The Care and Feeding of an Unholy Ghoul, chapter 37.

[kalenedral]

Original location: http://koteb.shivtr.com/forum_threads/927860

Who: Kalenedral, Visolela, Giovanni, Valeric, Malko, Elamarya.
What: Death Knight hijinks at the Ebon Hold.

(( OOC: This section is too empty! Anyone can feel free to join in on this scene; it's wide open. Hopefully you guys don't leave me hanging. XD One note: I prefer writing in third person past tense. I only default to third person present tense in-game because it matches the built-in emotes. ))

Location and time: the Ebon Hold, early evening.

- - - - -

The ghoul was at it again.

Kalenedral paused between hammer blows to sigh, very faintly, and straightened his posture so as to glance back over his shoulder at the lesser undead. Limbface had always been a rather... free-willed example of Unholy magic compared to most others Kal had met, but he usually had few reasons to complain about it.

The ghoul was standing nearby for the moment, and it held up a razor-clawed hand, bandage-wrapped palm full of saronite pebbles. "Raawgh?"

"We have discussed this before," the Knight said mildly, as though he was a living creature simply speaking to a child in his care, "why do you persist in this?"

Limbface stared, not seeming to comprehend.

"Very well," Kal sighed again, even fainter, and held out his own palm. The ghoul poured the small collection of pebbles into his gauntleted hand. At the very least, it was less debris that Corvus would have underfoot.

"Rawageh!"

"Quite," the Knight agreed with dry humor. "Now go... follow that patrol around. Yes. Do that. I have work to do."

That he absently pocketed the small handful of pebbles instead of simply tossing them aside didn't really register with the former elf. He turned back to the large anvil and eyed the damaged armor Corvus had shuffled off onto him to fix, and shook his head. The elementium had, of course, gone cold.

"Why is it," inquired a cool voice from behind him, a woman's voice, "That you are far more lenient with your ghoul than you ever were with your men?"

Visolela did not sound resentful; there was, in fact, barely any inflection at all to her tone, save perhaps some small amusement.

In the old days, he would not have heard even that, for she'd been stone cold as any glacial lake-- chill, remote, any shred of her own self locked behind heavy ice... exceedingly useful when she had once been his subordinate.

Freedom had not changed this very much, but as he himself knew, subtle emotions did not mean no emotions.

"I am not his commanding officer," Kalenedral replied simply, as though it was a completely serious question, "I endeavor to be a better master than ours was. I cannot free him, after all." Because for all that Limbface was a relatively intelligent ghoul... he was still a ghoul.

The former elf didn't immediately turn to face her, familiarity allowing him to know exactly who it was at the first word. Instead, he continued to inspect the armor's lingering damage, lifting the breastplate to examine the remaining massive dents that had rendered it all but unwearable for whichever knight it had belonged to before they'd sold it to Corvus. He hadn't quite beaten them all out while the metal was still hot. Would another re-heating make it brittle? The smith considered this.

At worst, the majority of it could be melted back down again and used for something else entirely. Elementium arrowheads? He would need to ask Imhadria at the Shadow Vault if such a thing would be useful enough to warrant the materials.

"Me... follow!" Limbface managed a few words as he trundled along behind the two mounted knights patrolling in a large circle around this level of the Ebon Hold. The ghoul was really quite easy to please.

"Aren't you?" Visolela's tone did not change. Her own ghoul was nowhere to be seen; maybe that was just the best way to keep it out of trouble.

She did not opine about the viability of the armor; she was no smith.

Corpulous shook his massive, fleshy, scar-ridden head at the Death Knight before him. How could anyone turn down a perfectly delicious meal of Bowels n' Brains was beyond the Abomination -like most tasks which required complex thought. "You," rumbled the creature, poking one bloated sausage-like finger at the bag of bones in plate armour. "Strange. Why eat fish? Entrails better. Fish no maggots yet. Bad."

