Love Bites
Writer's Note: Breaking Dawn will shortly be converted from a one-shot to a series of analogy tales set in the Cataclysm expansion of WOW. This story will eventually be added to it, but for now…Love Is In The Air, and so it stands alone.
Part 1: A Temper That Never Tires
"If I could soar the sky for hours
Just like a butterfly through flowers
I'd fly to you
'Cause you know that you showed me I could
You always ran to me when I cried
And promised to be closer to my side
I'm glad it's true
Even when I'm not doin' so good.
Still I dunno know-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Why you went flying with a loser like me
Just goes to show-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
The sky's never a limit to what we can be…"
In a world that has shattered…
Some things stand strong.
…Always?
Zackel Wintersoul was not the type to hold up certain periods of time as more important to a relationship than others.
Well, to be more specific, he was not one to let outsiders do it. When the Crown Chemical Co (and the Forsaken pulling its strings) had caused its initial ruckus all those years ago, inadvertently semi-legitimizing the 'period of love' they'd been trying to manipulate for their own ends, Zackel had been single. In the two serious relationships he'd been in since then, he had not seen a valid reason to treat those days as if they were anything special. A relationship was always special, no matter what the time of year was, and acting as if one should 'try harder' during a specific period of time struck Zackel as crass, manipulative, and all and all artificial. Zackel had seen too many men (and women) who seemed to think that acting their best during that period allowed them to slack off the rest of the time, and he'd told a few of them that, to their faces. So far, it had earned him two punches. It didn't change Zackel's mind.
However, just because Zackel saw no reason why a block of days were said to be more 'romantic' and 'passionate' and 'couple-friendly', it did not mean that he was so above it all to play along. Winter's Veil, in the end, was about community and family, not about the gifts, but getting them was still nice. Likewise, while showing love and affection to your significant other should have been done year-round, well…no harm in taking advantage of widely held beliefs to step up your efforts.
Also, if the timing favored you, one would be a fool not to take advantage.
"When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes…I all alone beweep my outcast state…" Zackel murmured to himself, holding the black rose out in front of him. He'd given Rielle more than a few flowers carved from ice over their years, but this year he'd come up with a new idea. With absolute concentration, one finger held up and pointing at the flower, he was writing on the delicate petals with traces of frost, casting a brief poem in tiny Draeneic text (Rielle had excellent eyes). He wasn't exactly sure where the text came from: Zackel had discovered it in Draenei records, which according to the scattershot info, the aliens had picked up somewhere during their eons of space travel. Whatever its origins, it translated well to Common, Zackel doing said translating out loud as he wrote the original alien cuneiform on the flower.
"And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, and look upon myself and curse my fate. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least. Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising, From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings…That then I scorn to change my state with kings."
With the last bit of text displayed on the flower, Zackel carefully reached out with one hand and brought the gnome-contraption he'd built the night before in front of him. Originally a clock covered with an elongated glass dome, Zackel had removed the clock and done some modifications, both mechanical and magical, to the base. Carefully placing the rose on the thin stand, Zackel settled the glass cover onto the base and locked it down, before focusing some of his magical talents inside it. Faint cold mist began to exude from the base within, a preservation mechanism that would keep the rose fresh and the writing clear until Rielle showed up.
Exactly when she would, Zackel didn't know. They'd made general plans to meet that day: Zackel figured it wouldn't be much longer. He just hoped circumstances continued to exist as they currently were for the day, if only for the sake of his ideas. Things rarely turned out the way you wanted to in Azeroth, ESPECIALLY after the Shattering…but one could hope.
Their lives had been busy since the day Deathwing had returned; after a few quiet years, the two of them had found themselves thrust into new and ever-expanding threats. At the moment, though, the pair had found themselves on the dangerous territories that had been dubbed the Twilight Highlands. While they hadn't been part of the initial force that had (with considerable difficulty) made landing and begun construction of the location dubbed Highbank, Zackel and Rielle had certainly aided in keeping Highbank in one piece: between the orc offshoot known as the Dragonmaw, the far-too-volatile Horde elements that were already there (it almost drove Zackel to despair that, even with the world at risk of breaking apart, the Alliance and Horde STILL couldn't stop fighting each other), and of course, the actual Twilight's Hammer cult and all the dark forces they were aligned with, there had been more then enough danger to go around. Despite the odds, the Alliance had dug its heels in and refused to be cast out, and, in typical aggressive fashion, had sent scout, adventurer, and mercenary parties into the Highlands to accomplish tasks even as they fought to survive (something Zackel didn't pat himself on the back for as much as others did: the Horde had done the same). The approach had bourn fruit, for the most part: the Alliance had united the scattered Wildhammer dwarf clans that roamed the highlands and recruited them into their ranks, and the Horde had sent a party into the cursed fortress Grim Batol and struck a blow against the Twilight's Hammer, among other things. Not everything had worked out well, though; an attempt to strike another blow, this time against Deathwing, had ended with the red dragon queen Alexstraza gravely wounded and the Red Dragonflight barely restrained in their desire for vengeance.
