Chat of Mythology

[westfallcorndog]

 Now that spring has officially sprung and the wonderful dastardly winter spirit has been vanquished, the streets of the Nexus are once again packed with warmbloods and breathers. Which is alright by Harrowheart; it makes it easier to invite friends to a pleasant afternoon out. He'd contacted Viatorus already and convinced him to meet for a chat on culture in an arboretum in the Wilds. It's a pleasant little area of split wood fences, gravel trails, and fantastical trees, each labeled with little brass plaques that tell of their world and the culture that surrounds them. 

While he waits he arranges a place to sit: A blanket on the ground to keep the dirt off of Viatorus' expensive clothes, books on the history and mythology of Azeroth tactically placed at the four corners to keep the wind from blowing the cloth away, and a picnic basket right there in the middle. He's dressed vibrantly in the same gaudy Hawaiian shirt he wore to the birthday party in the aquarium while he sits, casually listening to music from his phone as he gazes up at the lavender leaves of a weeping willow that's budding some kind of perfectly round, silver fruit. 

Comments

[westfallcorndog]

Harrow reaffirms his own arms crossed over his chest. "No corpses around here for me to raise, so that means no ghosts and ghouls. I'll put gargoyles back on the table. But if I give you a disease, who's gonna cleanse it? And you got no armor, so I'm not gonna use my axes."

His mouth shifts uncertainly from side to side as he mulls over the last concession. No worgen form...

"I don't know if I could curse you if I bit or scratched you as a worgen. I won't do it. But if it makes you feel better, I think you're underestimatin' the advantage of bein' undead in a duel. I promise you won't think I'm handicapped once we get down to it."

He begins to undo the wraps that hold his hands hostage against his wrists. When his hands are free to float they hover with their palms near his wrists and begin to conjure some kind of heavy ice around his wrists. As the magic continues it becomes apparent that he's making a set of heavy gauntlets formed like fists, and when he's through he holds them up, ready to punch. His real hands hover at the ready just in front of him.

"C'mon," he goads, "It'll be fun."

[heirtothearcane]

Unfortunately for Isidor's ego, those are all valid points. If she were to get cursed or diseased because of a frivolous fight her family would not be pleased. She inhales deeply as she thinks about it and then wrinkles her nose up at the sight of the ice gauntlets. No fire while he has ice? Now that is a handicap.

"Fine," she announces so suddenly that it makes Viatorus jump. Turning to the picnic blanket, she takes off her jacket, shoes, socks, and even removes her blouse in favour of the vest underneath. As she moves opposite Harrowheart, she reties her hair into a bun and then shoos her brother out of the way. Once Viatorus has skittered over to the picnic mat she takes up a fighting stance: Fists up, shoulders tight, legs stable.

"Three!" It's almost as if a switch has been flipped. She barks loudly, aggressively, authoritatively. "Two! One!"

And because she is not the type to work from the defensive: Three quick-fire force strikes are thrown his way in a one-two-low strike combination.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrow prepares himself for whatever spells may come, but what does eventually happen was completely out of his expectations. He's seen instant magic, he's seen unspoken magic, but that's the thing. He's seen it. Magic that's instant, unspoken, and unseen? Yeah, he definitely takes those hits. Invisible punches to the face, chest, and gut all hit him in rapid succession and he staggers back, doubles over. He doesn't cry out in any pain, though, despite her well-placed blows.

He rights himself quickly and decides he'll repay her for the strikes. One of his hands grips the air and twists, coalescing the shadows around Isidor and dragging her with force toward him. The other conjures ice around his own feet to brace his stance as he waits for her to collide into him, one frozen fist at the ready to strike her in the stomach with equal-opposite force. Two can play at the game of punches.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Just as he didn't expect her strikes to be like that, she didn't expect him to fail to react. It surprises her, but she's quickly brought back to the present as Harrowheart makes his own move. Shadow magic is not something she's used to. She's only seen a little and it was barely touched on. The smallest spark of panic glints in her eyes as she does her best to resist the pull.

One thing she's certain of: In a hand to hand fight, she wouldn't stand a chance against someone big, strong and trained like Harrowheart. So close quarters aren't a good idea for her.

Taking a chance, her hands twist parallel to each other and with a yell she pulls them apart suddenly, she throws an arm up to shield her eyes from the blast of light that she summoned. If that doesn't scare off the shadows, she might be in serious trouble.

[westfallcorndog]

The pull of the shadows stops abruptly with the summoning of the light, saving Isidor from being forced too close to an icy fist. It's not just the shadow that stops, though; Harrowheart himself sways like a drunk, his eyes blinking fast as he tries to regain his vision.

