While observing the whole scene, especially the tentacle monster, Rylothia would ask the draenei if she sudden appearance of the creature would make for a good tale to be written on paper.
He shoves the Void Elf aside rudely, eyes fixed on the tentacle monster, axes drawn and a manic grin on his face. "Time ta be wettin' me blades. Dis void crazy done enough damage. RRRAAAAAAGHH!" Then he leaps at the monster for some good, old-fashioned carnage.
Watches over the troll on case he needs healing or any other support after defeating the monster.
Just for the case, additionally observing his movements and weak spots in the fighting style.
Just for the case, additionally observing his movements and weak spots in the fighting style.
Offer her a pair of goggles... but not just any goggles! A used pair of Gnomish Various Visionâą goggles. He goes on to explain the variety of features; size adjustment, in variety, sensors (audio too!), types of vision (including the newly added Fel!), user recognition and secret pockets!
Zirahael would back off to a safe distance from the Gnomish salesman.
She would then watch as his goggles predictable malfunctioned; their audio-function bugging out and rendering Finklebert deaf from a sonic shriek version of his last played song; their hidden laser-beam option misfiring into his skull and burning out the back of his head; the pockets failing simultaneously, crushing his gnomish skull with all the stored items being released at once, before finally the fel packages overloaded and exploded, causing the gnome to vanish in a bright green mushroom explosion that would irreparably taint the land in his immediate vicinity with demonic fel taint for the next two hundred years.
Ohhh, and this would all be happening as Finklebert is switched through many different, bigger and smaller, sizes; spraying the surrounding countryside in various sizes of gore and gallons of blood.
She would then watch as his goggles predictable malfunctioned; their audio-function bugging out and rendering Finklebert deaf from a sonic shriek version of his last played song; their hidden laser-beam option misfiring into his skull and burning out the back of his head; the pockets failing simultaneously, crushing his gnomish skull with all the stored items being released at once, before finally the fel packages overloaded and exploded, causing the gnome to vanish in a bright green mushroom explosion that would irreparably taint the land in his immediate vicinity with demonic fel taint for the next two hundred years.
Ohhh, and this would all be happening as Finklebert is switched through many different, bigger and smaller, sizes; spraying the surrounding countryside in various sizes of gore and gallons of blood.
Roifa would cast a singular glance at Zirahael, pondering if she's been smoking something strong recently given the fact she's clearly observing something nobody else can actually see. Or probably even wants to see, for that matter.
He'd glance over at Finklebert and consider asking him if he's got a spare pair of goggles that he could try out.
He'd glance over at Finklebert and consider asking him if he's got a spare pair of goggles that he could try out.
*show him her obviously apparent, long braided hair before asking if he needs glasses*
"Sometimes we all need the hair out of the way, especially when a fight is bound to get messy..." - he proceeds to gather his mane into a tail, except one strand doesn't stay in place because most of its length has fallen victim to the swipe of an enemy blade. The strand hangs annoyingly over his face, and he blows it away, but it makes a comeback as soon as he moves his head. Letting out an exasperated growl, he catches its tip, pulls it away from his face and slices it off with the end of a glaive.
"Brother, you... do realize you can see through you hair, right? We're wearing blindfolds, too, why wouldn't we be able to see through hair?"
Lytandrah snickers and tilts her head so her hair falls in front of her blindfold.
"Yep. Nothing's changed."
She shrugs and brushes the hair out of her face, back to its original position.
"So, doing anything tonight? I feel like going out for hunting. Some company would be nice."
Lytandrah snickers and tilts her head so her hair falls in front of her blindfold.
"Yep. Nothing's changed."
She shrugs and brushes the hair out of her face, back to its original position.
"So, doing anything tonight? I feel like going out for hunting. Some company would be nice."
"I can relate to what he is saying. Some of us enjoy looking perfect even when doing some dirty work." The blonde demon huntress says while fixing her own hair until she feels it is the way she wants it to be.
"Your face seems familiar. Don't recall from where. Don't think it is from the Temple. Very well. I will bless you with my company until I recall it."
"Your face seems familiar. Don't recall from where. Don't think it is from the Temple. Very well. I will bless you with my company until I recall it."
His eyes already noticeable from beneath the narrow blindfold, he turns halfway to Lytandrah and uses half-bent finger to push the side of the cloth all the way up, revealing a shining with Fel but otherwise regular eye: "They say I'm a curious case... I may not excel at finding demons - except when they don't bother to mask their smell - but I'm not as passionate for the hunt as I am for a regular old book... Ah well, I don't deserve all the frowns I get for not articulating my point clearly enough: there's enough of us that can do all these "revealing demons posing as nobility" tricks, and I'm not fit for the high espionage line of work anyway".