It was the last event that had led to the current circumstances. Highbank was still under construction, the Alliance having finally finished fortifying the initial keep and the land and sea defenses to focus on building a few more structures within its walls. A makeshift barracks had been among the first completed buildings; besides those who had been allowed to sleep in the keep (and they were very few, as it was primarily used for the commanders and official Alliance forces rather than for hired outsiders), adventurers had been forced to sleep in tents inside the fortress walls. With the barracks done, most of the adventurers had moved in, trading the exposure, cold winds blowing off the sea, and lumpy ground for the cramped rooms and absolute lack of privacy of the building. Zackel and Rielle had been separated (the barracks were not unisex), and while a few more structures had been finished since then (including, of all things, a small makeshift bar/tavern, though considering the fact that the Wildhammers had come into the fold, maybe that wasn't so surprising), more rooms, or an inn, was not among them. With said barracks crammed to bursting, and going outside in a tent not much better, Zackel and Rielle had resigned themselves to the situation and focused on the work.
Then the Red Dragonflight had come, its leaders proposing a bold plan. After Alexstraza's injuries, the Red Dragonflight had been chomping at the bit for revenge. They were not, however, so stupid to let this desire cause them to play into enemy hands. The Red Dragonflight leaders had proposed using the situation for a feint: the Alliance members (as well as any neutral mercenaries) that they recruited would fake an attack at Grim Batol, supposedly seeking to penetrate its deeper chambers and get at whatever lay there, then quickly retreat. At the same time, the Red Dragonflight would strike at the Twilight's Hammer bastion, re-channeling their rage at a just-as-deserving target, hopefully catching them off guard and inflicting far more damage than a strike at Deathwing would create. The Alliance leaders had agreed, and quickly rounded up every single able-bodied combatant who wanted to go.
That number, however, had not included Zackel or Rielle. Zackel had been in Stormwind at the time, picking up some supplies, and Rielle had been engaged with other Wildhammer dwarves in the small town known as Thundermar, aiding them in their issues with the Dragonmaw orcs that had been stupid enough to not side with the Horde. The pair had returned to find the barracks had gone from overstuffed to virtually deserted, and with a request for no newcomers to join the planned assault due to issues with time and security, Zackel and Rielle had been effectively banned from the attack. Zackel somewhat regretted not being there when the request had been made, but sometimes timing just didn't work out. He was also mildly concerned for his friend Nekola, who HAD gone with the rest of the selected Alliance. After meeting the dwarf priest again, shortly after the Shattering, he'd ended up sharing several more adventures with her; her healing skills had not lessened, and perhaps best of all, she and Rielle got along well. If something happened when he wasn't around, well…hopefully nothing would. Zackel had had his fill of regrets.
On the good side, the barracks being empty meant that Zackel had been able to claim a special 'officer room' for himself (previously, whoever got the room had been decided by card games). Though all that meant in the end was that he got a slightly better bed and a window, the main benefit was privacy. While word had come that the feint and actual attack had been fairly successful, the collected Alliance members had not yet returned to Highbank. Between that fact, and the time period, and the apparent lull of trouble, Zackel had figured that spending a day with his lady would be a nice break from the current troubles of the world.
Whenever she showed up.
Which would hopefully be soon.
"Well…beats digging up more clay fragments for pocket change." Zackel said, pulling out a gold piece and rolling it across his knuckles. The irony that the particular piece of coin may very well have come from Zackel's archeology pursuits was not lost on him.
When the hammer came down on the axe, Dorgan Slagfist could feel the power of the weapon radiate up his arm. The blacksmith had seen a few exceptional weapons pass through his shop in Highbank, for repairs and touch-ups, but the crimson and black axe, as big as he was, seemed to speak to him more. The weapon sang of war and bloodshed, of glorious battle and conquest, of all one's foes falling beneath one's heel. Dorgan suspected that there was a tale behind its construction, but he also suspected that he wouldn't be hearing it today. Regrettable, but it did not lessen the enjoyment he felt while working on the weapon. It gave him confidence that, for all the twisted, horrendous creatures and powers the Twilight's Hammer commanded, it would all end up as little more than corpses at their feet and blood on their blades.
