((Excellent summary of the events! I'm honored that I got to take part in what I consider the most epic RP battle I've seen to date!))
Hitting Where It Hurts
((Wish I could've been there, all things considered... all I can do is this little bit showing where Jon and Donovan were in all this mess.))
Jonathan stared from the shadows, twitching with anticipation. It was here... somewhere. The entrance to the Modas' sanctum, and he'd been called out to take over for Kordrion to keep an eye on it. In a way, it was boring. But the knowledge of just how close they really were to getting inside the Modas' famous Sanctuary kept any complaints from Jonathan's mind. After all the years of horror, they were this close to bringing them to justice. Jon had become so lost in thought, that when something finally happened, Jonathan nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Come now, my boy... what are you doing in a bleak place like this on a day like today?"
Jonathan whirled about to seek the source of that sickening, familiar voice. There, up on the walls above, stood the owner. Donovan Harmarth... his father. Donovan stared down precisely at where Jonathan had concealed himself, stared with the empty sockets that no longer held any sight of their own. Jonathan quickly reached for a dagger tucked into his shoulder. He'd have liked to get his hands on him, but he knew that he couldn't teleport that distance. With a snarl, Jonathan hurled the projectile.
As it neared, Donovan shook his head sadly, and disappaered in a puff of green flames only to appear elsewhere on the wall nearby. "Such hostility... I only came to talk, son."
"My father died 30 years ago. All I see is Modas scum using his corpse." Noticing an ever-so-slight shift in the wind, Jonathan casually tossed another dagger behind him, resulting in a high-pitched, squealing yelp. "Besides, you're a bad liar."
Donovan scowled. "Regardless, I see you've managed to shake off the effects of my little elixir. But that still leaves my question unanswered."
Jonathan stared up at the Forsaken. "Trying to enjoy the scenery." This drew an even deeper scowl from the warlock above. A fireball danced to life in his outstretched palm.
"Really now, son, and you accuse ME of being a bad liar? Run along, pup." With a flick, Donovan sent the fireball hurtling at the rogue Worgen.
Jonathan ducked and curled into himself, teleporting away from the attack, reappearing in a puff of dark smoke some feet away before leaping to the wall that Donovan stood on, beginning to climb. As he reached the top however, Donovan teleported once more, appearing an a separate wall some distance away.
"Really now, Jonathan, I know your tricks. I'd be a pretty poor father if I didn't."
"And trying to kill your whole family doesn't qualify you?"
"Details." Donovan shook his head. "Come on now, don't you have more productive things to be doing? Friends to look out for and all that?"
Jonathan snarled. This was a bad place to pick a fight. Too many ways for the warlock to slip away from him, too many vantage points from which to hurl spells. His presence here alone only leant further merit to the Sanctuary being nearby... for now, that would do. "The next time we meet, your head is mine." Jonathan declared, retreating into the shadows.
Donovan's taunting laughter followed.
***
It was nearly a full day before he checked back in with the others. When at last he did, Kordrion's pained voice called him to the Peak. Jonathan inquired as to what was going on, wondering if something had happened to Kord while he'd been out. The words that followed chilled him to the core...
"Modas has attacked the Pillar of Honor. Their headquarters were burned in felfire."
Jonathan stared from the shadows, twitching with anticipation. It was here... somewhere. The entrance to the Modas' sanctum, and he'd been called out to take over for Kordrion to keep an eye on it. In a way, it was boring. But the knowledge of just how close they really were to getting inside the Modas' famous Sanctuary kept any complaints from Jonathan's mind. After all the years of horror, they were this close to bringing them to justice. Jon had become so lost in thought, that when something finally happened, Jonathan nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Come now, my boy... what are you doing in a bleak place like this on a day like today?"
Jonathan whirled about to seek the source of that sickening, familiar voice. There, up on the walls above, stood the owner. Donovan Harmarth... his father. Donovan stared down precisely at where Jonathan had concealed himself, stared with the empty sockets that no longer held any sight of their own. Jonathan quickly reached for a dagger tucked into his shoulder. He'd have liked to get his hands on him, but he knew that he couldn't teleport that distance. With a snarl, Jonathan hurled the projectile.
As it neared, Donovan shook his head sadly, and disappaered in a puff of green flames only to appear elsewhere on the wall nearby. "Such hostility... I only came to talk, son."
"My father died 30 years ago. All I see is Modas scum using his corpse." Noticing an ever-so-slight shift in the wind, Jonathan casually tossed another dagger behind him, resulting in a high-pitched, squealing yelp. "Besides, you're a bad liar."
Donovan scowled. "Regardless, I see you've managed to shake off the effects of my little elixir. But that still leaves my question unanswered."
Jonathan stared up at the Forsaken. "Trying to enjoy the scenery." This drew an even deeper scowl from the warlock above. A fireball danced to life in his outstretched palm.
"Really now, son, and you accuse ME of being a bad liar? Run along, pup." With a flick, Donovan sent the fireball hurtling at the rogue Worgen.
Jonathan ducked and curled into himself, teleporting away from the attack, reappearing in a puff of dark smoke some feet away before leaping to the wall that Donovan stood on, beginning to climb. As he reached the top however, Donovan teleported once more, appearing an a separate wall some distance away.
"Really now, Jonathan, I know your tricks. I'd be a pretty poor father if I didn't."
"And trying to kill your whole family doesn't qualify you?"
"Details." Donovan shook his head. "Come on now, don't you have more productive things to be doing? Friends to look out for and all that?"
Jonathan snarled. This was a bad place to pick a fight. Too many ways for the warlock to slip away from him, too many vantage points from which to hurl spells. His presence here alone only leant further merit to the Sanctuary being nearby... for now, that would do. "The next time we meet, your head is mine." Jonathan declared, retreating into the shadows.
Donovan's taunting laughter followed.
***
It was nearly a full day before he checked back in with the others. When at last he did, Kordrion's pained voice called him to the Peak. Jonathan inquired as to what was going on, wondering if something had happened to Kord while he'd been out. The words that followed chilled him to the core...
"Modas has attacked the Pillar of Honor. Their headquarters were burned in felfire."
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