99 Problems
Jan. 22nd, 2012 10:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kalenedralArdeth and Kalenedral, after Kal is told about the underground movement and meets Jinx.
- - - - -
"You called?" inquired Ardeth, from the doorway, in his usual elegant drawl, his low, deep voice dragging the words out as if he had all the time in the world.
He leaned heavily on his staff, but was on his feet today; Orgrimmar's dry heat clearly agreed with him much more than Dalaran's cool air. Kalenedral's ghoul had found him in the Valley of Wisdom, deep in meditation, on his preferred rock under the great waterfall. That he himself had no apartments here was quite usual for hiim: he resided at the Legerdemain Lounge in Dalaran, a borrowed room in Sunfury Spire, the inn at the Scryers' quarter, and a small grassy spot near his favorite rock in Orgrimmar. All that he owned, he carried with him.
And it had taken some time, but he had ceased to obliterate ghouls who popped out of nowhere. Kal's had their own particular energy, and if Ardeth had never become precisely comfortable with the Death Knight's lesser servants, he at least no longer mistook them as an immediate threat.
If the runes of an incredibly skilled Death Knight could trap souls, by the dozen, no less, then they could certainly trap sound as well. This probably wasn't the first time he'd done as such, and it would hardly be the last.
Ardeth simply closed the door behind him. "Speak, then." It wasn't the first time that they'd conversed so; it would undoubtedly not be the last.
"You imagine incorrectly," sniffed Ardeth. "It's Holy priests who like them to a disconcerting degree, not I."
He folded his narrow form down into the proffered chair, and rested his staff against its back. "Tell me everything, of course... Oh, I got your map, by the way. Would you like a new shirt?"
"She seems cooperative, if a bit unstable," Kalenedral continued, "I was quite blunt about our intentions, of course. And she knew that my associate is a priest who floats, so clearly our involvement with the Institute put us both on her radar before the reverse was also true."
"That's to have been expected," Ardeth replied comfortably. "If she's as much of a thorn in their side as they say, she's known about us for some time. But... neither she nor Frostglare attacked each other?"
"They only spoke," the smith replied, with a long-suffering sigh, "and bickered. All three of them. Frostglare's female companion stopped him several times, or perhaps he may have attacked. I could not say." It was hard to have a read on the guy when he'd actually met him only once.
"Although in my experience, stepping closer to the target is not how most mages fight..." Kalenedral added thoughtfully, "so, I am really not certain. Perhaps he wished to goad her into doing so instead, in front of me. It would not be surprising."
"Girlfriend, Kalenedral. She's his girlfriend. And it all seems very..." verrrryyyy, Ardeth really said, sounding it out like a velvety sigh, "Histrionic. Did she agree to your terms?"
Ardeth didn't rise to any implied bait. "Good. But these aren't secrets worthy of runed doors and walls and my aching bones." Why was it always cold? "What did you really," and the word drew itself out like a silken skein 'round Kalenedral's long ears, "Call me over here for?"
His gloved fingers found, and began to meticulously roll, bloodthistle leaves into a cigarette.
"I did say it was the less interesting development," Kalenedral replied quite mildly. "You have heard my anger over Koltira Deathweaver's abduction enough times, and I know that you are no more fond of Sylvanas than I am."
All were statements.
"Neither, apparently, is Frostglare," he added, "furthermore, he is apparently intending to dosomething about her, which is something my Highlord has been unable to do, pinned down in the spotlight by both factions as he is. And, he intends to do so without gutting the Forsaken race, which I know would concern you."
"Ah, then it wasn't a mistake to associate with this Institute after all. I was wondering if my instincts led us wrong." Ardeth lit the smoke with a snap of his fingers, and then took a long, deep drag.
"And I was wondering how many more secrets they had. So, then. Sedition, you said?" His inflections were completely neutral. This was a sore topic for many blood elves; but he himself, though an enforcer of the fragile peace, did not -- as Kalenedral knew -- precisely approve of what Sylvanas had done.
"He wished to know if I would assist him. I agreed. He wanted me to ask you as well, if I thought it safe." Which he apparently did. "I also thought of your nephew, who I know is also not fond of what has happened."
"Amadei's decisions are his own." Smoke lazily coiled its way toward the ceiling from the burning tip of Ardeth's cigarette. The scent would have been sharply intoxicating to someone susceptible to it, but Kalenedral was not.
"And I will assist you, so long as Quel'thalas' security isn't threatened. I don't think I can re-educate her myself, but I doubt that's what he has in mind. And so long as this is no fool's errand; I'm not quite certain of Frostglare's reliability, if he can't control himself around one inconvenient Goblin."
