Winds from the North, Return of the Lich King.

[Kelrav]

Kels fur stands on end as the Lich's shout echoes through the halls. He shakes Nazuni gently, trying to rouse her, before stepping back into the hallway, carrying the girl in his arms. He looks to Arasad, uncertain, then his attention snaps past the man and the other srvivors, to the menacing trio down the hall. :Mounted... great. Nevermind the huge guy. And we have what. One short sword.:

A cross between a growl and a whine forms in his throat as he bolts at a run for the group. He screams, letting his fury block out the pain as he forces himself to shift back into elven form. Every change was sapping his strength, but he'd need his halberd for this fight.

He stumbles the last few steps to the group, breathing heavily, ignoring any stares. "Take her!" he shouts in Thalassian, his tone demanding obediance despite his appearance, as he thrusts Nazuni into the arms of a Sin'dorei female. He didn't know what kind of magics the others might have access to, so he'd have to assume 'none' untill proven otherwise.

The knights had started to charge, Kel snarls, bolting the distance to the front of the ragged group, unclipping his polearm and holding it at the ready.

Common: "Grab reins! Control head, control horse, pull rider off!" It's all he can think of, a man alone was easier to fight than a mounted one, which would have height and reach to its advantage. Regardless, some of them were going to get hurt.

Kel stands in a battlestance, to the left of Arasad, allowing the other man full swing of his sword. Time slows as he watches the rider in front of him get closer. His focus narrows, nevermind the other charging figure. Nevermind the enormous man at the end of the hall, or the Lich, or anything else. He holds his weapon gripped in both hands, waiting, tensed. The mounted death knight grins, his own sword held ready to deflect any stabs and plow through the prisoners.

At the last second, Kel sidesteps, directly in front of the undead steed, giving the death knight no room to parry. He drops the butt end of the pole, bracing it with the instep of his back right foot, and leans down onto it, forcing it into the rotted stonework, angleing the pointed end towards the rider. His own feral grin forms, as he stares straight through the bones of the creatures neck, straight to the chest of the corrupted human.

The point of his spear slides along that same path, passing easily through the nonexistant body of the dead horse, and into the very existant body of the man riding it. The death knight screams as his own momentum impales him, his body slamming into the halberd, knocking him back off his mount.

A sudden realization snaps through Kel's mind and he swears as he uses the Light to shield himself, bubbleing agaisnt harm as the unaffected charging horse plows into him. He snatches at the reins, letting himself be dragged, using his body wieght to swing the mounts head around, halting its charge.

Kel lies on his back, deathgrip on the undead beasts reins. One of the prisoners is rushing up, grabbing the bridle, holding the creature still. It stands, complacent without someone on its back, telling it what to do. Even in death it seemed, some horses didn't change.

Kel twists his head, looking for the other Death Knight, scared to see how the others had fared agaisnt it. He isn't even certain if the one he killed is down for good, or just injured. He struggles to stand, panting heavily for air, as time speeds up to normal and chaos sounds around him.

[Arasad]

The black rider on the right was pushed off of his mount by the force of a determined blood knight and his weapon; a halberd. As the rider crashed to the floor the sound of armor cracking upon hardened ground echoed through the hall. Even still it's mount continued forward, where Kelrav shielded himself with a powerful burst of the Holy Light, and the animal calmed when a remaining survivor charged forward to retrain it. Arasad had watched the scene unfold with such a careful gaze that the second rider nearly won the fight by just swinging.

"Arasad!"

He did not know where the scream came from, or who it came from. It was not Kelrav, and it was not the drowsy and weak Nazuni. Jerek? But he was not in the hall. There was no time to think, apart from that the voice sounded familiar. He turned his gaze to the longest stretch of the hall, where the second rider reared back upon his mount and had his weapon in the air, preparing to strike down. Arasad rose the stolen blade to parry the death knight's determined blow, which shattered the weak short sword in one powerful strike. Arasad felt the vibration run down his arm, and heard the tallest of the knights laugh heartily from the end of the hallway.

