Melting Icecrown (Closed for HotKittygirl)

[Armphid]

At the edge of the world, the wind was cold and hard as it blew relentless over the rocky mountains and cliffs that burst up through the trapped Icecrown glacier and those that hemmed it in. Here on the northwest stretch of Azeroth's most northern continent, all was ice and rock, nothing grew, and few things lived.

A casual observer might think it teemed with life and plenty, despite it's frigid and unforgiving appearance but they would be wrong. Many things walked and crawled and leaped and some even flew but of all those only a small percentage actually lived. Monstrosities and broken heroes walked the icy wastes and guarded the massive walls of stone and hard chilled iron that split the land apart and guarded the paths to the spires and majestic soaring heights of Icecrown Citadel. There dwelt the heart of all those that walked without life, their mind and guiding hand, utterly hateful and mad, empowered by demonic power strengthened immeasurably by arcane workings, by cold, by disease, and by blood and death above all. Over them all flew great and impossible beasts of bone and leathery decayed wings, on fire from within with cobalt blue tongues of purest frost, the unliving frost wyrms endlessly plying the skies on the sustaining and driving will of the Lich King.

Here undeath reigned as it did nowhere else. The land itself seemed to show it; the wind bit harder, the light was dimmer, the shadows longer. There were no sounds save the howl of the wind, the faint clack of bone, the occasional bellow of one of the horrid guardians but even those sounds were muted and pale things, as if sound itself had died.

And yet...there was life. At the mountainous borders, the tops of trees and vegetation beyond could be seen. In the frigid seas, whales and fish swam and leaped, and the natives of the hard land lived off them. Clinging to cliff walls, the brutish and near-giant vrykul scraped their living. And this was not all. Ships plied the waters, blue and silver, red and gold, searching for holds against those who lived not. Over that glacial hell that crawled with evil, two mighty vessels turned through the skies in open war and defiance of the sentinels below. On islands north and west, hateful zealots in red and white schemed and stood still in their unforgiving hate against the Scourge.

And on the far north and eastern borders of the land, snugged in out of the worst of the wind and chill by mountains and cliffs, was a large camp of tents and banners and a huge and splendid coliseum where the greatest enemies of undeath gathered and trained. Here the sky was brighter and the ocean bluer, the snow was white with purity and not greyed and sullied, here sounded cheers and prayers, laughter and curses, the glorious cacophony of sound that came only with life. Soldiers and sentinels on shining hippogriffs patrolled the air and land. Enchantments and mighty magics were worked onto each stone of the massive arena and every plank of wood in the raised platforms the tent rested on and small plinths bordering the claimed land; here the wind did not bite so hard and the air was warmer, here peace and valour reigned and casual violence and death did not abide. This was the Argent Tournament; the greatest bastion for the end of the Lich King's domination and death to still shine and give hope to the unhappy world.

Set against one of the walls of the massive stadium was a stage. Assembled before it were a mix of people who had split themselves into two separate groups. On one side, green skinned orcs stood beside lean, long-limbed trolls, tall and thick thewed tauren, slender and elegent pale-skinned Blood Elves, and darksome and bent Forsaken undead. To the other were humans, and their oldest allies, the stout and hardy dwarves, tiny and devious gnomes, and their newer friends, the tall and powerful Night Elves with their glowing eyes and many hues of skin, and the demonic looking Draenei with their mighty builds towering above the rest.

Heroes of the Alliance and Horde looked at one another warily and passed word among themselves, whispering and muttering. Here and there a finger pointed where one of the enemy was known to the other side. Yet there had been no challenges, no weapons drawn, no blood shed. The enchantment that permeated the very stone under their feet kept the peace for now.

Many eyes swept upward as there came a bird-like call of greeting. A massive crow with feathers in hues of purple and blue turned in from above, wings beating as his descent slowed. He wore decorations here and there, and back from it's glowing golden eyes were a pair of very non-avian ears that were long and pointed, at a low angle from the head.

Smoke whirled about it a few feet before it would have landed and there was a faint grunt from the obscuring mist. It cleared in a moment and there was no longer a stormcrow there but a Night Elf man who stood and rolled his shoulders, wincing a bit. "Sorry for the dramatic entrance," his voice was warm and low, an almost purr like quality to his words. "Have I missed anything?"

