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 Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:28 pm
 There was little point in dwelling over memories so murky and so useless. The irritating flashes of brighter times, of emotion that he recognized, but could no longer grasp and feel for himself had been pushed away from his mind, and he had been left with nothing but the unfamiliar face that had stared back at him. Arthas. That had been a name once, but it was now a meager bit of information that served no useful purpose. So had the knowledge that, in the lands that he had awoken from the darkness, he had been royalty once. And, after staring at his frozen, empty eyes, the tattered wings that should be useless but chose to function despite all reason, he had willingly abandoned that title, and stepped away from the place that he had once called home.
He could remember nothing more. That was enough to make it insignificant.
Days had gone by with only the howling wind as a constant companion. Temperature and time no longer mattered; he shifted through scorching deserts and pleasant fields, and all he could feel was the chill of death on his skin. When he grew weary, he would pause to rest, never lingering long enough to make contact with unfamiliar faces. His travels had no end, but he had time to let his mind drift as he soared soundlessly through the skies.
All this. All of this land, all of the beauty filled within it. He saw nothing. Conquest, perhaps. Challenge, perhaps. Dominion, and ruin that he could cause once he was in control? A certainty. Again, that was enough.
There was no rhyme or reason to the location he finally chose as his descending point, little more than a great, black shadow streaking across the pale moon's light. A great flap of rotten leather, the sound of armor rattling and pressing into the earth, and the creature was still. His wings still hung half open, and though the rest of him was lost in the night, only his eyes glowed with a dormant hunger as he studied the world around him. Patience. He had enough of that, felt it as clearly as the ice that crackled across the ebony sheen of his plate mail. A flick of his tails led to an irritated rustle of his torn and tattered cape, and he loomed with slightly hunched shoulders.
Only the gleam of his eyes and the strange silhouette the moon morphed from his form would signal he was there. He had no reason to hide from whoever dwelled in this place.
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Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2009 11:15 pm
 The night had fallen, and all good little girls and boys retreated to their homes and their dreams. Warm, cozy beds and the sweet thoughts of a new dawn, the possibilities it would bring them. No matter what it may be, they would sleep eventually, having no dominion over the dark. The night was for the restless and the wicked.
He watched the light fall away with dull, unreflecting eyes, hungry. He would follow the shadows out of the deep woods, having not made it home that previous evening. There was work for the Skarecrow to do, even if he built his agenda as loosely as a man building a house on the sand. Subject to change with the tides, and sink under pressure. It was really the drive that mattered. His wings were tattered and dirty, and yet the wretch spread them and took to the air anyway. No matter their creaking, they would bare his meager form as he made his nightly rounds. Somewhere out there, someone would be getting home late, or trying to be brave. And he'd be there to swoop in like a valkyrie, or more appropriately, a buzzard, scavenging what he could from the fear or surprise he could instill. It was becoming a little more dangerous to sneak into homes these days, but sometimes it was so desperate he had to. Flesh did not sit pleasantly in the stomach of the deceased, and was more cumbersome to him than filling.
His senses were highly tuned as he idly coasted along on the currents of air, eyes scanning the ground for mischief or food. Mostly food. And then something big moved upon the nearest knoll, exciting his attention if only for curiosity. The poor excuse for wings were a show of rot to rival even his own, their skeletal frame faintly detailed in his superior vision. And the Skarecrow hesitated, for his initial thought was selfish and instinctual. It didn't look like something that would be a good victim. Then again, things seemed to be looking scarce tonight and... He was also quite suspicious of what could be considered 'competition'. He'd yet to see another of his creed, a fear-eater, but that didn't mean no more existed! He knew they did! With a tip of his wing, he steered over for a better look. His mind wasn't made up yet.
Pale specimen of a kitsu, if his sight didn't fail him. Clad in armor, something Skarecrow recognized but had not seen since his coming here, to this place. The sudden spark of blue struck him when it came, an unknown shudder rattling his frame. There was something strangely alluring to the stranger that had his curiosity piqued now. And idle-brained Skarecrow, sometimes he just got tired of thinking of consequences. When you were dead, you didn't have much to lose. Things could only get more interesting when the alternative was rotting. Pulling his wings up, the nightmare descended, feeling as if every foot drew him closer to something that even he, perhaps, might be quelled by. It was an interesting concept.
