CYOA: Chapter Four - Cupid's Arrow

Last time, on CYOA as written by Creep at Creep the Prophet...

And now, the exciting conclusion in Chapter Four - Cupid's Arrow

Collapsing to her knees, Sylphine's shoulders heave as she buries her face in her hands. To Corrigan, it appears as though she is weeping, though he is cautious as he approaches her. What if this Death Knight is merely ticking him? Can she really be resisting the call of the scourge? Of the Lich King himself? Could she really be his Sylphine again?

As if in response to his unspoken questions, Sylphine lifts her head and stares at Corrigan with dry, cold orbs of fire where once were beautiful eyes. Corrigan's head is awash in emotion as he stares back at his beloved, the one he had failed to save.

"Sylphine," he moans, reaching out to her, willing her to be the woman he loves. "Sylphine."

"Corrigan?" she replies uncertainly, but then both recoil at the unnatural, tinny sound of her voice.

To each, it is a poignant reminder that Sylphine is no longer the woman she once was. Shame fills Sylphine's thoughts and she buries her face in her hands again, shuddering as she tries to shake tears from her glowing eyes, tears than won't come. I can't even cry, she thinks, what else has the Lich King stolen from me. Surely Corrigan would not want a monster like me.

Regaining himself, Corrigan closes the distance between them and kneels down before her. Slowly, hesitantly he reaches out with his hand to caress her face. The coldness of her skin shocks him, and he fights the urge to flinch away. Cupping her chin, he raises her burning eyes to meet his own, trying in vain to find some trace in them of the woman he once adored.

The moment stretches out between them as Corrigan's spirits began to fall, guilt crashing back into the void left by his inability to protect what mattered most. In his hands, the personification of his failure stares back through inhuman eyes, burning his heart with the reality of his pain. In Corrigan's periphery, he catches a glimpse of ghouls closing in from either side, intent on finish the job their Death Knight could not. He searches for the will to fight, but comes up empty.

As his eyes begin to fall and the ghouls close in, the though of defeat and death's embrace begins to creep into his mind. What reason had he to prolong the inevitable? At least in death he might be reunited with his lost love, even if it means in the service of the Lich King. Sylphine's head droops to match his own, her lips pursing as she senses the futility of hope.

Her lips! The though is like a holy shock through Corrigan's brain, for the gesture is one he recalls from happier days. As he stares intently at her lips. He remembers! The curvature, the fullness. The heart never forgets a kiss. Her eyes may be foreign, but her lips are well known to him. Taking her head in his hands he pulls her face to his, pressing his own lips to hers with renewed vigor.

Although colder than he remembers, the familiar feeling unshackles his heart, sending it soaring with joy. This is his Sylphine, not lost, but found. A second chance. His hope becomes infectious as Sylphine finds her own cold heart warmed by his loving embrace. Pulling him closer, they huddle on the battlefield, remembering the love they once shared, protected by the bubble of Corrigan's renewed spirit even as the ghouls prepare to strike.

As they kiss, waves of light begin to radiate outwards from the Paladin, felling the ghouls that had been encroaching upon the two where the stand. Lifeless bones rain around the lovers as Corrigan finally withdraws from the kiss, looking at the new, yet familiar woman before him. They both stand, oblivious of the battle that rages around them.

"Commander," a cry resounds from across the field. Turning to look, the Corrigan spies Rondrey, the priest, atop a horse and riding swiftly in his direction. He points to Corrigan's right, indicating a lone Scourge archer with the Commander in his sights.

Even as he's watching, the archer looses an arrow aimed straight for Corrigan's heart. Reacting on instinct, Corrigan dodges to the right. A sickening, wet sound fills his ears as the arrow lodges itself in Sylphine's shoulder instead of hitting him. Her eyes widen as she stares at the arrow protruding from between plates of armor.

Letting loose a feral snarl, Corrigan turns and sends a bolt of white lighting towards the archer, catching it in the head and disintegrating it instantly, leaving behind a smoldering pile of dust. In a panic, he turns back to Sylphine to try and heal the wound. He will not fail again.

To his surprise, Sylphine is smiling at him. Grabbing the arrow with her right hand, she yanks the wooden shaft from her shoulder and a rune glows over her breast plate for a moment. Corrigan's jaw drops as he observes this strange new ability. Casually, Sylphine flicks the arrow aside and reaches down to pick up her discarded helm.

"It comes with the new body," she says, shrugging. Donning the helm, she retrieves her runed covered axe as Corrigan stands rooted in place, still dumbstruck.

Rondrey brings his steed to a skidding halt a few feet from the two, looking between them with one raised eyebrow. Shaking off his stupor, Corrigan reaches for his weapon and turns to face the priest.

"It seems we have some new allies," Corrigan points out.

Rondrey nods and replies, "Aye, a few of the others have turned and are moppin' up the remainin' forces in the village. It looks to be a victory, Commander."

A sudden, bloodcurdling screech startles them both. Whipping around Corrigan searches for the source of the noise. He watches as Sylphine lithely mounts a horrific steed that has just appeared at her side.

