“So…” Iliae shifted her gaze to her boots, her fingers fidgeting with the dangling rodent skull that hung from her dagger. “You feeling better?” She still didn’t look up, even as the looming shadow nodded his head.
“Aye, but I’d rather not be talkin’ about it girl.” Melathanore huffed out, his own boned claws wrapping around the hilts of his weapons. “Wanna go tear the dogs in Gilneas a new one?” He prodded her knee with his boot until Iliae finally snapped out of her own head.
“Light, yes.” She blurts out, pushing herself off of the bar counter before turning and facing Gravy, who had been watching the pair warily since their arrival to the Tail. “A bottle of Lightsworn’s finest, three of the Venom Brew, and a pork. Make it fast.” Reaching for her purse, her brow gave a rather violent twitch. “Mel…”
“If you wanted me to pay fer it, ya just had to say so…” He grumbles, producing her coin purse and tossing it to Gravy before turning his upper lips up into a smile.
After receiving their supply of booze and a decent meal for the living of the pair, the two set off for the zeppelin in silence, save for the occasional swearing from Mel when Illy nearly dropped a bottle of precious scotch. This continued well past the walk to Brill and the packing of the warhorses.
It wasn’t until they had passed the first Forsaken outpost that Mel finally sputtered out, purposely hitting Illy in the face with spittle, “Change yer damn tabard, show some respect. I swear, yer daft as a brick sometimes.” Reaching over to the packsaddle of her steed, he pulls out a bottle of Venom Brew and chomps off the glass surrounding the cork before spitting it out at a rather terrified looking goblin. “Runts.”
Rolling her eyes a bit, Illy pulled off to the side of the road, quickly discarding the deep blacks of the Ebonhawk for the royal purple of the Forsaken. Smoothing it out, she watches Mel as he guzzled down the remainder of the liquid. “Should I have bought more?” She snorts, wrapping her hand around the reigns again as she nudged the rotting creature forward.
Melathanore belches loudly in response, grinning again as Illy sneered in forced disgust, “Probably, from the looks of it, ye got enough to barely sate me, much less yer drunken self.” His head perked slightly as the Sepulcher came into sight, “Oi.” He whispers, his head tilting to the southwest as his hand went for a throwing dagger.
He had barely lifted it before an arrow whizzed past his nose and a yelp echoed through the trees. She smirked, a smug look overtaking her features for a moment before she leaped from the saddle and ran towards the noise. It wasn’t but three yards away a worgen was vehemently attempting to rip an arrow from it’s paw to release himself from a large pine.
Mel arrived shortly after, laughing a bit as Illy simply stood there and watched in clear amusement, “Stop playin’ with the damn thing, there are plenty more ye can get yer damn jollies off of.” Another laugh came as Illy’s ear flicked back a bit, “Think he’ll chew his arm off?”
“I was hoping so, I always wanted to see it happen.” She muttered dryly as she unsheathed her dagger and sliced it across the creature’s throat. After a bit of sputtering, it fell limp, supported only by the arrow. Wrapping her fingers around the shaft, Iliae gave a firm tug and ripped it out, revealing a rather gruesome amount of flesh and bark still latching onto the barbed bits. “Perhaps another time, though.” Plucking off a bit of muscle, she placed the arrow back in her quiver before heading back to the horses.
“Yer messed.” Mel tossed a punch at her shoulder, snorting as she cringed and stumbled a bit. After some deft footwork, she regained her balance and nudged him back, nearly causing him to go headlong into the hind quarters of his steed. “Watch it.” He growled.
She chuckled as she pulled herself into her own saddle, “My apologies.” She sneered, her heel sending the beast forward. Before long, the pair had reached the Forsaken Front. Moving their steeds to the side, Iliae watched as several footmen charged toward the swamps surrounding the Greymane Wall, from the looks of things, the Forsaken had the upper hand once again. Iliae pouted a bit at this, her eyes flickering over to the hunched form beside her, “Looks like there won’t be much for us.”