He can't see her, but he knows he can't hesitate any longer. With the world still a white blur he swipes his arms upwards in the air, and with it follow the motions of his floating hands. Two tracks of icy stalagmites burst violently from the ground and dart forward: one to where he last saw Isidor and the other to her right, where he assumes she might leap to dodge.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

The light attack doesn't put her at too much of an advantage. She's still a little disoriented as she lowers her arm. What she doesn't expect is blindly thrown lines of icy spokes. With a yelp, she ducks and rolls out of the way of one, only to get caught by the second. Another cry springs from her lips, but when she stands and touches the gash in her shoulder, she stares Harrowheart down with a glare burning so furiously that she might not even need fire magic.

She sweeps her hands, earth bursting up at an angle to push up at Harrowheart's chest. At the very least it will block her from him. Hopefully, though, it will push him back.

Meanwhile, Viatorus: Sweating

[westfallcorndog]

The sound of her cry alerts him to her position and his blind eyes whip immediately in her direction. He parts his lips to say something, but just as his vision returns he sees the look on her face. That's probably not good.

He fails to dodge the sudden impact of the earth that rises up to hit him in the chest. A dull and hollow thump reverberates from his chest when he's hit and once more as his body hits the ground. Both sound like they ought to hurt, but other than the sounds of his surprise and a grit-toothed gasp as he falls, Harrowheart remains mostly silent. That is until he sucks in his first breath and starts to cough and gag. He rolls to one side and spits up some kind of bitter, black bile with the acrid smell of rancid meat. Something inside of him must be damaged, if not by that last strike then by her first few.

Though he starts to rise up he finds that the wall of earth is still there to keep them separated. He can work with this. He crawls backwards a few feet from it, still sitting on the grass to keep his profile low and protected by the wall. Once more his floating hands are blindly gesturing toward where he last knew Isidor to be.

This spell should be familiar. The grass around her dies as oily, skeletal arms rise from the ground dripping with shadow like melting flesh and smelling heavily of rot. The hands grope sightlessly, determined to pull something living into their grasp. But these shadow conjurations are not as kind as the ones Viatorus stood over. Their touch seeks desperately to steal any tiny shred of life force it can, to pluck away at the energy of the living with the magic of death and time.

& Hyperventilating

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Unsurprisingly, as someone who specialises in fire Isidor is not as skilled in water magic. So when she sees, and feels, the hands pulling at her, hurting her, a second of panic hits her. And then she grits her teeth angrily. With a furious shout, she sends a burst of banishment magic down at them and steps away from where the hands had appeared.

Eager to get to Harrowheart while he's down, she hisses old Germanic words and summons a one handed battle axe that shimmers with a purple sheen against what appears to be dark metal. She crouches and with another gesture the earth beneath her surges upward, allowing her to step onto the wall that had attacked Harrowheart. With a height advantage like this, she fully intends to jump down at her opponent, bringing the axe down on him with both hands to exact some delicious revenge.

Even if she can't fully see what he's doing until she jumps over her earthen structure.

[westfallcorndog]

And over that earthen wall she finds him mostly on his side, legs primed to spring up, arms braced against the ground to push him to his feet. It seems, though, that he had expected she might come from one side of the wall or the other, not over it. He springs to his feet as soon as he hears her, but her movement from an unexpected direction distracts him and he misses a prime opportunity to swing at her by having to turn her way.

She has an axe! Just the sight of it makes his own axes on the blanket tremble and shake with a lust for battle, a desire to prove themselves. Their runes blaze, but they don't rise. They aren't allowed in this fight and they must obey their master.

Their master who takes Isidor's summoned axe right in the sternum. He howls in agony and looks down in shock at what she's done. He tries in vain to paw at the wound, but icy fists are useless to remove a weapon from his chest.

Then he stares at her in shock and sadness, his eyes full of betrayal, his lips parted to speak. He whispers some small word too hard to hear... And then a bubble of black blood wells up in his mouth and pops. He falls to the ground convulsing and coughing on his own blood.

And then he's still.

His dead and motionless eyes stare up at the sky.

Holy shit, Isidor! You killed him!

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Isidor's shock is plastered across her face. Her eyes, wide and horrified, are fixed on Harrowheart's. As fierce as she had been a moment ago, she had fully expected him to not only anticipate her move but to block it. Even when her usual opponents didn't physically block her strikes, they had magical shields to defend with.

When he falls, she lets him, the axe handle slipping from her hands. Has she... actually killed him? She's never killed anything before. Not even for sport or food. The axe disintegrates, vanishing to leave the gory wound clear to see. Isidor just... stares in shock.