The death knight brought his sword up once more, and then down; a vertical stab. Arasad dodged by sliding to his left, grasping the runed blade with his bare hands. He could feel the sting as the blade easily lacerated the flesh; but it did not matter. Things would hurt much more if the blade had pierced his chest, or heart. In that short amount of time he glanced back to the second death knight, whom was still lying upon the floor. It was dead for the second time. Kelrav had done his part of the job, and done it well. Quickly his attention was averted back to the runed blade. With a powerful pull he jerked the blade away from the black rider. Stunned, the rider reared back on his mount, who let a ghastly neigh.

With the blade in hand, he turned it against the rider - piercing him through the chest. He fell off of the mount, and the skeletal mare rode down the hallway, back and past the final death knight, who had his arms folded across his chest. Arasad stared him down, the hilt of the blade covered and warm with scarlet from the lacerations on his hands.

"Stand guard, fool! You will die with honor!"

[Mistress]

Jerek stared the lich down, he growled, baring his yellowed blunt teeth snarling at something the Undead man so despised. He cried out in pain then, a pulse escaped his arm again, a silvery blue light in follow. The Arcane Silver burned through his glove and he cupped the arm against his body, cradling the pain with care. Still with an unkown amount of favor towards the arm that shined with a bright light, the Warlock turned his dull yellow glow upon the lich once more before shadows engulfed his body, eating him up. The arcane silver pulsed once more, knocking those guarding him to the ground and that so detested lich back.

He screamed out agian, a gurgled pain that could pierce the icy halls of Naxxramas. Then the shadow engulfed him once more, eating his flesh as he disappered with his pain.

Nazuni awoke and jumped up, snarling as well. The arcane pulse filtered through the halls and she fell down once more with a squeak. Rubbing her head she looked around, trying to determine what was going on.

`Arasad ..? Kelrav ..?` the fox-girl muttered, tail twitching, unsure.

[Kelrav]

Kel exhales in relief as he watches Arasad dispatch the other rider. Two down it seemed, one to go, and now they had some more weapons. He gets to his feet, but a wash of arcane energy rocks him to lean agaisnt the skeleton steed. He looks around, trying to determine the source, it hadn't come from the remaining DeathKnight...

Naz's squeak causes him to turn and he flashes a smile towards the girl.

Orcish: "Glad to have you back, little one. Bit busy at the moment, unless you feel up to joining in." He glances over the others, snapping in common and orcish "Help if you can, heal, magic."

He spins back, eyeing Arasad and his challange to the giant human down the hall. Kel straightens, the remaining threat giving him another burst of strength, and he warily approches the rider he'd dismounted, grabbing his polearm and the dead mans sword.

He half considers charging in on the mare, but Arasad had made a direct taunt, and Kel would do his best to back the other man up. He stands ready, a feral grin lighting up his face.

((Read: Arasad go ahead and godmode Kel fighting/healing/nuking if you like, otherwise we'll be inputting on this for another two weeks -chuckles-))

[Arasad]

"Your taunts conflict against dead ears, death knight."

"What!? That's impossible, because I haven't killed you yet!"

The monster of a man took only four steps and he had covered nearly three quarters the distance between himself and Arasad. There was hardly any time for Arasad to bring the runeblade up from it's position against his side; hardly enough time to deflect the blow from the death knight's own nightmarish blade. Steel clashed against steel, creating a cascade of sparks that illuminated the hallway. Arasad felt his knees buckle from the strength of the blow. Whomever this death knight had been during his lifetime had to be powerful, for such a powerful strike couldn't be made powerful from just his undeath.

"Arasad... Kelrav..."

A quiet squeak in the hallway, echoing in Arasad's mind. The paladin turned his head right, lifted his gaze - if only for a moment - to see Nazuni picking herself up from the ground. Where had Kelrav gone? Why wasn't anyone helping her?

"ARGH!"