Jasthelas Bearmantle, Druid of the Cenarion Circle, was young for his people. He was not yet a century old and like all his folk looked far younger, as if in an endless summer of young adulthood. His smooth skin was the blue of the sky at twilight and his eyes burned with a silver light. His hair was a long mane of dark green that fell to the small of his back and almost half way down his powerful chest, though he brushed it back over his shoulders. He was clean shaven save for a pair of long but well trimmed and kept sideburns that went down and curved slightly to end just above his jawline. His features were clean, sharp and strong with full lips quirked in a slight smirk. His ears, as with all Night Elves, were long and sharp, the ends bobbing slightly as he moved. His body was strong and muscular with broad shoulders and powerfully built, long arms and legs and a narrow waist. Jasthelas was tall, standing at 7'3", and moved with an easy and almost primal grace. He was clad in leathers that hugged his body; displaying it almost as much as they hid and protected him, and a stout staff was strapped across his back.

"Just everyone exchanging dirty looks with our counterparts over there," a lithe and curvaceous human woman with tawny hair said. She wore thick robes in dark colors and bore a dagger and a mystic sigil on her belt, one hand fingering the dagger hilt idly. "No one's said "boo" yet though."

"Most of us was wondering more that we are all doing here," another voice opined. The speaker was a massive Draenei male, taller than Jas by a hand, his arms crossed across his broad chest. A pair of tendrils came from his chin, shifting and squirming a bit as he shook his head, a pair of horns curling up and out from his forehead; his skin was a deep ocean blue and his pulled back hair a bright white. He was clad in thick mail and more a pair of cruel looking axes. "And where everyone is staying for the night. And with whom."

Jas grinned, "Now that last part is interesting, you're right." He looked about, "Of course, so it what we're doing here...but I think we're about to find out."

A lone human man was walking towards the assembled throng from a tent off to the west, beyond a cleared rectangular area set with benches. He was tall for a human and strongly built; his already might frame wrapped in protective plates of enchanted metal. A tabard of white with a black sunburst symbol was over his armor and a long, thick cloak kept the cold off of him. His hair was grey and his features stern and noble. In one hand, held almost negligently as though it weighted naught, was a massive, sharp edged, blunt ended blade that shone with a light that was both warming and terrifying. Silence fell as he approached and many inclined their heads or outright bowed.

Tirion Fordring, Supreme Commander of the Argent Crusade mounted the wooden steps to the stage and turned to face those gathered. The older paladin's eyes swept over the group that had split into two and he nodded, his eyes determined and almost bemused. "Combatants of the Alliance and Horde! You are welcome under the banner of the Argent Crusade."

He lifted the legendary Ashbringer and pointed with it, "To the south lies our goal. We will march to the Citadel and cut out the heart of the Scourge where it dwells." He lowered the weapon and shook his head, "But this is no task to be taken lightly. A massive attack with every able-bodied man would end in needless slaughter. Every soldier lost would rise as the enemy. Azeroth would be left defenseless against the undead threat." Several in the crowd nodded at that; all of them had seen their own fallen allies raised to fight against them.

"Instead," he continued, "we require a small, concentrated strike force for the attack to succeed. For that reason, we have created the Argent Tournament." He gestured to the tents and training grounds, the looming coliseum behind him. "Within these walls, you will be tested. Your skill in combat will be matched against the fiercest dangers Northrend has to offer under the watchful eyes of your leaders. Your prowess, your might, and your cunning will be under close watch. These games will determine the best Azeroth has to offer."

The tension over the audience had changed. The suspicion was not gone but lessened, as all present understood what this meant. It was to end. One way or another, The Argent Crusade was readying to strike. "The victors will take their rightful place in the assault upon the Citadel. We will stand together in the face of evil, and Arthas WILL fall!"

Tirion shouldered the huge blade, "This is not a way of Alliance and Horde, but of life itself. There are no sides here but those against the Scourge and those with them. Train and spar as you will but no violence will be tolerated; all of our quarrels and grievances are only a blessing to our undying foe. I would encourage you to live and fight as one, for all Azeroth, but I know for many that is impossible. Therefore, I say only this; the peace shall be kept. Those who break it will leave no body to be raised."