Finishing his work, Dorgan placed the axe in the nearby water sluice, the liquid carefully moderated to properly cool and strengthen the weapon. Wiping the axe down with a cloth, Dorgan turned to his customer, who was looking at the sky with a thoughtful expression.
"Done, lass." Dorgan said, the Draenei standing up and walking over to him. "I must say…that's quite a tool for a lady."
Rielle smirked with one corner of her mouth, before she reached down and picked up the axe one-handed. This fact did not go unnoticed by the dwarf, who worked a forge all day and had the muscles to go with it; he'd felt far more comfortable handling the weapon with both his arms.
"Good thing I'm not one, then." Rielle said, looking over her axe. "Ah, excellent work. Keep the change." Rielle said, handing the dwarf a small pouch of gold coins.
"Many thanks. Keep your feet on the ground."
"Duly noted." Rielle said, picking up her helmet and tucking it under her arm as she headed out of the 'craftsmanship' section of Highbank. Judging by what the sun had told her, it was slightly past 11 AM. Having completed all the small daily tasks she could think of, Rielle pondered what she could fit in before she went and spent time with Zackel. Check for information? Then again, with so few people around, she doubted she'd get anything new. Inquire about developing jobs? No, that could be read the wrong way…
There really wasn't much of anything she could do, in the end. That seemed like as good a reason as any…
"Pardon me!" A voice came, and Rielle turned to look at a male human in dark robes. Her nose crinkled at the scent of fel energy: a warlock. Rielle didn't care for warlocks: most Draenei didn't, on principle. On the other hand, Rielle had met at least two warlocks with willpower and noble intentions that could easily be a match for her own, so she tried not to judge without merit. "You are Rielle? The Draenei warrior?"
"Who's asking?" Rielle said, her battle instincts flaring up.
"Hey! I wanted to ask her!" Came another, female voice, and the warlock was abruptly elbowed aside by someone else. A female dwarf, and a paladin, based on the various religious symbols carved into her sapphire-colored armor, as Rielle observed.
"Hi! Fhaerris Glorygem! Can you help us?" The dwarf said, even as she stuck out her hand.
"What?" Rielle said, a little confused.
"We want to deliver a message to Firebeard's Patrol! But Highbank's out of griffons, and we've heard that the black dragonkin have been ranging further afield from the Obsidian Forest these past weeks, ever since Alexstraza's injury. Embouldered, or whatever the word is." Fhaerris said in a non-breathing rush. "So we thought we'd ask you!"
"You know me?" Rielle said.
"Only by reputation." The warlock said, rubbing his hip where the dwarf had elbowed him.
"Yeah! You're a giant ass-kicker, and stuff! With you, we don't have to be worried about anything! Can you help us? PLEASSSEEEE?" Fhaerris said, and Rielle could swear the dwarf was giving her puppy-dog eyes.
"There's payment involved. Not a bad sum." The warlock added in a dry tone.
"…well…I…" Rielle said, glancing back into Highbank. Looking back at the dwarf, she swore she could see the paladin's upper lip quivering. Peering upwards, Rielle did a little geographic math.
The battlefields in front of Highbank were calm for now. At maximum ride on a ground-mount, barring any outside interference, Firebeard's Patrol could be reached and returned from inside ninety minutes. She and Zackel hadn't set a particular time to meet…and she did always feel better if she got some exercise during the day…
…Surely it couldn't hurt. Maybe she could…
No, Zackel would probably be cross at the thought of spending their day (even a small part) doing dirty work. Better to just do it and come see him afterwards, with some extra money and a new story to tell. She could clean herself off and the two could treat themselves to a rowboat ride, or some sabreworg meat in the special sauce that cook Silvia provided if you paid him enough. Yeah, she could handle this.
"…Trouble you say?' Rielle said, putting her axe on the ground. The paladin Fhaerris, despite seeming very un-paladin like in some senses, apparently recognized the motion as an agreement, and began clapping her hands together in glee.
"Hopefully none." The warlock said.
