Sunwell - II
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
With their king dead, the elve's resolve broke.
Panic infested the elven lines just as quickly as his horde of undead smashed against them again and again. An advance that, had the elves been more sturdy in their resolve, would have broken as many times as it crashed against their shields and spears. Resolute that victory, or salvation, or some other nonsense would see them victorious even in their darkest hour.
But as they were now?
Arthas ignored the screams and cries of the dead and dying as Frostmourne greedily drank the dead elf's soul.
Some elves tried to 'stop' him, most merely fled in horror.
Once the blade had its fill, the death knight marched forward; reminding himself to have Invincible healed as soon as this elf business was over. Ghouls and abominations cleared his path of the flagging few who still denied the inevitable, meat wagons and cultists followed silently.
"Are you excited, necromancer?" he spoke aloud, knowing the ghost was never far. "You're about to return to the land of the living."
"I can't deny the anticipation," Kel'Thuzad appeared beside the death knight as he walked, 'gliding' as the Arthas crossed the sea of corpses. "Or the irony of my 'killer' being the one who shall bring me back."
"So you don't hold a grudge at me for killing you?" the fallen prince had never broached the topic of what the necromancer thought of his own death. The man, ghost, never spoke about it either.
"Should I?" the specter questioned in turn.
"Men have hated one another for far less," and he wanted to know if he needed to put the necromancer down for a second time if need be…
"A fair point," the ghost conceded with a jovial chuckle. "But no, I don't hold any ill will towards you. Now, or then."
"Then? You mean when the Cult of the Damned was stopped?" He needed to be sure he heard that correctly. "Even when I put an end to your scheme?"
"Is that what you believe?" again, he chuckled. "Since the moment our master's plan was set in motion nothing has gone awry. Everything has gone exactly as expected."
"Wait, you knew I was going to kill you?"
"Indeed," the apparition nodded, 'moving' in front of Arthas. "Your actions were all part of the Lich King's plan, as was my death, and so shall my rebirth."
"And the demons? Where do they fit in those plans?"
"As obstacles," the ghost looked around as the pair, and accompanying entourage, ascended to the plateau. "I'm more concerned about the lack of elves opposing us."
"You think they still have the will to resist?" Arthas glanced up at the ash covered skies.
"You don't?"
"I think a beaten dog will wait before trying to bite again," though now that the ghost mentioned it, shouldn't the elves be throwing themselves at his little precession to protect their precious well?
"Hmm, then let us be on our way before it comes to that," Kel'Thuzad mused to himself, "besides, we do have a schedule to keep after all."
The death knight growled something beneath his breath as the pair continued onward.
Had he the time, Arthas would have lingered in the elven kingdom and slaughtered each and every elf his forces could get their claws on. Raze their cities, burn their forest, destroy everything until nothing was left of the High Home but a mire of blight and death.
Sadly, things were not so simple.
While their armies were routed, the elves were already regrouping to the west. It would take time to deal with them. Time he didn't have. And if the elves could entice dragons to their defense he'd rather not be here if more of the beasts arrived.
At the top of the steps, past footpaths littered with fresh corpses, some fallen by their own hands, laid the center of high elf society; the Sunwell.
When he came to Quel'Thalas as a boy with his father on some diplomatic trip, he never actually saw the Well. He saw portraits, mosaics, even the odd illustration in some dusty old tome of it, but never the real thing.
Even after casting aside everything of that time in the frozen wastes of Northrend, he couldn't deny the pool of swirling liquid gold held an otherworldly aura about it. It almost made him regret tainting the well to bring the necromancer back from the dead.
Almost.
Yet no sooner had the group entered the great chamber, moments before ordering the cultists to bring the necromancer's remains up, a great wall of light simply appeared around the Well.
A barrier so high it ran high into the ceiling, and radiated with unimaginable power.
Power made evident by a ghoul erupting into flames as the pitiful creature attempted to touch it.
"What now?" Arthas ignored the undead's shrill cries, glancing in the ghost's direction.
"A magical barrier," the apparition replied, a ghostly hand held just before the barrier as if he were tempted to touch it. "Powered by the Sunwell itself, no doubt. Triggered by something, or someone, in the building."
"Wonderful," he growled, turning to the assembled undead and cultists, "search the area! I want whatever is controlling this barrier destroyed."
As the undead and damned searched, Kel'Thuzad looked to the death knight. "Be careful, they would not leave the Sunwell unattended if they were not already planning something."
"Or something was already in motion," Arthas agreed. Whatever it was he was certain he could-
"Well hello there."
The sudden voice caused Arthas to turn on his heel, where he saw a lone elf standing before him. A girl who's light armor was caked in mud and blood, though she did look vaguely familiar. Familiar, in the sense that blonde elves who annoyed him were quite common nowadays.
The elf smirked, "well if it isn't-"
Frostmourne carved through her with a single swing.
Only for it to phase through her like thin air. Her body 'flickered' as the blade passed through it.
"Wow, you didn't even let me finish," she marveled at her 'body' as it phased back into existence. "Also, did you really think I'd just walk up to you, just like that?"
"Then where are you elf," he looked around the chamber, noting the large number of places an ambusher could hide. His forces would find her if she were here. If not, she was simply an annoyance.
"Obviously not in front of you," the elf answered, tsking at him.
"Then be silent, and when I find you, I may make your death painless," deciding to ignore the elf, he turned back to the barrier.
"If I was going to be silent, I wouldn't be talking to you, would I?" her form 'phased' through him and stood before him once more. "When else am I going to get a chance to talk to you?"
Arthas put the elf out of his mind, looking from whatever controlled the barrier. The sooner the necromancer was returned to life the sooner he could done with this place.
"I mean, what sort of mindset do you need to go from golden boy to mass murderer?" The elf kept talking. "I mean it's kind of crazy when you think about it. Literally a year ago you were some prince charming wannabe-"
"Be silent," he growled, trying to focus elsewhere.
"I mean, I sort of get it when you-"
"Enough of your pointless prattle!" the death knight snapped. "Your king is dead, your forces routed, your nation is in ruins, and yet you spend your final moments pointlessly babbling like some child!"
"I'm only giving you the amount of respect I think you deserve," the girl countered.
"What respect?"
"Exactly," she smirked as he realized her meaning.
To be treated like this…
It made his blood boil.
He slammed his fist against the barrier. Fire leapt up licking the plate, heating the metal, but otherwise doing no damage. "I gave your kind ample opportunities to surrender, but you stubbornly refused. Know that today, your entire race will be humbled and your ancient heritage laid to waste beneath my boots. From this day, to the end of days, your kind will speak of me in hushed whispers; knowing this as the day death itself claimed the high home of the elves for its own!"
