Once a Cultist Always a....Wait What?

 

“You've got to be kidding me?!” A voice rang out with clear indignation as fel-tainted eyes skimmed over a well worn parchment.

“How old is this issue anyway?” The same voice turned warm after the question had been posed, even a bit friendly as its owner apparently addressed another.

Who they were speaking to appeared to be an Aquamancer by their garb and, of course, more obviously the water elemental that milled about nearby. They were of unnoted rank among the scheme of things concerning the Twiligh Hammer, but still far outranking the young man that spoke. The owner of the voice was, in fact, not adept at magic of any kind. Well, save for perhaps a few card tricks, but his efforts towards convincing the other Cult members that such things might prove to be a viable tactic never went over very well. Quite the contrary, they were very zealous in their pursuit with 're-conditioning' the young male. Attempts to cure him of his 'madness' were made often enough that later, such acts were met with a streak of masochistic mirth about a mile wide.

As he addressed the other, he was not immediately answered, at least in voice. The sound of something wooden splintering slowly, followed by a loud SNAP caused the young man, a blood elf by first glance, to duck quickly and avoid the end of a splintered staff that had been struck across the smooth planes of an eldritch stone. The staff had, predictably broke as a result.

The aquamancer in question was a young woman, around the same age as the male youth, but she was clearly human with her rounder features and nondescriptly un-pointed ears.

“Oops...” Her voice echoed softly with the calm of someone who found amusement in some of the most morbid situations.

“By Cho'gall's hairy ass woman, what ARE you doing?!” He cried out from behind the other side of the stone, lifting his head just enough so that she might see his expression reflecting his minor irritation, as much as genuine curiosity for the situation.

“Technically, its none of your business, being a lowly little rogue and all...” She replied smoothly, not even bothering to look up at him as she spoke, “Or that's what I'm supposed to say. I am, actually, attempting to move this thing over there--”

Her arm lifted to point out some distance away another group of eldritch stones that the rogue pointedly made a mental note of neither understanding or caring to for that matter when his squinted eyes had followed her finger. With a grunt that signaled his ignorance for the entire purpose behind it all, he lifted his gaze back towards the mage, waiting expectantly for an explanation.

For her part, she looked at him crossly, then rolled her eyes and puffed her cheeks out before humming, “Could you at least pretend you have an inkling of what we're supposed to be doing, Shedegzaol?”

The young rogue now identified as Shedegzaol offered her a blue ribbon award winning grin, before shrugging and waving the Twilight documents he still held in his hands at her, “Whaddya gonna do? Whip me?”

“I might have to if someone walks by.” She deadpanned, looking at him solemly.

Something dark crossed Shedegazol's expression as she said that, however he replied with nothing more on the point than, “You could have asked for help instead of breaking you staff.”

She waved him off with a hand and sighed, “Just go find another one, alright?”

He did.

And returned moments later with a sizable log that had the Aquamancer's eyes bulging by the time he set it down near her.

“You're a bit stronger than you look under all that lankiness.” she offered dryly amused before taking one end of the log he had just set up at an angle under the stone once more.

“Deception is the art of my profession, you know that Cal.” He smirked in return without looking at her. “Put your weight on it now, when I say go. Don't let go no matter how much strain you might feel, let gravity do the work for us.”

With a few more adjustments and some heavy grunting and a few curses, both Cultists had the stone rolling with a soft 'sigh' through the cool grass until it thumped heavily into its place.

Shedegazol clapped his hands clean and looked at the complete circle as Cal admired their handiwork with slender hands on her hips.

“It'll have to do.” She finally spoke, a touch of exhaustion to her voice as she looked over towards the rogue.

“Oh? And would you honestly tell your superiors to fuck off if they complained about it?”

“Yeah.” She grunted out, then added quickly, “In my head. But I'd blame you anyway.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You're welcome. That's what you're here for.” Her lips peeled back into a grin while eyes softened as she looked him over, “Aside from eye candy, that is.”

Shedegazol laughed unwittingly at that remark, shaking his head in wonder.

“Shameless as always. Are we done here?” He murmured lightly.

“Yeah, time for some well deserved grub I'd say. Apocalypse can wait a few more hours.”

“Blasphemy!” He gasped in mock outrage, “Surely Deathwing will eat your soul for such an impudent remark.”