"Well, well, who is this?" He implored as he hit the ground on the slope of the hill behind the Lich King, and submitted to the stitches that encouraged his maw to grin. "Tin to this place? Tut, sir, tut. My, but you're a pretty one, hm? Don't you have company to keep you this late? You must be new!"
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Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2009 11:38 pm
It was impossible to tell that his eyes had slid to their corners at the messy sound of feathers and flesh, searching, perhaps, for curiosity's sake, but not feeling inclined to even glance over his shoulder for the source of the ruckus. But a low, snaking hiss would answer the cheerful words that reached him, a moan of the earth before it froze. Ice pooled from his otherwise lifeless form, crackling as it hunted for tender paws to bind in place. Perhaps a threat, like the telltale rattle of a snake about to strike--or maybe only a display.
"New to this place." He would agree in a cold, flat tone that seemed to echo as it rumbled through his armored chest. A shift of his wings in the now-frigid air, and there was the slow sound of ice crunching beneath his steel plated paws. Now he was at least paying the courtesy of staring at the creature from over his shoulder, hair spilling over half his face though it wasn't enough to blot out the inhumane glow of those eyes.
Stitches and molting wings, eyes that gleamed under a mat of straw-like hair... A night-terror, perhaps. It was dismissed as much, and he slowly turned his head away to again stare out at the night-blanketed lands. "What matter of place is this?" He questioned tonelessly. In truth, that mattered little as well. There were things to do in this little world... He merely needed to wait until opportunity cast itself in his direction.
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2009 11:44 am
Skarecrow looked down as he heard a crackle from the grass ahead, and felt a waft of cold air hit his face. Ice? It looked quite black with the as it branched outward from the other, slick looking in even the barest light. Without really thinking, he was moving just enough to avoid its circumference, his eyes narrowing somewhat with amusement. It was clear that the other kitsu was the source for the sudden change, and even someone like Skarecrow could take a hint. Not a real friendly boy, was he? He began to chortle a little, until the other turned to look at him. That gaze made the sound die off in his throat, jaws parted ever so slightly still.
"This? Why, a matter of green and growth and life. One might even call it nice." He mused, stalking slowly around the ice. He wasn't so keen on touching it yet, lest it prove to be more than it seemed or otherwise something he wasn't ready to get involved it. "In the night, mayhaps no better than a shade. But tender is the night, yes? Never been to a patch of spring, Mister Frosty? Just what sort of place do you spring from?"
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2009 2:03 pm
Life. Strange how it was that word that made the mist seep just a little more thickly from his eyes, smoldering thoughtfully. The ice halted in its mindless encroach, heedlessly obeying the silent, soundless order it had been given. "A place of ice and frozen winds..." A fitting place for his attire and pale skin... but no longer. He would know no more limits, no more boundaries. The male would remain silent for several minutes as he allowed his mind to stretch, ignoring his present company for now.
So this little nightstalker had been the first to witness his arrival... How many more? Enough for him to slowly accumulate more and more whom would serve him, let his influence seep through the naive cracks of this life... There would be time to eliminate the opposition, to spread his rule. But then what?
There was time to decide.
"Would you be one to think of it as merely nice? Or do you long for something more?" He intoned, still staring as though he'd merely posed the question to himself, rather than the scavenger lurking at his flanks. This, in the very least, could prove interesting...
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2009 8:16 pm
"Hmm! You don't say." Because that would make sense, wouldn't it? He would finally come to a creaking, awkward squat on the slope of the hill before the larger male, his wings fanning at his sides slowly. He tilted his head to peer up at Arthas even as he pondered, willing to just be able to get a good look at this foreboding figure. But then he began to twitch. A faint tremor of his lips and his ears at first, but then his tails were beginning to twist to and fro. He was about to just spout whatever came off the top of his mind when Arthas spoke again.