 

[HotKittygirl]

All eyes were upon Tirion as he began to address the gathered crowd, his tone and natural charisma creating a tangible energy within the air. More than a few took to his call eagerly, ready to prove themselves before their leaders and peers. A few cheers went up after the initial speech, along with the obligatory standing ovation. Though not all in attendance seemed so thrilled. Moments before the dramatic entrance of the young druid a trio of particularly curious adventurers stalked their way towards the assembled benches and claimed their spot therein. The most notable of the three were the two clad in plate armor, though they couldn't look more the opposite.

The first was a night elf female, clad in a suit of dull gray plate, which clung rather greedily to her undeniable feminine curves. A pair of large pauldrons hid most of her from view as she sat upon the bench, a cloak draped haphazardly about her. A large and notched, obviously well-used, two handed sword rested against the bench at her side, almost as tall as the night elf was herself. She had a gleaming mane of silver, cropped incredibly short in the back, her bangs swept to the right over her brow, the occasional lock tickling at her nose. A pair of indigo blue stripes raced down either cheek, the only mark on her otherwise flawless, pale flesh; she had the skin tone more in line with that of a human than a night elf.

The other armor clad figure sat nearby, a draenei female with skin of a dark violet hue, though more often than not it appeared almost midnight black. While she had an undeniable beautiful face, sharp features and full lips, the stoic look she wore and the cold stare in those shimmering blue eyes kept many from making any advancements towards her. Her hair, also rather short, was a stark contrast from her flesh, a vivid white, with bangs fall upon either side of her cheeks, tickling at her chin with the slightest of movements. While many wore cloaks and other clothing to protect themselves from the bitter cold of Northrend, this particular female didn't seem phased by it at all. Indeed, her plate armor was more than a little revealing, leaving her mid-drift exposed and even offering a rather tempting display of her ample cleavage. Strapped to either of her shapely hips was a wicked sharp blade, its edge glinting even in the dimlight. She sat on the bench unmoving, one leg crossed over the other with her arms resting on the bench behind her.


That last and seemingly least inconspicuous of the trio was another night elf, though she wore not plate or carried a massive weapon. Seated between the two with what could only be described as a bored look upon her face, the night elf was of short stature for her kind, coming in only at six foot two inches. Her frame was sleek and athletic, there was no denying that sinful frame underneath skintight leather armor, a bodice cinching her already sleek waist and pressing her firm swells up and together in an all too tempting display. Her hair was a vibrant violet in hue, short and wild, the longest strand barely touching her shoulders. Her silvery eyes seemed almost closed, though they were simply focused on her hands. Clutched in her slender grasp was a thick dagger, its tip currently occupied underneath her nails as she cleaned them one by one. Her breath streamed out in white puffs from plush lips and nostrils, the occasional huff accompanying such as she looked up and cast a glance around herself.

“Is he done yet? I need a stiff drink,” The young night elf said at length, a one Ali'sundra Swiftstalker. “And my butt is numb...”

“You've been complaining since the boat. The very first one in the Howling Fjord,” The other night elf put in, her tone much more serious than her seemingly flippant friend. Kiyunda Stormsurge cast the violet haired rogue a disapproving glance, her lips pursing as if she were thinking of more to say. Yet before she could Ali stood up with a huff, flipping the dagger in her grasp before deftly catching it and sheathing the blade at her side. As she stood it was more than evident that the rogue was loaded with all kinds of sharp implements and then some. From the thick belt at her waist hung a curious pair of goggles, their lenses a vivid green.

“I thought she was the frosty one,” Ali said at length, folding her arms over her chest. It was the Draenei's turn to react, her lips parted and a barely audible laughter came forth. A keen eye would note that even with that exhalation there was no puff of white frost in the air, nor had there ever been as she took breath. Terha offered a shake of her head before she too rose from the benched in a slow, purposeful manner. Her horns curved up and back over her head and only seemed to add to her impressive height, easily towering over most other races of the alliance.

