Warcraft - Bathed in Crimson

[Kuja]

Largely this can be blamed on a WoW forum thread that encouraged me to write it. Partly I blame Steve. Not a very long piece, just a little theoretical WoW character piece and crossover.


World of Warcraft - Bathed in Crimson


When the crimson meteor had fallen from the rainy skies over Gilneas, none present had quite known what to expect. Some had feared the herald of a new demonic invasion. Others had worried that it was some new weapon of the enemy.

Others had hoped it might prove useful, somehow.

Regardless, nobody had quite known what to make of it, and so within moments the race was on as worgen and Forsaken alike rushed towards the crash site to uncover this developing mystery, and more important, to deny the other side access to it.

The crater was a smoking wreck thirty feet in diameter, and even as the first of them dared to brave the heat and approach, fighting broke out between the wolves and undead around the lip of the impression.

Executor James Kriger dove into the battle, blade and shield alike quickly finding their pace in slicing flesh and breaking bones. Within moments he had forgotton the strange meteor - some arcane mystery to be left to the spellcasters, no doubt, and concentrated on doing what he did best - killing. The worgen were deadly foes, but Kriger held no fear of them; not anymore. He roared in defiance of their howls, punctuating his wordless retort with a shield bash that broke the muzzle of some savage man-beast.

That was when the red light suddenly lifted out of the crater, washing over the growing battle like a stain of blood. A few of the combatants quailed and fell back, anticipating some nameless horror. Others fought even harder in their will to claim the artifact, or simply for the fact that they were face to face with their hated foes. Kiger was among these latter, and so as a result he barely noticed the shifting light until the moment it drifted in front of his face.

As the crimson glow fell over him he paused. The source of the light looked like...a gem? No, a piece of jewelry of some kind. Wary, the Forsaken took a step back. Then some damn fool worgen started to reach out for the thing and Kirger reacted instinctively, dropping his blade and reaching out to pluck it from the air.

"James Frederick Kriger," the toneless voice said the moment his fist closed about the ring. "You have great rage in your heart. You belong to the Red Lantern Corps."

All went silent. The moment seemed to stretch on, and on, until the Forsaken slowly opened his bony fingers and there regarded the glimmering ring, seated upon his third finger as if it had always been there.

One of the Deathguard came slinking up, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Execu-"

He never got past the third syllable. With a sudden blur of motion Kriger whirled, a flash of light forming in the air as a wicked axe crafted of boiling crimson energy took shape about his hand and chopped through the undead soldier, cleaving him in two seemingly without effort.

In the shock of the crowd following the sudden murder, Kriger shook his shield from his arm and reached up, scrabbling at his helm and tearing it from him. Revealed, the Executor's mouth dripped blood seemingly pitch-back in the hellish light that was suffusing his body, a halo of it glimmering around a sutured wound at the right side of his skull. His eyes were wide and though years ago his undead body had dispensed with the need for air, his shoulders rocked with rapid, fevered breaths. His mouth opened and he loosed a single, wordless roar, a sound far too thunderous to have come from any mortal throat.

They attacked him - all of them. Worgen and Forsaken alike threw themselves at the corrupted warrior in a sudden rush to cut him down before whatever force had taken hold of him carried out its plan. But by then it was already too late - a jagged sword to match the axe sprung into being in Kriger's offhand, and then there was only the tear of flesh and the scream of death. He cut a swath through the gathered forces, mutilated corpses and sundered corpse-parts littering the ground in his wake. Fire crackled with every movement he made, his body seeming alight in crimson flame. None could harm him - none could touch him, and before long the broken remnants of the warbands went fleeing in terror, scattering in all directions.

Kriger didn't bother to pursue them - he was already running, running, running towards the northeast. He moved so fast his feet barely touched the ground; soon enough they didn't touch the ground, and the Forsaken flew with dreadful speed, ripping the air itself and leaving broken trees and scattered branches in his wake. His course took him over Lordamere Lake, and his passing kicked up savage, foaming waves. A clutch of murloc huts was erased. Kriger barely even noticed.

A wall parted and fell before him, brick and mortar crumbling as he thundered through it. The ruins of Capitol City presented no obstacle at all as he closed in on the one target that had loomed foremost in his mind the moment the ring had settled around his finger. She was out in the open, attended by her winged servants - the fool, she! He had traveled here so quickly that word had not yet reached for her to retreat belowground.

And as he reached her, his mouth opened and dark blood gushed from his throat as he roared her name -

"SYYYYLLVAAAAANAAAAAAAAAS!"

There was just enough time for him to register the shock in her rubied eyes before the ethereal axe and sword struck in unison. She fell without a wound, without ceremony, her body quartered by the vicious blows. He carried on past her without a moment's pause, falling upon the angelic forms of the val'kyr, her precious, precious bulwark against the grave, cutting each of them down before they had even the slightest chance to undo his grim work.

And when it was all done, James Kriger stood upon the wall of the ruins and looked out over Tirisfal, his body wreathed in roiling, chaotic energies that licked and twisted like living flames, like animate rivers of blood, carrying upwards into a great column of gory brilliance. And he spoke-

"With blood and rage of crimson red,
Ripped from corpse so freshly dead,
Together with our hellish hate,
We'll burn you all--That is your fate!"

And then he set about fulfilling his oath.

[Steve]

Intriguing....

That reminds me that I never continued Emerald Tidings....