"Oh I don't know…" Rielle said, reaching up and slipping her helmet over her face. The magically enchanted super-charged crystals expanded upward from its jaw, covering Rielle's lovely features in a line of cruel spikes. It did not, however, hide the wicked grin that came over her features.
"There's not much fun in that."
Zackel had been reading the book for nearly an hour when he'd started to feel bothered. Another hour had passed before the sensation grew too much for him to concentrate on the book. Where was Rielle?
Zackel put the book down and pondered the wall. While it was true that the pair hadn't set a specific time, he'd been quite certain Rielle would have shown up by now. She was a practical girl, and wasn't the type for small talk or gossip. Maybe she'd met up with…no, she wasn't currently in the camp. Then what was it?
"…girl should remember I don't live as long as her." Zackel said. Standing up, he took a moment to peer out the window (which looked out onto Highbank, and revealed no Rielle), before he laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He did that for another thirty minutes before he finally got antsy and got off the bed, heading to his personal chest of items and opening it up.
The palm-fitting gem was a dark, rusty red, and it felt warm to the touch. That fact provided a little comfort to Zackel, albeit not as much as he'd have liked. The gem contained, among other things, including magic, a few drops of Rielle's blood. It had a pretty far range, and as long as the gem remained warm to Zackel's touch, it meant Rielle was alive. If the gem heated up, it meant she was exerting herself. If it got colder, it meant she was injured. If it turned black and went completely cold…
That would hopefully never, ever happen. Still, it never hurt to take precautions.
Zackel stared at the gem for another half an hour before his patience finally ran thin enough to head out. He knew that if there was some innocuous reason that she was taking so long, she'd be mad that he thought she had to be tracked down. Still, Zackel would take kow-towing and spoiling her to appease her temper over not knowing what had happened to her (he'd done it before).
He really hoped the whole incident didn't involve Ishova. That was the last thing he needed.
Rielle should have known from the size of the payment that the 'brief mission' she'd decided to do would turn out the way it had. There was generous compensation…and then there was the act of throwing money at an issue to try and stave off perceived problems. The sheer number of gold pieces that were being offered for a simple delivery should have tipped her off that she wasn't just delivering a normal message. The message was clearly so important that not only did the payer wanted it delivered fast, he wanted the carriers to be so eager to collect that they wouldn't question what the message was. Nothing like waving cash at the average Azeroth adventurer to get them to stop thinking, especially when they thought they had been handed a sucker on a silver platter. Rielle, not wanting to spoil things for her companions, had kept her questions to herself until the delivery, when she'd asked the woman that had accepted the letter, in a teasing manner, if it was a love poem.
The woman had tried to kill her. Things had gone downhill from there.
As it had turned out, the message had not been a love poem. It had been from a Twilight's Hammer spy inside Highbank, informing the message-taker of a meeting place. Said message-taker had clearly ended up being too paranoid and twitchy for their own good, and interpreted Rielle's joke as an indication she'd known too much. The message was also in code, but one of Fhaerris' companions, a male rogue, had happened to be an expert cryptographer (and also a budding businessman who had given Rielle his card, something that had mightily confused the Draenei) who had figured out what the message meant. With a Potion of Illusion provided by Rielle (mixed by Zackel, the sweet ever-prepared brainiac), another of the team, a night elf druid, had taken the message-taker's place and the group had headed to the meeting place. One ambush and fight later, the Twilight's Hammer spy and her minions were dead…
And another Alliance group had arrived immediately afterwards, apparently tracking the spy for their own reasons. It was around the time when the dead spy was revealed to be wearing one half of a necklace that, if brought with its other half, could cause the Alliance and Horde terrible trouble, that Rielle began to wonder if it would have been better if she'd just said no to the offer.
But she couldn't just walk away. Not now…
Highbank's still-being-constructed status made one thing simple: it wasn't hard to turn over every stone. Even the keep and ships in the dock didn't add much time to Zackel's search; whether that was a good thing or not, the mage could not say. He'd started his hunt for his girlfriend mildly irritated, and forty-five minutes later, there was nothing mild left.
He'd held the 'lifestone' in his hand the whole time, but he hadn't been able to tell if its changes in heat were due to his own body or the gem actually doing its job (too subtle. Zackel never thought he'd have an experience where that was a bad thing). Between that, and a complete lack of Rielle (unless she was somehow hiding in one of the ships or the keep areas Zackel hadn't been allowed into, which would require stealth and quiet, which Zackel expected Rielle to be capable of to that degree about as soon as he expected to find out she was really three goblins in a Draenei costume), Zackel had finally returned to his room with a dark expression and darker feelings. The few people still in the barracks paid him little mind as he made his way to his room, entering and sitting at the small table, his staff in its usual position against the wall. Left with nothing else to do, Zackel sat and stared at the lifestone, waiting to see if it could give him any new answers.