“I have my moments. But for now, as much as I regret saying it, I'm with you,” She spoke in a low, husky tone, her thick draenic accent sculpting her words exotically. Ali smiled almost smugly before her attention was diverted. Those wide brows arched curiously as those silvery orbs fell upon Jas as he moved by. Kiyunda was about to speak when she caught sight of just where the rogue's eyes were going.

“Give me a minute,” Ali said without waiting for an answer, her sleek, svelte frame easily bounding over the benches as she took two elegant strides and caught up with him, a rather coy smile playing upon her lips, though her eyes spoke of something all together different.

“Oh hey there...You look like you could use a group,” She said in that husky, inviting tone, tilting her head back to take in the handsome night elf's visage entirely. He was even better looking up close. Well, she thought to herself, maybe it wasn't going to be so cold up here after all.

 

[Armphid]

Tirion had a powerful presence, Jas would say that for the man. And his plan wasn't a bad one either; mass assaults against the Scourge were a bad idea. But training games? It seemed a little weird but not a bad idea necessarily either. The Crusade had clearly thrown all their considerable resources into this place. "It's almost a pity," Jas said, shaking his head. "My best moves aren't in combat."

The big Draenei on his right laughed, though the blond human just rolled her eyes. "You I like, my druidic friend," the brawny alien said with a grin. He clapped Jas on the shoulder, "Perhaps we will see each other in this training, yes?"

"Count on it, big guy," Jas grinned back, "I'm not sure about all this tournament stuff but a druid should be part of restoring balance here; by clawing The Lich King limb from limb."

"How charmingly sophomoric," the human woman sighed, "Atrios, come on, let's find out what the next step is here." She inclined her head to Jas and then turned and walked away.

"Certainly, Glaisine." The big shaman chuckled and gave Jas a brief wave as he followed the slender warlock towards the stage where Crusaders were giving instructions and asking questions. The Alliance and Horde groups were mingling with themselves, introductions being made, old acquaintances renewed, friends greeting one another. Glances and looks were cast over at the other faction, some hostile, some speculative, some measuring, some appreciative.

But with two exceptions, none of them were interacting with one another. At the edge of the self imposed "border" between the two groups, a dark haired young human man dressed robes of muted reds was talking in soft tones to a gaunt yet lush Forsaken woman with stringy greenish hair but a fair face, clad in similar robes that were a worn off-white color. There was some tension between them but they also seemed to be speaking as people who already knew one another.

There was a story there. Jas wondered what it was, maybe he'd go over and find out. He started to walk that way, closing the space rapidly with his long strides but then quick movement drew his eyes to the right. His softly glowing eyes widened as he took in the lusciously leather clad body that had caught up to him, a coy smile on sweet lips and a warm, beckoning expression in silver eyes, “Oh hey there...You look like you could use a group.”

Elune, her voice alone sent a happy shiver through him; warm and sensual and hinting at all sorts of delights. Those eyes seemed to reinforce those hints. Jas looked down at the night elf woman and made a soft, appreciative growl deep in his throat. Elune's perky tits, she was gorgeous. Lovely face with sultry, smirking lips and playful, warm eyes, a figure curvy and slender all at once, offered up magnificently by that leather...damn.

He stopped and turned to face her, smiling and making no hint of his visual inspection and admiration. "Definitely. It is dangerous to be alone up here, not to mention cold." The feral adventurer let his eyes travel over her again and raised his brows, "I'd be glad to be part of any group you're in. I'm Jasthelas, but Jas is fine. I was just thinking about exploring this place a little and finding a place to warm up."

 

[HotKittygirl]

It seemed Ali's keen instincts were far off the target, what a little ego boost that was when someone gave you a once over like that; at least someone was handsome as this druid was. The look upon his face only caused that smile to drift wider, tilting at the right into a lopsided, confident smirk. The shimmering depths of her silvery gaze swept out over him in turn, taking in the undeniable definintion underneath his own equally skin tight leather. Well, at least they already had something in common.

He nibble her invitation and with relish chomped down upon it, now all she had to do was reel in her catch. With a gentle bout of laughter those lips parted, for a brief moment the tip of her tongue darted out over her plush lips before she finally spoke.

“Well, Jas. We could always use the help of a druid in our little group. I'm Ali'sundra. But you can call me Ali. Over there is Kiyunda and Terha. Don't worry, their bark is far worse than their bite. Unless you're horde or undead.”