The afore-mentioned Death Knight let out a rattling sigh, putting down a half-chewed fish head before speaking. "We've had this talk many times before, and while I am more than happy to devour the flesh of the living, the taste of carrion gets rather droll and variety is the spice of life. Or unlife, rather," came the neutral reply, Giovanni pausing to take a bite out of what was left of his meal. "Meat is still meat. Furthermore, this particular fish head is slightly stale. So there," he added as Corpulous sighed -or at least it sounded like a sigh- and lumbered off, passing by a pair of his fellow knights who were mounted on their steeds. He gave them a brief salute, then returned to quietly nibbling on stale fish bits.

"Perhaps," Kalenedral stated with a glance back over his shoulder, his own tone absolutely dry, "I simply like him more." With that, the former elf set down the breastplate and turned partially toward her, gesturing vaguely at it. "Do you know anything of arrowheads?"

Limbface for his own part continued to trundle along behind the two mounted knights, but when he came closer to the one nibbling on fish he paused for a moment. "What... stale?"

Having been somewhat of a food connoisseur prior to being life-impaired, Giovanni savoured the subtle taste of slightly-rotten seafood, before taking a sip of what would be the unholy combination of spinal fluid and corpse ichor, distilled into a thick broth. He caught the ghoul wandering into his peripheral vision, and immediately fixed it with an unblinking stare. More specifically, the 'No-You-Can't-Have-Any-I-Spent-A-Whole-Day-In-Zul-Gurub-Just-For-These-Fish' stare. He did, however, grab a stray, bloodied rib from a nearby pile of gibs and pushed it forward instead.

"Careful," Visolela replied just as dryly. "You're starting to sound like the living."

She glanced sidelong at Giovanni and his gourmet musings, impassive enough to conceal whatever distaste she might have felt-- if she felt any. "Always the connoisseur," she murmured.

And of arrows, she added pleasantly, "I think I shot you with a few before you killed me."

Limbface had a conundrum: follow the patrol, or eat foods. The ghoul's head swiveled back toward his master, then forward again to look at Gio and the rib. Follow the patrol, or eat foods. Follow the-- ah, to hell with it. The ghoul could tell when an order was serious or not, and this one hadn't really been.

Food it was! Limbface threw his arms out for a second in what could only be considered a 'flail' as he reached his decision, and then trotted forward to take the rib in his claws and start gnawing on it with big, misshapen teeth. "Rwaugh!" That was the sound of a pleased ghoul.

Of course, he continued to stare at Giovanni's spoils, all the same.

Kalenedral watched the proceedings while listening to Visolela, and her last remark actually earned a laugh from the senior knight. Not his usual nigh-silent one, either, but closer to a normal person's volume. "Perhaps you did, at that," he noted, amusement still coloring his voice, "there were a lot of arrows."

Gallows humor? From a Death Knight? It's likelier than you think.

"I know nothing of them except how to pull them out of my flesh," he added more seriously, "and how to forge them. I know we use saronite, but I haven't heard if elementium is worth the materials. It certainly isn't much more difficult to acquire."

Visolela eyed the cooled armor. "I think it's worth more to try to salvage this piece, than to break it down into arrowheads. I'm no armorer, but cooling a smelted bar before it's worked into something else doesn't harm the metal."

After a moment, she added wryly, "It wouldn't be we Death Knights who'd make much use of them anyway; most of our... of the dead rangers serve Sylvanas now. And I doubt you'd want to contribute to her war efforts."

Kalenedral looked sour for a moment at the mention of the banshee. "I believe I would turn it into belt buckles before donating something from my hammer to her present course," he agreed, "which may be its fate if the next re-heating causes any structural problems."

"She is not who she once was," Visolela stated quietly. "I did not see our Ranger General in her eyes. In life, she was formidable; in unlife, she is implacable. Or she intends to be."

Her expression did not change, but her voice was now like the slow, steady drip of water from an icicle. "I don't thank fortune that I was made a Death Knight, but I do thank it that I was not made a Banshee... to be sundered from herself for so long, I don't think that her self found its way back, even if her soul has. Which is to say, it will not end with Koltira. You'd best make many suits of armor."

