*In echoing-demonic voice* "EAT HER!"
Or... ahem... *Cough*
She's a pirate, so of course I'd hang her! That is the only prop,-
"DEVOUR HER SOUL!"
...
I'd take her hat, her rum and lead her to the gallows!
Sneak up behind her in feral form, wait until she is tired then quickly end her before she knows what is going on.
Freeze him, as well as all possible hiding places around her, in place and then stab him with a shadow infused frost spike.
Illumielle waits in the shadows on the tree until Marivella get distracted by casting the spell on the fellow druid, then jumps and rushes to her as fast as possible. After reaching the melee range, Illu first punches the void elf in the head to prevent spellcasting, then throws her on the ground and asks the grass and the roots to hold her tight.
"Shouldn't have trusteed the blood elves kin."
The she finishes Marivella, and runs to inspect the Malaficus state.
"Shouldn't have trusteed the blood elves kin."
The she finishes Marivella, and runs to inspect the Malaficus state.
A generous dose of Agent Orange! (or it's Azerothian, no doubt goblin created, equivalent)
((although looking at her updated outfit it's nowhere as green&leafy anymore :p ))
((although looking at her updated outfit it's nowhere as green&leafy anymore :p ))
An unfortunate dinner-meeting with Fyassisi and her pet imps that gets out of control, and the kitchen is burned down. The Nightborne alternates between sobbing over Nakitaa's body and munching down on the cookies.
Accidentally knocking you down when trying to catch that imp in all that confined space, because I'm probably traveling and haven't had any demon blood for days. Or... how squeamish you are? Would you faint at the sight of an imp getting gored and eaten alive? In either case, the back of your head or neck hits a table corner in the least fortunate way.
A ricochet of Fel-imbued steel would split an ember of sparks against every crash, once, twice, thrice as the monsterous swings of the glaives would increment. The warlord would meet those blows squarely, and surprisingly match them hit for hit, blade withstanding abuse that it wasn't designed for, from angles no sword was meant to defend from.
This had gone on for a while now.
Blood trickled down the side of Roifa's head from a hit he put too much swagger into defending, gaze keenly pressed over the Illidari's form, the torque and strength of his movements. Even when they circled each other, it was clear this wasn't something the warlord could keep up, let alone his cracked blade.
''I have to admit...This is much more than what I expected. Do all Illidari fight like you?''
Tossing the broken blade aside, Roifa would reach for a weapon drawn from a scabbard of pitch black.
Runes would suddenly ignite across the blade of the sword.
[To be Continued(?)]
This had gone on for a while now.
Blood trickled down the side of Roifa's head from a hit he put too much swagger into defending, gaze keenly pressed over the Illidari's form, the torque and strength of his movements. Even when they circled each other, it was clear this wasn't something the warlord could keep up, let alone his cracked blade.
''I have to admit...This is much more than what I expected. Do all Illidari fight like you?''
Tossing the broken blade aside, Roifa would reach for a weapon drawn from a scabbard of pitch black.
Runes would suddenly ignite across the blade of the sword.
[To be Continued(?)]
(As usual, skip me)
This is simply beautiful. We need to team up for some writing and brainstorming sometime. My battle.net name is Carnivore (#21826, I'm woefully unaware of how these social features work)
This is simply beautiful. We need to team up for some writing and brainstorming sometime. My battle.net name is Carnivore (#21826, I'm woefully unaware of how these social features work)
(*Bows* I was actually inspired by this exchange https://youtu.be/DCjKkImnhlU?t=2899
At least from a sound and visual perspective, this is the kind of speed I think those two would fight at! )
At least from a sound and visual perspective, this is the kind of speed I think those two would fight at! )
(Curses on YouTube being down last night... Yeah, that's the right spirit, and about the right amount of flashy anime extravaganza)
Impressed by seeing what the undead could do in a fight, Mary would invite him to join her crew.
Once he was aboard, the Weeping Nancy would begin to sail eventually stopping by a seamingly desert island.
She would then leave him in the island with nothing but some clothes, a short blade and a pistol with about 20 rounds of ammunition. Informing him that the island was actually inhabited by terrible monsters and animals, the ship would set sail once again.
Once he was aboard, the Weeping Nancy would begin to sail eventually stopping by a seamingly desert island.
She would then leave him in the island with nothing but some clothes, a short blade and a pistol with about 20 rounds of ammunition. Informing him that the island was actually inhabited by terrible monsters and animals, the ship would set sail once again.