"We could always trot her around him on purpose," Kalenedral offered dryly, "to see if he snaps. But I think it would only make our job even more aggravating." And it really didn't need any help, there. "You may wish to speak to him about your... views on re-education. I believe it makes him a bit nervous."
"If he asks, I will." Ardeth rarely chased after anyone, let alone explain himself to a relative stranger. "Perhaps you could share with him your views upon the matter? You've far more servants than I've ever had." His faint smile was crooked and just a little sharp.
"Ghouls are different," Kalenedral shrugged, "if turned loose, they would plant living, screaming people into the ground and then eat their heads."
Why they would go to all that trouble, he couldn't say. But they would.
"A ghoul has also never possessed free will. You could argue, I suppose, that the flesh they are made from once belonged to a living, willful person... but there is absolutely no way to return them to that state. And," and yes, he was lecturing, like a scholar on a topic they had read everything on, "a more intelligent ghoul, like Limbface, would lose that intelligence over time if cut loose. If he did not simply fall apart without my will to sustain him."
"And this Jinx, turned loose, attempted to murder and assault others. And even my own people, turned loose, would tear my homeland apart with civil war, and doom us to extinction. You insist that Limbface is not substantially different than yourself or Frostglare or any undead, and yet you bind him to your will-- to preserve him? Protect him? For convenience? Rendering him truly dead would trouble you, wouldn't it?"
Ardeth sat very still, and his tone remained easy, but he could lecture, too. "You have your reasons, and they come down to practicality and sentimentality. So, too, must I consider these things every time I tamper with another being's will. But, since you don't choose death for Limbface -- real death, that is -- you can perhaps understand why I would do such a thing to someone, rather than kill them. I am no one's master, but I, too, am my brothers' keeper."
Kalenedral waved it off with a gesture. He did not force his ghoul to like him, but he did. That was enough for Kal. Given the choice, Limbface would likely not go anywhere, but unfortunately there was no way to give him that choice. Not really.
"I said that he was nervous about it. Not I. That is why he left it to me to either inform you, or not. You may save your lecture on priestly ethics for him, should he ever ask you. What your people do to one another, especially with so few of you left, is of no consequence to me." And he meant it. He was no more an elf in his own mind than he was a dwarf, and no one would convince him otherwise. He was a corpse of an elf long-dead, and that man's life had remained buried even if his bones had not.
And so their trouble wasn't truly his own.
"I agreed with him in her case because she is not his to control that way, nor yours, and should she step out of line while I am involved, it will be true death for her. She knows this, and it is her decision to behave... or not. She did seem to take the warning seriously."
"You give her the illusion of choice," Ardeth stated calmly, "To salve your conscience."
"It is no illusion at all," Kalenedral said simply, "And I am not her keeper, regardless. She is dead, but she is not Ebon Blade," and thus not one of his people. "She may swim -- and the dead do not fatigue -- and perhaps find land, or she may sink. It is entirely up to her. Our interjection only gave her more choice."
Ardeth didn't reply. Instead, he smoked.
"I will give you a copy of the list of people who know," Kalenedral said simply, and reached for parchment and pen. "As for Jinx, she confirmed that she is mostly here in Orgrimmar, although if she was avoiding us before... she probably will not now." Thus, easier to find if Ardeth wanted to talk to her.
"Thank you. Frostglare did not yet reveal to you his plans?" inquired Ardeth, as casually and pleasantly as if they'd been discussing the weather, or sports, or any other inconsequential thing.
"Nothing specific," Kalenedral shook his head, pushing the list over once it was done. His handwriting was quite good, which Ardeth knew, of course, but it would have likely surprised many others. "He spent much of the time we spoke in private either prodding me about Koltira, circling around behind me as though I would care, and dancing loops around his point. But so long as the Ebon Blade backs him, he has little to fear from me."
Kalenedral, like Limbface, would never know how to operate with true independence. He simply chose his master, now, and Highlord Darion Mograine was not a bad one to pick. Kal was quite aware of this, and perfectly fine with it. Death Knights were made to serve as much as to lead, after all, and he did not fight his nature.
Thankfully, they were made to serve one master. And so no one, not Ardeth or Frostglare or even Garrosh Hellscream, could ever hope to command him that way.
Fortunately for both of them, Ardeth had never shown any inclination to do so.
"He's a mage. Most of them overly complicate things... something which we elves somewhat taught them, but which humans," and he seemed to consider Frostglare one, despite his current condition, "'Improved' upon. Though at least they're not as bad as gnomes. You'd have to wait at least a week for an explanation, and probably end up having had to punch Deathwing in his left chinbolt whilst juggling fireballs for Ragnaros in order to steal some magical whirlygig as some inexplicable part of the plan."