“Little 'ole insignificant me? I'd be flattered.” Cal laughed brightly, hooking herself around Shedegazol's arm as if she had always belonged there.

The rogue didn't seem to mind as they turned away from the newly made ritual circle and headed back towards the makeshift camp nearby.

“I suppose that would be an honor, considering how busy he is these days. 'Course he'd just as likely send someone else to eat you for him and take all the credit if he was inclined to do so.”

“That would be an amusing message to deliver, no doubt.” Her eyes wrinkled at their corners, hiding her smile well as they approached the company of their fellow Cultists.

Shedegazol didn't reply this time. Instead his eyes drifted downward in practiced 'deference' to his betters. Betters being anyone of the Hammer that wasn't him, of course. A slender, gloved hand lifted to brush through shaggy white locks that framed his face, tucking a few unruly strands behind an unusually short, pointed ear. They immediately fell back down in front of his eyes. He didn't lift his hand a second time, however.

Cal drifted away from his arm at that point, and for a moment he was painfully aware of the loss of warmth that had been building at his side. But such a thing wasn't unusual for them.

Unusual would have been her showing him any kind of affection in front of their 'compatriots', which would have most assuredly ended badly for him more than her. He was, of course, grateful Cal watched out for him as much as she did, despite the disgrace he posed towards his family. She should have shown him disdain like anyone else had done and still do, but the fact remained that she did not.

He never had a taste for magic, unfortunately for himself, for as long as he could remember. His family had been a part of the cult for several years, fanatic in their devotion towards the clan's goals as much as any other member should have been. But him? Well, they say there was a black sheep in every family. He supposed the irony of his situation was, in this case, his family wasn't exactly made up of priests and paladins exercising purity and all of that other Holy mumbo jumbo, while he had chosen a darker path. No, instead, while they prayed daily for the destruction of Azeroth, Shedegazol reveled in exploring it. Learning about it and just interacting with it as much as he could get away with. He was thirteen when he realized that his desire to NOT see Azeroth burn in destruction like the rest of his family was quite dangerous for his health.

He tried to keep it to himself most days, but he often found himself exposed in one way or another. Amidst many attempts to forcibly change his mind, whether through physical torture or psychological, he eventually appeared to grow resistant towards many different approaches. He was an eternal optimist trapped among the biggest doomsayer's Azeroth had to offer. Some days he was absolutely floored by the idea that he had lived this long without being sacrificed to C'thun or Yogg-Saron. Though he was sure his mother had suggested it more than a few times by now.

He was the picture of abnormality among his family and the cult it seemed. Dark-skinned where many cultists were pale with as much time as they spent hidden away from sight. Starkly white hair fell to his shoulders, while two long tails that were kept wrapped behind him reached his calves. His family didn't appear to have anyone with white hair that they knew of and still lived. He was considerably short, even for a blood elf; Shedegazol found his optimistic view on life challenged daily just by existing with a bunch of homicidal maniacs bent on world destruction.

But as hard as his life had been, it had taken a brighter turn rather drastically when Calina walked into it. Originally stationed in Silithus, Calina eventually migrated her way around as her skills developed. Upon becoming an Aquamancer, she naturally headed out for the ruins of Blackfathom where their numbers had dwindled due to many invasions over the past years by would-be heroes. There either for a legitimate noble cause, or hiding behind the guise of a hero when they were simply nothing more than overly skilled looters and treasure hunters.

Shedegazol wasn't sure which he thought was more pathetic when it came down to it. A liar and an upstart parading around with falsely claimed recognition, or those who had truly righteous goals on mind, but ended up being overlooked or outright ignored in favor of more tolerable pretenders.

Perhaps he was fortunate being born into the opposite end of the spectrum, not having to deal with that sort of thing, and even taking part in weeding out a few of the overzealous idiots that charged into battle without paying attention to the commands of their leaders. Which was usually some guy or woman in plate, or more oddly a talking bear which he could only assume was a druid. All attempts like that usually led them to a swift death, so he was never inclined to truly recall every detail.

The metallic whine of his dagger being unsheathed filled the silent air, and he began to twirl it while he sifted through his silent musings. Eventually he found his mind inevitably wandering down that road that led him back to Calina. He was a child of mixed lineage, his father was a human, while his mother a blood elf. Though he knew of the war between the factions of the Horde and the Alliance, with every race drawing their line in the sand and tossing their dice in with those of 'similar' disposition, the Twilight Hammer alternatively felt no loyalty to either side. And so, among them, offspring of his kind wasn't wholly unheard of.