He then moves the blindfold back into place, low enough to hide most of the eerie shining but just in the right place to let him observe the surroundings from his considerable height, turns to LirĂșthien and says in a far less declamatory tone:
"I won't miss one strand out of the many, but I'd be pretty damn mad, - the last part is uttered through his teeth, - if it kept tickling my nose."
(P.S. I do have a character bio that explains everything, and I've done enough research to make it believable https://www.argentarchives.org/node/213849)
He then moves the blindfold back into place, low enough to hide most of the eerie shining but just in the right place to let him observe the surroundings from his considerable height, turns to LirĂșthien and says in a far less declamatory tone:
"I won't miss one strand out of the many, but I'd be pretty damn mad, - the last part is uttered through his teeth, - if it kept tickling my nose."
(P.S. I do have a character bio that explains everything, and I've done enough research to make it believable https://www.argentarchives.org/node/213849)
Gorhardt storms into the scene, and speaks plainly;
"Sensory input is irrelevant and outdated; for the damned there is only duty. To exist an abomination, without action against evil is slothful. An evil of it's self; if you have lost passion for your hunt, your -duty- you have little place on Azeroth. As I shall have no place, when no necromancers continue to stand.
Perhaps you would like to join me in eternal exile once justice against darkness is fully wrought?"
"Sensory input is irrelevant and outdated; for the damned there is only duty. To exist an abomination, without action against evil is slothful. An evil of it's self; if you have lost passion for your hunt, your -duty- you have little place on Azeroth. As I shall have no place, when no necromancers continue to stand.
Perhaps you would like to join me in eternal exile once justice against darkness is fully wrought?"
Roifa tries not to allow his only eye to somehow roll into the back of his skull as he addresses the Death Knight, but before he does, the warlord draws a very particular blade, and simply tosses it on the table... as if presenting his own license to offer commentary on the topic.
"Brother. You talk about evil of the self, yet you have consigned that very self to a fate of an automata. If you want to be brave.. why don't you try to humour some of that sensory input?"
The warlord would begin to pour some tea into a humble looking cup, the striations of his well formed limb and hand working to move as if he were alive, even if the rest of the world saw him otherwise.
"Start small. Like a cup of tea, or coffee. We are more whole than the rest of the unliving.. Therefore it's these small, meaningless things that can actually end up having more meaning than even someone alive would ever know."
With the cup filled to the top, Roifa would place it before Gorhardt.
"Try to enjoy it. You can vanquish the greatest evil in the world, but can you find meaning in your current state of existence- a meaning everyone else will tell you doesn't exist? Are you brave enough to see past your own wiring?"
With that, Roifa would continue to sip from his own cup of tea.
"Brother. You talk about evil of the self, yet you have consigned that very self to a fate of an automata. If you want to be brave.. why don't you try to humour some of that sensory input?"
The warlord would begin to pour some tea into a humble looking cup, the striations of his well formed limb and hand working to move as if he were alive, even if the rest of the world saw him otherwise.
"Start small. Like a cup of tea, or coffee. We are more whole than the rest of the unliving.. Therefore it's these small, meaningless things that can actually end up having more meaning than even someone alive would ever know."
With the cup filled to the top, Roifa would place it before Gorhardt.
"Try to enjoy it. You can vanquish the greatest evil in the world, but can you find meaning in your current state of existence- a meaning everyone else will tell you doesn't exist? Are you brave enough to see past your own wiring?"
With that, Roifa would continue to sip from his own cup of tea.
Darkian takes one glance at the Death Knight, then turns around the place with the most dramatic and exaggerated look of "Did you hear this nonsense too, or am I having hallucinations?", mouth half-open in a wide grin that threatens to escalate into a loud undignified laugh.
"Abomination? Darkness? Did you get the entire half-ounce of your self-esteem from a holy book? Do you write down all the insults you hear when you stroll down the Cathedral square, to learn them by heart and recite like a prayer out of love for pain? Serves you right for listening to humans... - he tilts his head, looking at the Knight more intently, studying his proportions. - Oh, you must be human yourself, - he says in a softer tone. - You must've become the very thing you hated. Such cruel irony... but you know what? You don't have to hate yourself just because others do. They're not the center of the universe, their "truth" is not absolute. You need to see perspective, and if you want to know mine... You're all right if you don't go around preaching hate. I don't care if you're undead, - he briefly exchanges a glance with Roifa, and then directs to the Death Knight a stern, intense stare, - but I gravely object to the rejects of society being hypocritical at each other. We monsters and outcasts get enough of that without any backstabs from our own."
He gets a cup of tea for himself, takes a sip and shrugs: "I prefer a stronger taste, but this'll do for you, dead sir... lest you be overwhelmed by all these pleasures you're missing. And your assumption is wrong. I didn't lose any passions, but with each day I'm discovering new ones. You fight better when you have something to fight for."
