassus she hadn't had to worry about such, and she didn't bother infiltrating Ironforge when there was a grand pile of dwarf books in Grim Batol and Blackrock.
"You leave me no choice, then." The glow from Adrius' hands vanished, but only temporarily. He gripped Winterlord's frame, and soon the staff shattered and vanished. A chill that ensued overpowered the heat around him as his skin began to disintegrate, his fleshless face sporting a large pair of fangs. A mane of ethereal blue grew from his now bare skull. His feet left the ground and his robes altered and tore themselves away to reveal the new skeletal form. Inside his chest cavity there appeared the same black and white box from his soulscape. The voice that came from his maw spoke in a windy, ghostly howl. "Turn to face me, lichling. I want to see your face when you realize there is nowhere to run."
Darrai kept walking, knowing what was going on behind her, and fearing it. She abandoned her disguise, though the form would not wear off for another hour at least, barring death. She cobbled together all the magic that she could, then held it, invisible around her, and waited. She had enough for perhaps one shot. Too soon and he'd block it. Too late, and she'd be dead. She had to wait for just the right moment.
The lichified archmage doggedly chased, his frozen pupils searching wildly. "You toyed with dark forces that place us all at risk," he began as he blasted a rock with icicles. "You killed my comrades," he roared, launching a lance of ice toward a different hiding spot, cold shrapnel flying every which way. "You tried to take over my MIND AND BODY!" he screamed, an explosion of condensed arcane frost leaving no spot untouched. "And even now you dare to run like a fool, clinging desperately to the name of your 'Banshee Queen', she who has betrayed her own people? You will not escape me!"
Darrai frowned, closing her eyes, shaping the formless gathering of arcane energy in her clumsy night elven hands into something deadlier, something more accurate and piercing than the average arcane bolt. She waited still.
Adrius' head jerked up. He spirited himself toward a particular cluster of rocks. "You would be better off dead, but you are worth more alive." His ghostly breath poured down the crevice. "Your last chance is at hand. Give in peacefully, or I will bring you with me by brute force."
Darrai smirked, her ghastly form flying up through the floor, and she fired her shot, all her force, every last bit of magic she could gather, all of it was aimed at the lich's box. It was a hunch, but the gambit she made by leaving her body had paid off so far.
Adrius was stunned by the attack. The arcane projectile struck his ribs and went between them, damaging the box. Adrius groaned and pressed his hands against his chest. 'Fool... I should have placed defenses on myself as soon as I turned. Damn! I am reverting...' Flesh covered him once more. He fell to the ground with a thud, his robes once more wholesome, if slightly worn now. Gripping his chest in pain, Adrius rose to his feet. Were he alive, he would be panting. Hurt but undeterred, he turned around to face the ghastly spirit and reached for her, a frostbolt manifesting in his hand once more. 'A cornered rat is dangerous, but this one has lost its teeth.' "You will be safely encased in mage ice. Do not worry about crystallization tearing your essence. I will design it so that it will remain compact. You have no more means to defend yourself. You will now come with me." The frostbolt launched.
Darrai gaped at his transformation, and subsequent gathering of magic. She had him, damn it, she had him! Slowly, she felt her energy returning as she watched, wide eyed, as he formed his magic, speaking slowly. It was now or never, she had to think of something. She wracked her brain, cursing in chains as no ideas came. She was out of ideas for the first time she could remember, and that scared her more than anything. The bolt hit her incorporeal form, freezing it as solidly as a ghost could be. 'Here was the test', she thought, watching for what he would do next. She was unable to do anything herself. She had never left her body for more than a few hours at the most, and she was different than most banshees. Would she survive if her body was destroyed? An interesting thought...
Achingly, Adrius turned to look down the crevice. If her banshee soul was here, then her corporeal form was certainly tucked away in that same crevice. Sure enough, there it was. 'I cannot carry only her spirit, as fitting a punishment it would be. Well, it must be done.'
He reached down to grab her arm and pull her out. He heard a snap almost as soon as he gave the first little tug. His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "That is... surprising." He sighed. 'This will mean I cannot take it with me. It is too frail to remove without destroying it. This must be why she wanted to gain the strength of a lich... hmmm...' clawed the dark though in his mind, a satisfied smirk spreading over his face. 'How unfortunate.' He turned around and faced the banshee, though he did not show any of the smugness he had had a second ago. "It seems you will need to leave without your body. I cannot teleport it directly from where it stands." He tapped the ice sternly. "I will make you a deal, lichling. Cooperate, and perhaps I will petition for a team to retrieve it. I would be swift to speak if I were you. Tectonic activity may lead to it getting crushed and lost forever."
Darrai stared at the man, then, imperceptibly through the ice, she seemed to sigh, giving in to his demands. Whether he understood that she agreed or not, he would take her with him. Placing his hand on the block of ice and ensuring to put enough power to teleport them both, Adrius recited the spell that would take them to Ambermill. Blackrock once more became devoid of movement.