Kalenedral might not have remembered his past, but Ardeth remembered his own former time in the Alliance -- and Dalaran -- quite well.
"Gnomish Death Knights seem to be more reasonable," Kal said, thinking of Darkrider Arly in particular, "perhaps death really does improve some people. I imagine they still squeak when hit, though."
Oh yes, he still found that funny.
"They do. You should try it sometime, it's quite cathartic." Ardeth's little flash of a smile was, for him, a brief white beam.
Kal snorted his amusement at that, and released the runes holding their conversation inside. The air immediately began to warm back up to the temperature it had been before.
"I will try it, sometime."
- - - - -
Kalenedral, in truth, 'lived' in several places. He had a small room somewhere in Dalaran, likely near the forge, but also an even smaller one in Orgrimmar, as well as a small cell in the Ebon Hold that was really little more than a closet to keep armor and weapons in. There were other places that he stayed at different times, such as when he would go to Feralas and stay with the Tauren there who didn't mind his odd company too much.
The room in Orgrimmar had been his for longer. Long enough, in fact, that he'd felt secure in etching runes into the ceiling, floor, and walls. It had no windows, which suited his needs just fine. Every square inch of wall was taken up by shelving, and a window would have been a waste of space in a room he rarely lingered in.
That was where he was now.
A message was sent out by ghoul, as Kal still preferred to do things without broadcasting it to the entire Institute. He sat down in one of the room's few chairs -- strong enough to hold him in his armor -- and eyeballed the assortment of bent and broken bits of armor on the worktable before him. One didn't need an anvil and forge at hand to sort out the scrap from the salvageable, after all."You called?" inquired Ardeth, from the doorway, in his usual elegant drawl, his low, deep voice dragging the words out as if he had all the time in the world.
He leaned heavily on his staff, but was on his feet today; Orgrimmar's dry heat clearly agreed with him much more than Dalaran's cool air. Kalenedral's ghoul had found him in the Valley of Wisdom, deep in meditation, on his preferred rock under the great waterfall. That he himself had no apartments here was quite usual for hiim: he resided at the Legerdemain Lounge in Dalaran, a borrowed room in Sunfury Spire, the inn at the Scryers' quarter, and a small grassy spot near his favorite rock in Orgrimmar. All that he owned, he carried with him.
And it had taken some time, but he had ceased to obliterate ghouls who popped out of nowhere. Kal's had their own particular energy, and if Ardeth had never become precisely comfortable with the Death Knight's lesser servants, he at least no longer mistook them as an immediate threat.
The shelves on the walls were loaded with shiny rocks, bars of metal, random books, and -- of course -- skulls. He was, after all, a Death Knight. The ocassional pair of gauntlets or helm was not abnormal in the chaotic mess, either.
"This would benefit from a closed -- and runed -- door," Kalenedral noted, "or I would have simply come to find you."
Ardeth simply closed the door behind him. "Speak, then." It wasn't the first time that they'd conversed so; it would undoubtedly not be the last.
The runes in the room didn't flare with light, or do anything so dramatic, but the air grew a little... stiller. Colder. Like the inside of a crypt.
"To start with the less interesting," Kalenedral set down the battered remains of a helmet, and kicked the other chair away from the table in case Ardeth wanted it. "I found Jinx. Or rather, I happened to be in the room with Frostglare when she showed up to trade insults and threats with him. And his, ah, female companion."
Further into the room, Limbface looked up from where he was toying with various shiny rocks. "Child-ren," he said gravely.
"Yes," Kal sighed, "like children. You would have had more enjoyment of it than I, I imagine."Further into the room, Limbface looked up from where he was toying with various shiny rocks. "Child-ren," he said gravely.
"You imagine incorrectly," sniffed Ardeth. "It's Holy priests who like them to a disconcerting degree, not I."
He folded his narrow form down into the proffered chair, and rested his staff against its back. "Tell me everything, of course... Oh, I got your map, by the way. Would you like a new shirt?"
Kal blinked at that bit about liking them, "I... what?" but he'd been around the living just long enough, by now, to at least sometimes tell when he didn't want to know something. "Never mind. I am sure it would just confuse me even more. What Holy priests do is best done well out of my presence, regardless."
He shrugged about the map, "It seemed appropriate to send it." And the bit about the shirt earned a raised eyebrow.
"That's to have been expected," Ardeth replied comfortably. "If she's as much of a thorn in their side as they say, she's known about us for some time. But... neither she nor Frostglare attacked each other?"