All it did, over the next hours, was heat up and cool down in an almost-controlled matter. Zackel knew what that meant: Group combat with someone who was fixing up Rielle on the fly. Zackel, after a bit, suspected it had been doing that even as he'd stalked around Highbank: he hadn't noticed because he'd been clutching the gem in his hand and paying attention to his search rather than letting it sit on his palm and focusing on it.
So, barring something extremely unlikely like false readings, what had occurred was clear. Rielle had decided to run off and brawl with someone (or more likely, someones) instead of spending time with him. Fel, she'd run off WITHOUT him.
Which was ridiculous. Rielle wasn't like that. It must have been some kind of emergency…
An emergency she hadn't gotten his help with? What, did the problem have an anti-mage ray? Rielle had mocked, lorded over, and generally poked fun at Zackel many a time over how squishy she thought he was and how important it was for him to hide behind her far stronger, more enduring body…but she'd never tried to exclude him from a battle due to it. She sure as fel never hesitated in sharing monetary rewards with him either, and on the rare times when both of them wanted the same item and couldn't properly divide it, the two just flipped a coin, or played a game of Thrust or two. She never excluded him.
Maybe she'd decided to help someone out…but again, why hadn't she gotten him? For all her talk about the glory of battle and the eternal goal of greater strength, Rielle had a wide streak of altruism in her. Maybe she'd decided that between a day spent with the man she'd spent years with and a day spent aiding someone she might never see again, sometimes the latter was a better thing…but why would she make such a choice a mystery?
Zackel drummed his free hand on the table, trying to get his feelings under control. He didn't own Rielle, any more than she owned him. She could go off and do whatever she pleased, within reason, and she sure as fel didn't need him to look after her. She'd survived, quite well, before she'd met him, during the period they were apart, and at the several points they'd separated to work on individual tasks. And fel, he himself had been doing his little musing on how no day should be held up as special when it came to a relationship. So what if she went off and did something else today? What was the worst that could happen, beyond the realm of possibilities Zackel didn't want to think about? So he lost the room, and their privacy, if the main glut of adventurers came back (unless Zackel won the card games, but he wasn't as good at those as he was at other types of games, and he doubted he could talk all the adventurers into a Thrust tournament). Big deal. They could be in Stormwind in a week, or other, smaller bits of civilization in less time, if it came down to the private matters of their relationship. He'd survive…
But they'd made plans. He'd wracked his brain to try and think up something special for her. Instead, she'd run off for whatever reason, without a message or word left behind. For no certain reason, except that it had involved battle.
The battle, Zackel darkly recalled, that Rielle had said was even better than sex for her at times. If he knew anything about his girl, he knew how true that was. He'd seen it, many times. She loved him…and she loved the fight.
Maybe she'd wanted her cake and to eat it too, and had ended up with her cake on the floor. The cake being him. It was around then Zackel realized he had no idea where he was going with the metaphor.
Well, that left him with two choices. The lifestone's range covered half of the Twilight Highlands (and the ocean beyond the docks, but no ships had been launched today, so unless Rielle had decided to jump in the water and spontaneously grow fins and gills, he could leave that out): Zackel could look for Rielle for days and not find her. So, with that fact evident, he could sit here and wait for her…and if things abruptly turned really bad, he could find a way to re-assess the 'For days' part.
Not like anything could happen, unless Cho'Gall himself decided to come out of his bastion and challenge Rielle to one on one combat. Besides that, how bad could it get?
Rielle honestly wondered two things. One was how, no matter how many times she went through it, how simple things becoming anything but simple kept happening to her.
The other was whether the whole Twilight Highlands was on fire now. It sure seemed like it.
Rielle had finally stopped paying attention to what exactly was going on three hours ago, when the THIRD side of the issue they'd ended up being dragged in emerged. As far as the Draenei could tell, it had something to do with a powerful magic necklace/focus device, two factions in the Twilight's Hammer wanting it for themselves (as well as part of the Black Dragonflight, said third side), a Wildhammer shaman who wanted it destroyed, and all sorts of power-grabs, betrayals, backstabbings, as well as a great deal of blathering about the inevitability of the end of the world, mixed in. It didn't help that said dwarf had a rather dull way of speaking, causing Rielle to tune out during half of the explanations. In truth, she didn't really care. All she needed to know was where the targets she had to hit with her axe were, at which point she began doing that until they weren't a problem any more.