His declaration made the elf pause, her smile vanishing for the briefest of moments before returning with a cold edge. "How grandiose. Maybe for a few of your generations, sure. What's that, a few weeks?" she laughed at her own 'joke'.
If this girl were standing before him he'd crush her skull with his bare hands…
"But don't presume to think you've won just yet," she continued, the smile changing into a smirk. "So long as there is even a single person left, this fight is not over."
"Cling to your fantasies if you wish, but know that when we meet in person I will carve you in two and take your soul," he turned and walked away from her, doing his best to put the elf out of sight and mind-
"Has anyone told you about Mal'Ganis?"
The sudden question struck him like a bolt of lightning, stopping him dead in his tracks. A thousand and one questions raced through his head, the most important of which: how did this elf know that name?
"Oh, it looks like I have your attention now," she smugly glibbed as the death knight turned back towards her.
"What would I care about that demon? He's dead", and others no doubt plot his downfall because of it.
"Is he?" The elf smirked,
"What?"
"I mean, is he 'dead'?"
"What are you getting at, elf?" He was absently aware of the ghouls still searching the chamber for something, anything, that could deactivate the barrier; or a sign as to the location of this mage.
"Do you know what separates demons from normal beings?" she did not wait for him to answer. "A rhetorical question. The answer is a lot of things. But, the most relevant to demons is that they don't die in the way mortals do."
What was she getting at-
"Ah, I see the confusion, so let me dumb it down for you," that damnable voice was beginning to grate on his nerves. "When a demon 'dies' in our realm, it is more akin to banishing than dying. When 'killed' they resurrect in the Twisting Nether, the realm from which all demons reside. The only way to truly kill a demon is to cut them down there. Otherwise, they'll just keep coming back."
…What?
"Oh dear, you didn't know that, did you?" her grin grew. "While I usually hate being 'that guy' who breaks bad news to the one poor fool out of the loop, I can't deny this is actually pretty fun."
"Why should I take the word of some elf?"
"Don't, take his word."
"His?"
"Kel'Thuzad," she looked around the area. "You know, that ghostly fella following you around as you've been slaughtering people. Powerful mage, turned necromancer, turned dead guy. The whole point of your attack. That guy. He used to be a member of the Kirin Tor, so he ought to know this stuff."
"Wait, you can see him?" even the dreadlords were oblivious to the ghost's presence.
"Not really, but I know he's there," she shrugged. "Actually, is he here with us right now? You were about to toss his remains into the Sunwell weren't you? I doubt he'd want to miss the 'big moment'."
Even if she knew the ghost was here, what of it? Did it even change the situation? Did it make anything she said more true? It could all just be some calculated jab to unnerve him.
And yet…
"...is any of that true?" he glared at the ghostly apparition beside him, the girl's gaze following him to her amusement.
"...it is," Kel'Thuzad finally answered, after a moment of hesitation. "While she overestimates the ease in which a demon can return to this world under normal circumstances, she is not wrong in the mechanics."
"And when, pray tell, was I going to learn this?" Arthas snapped, his grip tightened around Frostmourne.
"At the time in which our Master believes we can finally rid ourselves of demonic taskmasters," he calmly attempted to explain to the death knight. "Rest assured, under the combined might of the Scourge and Cult of the Damned, the demons will be destroyed. But only at the proper time."
"The proper time…" he seethed to himself, fighting his rage to keep himself centered. As the necromancer's words settled in his mind, the blade whispered the will of the Lich King to him. The cold susurrations did their best to soothe his growing fury, promising him greater power in the future and true vengeance in time. All it asked for was patience and trust.
"Uh-oh, is there trouble in paradise," the elf mocked.
He pushed her voice out, letting the Lich King's whispers echo in his mind.
"It goes without saying the dreadlords knew since, you know, being the same race and all," she continued, walking closer to him. "That's why they don't hold a grudge against you. They're actually probably joking about how self important the 'dumb human' thinks he is. 'Haha, it's adorable that the human thinks he killed one of us, hahah'."
Her mocking imitation voice only stoked the fires of his rage higher.
"Be silent..." he just needed a moment to think!
"I'm just surprised that this is such a big revelation for you," she needled him. "The Lich King ought to know this also, since he was a warlock before he was interred in the Frozen Throne."
"How does she know that…" he barely heard Kel'Thuzad comment to himself.
"I'm actually not sure if it's sad that you gave up everything thinking you'd get the power to kill a demon, or sad that you got tricked so easily. Maybe a bit of both-"
"I said be silent!" he swung at her form, the blade passing right through her projection, bouncing off the barrier with a gust of heat and energy.
"Why did you swing at me again? This is still a projection," she carried on, growing more amused by his reactions. "I haven't magically teleported in front of you since we've been talking. Is me talking unnerving you that much that you forgot? "
"I am going to-"
An explosion from behind drew Arthas's attention; the leading meatwagons were on fire. As cultists scurried to put out the flames, a pair of fireballs raced through the air alongside arrows towards the remaining wagons.
Screams of pain rang out as all hit their marks. The cultists burned, but the remaining wagons, and the one holding the necromancer's remains, were relatively intact.
And then he saw them. Elves appeared all around from every shadow and opening. Cloaked mages and armored warriors wasted no time in cutting into his forces, arrows whistled through the air hitting their marks one after another.
So that was her game.
"You-!" Arthas cut off with a gurgle, as a cold, barbed arrow lodged itself in his throat. He tore the offending projectile out as several more arrows flew towards him, deflecting off his armor and gauntlets.
So be it.
Without wasting a breath, he craved through the elves that charged him. One was even thrown to the ground by the death knight's sheer bulk, helpless when Arthas brought his boot down on his skull.
Spells struck his armor, the impacts reverberating through the plate, but he marched onwards. Each step a strike, each strike claiming another soul for Frostmourne.
He stopped a ranger's blade and impaled the elf upon Frostmourne, ripping the soul from the elf's body before it even hit the ground.
He blasted a mage apart with death magic for daring to throw a ball of fire at him.
Ghouls and cultists entered the fray as well, their presence only adding to the frenzy of battle.
Arrows harmlessly bounced off his armor from every direction. No matter how many spells he flung in their directions, more arrows followed.
It was madness.
Yet as he waded through this mess of slaughter and death, he felt a strong force throw him off his feet. Rolling into his fall, he quickly recovered and turned to see his attacker; the same elf from before.
Not as an illusion, but in the flesh.
"Well…" she regarded her exposed position. "This is-"
He didn't wait for her quip to finish, impaling her with Frostmourne before kicking her off the blade into a nearby pillar. The impact echoing out a satisfyingly wet crunch and a large spatter of her blood.
His contentment did not last long, as the elf slowly rose to her feet. Her bent bones cracked back into place, with the bruising and swelling across her face vanishing in mere seconds before his eyes.