But if he wanted to escape its influence one day, he knew he and Calina would find trouble on both sides if one or the other tried to bring the other to the side they best fit. She, obviously would fair best among the Alliance, where he, seeming to have inherited most of his mother's features, could have passed enough to be allowed among the Horde. Even if only begrudgingly.

A sigh passed his lips as he allowed his gaze to drift towards her. Noting her fair brown hair and the way it framed her perfectly pale face so well. He admired her from a distance not for the first time while they were surrounded by the other cultists. And she didn't belong here as much as he did. They both knew it. He often wondered to himself when his affections toward her finally lead him to love, but though he couldn't place it accurately, he knew she cared for him just as much.

Pity in their line of work, life expectancy wasn't very high. In fact, dying was quite the popular pastime for many Cultists. Whether by sacrifice or the hand of some adventurer, many died young. Or at least prematurely in regards to their goals. It was a wonder they were still around. But he supposed there were still plenty enough idiots in Azeroth waiting to be converted in to the 'Church of the Angry Earth Aspect and Latter Day Elementals'.

As he drifted away from his reverie and came back to the realm of reality, lunch was ready, but he would have to wait. The casters ate first, as a rule, while those who were inept at magic were left to fight over the scraps along with the initiates. Most in his line of work ended up learning how to hunt or fish for their own meals. But he was fortunate once more by Calina's presence as she could cook, and often did. It was always later and long after everyone else had shuffled off back to their work, but she always made sure he was stuffed and unable to eat another bite.

He would often accuse her playfully of trying to get him killed, leaving him in such a fate state that he could hardly roll over let alone slink about in the shadows. By the time his 'personal' meal was ready today, however, it was drawing near nightfall. And that meant he would be out for his 'shift'. He ate sparingly before dropping a kiss on Calina's cheek, making his way out into the forest towards his position.

The night was predictably uneventful during his watch, and as he slipped back into Calina's tent, he couldn't help but think how good he had it, when he saw her asleep peacefully.

Sword calloused hands found delicate softer ones while fingers entwined and two forms melded back against the straw cot, comfortably pressed together and drifting off to sleep quickly.

It was a good day to be alive.

 

Entry 2

“Ohh how the weeks fly by...” Calina mused lightly as she stroked her fingers through her companion's hair.

Shedegazol lay with his head across the Aquamancer's lap, lightly snoozing in the cool crisp air of a spring morning. An eye cracked open to expose a brilliant green orb that glowed with fel-taint. Peeling his lips back into a warm smile, he groaned his concurrence with a stretch.

“All that work done. Now we just wait?” He asked lightly, lifting a hand to brush away a twig that had settled in Calina's hair at some point.

Taking it between deft fingers, he twirled the object as he felt her shrug more than saw it.

“It's about the only thing we can do, unless someone decides to find something else for us.”

“Hmm.. personally, I think I like this better. The still, the silence of it all. Undisturbed and peaceful, it suits us.”

Calina snickered faintly, drumming her fingers over his forehead now as she chided him in a singing voice, “You speak nonsense and blasphemy~”

“I am nonsense and blasphemy.” He replied warmly, tilting his head back just enough to press a feather-light kiss to her fingertips.

A blush worked its way across her features at the action, causing her to turn her gaze away in a sudden rush of shyness, looking out towards the ocean.

“It IS nice though. Have I ever told you why I like the ocean?” She asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“You mean there is another reason aside from being an Aquamancer?” He chirpped out, more than obviously teasing and mocking her for her chosen path.

Calina hissed softly, flicking him across a sensitive ear, which cause Shedegazol to yelp out and whine almost immediately at the abuse.

“No.” She spoke emphatically, “Don't be silly, I'm trying to be serious...”

Shedegazol rubbed at his assaulted ear and glared at her for a moment. His expression softened quickly as she spoke, however and he rolled onto his side before sitting up all in one fluid movement.

“Okay.” He purred richly, signaling he was ready to pay attention and give her words some serious thought.

Calina hummed thoughtfully, her attention having been turned back to the ocean where she stared out across for a few moments. She spoke only after he prodded her out from her silent reverie, sounding wistful.

“It's so vast, isn't it?” It was a rhetorical question of course, and he didn't reply.