And surprised the Skarecrow yet again. The corpse blinked his wide eyes once as he registered the question, taken off guard. No one ever asked Skarecrow what he wanted. The expression, however, did not last long, splitting into the wide and manic grin of a madman. "What makes you think I think at all?" He implored, and it was rhetorical, at least judging by the way he prattled right on. "When you're no longer challenged by life's sticky paws, you don't have a whole lot more to complain about! No, being dead among the living is far too much fun to bother thinking, especially not about things that can only bother the living. And poor Skarecrow, he doesn't have much of a brain left to work with anyway..."
His wings gave a cheerful little ruffle as he craned his neck forward, eyes on Arthas the entire time. The breath he took through his nose was audible, and those red eyes closed to slits as the creature seemed to confirm something he already knew. "I can smell the death that clings to you like the frost, my dear tin soldier." He purred with strangled lilt, sitting back up again. "Come to find your rest here?"
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2009 9:34 pm
"Hm."
And that, it seemed, would be it. For all of the nightcrawler's chattiness, Arthas made up for it with a frozen sort of silence, not even his ears twitching to show that he was at least trying to pay attention. So. the creature was indeed dead. The stitches had told him as much, as did the rank smell... But it was still useful knowledge. Regardlessly, the prattling fool had likely revealed more than he knew. He had use for one who viewed the world in such a way, and the air hissed as an unexpected chill settled over it, coating them both.
"No." He would only say for a long while, a thoughtful look hidden behind those bright eyes. "But to give rest to all the rest. Already, this living world does not suit my tastes. ...I'd rather it be filled with death. To be ruled, dominated, and to do with as I please." No, he had no fear of admitting to one what would soon be known by all.
"What say you of that?" And he almost sounded amused, though his expression ceased to change. Would he be revolted? Horrified? Or pleased in a sick sort of way? No, he could tell that the creature's mind was scattered, and the response truly did not matter. Curiosity, it seemed, had not fully died with the rest of his emotions.
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2009 11:26 pm
"Like a freshman pulling at a panty girdle. Kyahahahaha!" Oh, he was that sort, was he? The stitched kitsu was looking genuinely amused now beneath his forced grin. "You are an ambitious boy, not even knowing what a manner of beasties you'll have to burden! Hee hee..."
He neither minded nor feared the chill. He made it clear by standing now and stepping forward onto the ice, eyes beginning to burn dully in his head. "I say, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride~ Pretty talk for a pretty face, but who is it that thinks they can be the true harbinger of the feat many more have attempted? And ARE attempting? I say, you may need to take a number!"
Insanity was clear by the blatant disregard by his well being. Skarecrow didn't know who it was he was dealing with, and his methods for finding out went far beyond playing twenty questions. The sweet smell of formaldehyde made itself much more apparent as he took a few more bold steps along the icey slope, heedless to how it pulled at the pads of his paws, welcoming the pain instead.
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2009 11:44 pm
If there was one thing that the unshakable male did not tolerate, it was disrespect. Slowly, he shifted his jaw so that the rotting creature was in his sights once more, watching expressionlessly as the first fearless steps were taken across his element. "A number?" The inquiry was soft, but suddenly quite deadly. What happened next was almost too quick to follow, the ice itself snaking up those pale, stitched forelimbs to bind fast, threatening to shatter the now-brittle flesh and reach the marrow itself.
Arthas had gotten to his feet, wings slowly flaring with an eerie groan of protest that went unanswered through the night. "You think you're spared from eternal slumber by claiming death as your own...? I can break even you--and perhaps your true corpse can be sent to these feeble forces as a warning."
The cold gripped those stitches first, tightening in preparation to snap the flimsy strings and leave the other nothing more than a pile of parts. "You will be the first, then... Wise enough. I doubt anyone will ever remember you."
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2009 12:14 am
The ice bit up his legs, and Skarecrow did absolutely nothing to stop it, his head tilting back with the barest hiss. Fast- too fast. First pain, then numbness, then nothing. His eyes rolled slightly in his head before he shook it, refocusing on the other as he lurched closer. Even as the other threatened him, there was a smile upon his lips, and perhaps a faint tremble in his wings. Unseen in the dark, pupils contracted with the small thrill the danger offered him.