Well then…
His fingers tightened on the grip of Frostmourne.
---
---
All this was my idea to put the barrier up to stall Arthas, distract him, then give him the old sucker punch when he wasn't expecting it!.
The way I saw it, if he was talking, he wasn't killing, and if he wasn't killing he was basically doing nothing. And 'doing nothing' could give the rangers time to get into position, and the magisters time to charge up their spells. Then, when I got him talking, unleashed on both him and whatever they thought Kel'Thuzad was being carried in.
Worst case scenario, even if we don't knock out Arthas, we at least get rid of the reason why he's here in the first place.
It didn't actually take much convincing to get everyone on board; at least those who stayed here after the main defense broke. Mages fled for the hills alongside rangers.
But those who remained were apparently completely on board with my plan.
Disgustingly little blowback from me telling them not to destroy the Sunwell. Maybe my little stunt with the Well made them think I actually knew what I was doing. I noticed more than a few raised eyebrows when I started egging on Arthas with what I knew about Warcraft.
Probably going to have to answer more than a few 'awkward' questions later, but that is a problem for future Sillya.
Thankfully my plan actually worked, I got his undivided attention, and in turn, gave everyone the opening they needed.
And while they say no plan survives first contact with the enemy, this is fucking ridiculous!
I grimaced as my skin knitted itself back together from being stabbed. It felt like fire searing a wound shut, with bones and organs tearing themselves against bone fragments as they moved themselves back into place.
The Sunwell healed me, it was beyond agonizing pain, but I was back on my feet in seconds.
My attack was supposed to snap his spine in two, but I'm pretty sure mine was snapped instead.
If I didn't feel that soul stealing blade play my ribcage like a fucking xylophone, I might have been inclined to make a witty remark about being stabbed. Funny how having some 'skin' in the game takes all the fun out of egging on one of the most powerful beings in the Eastern Kingdoms.
Knowing I had Arthas's undivided attention, I charged him again. With luck, my speed and magic would just edge out over his strength and heavy armor.
In truth, I could barely register what was happening amidst the screams, cries, and my own living hell of pain.The fact that I had hooked myself up directly to the Sunwell was the only thing keeping me in this fight. Each injury only existed for seconds as the energies of the well continually healed me though the fight.
At best, my blade scratched his armor. And my magic was less useful given how many consecutive concussions I was enduring. With my head, metaphorically, spinning, it was hard to concentrate enough to cast really big spells. I still had the old standbys, flames here, arcane blasts there, and they definitely staggered him, it still wasn't enough. I spent more time weaving in between his strikes than striking myself.
But when he landed a blow on me, the pain was beyond imagining.
My arm bent and twisted from an impact, ribs snapped under concussive force, and blood smothered my eyes from deep cuts to the head.
My muscles were torn apart from the inside out, first from being struck, then as jagged bone fragments were dragged back into place inside me. The internal bleeding from impalements and deep cuts lasted mere moments as any incidental damage was knitted back into place as quickly as the bones were fused together.
New teeth sprouted from bloody gums.
My limbs bent and broke, only for them to snap right back into place with wet cracks.
The worst of it was when he kept shattering my ribcage; either from punching or stomping on my gut with his boots. So many tiny, individual bone fragments moved achingly across my heart and lungs. While my organs healed quickly, the blood that kept pooling internally made me have a coughing fit, leaving me open to yet further attacks and further rapid healing.
It was painful…
It was simple attrition, and even with it all being repaired in seconds I still felt like I was losing.
After I received a shattered jaw, I 'tapped out', blinking across the chamber to get some distance between me and him.
And from my new 'vantage point' I could clearly see, when the swelling around my eyes went down, that we were losing.
There weren't that many of us to start with, and while each of those that chose to stay were worth a hundred undead, there were thousands of undead swarming into the chamber. It didn't matter if a magister could blow apart a hundred ghouls with a single spell, two hundred would race in to replace them.
Simple numbers were killing us.
"We can't keep this up much longer," I noted Noly telling me, barely registering her helping me to my feet. No matter what I said, she refused to leave with the others, so I had her keep to the shadows and take pot shots when she could. "You can't keep this up."
"No, I can't," I agreed, spitting up blood. "But what else can we do?"
"You got any ideas," she asked, almost pleading that I say I did.
"Y-yeah," I placed a hand on her shoulder, "I got an idea."
I didn't. Not really.
"Well I'm all ears Silly."
"It-" I watched the last magister get gored, a fist right through his chest. As the mage laid dying at his feet, Arthas turned towards us, getting intercepted by a pair of rangers.
"Well, anytime Silly," she let loose an arrow into the melee, it was deflected by his armor.
"It involves…it involves," best I could think of was to go back to Plan A, blow up the Sunwell. Or at least, discharge the energy in as small a radius as possible; preferably with Arthas right in the center. The magisters kept everything in place from before, a mage just needed the time to activate the glyphs then bail.
Given I was the last surviving mage left, the task of who was pretty obvious.
"Yeah…"
I was barely surviving thanks to the Sunwell supercharging my healing, and it had already shown to be more than enough to take everything Arthas threw at me.
But Noly…
I watched the last pair of rangers get cut down with frightening brutality.
All eyes were on us now.
"I need to teleport you to a very awkward place," I glance off to the sea beyond.
She gave me a sideways glance, "I'm not going to phase into a wall, right?"
"No…I mean I hope not," it seemed like a straight enough shot. "Though you may be upside down cause I can barely think straight."
"Then do it," she readied her bow as Arthas walked towards us. "And be quick."
"R-right," I grabbed her shoulder. "Get ready."
"Anytime now," she let loose her second arrow, again it bounced off his armor.
"...now!" I focused my magic and teleported Noly away, disappearing in a flash of light.Not to any place in the chamber, but out to sea, near where some of the navy was still present.
I was going to hear an earful later about that. But right now I didn't care.
I blinked around the room moments later to avoid Arthas's blade. Above me, I heard the tell tale whine of Noly's dragonhawk flying above the carnage seemingly searching for her; the little guy having stayed out of the fighting.
Damnit, forgot about Bridy.
"Go!" I pointed out to sea, in the rough direction of where I hoped to teleport Noly.
The dragonhawk seemed to understand what I was saying, flying off in the direction I was pointing.
"Finally," Arthas grinned, marching towards me. Seemingly telling the remaining undead to 'back off'. "All alone."
"Yeah…" I silently initiated the glyphs to destroy the Well. "Meaning I don't have to worry about friendly fire anymore."
Without warning, I poured all the power at my disposal at him. The might of the Sunwell, channeled through me, weak as I was, into a single, sustained, flood of arcane energy. The strength of it was enough to push the death knight across the chamber to the far wall.