Considering how it had ended up, maybe she should have paid more attention.
It had finally climaxed in the strange pit-arena known as the Crucible of Carnage, whose gladiator battles had been subsumed by a far greater threat. The three sides had converged there, Rielle's group hot on their heels, but not before one of the Twilight's Hammer's sides had won, their leader uniting the necklace and transforming themselves into a fearsome elemental ascendant. The first thing 'Emberscar the Devourer' had done was incinerate both his enemies AND his allies, declaring them useless now in the service of the Hammer. The second thing was to begin trying to set the whole arena on fire in preparation for something, or in honor or Ragnaros, or because Emberscar liked to watch things burn, his opinions seemed a touch inconsistent. It was around then that Rielle and her allies had gotten properly involved; the Wildhammer shaman, one Hargoth Dimblaze, warned that the Red Dragonflight's flank was still exposed in regards to the attack they'd launched, and that if Emberscar attacked them while they were trying to properly withdraw from said attack, the results for the likely worn and weary dragons would be disastrous. Rielle did not bother to question if, or how, Emberscar could know about the attacks, or where the Red Dragonflight's exposed flank was, or, being fully in the grip of CRUSHKILLDESTROY that so many Twilight Hammer members got into whenever they awakened or unleashed a transformed state, if he had anything resembling the intelligence and sense to do something that tactically skilled. All she knew was she had eleven people, including one very surprising, and familiar face, who were counting on her to pull her weight, and a deadly threat to her own self, her allies, and who knew what else. That was enough, and into the fray she went.
Time slowed down. The world fell away. All there was was the fire and her enemy (and it was one hell of a fire. Rielle was REALLY wishing she'd brought Zackel along), and sometimes her allies, lashing out with their own weapons and magic. Despite the odds, Emberscar did not seem concerned an iota, roaring mad laughter and unleashing terrible flame in a myriad of ways.
"Oh Wodin, what a match! I would be even more excited if I wasn't already so completely terrified! Why did we invite this guy again?" Gurgthock the goblin said, crouched behind a rock that allowed him to peer down into the Crucible when he dared to stick his head out.
"We didn't." Wodin replied
"Maybe we should have not invited him more firmly!"
"Duly noted."
"AHAHAHAHAHA!" Emberscar bellowed, lava pouring down the sides of the rock basin, the Alliance members furiously trying to outright avoid the molten rock and use their various powers to stave off convection. "Burn in the liquid heat of the Firelands!"
The crimson axe lashed out, but Emberscar, by some divine (or likely anything but) providence ducked underneath the blow and unleashed an explosion of flame in return. Rielle rolled with the blast, flipping back onto her feet four meters from the elemental.
"You know, I fought with your master when he tried to invade Mount Hyjal." Rielle said. "What hope do you really think you have?"
"What hope have YOU? My end is a prize FAR beyond your grasp!" Emberscar yelled, and slammed his hand out, hurling more fireballs at Rielle.
"That's not really a-" Rielle managed to get out before she dodged to the side, sprinting at an angle even as more fire exploded around her. Her feint worked, as Emberscar exposed himself to a knife, a bolt of electricity, and brilliant glowing light that slammed into his back. All it did, though, was make him turn around and fire in the other direction.
Rielle took that as a cue to charge in, her axe lashing out.
Emberscar turned back at the last second, his burning hands grabbing the axe-edge in mid-blow. Rielle felt the creature's horrific body heat burn her through her armor, even as she stared into its malefic gaze.
"I think you've lived long enough." Emberscar said. "What say you?"
The explosion blew Rielle across the pit, the force flipping the Draenei over and causing her to land on her face. Despite that, she'd held onto her axe, even as she tried to struggle to her feet.
"Exactly." Emberscar said, and thrust up his arms. Fire exploded in the clouds above the Crucible, before sheets and pillars of flame tore from within their black depths and came surging down into the arena.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Emberscar shrieked, watching his Draenei enemy vanish underneath one of his fiery bombs, even as the other ones around him ran for their lives. Oh, they did not relent, he could feel their blows hitting him, the fools still taking shots even as they tried not to die, but it was all futile, they would all cease to be before he did…
The thunderous impact rang up his legs, the vibration having extended forward along the ground before Emberscar. The elemental jerked his head to focus on the sight in front of him. Moments ago, there had been nothing there except fire. Then, with one incredible stomp, most of it had been blown out, leaving scattered remnants and the Draenei figure.
