warforged | [Locked to Redflight] Sent into battle

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[Locked to Redflight] Sent into battle

Who: Vastania and the Red Dragonsworn
What: After a bit of divine inspiration, Vas is digging in her hooves and organizing people.
Where: The Ruby Sanctum
When: Backdated to the 5th
Warnings: Nothing NSFW, but Vas is likely to literally knock some sense into people if they're stubborn. Nothing that'll hurt too bad, but enough to rattle most people.

"I kneel before You to beg Your aid."

The words of the prayer come more easily to her in Eredun than in Common. "I carry Your standard in a strange land, far away from the reach of the Exiles.

"There are demons at our neck. Guide my blade and let it cleanse them of their corruption. Let my shield be immovable, unable to buckle beneath their terrible blows.

"Grant me the strength to face my maddened forefathers. Let me not fall into their corruption even as I strike them." A pause. "Grant me the strength to tell my allies of the Defiled Ones, and bless them with the sense to see that I am of Your domain. Let them see that I am Exiled for following Your command and that of the Prophet."

Another pause. Her voice drops to a whisper, even though she knows that no-one else here speaks her native language.

"O Light, grant them sense, and me the strength to lead them!"

She waits, still kneeling, for an answer. The Light stirs, but it offers none.

Vastania waits a while still, silent. If Fin could see her now, she'd likely laugh until her tail fell off. No- Fin would knock her onto her tail and tell her to get back up, that's what she'd do. She'd ask what she was doing, dragging her hooves and moping when there was work to be done. And she'd have had these humans trained and drilled ten days ago.

The Light stirs again. Your answer.

The Vindicator looks up sharply. The Light is usually not very straightforward, but even she understands what this means. She utters a word of thanks and draws herself up, sheathing her sword. To be more like Fin... she closes her eyes for a moment and imagines what it must be like, to have those outstretched horns and heavy armor, carrying that claymore as if it was a feather. What it must be like to be so surefooted, so confident, that she might go into battle with a smirk on her face.

What she would do to prepare them if she was here. What she would do if the others refused to listen.

She walks to the edge of the Sanctum's central pond, then turns so she faces away from it. Vas breathes in deeply once, twice, to quell her shaking nerves. A third time, to clear her head.

A fourth, to issue her command.

"Dragonsworn, to me! Today, you will learn to be soldiers in this war against the Legion!"

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Zelos, or Kaneis as he's been telling the other Sworn that was his name, was...less than certain about these teachers. He could see that Vastania was a good person with good intentions, but from the way she talked and reacted to things- he had the strong sneaking suspicion she was a girl very fresh out of the abbey. Or whatever was the Draenei equivalent to an abbey. Meanwhile Maridian seemed a bit more worldy, and he was definitely seemed more friendly than any elf Zelos had encountered before.

But, like most of the rest of the others Redsworn, he was pretty sure that Maridian was completely, and absolutely, insane. Not even just a little insane, a lot insane.

However it wasn't like they had much of a choice. Questionable qualifications to be teachers or not, at least they knew some stuff about this world. Which was more than he could say.

And so, when they call he'll approach and address the two, in his usual apathetic and sarcastic tone.

"I dunno, what's the path for a guy who can only do the fire thingy? Because with fighting a Burning Legion, I can't but feel like it's just gonna be a path ending with a whole lotta dead."

Kaneis. Of all the other Redsworn she's met, he's stuck in her mind as probably one of the more capable members of their ragtag group, but he wasn't wrong when he said he had a way of trying peoples' nerves. She steels herself, still trying to channel that Warrior persona.

"You have a sword, yes? Do you not know how to swing it? Do you just lash it to your belt for show?" She approaches him, ankles shaky in spite of her efforts. "Is your back too frail to carry a warrior's suit of armor?"

Trying on people's nerves was a good way to put it. Even if she was much taller than him, he seemed less than fazed by her Warrior Persona. He simply looked up at her.

"Sure, my sword arm and back work," Maybe less so than usual, but he wasn't about to voice that. "Buuut you sure it'd do much good? Size of some of those demons out there, I feel like all my sword's gonna do is give them a paper-cut."

"Some good is better than none," she says as she stops before him. "If you think that resisting them is a worthless cause, by all means go. Throw your sword aside and run."

She leans in close, lowering her voice so only he can hear her. "But if you do that, the Legion will pursue you until you can run no longer. You have seen me, you know my name and who I serve. They will run you down, capture you, torture you, and force you to tell them who all has seen this Draenei Vindicator. And for the trouble you will have put him through, the Deceiver will wrench your soul from your body and banish it to a plane of endless torment."

She straightens, eyes hardened and jaw set. There isn't a word of it that she doesn't mean, even as ridiculous as it might sound. "Defeat is merely a probability, should you fight beside us. If you run, your damnation is a certainty."

Zelos stood through her little talk, listening. His face was neutral, no actual emotion showed through. Too many times had he had to listen to similar threats from Mithos to really show reactions.