The stone of the wall melted into a molten sludge as I kept the spell on target. I was not going to waste this chance by letting off too 'soon'. I just had to hold this 'beam' for a few minutes then blink away.
Day is saved.
Heroes win.
Only…
Only life wasn't so merciful.
I saw a dark figure emerge from the molten rock and approach me, pushing through the spell as another man might lean forward against a strong wind.
No way…
I redoubled the power of the spell yet further. The fingers of my hand blackening with how powerful the channeled energy was.
Yet, slowly, methodically, he moved forward.
Each step brought him closer to me. His boots buckled repeatedly from the spell, he nearly slipped as the very ground around him melted, once, the tiles broke beneath him and pushed him back several feet, but he advanced ever onwards. I could even see the icy blue runes of Frostmourne through the intense light of the magic.
He was getting too close…
…
And I still had so much time priming the Well…
…
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fucking fair!
When he was close enough, he lurched forward, swinging that accused blade at me. Reflexively, I cut the spell and blinked backwards to avoid getting hit.
…or at least I thought I had.
Looking down, all I saw was a bloody stump where my formerly outstretched arm ought to be. My arm was actually at my feet, the hand blacked by burns.
This…couldn't be real, right?
I mean I…I can still feel my arm, the sore muscles, even my sweaty palms.
So why was it…down there? Looking like that?
My musing was cut short by a sudden 'thud' to the gut.
Arthas towered over me, Frostmourne pushed through my chest, with a visage more monstrous than before.
…this wasn't supposed to happen.
Beyond his blacked armor, his face was marred almost beyond recognition from my attack. The skin that wasn't flayed off from the spell was bloody raw. He had the appearance of a skeleton, with only a tiny patch of burnt, muscle-y skin still attached; being held to his face by fleshy strings and threads.
Yet his eyes burned just as icy blue as before.
Without a word, Arthas started to twist the blade in my chest, and dragged it upwards.
IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO-
--
--
The elf went limp, Frostmourne tore through the elf like a hot knife through butter. The barrier around the Well died with the elf.
Finally.
He let the corpse fall where it may, lowering Frostmourne close to drink the elf's soul. For all the girl did to him, being consumed by Frostmourne would be only the beginning of her punishment.
Oh yes. He was going to make her suffer. He would not grant her the mercy of the grave.
Yet something peculiar happened.
As her soul was being torn from its flesh, a strange energy lept from her torso and grabbed her soul. After a short contest, it wrestled it from Frostmourne's grip and dragged it back into her corpse.
"What the…?" The death knight noted aloud, taken aback by the sight.
"So that's how it is," the necromancer commented, his ghostly apparition examining the elf.
"Care to elaborate?" he questioned aloud, though his voice was more of a raspy whisper than its usual regal tone.
"Her soul is owned by another, or another has claimed it as their own. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes."
"And that means…?" He assumed it was some final mechanism to get under his skin.
"That your powers should be able to wrestle it from whatever is holding it, but it will take some time."
"Time? This elf has cost me more than enough time to justify wasting even more of it on her," he kicked the mutilated corpse across the chamber.
She was dead, and he still lived, that was more than enough for the moment.
Let her rot here and feed the corpsers.
One of the surviving cultists approached him with a bloody sack.
Ripping the bag from the cultist's hands, he tore it open and emptied its contents into the golden waters of the Sunwell. Bones swirled in the repentant pool until they sank below.
One moment passed.
Then another.
And another.
Then a skeletal hand reached out from the depths, and the waters began to lose their luster.
--
--
So this was not what I expected.
I expected death to be a bit more...final?
Okay sure, I didn't stay dead the first time I died either, but I feel way more lucid than I did then.
Was I going to get reincarnated again? Not that I wanted to lose all the friends I made, or be a complete stranger to them if we ever meet again.
Or was this going to be some groundhog day scenario where I relive this life until I don't die?
I mean, hurray if it is, since that means I can fix things. But something told me this wasn't that…
Also, I felt the distinct sensation of falling downwards. Which opens a whole can of worms.
Like, I know I wasn't the best person in life, this time, but I'd like to think that I wasn't that bad. Okay, maybe I let my ego get the better of me to think I could defeat Arthas, but I gave as good as I took…
I think…
Or maybe this was more like a limbo place? Not hell, but certainly not 'heaven' either. Where I get to just 'exist' for an indeterminate amount of time.
Not the best, but certainly not the worst-
"Oh you've gone and done it now," a familiar voice broke me from my train of thought. I saw the doppelganger, her blazing red eyes glared at me unamused. But she was different then before. Unfocused, fading in and out of existence almost.
No, I stand corrected. This might be Hell.
"Look, we don't have a lot of time, so let me explain. we're off to see the big man downstairs since you died, again," she-it pointed downwards, only to roll her eyes as my expression shifted. "No, not that guy. The other guy down there."
"What other guy-"
A jolt of coldness shook me to my core, as if I was dumped into a pool of ice cold water; so cold it burned.
Surrounded by what felt like water on all sides, I reflexively held my breath. Though as I continued downward, I realized I didn;t feel any burning sensation in my lungs for air.
"Why are you holding your breath?" the doppelganger questioned with an over exaggerated sigh. "We're incorporeal, we don't need to breathe."
"W-where am I then!" I demanded, noticing how air bubbles still raced out of my mouth even though I didn't feel any water enter.
"Trouble," she-it replied, as if that explained everything. Before she could go on, she froze and looked around, almost nervous. "Look I need to go and see if I can get us out of this mess," it's voice became fainter and fainter as I drifted into an ever darkening abyss.
"Just don't do or say anything…too important…that fucker…gone…"
And then there was silence, and cold.
But something felt different.
Off.
It felt as if I had been brought to the deepest recesses of the ocean. So deep that no light has ever penetrated its dark embrace.
And then pain shot through my head.
Like nails being driven into my skull!
Pressure bearing down on me like the pounding drums.
The descent continued, quickened even, and the 'water' grew colder, all the while the pressure on my head revved up.
At the point where I felt my eardrums were about to burst and my head cave in on itself it stopped.
All at once, I was left with silence.
Then came the laughter.
First distant, but growing closer and more pronounced.
Without warning, the darkness around me was illuminated by light.
Not by one light, but thousands of them.
No..not lights, lights don't 'blink' or have pupils. They don't follow you as you drift downwards.
They were eyes.
Thousands upon thousands of eyes.
And every single one of them looked at me with unabashed amusement as the laughter grew ever louder.
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AN: We'll I am happy to say that was an 'ending of all time'. Hope the battle came across as sufficiently 'epic' and that the ending was eliciting reactions such as this:
Next chapter we have a literal eldritch god trying to make sense of the smoothest of smooth brained elfs.
I honestly feel sorry for the Old God....