The human saw the three from afar, as he sat motionlessly against the stone cold walls of the ebon hold. He muttered to himself, though this was the closest thing to amusement he found he could muster. He knew he should be getting back to Stormwind City to look for some work, but still he couldn't help but sit and watch his fellow Death Knights. So much that he could ask them, so little he was really willing to. Instead he sat perfectly still, weaving bits of blood magic through his fingers.

Gio didn't mind ghoul-sitting someone else's...ghoul for a bit, seeing as that certain someone helped with the painstaking chore of keeping everyone's armour and weapons in shape. It was the least he could do. He watched, amused as Kalenedral's pet gnawed happily on the rib, before fixing the pile of fish with a hungry stare. A few moments of awkward, hungry -mostly on Limbface's part- passed.

"Well," sighed the Forsaken as he dipped a handful of half-frozen fish entrails in ichor and tossed it at the ghoul. "You've twisted my arm. I do owe your master for helping me keep my equipment in good shape, after all."

Kalenedral was silent in response to Visolela, at least at first. He turned back to the armor and picked up an extremely mangled gauntlet. "Some of this," he said simply, "will need to be melted down and reforged from scratch. But yes, I intend... we must recover our brother. Sylvanas should have more respect for her fellow former minions of Arthas, and she should know her place in regards to us. We are allies, not servants, and she is certainly no Highlord Mograine."

Why yes, that was a hint of agitation in his voice! Koltira's fate was something that rankled Kalenedral, but he would not be stupid enough to try to take action before given the word. The former Commander casually tossed the gauntlet into a pile of broken and mangled armor near the forge. "To expect either of those two to put a faction leader's whims above who and what they are is nonsensical. Neither side should have promoted either of them. And they should not have accepted it."

Limbface caught the offering in his large claws with a triumphant "Awgh!" and chowed down. Being a Limbface was apparently a good thing right now, with all this good will toward blacksmiths!

Visolela's tone, by contrast, became somehow even more tranquil. "She is not bound by such notions," she informed Kalenedral. "It is we, to her mind, who must show solidarity with her."

Sensing the weight of another's gaze on her (one to whom she was not speaking), she looked over her shoulder at whomever it might be: Valeric. Her eyebrow quirked ever-so-slightly at his weighty silence.

Nods to the lady slowly, a brief grin on his face. He stands up, heading for the balcony. He was due back in stormwind after all.

Kal gave a soft snort at Visolela's reply. "It is not she who freed us. It is all very well and good to expect that of her Forsaken, but there is no other in this world -- or the next -- who can command me above Highlord Mograine." It was very matter-of-fact, and he followed the other elf's look, taking note of the walking Knight and his brief grin.

"Evening, brother," he said as the other man passed.

Limbface earned a glance as well, and a nod from Kalenedral to Giovanni. "He's not terribly greedy, for a ghoul," he remarked, "but I think even he appreciates a treat now and then."

(DYNAMIC ENTRY)

An unmistakable roar sounded through Acherus, without a doubt a dragons. Suddenly, a black drake smashed into the railing of the Ebon Hold, where one would typically land if arriving by mount.

The Death Knight atop it was sent flying towards the middle of the hold, bouncing off the stone floor with sickening thuds before colliding with the large training dummy in the very center.

After moments of silence, all that can be heard is a low groan followed by, "Ooowwww..."

"I don't think that the particulars matter; she perceives herself as a force unto herself, and it is we who must serve."

Visolela then watched the new arrival's arrival in bemused silence. Perhaps death had affected their ability to aim? "That'll be the death of him someday," she deadpanned, her expression as solemn as ever.

"...I suppose that is her freedom, to believe what she will," Kalenedral said mildly, a moment after the newcomer skipped like a stone into the training pit. He set down another piece of armor and then walked to the edge of the lowered area, still speaking to Visolela for the moment, "I will enjoy exercising my freedom to teach her otherwise, one day."

That the former elf hoped that it would be sooner rather than later, went without saying.

