Tormented Souls

[ThePharaoh]

The knight had done many things in the ways of politics for his family. He still had his loyalty to the Ebon Blade however. The order that freed him, and even pushed him through the gates of shadow to ascend to what he had become. The metallic voices and footfalls of marching knights echoed around the stone walls. A lone elven death knight remained swinging his blade at a training dummy, he seems to lack aggression and appeared focused. The ghoul beside him stoped as another Orc Death Knight approached.

"Can I help you, Talah'dorei?"

"Just watching."

The elf wearing a black sleeveless hooded cloak sheathed the sword. The other knights idly marching by as the Orc and Elf stood in the middle of the black blood stained arena, littered with limbs, old and new. "Perhaps you're up for a match." The elf said, his hood hung low covering his runic blue eyes and the bridge of his nose. His lips were covered in what appeared to be a black cloth mask. His exposed flesh on his arms was dead and had been for some time, grey and leathery decorated with exotic black runes. The orc removed his axe, nodding. He death gripped the elf pulling him towards him sinking the axe into the smaller knight's chest. Black liquid dripping to the ground slowly like oil. The knight stood looking up to the orc as the axe remained in his chest.

The runes on his shoulders began to flicker as the shadow from the death grip slowly creeped into the body of knight. His dead flesh threaded together. In the elf's moment of rejuvenation, the orc swung the axe quickly with a powerful strike. The elf blocked it taking the pressure with his own sword. He wasn't strong enough to over power or even match the orc, but he had just enough to stop his momentum. His sword began to burn with black fire as he retaliated, metal clanging singing over the arena. The elf jumped back after he was slashed in the shoulder; blood trickling down his arm leaping from his fingers. He summoned his armor as it covered him in black fire, he was now fortified at least.

The battle continued in the orc's favor, Jidaeo only being able to block, and take attacks. The elf's body even in the armor was much lighter than the Orcs; the two blades crossed before Jidaeo was slashed once more with hair falling down over his eyes. He watched the orc blinking slowly, he used an armored thumb to slowly brush fine strands of milk white hair from his face. He raised a finger to his nose and lips vertically as if giving a 'shh' gesture. In his other hand he held his sword tightly by the hilt. The runes on the blade came alive as black fire burned over the metal. He ran to the orc slashing him with shadow, the orc turned running as if it was his only option. The elf finished his arc watching the orc who had moved further away by the wall, the tip of his blade dropped against the ground with a clank. He held it tightly by the hilt.

"What was that?"

"A vision..."

The two began speaking. The elf commented on the orc's skill noting that he was quite dangerous. However he noted the orc lacked focus, the orc responded that because of his nature, and his hunger it was difficult for him to qualm that side. The elf said he was strong enough to walk the path, but warned him it would only make the hunger more severe. The Orc agreed. "I wish to show you the Torment of over one thousand souls....will you walk with me brother?"

(( Hurr this was my 1,000th post. ))

[ThePharaoh]

Jidaeo knelt in Ebon hold looking over the architecture of the gothic stronghold. His dark cloak pooled around him, as if he was melting into a puddle of silk oil. He had acquired another apprentice, one who pulled at his soul. She mirrored what he was, who he was years ago. Angry, abandoned, confused, and wild. Violence without guidance, she was an elf around the same age as his youngest daughter Xanthe. She died far too young, and was abandoned by her family because of what she was. Jidaeo felt guilty that even though his family didn't like the afflicted members of his house they were still more or less accepted. How would she be if her family was as forgiving? She remembered her name, but only went by Sucrare.

It was in this time he just wished to get to know his apprentices, he needed to know their strengths, their weaknesses and what would be their biggest problems during the final trial. He would need to work on calming both of the fires of their burning souls; their rage leads to irrationality. The Orc Coldbane has an impressive hold over shadow manipulation naturally. A shaman in life, he was killed becoming the warrior he is now. Sucrare seems to have a little more trouble with the concept but her tenacity is unrivaled surprising even her master of a few occasions. When they develop more, I wish to see how they deal against each other, for now they will not know of the other. Their business is their own, as long as they serve unwavering for the Ebon Blade. I wished to keep myself private, only to open them up. For trust, for training. Both have started shadow manipulation. Coldbane took up to it very quickly. Sucrare had difficulty at first but showed impressive resilience and tenacity.

The elf slowly rose, his long white hair falling down the silk oil cloak. He drifted towards a Balcony where a large Dragonhawk awaited, he hopped on the back holding on with a death grip and flew off.

It may be time for them to forge their new runeswords.