Special thanks to "Santo" over on SB for the help in cleaning up this mess of a chapter~
Panic infested the elven lines just as quickly as his horde of undead smashed against them again and again. An advance that, had the elves been more sturdy in their resolve, would have broken as many times as it crashed against their shields and spears. Resolute that victory, or salvation, or some other nonsense would see them victorious even in their darkest hour.
But as they were now?
Arthas ignored the screams and cries of the dead and dying as Frostmourne greedily drank the dead elf's soul.
Some elves tried to 'stop' him, most merely fled in horror.
Once the blade had its fill, the death knight marched forward; reminding himself to have Invincible healed as soon as this elf business was over. Ghouls and abominations cleared his path of the flagging few who still denied the inevitable, meat wagons and cultists followed silently.
"Are you excited, necromancer?" he spoke aloud, knowing the ghost was never far. "You're about to return to the land of the living."
"I can't deny the anticipation," Kel'Thuzad appeared beside the death knight as he walked, 'gliding' as the Arthas crossed the sea of corpses. "Or the irony of my 'killer' being the one who shall bring me back."
"So you don't hold a grudge at me for killing you?" the fallen prince had never broached the topic of what the necromancer thought of his own death. The man, ghost, never spoke about it either.
"Should I?" the specter questioned in turn.
"Men have hated one another for far less," and he wanted to know if he needed to put the necromancer down for a second time if need be…
"A fair point," the ghost conceded with a jovial chuckle. "But no, I don't hold any ill will towards you. Now, or then."
"Then? You mean when the Cult of the Damned was stopped?" He needed to be sure he heard that correctly. "Even when I put an end to your scheme?"
"Is that what you believe?" again, he chuckled. "Since the moment our master's plan was set in motion nothing has gone awry. Everything has gone exactly as expected."
"Wait, you knew I was going to kill you?"
"Indeed," the apparition nodded, 'moving' in front of Arthas. "Your actions were all part of the Lich King's plan, as was my death, and so shall my rebirth."
"And the demons? Where do they fit in those plans?"
"As obstacles," the ghost looked around as the pair, and accompanying entourage, ascended to the plateau. "I'm more concerned about the lack of elves opposing us."
"You think they still have the will to resist?" Arthas glanced up at the ash covered skies.
"You don't?"
"I think a beaten dog will wait before trying to bite again," though now that the ghost mentioned it, shouldn't the elves be throwing themselves at his little precession to protect their precious well?
"Hmm, then let us be on our way before it comes to that," Kel'Thuzad mused to himself, "besides, we do have a schedule to keep after all."
The death knight growled something beneath his breath as the pair continued onward.
Had he the time, Arthas would have lingered in the elven kingdom and slaughtered each and every elf his forces could get their claws on. Raze their cities, burn their forest, destroy everything until nothing was left of the High Home but a mire of blight and death.
Sadly, things were not so simple.
While their armies were routed, the elves were already regrouping to the west. It would take time to deal with them. Time he didn't have. And if the elves could entice dragons to their defense he'd rather not be here if more of the beasts arrived.
At the top of the steps, past footpaths littered with fresh corpses, some fallen by their own hands, laid the center of high elf society; the Sunwell.
When he came to Quel'Thalas as a boy with his father on some diplomatic trip, he never actually saw the Well. He saw portraits, mosaics, even the odd illustration in some dusty old tome of it, but never the real thing.
Even after casting aside everything of that time in the frozen wastes of Northrend, he couldn't deny the pool of swirling liquid gold held an otherworldly aura about it. It almost made him regret tainting the well to bring the necromancer back from the dead.
Almost.
Yet no sooner had the group entered the great chamber, moments before ordering the cultists to bring the necromancer's remains up, a great wall of light simply appeared around the Well.
A barrier so high it ran high into the ceiling, and radiated with unimaginable power.
Power made evident by a ghoul erupting into flames as the pitiful creature attempted to touch it.
"What now?" Arthas ignored the undead's shrill cries, glancing in the ghost's direction.
"A magical barrier," the apparition replied, a ghostly hand held just before the barrier as if he were tempted to touch it. "Powered by the Sunwell itself, no doubt. Triggered by something, or someone, in the building."
"Wonderful," he growled, turning to the assembled undead and cultists, "search the area! I want whatever is controlling this barrier destroyed."
As the undead and damned searched, Kel'Thuzad looked to the death knight. "Be careful, they would not leave the Sunwell unattended if they were not already planning something."
"Or something was already in motion," Arthas agreed. Whatever it was he was certain he could-
"Well hello there."
The sudden voice caused Arthas to turn on his heel, where he saw a lone elf standing before him. A girl who's light armor was caked in mud and blood, though she did look vaguely familiar. Familiar, in the sense that blonde elves who annoyed him were quite common nowadays.
The elf smirked, "well if it isn't-"
Frostmourne carved through her with a single swing.
Only for it to phase through her like thin air. Her body 'flickered' as the blade passed through it.
"Wow, you didn't even let me finish," she marveled at her 'body' as it phased back into existence. "Also, did you really think I'd just walk up to you, just like that?"
"Then where are you elf," he looked around the chamber, noting the large number of places an ambusher could hide. His forces would find her if she were here. If not, she was simply an annoyance.
"Obviously not in front of you," the elf answered, tsking at him.
"Then be silent, and when I find you, I may make your death painless," deciding to ignore the elf, he turned back to the barrier.
"If I was going to be silent, I wouldn't be talking to you, would I?" her form 'phased' through him and stood before him once more. "When else am I going to get a chance to talk to you?"
Arthas put the elf out of his mind, looking from whatever controlled the barrier. The sooner the necromancer was returned to life the sooner he could done with this place.
"I mean, what sort of mindset do you need to go from golden boy to mass murderer?" The elf kept talking. "I mean it's kind of crazy when you think about it. Literally a year ago you were some prince charming wannabe-"
"Be silent," he growled, trying to focus elsewhere.
"I mean, I sort of get it when you-"
"Enough of your pointless prattle!" the death knight snapped. "Your king is dead, your forces routed, your nation is in ruins, and yet you spend your final moments pointlessly babbling like some child!"
"I'm only giving you the amount of respect I think you deserve," the girl countered.
"What respect?"
"Exactly," she smirked as he realized her meaning.
To be treated like this…
It made his blood boil.
He slammed his fist against the barrier. Fire leapt up licking the plate, heating the metal, but otherwise doing no damage. "I gave your kind ample opportunities to surrender, but you stubbornly refused. Know that today, your entire race will be humbled and your ancient heritage laid to waste beneath my boots. From this day, to the end of days, your kind will speak of me in hushed whispers; knowing this as the day death itself claimed the high home of the elves for its own!"