“Something so huge, so seemingly endless and yet its full of life you can't see on the surface. We all wander around this world acting like we're so important, as if our mere existence leaves unending ripples across the cosmos for every little action we take.”

Shedegazol smiled at her, lifting an arm to pull her against his form in a hug as he finally let his gaze tear away from her while she spoke to look out across the ocean. Upon studying it with an open mind, he found himself easily overwhelmed by the shear size of it. And he knew she was right, in his heart, before she said anything else.

“But when I stand next to the ocean... I feel insignificant. Like a tiny grain of sand in a sea of desert. If I were all that important, surely the ocean wouldn't feel so... beyond my kin. When I die... the ocean won't dry up. It won't shift or swirl unnaturally with anger in a torrent of unimaginable power. It will just keep going. Steady and unmindful of anything outside of the laws that rule it. I like that feeling.” She hummed again, appreciatively as she sank against the rogue's side.

“I like the idea that, no matter what we do, or who we are, in the end, the world won't she a tear for our loss. It's humbling, and I like being reminded that I'm only human. Which is why we will never succeed. Azeroth just won't let us. The world was Deathwing's greatest charge and its moved beyond him now. He'll be smothered like the rest of us one day. And Azeroth won't even bat a proverbial eyelash when that day comes.”

He said nothing when she finished speaking and relating her soul to him, there was simply no need. Anything voiced after such a passionate declaration, he felt would simply sully the profoundness of its whole. So, instead, he kissed the top of Calina's head softly. He understood. He believed the same thing with every fiber of his being.

However, there was something about the entirety of it that didn't settle well with him. Though Azeroth may not have been affected by her loss, he knew there was one world that would shatter for it. His lips remained tight on the notion, refraining from saying it outloud. Instead, he merely adjusted his position and nestled his cheek against the top of her sun-warmed hair, and closed his eyes as he fought the wave of emotion that threatened to well up and overflow inside of him.

He supposed that was just a side affect of standing near the ocean though.

Long hours passed eventually as he fell into brooking over what Calina spoke of. And somewhere along the way as his mind drifted, she had slipped from his side without him knowing.

It was only when the soft, haunting sound of a woman's voice pierced the air that he broke from his thoughts. Eyes lifted towards the voice, as if lured there in a hazy stupor, a voice that now sang to the ocean. He blinked in sleepy confusion, thinking he was witnessing the form of some shade manifesting itself by the shore, crying out in vain to the water. When he spotted the familiar brown locks being whipped around violently by the ocean winds, however, he knew it to be Calina.

Her voice resonated like bell, beautiful and sad. She spoke to the crashing waves through vermillion lips as if coaxing the water to dance with her. She looked like an angel, drifting upon the sand as she sang her melancholy tune to an audience that would never appreciate her beauty and uniqueness.

In time, however, his eyelids fell shut over fel-tainted eyes, drifting off and carried away into hushed dreams of sadness and lingering hope by the spell his lover's voice now wove. His heart ached, yet he was comfortably at peace.

It was a good day to feel insignificant.

 

Entry 3

 

Lightning crashed overhead and startled one of the adventurers in the group that had appeared outside of Blackfathom. By the looks of them, they looked more like the tavern swill that muddled about in a drunken stupor, all having lifted up their arms and declared unanimously to do something entirely stupid with complete strangers.

This was no group of heroes out to save Azeroth. Just a few hoodlums in a handful of magical gear intent on murder.

Five of them, to be exact. They always seemed to come in groups of five. Something the oldest wizards had noted within the Cult, but no one could explain, save for some outlandish superstition involving numbers.

A human in mail armor, bald and scarred across every inch of exposed skin. His expression held a permanent sneer due to a poorly healed cut that had ripped the left side of his mouth open.

Two dwarves. The first, or taller of the two, wore the robes of a priest, his long red beard braided with the care and pride that any self respecting dwarf took in his appearance. Though he wielded the Light, it was clear by his disposition he wasn't a good man. His eyes glowed with the lust of greed and battle that would put a Death Knight to shame.

The second was smaller, and oddly, carried a bow with a quiver of arrows strapped to her back instead of the usual blunderbuss they were known for. At her side was a great white bear that appeared more interested in the slab of meat that had just been tossed its way than the growing tension of the situation.

