Thel Trek III: The Search for Sven

Cute and Quiet. Makes a lot of hand gestures, a bit like Yoda, but less green.

Topic/Postby Gergel » 17 Apr 2017, 17:18

Thel Trek III: The Search for Sven

The battle had been going on for hours. Now, finally, the uncountable rows of lesser demons were diminishing. Only a few large wrathguards stood between the assailants and their target, a huge doomguard called Melzihr. Thelarwen ducked between a demonic spear which was taller than she was, and a green fireball, pushed a demon aside and headed straight for the doomguard.

"Take it down!" roared the orcish commander of a small squad behind her. "We’ll deal with the stragglers!" With that, huge plate-clad orcs and tauren pushed against the remaining wrathguards.

A high female gnomish voice squeaked: "To your left!" and as Thelarwen dodged, a tower of fire erupted just next to her, in the middle of a swarm of imps and nether hounds. "Good to go!" the voice announced even as the death knight already bounded across corpses.

"Die, mortal scum!" roared Melzihr the doomguard.

"Been there. Done that." Thelarwen grunted and swung her sword against a descending demon hand. There was a huge roar as she chopped the arm off at the shoulder.

"You will rue the day you were bor... AAAARGH!" the doomguard screamed. His other arm fell on the blood-soaked ground with a splat.

He opened his mouth wide to breathe felfire at his opponent. He also tried to continue taunting. Unfortunately, these two actions proved troublesome to perform simultaneously. It sounded something like, "Ah ee ee-ough-uh uhh hou!" (which was rather far from the blood-chilling "I will devour your soul!" Melzihr had intended to roar). He then ended up having a terrible coughing fit.

Thelarwen wound up a mighty blow with her sword. Her sword slashed deep through the grievously wounded doomguard’s side. Melzihr doubled over and fell to his knees. The death knight kicked him in the chest. The demon toppled over on his back with a mighty thud.

"You have not seen the last of mighty Melzihr the Terrible!" he bellowed. "I cannot be killed! I will yet return!"

"Perhaps," Thelarwen said calmly. She stepped up to the dismembered demon and raised her sword high. "But until then... you are armless."

Suddenly there was silence on the battlefield.

Utter, complete silence.

A cricket chirped loudly.

Melzihr rolled his eyes.

An inexplicable sphere of tumbleweed rolled past slowly.

"Thel... Really..." said an old grizzled tauren and shook his head.

Thelarwen sighed. "Everyone is a critic." And then she stabbed the demon straight through its tainted heart.




A few days later the motley crew of various races dispersed in the outskirts of civilization. It had been okay for orcs and gnomes and tauren and humans and dwarves and trolls to fight side by side on the battlefield, but everyone thought it best to not draw too much attention and too many questions from their comrades at the camps.

Thelarwen and her Alliance-aligned companions walked into the fortification with blue banners on the walls. Some to tend to their wounds, others to rest and eat and resupply and clean themselves. The death knight had little need for any of it, but she was curious to hear any news from other teams. Especially the Gilnean one that contained Sven, her... boyfriend.

"Boyfriend." What a strange word. Relationships continued being awkward for the death knight. But it was fine. She could handle it. Being in Sven’s company had always been enjoyable. And it would be nice to see him again.

"OhmyLight, miss, didn’t you hear," a gossip-happy night elf exclaimed. "Sven Chambers and his squad was, like, for real captured by the Legion! That was, like, you know, weeks ago. Ohmylight, that was, like, totally terrible, they were dragged to this demon castle at, like, the Broken Shore and... like, lady, where are you running?"

Thelarwen was already gone. It would probably have taken hours to get any information out of that particular elf, but other Alliance personnel were more helpful. After a few interviews the death knight had an approximate direction and a time.




It had happened several weeks ago, she thought as her undead steed Jeff tirelessly carried her forth towards demonic fortifications. He might be dead. Tortured to insanity. Dismembered and left forever infirm. Seduced, pressed lovingly against the ample bosom of an eredar temptress and eternally bound to her in infatuation.

And she did not care. If he was alive, she would rescue him. If he was dead, she would avenge him. If he was pressed lovingly against the ample bosom of an eredar temptress... she would congratulate him on his latest conquest.

The death knight hefted her two-handed sword and hewed at demons as she passed. Her steed was well-trained and knew exactly where to turn, when to approach packs of demons, when to stay back, and when to kick a horned skull in. Thelarwen’s approach cut a green-blooded swath into the random groups of demons that manned the fortifications of a tall spiky emerald spire.

A quick glance told Thelarwen that she was on the right path. She recognized the insignia of Sven’s battalion on scraps of gear that were lying around here and there. The death knight’s single-minded charge left no one standing in her path. Even a massive stone double door at the bottom of the tall tower could not hinder her for more than a few moments. The slam of the door opening against side walls must have alerted everyone.

And that was fine. She could work with that. Thelarwen ran up a winding staircase of fel-stone.

The first groups of demons did not even realize what had hit them (Thelarwen’s sword).