"You're not the only one who can summon a steed now, sweetheart," she says by way of explanation. "Quit gawking and lets go finish these bastards off."

Chuckling to himself, Corrigan summons his own steed and mounts up. Turning to Rondrey, he declares, "You heard the lady, to battle!"

"Ya know she sounds like she swallowed a tin can, right?" Rondrey points out in a hushed voice as they point their steeds towards the village. Corrigan glares at the cantankerous priest, glancing over at the women he loves.

"She may sound different, but that's her in there," he replies.

Sylphine looks at the two of them, rolling her burning blue eyes, "Can we go smash some heads now?"

"A slightly more violent her," Corrigan amends, smiling at his beloved.

"Aye," Rondrey says, shrugging.

With a couple heal clicks they each set their steeds off at a sprint towards the rising dust in the distance. The village is won shortly and news of the unbelievable victory begins to spread to neighboring towns, giving heart to defenders across the land. For the first time in a long while, the tides of battle seem to have swung away from the Lich King and in their favor.

At least for now...

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Create Your Own Azeroth: The Man In The Shield

Last time, on CYOA, as written by Samodean of Hardcore Casual: Click Here.

And now, as the saga continues to unfold:

Shaking his head, Corrigan reaches for his Shield. He surveys the front, catching his own disheveled reflection in the polished steel. Not liking what he sees there, he quickly throws his arm through the inner strap, slinging the shield over his right shoulder.

"What is a soldier of the light if not a shield for those in need?" he mumbles to himself in an effort to steel himself for what he knows is on the horizon.

Pushing back the flap of the tent, he exits into the bright sunlight, squinting as the rays assault his foggy brain. Surveying the walls of the hold around him, the Commander attempts to take a mental inventory of the situation.

Men, women, and children run frantically here and there about Corrigan as he stands rooted in place. The few soldiers that notice the Commander stop for a moment, looking at him expectantly before hustling away to continue whatever it was they were doing. The troops and citizens alike are very obviously at a loss for leadership, and Corrigan shakes his head again in disgust with himself.

The priest, Rondrey, appears at his side, having waited just outside the tent for Corrigan to prepare himself. He places his hand on Corrigan's arm and says simply, "As you can see, the men need you, Commander." He gestures vaguely towards the north.

A cloud of dust rises over the northwestern gate, and the sound of a struggle drifts from that direction, letting Corrigan know where the heat of the battle seems to be occurring. Even as he is watching, the wooden gate is beginning to deform against the onslaught. From experience, he knows it will only be moments before the scourge come pouring through the gate like a rotting river, come to claim more victims to bolster their grim ranks.

Looking up at the sky, he makes note that the sun is yet a few hours from its apex. Remembering what the old priest had told him, he fires back, "Rondrey, you fool, they will not be through in a few hours. They're coming NOW."

Even as he says this, a loud cracking noise resounds through the camp. Screams rise from the women as they cluster with their children. Savage roars burst from the throats of the men in response, their willingness to protect their loved ones driving them into a righteous rage.

Corrigan observes all this dispassionately, as he has seen it all before. He tries to find empathy in his cold heart, but finds only the dizziness of rum. Clearing his mind, he focuses on the task at hand. It is obvious the hold is to be overrun. What remains now is escape and taking as many people with him as he can. Disgustedly, he realizes he is not so much concerned with the lives of the people, rather he does not want to see the scourge force grow in number.

He decides now is the time for action. Sprinting forward, he quickly arrives before the gate, which has splintered down the middle. Valiantly, men fight in the breech, momentarily halting the forward progress of the enemy forces.

"Men," Corrigan bellows, "hold this front. Archers and scouts follow me, we shall evacuate the citizens. Once we are clear, make your retreat however you see fit. We shall rendezvous in three days time at the Temple." Perhaps the dragons will be of some assistance to us, he muses. "May the Light be with you!"

A pitifully small number of men break off from the defenders and follow Corrigan as he sprints towards the back of the hold where the women and children have gathered. Looking at the dishevelled townspeople in front of him, he feels his first pang of guilt at having let the situation deteriorate to this. Quickly, though, he pushes his self-loathing from his mind and makes a mental note of the number now under his protection.

"We are to make our way to the Temple," he announces. "Gather your belongings and prepare to move quickly. Take only what is necessary!"

As the citizens begin to group up, Corrigan directs half of the his troops to the rear and the other half to the front with him, sandwiching the citizens in between. Satisfied with the arrangement, he nods and turns to face Rondrey, who has been shadowing him at his side.

"Are you prepared, Priest," Corrigan asks.

"Sure, but the question remains: are you?" Rondrey fires back.

"Of course I am," Corrigan says, eyeing the Priest. "This isn't my first battle, Rondrey."

"Right, Commander," Rondrey says sarcastically, "then through which gate shall we make our timely escape. To the East, or to the South?"

YOU CONTROL THE FATE OF CORRIGAN AND THE TOWNSFOLK

If you choose East, the story continues here at Me and My Ghoul.

If you choose South, the story continues here at Circumspect Snug.

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