The mirth in her tone was undeiable as she pointed towards the plate wearing night elf and draenei still near the bleachers. The dark skinned draenei caught sight of such and offered an inviting wave of her hand, even as the short haired night elf seemed more agitated than excited. Nevertheless, as soon as the introductions were issued Ali's attention fully settled upon Jas before her, a undeniably knowing look appearing upon that angular, beautiful visage.

“Well enough of that. Let's get to know each other, hm? Just where can we go to warm up?” Those expressive brows arched curiously as she took a step closer and easily slid her arm into his own, tossing her cloak back over her shoulders to expose that sinful frame all the more. There was no denying the shapely swell of those hips, nor the numerous and deadly implements of poking and slashing that dangled from them.

 

[Armphid]

Jas felt warmer already, in one particular way at least, as the deadly beauty looked him over with an open boldness that made his grin widen. Her confident, sultry smirk only helped matters; assuming she wasn't going to kill him, he was pretty sure he was going to like her a lot.

He wasn't expecting trouble but he hadn't been an adventurer this long by being careless or stupid. Pouncing on solo enemies was something he'd done plenty of himself. He hoped they'd be pouncing on one another in a different fashion and was teasing him with just that but best to not let his guard down too much.

She indicated her companions and he couldn't help but smile even broader, almost feeling like he was about to crack his jaw. Her companions were both striking women as well, though little could be seen of the night elf with the mammoth sword at the moment, her cloak hiding her. Kiyunda, at least he thought so, it was a night elf name, didn't look too happy to see him. He'd have to try and win her over later.

The draenei woman, Terha, was friendlier in her wave and a slight smile. Elune, she was also wearing armor that exposed more of her dark, smooth, shapely form that he'd have imagined seeing so openly this far north. Her curves were ample and enticingly displayed; her protection seeming to offer her up as much or more than it guarded her. And she seemed to notice the cold at all which was interesting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ali, and a greater one to know you, I'm sure," he replied. He held his hand up to greet the other two as well, "Jas Bearmantle at your service, ladies."

Before either of the other two could respond, Ali had turned on him with a sly and knowing look on that pretty face. It sent another warm rush through him, largely in one general direction, and he felt a sudden energetic restlessness. "That is an excellent suggestion, Ali." With her cloak thrown back her lush yet slender form was on full display and there was an appreciative rumble deep in his chest. Her leathers both revealed the lustful perfection of her figure while completely obscuring it and teasing the imagination; a potent combination. His eyes did note the array of weaponry she carried as well. "Formidable equipment you have there," he said as his eyes slid back up to meet hers, "and impressive. Perhaps I can inspect it once we get out of the weather."

He turned with her, savoring the feel of her lithe form so close to him. The crowd had started to break up as a human woman with brown hair, clad in hard plate armor and astride a massive horse in full barding instructed them on where to go. Both mount and rider blazed with holy power; flickering tendrils of energy rising off of them. Her gaze fell on Ali and Jas and she smiled, nudging her mount over to them and bowing from the saddle, "I am Justicar Muriel Trueheart," she said. She cleared her throat and started to speak again, the words clearly a speech though also ringing very honest, "We have invited you here to test your skill and valor against others who have bravely opposed the Scourge. Many have been our divisions, but the time has-"

"Justicar Trueheart," Jas interrupted, the woman blinking at him as he did so, "We do understand why we're here. I'm sorry to interrupt but it was a long journey. Before we begin our training, may I know where we'll be staying?" The druid smiled in as charming a fashion as he could, "I know I want to be at my best when the training starts."

Muriel looked a bit taken aback but not insulted, "Ah, yes. Certainly." She made a gesture around to the north side of the Coliseum. "If you follow around you will find the large Alliance tent that will be the base for your efforts here. Behind it are a number of tents that have prepared to house you; all are stout and very warm when closed up, with a stove for heat and for cooking. You may use any tent there not yet claimed; within each is a placard, simply put your name on it and hang it on the post in front of the tent's platform."

The druid inclined his head, "Thank you, Justicar. We won't take up any more of your time." The tall man murmured in Darnassian to his companion, "I didn't feel like another speech, hope you don't mind. Let's find a tent, shall we?"