His declaration made the elf pause, her smile vanishing for the briefest of moments before returning with a cold edge. "How grandiose. Maybe for a few of your generations, sure. What's that, a few weeks?" she laughed at her own 'joke'.
If this girl were standing before him he'd crush her skull with his bare hands…
"But don't presume to think you've won just yet," she continued, the smile changing into a smirk. "So long as there is even a single person left, this fight is not over."
"Cling to your fantasies if you wish, but know that when we meet in person I will carve you in two and take your soul," he turned and walked away from her, doing his best to put the elf out of sight and mind-
"Has anyone told you about Mal'Ganis?"
The sudden question struck him like a bolt of lightning, stopping him dead in his tracks. A thousand and one questions raced through his head, the most important of which: how did this elf know that name?
"Oh, it looks like I have your attention now," she smugly glibbed as the death knight turned back towards her.
"What would I care about that demon? He's dead", and others no doubt plot his downfall because of it.
"Is he?" The elf smirked,
"What?"
"I mean, is he 'dead'?"
"What are you getting at, elf?" He was absently aware of the ghouls still searching the chamber for something, anything, that could deactivate the barrier; or a sign as to the location of this mage.
"Do you know what separates demons from normal beings?" she did not wait for him to answer. "A rhetorical question. The answer is a lot of things. But, the most relevant to demons is that they don't die in the way mortals do."
What was she getting at-
"Ah, I see the confusion, so let me dumb it down for you," that damnable voice was beginning to grate on his nerves. "When a demon 'dies' in our realm, it is more akin to banishing than dying. When 'killed' they resurrect in the Twisting Nether, the realm from which all demons reside. The only way to truly kill a demon is to cut them down there. Otherwise, they'll just keep coming back."
…What?
"Oh dear, you didn't know that, did you?" her grin grew. "While I usually hate being 'that guy' who breaks bad news to the one poor fool out of the loop, I can't deny this is actually pretty fun."
"Why should I take the word of some elf?"
"Don't, take his word."
"His?"
"Kel'Thuzad," she looked around the area. "You know, that ghostly fella following you around as you've been slaughtering people. Powerful mage, turned necromancer, turned dead guy. The whole point of your attack. That guy. He used to be a member of the Kirin Tor, so he ought to know this stuff."
"Wait, you can see him?" even the dreadlords were oblivious to the ghost's presence.
"Not really, but I know he's there," she shrugged. "Actually, is he here with us right now? You were about to toss his remains into the Sunwell weren't you? I doubt he'd want to miss the 'big moment'."
Even if she knew the ghost was here, what of it? Did it even change the situation? Did it make anything she said more true? It could all just be some calculated jab to unnerve him.
And yet…
"...is any of that true?" he glared at the ghostly apparition beside him, the girl's gaze following him to her amusement.
"...it is," Kel'Thuzad finally answered, after a moment of hesitation. "While she overestimates the ease in which a demon can return to this world under normal circumstances, she is not wrong in the mechanics."
"And when, pray tell, was I going to learn this?" Arthas snapped, his grip tightened around Frostmourne.
"At the time in which our Master believes we can finally rid ourselves of demonic taskmasters," he calmly attempted to explain to the death knight. "Rest assured, under the combined might of the Scourge and Cult of the Damned, the demons will be destroyed. But only at the proper time."
"The proper time…" he seethed to himself, fighting his rage to keep himself centered. As the necromancer's words settled in his mind, the blade whispered the will of the Lich King to him. The cold susurrations did their best to soothe his growing fury, promising him greater power in the future and true vengeance in time. All it asked for was patience and trust.
"Uh-oh, is there trouble in paradise," the elf mocked.
He pushed her voice out, letting the Lich King's whispers echo in his mind.
"It goes without saying the dreadlords knew since, you know, being the same race and all," she continued, walking closer to him. "That's why they don't hold a grudge against you. They're actually probably joking about how self important the 'dumb human' thinks he is. 'Haha, it's adorable that the human thinks he killed one of us, hahah'."
Her mocking imitation voice only stoked the fires of his rage higher.
"Be silent..." he just needed a moment to think!
"I'm just surprised that this is such a big revelation for you," she needled him. "The Lich King ought to know this also, since he was a warlock before he was interred in the Frozen Throne."
"How does she know that…" he barely heard Kel'Thuzad comment to himself.
"I'm actually not sure if it's sad that you gave up everything thinking you'd get the power to kill a demon, or sad that you got tricked so easily. Maybe a bit of both-"
"I said be silent!" he swung at her form, the blade passing right through her projection, bouncing off the barrier with a gust of heat and energy.
"Why did you swing at me again? This is still a projection," she carried on, growing more amused by his reactions. "I haven't magically teleported in front of you since we've been talking. Is me talking unnerving you that much that you forgot? "
"I am going to-"
An explosion from behind drew Arthas's attention; the leading meatwagons were on fire. As cultists scurried to put out the flames, a pair of fireballs raced through the air alongside arrows towards the remaining wagons.
Screams of pain rang out as all hit their marks. The cultists burned, but the remaining wagons, and the one holding the necromancer's remains, were relatively intact.
And then he saw them. Elves appeared all around from every shadow and opening. Cloaked mages and armored warriors wasted no time in cutting into his forces, arrows whistled through the air hitting their marks one after another.
So that was her game.
"You-!" Arthas cut off with a gurgle, as a cold, barbed arrow lodged itself in his throat. He tore the offending projectile out as several more arrows flew towards him, deflecting off his armor and gauntlets.
So be it.
Without wasting a breath, he craved through the elves that charged him. One was even thrown to the ground by the death knight's sheer bulk, helpless when Arthas brought his boot down on his skull.
Spells struck his armor, the impacts reverberating through the plate, but he marched onwards. Each step a strike, each strike claiming another soul for Frostmourne.
He stopped a ranger's blade and impaled the elf upon Frostmourne, ripping the soul from the elf's body before it even hit the ground.
He blasted a mage apart with death magic for daring to throw a ball of fire at him.
Ghouls and cultists entered the fray as well, their presence only adding to the frenzy of battle.
Arrows harmlessly bounced off his armor from every direction. No matter how many spells he flung in their directions, more arrows followed.
It was madness.
Yet as he waded through this mess of slaughter and death, he felt a strong force throw him off his feet. Rolling into his fall, he quickly recovered and turned to see his attacker; the same elf from before.
Not as an illusion, but in the flesh.
"Well…" she regarded her exposed position. "This is-"
He didn't wait for her quip to finish, impaling her with Frostmourne before kicking her off the blade into a nearby pillar. The impact echoing out a satisfyingly wet crunch and a large spatter of her blood.
His contentment did not last long, as the elf slowly rose to her feet. Her bent bones cracked back into place, with the bruising and swelling across her face vanishing in mere seconds before his eyes.
Well then…
His fingers tightened on the grip of Frostmourne.
