(( Right, since I'm quite thrilled with the concept of IC exploration of the new broken world (yeah, I like doing things IC even when there's no one around to RP it with), I figured I might see if I could be bothered to jot down some stuff based on Tiar's first experiences in the world. This one's sort of the prologue, explaining why Tiar is where he is and stuff. All based on ingame stuff I did tonight. Note that parts after the first one will contain some spoilers about the new zones, so if you want to explore it all and not have anything revealed by story such as this, then you can read the first part safely, but should be wary of the following ones (assuming there are following ones, inspiration is a flimsy little thing) ))
The Broken Hand, The Broken World
Part One: Revenge
Inhumane screams of pain and death echoed across the streets of Brill, only barely overcoming the sounds of combat, metal clanging against metal, heavy footsteps slamming against the pavement, muffled grunts and groans of the combatants. Somewhere in the surrounding forests some hideous beast or another cried out with an eerie voice capable of keeping a grown man awake at night. Tiaraszh did not know what the voice belonged to, but to be frank, he didn't give a fuck. A low growl escaped from his throat as he easily dodged an attacked by one of the town's guards. A swift rising swing with his sword sliced the forsaken in half, its empty soulless gaze losing what little life it had had left. He felt the life-force pouring out from the broken husk, twisted and unsavory like only that of an undead could be. It swirled and flowed across his sword and engulfed his body. In a gesture that could be best described as inhaling, he absorbed it all, feeling warmth temporarily spreading through his cold limbs. The aftertaste was a bit more bitter than usual, and the sensation less warm. It was somewhat like trying to smoke powdered wood and leaves instead of proper tobacco. He shrugged, it didn't matter.
He lowered his blade and prepared for another wave of defense. He saw a pack of guards gathering up at the other end of the street, planning to take him down by numbers instead of skill. His left hand held a steady grip on the hilt of his blade while the right one slipped into one of the many pouches on his belt and pulled out a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, savored the taste. A distant echo of what it had tasted like in life, but still one of the very few pleasures he still had.
Suddenly, in the corner of his eye he spotted movement. In a quick whirl he turned around, ready to face whatever was coming, cursing himself for letting his guard down. What he saw was a fearful forsaken, more a girl than a woman, clutching her arms around a basket full of wares she had probably been peddling on the street by the time Tiaraszh's one-man assault had started. It was an odd thing, kinship between the dead. In life, he would not have been able to discern one deadite from another, let alone figure out their emotions. Now, it seemed easier sometimes to read these creatures than it was to read ordinary people. Now, the forsaken's eyes filled with fear as she realized she'd been spotted. With a desperate cry she dropped her basket and dashed to her feet, making a run for the guards gathering nearby. Tiaraszh reached out, not with his hands but his mind, and with a violent pull yanked back the girl's essence. Air was knocked out of the girl's barely functional lungs as she flew across the air. Tiaraszh raised his sword and the girl was dead –for good this time– before she hit the ground.
There was a time when killing an innocent civilian, even a forsaken one, would've made him uncomfortable. That time had passed. It had faded into distance when he had died and it had passed for good in Hillsbrad. For every slain commoner, he would slay one of theirs. For every burnt house, he would burn one of theirs. He had not realized how much he had cared until he had seen the destruction. Until he had seen the ruins. There was a reason he was there by himself.
A frenzied war cry tore him back from his thoughts and snapped him back into the present. The guards at the end of the street had gathered their numbers and seeing one of their citizens murdered in cold blood ushered them into action. Tiaraszh drew a breath from his cigarette and prepared for their assault. The guards, five in total, charged forward with a wordless cry of pure rage, their armored boots stomping against the pavement and weapons swinging through the air. Tiaraszh was indifferent. These dregs stood no chance.