 

[HotKittygirl]

Both seemed equally keen to be rid of the cold and to find a certain suitable warmth only two bodies could provide. Ali was brash and forward, blunt to a point of rudeness, sarcastic and down right mean sometimes, but she could just as easily be charming and witty, sultry and smoldering (at least when it suited her). Jas had a handsome face and the chiseled body she liked in her men, if she didn't have to kill him she was pretty sure she was going to like him a lot.

Brief introductions were made to the rest of the party, though before either could really get a word in Ali had dragged him off, though it seemed right into the awaiting arms of another one of those argent crusaders. Ali knew all about The Light and its holiness and the power its followers wielded. But they were a bit zealous for her liking. She hadn't ventured to Northrend out of any sense of duty or honor, unlike some of her companions, it had always been about one thing with her, profit!

Perhaps she should have been born a goblin, after all she enjoyed two of their favorite past times, blowing things up and making a profit, preferably by blowing things up. But at the moment, Jas was coming in far ahead of either, at least...well...for the moment. Clearly her mind wasn't working on its highest cylinder at the moment, but with a handsome slab of druid like Jas on her arm, could she really be expected to?

Thankfully he cut the woman's speech short and with far more tact than Ali would have been able to manage he asked just where they would be staying. It was music to those upswept, elongated ears and she couldn't help but peer about to spot the Alliance tent. With a wide and knowing grin, like some child who just got a piece of candy, Ali sauntered off with Jas in tow. She made sure he saw that ripe, lush frame as they walked, taking care not to be too obvious, but more than once her hip brushed against his 'unintentionally'. Ali cocked a single brow and that smile drifted into a lopsided smirk before he let fly a husky giggle.

“Oh I got all kinds of equipment you haven't seen yet,” She almost purred the words as they approached the literal tent city that cropped up behind the impressive Alliance headquarters on the tourney grounds. “You have to be careful though. Some of it is quite...deadly when handled improperly.”

Her tone dipped as she spoke, a hint of something, perhaps a threat, it was hard to tell; even the look upon her face promised several things as once.

 

[Armphid]

Ali's wide grin as they set off to find a tent made his blood race in his veins and he felt the animal within him stirring; not with the readiness to fight or hunt as usual, or the unmitigated joy of flight or underwater exploration, but with the most primal urge of all.

She started off first, bringing him in two for the first few strides, and letting him see the way her ass moved under those tight, body hugging leathers. The motion of that sweet, teasing body was right in all the best and wrong ways; promising delights for them both.

He'd have to get back to this Tournament after he and Ali had gotten to know another well; very well and several times, if he was fortunate. Jas had come to Northrend for a number of reasons; primarily seeing and exploring a place he'd never been to before. It was the same reason he'd snuck into the badlands of Durotar and stalked through Tirisfal Glades on the panthers's padded feet; he loved to find new places and see and do new things. And people.

But the Scourge were a threat to not just the sentient peoples of Azeroth but to nature itself. As tied into nature as he was, his form often that of a beast, he felt a primitive and deep seated hatred of them. They should not be. If he could take a part in getting rid of them, then he'd take it.

But that was later. Now there was life and a beautiful and lethal woman to enjoy. He chuckled at her response to him, though his eyes may have narrowed a little. Yes, she was lethal, he was sure of that. Going with her like this was dangerous...but that was part of what made it fun. "I've never been accused of mishandling equipment before, though I don't know that I've had such fine examples to work with."

He shifted a bit, his armor feeling far too tight and constraining around this woman. Everything she said and did made him want out of it more. "I don't intend either of us to die today though, save for a number of happy, little deaths," he grinned.

He spied a tent without a placard on the short pole out front. "That looks promising." It was made of layers of fabric, the outermost a thick and treated canvas; of a circular design with a tall center pole that protruded from the top to have a small pennant waving overhead. The whole tent was set up on a round wooden platform with two steps leading up to it, lifting the whole thing off of the frigid ground and its' wicked chill.

One clever, dextrous hand undid the knots holding the flap closed and he then lifted it to look inside. "It seems to be unclaimed. If it suits you, why don't we take this one? I want to get out of...the cold, as soon as may be."