A mighty scream made Arasad turn his head back, loosely parrying another powerful blow from the dark knight. The paladin remained on his knees, sword held up by a weakening will. A will that was about to crumble at the hands of such darkness. The death knight's face came close to Arasad's own, for he was bending down at the waste to look upon the failing warrior. A grin spread across his pale features, blackened eyes lighting up if only for a moment.

"Do you not know who I am? How many I have killed?"

There was pressure on Arasad's blade as the death knight pushed down with his own sword. As a last resort, Arasad switched his left hand from the hilt of the runeblade to the actual blade - lacerating again into the flesh. He had become numb to the pain by now, of course. His expression did not change, nor did he cower in fear of the much more powerful knight.

"Can't... say... I do..." Arasad managed to mumble, breathing heavy. Attempting to defend against the pressure.

"Mocking me? Well, young paladin. I will enjoy killing you. And your friends. But take it as an honor to die by the hands and blade of the mighty Instructor of the Scourge. I have trained so many, and they have let blood run - oh, so much blood... in reality, it was I who killed the innocent. Because, of course, I trained them..."

Razuvois. That had to be the one, that had to be the death knight. Arasad had heard about him several years before his father died. The knights of Lordaeron talked about him often, speaking of how his ego would be his downfall. It turns out the man had died during the plague spread of Lordaeron, and at the hands of several undead. He was outmatched, but his ego made him think otherwise. He died only before witnessing his tragic mistake, falling to the blades of several powerful ghouls. Even in death it seemed he did not rid himself of such an ego.

Even if he was right about the training.

"You sense it, boy? The end draws near. Darkness. Silence. It will be quick, do not be afraid. You will- WHAT!?"

Arasad was surprised, and even winced as the man screamed. His face was only inches away, and he could smell Razuvois' rotting breath. The Instructor looked away from the crippled paladin, as if searching for something. Someone. And then Arasad understood why. Several inches below his neck-line, the only weak spot of his iced and black armor, two arrows had penetrated the thick plate mail. Someone had fired the arrows, someone had defended Arasad.

The knight snarled and pushed the paladin to the floor, forgetting about the kill that was at hand. He roared, a mighty scream that drained even Arasad of strength. It was only temporary, of course, but it was all the Instructor wanted - for he had found his target. A Night Elf huntress twenty yards away - she must have stopped fleeing with the survivors. In her hands was a skeletal bow, and she was armed to the teeth with steel arrows. Off of a guard? It didn't matter. Arasad then noticed the other refugees that had escaped from their cells whom had vowed to stay behind. A dwarf paladin armed with a large mace and rusty chain mail, a female human mage who leaned against a wooden staff and stood in torn robes. Even members of the Horde had stayed behind to fight - an Orc warlock's hands were alight with fire, and a female Tauren druid was shifting into the form of a large moonkin.

They were fighting for the same reason Arasad was. To bring an end to the finest of the Scourge. To cripple the mighty undead army, perhaps enough to bring an end or halt to the imminent invasion of Azeroth.

"Die!"

Razuvois was screaming, charging with his weapon raised - prepared to eliminate the Night Elf.... and then he was stopped in his tracks, a layer of ice formed and covered his boots. He was frozen to the ground, and the mage was laughing. He snarled, attempting to break free - but he could not.

"Wench!" He screamed, swinging madly. But his sword could not reach her.

And then the man was on fire, a powerful spell set by the warlock. A bolt of frost shattered into his chest, partially deflected by his own frozen armor. The ice at his feet melted away, and he turned, running towards the mage. A state of blind rage. He was angry, and someone had to die. Someone had to pay. But his charge, again, was halted as the dwarf paladin struck his left knee with his large mace. The Instructor fell face forward onto the ground, left boot destroyed by the momentum of his race and the blow from the dwarf's weapon. His own anger was causing him to lose control, he wasn't thinking about his training, or how he could have easily destroyed the small group.

His own conviction was going to be the death of him.