Mel scoffed at this, leaping out of his saddle and slapping his warhorse so it trotted off toward the stables, “Then you’ll just have to be keeping a keen eye.” He snatched another bottle of alcohol from the saddle bag as Iliae swung off her horse. “First to fifty? Or is that askin’ a bit much out of yer kind?” He bites down on the glass, this time causing the entire bottle to shatter. “Fer fuck’s sake…”
Iliae grins, moving around and taking another bottle out and uncorking it for him, “Make it a hundred, and a month’s drink to whoever meets that first.”
He snatched the bottle from her hand, and grinned wildly- an expression that would have scared the life out of most- before pouring the liquid down his throat. Finishing all but a fourth of it, he shoved it back into her hand. “Yer on.”
“Aye, but I’d rather not be talkin’ about it girl.” Melathanore huffed out, his own boned claws wrapping around the hilts of his weapons. “Wanna go tear the dogs in Gilneas a new one?” He prodded her knee with his boot until Iliae finally snapped out of her own head.
“Light, yes.” She blurts out, pushing herself off of the bar counter before turning and facing Gravy, who had been watching the pair warily since their arrival to the Tail. “A bottle of Lightsworn’s finest, three of the Venom Brew, and a pork. Make it fast.” Reaching for her purse, her brow gave a rather violent twitch. “Mel…”
“If you wanted me to pay fer it, ya just had to say so…” He grumbles, producing her coin purse and tossing it to Gravy before turning his upper lips up into a smile.
After receiving their supply of booze and a decent meal for the living of the pair, the two set off for the zeppelin in silence, save for the occasional swearing from Mel when Illy nearly dropped a bottle of precious scotch. This continued well past the walk to Brill and the packing of the warhorses.
It wasn’t until they had passed the first Forsaken outpost that Mel finally sputtered out, purposely hitting Illy in the face with spittle, “Change yer damn tabard, show some respect. I swear, yer daft as a brick sometimes.” Reaching over to the packsaddle of her steed, he pulls out a bottle of Venom Brew and chomps off the glass surrounding the cork before spitting it out at a rather terrified looking goblin. “Runts.”
Rolling her eyes a bit, Illy pulled off to the side of the road, quickly discarding the deep blacks of the Ebonhawk for the royal purple of the Forsaken. Smoothing it out, she watches Mel as he guzzled down the remainder of the liquid. “Should I have bought more?” She snorts, wrapping her hand around the reigns again as she nudged the rotting creature forward.
Melathanore belches loudly in response, grinning again as Illy sneered in forced disgust, “Probably, from the looks of it, ye got enough to barely sate me, much less yer drunken self.” His head perked slightly as the Sepulcher came into sight, “Oi.” He whispers, his head tilting to the southwest as his hand went for a throwing dagger.
He had barely lifted it before an arrow whizzed past his nose and a yelp echoed through the trees. She smirked, a smug look overtaking her features for a moment before she leaped from the saddle and ran towards the noise. It wasn’t but three yards away a worgen was vehemently attempting to rip an arrow from it’s paw to release himself from a large pine.
Mel arrived shortly after, laughing a bit as Illy simply stood there and watched in clear amusement, “Stop playin’ with the damn thing, there are plenty more ye can get yer damn jollies off of.” Another laugh came as Illy’s ear flicked back a bit, “Think he’ll chew his arm off?”
“I was hoping so, I always wanted to see it happen.” She muttered dryly as she unsheathed her dagger and sliced it across the creature’s throat. After a bit of sputtering, it fell limp, supported only by the arrow. Wrapping her fingers around the shaft, Iliae gave a firm tug and ripped it out, revealing a rather gruesome amount of flesh and bark still latching onto the barbed bits. “Perhaps another time, though.” Plucking off a bit of muscle, she placed the arrow back in her quiver before heading back to the horses.
“Yer messed.” Mel tossed a punch at her shoulder, snorting as she cringed and stumbled a bit. After some deft footwork, she regained her balance and nudged him back, nearly causing him to go headlong into the hind quarters of his steed. “Watch it.” He growled.
She chuckled as she pulled herself into her own saddle, “My apologies.” She sneered, her heel sending the beast forward. Before long, the pair had reached the Forsaken Front. Moving their steeds to the side, Iliae watched as several footmen charged toward the swamps surrounding the Greymane Wall, from the looks of things, the Forsaken had the upper hand once again. Iliae pouted a bit at this, her eyes flickering over to the hunched form beside her, “Looks like there won’t be much for us.”