"They only spoke," the smith replied, with a long-suffering sigh, "and bickered. All three of them. Frostglare's female companion stopped him several times, or perhaps he may have attacked. I could not say." It was hard to have a read on the guy when he'd actually met him only once.
"Although in my experience, stepping closer to the target is not how most mages fight..." Kalenedral added thoughtfully, "so, I am really not certain. Perhaps he wished to goad her into doing so instead, in front of me. It would not be surprising."
"Girlfriend, Kalenedral. She's his girlfriend. And it all seems very..." verrrryyyy, Ardeth really said, sounding it out like a velvety sigh, "Histrionic. Did she agree to your terms?"
"Girlfriend," Kalenedral repeated the word, and gave a small shrug under his pauldrons. What did it matter? She was female, and was his companion. He supposed she might be Frostglare's friend, and yes, she was a girl.
So... basically the same thing, except it was one word instead of two.
"Yes, although again, I cannot be sure of her stability. She is undead, as we were told, although less... elegantly so than I," what with the heart thing, "but more than a forsaken. Her right eye and apparently her heart are mechanical. The eye, so far as I could tell, is inoperable as such. She informed me that the Light paralyzes her, which if true could be detrimental or useful, depending on how things go."
Whichever way that went, Ardeth would obviously be key. Kal could relate to her dead-ness, but he couldn't fling the Light around.
"Although," he had the thought, "if she is compatible with it, I could heal her myself if there was a need. That would make the Light merely useful."Ardeth didn't rise to any implied bait. "Good. But these aren't secrets worthy of runed doors and walls and my aching bones." Why was it always cold? "What did you really," and the word drew itself out like a silken skein 'round Kalenedral's long ears, "Call me over here for?"
His gloved fingers found, and began to meticulously roll, bloodthistle leaves into a cigarette.
"I did say it was the less interesting development," Kalenedral replied quite mildly. "You have heard my anger over Koltira Deathweaver's abduction enough times, and I know that you are no more fond of Sylvanas than I am."
All were statements.
"Neither, apparently, is Frostglare," he added, "furthermore, he is apparently intending to dosomething about her, which is something my Highlord has been unable to do, pinned down in the spotlight by both factions as he is. And, he intends to do so without gutting the Forsaken race, which I know would concern you."
"Ah, then it wasn't a mistake to associate with this Institute after all. I was wondering if my instincts led us wrong." Ardeth lit the smoke with a snap of his fingers, and then took a long, deep drag.
"And I was wondering how many more secrets they had. So, then. Sedition, you said?" His inflections were completely neutral. This was a sore topic for many blood elves; but he himself, though an enforcer of the fragile peace, did not -- as Kalenedral knew -- precisely approve of what Sylvanas had done.
Kalenedral snorted softly, "I am sure they have plenty more secrets. I am also sure that I don't care to know most of them. And of course, you know as well as I what would happen if she was merely assassinated. The Forsaken would go into a frenzy, and the Horde would cheerfully put them back into the dirt," he sighed, very quietly, "and speaking of histronics, Frostglare is apparently Ashenmind. I met both versions -- one or the other is a disguise, but I hardly know him well enough to tell you which one. At the very least, it means that he has a record already. Enough of one for the Ebon Blade to silently back him."
Which said clear as day to anyone who knew him, that Kal was backing him as well.
"Amadei's decisions are his own." Smoke lazily coiled its way toward the ceiling from the burning tip of Ardeth's cigarette. The scent would have been sharply intoxicating to someone susceptible to it, but Kalenedral was not.
"And I will assist you, so long as Quel'thalas' security isn't threatened. I don't think I can re-educate her myself, but I doubt that's what he has in mind. And so long as this is no fool's errand; I'm not quite certain of Frostglare's reliability, if he can't control himself around one inconvenient Goblin."
He could have been susceptible to it, but it would have taken deliberately allowing himself to be. He did not.
And just as well, that, because a Death Knight of the Unholy discipline who lost control of his mind... it did not bode well. He was to his ghouls what the Lich King had been to him, once. It was his control that kept them in line, though he was a much kinder Master to them than his had been.
"If he asks, I will." Ardeth rarely chased after anyone, let alone explain himself to a relative stranger. "Perhaps you could share with him your views upon the matter? You've far more servants than I've ever had." His faint smile was crooked and just a little sharp.
"Ghouls are different," Kalenedral shrugged, "if turned loose, they would plant living, screaming people into the ground and then eat their heads."
Why they would go to all that trouble, he couldn't say. But they would.