Shoot her with a rifle.
With a plush effigy of an Alliance Footman, that conceals an azerite bomb.
Simple.. for calling her a treat, She'd Fel-chain Elyssa to the ground and seperate her from her runeblade.. Then let Snuggles feast on the poor elfling
steal her soulstone and let the legion know where she is sleeping ?
Follow her until she decides to stop for the rest of that day, and sneak up to her bag and steal the soulstone she stole a while ago. He silently utters an incantation: "Alaar xirasath zithel". As he finishes, a small, green rune briefly appears on the soulstone and quickly disappears. He then places the soulstone back into her bag and sneaks back out, knowing that the moment she'd get as close to it as for grabbing her bag, the soulstone will erupt in felfire that will consume both her body and soul.
While he moves away with a grim smile on his face, there is only one thought in his mind: "You deserve worse."
While he moves away with a grim smile on his face, there is only one thought in his mind: "You deserve worse."
Alizael slips into the shadows, becoming as one with them through her grasp of magic; not quite invisible, but by no means easy to spot. Hours would be spent stalking, keeping to trails along the leylines, to exist within a blindspot of spectral sight's magical gaze...
Only to finally strike from the shadows, with blades of cold void; in a swift execution of one of many plans in her mind. Likely spotted in this assault, and scarred by fel assaults.
Savoren seems to be a thoughtful type; the battle would play out slowly, two analytical minds, working off of one another's moves. Alizael's victory would be claimed through an element of unpredictability. The magic of the void, mostly a mystery. Her own studies of it, an exercise in mastery. A disciplined unison of martial and scholarly focus working in her favour.
She would end the fight with a shadow-step; to his back, one strike. A void rift as he turns. The second strike. And finally; whispers of madness, to throw off his focus; swift blows to the throat, the wrists, the chest.
After the fight, she would then reflect on her performance, and the performance of her foe, in the hopes of bettering herself; deeming the wounds taken to be too costly for such skirmishes.
Only to finally strike from the shadows, with blades of cold void; in a swift execution of one of many plans in her mind. Likely spotted in this assault, and scarred by fel assaults.
Savoren seems to be a thoughtful type; the battle would play out slowly, two analytical minds, working off of one another's moves. Alizael's victory would be claimed through an element of unpredictability. The magic of the void, mostly a mystery. Her own studies of it, an exercise in mastery. A disciplined unison of martial and scholarly focus working in her favour.
She would end the fight with a shadow-step; to his back, one strike. A void rift as he turns. The second strike. And finally; whispers of madness, to throw off his focus; swift blows to the throat, the wrists, the chest.
After the fight, she would then reflect on her performance, and the performance of her foe, in the hopes of bettering herself; deeming the wounds taken to be too costly for such skirmishes.
Upon the lands of the once mighty kingdom of Stromgarde, Thuldrell rides his stallion to patrol the borders of the last remaining Horde territory on the Eastern Kingdoms. The sun is setting, the wind blows gently upon his armor, and he is at peace, forgetting he is so close to Alliance lands. This would soon prove to be a mistake.
A Void Elf strikes from the Shadows at his horse to dismount him, knocking the stallion to the earth in agony, Thuldrell snaps back to reality as he hits the ground. He draws his current weaponry, a duet of axes made specifically for slicing lightly armored foes and begins his search.
To his surprise, the void elf is nowhere to be found, and while most would fear for their lives at this point, Thuldrell would not budge. Fear breathes mistakes, and mistakes leads to death. He's faced much worse. He grips both armaments with aggression, but his face shows a calm, stern, grimace. He's waiting for the assassin's next strike.
And so it came, the Void Elf appears out of the darkness of night. Only the moonlight illuminates this skirmish as the Void Elf attacks once more to strike at the Nightborne's armor, forcing him to go on the defensive, waiting for the right time to strike.
Thuldrell's armor is beaten and battered from the rogue's blades. Some of the pieces missing from being cut away, yet still the soldier stood calm and fearless. He awaits her last move, to go in for the finishing blow, calculating every single move she could make, and she fell right into a trap.
As she appears from behind to slice his throat, he grabs her arm just before she could connect the knife to his neck. He throws her over himself and onto the ground with the force of a mighty oak. Now, with the Void Elf stunned, Thuldrell stands over her and before she could even think of her next move, the Nightborne lops her head in twain...
