Sitting high up in the bowled Glade gave us both quite a good vantage point to view the executions. At least until the sun set.
Two had been performed so far, the first was a quiet affair- a bit of speech-making (inaudible from our 'seats'), some reshuffling on the platform where the entertainment was taking place and then a whumf followed by a head roll. Pretty basic as far as beheading goes really. The second prisoner became inconsolable, or uncontrollable- I'm not sure. Either way ghastly moans and sounds loudly reverberated around the unhallowed grounds causing half of the small group down below to jump back in surprise or fear.
They had arrived not an hour ago, a group of ten or thereabouts, simply walking into the area in box formation. Mort and I had been perched in some dried out and dead undergrowth far uphill awaiting their arrival so we had a pretty good view. In the centre of their troupe were three figures- hooded, chained and damned. Four glaringly white tabards signified Argent Dawn representatives, whereas the bound-in-ugly-looking-armour-and-shiney-blue-eyes heralded the Ebon Blade lot. The prisoners were in underclothes or padding only, though at this point, I don't really think they would have cared. The last of their group was a mountain with a halberd ("Tauren, strong as they look- wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that swing," Mort provided).
They had been dragged to the top of a plain stone square and each dragged to three of the four corners where Mort informed me they were tied to iron rings which once grounded cauldrons. I daren't ask what the cauldrons were used for. This gloomy place was more than enough creepy to signify that it was something not-so-friendly.
It was darkening quickly so the first execution was performed swiftly, no questions asked. The second… not so much. Once she heard her companion fall, hysteria took over and I realised her grotesque sounds was actually maniacal laughter. She had to be subdued by two retainers and the giant figure performing the deed moved forward to end it quickly before she grew worse. Her cackle resonated for a small while after her head stopped rolling.
It was dark now- too dark to attempt the third straight away so they fumbled around with torches and the like, making the situation look like some bizarre theatre act on stage. Even then this execution was dragging a little. Up until now, my undead companion had been wistfully silent, possibly revelling in each death as they dropped, but now he was becoming anxious and fidgety. There was some form of discussion going on down below and even I was becoming impatient with their procrastination. I made to say as much to Mort only to find he wasn't at my side anymore- he was half way down the hill.
"Bloody moron," I cursed and tentatively pressed forwards to follow him. I wasn't surprised he was away without my notice- a small something inside me informing me that this was natural for him. I stepped over a branch, just missing that rock there-
"Come on Edmund, keep up with me!" I laughed, oh how good it felt to stretch my legs!
The sun rose high and bright in the sky and I found I had to take my cloak off and roll up my shirt sleeves. With our good mood, I didn't notice my heavy bags, my aching feet, weary body or the shadowy figure that stepped into our path from behind a large stone. They had the sun haloing their figure like a celestial being from the books.
He spoke. It was ugly, crude…almost guttural sounds that were …inhuman. I felt cold. Adjusting to the light shining in my eyes I saw why he sounded weird.
It was a body. A corpse, to be exact. Dead…rotting…and walking right to us. Daggers flashed in the sunlight. I screamed. I ran.
A hand clamped over my mouth and the other around my abdomen brought me back to reality. Unable to get my bearings until Mort told me to calm down was very distracting before I realised I had moved positions- namely thirty or so feet's worth.
The Execution Party didn't seem to notice my tumble down the hill, apparently I had just dropped like a bag of rocks before he was able to catch me. Slowly releasing me, Mort stepped back, hands tentatively resting on my shoulders.
"What was that?" he demanded, voice raspy in its whisper. I wasn't even sure myself. Trying to recall the memory's details drew up blank but overall I just envisioned green everywhere. I could only shake my head as the dream faded to nothing.
"-know a lot about the Citadel! I was stationed there, part of the elite-" The voice was echo-y and male, deep too. Attention lost on me, Mort had already skulked to a new spot to eavesdrop.
"Silence!" A slap of flesh-on-flesh was heard. There were the shapes of crates nearby and scattered assorted litter on the floor still. I moved carefully over what I could see as I made my way further into the abandoned ritual site, joining my Forsaken companion.
"They have a prisoner! I was among those who captured her! I will tell you anything-" Another blunt crack echoed accompanied with a pained cry. Ouch, this guy was not getting off lightly.