"Except that you know nothing of the forces you'll be dealing with, or even where to find them." He hiked a brow, even as he felt the pressure against the strings. "Quite the prodigal brute, hm? Kill the Skarecrow, inconvenience yourself!"
With that, his wings gave a hard flap, once, twice, and there was a disgusting crack. It wasn't just the ice, but his joints, and Skarecrow was tipping backwards... sans legs. As the torso went bouncing down the hill, he gave a crude crackle of laughter, a mess of feathers and flesh as he reached the bottom. And then he sat up, at least as well as he could on the nubs that offered not a single drop of blood for their sudden loss. A surprisingly pink tongue rolled across his lips as he peered up at Arthas from where he had fallen.
"Oh, give us back our legs now! We were only teasing, big boy~" He went crawling on the remainders of his limbs, wings stretching to hit the ground and actually haul him up some. "Don't give us such a cold shoulder. We can't just fall to pieces for every boy that thinks he can end the world, now can we?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2009 12:27 am
"Ah... but it is a challenge I will welcome. You serve no purpose for me." And a smile would slowly tug at his lips, never reaching those cold eyes even as the ice began to slowly crush the limbs it held captive. Skarecrow, it had called itself. A pleasure to meet you then, but now, your usefulness had passed. Before the action could complete itself, however, he watched motionlessly as the beast proceeded to rip off its own legs, a limbless torso that tumbled down the hill to shriek with mirth. Truly one of the undead... ah, but his interest had faded.
How well could it function with a skull crushed beyond recognition, he wondered? He stood still, a cold stare cast down at the pathetic sight. He would never get those limbs free so long as the ice held fast, and he knew it would be such a simple thing to walk away. "I have no need for disobedient fools." Whatever amusement had once lingered there was long gone.
"Speak, then. Save your worthless hide." And one back paw would unexpectedly thaw, limply rolling down the hill to smack against one of those tattered wings. Who said he couldn't bargain with the creature? If the information proved faulty, well... Death could permanently claim this one for good.
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2009 12:51 am
Fair enough. The creature's head lolled onto the grass for a moment, hefting himself only when the leg came along to awkwardly squirm over it. "I watch many things here. It gets so boring between meals." There was another nasty sound as the limb reconnected itself to the main body. Sure, it was on the wrong side back there, but it would do for now.
"I'm telling this because I think I might like you. You're mean~" He continued to lay upon the ground, even though he may able to struggle to sit up now. He liked it this way. "There are a bunch that are making quite a fuss lately. Call themselves the Horsemen. Pestilence, War, Famine, Death, a few more... From what I hear, War is the recruiter for the cause. Of course, there are more organizations out there, but my mind gets... fuzzy. Oh, my legs. Please give them back to me now, dear."
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2009 9:40 am
Masochistic streaks then, another sign of mental instability. Still, he could work around such a think, and his expression failed to change when the gruesome sound of reconnecting flesh made to reach his ears. "Horsemen..." His lips threatened to flicker, some vague memory attempting to tickle his mind before it gave up and faded. Curious.
He inclined his head a little, as though ready to graciously fulfill the demand... But only a single limb would tumble to its obnoxious owner. "You know their location? Their cause?" Two more questions. Two more legs to give back.
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2009 2:01 pm
The zombie gave a minor pout as only one limb hit him in the face. Arthas drove a hard bargain, that was for damn sure. But he couldn't say that he wasn't pleased. Just as he had never been asked about his own desires, he had not been treated in such a manner for quite some time now. Pausing before he reattached the limb, he would answer Arthas' questions.
"Their cause? Why, it's to bring the Apocalypse! The end of days. Has such a lore not reached your land?" The limb cinched itself back in place, stitches binding anew while Skare silently winced out the pain of the reconnection. "Whether they can do it... that's up for debate. We weren't that interested in them until you came along, so a location... No. Easy enough to find out, though, if you'll give me the time to look. Twist a few toes, perhaps, too. Hee hee."
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