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CLOSED TO ZENITH | A CALL TO ARMS
[ ooc; Be sure to mind the content warnings and feel free to tell him to go pound sand if you want because he sucks. ]
[ Not long after Harmonising to Zenith, an unfamiliar presence reaches out in Communion — but only to those souls who have made the same choice.
The undead Scourge upon Azeroth had once felt the same presence in what remained of their minds, sharp and painful in its abruptness like an icy lance to the back of the skull. His powers are diminished considerably in the absence of Frostmourne, so his voice no longer compels other souls to obey, but Arthas speaks as if issuing a command nonetheless. ]
Greetings, Zenites. I am Arthas, the Lich King; Death itself comes to aid you in this war. Know that I reserve my words for only those who have made the right choice, so let us speak now of the future.
[ It would be correct to assume there is an unspoken implication that something else is in store for those who have not made the right choice; he has other plans for an introduction to the enemy. ]
I understand the difficulty of delivering an inevitable but undesirable truth to those who would prefer to deny it. I know you must have the courage to do whatever it takes to protect what can be saved. Those of you who believe you have that courage, present yourselves to me.
[ An odd gentleness tinges his voice, brought about by sympathy for their shared burden. He understands. This is an old conflict he's fought before taking on a new form — Meridian and Zenith, Light and Shadow, Life and Death. ]
The rest of you should pray we never meet on the battlefield.
[ The iciness returns. Arthas has no room for weakness, and neither should Zenith, in his opinion, not that anyone asked.
Anyone who chooses to ignore him will experience nothing further once the chill recedes, but the Communion shifts for any who decide to respond, details forming out of dense fog until you find yourself standing upon the spire of ice known as the Frozen Throne. He had been so much a part of it once his mind recreates it easily. Every so often, the howling wind sounds more like tortured voices or frantic shrieks than a mimicry of the rush of air at a high altitude. Given what this place really is, it's probably fine.
Besides the eeriness of his undead state, Arthas sits upon his throne with a confidence that goes beyond arrogance — it is the surety of a man who knows he was born to rule over other men, still a king in his own mind, even if his world is dead and gone.
Every soul was gone, too. His father. Uther. Jaina, Arthas realises with a pang of painful sadness reserved only for her, buried too deep and distant to show on his face this time. All of them gone; all of them lost to Oblivion. Even the Holy Light hadn't saved them for all of their supposed righteousness. Something ugly inside him relishes the thought, and Arthas smiles unpleasantly, leering down at whoever has come to treat with him. He has never been one for subtlety, but he doesn't believe anything about a king should ever be subtle. ]
[ Not long after Harmonising to Zenith, an unfamiliar presence reaches out in Communion — but only to those souls who have made the same choice.
The undead Scourge upon Azeroth had once felt the same presence in what remained of their minds, sharp and painful in its abruptness like an icy lance to the back of the skull. His powers are diminished considerably in the absence of Frostmourne, so his voice no longer compels other souls to obey, but Arthas speaks as if issuing a command nonetheless. ]
Greetings, Zenites. I am Arthas, the Lich King; Death itself comes to aid you in this war. Know that I reserve my words for only those who have made the right choice, so let us speak now of the future.
[ It would be correct to assume there is an unspoken implication that something else is in store for those who have not made the right choice; he has other plans for an introduction to the enemy. ]
I understand the difficulty of delivering an inevitable but undesirable truth to those who would prefer to deny it. I know you must have the courage to do whatever it takes to protect what can be saved. Those of you who believe you have that courage, present yourselves to me.
[ An odd gentleness tinges his voice, brought about by sympathy for their shared burden. He understands. This is an old conflict he's fought before taking on a new form — Meridian and Zenith, Light and Shadow, Life and Death. ]
The rest of you should pray we never meet on the battlefield.
[ The iciness returns. Arthas has no room for weakness, and neither should Zenith, in his opinion, not that anyone asked.