"ENOUGH!" He screamed, pushing himself from the floor and swinging down at the dwarf. The dwarf clearly hadn't expected it, for the parry from his mace would be far too late. Death seemed likely until a runeblade shot forward, parrying the blade of Razuvois. Arasad had stood and made his way to the fight, grinning as Razuvois' face turned to an expression of disgust.

"Wouldn't we look great dead?" Arasad asked happily. Shortly after he trusted forward, pushing the death knight back several steps.

"Fools! FOOLS! ALL OF YOU! ARGH!"

Two more arrows entered his back, piercing out the front of his chest. It wouldn't kill him, it didn't kill him. But it would, eventually. The flames about the man died away as a bolt of shadow, and another bolt of frost slammed into his chest. The paladin tossed another blow into his back with the mace, making the Instructor stumble forward. Arasad moved towards the death knight, swinging the runeblade downward. Razuvois parried the blow fairly easily, but was struck again by arrows, as well as a blast of fire. Arasad took to the offensive, striking quickly with the blade - a fight between opposing forces. Light and Dark.

And then the strike that brought Razuvois to his knees. Arasad was wounded from the battle, a lengthy scar across his chest. He bore no armor, so what the Instructor had done to him was painful. But it was not a mortal wound. Razuvois looked up, grinning.

"I cannot be redeemed."

"You can."

And Arasad brought the sword across Razuvois' throat, scarlet spilling onto the ground. The death knight lifted his hand to cover the laceration, still grinning. As he saw his reflection in the pool of blood, his head tilted slightly.

"An... honorable... death."

And he fell to the ground. Dead for the second time. Dead once and for all time.

"Arm yourselves with what you can. Whomever is willing, we march for Kel'thuzad."

[Mistress]

The shadows around the room started to thicken, darkness creeping around the small group. Drawing his sword, the Death Knight prepared for an onslaught. The shadows cackled and mocked him, wrapping around the sword and yanking it loose. It was a strange sight, to see darkness even more deadly than the Scourge let loose upon such a powerful group.

Jerek had lost his mind, completely unaware of his surroundings. Only to consume power, that was his goal. The arcane silver that blended with his soul and tapped into the void that was his power source, that is what caused this abomination of a warlock, a wraith that slid across the ground, featureless and ever moving. Pools of shadows formed randomly in the air, dripping down slow oily drops to fall into other pools below it.

Another mad cackle echoed all around them as the shadows crawled up the leg of the death knight and encircled him, pushing into his armor and coming out the other side with live wisps moving about.

Meanwhile, Nazuni had stood up and found herself a pair of daggers. She wiped the blades off on her leather shorts and looked around, ears back. The now completely dead Death Knight lay at the feet of Arasad, his wings missing she frowned slightly.

`What has happened .. ?` She mutteres lightly in gutterspeak.

[Kelrav]

Kel backsteps from where he's been standing ready, his eyes darting over the fight as it plays out. A grin forms as some of the other prisoners make thier own stand, putting aside racial diffrences for a common cause.

Nazuni is just behind him, picking herself up, scrounging a pair of weapons. Kel spares a glance back, but keeps his attentions forward, on the off chance the Instructor tries to rush the little fox girl in his blind rage.

Orcish: "You alright there, Miss? Did they hurt you at all? Do you know if Jerek is down here too?" His voice is quiet under the spells and attacks down the hallway, but his tone carries soft comfort and concern. He waits, watching in case any of the combatants are grievously injured, saving his energy for healing, but it doesn't come to that.

Razuvois falls, and Kel straightens, folding his arms with a proud nod. He looks curiously at Naz as she mutters something in the ugly Forsaken tongue, and shakes his head to show he didn't understand.

[Arasad]

"Razuvois has fallen."

"I know. But do not worry. The soldiers of Naxxramas have nothing to fear."

"Sir?"

"Send the handlers for Maexxna."

"My lord, she hasn't been fed in some time - she could turn on ou-"

In a tone mixed with anger and urgency, the death knight whipped his head around to glare upon the skeletal captain and snarl. "Who she turns upon does not matter to me. Nor my commander. More will be raised to take their place. And besides, it will work to our advantage."