When she finishes, he cocks his head to the side and look up to her. His tone is calm. "So what you're saying is...if any of us get capture and tortured by the Burning Legion, it is actually your fault?" He gives a little shrug. "That's good to know."

He knew it was a low blow, the weight of people's lives was a very heavy one. But hey, if she wanted to play tough commander? Gonna point it out.

But after he makes that remark, he simply gives a little smirk and his tone turns lighter.

"Anyway, I never said anything about running, my dear. I'm smart enough to see there's nowhere to run. Buuut I'm not optimistic enough to think I can take on a Legion with just a sword and a little fire. And since you're proclaiming to have the knowledge to fight these guys- I was kinda hoping you had some knowledge on some tricks or just what to do!"

"So, do you?"

Edited (what is grammar) 2014-04-06 23:12 (UTC)

Vas says nothing, but even she can't hide the frown spreading across her face. She's known since she saw the Legion forces in the forest that anyone who saw her, anyone who met with her, would be a prize for Kil'jaeden. She's known that if they fall into the Legion's hands, their fates will be on her head. But that doesn't make it any easier to have that fact thrown back in her face.

Regardless of whether she wanted to lead them, she'd already sealed their fates. In taking command, she might at least delay it.

"We have more than just a sword and a bit of magic on our side, Kaneis. Maridian and I are both trained in the ways of the Light and the sword. There are other Redsworn that have potential to use the Light, too. The Holy Light is the bane of the Legion. It is the best means by which to drive them back.

"And we are not alone. This world is home to many, many potential allies. Besides the dragons, there are a dozen peoples out beyond the Sanctum; the Kaldorei, the Tauren, the Trolls, the Pandaren and the Jinyu, and more. There are great spirits and powerful demigods. None of them desire to fall to the Legion. You may be one human, but you are not the whole of Azeroth."

If those words were meant to give him comfort, it did very little. Zelos had no delusions that he alone could stop the demons alone. He knew it was a job much bigger than one person like himself.

But...he wanted to survive. He wasn't ready to throw away his life to this cause, like these people seemed to be. And if his life had taught him anything, he had to rely on himself to survive. There would never be anyone who would save him, especially in this strange new world where barely anyone knew him. All those people Vastania had named off, he didn't trust a single one of them to even try to keep him safe.

"Heh. I don't know if you mean to, but when you put it that way? It makes me sound even more expendable." Useless too. Why bother with a guy who can barely do anything when they got plenty of people with their Holy Light?

Edited 2014-04-07 04:03 (UTC)

"You've got it backwards," Mar said, finally deciding that this was the time and place to interject. "Not one single person is expendable, out of all of them. Every loss hurts. Every cut bleeds. And that's why we fight.

"But turn it around, too!" He made a circle with a finger in the air. "Now I'm not saying one single person can't strike a powerful blow against the Legion on their own. With training and effort, a skilled warrior is a match for any individual Legion footsoldier, one on one. But against their stronger warriors -- the pit lords, the void terrors, the dreadlords -- then survival and victory come hand in hand with a hundred thousand cuts dealt by numerous hands. Shields to take blows, swords and spells to deal them, and magic to heal wounds. As many people working together as can work together, all to the same end."

He crosses his arms and listens to Mar when he decides to speak. Sure, it's a step up- but Zelos is a slow to trust sort of guy. He doesn't believe it entirely. But it's enough for him to back down for now at least. Zelos wasn't one really for long term confrontations.

"...Alright, if you guys say so. I'll learn whatever you guys have to teach me."

"Ha, excellent!" Mar pumped his fist to the sky. Somewhere along the line he'd lost all concept of restraint... "I'd suggest we start with training in arms and armor, first. If nothing else is coming to you, then perhaps you'll find a knack with them in turn."

This guy sure was...enthusiatic. He's only known a few elves, but none of them were this unrestrained or cheerful- so it's a bit of a strange sight for him to behold.

"Hmm...alright. I guess I could use more practice with my sword work," Sure. He's been doing it for years. But he couldn't deny that with the loss of his reflexes and strength- it was very likely his skills with a blade has suffered some.

"What sort do you favor? Are you accustomed to fighting in armor or with a shield? Do you have experience with maces, axes, or polearms?" Or staffs, but eh. Staffs.

At least, he's familiar with these sorts of questions and the weapons he's mentioning. Good, they aren't going to expect him to know how to use something weird like lasers or nunchucks.

"Ha, I fight with a shield- but I can wear armor too. Though...nothing as big as-" He makes a gesture towards Mar's gigantic pauldrons. "As your stuff. Weapons I'm good with short swords, long swords, daggers and I can use a mace in a pinch."

"Oh, don't let the size fool you. They're surprisingly light and mobile." To prove the point, Mar rotated both arms through a full range of motion, as easily as if he wore nothing at all. Of course, much of that could be attributed to his extreme familiarity with the armor. "And pauldron size is a symbol of status, you know. Once a while ago, a defective armor shipment left almost the entire orcish population wearing shoulder armor that was noticeably tiny. Still perfectly functional but they wanted to die of shame. You can't imagine the anger and embarrassment. It was kind of sad, really."

