01-10-2017, 07:34 AM
Pathetic. Half of the assembled officers that had responded to his call had already turned tail and fled at the sound of his voice. What did they expect? To run around mindlessly, doing as they please, while assaulting a fortified town? That would be an excellent way to get slaughtered and have the entire scheme fall to pieces. Were those morons simply insane, bending to whatever whim passed through their hollow heads, rather than having any mental acuity? Especially that small human child. As soon as her commander made clear the terms of the engagement, she fled under pretence of protecting her forces. What in the Twisting Nether would she do with her forces otherwise? A tea party?
Illidan craned his head, taking in the peons of his army for their reactions. Most appeared unperturbed by the exodus; they knew who they served, and the absence of a handful of Primes wouldn't change that fact. The floating wraiths were bound by Cornelius' sorcery, tethered to his potent necromancy, though he knew they had been moulded with their original minds intact. He briefly pondered how the gaggle of human ghosts must be perceiving the night elven commander, if these humans had ever encountered one of his kind before. Still, they showed unwavering allegiance to Cornelius, and that was enough for Illidan.
Yet as the chaff blew uselessly into the winds of the Pale Moors, the wheat was revealed. Skeletor, the initially abrasive warlock, had remained. Even more pleasing, he lowered himself to one knee, holding his impressive staff, and declared loyalty. He attempted to drum up support for the night elf, rousing an affectation for Stormrage that he knew did not exist, and the result was largely expected. In any case, Illidan didn't begrudge the skull faced sorcerer for the effort; while brazen, it came from a respectful place. And Illidan himself was nothing if not brazen.
Skeletor then spoke what no doubt circulated through the minds of his troops - would the assault still go ahead as planned? Illidan already had an answer for that before the warlock had even formulated the question in his mind.
"Of course," Illidan's steely tone sprang from his violet lips. "The departure of two dilapidated skeletons and a human child are hardly cause to cancel a military campaign." He shot Skeletor the briefest of withering looks, as if to suggest the idea of such losses would affect their stride at all was a stupid one. Yet he kept it swift, since the question wasn't entirely invalid, and his declaration of fealty had pleased him. "The attack will continue as planned. However - " Stormrage cast his eyeless sight over the courtyard of Poenari Castle, quickly counting their forces - "we may need more recruits."
Not Primes - if no others had arrived, then it was likely there were no extra candidates on their way. Even if there were, the kaldorei doubted they would be of useful stock; only two of the five original Primes had kept their word to stay on. No, Primes didn't matter. Yet his knowledge of summoning objects and even living creatures with omnilium had stuck with him. The very evidence of its power prowled around the courtyard, its scaly muzzle sniffing at the cracked earth, black tentacles hunched as if staring directly at the ground. His felhunter had been brought to this wretched dimension through willpower and a slight exertion. It stood to reason that more could be coerced through the veil, though how many was unknown.
Would certain creatures take longer, take more effort to summon? Could he invite an army of demonic imps for the same cost as a Doomguard? Would a commander of his Illidari, like Prince Kael'thas or Lady Vashj, be even costlier? Too many unanswered questions for something so important.
Kerrigan followed Skeletor's lead, physically demonstrating her obedience to Illidan's command, though her movements were more measured and, dare he say, regal. This creature's mind was sharper than most; though it could just be flair and pompous self-aggrandisement, all of the carapaced human's actions so far indicated an intelligence testing the waters. She was aware of Stormrage's will, and while others may poke blindly at the bear simply because they don't like the way it roars, Kerrigan took a nuanced approach. Illidan appreciated that recognition, but also realised that she may be a greater danger than Darkshire if he let his guard down around her.
I miss the naga. When they prostrate, I know it's not ceremony.
As if desiring to confirm the night elf's suspicions, Kerrigan spoke and revealed if not her cunning, then at least her initiative. Illidan knew very few stupid pro-active people.
She proposed using subterfuge, thought not in those exact words. The demon hunter wondered what a terrifying insect-woman thought stealth meant, but as his vision trailed past her and to her predatory entourage, ideas swam in his mind. Claws wielded by her pets looked as if they'd blast through earth as easily as they would flesh, and the slack jawed humans, pulsating purple flesh clinging to their bodies like a throbbing network of cysts, may have once been settlers of Darkshire caught out on a ill-advised stroll.
"I am all for ideas, Kerrigan," Illidan said. "A victory with fewer casualties and hardships is always welcome."
Little did she know that the entire impetus of this assault was to empty Poenari Castle of Cornelius White and his collection of spirit friends. If Illidan was fortunate, the wraiths would perish in the ensuing battle, as would the jaded necromancer. If unfortunate, he'd have to cut the old fool down himself to dissipate the wraiths' ties to the Pale Moors. Either way, the outcome largely didn't matter to him, but crushing the only bastion of resistance to Count Dracula's regime would reflect favourably on him. Besides, Kerrigan and Skeletor may even become trusted allies in the dark days ahead. No sense burning bridges when there's nothing to gain from doing so.