"A ghoul has also never possessed free will. You could argue, I suppose, that the flesh they are made from once belonged to a living, willful person... but there is absolutely no way to return them to that state. And," and yes, he was lecturing, like a scholar on a topic they had read everything on, "a more intelligent ghoul, like Limbface, would lose that intelligence over time if cut loose. If he did not simply fall apart without my will to sustain him."
"And this Jinx, turned loose, attempted to murder and assault others. And even my own people, turned loose, would tear my homeland apart with civil war, and doom us to extinction. You insist that Limbface is not substantially different than yourself or Frostglare or any undead, and yet you bind him to your will-- to preserve him? Protect him? For convenience? Rendering him truly dead would trouble you, wouldn't it?"
Ardeth sat very still, and his tone remained easy, but he could lecture, too. "You have your reasons, and they come down to practicality and sentimentality. So, too, must I consider these things every time I tamper with another being's will. But, since you don't choose death for Limbface -- real death, that is -- you can perhaps understand why I would do such a thing to someone, rather than kill them. I am no one's master, but I, too, am my brothers' keeper."
Kalenedral waved it off with a gesture. He did not force his ghoul to like him, but he did. That was enough for Kal. Given the choice, Limbface would likely not go anywhere, but unfortunately there was no way to give him that choice. Not really.
"I said that he was nervous about it. Not I. That is why he left it to me to either inform you, or not. You may save your lecture on priestly ethics for him, should he ever ask you. What your people do to one another, especially with so few of you left, is of no consequence to me." And he meant it. He was no more an elf in his own mind than he was a dwarf, and no one would convince him otherwise. He was a corpse of an elf long-dead, and that man's life had remained buried even if his bones had not.
And so their trouble wasn't truly his own.
"I agreed with him in her case because she is not his to control that way, nor yours, and should she step out of line while I am involved, it will be true death for her. She knows this, and it is her decision to behave... or not. She did seem to take the warning seriously."
"You give her the illusion of choice," Ardeth stated calmly, "To salve your conscience."
"It is no illusion at all," Kalenedral said simply, "And I am not her keeper, regardless. She is dead, but she is not Ebon Blade," and thus not one of his people. "She may swim -- and the dead do not fatigue -- and perhaps find land, or she may sink. It is entirely up to her. Our interjection only gave her more choice."
Ardeth didn't reply. Instead, he smoked.
"I will give you a copy of the list of people who know," Kalenedral said simply, and reached for parchment and pen. "As for Jinx, she confirmed that she is mostly here in Orgrimmar, although if she was avoiding us before... she probably will not now." Thus, easier to find if Ardeth wanted to talk to her.
"Thank you. Frostglare did not yet reveal to you his plans?" inquired Ardeth, as casually and pleasantly as if they'd been discussing the weather, or sports, or any other inconsequential thing.
"Nothing specific," Kalenedral shook his head, pushing the list over once it was done. His handwriting was quite good, which Ardeth knew, of course, but it would have likely surprised many others. "He spent much of the time we spoke in private either prodding me about Koltira, circling around behind me as though I would care, and dancing loops around his point. But so long as the Ebon Blade backs him, he has little to fear from me."
Kalenedral, like Limbface, would never know how to operate with true independence. He simply chose his master, now, and Highlord Darion Mograine was not a bad one to pick. Kal was quite aware of this, and perfectly fine with it. Death Knights were made to serve as much as to lead, after all, and he did not fight his nature.
Thankfully, they were made to serve one master. And so no one, not Ardeth or Frostglare or even Garrosh Hellscream, could ever hope to command him that way.
Fortunately for both of them, Ardeth had never shown any inclination to do so.
"He's a mage. Most of them overly complicate things... something which we elves somewhat taught them, but which humans," and he seemed to consider Frostglare one, despite his current condition, "'Improved' upon. Though at least they're not as bad as gnomes. You'd have to wait at least a week for an explanation, and probably end up having had to punch Deathwing in his left chinbolt whilst juggling fireballs for Ragnaros in order to steal some magical whirlygig as some inexplicable part of the plan."
Kalenedral might not have remembered his past, but Ardeth remembered his own former time in the Alliance -- and Dalaran -- quite well.
"Gnomish Death Knights seem to be more reasonable," Kal said, thinking of Darkrider Arly in particular, "perhaps death really does improve some people. I imagine they still squeak when hit, though."
Oh yes, he still found that funny.
"They do. You should try it sometime, it's quite cathartic." Ardeth's little flash of a smile was, for him, a brief white beam.
Kal snorted his amusement at that, and released the runes holding their conversation inside. The air immediately began to warm back up to the temperature it had been before.
"I will try it, sometime."