He takes his leave, leaving her corpse to be food for whatever beasts make their home here and heads for his outpost... on foot.
A Void Elf strikes from the Shadows at his horse to dismount him, knocking the stallion to the earth in agony, Thuldrell snaps back to reality as he hits the ground. He draws his current weaponry, a duet of axes made specifically for slicing lightly armored foes and begins his search.
To his surprise, the void elf is nowhere to be found, and while most would fear for their lives at this point, Thuldrell would not budge. Fear breathes mistakes, and mistakes leads to death. He's faced much worse. He grips both armaments with aggression, but his face shows a calm, stern, grimace. He's waiting for the assassin's next strike.
And so it came, the Void Elf appears out of the darkness of night. Only the moonlight illuminates this skirmish as the Void Elf attacks once more to strike at the Nightborne's armor, forcing him to go on the defensive, waiting for the right time to strike.
Thuldrell's armor is beaten and battered from the rogue's blades. Some of the pieces missing from being cut away, yet still the soldier stood calm and fearless. He awaits her last move, to go in for the finishing blow, calculating every single move she could make, and she fell right into a trap.
As she appears from behind to slice his throat, he grabs her arm just before she could connect the knife to his neck. He throws her over himself and onto the ground with the force of a mighty oak. Now, with the Void Elf stunned, Thuldrell stands over her and before she could even think of her next move, the Nightborne lops her head in twain...
He takes his leave, leaving her corpse to be food for whatever beasts make their home here and heads for his outpost... on foot.
Being a witness of Thuldrell's fight against one of her kin and her eventual defeat, Laurenn had a desire to avenge her and repay the Nightborne for his act. She was unaware the attack was started by the Ren'dorei, starting to watch once he's drawn his blades. So she followed him walk away, from quite a distance.
Her first attacks weren't the physical ones through firing any spells towards him, it was the whispers to his head she started with. He could hear a feminine voice speak to him repeatedly.
"You've... killed her. You've taken away a life, you've sent one of your far cousins away to the other world. In the name of what? The Horde? A faction which doesn't care about your kin the slightest apart from using you as weapons?"
She'd keep following as she speaks into his head, keeping a safe distance so she remains unnoticed which isn't impossible in the dark night.
At some point, where she believes Thuldrell could've started doubting himself, she closes the distance between them. Once Laurenn is in the Nightborne's sight, she quickly calls a couple of tendrils that immediately wrap around his legs and keep him in place.
When he tries to break out of the hold, Laurenn begins chanting a complex spell of some sort. Her eyes darken, her hands move as she chants the incantation. A large, body-sized sharp ice spike forms above her head, later infused with shadow energy that surrounds it.
And she fires, aiming at his chest. The spike manages to pierce through armor, landing a hit on Thuldrell's heart. The tendrils disappear, letting go of him and letting the elf fall on the ground. She speaks to him, paying no mind to whether he's alive or dead by now.
"Eh... I wish it didn't have to come to this. Shorel'aran shal'dorei, rest well in your afterlife. Now at least no one will raise you from the dead, like it'd happen if you passed out in a battle for the Horde."
Her first attacks weren't the physical ones through firing any spells towards him, it was the whispers to his head she started with. He could hear a feminine voice speak to him repeatedly.
"You've... killed her. You've taken away a life, you've sent one of your far cousins away to the other world. In the name of what? The Horde? A faction which doesn't care about your kin the slightest apart from using you as weapons?"
She'd keep following as she speaks into his head, keeping a safe distance so she remains unnoticed which isn't impossible in the dark night.
At some point, where she believes Thuldrell could've started doubting himself, she closes the distance between them. Once Laurenn is in the Nightborne's sight, she quickly calls a couple of tendrils that immediately wrap around his legs and keep him in place.
When he tries to break out of the hold, Laurenn begins chanting a complex spell of some sort. Her eyes darken, her hands move as she chants the incantation. A large, body-sized sharp ice spike forms above her head, later infused with shadow energy that surrounds it.
And she fires, aiming at his chest. The spike manages to pierce through armor, landing a hit on Thuldrell's heart. The tendrils disappear, letting go of him and letting the elf fall on the ground. She speaks to him, paying no mind to whether he's alive or dead by now.
"Eh... I wish it didn't have to come to this. Shorel'aran shal'dorei, rest well in your afterlife. Now at least no one will raise you from the dead, like it'd happen if you passed out in a battle for the Horde."