A glance at his ghoul sent Limbface running to the balcony, and Kal turned his attention to the crashed Knight below. "Poor aim," he commented dryly, as though it needed pointing out.

Oh yes, the Ebon Hold was just full of comedians tonight.

Isaiah moved into a seated position, looking up at the audience that gathered. After glancing around a moment, he sprang to his feet and sprinted to where his 'mount' lay.

"Yes, yes, you were right.. It was probably a bad idea to try to break in a black one."

He spoke to no one in particular, soon giving the drake a boot to the head before continuing to the nearest abomination.

"Hey, friend, move that Drake out of the way, will ya? Thanks."

"ME FRAND? YES I MOVE FOR YOU"

The death knight smirked and walked smoothly back to where the few other Knights had watched him tumble.

Valeric regained his composer after the the newest Death Knights entry, looking to the Male Elf he nods and says:

"Evening"

Looking to the fellow human he grinned a bit, before saying:

"Lost control of your mount eh?"

A draenei death knight materialized from the other floor, looking around in disbelief. She blinked upon seeing the drake and Malko, inclining her head slightly as she walked over to the gathering.

"...Can someone tell me what that loud crash was? Sounded like the Hold was under attack." She crossed her arms and looked over the group.

"I rather think it was the Hold that did the attacking," Kalenedral replied dryly, "the balcony certainly fared better than the dragon."

An enthusiastic "Yawgh!" sounded from the balcony's direction; Limbface was at least enjoying the distraction.

Kal remained standing where he'd paused at the edge of the training pit, openly giving Malko an assessing look. With all that crunching, it was a wonder he didn't have a rib sticking up out of his throat! Death Knights were inherently durable, at least.

"Black drakes aren't too keen on being ridden, I found out." He rubbed at his chin in thought for a moment as the drake was dragged by them by the abomination.

"It's a wonder I flew it in from the Twilight Highlands, to begin with!"

His look turned to Kalenedral, and the ghoul and he furrowed his brows. "Blasted thing, I'm going to have to raise it if I want a reliable mount, eh?"

Inwardly, Gio was rather glad someone, or something shared his tastes when it came to eating carrion. He offered another ichor-dipped rib to the ghoul, when the loud resounding crash shook the hold...well, not exactly the entire hold, but it did rattle the pile of gibs he was eating. He winced when the new arrival was sent skidding across the stone floor. This was why he preferred his trusty bone gryphon over any other mount, though it did make him snicker as an Abomination dragged the frazzled, manhandled drake away.

His curiosity piqued, the Forsaken packed -or shoved, rather- the unidentifiable remains of his meal into what looked to be a lunch box, before wandering over to the training ring.

"You realize, of course," Kal offered slowly, "that they are about as sentient as you or I, yes? Perhaps you could strike a bargain of some kind," he glanced after the hapless dragon and added, "...Although not with that one, perhaps."

Limbface appeared to decide that the abomination and the dragon were boring, and bounded back over to his master. That this put him near where the treat-carrying Giovanni was heading to was just a coincidence, of course!

"Spare the rod," Visolela remarked placidly to Isaiah, "And spoil the child."

He eyed the dazed black drake, while plucking another half eaten rib from his lunch box and chewing on it. "Break it in or put it out of its misery. At least those of the other flights are...open to compromise," he spoke, smirking -or at least it looked like a smirk, what with parts of his lips missing- slightly. "It'll take more than a rod, I'm afraid."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Limbface lumbering over in a rather haphazard manner. Feeling particularly generous, he tossed the cracked rib to the ghoul.

Limbface caught the rib in his large claws and began gnawing contently on it. Crunch, crack!

"You're going to spoil my ghoul," Kalenedral remarked mildly. It wasn't really a complaint, however; he sounded genuinely amused at this idea, if in an extremely understated way.

Visolela was given a sidelong glance. "This explains much." Never mind that once upon a time, he'd been the one with the rod.