The fourth one had been the one to startle at the sudden crash of lightning and thunder overhead. It was a gnome decked out in armor that was one size too large for him, while his bright pink spiky hair and beard was disheveled and caught in the kinks of the mail armor he wore. He was skiddish and twitchy, beady eyes darting about as if he expected a monster to jump out and gobble him up at any moment. More than once he stare balefully at the bear by the huntress' side, twisting the oversized battle-ax in his greasy little palms nervously.

The last that made up their 'outfit' was a Draenei. He was contrastingly regal in his own armor when compared to the others, with a book strapped to his belt while he held an impressive mace and a shield in each hand. Clearly a paladin by the swagger of him, he looked at the others in his group with an air of pity and disdain that was nurtured by a lifetime of xenophobia. He might have been the best natured one out of the bunch, except he favored a wide aura of arrogance that was impossible to ignore.

Clearly the stuffs of which heroes are made of.

Ahead of them, and directly across, standing between them and the entrance to the underground ruins stood a single woman with her water elemental. Her long brown locks frame pale features perfectly, while hazel eyes grew hard with determination as she looked over the group that had approached.

“You don't look ready to be here.” She spoke coldly through vermillion colored lips, “In fact, you don't look like you were ready to roll out of bed.”

The human's eye twitched at the insult and he drew his massive flamberge from its sheath as a result of being successfully goaded by her words. Spitting out a retort that was lined with nasty, day-old beer froth, he snarled, “Shut your dirty little mouth whore! I'll slit that godsdamned Cultist throat of yours!”

The woman merely tilted her head to the side, hands splaying with palms facing out as if to shrug without the true motion.

“Y-yeah-yeah! You all like dying for your stupid g-gods anyway! We'll be getting you one step closer, you'll s-see!”

This was shrieked by the nervous one, who appeared unwilling to be outdone by his human compatriot. The others seemed to remain silent, looking towards the paladin who was now identified as the leader with that simple deference to decision.

The woman raised her brow inquisitively, noting this before inclining her head towards him.

“Well then, if you insist on continuing down this perilous path, I'm afraid I'm going to have to destroy you. Not that I care or anything, truthfully things have grown stale over the past weeks and I've been itching to throw a few spells around.” She smiled sweetly, her voice devilishly soft and friendly despite the weight of her threats.

The Draenei snore, hefting the mace to rest across his shoulder as he finally spoke, “Impertinent child. We will purify this place once and for all of your kind.”

“Many have tried before. Its not very effective.” She continued to smile that disarming smile of hers.

“Awww... come on! Quit chattin' with the bitch and get goin'. I've heard tales of a nice sword they got hidden down there somewhere. I wanna find it and put it to some good use!”

“Aye, I dunnae got annae time ta be wastin' makin' convar'sashion with the lassy.”

Pursing her lips in amusement, her eyebrows shot up again and she implored the paladin once more.

“Impatient bunch you've got there. You sure you can handle leading them successfully through the WHOLE ruins, even if you manage to make it past me? There are a loooot of my associates down there after all.”

The Draenei snarled his response, past words it seemed as he stomped his hoofed feet in preparation of a charge. The overly embellished thunderous stomping was followed by pleased jeering, and perhaps, more unfortunately, a few charges by the others that had not been ordered to do so yet.

The priest, apparently caught up in the bloodlust of the moment, had decided he too would join the melee, forgetting himself and the position he had originally been taken on for. His mistake proved to be more fatal than he could have imagined however, as the shimmering form of something cloaked closed in on him.

As the other four continued to charge the seemingly unarmed mage and her elemental, they quickly forget to leave the priest protected, and the sound of their healer's choking scream of pain was lost in the bloodlust of battle. Even as short and cut off as it had been. The dwarven priest stood stiff, his body prostrate at an odd angle, leaning forward while the sickly curve of a dagger protruded from his thick throat. Blood and spit bubbled up over his lips and stained his red beard darker as his eyes rolled by and the light of life dimmed from them.

His assailant slipped back into the realm of normal sight from the shadows. The glare and cold countenance of the rogue was almost palpable as he pulled his dagger free of its fleshy sheath with a sickening pop and wetness. As the priest's body slumped to the sand in a lifeless heap, the slender form of the half-elf swayed like a dancer, adopting his next stance to strike once more.

At the same time he had stricken the unsuspecting healer, a soft 'Aiya!' had been yelled out, and with it, the sensation of arcane energies beginning to pool and electrify the molecules around all who fought nearby as it was summoned.