"Seriously?" He stares at Maridian. This story brings up many questions to Zelos's mind. What's the orcish population? What's wrong with tiny pauldrons? Is this guy for real? Is this world absolutely insane?

It takes a second or two before he comes out with the words that encompass his sentiments.

"...No offense, but that has to be one of the stupidiest things I've ever heard. And that's saying a lot."

"It's all the sillier considering the Tauren are part of the Horde, and their massive forms make the proud noble orcs look like petite and delicate flowers in comparison." Mar shrugged, because he was well aware how the Sindorei came out in comparison to orcs by that same standard. "But to be fair, they really looked stupid."

Horde? Tauren? He still didn't know what an Orc was- so that's just further confusing him. And making him think the people of this planet are very, very weird.

Which fair, isn't that far off an assessment.

"Right...I don't know what any of that stuff is, but I'll take your word for it!" Seems like the easiest course of action. "But I'll skip on the large pauldrons. Not my style."

"The Tauren are a proud race of extremely large people from Kalimdor. Massive, horned, furred, and with a penchant for nose-rings. A decent, stoic, compassionate people who will end your world if you cross them. The Horde is the alliance between the orcs, the Tauren, the Darkspear trolls, the free-willed undead called the Forsaken, the Sin'dorei -- that's me! -- the goblins of the Bilgewater Cartel, and the Huojin Pandaran."

How'd that cover it? Not knowing the orcs just never occurred to Mar...

He was just trying to visualize these Tauren guys when Mar starts rattling off the other Horde races. Oh perfect. More unfamiliar names and races. Just what he needed! "Yeah none of those ring a-"

Wait. He backtracks to one on that list that definitely strikes some familiarity.

"Wait. Don't the undead usually eat people?"

Sure, it was a hypocritical thing to point out considering he was a former dead guy himself, but that was different from undeath! He didn't even have the slightest bit of rot or decay!

Trust him, he's checked.

Mar waggled a finger at his words. "Technically, they eat corpses, so whether or not you consider those people is a personal thing. But it isn't as if they had a choice in whether or not to become undead, you know. Are we going to hold that against them?"

Ever since traveling with Lloyd, Zelos has tried extra hard to be more tolerant of other races. Half-elves, elves, dwarves- any other crazy race that's out there- they had a right to live how they want provided they weren't hurting anyone else doing so.

However accepting a people that eats them? Is possibly pushing Zelos to a level of tolerance that he (or any marginally-sane human, really) was not ready to jump.

"Are you kidding?! Of course it's still eating people! How many things do you eat while it's still alive- Wait no! I don't want to know! But I can tell you humans always eat their meat when it's dead, and trust me, it still counts as an animal!"

Okay, he was probably getting a little loud, but a line of frustration got crossed here.

"And don't talk to me about resurrection problems! That has nothing to do with not wanting someone to eat me!"

Maridian lowered his hand, some of the cheerfulness vanishing from his voice. "So would it be preferable to wage a war of extermination on a people who were involuntarily transformed into the undead as a result of a plague intended to subjugate them into a loyal army for the Lich King? Is that fair, just, or righteous? Should we abandon them, and thus encourage them to walk a dark path they're already tempted down, thus creating another enemy on our flanks when we're already neck-deep in them? Should we judge others by what they are, instead of who?"

Seriously? That was his argument? A guilt trip? At least it makes him pull back from his yelling and shake his head with a chuckle, reeling back his emotions. Zelos felt more comfortable keeping up his composure.

"Heh...just, righteous. You know, there's nothing worse than those words out of the mouth of an idiot."

He looks at Mar. In contrast to Mar's loss of cheer, there's a faint smirk on his face, but his eyes read nothing but completely coldness.

"Look, save the sad stories. Everyone has one and they don't justify anything. If your undead pals aren't killing innocent people, then I don't care what they do. But if they are? Then yeah, I'd easily choose the lives of those still living over the ones killing them. It's as simple as that."

Edited 2014-04-29 21:47 (UTC)

Guilt? Mar called it a mixture of basic ethics and pragmatism.

"You seemed to care a lot about the potential of being eaten," Mar pointed out mildly. Insults didn't bother him; he'd heard them all, and that was just counting his time here in the Sanctum. "For the record, I've worked with some Forsaken I would trust with my life, and have yet to be eaten once."

"It's a sorry way to go," He states simply enough.

"And that's just great for you! Really! But since I barely know you? That vouch really doesn't mean much." Since really, rep grinding for Zelos Wilder takes more work than the Black Prince- you cant even kill to earn his favor!

"But on that note, I should really go get to sword practice." And he's turning to leave.

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seesbosscrotch - 2014-04-30 15:38 (UTC) - Expand

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