Friday, January 8, 2010

The Azerothian Walk Of Shame

Fulguralis looks down at the floor and kicks the hollowed out skull that lies there.  The mass of bone skitters across the floor before smacking loudly into three more just like it.  The sound of cracking bone fills the chamber and reverberates back on the adventurers standing in its midst.  The warlock grins even as his wife cringes beside him.

"Not a good time to lose one's head," Fulguralis interjects into the silence.

"Oh, don't get heady, JackHole," the pretty little Dwarven Priest next to him scoffs, elbowing him jauntily on her way up the ramp and out of the chamber.

"Good one," his Paladin wife snickers, following.

"Hey!" Fulguralis calls out, hurrying to catch up.  "Someone's got to revel in death in this Light-infested ménage we have going."

"Shut up and get ready for Lady Deathwhisper," A second Dwarf, another Paladin, pipes up.

"What's up with all the little people in this group?" Fulguralis points out.  "Am I right Mr. Rogue?"

The Rogue merely rolls his eyes and then fades into the scenery, obviously off to start more trouble.

Fulguralis calls after him, "Don't you go dying on my now, buddy! I don't want to be the only tall one left!"

The warlock grins.  For all his bluster, it feels really good to be with a group of adventurers again.  His sister had been having all the fun lately, what with reviving a legendary sword and all.  She had really been growing into her power, and he was surprised to find a tinge of pride amongst his usually self-centered emotions.  A warlock could go soft with a lack of adventure.  Fulguralis pokes around in the bones, making sure there aren't any spoils missed. 

Yes, an assault on Icecrown was exactly what his sharded soul craved.  Besides, a warlock could never have too much death in his life.  Too much destruction?  Maybe, but never too much killing. 

Up the hill, the party of adventurers are greeted with yet another room filled with menacing monsters.  The Rogue, of course, is already sneaking around inside when Fulguralis arrives.  He quietly unsheathes the new blade he'd found buried in the corpse in the last room and throws a quick magical enchantment on the blade to strengthen it.  A large Lich dominates the rear of the room before him, her minions filling the empty space before her. 

With a cacophony of clanking armor, his wife descends the steps, hurrying in case the Rogue were to accidentally step on a twig and reveal himself.  Closing in the monsters, she throws her shield at the group, catching their attention.  A flurry of activity follows as the adventurers quickly and efficiently dispose of the minions.  Facing the Lich, the Dwarven Priest begins to discuss strategy with the Animated Tree that stands just to her right.  Fuubaar stoops down to clean the black smears of off her shield, and the rest of the party lounges around in a similar manner, preparing themselves for a struggle against the Lich. 

Lady Deathwhisper, Fulguralis recalls her name, though he cannot for the life of him figure out how to tell a Lady Lich from a Mister Lich, something about the pelvic bones... but who wanted to go there?  They all looked this-side-of-the-grave to him anyways, and really, they just needed to be put on that side of the grave.  Who really wanted to be King of such a motley crue?  Or was that spelled crew?  The warlock was no scribe.

A strategy had apparently been decided on as the stout, Dwarven Paladin walks up and swings a large hammer towards the Lich.  It bounces harmlessly off of a now-revealed, glowing blue force field, eliciting a groan from Fulguralis.  So she wasn't going to make this easy.  Hefting his sword, the warlock grins as more minions began to spill from the sides of the room.  Bring it!

*     *     *

Fulguralis views the now calm battlefield.  The lich, having been dispatched by the narrowest of margins, leaves quite an impressive bounty for the adventurers to divide amongst themselves.  A few of the party are reclining over near the Priest, resting after a short stay in the spirit realm.  The rest of the party pokes around the room, looking for anything missed.

After several minutes of searching, Fulguralis decides to take a ride on the large, vertically moving platform in the room to see where it leads.  Riding up with him, his wife sighs contentedly, clearly reminiscing about their recent struggle with the Lich.  There are fights that are satisfying even to servants of the Light, and the near brush with the spirit realm they'd both just escaped was one of those.  They had been so close to losing the entire party, but the Lich bitch had fallen just in the nick of time.

Atop the lift, Fulguralis is greeted with the sight of a battle raging on in his absence.  Horde and Alliance members alike trade spells and cross sword before his eyes.  Apparently, the airships of each faction have made a simultaneous drop off and, for some reason, a fight had started.  One of the obsequious Elves probably called one of the female Tauren a beefy cow thinking it was a compliment, or maybe the proud Dwarf had poked fun of the male Blood Elf's ostentatious make-up.  Who knows what starts these things?  Point is, they happen, and Fulguralis wasn't about to miss out on the opportunity to watch a good fight.

Sidling up to the struggle, he reaches down into his magical backpack, seeking out some popcorn.  Finding none, he spots the Alliance Airship a small ways off in the distance.  Surely they'd have a vendor.  The warlock begins to head towards the ship with a snack purchase in mind.  Suddenly, a particularly viscous spell smacks him in the back.  Whirling around, he finds himself face to face with at least a dozen Horde.    
"Whoa guys.  I'm just here for the..." the Warlock begins, holding up his hands.  But he never finishes.  A hailstorm of attacks are launched towards him and the next thing he knows, Azeroth looks strangely devoid of color. 

"Well this is just great," he mumbles to himself in the realm of spirits.  "I guess I won't be doing that again.  Maybe that wife of mine will make herself useful and rez me."

"I heard that!" A voice wafts from seemingly thin air.  A few moments pass and the warlock is not returned to health. 

Man, she really takes this 'till death do us part thing seriously, Fulguralis thinks to himself.  Reluctantly, he begins the long walk of shame back to his body.