Anyone who chooses to ignore him will experience nothing further once the chill recedes, but the Communion shifts for any who decide to respond, details forming out of dense fog until you find yourself standing upon the spire of ice known as the Frozen Throne. He had been so much a part of it once his mind recreates it easily. Every so often, the howling wind sounds more like tortured voices or frantic shrieks than a mimicry of the rush of air at a high altitude. Given what this place really is, it's probably fine.
Besides the eeriness of his undead state, Arthas sits upon his throne with a confidence that goes beyond arrogance — it is the surety of a man who knows he was born to rule over other men, still a king in his own mind, even if his world is dead and gone.
Every soul was gone, too. His father. Uther. Jaina, Arthas realises with a pang of painful sadness reserved only for her, buried too deep and distant to show on his face this time. All of them gone; all of them lost to Oblivion. Even the Holy Light hadn't saved them for all of their supposed righteousness. Something ugly inside him relishes the thought, and Arthas smiles unpleasantly, leering down at whoever has come to treat with him. He has never been one for subtlety, but he doesn't believe anything about a king should ever be subtle. ]
no subject
His presence is felt as harsh static and heat before it finally manifests into the form of a man in black armor, long golden hair swaying behind him. Yuber's aura of power hangs above the dais of the Frozen Throne though, like Arthas, his abilities have been diminished since arriving in Kenos.
He looks up at the Lich King, eyes obscured behind his helmet and a snake-like grin arching his lips.]
I think you will find those of us who line up with Zenith have plenty of courage. The weak-minded are aligned to Meridian, clinging to their pretty memories.
no subject
Well, it would seem Zenith has a particular preference when choosing its champions.
[ The dark armour, the hair — although, he observes, Yuber's is far longer, like that of an elf — the same predatory smile... ]
That is heartening news; the Light blinds the Meridian to the truth, and its faithful are no doubt as formidable in Kenos as they were in my world.
[ Arthas automatically assumed that Meridian's sun and the Holy Light he once called upon are one and the same, which made Skysong an even more unappealing destination upon arrival. It doesn't matter if they aren't; he will kill them no matter what flavour of light they beg for salvation. ]
In another time, I might've pitied them, but my understanding is that time is running short, so I have no time for obstacles. I have given too much to let any one of them stand between me and the kingdom I will build in our new world.
[ The resolve in his words stirs a chill wind that flash freezes the meltwater into crystals in an instant and rises as a buffer against the aura of heat. He knows it's not air that grows turbulent where hot and cold meet in this mental space where souls bleed into one another. ]
no subject
Coming alongside him are flickers of annoyance and exasperation. He's here because yes, "protect what can be saved" is a concise summary of his intent with Zenith, but also because this dude sounds insufferable and Yusuke isn't about to just let him yap without clapping back at least a little. This whole throne shit is so over the top, man...]
Nobody here's gotta prove themselves to you. [He doesn't know what a lich is. But Death keeps fumbling the bag when it tries to come for him, so. suck it.] If you've got a point, get to it already.
no subject
[ When he made this open call for souls to rise to the occasion, he had had a particular image in mind, and it wasn't shitty teenagers. Arthas was once a shitty teenager himself, so like recognises like, but that does not make the presence irritate him any less. ]
I am seeking souls who will let nothing stand between them and victory. There are no half-measures in death. There can be no mercy for Meridian, or all is lost.
[ Shitty teenager or not, Arthas does not regard Yusuke any differently now that he has gotten past the strange, frenetic energy. People his age went off to war all the time! ]
So, the question remains: will you be a hero who ushers in a new era, or will you be a spineless coward?
[ That's something shaped like a choice; if they ask him one day if he gave people a choice, he can say yes. ]
no subject
[There is a not-subtle edge of derision. He is absolutely the shittiest of teenagers.]
You sure you don't belong in Meridian? I ain't here for all that grandstanding bullshit. They might care more about kings and heroes and [he makes a vague mental gesture at the appearance of the Frozen Throne] whatever the hell this is over there.
I'm here to fight. That's it.