Said Draenei who was also on fire, her armor blazing in several spots. Rielle didn't even seem to notice, fixing Emberscar with a withering glare so intense that it gave the ascendant pause.
"I got something to say." Rielle said, lifting her also-ablaze axe. "Better to burn out, than fade away."
The rain fell on her moments later, healing waters called by the shamans, extinguishing the flames. Rielle didn't seem to notice that either.
"…what ARE…no! ALL FLESH BURNS!" Emberscar thundered, and pistoned out his hands, more fireballs blasting from his hands.
The ground shattered beneath Rielle's foot as she took off, charging right at Emberscar, the fireballs impacting on her and not slowing her an iota.
"WHAT…?"
"I am the one, the only one, you may call me KINGDOM COME." Rielle answered, her axe rising up as she stampeded towards her target. "GIVE ME THE PRIZE!"
Emberscar thrust out his arm to intercept the weapon again.
The axe blade struck his hand once more.
This time, it kept going.
Rielle tried not to enjoy the look of astonished pain that came over the ascendant's face. Tried, and failed, as she forced her axe directly down the center of Emberscar's arm, ripping it out just before she reached the shoulder and yanking it up, cleaving most of Emberscar's head off with one final thrust.
Shouldn't have given my axe a chance to resonate with your particular bio-combustion wavelength, moron.
Even as Rielle struck her blow, she felt the heat begin to build. She knew what it meant, all too well. One final blaze of glory from her enemy.
Yeah, not happening.
Rielle whirled even as she completed her fatal-head slice, her axe lashing out one final time and impacting against Emberscar's body, sending the corpse flying across the arena and burying itself in the far wall. As her final thought of how she perceived her opponent, Rielle turned her back on him.
The explosion, muffled by the partially-entombed cadaver, was still enough to blast a heat shockwave across the arena and crumble most of the wall the ascendant had been impacted into. Rielle did not move an inch from the pulse, her tattered cloak whipping in the hot wind, blood sizzling on her axe. Rielle held her breath until the air had cooled, before inhaling deeply and swinging her axe up over her shoulder.
"I guess that answers my question." Rielle said, looking over her shoulder at the mound of scorched rock. In one final snub, she mimed biting her thumb at the pile.
"…I DON'T BELIEVE IT! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION OF CARNAGE! OUR BIG, BAD, BEEFY CHALLENGER HAS BEEN DEFEATED BY A RAGTAG CREW OF NOBODIES!" Gurthock yelled
"Hey!" Fhaerris protested, while the Wildhammer dwarf poured more healing rain on her hissing armor.
"You know what I mean! INCREDIBLE FINISH!"
"…Wow. That was kinda awesome." The rogue said, regarding Rielle before looking at the other Draenei, and shaman, of the party.
"There's nothing KINDA about her."
Zackel admitted to himself, when the lifestone had begun seriously heating up, all his irritation had vanished beneath concern. But the heat didn't last long, and once the lifestone cooled off and settled into a calm, baseline temperature that didn't change any more, the mage found his blacker feelings returning.
Despite that, he did not forgot what he observed. Whatever her reasons may have been, Rielle had engaged in some severe combat. She probably wouldn't be feeling springtime fresh, and being belligerent and hostile towards her, on top of not being in his nature, wouldn't solve anything.
Knowing that and keeping it in mind, however, were two different things. So when he finally heard the footsteps approaching, roughly another hour later, he did not rise from his chair. Instead, he kept his face away from the door, looking at the wall, until the knob finally turned. Zackel glanced, with his eyes alone, to confirm that it was Rielle.
The Draenei, in a rare occurrence for her, did not catch the motion. Instead, she entered the room to see her boyfriend and long-time love staring at the wall, drumming his fingers on the table. After a few seconds, he finally looked properly at her.
"…hi." Rielle said, trying to keep her tone neutral.
"…Based on how you look, I hope you got paid." Zackel said, his tone also even.
"…Well, you see…that's the funny part of the story…" Rielle said, heading into Zackel's room, dragging her axe along the ground behind her. "Everyone who could have paid me…was evil. Evil and dead. Primarily dead now. It's funny, but not in the funny ha ha sense."