Mel scoffed at this, leaping out of his saddle and slapping his warhorse so it trotted off toward the stables, “Then you’ll just have to be keeping a keen eye.” He snatched another bottle of alcohol from the saddle bag as Iliae swung off her horse. “First to fifty? Or is that askin’ a bit much out of yer kind?” He bites down on the glass, this time causing the entire bottle to shatter. “Fer fuck’s sake…”
Iliae grins, moving around and taking another bottle out and uncorking it for him, “Make it a hundred, and a month’s drink to whoever meets that first.”
He snatched the bottle from her hand, and grinned wildly- an expression that would have scared the life out of most- before pouring the liquid down his throat. Finishing all but a fourth of it, he shoved it back into her hand. “Yer on.”
____________________________________
“That was my kill!” Iliae shouted as the freshly made corpse lopped down on her, knocking her to the ground. Groaning, she attempted to roll it off of her to little avail. After a few tries, the body finally rolled off to the side.
“Yeah? Was that before or after the mutt nearly ripped yer throat out?” Mel grinned, giving the worgen a good kick before ripping his dagger from the creature’s neck. Wiping it off on his tabard, he placed it back on his belt before offering her a massive hand. “Looks like he took a nip out of ye anyhow.” His grin faltered slightly.
Grasping his hand, she ‘oomphed’ as he yanked her up. “Before.” She muttered, lifting her right arm to better examine the bite marks that had torn into her armor. A few trickles of blood had stained the rabbit fur, though this did not seem to concern her. Dropping her arm back to her side, she looked up at Mel with a furrowed brow, “Another second and I would have had him.”
“That ain’t the point, me dagger is what killed ‘im. Forty-seven.” He spat out before turning and headed off toward the trees.
Iliae snorted at this, muttering angrily as she picked up her bow and plucked another arrow from her quiver. Lifting it to eye level, she aimed for the worgen that Mel currently stalked. Releasing the bowstring, the arrow whirred through the air before going clean through the beast’s skull. “Fifty-one!” She shouted, grinning widely as Melathanore emerged from the shadows and gave her a look that could send her to her grave.
The exchange continued as the sun set, and soon, neither could spot the other- the only sign of their existence was the constant screaming of their current tally. By midnight, Iliae had found herself at seventy-four and Mel at eighty two. Occasionally, this would draw a dirty glare or curse from the more professional soldiers, who clearly scorned upon their battle being used as a competition of skill, but neither seemed too bothered by it. Melathanore took it in jest, while Iliae often snapped back or made a point spiting them at a later time.
“One more and you’ll be payin’ fer me drink!” Mel gloated as he slipped out from behind a tree. Around his neck hung ninety-nine freshly strung worgen fingers, a few looked human, and others a mix between the two. He leaned against the trunk as he watched Iliae rip an arrow out of her latest victim, and chuckled as she glared at him.
“That one makes ninety-eight for me, you haven’t won yet.” She stated flatly, already reaching for another arrow. Readying her bow, she took aim at an approaching worgen who had thought himself clever enough to attempt to sneak up on the pair. “And ninety-nine.” She stated as the arrow flew into the dog’s gut.
Mel turned around at this, scowling, “He ain’t even dead! Look at ‘im, he’s just starin’ at the thing like-” He was cut off as a small fireball blew from the arrow, sending gore flying at them both. “Yer demented.”
Iliae chuckled as she walked up beside him, smothering the bit of flaming fur that had lodged itself into Mel’s shoulders. “It’s one of the few I have left, and I figured poisoning him would take too long.” She lowered her hand, “You want to give up now, or suffer humiliation for the next four weeks?”
“Did one get ye in the head, girl? I ain’t losin’ this.” He grumbled out as he plucked a bit of leg meat off his jaw and tossed it in his mouth before looking around them. Chewing slowly his brow dipped in frustration; the options seemed few. It appeared that their prey had wised up enough to know better than go near the two psychotics.
Looping her arm through her bow, Iliae began to do the same, her ear flicking back and forth as she listened for any sign of life. “Don’t tell me we scared them away.”