To the side, Viatorus watches. Small, terrified sounds trickle from his open mouth. He tries to speak, tries to motion, tries to breathe, but the sight of friend dead at his sister's hand is overwhelming. He takes a few steps vaguely towards the two of them and then the light headedness rushes over him. Darkness clouds his vision and he falls to the ground.

With the thump of her brother hitting the grass too, Isidor looks slowly between Harrowheart and her brother. Though still in a daze she starts to wander to check that Viatorus has fainted like she suspects and not actually gotten hurt.

[westfallcorndog]

Oh Light. Viatorus fainted, didn't he? When Isidor is finally away from him Harrow's eyes shift sideways to see what's going on. And there he is, sweet and delicate V taking a stress-induced nap in the dirt.

Should he move? He should move, right? Or would that scare him more, seeing him rising up? Without realizing it Harrow starts to frown. What should he do?!

His hands are still floating in the air not far from his body, palms pressed tightly together in worry. Oh dear, oh dear... Perhaps it's best to let the brother and sister have a moment together before he rises, bloodied, from the grave once more.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Kneeling by her brother, checking his pulse, and then putting him in the recovery position is familiar enough to keep her calm. She has no idea what to do. What does she do now? Her head shoots up and she looks around, trying to spot any bystanders who might come over to see what the ruckus is about.

With Viatorus safely in the correct position, she turns to look over at Harrowheart again.

"Shit... Shit, shit..." Isidor stands and hovers over Harrowheart. Very, very hesitantly, she bends down... and then quickly taps him on the shoulder. Please don't be dead-dead, please don't be...

Isidor: *pokes dead body with stick*

[westfallcorndog]

Isidor pokes him and out comes a bubble of blood from the gash in his chest. Pleasant. Then there are a pair of cold hands at her neck from behind, the fingers wrapped around her throat – yet delicately, lightly enough not to really restrict any air flow. The hands shake her head back and forth in a mock choke, and that bubble in his chest turns into a drowned, wheezy laugh.

"I can still win," he rasps, his bloody teeth exposed in a stupid, playful grin.

Dead body: *Decides it's a good time to make joke around*

[heirtothedragonsfire]

The unexpected bubbling of blood makes Isidor gag and she steps back, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. It's as she moves backwards that she feels the hands around her neck. Between their surprise appearance and the apparently-still-not-dead Harrowheart speaking, Isidor lets out a shriek. She bats at his hands before she pulls her own close and sends out a blast of force magic to get them off of her.

"What the hell?!" Once his hands are gone she flails at him. "You're ok?"

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart cackles even as his hands are so violently pushed away from Isidor's neck. Laughing this hard makes it difficult to sit upright but he forces himself into a sitting position and eventually to his feet. The axe wound to his chest doesn't seem to be slowing him down any more than her initial force strikes had: pain in the moment, damage to the body, but not enough to keep him down for good.

He plants his frozen fists against his hips and tilts his head at Isidor. "Were you worried about me?" he teases, though the playfulness in his tone is slightly ruined by the wheeziness from the wound.

He laughs again, just one big bark, and smashes his conjured gauntlets together to shatter the ice they were made of. His real hands return to him with the bandages in their grasp and begin to tie themselves back to where they belong. He keeps his eyes on his work until it's time to speak again.

Looking at her seriously he asks, "How'd it feel deep down, though? Killin' someone? Did it make ya feel powerful? Or was it somethin' else?"

[heirtothedragonsfire]

His playfulness and general joviality receives heavy amounts of scowling from Isidor which she does instead of replying to his question. When he smashes the ice, she flinches and then wrinkles up her nose as if to try and hide the twitch.

By the time he asks his second set of questions, she's a little more composed. She folds her arms tightly against her. "But I didn't, did I? I didn't kill you. Otherwise you wouldn't still be talking."

[westfallcorndog]

Certain subtleties are often lost on Harrowheart, but a person pointedly avoiding expressing their feelings over a murder (real or otherwise) is something he spots with ease. He smiles sadly and for a moment becomes very conscious of the blood on his chest. After looking down at it he returns to watching Isidor.

"It's okay not to like it," he says quietly. "I could tell you didn't. You were scared. You were worried. And that's okay. It's better that way, I promise. It's better not to like it. Doesn't make you weak. It's the right way to be."

But somehow saying even that little on the subject feels so heavy, so awkward. He stands in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before he forces both a laugh and a smile. "So don't bring out a weapon unless you're ready to see someone die, huh?"

And knowing her -- what little he does -- he has the feeling she won't want to answer to that little reprimand. To any of it, probably. He goes toward her to put a hand on her shoulder but stops abruptly halfway through the motion. No, she probably wouldn't like that. He tries to cover up his continued awkwardness by putting his hands in his pockets, and he nods in Viatorus' direction.

"How 'bout we go check on him, huh? Break the news?"