The air around them chilled instantaneously with a cold snap, breath misting as it was exhaled, then the water within the very air began to condense and pool with the speed of the very same lightning that cracked over head.

The human warrior roared in rage as all four of the remaining group found themselves rooted in place by thick rings of ice around their feet. He was far too distracted by his rage in being halted from his charge that he forgot all he had been taught of martial skills through his anger.

The nervous little gnome however, appeared unusually focused now that the battle had begun. Roaring his own, if somewhat comical, battlecry, the gnome broke free of the ice and charged the Aquamancer, slamming into her with the force of a bull's charge.

The caster choked in surprise, her next spell forgotten as her concentration was wrenched as violently from her as she had been knocked back, sand arcing around her as she slid several feet to a halt nearby some pillars.

“Tch.” The noise came from the rogue and it was the only sound he made after witnessing what had happened.

Kicking silently into a run, he dashed forward, flipping both daggers he now held in his hands so that they faced backwards alongside his wrists. He spotted the huntress, already knocking an arrow and preparing to fire at the woman that had been knocked to the ground by the vicious little gnome. Kicking once more, he drew one leg up and somersaulted over the dwarf's head, nailing her square in the jaw with his still outstretched foot as he flipped.

She cried out in anguish as best as she could, her jaw now fractured from the force of the blow as she lost handle of her bow and arrows, falling hard on her back onto the ground with a thud. The bear, which had turned away from the Aquamancer's water elemental that it had been busy with when it sensed its master in danger. It charged the rogue with a bestial roar, or tried to, attempting to intervene before he had reached her. One massive, dangerously clawed paw swiped out, slicing across his armored thigh when it finally reached him. The leather only afforded so much protection, but the sharpness of the bear's claw was enough to pierce through, shredding him. Thankfully, however, the angle in which he took the blow had been an awkward once for the bear to achieve, and it hadn't managed to slice very deep. Still, the sharp tang of his own blood lifted to fill his nostrils and he winced as he landed but didn't so much as pause to inspect the wound. As he fell back to the earth with a rough, but somewhat graceful thud, he was immediately on the run once more.

The bear, was not so fortunate in its luck, charging and lashing out at an odd angle as it had to begin with, it was unable to twist itself in time to avoid landing on it's master. There was a sickening crunch as over five hundred pounds of bear slammed onto the poor huntress' head. Backing away immediately in the confusion of what had just taken place, it seemed to have no idea what or who had managed to kill her. The bear enraged beyond a turning point now, thrashed about angrily and turned back onto the group. Confused and lost without its master's direction, and far too angry at its loss to distinguish friend from foe, it looked about for the nearest thing to maim. It spotted the human first, who was cursing and slamming the hilt of his blade against the ice that still held him, in an effort to dislodge himself. What came next was perhaps to be expected from an enraged bear, but still no less terrifying in its execution.

Charging full tilt, the bear roared at the top of its lungs, exposing sharp canines and incisors meant for grinding and tearing at flesh as much as taking in plants and fruits. With one powerful swipe of its forepaw, the bear tore the human warrior's arm from its socket, chain mail and all. The dismembered limb flipped through the air and landed in some nearby brush as blood misted shortly across the sand from the grievous wound. He didn't have time to cry out as his body and mind went into shock from the loss of the appendage. Instead, the only option left for him was twist his body around with eyes bulging and mouth agape, terror spread clear across his features as the massive maw of the beast came down on him.

Bear and human both rolled with the force of the impact, sliding further away from the group down the sandbank. The human was unconscious by this point, and more than likely already dead, but the bear, still enraged, didn't seem to care as it brutally crushed his chest in with a thrust of its forelegs.

The gnome was bearing down on the Aquamancer once more in the same moments the bear had turned on its allies. A look of pure, murderous intent reflected in his beady little eyes that now surpassed the ridiculousness of his entire appearance. Even faced with what appeared to be her certain end, however, the woman simple glared at the gnome with equal rage and intent. Her normally plush lips were thinned in a grimace of pain as much as steely determination. Fingers clutched at her staff nearby that had been flung with her in the gnome's initial charge.