"Yes, well, I'm sure the alliance wouldn't want me dealing with black drakes. Besides, I'm more about bones and frostfire myself."

He chuckled and held his hand out to the elf closest to him, Kalenedral.

"I'm Isaiah. Izzy if you please."

He then gave a curt nod to the elf woman and the undead with the morbid lunchbox.

"Mn, I suppose that would make things a big more complicated," Kalenedral agreed, sounding a little distracted. He knew intellectually that the blood elves had been Alliance not all that long ago -- that he himself had undoubtedly died as a member of the Alliance. But his absolute lack of memory of anything before his re-birth made the faction and its ways a foggy, distant outline at best. It was more than slightly disconcerting, sometimes.

He stared off into space for a moment while thinking about this, then blinked and looked down at the proffered hand. "Kalenedral," he replied in turn, clasping Isaiah's hand properly. Travelling around with a living priest had taught him that much in the way of manners, at least.

"I find our undead gryphons to be the most reliable," he agreed, "being dead, they do not tire. Being loyal to the Ebon Blade, they do not balk."

"Visolela," she replied to Isaiah, her tone blandly pleasant but still somewhat cool-- not unfriendliness, but understated reserve.

She did not smile, but her countenance wasn't unfriendly, any more than an iceberg floating a safe distance away might be unfriendly. Isaiah was part of their brotherhood, after all, despite he and she having clearly served at different posts.

A quick glance made note of Kalenedral's reciprocated handclasp, though she said nothing of it.

"Well, it's either I tip you generously for offering to keep my equipment in good shape, or I spoil your ghoul silly," Gio replied as he closed the box. He had a surplus of ribs (both cracked and non) anyway, it wouldn't hurt to give some away.

He gave Isaiah a once over; at least this member of the Alliance saw past that vitrolic, openly hostile picture both factions had painted of the other, and for that, Gio was more than happy to give his fellow Knight a light, polite bow. "Giovanni. And if you wish for advice when riding and taking care of a bone gryphon, I will be more than happy to help."

Valeric was still standing around, neglecting his duties as usual, though the turn of events here in the Hold were rather amusing indeed. It wasn't often thay he got to see members of the Horde after all.

He gave an amused look towards Limbface, and looked back at the crowd. It was quite the group that had gathered here. He looked over to Issiah:

"I'm sure the Alliance wouldn't like that indeed. What in Azeroth made you want to tame a Black Dragon anyway?"

He said with amusement flickering through his voice.

Izzy smiled, greatly appreciating the Elfs firm handshake. "Good meeting you three, whatever you formerly were is but semantics. We're all on the same boat, now."

He nodded to the Undead, and to the female elf in acknowledgement, soon hearing the voice of another behind him. Turning to face him, he chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, they're strong! I respect that much of them, at least. I might as well go subjugate a Frostwyrm though. Now they are quite beautiful creatures."

Kalenedral chuckled very, very faintly at Giovanni. It was rare for him to be any louder than that outside of the euphoric rush of a battlefield. "It's as much to assist Corvus as anything, but I do appreciate the effort, regardless."

"Me... spoiled?" Limbface managed, looking down at his rather gruesome form. There didn't seem to be any mold! Well, other than a small patch on the exposed meat of his leg. The ghoul blinked and scraped it off with a claw, working very intently. There! See? Not spoiled. Rotting, though, was a given.

Kal offered a nod at Izzy, "Death Knights first and foremost. Although I was undoubtedly on the same side of the war as you, in life, the high elves would sooner take my head than count me among their number, despite having surely died as one of their kind." Thus, in order to forge alliances on behalf of the Highlord, he fought alongside the blood elves. They happened to be the living faction that he... blended in with, however haphazardly.

"For all we know," Kalenedral added with dry, dark amusement, "I may very well have died defending one of the very cities I now sometimes attack."

"Me... no spoil!" Limbface chimed in quite proudly. See? No mold! He ate his maggots when they were still fresh and everything!

"You are very well-preserved, Limbface." To the ghoul, Visolela sounded almost kind.