Revolutionary Etude

“Anetho grinned wickedly as he donned his cloak, regarding the Orc clad behind the mass of metal and leather. “…Do I look like a soldier? Or should everyone in the world hide behind a metal casket?”

Rebel 'NethoI emerge from the confines of my portal, a flash of brilliant red ley energies announcing me long before I fully materialize amidst the battlefield. The sounds of blood and glory overshadow any other, the beating of drums in the distance, cries of loyalty, desperation, and rage mingling into a single crude melody. I pull the first of three blades from my belt and smile at the display. Truly, there is no longer an elegance to warfare.

Mana swirls about my body like a wildfire, escaping along the ground with my every step. The sun reflects off of the pristine steel that comprises my rapier. I weave through the warmonger crowds as if dancing. Gracefully stepping around the many weighed down by their armor, before driving the tip of my weapon through the crevices that afford them movement. Dodge, parry, thrust! I catch his heart through the underarm, retracting my blade just in time to dodge the swing of an axe, ripples of mana alerting me to the movement of those all around. I place the palm of my left hand upon the Orc’s helm and fire emerges from within, escaping through whatever orifice it might. My overcoat flows in tandem with my movements, brilliant red waves sweep from grunt to grunt, amidst a battlefield.

His song plays loudly from the scrying orb I retain in my pocket. Carried everywhere I go, the presence of the pianist carried in my wake – his spirit far more capable than his body. I leap into the air, wings of darkness spread afar, carrying me to the edge of the heavens, before swooping down to drive the tip of my weapon through the skull of an unsuspecting Kor’Kron Guardsman, just moments away from cleaving one of the female menders. She looks up at me in awe and fear, as I shroud myself in the midnight energies, an attack from behind averted. I turn as my nefarious barrier fades from my body, and grin – allowing the Fel energies to flow through my veins as if fire through a forest.

The collective powers I command explode through my palms, shattering my sense of sound. The bolt of chaotic magic carries the Orc into the distance before it explodes, killing several of the revolutionaries and Orgrimmar foot soldiers. I draw upon the souls of the deceased, enemy and ally alike to fuel my rage. Their dying screams known only to me as they warp about my figure in violet hues. I crush their essence to form another spell, and send forth a massive green firebolt enhanced with their being. Nothing remains of the hapless victim, as it takes him into the sky and bursts into a thousand flaming meteors that now pelt the battlefield.

I procure an axe from the ground, raised clumsily. My right hand courses with dark magicks, an apotheosis meant to bring me within the realms of demonic power, fingers replaced by claws. I hurl the crude weapon into the back of another Orc, turning to my right in order to gouge another aggressor’s eyes from his sockets. I withdraw my right hand and disperse with the forbidden art – Moving in favor of my prey. From the corner of my eye I take note of his every movement. The Commander. His eyes meet with mine and I smile, flinging petty firebolts in rapid succession at him as I move to close the distance. They bounce harmlessly off of his enchanted breastplate. He swings his axe in a furious attempt to cleave me, unrelenting in his onslaught. I dissipate and reappear some feet away, retaliating with a more potent bolt of hellish energies. They knock him backwards, and yet he will not yield. He lunges forth at me once more, I roll along the ground, drawing my dagger from it’s post at my sleeve.

He drives a knee into my midsection, I feel his right hand pull me upright by my hair and he thrusts me against the foundation of a mountain. I kick my feet to no avail as he readies his weapon for the final curtain call. I drive the tip of my dagger into his right eye, and he releases me. I fall to the ground and roll right, as he drops the blunt edge of his axe in an attempt to crush my skull. He withdraws it and begins swinging wildly, clutching at his face with his free hand. I give myself to the darkness within, speaking an ancient incantation dating back to the days when the Well of Eternity once stood. Power courses through me, painfully so, as my visage warps to that of indescribable nightmares. I catch his hand in my own, digging azure claws through his gauntlet. My eyes narrow, and I slam my head to his, horns piercing the helmet and casting it aside as I shake it off.

He assaults my chest with his fist, attempting to wrench himself from my grasp to no avail. I flap my wings, giving way to a massive gust of wind as I ascend into the clouds. “Release me, coward!” He demands. “…As you wish.” I reply in a voice not rightly my own, fingertips receding from him. He cries out in a rage as he falls towards the battlefield. I follow suit, diving towards him. I plant my feet into his back, speeding our descent. He crashes against the ground, breaking my fall. I can hear the bones shatter beneath his armor as I use him for a flight of stairs, the magicks flowing from me once again, giving way to the fluttering of the tattered red coat, blowing in the breeze.

My eyes narrow, as I take note of the Orcish hordes descending now from the east, along the roads from Durotar. My blonde hair shimmers and scintillates before shifting at once to the bloodied red hue. “Form the lines! Form the lines!” I hear the rebel commander declare. Everyone mounted prepares for a charge – pikes, spears, and lances all fixated at the ready. I pull Orpheus from it’s sheath, the runic engravings blaze to life at my touch. I give it a swing, leaving a red afterimage in it’s wake before holding it at my side.

Horns sound in the distance – the Orcish ranks break into a charge, the Elven commander maintaining the rebels holds his hand aloft. “Steady! Steady!” Many of those present exchange uneasy looks, some waiver just a little. Nobody runs. “NOW!” He exclaims, releasing the undisciplined masses against the wave of Kor’Kron. They sally forth with a sort of fervor seldom seen in traditional military units… and without the level of organization that ensures maximum body counts. Despite this, I watch them from behind, as both sides break their bodies against the weapons of the opposition. I pull at the rose sitting along my exterior pocket and whisper into it. “Do you see, Grand Marshal? Can you appreciate what these men and women fight for? Or is it all just an opportunity to your eyes? Many are the savages of this world, but do they not have hearts large enough to match any man’s zeal? His dedication? His loyalty?” The rose replied in kind. “…I see only dogs fighting over the same bone… They could do to put each other down.”

“…As you will, Grand Marshal. I’d hoped you’d had just a little sympathy hidden somewhere in that grizzled heart…” I folded my arms, still observing the bloody display taking place further and further away from me. “My sympathies extend only so far, Mister Deloriane. I tolerate you, only because of your standing with the Kirin Tor. If not for that fact, I’d hardly differentiate you from the rest.” A smirk pulls at my lips, and I walk towards the east – To Ashenvale, abandoning the rest to their fates. “…But of course, Grand Marshal Langley… Of course…” My eyes are drawn to the glimmer of spyglasses in the distance, the Alliance forces looking on, perhaps drawing some sort of amusement from the in-fighting that held at the Horde.

“You strike only one branch at a time – completely ignoring the tree. When at last you realize your attentions have been misdirected… Perhaps then you will come to believe that my intentions are just as righteous and justified as your own. That everything I have done, has been in preparation for the coming days.. Ever since we found that Light-forsaken continent to the south.”

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~ by anethodawnpride on September 6, 2013.

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