When her eyes suddenly lifted to catch sight of the rogue's dark form bearing down on them both with unimaginable speed, it seemed to be enough to break the gnome's own concentration, who had been entirely focused and captured by her hateful gaze. His tiny frame twisted around with surprising dexterity, swinging the battle-ax widely as he roared out another battle cry, aiming for the rogue's chest, and would likely greet him flawlessly if the half-elf couldn't stop himself in time.

With the skill of a cat twisting in mid-air to land on its feet, the rogue switched his running pattern in a move reminiscent of some kind of dance, attempting to counter his own inertia he had made with his full tilt sprint. Sand sprayed up as a result of both feet planting against the ground at the same time and his lithe form twisted at an angle backwards to slow himself further still.

Perhaps by luck, the sand had enough propulsion of its own to sail through the air far enough and slap the gnome in the face. Sand caught in his open mouth and eyes, the gnome was blinded and began to choke vehemently. Dropping his weapon in instinct to clear the offending blockage from his eyes and mouth, he was far too distracted to notice the Aquamancer tightening her grip on the staff by her side. Contorting her face in naked anger now, the woman brought up her staff and swung outwardly with all her strength, slamming the surprisingly flexible wood against the gnome's head. He fell quickly to the ground, unconscious and doing a small flip through the air as he landed hard on his back.

The rogue, now sheathing his daggers, outstretched a hand to help the Aquamancer up as she commanded her elemental to return to her side after it had taken the opportunity to slay the bear that had foolishly turned its back on it to chase the rogue down. When all was settled and accounted for, both half-elf and human woman looked up expectantly at the Draenei that still remained, though now free from his icy prison. The spell had only lasted a few moments, but it had taken the two of them only that long to dispatch the other four with seemingly little effort at all.

Any way you sliced, it was still disparaging for any leader to deal with.

A long, cold and steely silenced passed between the three. The Draenei glared with as much malice and hatred as he could muster, born from a wounded pride at being beaten so soundly, but also hiding the fear that now twisted his stomach into a knot and threatened to double him over. The other two, the Cultists merely stared at him blankly as if this was the result he should have expected all along. Tipping his chin up to glare a the two down the bridge of his wide nose, he finally made up his mind. Turning tail, literally, the defeated paladin began to walk away. First slowly, then at a gradually more brisk pace before he was in an all out run.

The pair of Cultists exchanged a glance before the rogue shrugged and began to turn away. He was stopped however, when he heard the Aquamancer speak.

“You know he's just going to come back with more 'friends' right?” Her tone reflected dejection as if she wasn't looking forward to killing anymore idiots for the day.

That tone was all it took, however, to spurn the rogue back around. He gave her a warm look before a silver flash raced through the air. With an unseen flick of his wrist, he sent a dagger sailing through the air with deadly precision.

The paladin cried out sharply in a matter of seconds and tripped forward to fall hidden by the tall grass. An arcing stream of blood that had spurted out from the Draenei's head as he fell was the only evidence that the rogue hit his mark. The woman returned his warm smile after she noted the paladin's death and sighed in relief.

He merely lifted his arm and wrapped it around her slender form affectionately, and protectively. She sank into him easily, nuzzling against the leather breastplate he wore. They both began to walk back toward the entrance of the ruin, stepping over the bodies of the slain as they moved. The pair only stopped when they heard a faint groan and exchanged glances once more.

Recalling the gnome that had only just been knocked out, they immediately made their way back to his side.

“He was the best out of the bunch.” The half-elf commented with dry amusement.

“Ironic as that was, considering he still failed.” The hazel-eyed woman replied, “Tie him up, we can't have him escaping.”

The rogue stood there fro some time simply staring at the gnome who groaned again and twitched in pain as he slowly worked his way back into consciousness. When he was nudged out of his thoughts by the woman at his side, encouraging him to get to work, he instead knelt down next to the pint sized warrior.

Pulling a dagger free from its sheath, he grabbed the gnome by his spiky pink locks and tilted his head back at a sharp angle.

“What are you doing?” She asked emphatically, more out of pretense than truly wondering. She knew exactly what he was about to do.

Without saying a word, he sliced the blade quickly across his carotid artery and held the gnome down for all few seconds it actually took him to bleed out from his wound.

“He was just going to be used as a sacrifice.” The half-elf replied solemnly after wiping his blade clean and re-sheathing it.

“And?” She echoed, amused by her lover's countenance.

“No matter how stupid or foolish he might have been, I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.” The rogue replied once more.

Today was a good day to die.