“They’re dumb beasts, they’re just waitin’ for a decent opportunity.” He grumbled, his hand itching at his sword. He glanced at Iliae as she offered a nod in response, her muscles tensing as she turned. The forest itself seemed to go still as the anticipation grew, not so much as a squirrel daring to make itself known.
A snap of a twig from their right drew both of their attentions, instantly, their daggers flew at the source. The worgen had barely stepped from the shadows before the blades lodged into her. Shocked, the beast stared at the two before her, the blades in her claws falling to the ground before she collapsed.
Mel and Illy glanced at each other after this, both raising an eyebrow before moving toward the corpse. Effortlessly, Mel turned the grizzled worgen onto his back before scowling. “Damn’t!”
“What?” Illy exclaimed, moving to his side and stretching her neck to eye the body. The cause of his curse was clear, as both daggers had pierced the beast’s heart. Looking down at Mel, he too glanced up at her.
“ONE HUNDRED!” They both shouted, their voices echoing through the empty trees.
____________________________________
“Ye still not talkin’?” Mel asked flatly as he tossed an armful of wood into the fire, his eyes narrowing as Iliae turned up her nose in response. “I keep tellin’ ye, yer dagger barely nicked the dog’s chest. Wouldn’t ‘ave been fatal fer at least minute.”
She prodded the flames for a moment with an arrow before resting her chin on her knees, clearly having no intention of responding to him. Her ear flicked as Mel finally grunted and sat down opposite of her, his own eyes going to the flames. The silence was almost palpable.
“Fuck girl, ye sure are a sore loser.” Mel finally spurted out, bile causing the flames to lick up for a brief moment.
“I didn’t lose.” Iliae snapped, stabbing a bit of log.
“Really? ‘Cause it sure seems like ye did.” He jested, a grin tugging at his lips as he tore a bit of charred pork off the fire and tossed it at her.
This caused her to look up with a glare, though it softened after a brief moment before she returned her gaze to the fire.
Mel snorted, grumbling angrily beneath his breath as he watched her intently for a moment. “I’ll be back.” He finally announced, standing up slowly before disappearing in the sea of trees.
Iliae looked up again at this, scrunching her nose up in a childish fashion as he stood. Though upon him leaving, she frowned a bit and began to violently assault the flames, causing them to dance around the meat that still hung above them. She entertained herself with this for awhile before breaking into the scotch bottle she had brought. It wasn’t until the hint of morning light came upon the horizon that she gave up her fit, “Mel?!” She shouted as she stood, already reaching for her bow.
“I’M ALMOST DONE WOMAN, HOLD YER DAMN HORSES!” He roared from somewhere beyond the trees. Iliae pinned her ears back at this and glared out to the forest before slumping back down to the ground and muttering a quiet, ‘Fuck you.’ Laying back, she closed her eyes for what seemed like only a brief moment.
What she opened her eyes to would have sent any sane person running for their lives.
Mel towered over her, his upper lip pulled into the biggest grin he could manage as he knocked her head with his boot, “Get yer ass up, already.” He stated, moving to kick her again, though before he could manage, she had already flipped onto her feet and turned to face him.
“What?”
“I got ye somethin’.” His grin widened as her eyes fell to his arms, which were held behind his back.
“Do I want to know?”
“ Of course ye want to know!” He laughed a bit before revealing his gift.
Iliae’s jaw dropped at the sight, her eyes falling to her boots as a drop of blood landed square on her toe. He had offered her a decapitated worgen head, the creature’s face frozen in fear. “That is…” Her words lingered, as she appeared to have no ability to describe the sight.
“Is?” Mel looked down at the head, apparently confused.
She began to laugh, taking the head and holding it up for a moment. “Thanks.” She smiled at him.
“Ye actually like it?” Mel scratched the back of his head as she nodded.
“You gave it to me.” Iliae stated flatly, as if it should have been obvious. Dropping the head to her side, she moved to do the unspeakable.
Mel could do nothing to fend off the attack, as the small elf had already wrapped her arms around his ribs and pulled him into a hug. Sighing, he placed a hand on her head. “Ye got to stop doin’ this.” He groaned, despite the smile that still held on his lips.