There was only a nod in response from the skeleton, whom briskly saluted and then exited the small room. It was a balcony upon the side of the Citadel. Nightmare had nothing to be afraid of, in all honesty. He was well guarded. Kel'thuzad would eliminate the intruders quick enough. And even that was assuming that made it past the first terror of Naxxramas; something Nightmare himself wouldn't go near. An abomination in the eyes of its creator, of which the creature ate.

"Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet eating her curds and weigh..."

The death knight smiled.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Ach! Ev'n Ironforge ain't this cold! Not ev'n in the mornin's!"

"Silence. We don't want any more attention than we have already received."

Arasad was glad that the human mage had taken control of the situation. She was very smart, and judging from her tattered robes she had been a member of the Kirin Tor. With a background like that she had to be relatively powerful as well. A valuable asset to the group of refugees that had decided to stick together to bring down the citadel. Not only that, but she could make a dwarf shut his mouth. And that was very difficult.

"Did you hear that?"

The orc, who spoke in an oddly fluent common, came to a halt. The group had begun it's trek onward through the halls, and passed several dimly lit passages that were completely empty. That within itself was odd - Naxxramas wasn't supposed to be easy. Everyone was on the edge; and the warlock made sure to point out every little detail that seemed wrong. Arasad didn't like him for it, but at the same time appreciated it, even if it was just a little drop in the pool of trust.

"Hear what?"

Silence. And then the orc whispered.

"That."

Arasad had heard it this time. A scuttle, determined steps upon the stone floor. But it wasn't the floor. It had echoed from somewhere else entirely. But where? Arasad scanned ahead of him closely, watching the shadows. There. Something moved. Arasad quickly held up his hand, a light shining from palm - illuminating the hallway. There was a ghoul in the far right corner, holding a chain. An enormous chain. It was bleeding from it's chest - where several large holes lay oozing a light green fluid.

"Elune... what is that?"

The huntress had stepped from the rear of the group, scanning the ghoul. Who, at this point, was whimpering. It was dying. But how?

And then Arasad felt something upon his raised hand. As he looked up he saw it. Twenty red eyes, glowing in the darkness of the ceiling. A hiss slithered from behind the eyes. And then he knew what it was.

A spider.

A giant spider. And it looked hungry.

[Mistress]

Crossing the front of her arms, daggers held at the ready, the young girl slipped into the darkness, appearing to disappear from everyone around her. Ears perked forward and tail tip twitching, her gold bangles made no sound as she stalked around the group and eyed the giant spider with a mezmerizing golden stare.

Uncrossing her arms she held those little sharp points at the ready and bared her fangs with no sound. Eyes turned upon Arasad as she peered through the darkness that surrouned her form.

Meanwhile Jerek toyed with the others, but he expanded, his shadowed chaos moving out through the halls, consuming everything into pure pools of oily darkness.

[Kelrav]

Kelrav can't help but grin at the appearance of the spider. It made him think of a friend that hated spiders, and he idlely wondered if he'd get out of this alive to tell the man. He shifts protectivly into a fighting stance, guarding the less armored fighters behind him.

"Go after leg joints, eyes" he suggests. The protective carapace of the monster should be open where the spider needed to bend. Easier to stab into, and if it couldn't move, it couldn't attack. If it couldn't see, it couldn't attack.

He slides closer, stabbing up with his halberd, but it's just a feint to get close enough for an attack of a diffrent kind. He lets go of the weapon with his left hand, throwing the arm towards the spiders head and speaking a few words. Holy judgement slams up into the beasts face, the rightous energy melting some of the eyes.

Maexxna screams, a harsh chittering wail, her front appendages scraping across her damaged face. Her forelimbs flail defensivly, the dangerously spiked and barbed legs lash towards Kel, knocking him back with a grunt against the other side of the hall. He gets up, laughing, shaking off the impact and waiting for the others to react.