A sudden spike of pain pierced his consciousness and brought him properly back into the fight. Something sharp had sliced its way through his armor and sunk deep into his sinewy flesh. An echo of pain, as distant as the warmth of the cigarette, pulsed through his body as Tiaraszh turned around, only to see a slithe blood elf, armed with daggers and donning a Vile Thorn tabard, dash around him, dancing out of his sight once more. With new-found anger upon seeing the tabard, Tiaraszh swung his blade around in a wide arc, only to catch air. He cursed his own stupidity. He should know better than to try hit a Thorn with as badly aimed blow as that one. Right as he had managed to regain his composure, a chilling blast of pure ice slammed hard against him, piercing its tendrils all the way to his bones. He cursed again, this time aloud and quickly a burst of unholy energy erupted from his flesh to protect him from the second attacker's magical onslaught. Tiny threads of sickly green energy –threads that bound his entire form together– flowed from his body and formed a shell around him, just in time as another howling blast of icy magic slammed against the shell. Only mild traces of the attack sprinkled inside his barrier, but it was enough for him to recognize his second attacker as a death knight, much like himself.
As the barrier faded, Tiaraszh gave a quick mental command and nodded towards the Thorn. With an inhuman growl, a ghoul, animated and sustained by his own power, jumped from the shadows and leaped towards the blood elf, claws swinging and reaching for the elf's face. The Thorn was too quick for the beast's attack, but it did manage to pin him in place just long enough for Tiaraszh to swing his sword into a powerful attack. As his sword sliced through the air, another blast of ice slammed against him, followed by a swing of a massive weapon that Tiaraszh could barely avoid. The death knight had reached close combat. Already Tiaraszh could feel the freezing cold from the death knight's attacks numbing down his limbs. He barely felt the cold, it was but a drop in the ocean, a distant echo, but his body was responding slower and slower none-the-less. The tiny threads of energy that held him apart were slowly unraveling. His own swing connected with something, but he doubted it had wounded the Thorn enough to cause serious damage. Fighting a two versus one with the Thorn having gotten a surprise attack on him was definitely not working on his favour. Meanwhile, the guards were almost ready to jump in and swarm him like sharks. He jumped back to get some distance between himself and his opponents and launched a missile of swirling mist towards them, more in effort to distract than wound them. Time t' get the fuck outta 'ere, Tiaraszh thought.
He channeled out some of the magic which bound him together and directed it towards his undead minion that was still doing its best to rip the elf into shreds, with little success. The Thorn dashed forward and before Tiaraszh could react, the elf plunged his dagger against his right arm, sending a shockwave of pain through his body and almost breaking his concentration. The invisible threads of energy that kept his arm working were severed as cold blood oozed from the wound. Tiaraszh grunted, but he luckily he did not need his arm to finish what he was about to do. He sent a final pulse of energy towards the ghoul and watched as its form twisted and reformed. Muscles bulged out from its wiry frame, covering in thick sickly flesh what before was only bone and sinew. It grew in length and width, almost to twice its original size. As it let out a fearsome roar, green ooze splashed out from its mouth, from between a row of razor sharp teeth. The ooze made a vicious hissing sound upon hitting the ground. His two opponents stepped back in wary caution, if not outright surprise. It was nothing they hadn't seen before, he was sure. As the two prepared for the creature's brutal attack, Tiaraszh instead sent it charging towards the guards and in a tremendous show of force, it reached out to grapple one of the forsaken and then hurled it flying against the Thorn and his ally. As soon as the two dodged the unliving projectile, the monstrosity reached to grab another one to use as a throwing weapon. Spitting the burnt out cigarette stump from his mouth, Tiaraszh used the ensuing chaos to make a run for it.
As soon as he reached the forest he hid away from his pursuers, which were more numerous every moment. He'd been thwarted, for now. He had lingered too long, allowing for message from the town to reach out. For now, he'd vanish into the wilds and heal his wounds, a process not all that lengthy in his current state. With luck, a lone straggler or a scout would even stumble into his camp and he could use the unlucky sod to fuel his regenerative process. And then he would be back. And he would have his revenge. Even if the world would end around him.