"Let us hear your plans. If they involve the use of your mutated horrors, all the better." He took a moment to picture the sheer terror on the faces of the humans as those indentured monsters slithered towards them. Their intimidation factor alone secured Illidan's support for their use.
"Skeletor," he said, speaking to the faceless sorcerer. "Feel free to offer any advice you may have, also. War is not far away."
Illidan craned his head, taking in the peons of his army for their reactions. Most appeared unperturbed by the exodus; they knew who they served, and the absence of a handful of Primes wouldn't change that fact. The floating wraiths were bound by Cornelius' sorcery, tethered to his potent necromancy, though he knew they had been moulded with their original minds intact. He briefly pondered how the gaggle of human ghosts must be perceiving the night elven commander, if these humans had ever encountered one of his kind before. Still, they showed unwavering allegiance to Cornelius, and that was enough for Illidan.
Yet as the chaff blew uselessly into the winds of the Pale Moors, the wheat was revealed. Skeletor, the initially abrasive warlock, had remained. Even more pleasing, he lowered himself to one knee, holding his impressive staff, and declared loyalty. He attempted to drum up support for the night elf, rousing an affectation for Stormrage that he knew did not exist, and the result was largely expected. In any case, Illidan didn't begrudge the skull faced sorcerer for the effort; while brazen, it came from a respectful place. And Illidan himself was nothing if not brazen.
Skeletor then spoke what no doubt circulated through the minds of his troops - would the assault still go ahead as planned? Illidan already had an answer for that before the warlock had even formulated the question in his mind.
"Of course," Illidan's steely tone sprang from his violet lips. "The departure of two dilapidated skeletons and a human child are hardly cause to cancel a military campaign." He shot Skeletor the briefest of withering looks, as if to suggest the idea of such losses would affect their stride at all was a stupid one. Yet he kept it swift, since the question wasn't entirely invalid, and his declaration of fealty had pleased him. "The attack will continue as planned. However - " Stormrage cast his eyeless sight over the courtyard of Poenari Castle, quickly counting their forces - "we may need more recruits."
Not Primes - if no others had arrived, then it was likely there were no extra candidates on their way. Even if there were, the kaldorei doubted they would be of useful stock; only two of the five original Primes had kept their word to stay on. No, Primes didn't matter. Yet his knowledge of summoning objects and even living creatures with omnilium had stuck with him. The very evidence of its power prowled around the courtyard, its scaly muzzle sniffing at the cracked earth, black tentacles hunched as if staring directly at the ground. His felhunter had been brought to this wretched dimension through willpower and a slight exertion. It stood to reason that more could be coerced through the veil, though how many was unknown.
Would certain creatures take longer, take more effort to summon? Could he invite an army of demonic imps for the same cost as a Doomguard? Would a commander of his Illidari, like Prince Kael'thas or Lady Vashj, be even costlier? Too many unanswered questions for something so important.
Kerrigan followed Skeletor's lead, physically demonstrating her obedience to Illidan's command, though her movements were more measured and, dare he say, regal. This creature's mind was sharper than most; though it could just be flair and pompous self-aggrandisement, all of the carapaced human's actions so far indicated an intelligence testing the waters. She was aware of Stormrage's will, and while others may poke blindly at the bear simply because they don't like the way it roars, Kerrigan took a nuanced approach. Illidan appreciated that recognition, but also realised that she may be a greater danger than Darkshire if he let his guard down around her.
I miss the naga. When they prostrate, I know it's not ceremony.
As if desiring to confirm the night elf's suspicions, Kerrigan spoke and revealed if not her cunning, then at least her initiative. Illidan knew very few stupid pro-active people.
She proposed using subterfuge, thought not in those exact words. The demon hunter wondered what a terrifying insect-woman thought stealth meant, but as his vision trailed past her and to her predatory entourage, ideas swam in his mind. Claws wielded by her pets looked as if they'd blast through earth as easily as they would flesh, and the slack jawed humans, pulsating purple flesh clinging to their bodies like a throbbing network of cysts, may have once been settlers of Darkshire caught out on a ill-advised stroll.
"I am all for ideas, Kerrigan," Illidan said. "A victory with fewer casualties and hardships is always welcome."
Little did she know that the entire impetus of this assault was to empty Poenari Castle of Cornelius White and his collection of spirit friends. If Illidan was fortunate, the wraiths would perish in the ensuing battle, as would the jaded necromancer. If unfortunate, he'd have to cut the old fool down himself to dissipate the wraiths' ties to the Pale Moors. Either way, the outcome largely didn't matter to him, but crushing the only bastion of resistance to Count Dracula's regime would reflect favourably on him. Besides, Kerrigan and Skeletor may even become trusted allies in the dark days ahead. No sense burning bridges when there's nothing to gain from doing so.
"Let us hear your plans. If they involve the use of your mutated horrors, all the better." He took a moment to picture the sheer terror on the faces of the humans as those indentured monsters slithered towards them. Their intimidation factor alone secured Illidan's support for their use.
"Skeletor," he said, speaking to the faceless sorcerer. "Feel free to offer any advice you may have, also. War is not far away."
![[Image: illidansig2.jpg]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2017/07/07/illidansig2.jpg)