---
---
All this was my idea to put the barrier up to stall Arthas, distract him, then give him the old sucker punch when he wasn't expecting it!.
The way I saw it, if he was talking, he wasn't killing, and if he wasn't killing he was basically doing nothing. And 'doing nothing' could give the rangers time to get into position, and the magisters time to charge up their spells. Then, when I got him talking, unleashed on both him and whatever they thought Kel'Thuzad was being carried in.
Worst case scenario, even if we don't knock out Arthas, we at least get rid of the reason why he's here in the first place.
It didn't actually take much convincing to get everyone on board; at least those who stayed here after the main defense broke. Mages fled for the hills alongside rangers.
But those who remained were apparently completely on board with my plan.
Disgustingly little blowback from me telling them not to destroy the Sunwell. Maybe my little stunt with the Well made them think I actually knew what I was doing. I noticed more than a few raised eyebrows when I started egging on Arthas with what I knew about Warcraft.
Probably going to have to answer more than a few 'awkward' questions later, but that is a problem for future Sillya.
Thankfully my plan actually worked, I got his undivided attention, and in turn, gave everyone the opening they needed.
And while they say no plan survives first contact with the enemy, this is fucking ridiculous!
I grimaced as my skin knitted itself back together from being stabbed. It felt like fire searing a wound shut, with bones and organs tearing themselves against bone fragments as they moved themselves back into place.
The Sunwell healed me, it was beyond agonizing pain, but I was back on my feet in seconds.
My attack was supposed to snap his spine in two, but I'm pretty sure mine was snapped instead.
If I didn't feel that soul stealing blade play my ribcage like a fucking xylophone, I might have been inclined to make a witty remark about being stabbed. Funny how having some 'skin' in the game takes all the fun out of egging on one of the most powerful beings in the Eastern Kingdoms.
Knowing I had Arthas's undivided attention, I charged him again. With luck, my speed and magic would just edge out over his strength and heavy armor.
In truth, I could barely register what was happening amidst the screams, cries, and my own living hell of pain.The fact that I had hooked myself up directly to the Sunwell was the only thing keeping me in this fight. Each injury only existed for seconds as the energies of the well continually healed me though the fight.
At best, my blade scratched his armor. And my magic was less useful given how many consecutive concussions I was enduring. With my head, metaphorically, spinning, it was hard to concentrate enough to cast really big spells. I still had the old standbys, flames here, arcane blasts there, and they definitely staggered him, it still wasn't enough. I spent more time weaving in between his strikes than striking myself.
But when he landed a blow on me, the pain was beyond imagining.
My arm bent and twisted from an impact, ribs snapped under concussive force, and blood smothered my eyes from deep cuts to the head.
My muscles were torn apart from the inside out, first from being struck, then as jagged bone fragments were dragged back into place inside me. The internal bleeding from impalements and deep cuts lasted mere moments as any incidental damage was knitted back into place as quickly as the bones were fused together.
New teeth sprouted from bloody gums.
My limbs bent and broke, only for them to snap right back into place with wet cracks.
The worst of it was when he kept shattering my ribcage; either from punching or stomping on my gut with his boots. So many tiny, individual bone fragments moved achingly across my heart and lungs. While my organs healed quickly, the blood that kept pooling internally made me have a coughing fit, leaving me open to yet further attacks and further rapid healing.
It was painful…
It was simple attrition, and even with it all being repaired in seconds I still felt like I was losing.
After I received a shattered jaw, I 'tapped out', blinking across the chamber to get some distance between me and him.
And from my new 'vantage point' I could clearly see, when the swelling around my eyes went down, that we were losing.
There weren't that many of us to start with, and while each of those that chose to stay were worth a hundred undead, there were thousands of undead swarming into the chamber. It didn't matter if a magister could blow apart a hundred ghouls with a single spell, two hundred would race in to replace them.
Simple numbers were killing us.
"We can't keep this up much longer," I noted Noly telling me, barely registering her helping me to my feet. No matter what I said, she refused to leave with the others, so I had her keep to the shadows and take pot shots when she could. "You can't keep this up."
"No, I can't," I agreed, spitting up blood. "But what else can we do?"
"You got any ideas," she asked, almost pleading that I say I did.
"Y-yeah," I placed a hand on her shoulder, "I got an idea."
I didn't. Not really.
"Well I'm all ears Silly."
"It-" I watched the last magister get gored, a fist right through his chest. As the mage laid dying at his feet, Arthas turned towards us, getting intercepted by a pair of rangers.
"Well, anytime Silly," she let loose an arrow into the melee, it was deflected by his armor.
"It involves…it involves," best I could think of was to go back to Plan A, blow up the Sunwell. Or at least, discharge the energy in as small a radius as possible; preferably with Arthas right in the center. The magisters kept everything in place from before, a mage just needed the time to activate the glyphs then bail.
Given I was the last surviving mage left, the task of who was pretty obvious.
"Yeah…"
I was barely surviving thanks to the Sunwell supercharging my healing, and it had already shown to be more than enough to take everything Arthas threw at me.
But Noly…
I watched the last pair of rangers get cut down with frightening brutality.
All eyes were on us now.
"I need to teleport you to a very awkward place," I glance off to the sea beyond.
She gave me a sideways glance, "I'm not going to phase into a wall, right?"
"No…I mean I hope not," it seemed like a straight enough shot. "Though you may be upside down cause I can barely think straight."
"Then do it," she readied her bow as Arthas walked towards us. "And be quick."
"R-right," I grabbed her shoulder. "Get ready."
"Anytime now," she let loose her second arrow, again it bounced off his armor.
"...now!" I focused my magic and teleported Noly away, disappearing in a flash of light.Not to any place in the chamber, but out to sea, near where some of the navy was still present.
I was going to hear an earful later about that. But right now I didn't care.
I blinked around the room moments later to avoid Arthas's blade. Above me, I heard the tell tale whine of Noly's dragonhawk flying above the carnage seemingly searching for her; the little guy having stayed out of the fighting.
Damnit, forgot about Bridy.
"Go!" I pointed out to sea, in the rough direction of where I hoped to teleport Noly.
The dragonhawk seemed to understand what I was saying, flying off in the direction I was pointing.
"Finally," Arthas grinned, marching towards me. Seemingly telling the remaining undead to 'back off'. "All alone."
"Yeah…" I silently initiated the glyphs to destroy the Well. "Meaning I don't have to worry about friendly fire anymore."
Without warning, I poured all the power at my disposal at him. The might of the Sunwell, channeled through me, weak as I was, into a single, sustained, flood of arcane energy. The strength of it was enough to push the death knight across the chamber to the far wall.
The stone of the wall melted into a molten sludge as I kept the spell on target. I was not going to waste this chance by letting off too 'soon'. I just had to hold this 'beam' for a few minutes then blink away.