"A moment, if you please, Koltira."
"Thassarian." Deathweaver moved backwards, away from the last prisoner- I still couldn't see him through the small crowd. He must be on his knees. Or the floor. My head twinged in recognition at the Thassarian's name- another Lieutenant, my mind supplied. I nodded in acceptance of this information, earning a brief glance from Mort.
"Why should we believe your information over what we of the Ebon Blade already know?" A small shuffle was heard- I saw a head appear briefly-naked of a hood, twisting around watching everyone. An Elf, judging by those ears.
"I was at the Citadel, most recently- I have no loyalty to Arthas! I can help you attack it! Ask me anything! " the cries were pathetic and probably unnecessary, he was not surviving this night.
"And if we already know what we need for a full-frontal assault?" Thassarian's line of questioning gave little away about how much they really knew, I felt. I think it was more to see how much this prisoner would be willing to give up.
"You don't! You at Acherus don't know what is going on in Icecrown! The Lich King saw that all contingents were kept ignorant-"
"Lies!" Deathweaver cried, moving fast.
"Koltira! Stand down!" –I just noticed his sword was raised, bright runes gleaming in the firelight. It was magnificent…
"Well done Cersae…you have successfully created your first runeblade weapon…Sow the seeds of chaos and destruction!""Move aside, Thassarian!"
Apparently Deathweaver didn't like being called 'ignorant'. He lowered it, but did not sheath his blade.
"I swear I care not for the Scourge King! Let me live and I shall prove it! I- I ran from here out of fear that you would slay us all! I was forced into this nightmare!" The prisoner was rambling and we all knew it. Silence was the man's only reply. None of the standing few said anything. I was glad not to be in that man's position right now. His petition was either being disregarded or silently considered. The man begged for mercy again. This reaction, the whole of it he had begged so far, seemed almost…human. I was not the only person to notice this.
"Would you be willing to swear allegiance to the Ebon Blade and give up your life if you must in defence of its beliefs?" Thassarian asked gently. Mort grumbled something under his breath- I had forgotten he was there, so enraptured was I in the drama unfolding before.
"Yes- of course! I was made to kill my younger brothers- I want revenge! Please, let me live and I will tell you everything!" The pleading was pathetic. Thassarian regarded everyone present. The four Argent Dawn representatives, their white tabards shining, were watching quietly, seemingly content to let the Ebon Blade work out its own quarrels. An older man- grey hair and beard giving him the appearance of a wiseman- donning a very decorative tabard moved to whisper with Thassarian. I assumed this to be Fordring. There was nodding and murmuring amongst the group.
"Very well. You will live and pledge your allegiance to the Ebon Blade- "
"No. Not the Blade. Swear it to the Dawn, and that way if you turn traitor, then on their heads be it for letting you live." Deathweaver cut in. His sword was now strapped across his back and his stiff stance added levity to his hostile tone. Thassarian and the others present regarded him. Fordring nodded.
"The Argent Dawn accepts your allegiance and you will offer all information regarding Arthas' movements in Northrend that you know. You will commit to the Dawn for the rest of your days and hereby swear to our laws." He moved in front of the Death Knight, blocking what little view I had of him. "Will you pledge your life to the Argent Dawn and its associated Chapters of your own free will, wholly and fully?"
"I, Terowin Darksworn pledge my fidelity, soul and life to the service of the Argent Dawn for eternity." The voice was ragged and ageless, I still couldn't see this 'Terowin Darksworn'. Deathweaver made a noise of discontentment but it was ignored as Fordring moved forward and a rattle of iron being unchained was heard. The knight stood up tall, a few inches taller than Fordring, blue eyes glowing bright. The Highlord reached forward and grasped the Knight's hand- where a large, incandescent light emitted from the joining. I threw my arms up to conceal my eyes, burning where they had briefly caught the radiance lighting up the Glade. Squinting, when it seemed safe, I took a moment to regain focus. Fordring was now glowing- as was the elven man he still had grasped.
"Welcome to the Argent Dawn, Terowin."
Darksworn looked awed and defeated at the same time. I briefly wondered if he would regret trading one master for another.