[heirtothedragonsfire]

He's right in feeling that it's a heavy topic. Isidor turns her head away from him sharply and refuses to look at him, which surely cements the thought. When he goes and turns the conversation to Viatorus, she suddenly snaps, "I know it doesn't make me weak. Knowing the value of life isn't foolish. I know that." A second before she adds, "I thought you'd be better prepared. You said you could take me. Shielding is standard duelling knowledge."

There are some things she'd rather not have to go through with her brother listening if she can help it. Talking about this more than necessary definitely applies.

[westfallcorndog]

At first her snappy change of subject takes Harrowheart off guard. And then he laughs! One more big bark, not exactly humorous but certainly amused.

"Death knights can't make shields," he says very matter of factly. "Nothin' that woulda blocked that. I can block projectile spells, and I can catch 'em and throw 'em back, but...'

He leans back and considers Isidor thoughtfully. "You don't cast like that, though. I couldn't see your magic. Couldn't catch it or stop it. A normal caster, I coulda silenced 'em by chokin' 'em with shadows or frozen their thoughts, but it only works if I know you're castin'. But you got martial magic like a monk. It comes right outta your body with your movements. So next time I'd have to stop you before you start. Freeze you up, stop you from movin'."

He looks down at his wounds once more. "Don't know how to make a shield. Don't think I can learn, either. But normally I got my runeblades and my armor." He pauses for a moment to think it all over. "I've never been in a duel for fun. I didn't think it'd be an issue."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

All through his explanations and musings, she watches him with half narrowed eyes. This is all exceptionally useful information, especially if Viatorus ever goes to Harrowheart's world. That doesn't entirely quieten the upset and anger stirring inside her.

"You shouldn't duel for fun," is all she can think to pick on. "You duel to test yourself and your opponent." A pause. "You can get an axe buried in your chest with that kind of thinking."

In the background, Viatorus begins to stir, sitting up slowly and rubbing his head.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrow frowns at her reprimanding and mumbles something hard to hear that sounds a lot like "M'sorry, Isidor..."

It's easy to distract himself by turning his attention to the movement he catches out of the corner of his eye. His lips press tightly together and he watches Viatorus in thought and worry before he chooses to return his attention to Isidor.

"Your shoulder..." he says, gently brushing his fingers against his own. "It doesn't really hurt, I hope? I didn't really mean to..." He stops mid-sentence, clears his throat, and takes a step forward with his hands up. "Here, I-I can put some ice on it. Let me make it better? Before he wakes up?"

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Her own frown deepens, both at his apology and his concern. She reaches back with a wince to touch the wound, drawing her hand back to look at the blood. "Not as bad as I got you, but..." Her eyes slide up to his. For the first time she doesn't look entirely furious. "I'll get it looked at, it's ok." Then her gaze flickers to Harrowheart's chest. "Is that going to... mend? Or scar?"

[westfallcorndog]

Isidor's eye contact brings the hint of a smile to the corners of his lips, a tiny motion that's just enough to crease his eyes. Certainly enough to make him forget about their respective wounds. And so when she brings his up he looks down in total surprise and breathes the smallest chuckle.

"Wouldn't it be somethin' if it scarred? Then my front might match my back. And every time I took my shirt off I'd think if you. And folks might ask me what happened, and I could say 'I was in a duel to the death with Isidor Durant.' And they'll say, 'The Isidor Durant? The one men fear and ladies wanna be? Well I can see why you lost.' And I'll laugh and say 'Yeah, but some day we're gonna have a rematch and maybe I'll do better.'"

He shakes his head and with a little laugh says,"It'll heal like it never happened. But I'll remember. And maybe I'll tell the story anyway."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Though her expression remains mostly neutral, her suppressed smile and playful narrowing of her eyes gives away her amusement for someone watching keenly, as Harrowheart most likely is. "Do all your compliments come in indirect storytelling forms?"

He only gets a moment however before there's a yelp from nearby. "H-H-H-Harrowheart!" Viatrous slowly starts to scramble to his feet, prompting Isidor to roll her eyes and shake her head before going over to help him.

[westfallcorndog]

He parts his lips to answer, but before he has the chance someone is so energetically calling his name. Such imperfect timing; he can't help but be amused by fate. Isidor's eyeroll brings him a smile that only grows when he sees how frantic poor V is. He follows her to his friend, his arms spread wide to greet him as he rises.

"Viatorus! You woke up just in time. I think I was runnin' outta creative ways to say nice things about your sister."

He pats V on the cheek with a cold hand just to be sure he's fully awake. "You doin' okay, bud? You want another piece of that apple pie? The sugar might make ya feel better. I think there's enough left for you and Isidor to share before y'all head home."