The second wave, a few flights of stairs upwards, did realize what was hitting them (still Thelarwen’s sword). They attempted to fight back and failed miserably. The enraged death knight cut through their ranks like an obsidian arrowhead through the blubber of a fat murloc. Demon corpses tumbled down the stairs behind her and formed a natural blockade against anyone trying to chase her from behind.

An imp screamed "Yaaaaaaaaaagh!!!" and ran around waving its hands in utter terror. Thelarwen punted it out of a window. The scream dopplered off and, if it had been quiet, she would have heard a small splat in the end, where the imp landed in a huge pile of pit lord dung. It had survived, but wished that it hadn’t.

There was a succubus who attempted to use her whip to pull her sword from Thelarwen’s grasp. The death knight grabbed the tail of the whip and yanked the succubus to her instead, grabbed her by the throat completely ignoring a half-completed seduction spell, and snapped her neck.

After this, the following floors of demons knew far too well what hit them (at this point everyone should be fully aware that it was Thelarwen’s sword). Bigger ones forced smaller ones to attack the death knight. The smallest ones slipped through their ranks and attempted to flee upwards. Fire and arrows and swords and spears rained down upon Thelarwen, but her rage was unstoppable. At this point it was not even about Sven. She had seen bodies – and pieces of bodies – and nothing was stopping her anymore.

Blows glanced off the plates of her armour. Green fire splashed against a red shell of anti-magic. Demon blood covered her entirely. Instead of red-on-black, the death knight now had the appearance of green-on-different-green-on-dark-green.

Spears pushed her backwards. Arrows, mostly harmless against her plated armour, found their way through the seams in metal. Red mixed with green. But these wounds only enraged the death knight further. For her whole unlife she had been taught to embrace pain, use it and make it a part of her unstoppable advance.

Once the groups of commanding demons had fallen, the remaining stragglers fled in fear. A few pretended to be dead and hid among the corpses of their comrades. If Thelarwen noticed them, she made sure that the pretenders became that which they pretended to be. Some might have escaped, but that did not really matter.

She did not know how long her ascent had taken. Perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, perhaps days. The only thing that mattered was that in the end there was one last group of cowering demons in front of one last large door. They pounded on the door, clawing for a way in. As the death knight approached unstoppably, the demons made their final stand. The final stragglers turned and charged Thelarwen who was standing at the top of the stairwell. A dark, blood-drenched monstrosity. Demon entrails dragging behind her. Two icy-cold lights shining from the dark slit of her helm.

Thelarwen swung her sword. Demons fell in pieces.

A reverberating wham echoed through the tower. The final doors quaked. Another blow, and the hinges and locks bent. A third thud smashed them apart and the death knight stepped into a large room full of torture implements, bodies and cages full of captives. There were no demons inside.

"Princess! We are saved!" someone yelled. "Wait... Are we saved? What if she didn’t come to save us? What if she’s actually an evil demon? Eviler demon? The evilest demon?! What if she’s come to eat our souls? Oh no! My soul! I’m using that!"

The figure of the death knight was more terrifying than the demons she had cut through to get here. One glance across the room told her that these people were not Sven (nor mostly even human). She stomped past the tables and chains to the farthest, darkest cage.

A tall bovine figure stood up proudly. "Hey! You! Human! Yes, you, covered in demon sporch. I am Princess Poobah and I demand you set me free immediately!"

Thelarwen lifted her helm from her head. Even underneath it she was mostly covered in green goo. "Demand?"

"I and my faithful defenders defeated and escaped from the terrible ape king Mukla, survived the attacks of sea giants, pirates and vrykul, but in the end, as we were trying to sail to Tanaris–"

("Tanaris? Tanaris is located in a completely different direction.")

("That’s what I kept telling her!")

"–we were captured by these terrible demons. If I had not been grievously injured earlier–"

("She ate a spoiled banana.")

"–I could, of course, have easily destroyed them all, but in my severely weakened state they managed to overpower us after a long and glorious battle."

("She just vomited on one of them and then fell over.")

"And as a matter of fact, I was just right now about to break free from this cage and wreak untold havoc on these demons. Nevertheless, I thank you for your small assistance. Now get me out of here immediately."

The death knight ripped the padlock from the Princess’ cage. "Fine. You are free. Now tell me where Sven is."

"Uhhhh..." said Princess Poobah, momentarily confused. "What’s a Sven?"

Thelarwen sighed. This was clearly going sideways. "A member of the Gilnean brigade. Their insignia are strewn around this tower."

"I’ve never seen any... what did you call them? Gilneans," the tauren told her. "We are the only captives. I’m sure I would have totally rescued them if they had been here, though, just as soon as I broke out."

Thelarwen looked gloomy. While she had, indeed, managed to rescue a number of Azeroth’s citizens, she was not any closer to Sven. In the time she had wasted here, it was more and more probable that he would be injured or worse.

She would need to retrace her steps and pick up the trail again.

"Did you see any human or worgen captives, at least?" she urged. Poobah shook her head.

"Well, I’m sorry," said the Princess resolutely, "but your Sven is in another castle."
What kind of sick individual burns a book full of perfectly good dark arts?!
- Darkscryer Raastok
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Gergel
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