Day is saved.
Heroes win.
Only…
Only life wasn't so merciful.
I saw a dark figure emerge from the molten rock and approach me, pushing through the spell as another man might lean forward against a strong wind.
No way…
I redoubled the power of the spell yet further. The fingers of my hand blackening with how powerful the channeled energy was.
Yet, slowly, methodically, he moved forward.
Each step brought him closer to me. His boots buckled repeatedly from the spell, he nearly slipped as the very ground around him melted, once, the tiles broke beneath him and pushed him back several feet, but he advanced ever onwards. I could even see the icy blue runes of Frostmourne through the intense light of the magic.
He was getting too close…
…
And I still had so much time priming the Well…
…
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fucking fair!
When he was close enough, he lurched forward, swinging that accused blade at me. Reflexively, I cut the spell and blinked backwards to avoid getting hit.
…or at least I thought I had.
Looking down, all I saw was a bloody stump where my formerly outstretched arm ought to be. My arm was actually at my feet, the hand blacked by burns.
This…couldn't be real, right?
I mean I…I can still feel my arm, the sore muscles, even my sweaty palms.
So why was it…down there? Looking like that?
My musing was cut short by a sudden 'thud' to the gut.
Arthas towered over me, Frostmourne pushed through my chest, with a visage more monstrous than before.
…this wasn't supposed to happen.
Beyond his blacked armor, his face was marred almost beyond recognition from my attack. The skin that wasn't flayed off from the spell was bloody raw. He had the appearance of a skeleton, with only a tiny patch of burnt, muscle-y skin still attached; being held to his face by fleshy strings and threads.
Yet his eyes burned just as icy blue as before.
Without a word, Arthas started to twist the blade in my chest, and dragged it upwards.
IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO-
--
--
The elf went limp, Frostmourne tore through the elf like a hot knife through butter. The barrier around the Well died with the elf.
Finally.
He let the corpse fall where it may, lowering Frostmourne close to drink the elf's soul. For all the girl did to him, being consumed by Frostmourne would be only the beginning of her punishment.
Oh yes. He was going to make her suffer. He would not grant her the mercy of the grave.
Yet something peculiar happened.
As her soul was being torn from its flesh, a strange energy lept from her torso and grabbed her soul. After a short contest, it wrestled it from Frostmourne's grip and dragged it back into her corpse.
"What the…?" The death knight noted aloud, taken aback by the sight.
"So that's how it is," the necromancer commented, his ghostly apparition examining the elf.
"Care to elaborate?" he questioned aloud, though his voice was more of a raspy whisper than its usual regal tone.
"Her soul is owned by another, or another has claimed it as their own. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes."
"And that means…?" He assumed it was some final mechanism to get under his skin.
"That your powers should be able to wrestle it from whatever is holding it, but it will take some time."
"Time? This elf has cost me more than enough time to justify wasting even more of it on her," he kicked the mutilated corpse across the chamber.
She was dead, and he still lived, that was more than enough for the moment.
Let her rot here and feed the corpsers.
One of the surviving cultists approached him with a bloody sack.
Ripping the bag from the cultist's hands, he tore it open and emptied its contents into the golden waters of the Sunwell. Bones swirled in the repentant pool until they sank below.
One moment passed.
Then another.
And another.
Then a skeletal hand reached out from the depths, and the waters began to lose their luster.
--
--
So this was not what I expected.
I expected death to be a bit more...final?
Okay sure, I didn't stay dead the first time I died either, but I feel way more lucid than I did then.
Was I going to get reincarnated again? Not that I wanted to lose all the friends I made, or be a complete stranger to them if we ever meet again.
Or was this going to be some groundhog day scenario where I relive this life until I don't die?
I mean, hurray if it is, since that means I can fix things. But something told me this wasn't that…
Also, I felt the distinct sensation of falling downwards. Which opens a whole can of worms.
Like, I know I wasn't the best person in life, this time, but I'd like to think that I wasn't that bad. Okay, maybe I let my ego get the better of me to think I could defeat Arthas, but I gave as good as I took…
I think…
Or maybe this was more like a limbo place? Not hell, but certainly not 'heaven' either. Where I get to just 'exist' for an indeterminate amount of time.
Not the best, but certainly not the worst-
"Oh you've gone and done it now," a familiar voice broke me from my train of thought. I saw the doppelganger, her blazing red eyes glared at me unamused. But she was different then before. Unfocused, fading in and out of existence almost.
No, I stand corrected. This might be Hell.
"Look, we don't have a lot of time, so let me explain. we're off to see the big man downstairs since you died, again," she-it pointed downwards, only to roll her eyes as my expression shifted. "No, not that guy. The other guy down there."
"What other guy-"
A jolt of coldness shook me to my core, as if I was dumped into a pool of ice cold water; so cold it burned.
Surrounded by what felt like water on all sides, I reflexively held my breath. Though as I continued downward, I realized I didn;t feel any burning sensation in my lungs for air.
"Why are you holding your breath?" the doppelganger questioned with an over exaggerated sigh. "We're incorporeal, we don't need to breathe."
"W-where am I then!" I demanded, noticing how air bubbles still raced out of my mouth even though I didn't feel any water enter.
"Trouble," she-it replied, as if that explained everything. Before she could go on, she froze and looked around, almost nervous. "Look I need to go and see if I can get us out of this mess," it's voice became fainter and fainter as I drifted into an ever darkening abyss.
"Just don't do or say anything…too important…that fucker…gone…"
And then there was silence, and cold.
But something felt different.
Off.
It felt as if I had been brought to the deepest recesses of the ocean. So deep that no light has ever penetrated its dark embrace.
And then pain shot through my head.
Like nails being driven into my skull!
Pressure bearing down on me like the pounding drums.
The descent continued, quickened even, and the 'water' grew colder, all the while the pressure on my head revved up.
At the point where I felt my eardrums were about to burst and my head cave in on itself it stopped.
All at once, I was left with silence.
Then came the laughter.
First distant, but growing closer and more pronounced.
Without warning, the darkness around me was illuminated by light.
Not by one light, but thousands of them.
No..not lights, lights don't 'blink' or have pupils. They don't follow you as you drift downwards.
They were eyes.
Thousands upon thousands of eyes.
And every single one of them looked at me with unabashed amusement as the laughter grew ever louder.
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AN: We'll I am happy to say that was an 'ending of all time'. Hope the battle came across as sufficiently 'epic' and that the ending was eliciting reactions such as this:
Next chapter we have a literal eldritch god trying to make sense of the smoothest of smooth brained elfs.
I honestly feel sorry for the Old God....
Special thanks to "Santo" over on SB for the help in cleaning up this mess of a chapter~