"…I gathered." Zackel said, getting up. With Rielle having gotten closer, and the marks of war more evident on her armor, Zackel had felt his irritation die down, replaced again by concern. Part of him, a small part but there, yelled at him to not just forget all his grief because she walked in the door battered and bruised. She'd GOTTEN battered and bruised without him, and done it instead of spending time with him, and considering she hadn't immediately offered an explanation, it didn't exactly speak of the most noble of motives. The part, however, was not dominant, and so Zackel quickly reached his girlfriend and escorted her to his chair.
"Ahhhhh…oh, no. Not gonna be good enough. Ow." Rielle said. "Zackel, could you…?"
"On it." Zackel said, as he began helping the Draenei out of her armor. He hissed between his teeth once or twice; despite whatever healing she'd gotten, it clearly had missed a spot or two, leaving the Draenei criss-crossed with burns and marks of wear from her armor, further disfiguring her blueish-purple skin.
"I assume this will require repairs." Zackel said, regarding the armor.
"It always does." Rielle said, idly grabbing the rose-container and shoving it to the edge of the table in order to put her axe on it. Zackel blinked, wondering if the Draenei had even been aware of what she'd pushed aside, or just registered it as an object she had to move to put her weapon down.
"Zackel? Potions? Any?"
"…of course." Zackel said, digging into one of his bags. Rielle sighed contentedly as the mage dripped the healing tinctures on her scattershot injuries.
"Oh light…Zackel, I know you wanna know what's going on…but I've had it. I just want to lie down. I'm sorry but…I'm tired." Rielle said, before batting her eyes at the mage.
"If you're trying to trick me into not being cross, it's not going to work, my dear."
"What if I threatened to punch you instead?"
"You said it yourself. You're in no state to hit anything."
"…curses…foiled again…" Rielle said, before she held out her arms. Zackel didn't bother questioning if the Draenei could walk: he helped her up and over to the bed.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…oh this beats a sleeping bag. Or straw-filled mattresses." Rielle said, relaxing on the feather-filled bedding, a small pillow tucked behind her back.
"Tends to." Zackel said, offering Rielle a flask of water which she snatched and greedily drank. "Food?"
"No…I'm good."
"So…it was a hard day."
"Fel for the company. And my brain cells. I think even you would have had trouble. In regards to the matters with the brain cells, that is. Probably the other too. It was that kind of day." Rielle said, leaning further back. "Speaking of….yeah. Today."
"Yeah."
"I'm wiped, Zackel. Things just…went differently. Y'know?"
"…It happens." Zackel said, walking over and grabbing the chair he'd been sitting in, pulling it over to the bed while he reached into his robes. Rielle glanced at the motion, and her face brightened when Zackel removed a grinding stone.
"You sweet thing."
"Things didn't go as planned. I compensate. It's what I do." Zackel said, lifting up one of Rielle's legs before he began gently buffing at her hoof with the stone. Rielle closed her eyes and sighed at the pleasant sensation.
Zackel, meanwhile, pondered his options. He'd ruled out being cross, and his attempt to shame her with the hoof-polish didn't seem to be working out either. What else could he do? Try and extract some promises from her? Use wordplay in her tired state to…no, that was something Sparse would do. Maybe he should just suck it up and live with it…
Except THAT wasn't fair either. There were all sorts of pitfalls in a relationship, a lot of which you never saw or never conceived of. Letting Rielle think that this was completely-acceptable behavior fell under that umbrella, as far as Zackel could tell. He shouldn't just keep quiet because it was the easier and kinder thing to do. If he did that, who knew where it would lead. Better to take the harder road…
"Look, Rielle…I think that…" Zackel said, looking at the Draenei.
Her soft snore was her only reply. Its cuteness, however, was lost on Zackel at the moment.
"…Yeah, right. Of course. Big surprise." Zackel said, gently placing Rielle's foot down on the bed. Adjusting the covers, the mage tucked the alien in, slightly adjusting her position so she wouldn't wake up with a muscle cramp. The alien slept through it all, and Zackel closed the thin curtains so the beginning to emerge moonlight wouldn't bother her.
Keeping as quiet as possible, Zackel gathered up his staff and general personal objects, and left the officer's room, locking the door behind him. He waited until he was several steps away from said door before he began letting his mood influence his footsteps.
It might have been better if he'd exerted more control, as his heavy tread kept him from noticing the figure in the shadows of the main dormitory, who waited for him to walk past and head outside before rising to follow him.