"Abomination? Darkness? Did you get the entire half-ounce of your self-esteem from a holy book? Do you write down all the insults you hear when you stroll down the Cathedral square, to learn them by heart and recite like a prayer out of love for pain? Serves you right for listening to humans... - he tilts his head, looking at the Knight more intently, studying his proportions. - Oh, you must be human yourself, - he says in a softer tone. - You must've become the very thing you hated. Such cruel irony... but you know what? You don't have to hate yourself just because others do. They're not the center of the universe, their "truth" is not absolute. You need to see perspective, and if you want to know mine... You're all right if you don't go around preaching hate. I don't care if you're undead, - he briefly exchanges a glance with Roifa, and then directs to the Death Knight a stern, intense stare, - but I gravely object to the rejects of society being hypocritical at each other. We monsters and outcasts get enough of that without any backstabs from our own."
He gets a cup of tea for himself, takes a sip and shrugs: "I prefer a stronger taste, but this'll do for you, dead sir... lest you be overwhelmed by all these pleasures you're missing. And your assumption is wrong. I didn't lose any passions, but with each day I'm discovering new ones. You fight better when you have something to fight for."
(The self esteem from a holy book made me laugh hard irl x)
Skip me!)
Skip me!)
The paladin raises his head, ironically enough, from a holy book, as he arches an eyebrow at the Demon Hunter, shaking his head slightly, as he shrugs. His annoyance is clear.
"You speak well, and true night elf, but I must take objection. Namely, your manifesto against prejudice is well and true, but it rings hollow when one hears your own prejudice against humans and humanity.
Especially if one looks at how your own people treat demon hunters. At least humanity doesn't have the wisdom of centuries at its side. People are afraid of what they do not understand.
Do not taint your own existence with imagined slights and wide generalizations. This world is not that simple. As for me, I judge no one except those who would harm the innocent."
The paladin pauses, nodding, before returning to the book.
"You speak well, and true night elf, but I must take objection. Namely, your manifesto against prejudice is well and true, but it rings hollow when one hears your own prejudice against humans and humanity.
Especially if one looks at how your own people treat demon hunters. At least humanity doesn't have the wisdom of centuries at its side. People are afraid of what they do not understand.
Do not taint your own existence with imagined slights and wide generalizations. This world is not that simple. As for me, I judge no one except those who would harm the innocent."
The paladin pauses, nodding, before returning to the book.
Roifa muses over the idea of making a joke about tin-cans and all things holy, but given that he is a creature receptive to reason, he instead gives Araphant's perspective time to sink.
Meanwhile however..
He pours another cup of tea, offering it to the Holy Knight before glancing at this makeshift-round-table.
"So.. a Paladin, a Deathknight, a Illidari Demon-Hunter and an Undead Warlord, walk into a bar.."
Meanwhile however..
He pours another cup of tea, offering it to the Holy Knight before glancing at this makeshift-round-table.
"So.. a Paladin, a Deathknight, a Illidari Demon-Hunter and an Undead Warlord, walk into a bar.."
"This is... a very insightful perspective, - there's not a hint of the usual sneer in Darkian's voice. - But the people you call my own harbor enough prejudice to last you for generations... To rephrase a popular saying: can't teach an Ancient oak new tricks", - serious conversation or not, Darkian can't resist a quip at the supposedly-wise people that still arouse in him a sense of betrayal.
"Perhaps my disdain is coming from humans being, how do you call it... the titular nation of this so-called Alliance. Can't trust anyone in a position of power... Now don't get angry at my doubts that the Alliance's only goal is peace in Azeroth - after all, such an assumption, however positive, would be just another generalization."
(Damn, of course a Rogue would be faster than myself, heh)
The unexpected joke makes him press a palm to his forehead right between the horns, both amused and slightly embarrassed.
"You just had to... ruin my philosophical mood... you old fox... - he forces out between the chuckles. - Here, I just spilled some tea! You must be real proud of yourself."
"Perhaps my disdain is coming from humans being, how do you call it... the titular nation of this so-called Alliance. Can't trust anyone in a position of power... Now don't get angry at my doubts that the Alliance's only goal is peace in Azeroth - after all, such an assumption, however positive, would be just another generalization."
(Damn, of course a Rogue would be faster than myself, heh)
The unexpected joke makes him press a palm to his forehead right between the horns, both amused and slightly embarrassed.
"You just had to... ruin my philosophical mood... you old fox... - he forces out between the chuckles. - Here, I just spilled some tea! You must be real proud of yourself."
Trying not to laugh, Roifa adds-
"We dead have a way of ruining things. It's a cliche I thoroughly enjoy living up to."
He takes another, amused sip from his tea, finally finishing it.
(Skip me!)
"We dead have a way of ruining things. It's a cliche I thoroughly enjoy living up to."
He takes another, amused sip from his tea, finally finishing it.
(Skip me!)
An undead , kill it on sight and decapitate it then throw the head to sme dog or pigs , you served your purpose freak , where is your dark lady now tool ?