[NSFW IC Journal - Ezidran] Corrosion (Day 3)
((For Author's Note: For warnings and author's notes, please click here. This is part of the 'disease' event plot, credits to go Talah Eburi for organizing this awesome server-wide event. Warning: Coarse language, Extreme Violence & Gore, Sexual Themes, Implied Non-Con, Cannibalism.
Day 1 - Fleeting Phantoms
Day 2 (Part 1) - His Cats; You Cannot Forget It.
Day 2 (Part 2) - The Letter
Day 3 - Corrosion
Disclaimer: This entry is quite triggery and may contain very sensitive/controversial matters. Please see warning. Ezidran has come a long way and has encountered many unsightly experiences in the span of 250 years of his life and also as a Scourge death knight. Writing gore and violence and such subject matters does not mean I advocate them IRL. This is only fiction. Hence I am locking this post to friends only. ))
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[NSFW IC Journal - Ezidran] Corrosion (Day 3)
Another day, the shipment of the vaccines have not arrived yet. The Crusaders are getting restless and had sent men out to search for the courier from Dalaran Center of Disease Control for the shipment. Even in the summer, Northrend was a vicious, chilling place to travel, anything worst could happen to travellers.
Hallucinations had not been returning. Ezidran's heart and mind were put to ease, comforted by fond memories, endearing mementos of his former lovers and most of all - Dynast's letter and gifts. However, the crisis had not been averted. Poison of the mind cannot be put to rest easily with just brief moments of happiness.
For hours, he gazed and held the mementos lovingly in his palms. They were not enough to soothe the nightmares.
As he kept the mementos back into the box carefully, a startling chill crept up to his spine. What was that? Was there something else in the cell?
Ezidran twitched his nose, even dead as he was, the Discipline of Blood had granted him the boon of tracking down scent of blood to his favor. What he had smelled was not just blood, but a scent of death creeping into the cell, like tendrils of a Forgotten one crawling and devouring the place. The air stilled. He thought had heard distorted noises of a serpent hissing too.
There was a flash, like a lightning had struck across the sky. There were no windows, however. But a clear stark flash had happened in the cell. The Death Knight glanced around himself, only find himself sitting in a rusted, corroding sort of room. As if years had ate and rotted off the walls, blood caked to the carpets and sickness had grasped at the air in the room.
No, this isn't even his cell anymore. TAKE ME BACK!
"Go away, go away! N-No, go away!" Ezidran shut his eyes tight, gripping to his own head as he howled for the visions to leave.
Once he opened his eyes, the room he was in had disappeared. But what he had about to see made him regret opening his eyes - A massive serpent laid before him, jaws wide and unhinged and was swallowing something. Someone.
Fear had struck him so bad that he could not move, his eyes wide in horror as he watched the serpent slowly devour a... human being. No, not just any human being - A pregnant, limbless woman. Her head was deep into the serpent's mouth already, it was difficult to recognize who the woman was. But the sickening wet noises of the serpent's feeding made him nauseous, blood poured endlessly from the woman's severed limbs, exposing bones and soft flesh protruding out from the clean cut.
What made his expression contort into a mortified one was her bloated belly - An intact womb, carrying a precious life inside. So pitifully, devoured away as well.
"LORD, NO! FUCK! NOT REAL!" The Death Knight howled in horror, fighting within his restraints. "Not real-- FUCK, YOU MONSTER!"
Ezidran's icy blue eyes flared open in anger as he hissed back at the serpent. He picked himself up on his feet, attempting to assault the serpent with his bare hands, only to be held by the chains bound to his ankles and wrists. The shackles yanked him back to his spot, he snarled and growled like a wild animal trapped within his confines.
A cold, sinister laughter from behind mocked him for he was helpless to do anything about the atrocity right before him. Two lives gone, just like that.
"Wasn't that fascinating to watch?" The mocking voice spoke. "Interesting observation - Look at the beast, how he severed the expectant mother's limbs to stop her from running and struggling so he could feed on her in peace. He is certainly cunning, clever... And cruel in his hunt. Worth noting it as a discovery."
"IT'S A MONSTER, YA FUCKING SICK IN THE HEAD OR WHAT?!" Ezidran responded angrily. He did not even care who the voice belonged to anyway.
"No, it is just an observation, for research, it is what I do," The voice replied, rather smilingly.
Ezidran turned to look behind him. Eerily, the mocking voice belonged to a man, resembling Dynast but a different expression had etched onto his visage. He looked disturbingly calm, composed, yet a smug smile creeps slowly on his lips. The Death Knight could not even recognize him, only confronting this... Dynast-imposter with hostility and hatred.
"My, why the sour face? I am merely stating this is what I do, it is a fact," the imposter continued, glancing down at Ezidran like he was a specimen, too.
"Who the fuck are ya?" Ezidran hissed back.
"Someone. Who can distinguish what is worth studying and what is worth killing off when useless."
The man narrowed his eyes down back at the Death Knight, smirking. "Look at yourself. You should just surrender yourself to the Crusaders. Let them cut you open and study you for the 'disease'. No wonder he was so disgusted with you."
"Shut up... SHUT UP!" Clamming his hands to his ears, he screamed over and over.
Until the man was gone, the serpent was gone. The room was back to normal. There was no one else there.
If the dead man could cry, he would be in fitting sobs by now. He could not, he could only keep it to himself.
For the next hour, he curled up in the corner, balling his fists up in a tensed manner and huddled to himself.
---
For the past hour and a half, Zaifar had been watching the Death Knight howl, twist in his chains and screamed at no one in particular. The Forsaken Priest had no idea who he was cursing at but he had begun to worry about Ezidran's sanity. Ezidran was a man plagued with many tragic histories and nightmares, his past lingered in his mind like venom slowly eating away in bloodstream.
There was not much Zaifar and the Crusaders could do to ease the poor old elf's hysteria. All attempts at talking to him and reaching out to him had been ignored, like the death knight did not know they existed.
The man had finally calmed down and curled back into his usual corner, mumbling to himself. Zaifar sighed in relief, watching him helplessly on the other side of the cell. "The shipment needs to arrive soon."
"YES. THIS IS FUCKING STUPID TO WATCH." The Blood Knight by his side grumbled. "I CANNOT STAND HERE AND WAIT. I AM JUST GOING TO DALARAN AND SNAG THE DAMN VACCINE. HE IS NO STATE TO ASK FOR PERMISSION TOO. SO I'M GOING TO GO TO HIS APARTMENT AND TAKE HIS FLOWERS."
"Take his flowers?" Zaifar raised an eyebrow at the paladin.
"DYNAST NEEDS A PURPLE LOTUS. RAVENLOTH HAS TONS. STEALING HIS FLOWERS NOW." Zain threw his hands up and stormed off from the cell.
"I suppose..." Zaifar quietly mulled over the thought of Zain barging into Ezidran's home and stealing pots of herbs and flowers.
As Zain had left, more soldiers arrived, signalling for Zaifar. "Mender Skygrave, I think the courier has arrived and there are things he want to discuss with you."
"Oh? I will be right there."
---
A firm hand caressed Ezidran on the shoulder as he laid cold, huddling to himself on the steel floor of the prison cells. His eyes lifted, gazing at the gloved hand patting his shoulder.
"Who's t'ere?"
Crouched before him was an imposing silhouette of a man, crouched near him. The outline of his armor was familiar, reminisce of a proud Sin'dorei spellbreaker. He had military stature of an experienced soldier, green stern eyes gazing down at him and long black hair, just like him. Except the man was not him. Despite that, the hand on Ezidran's shoulder was reassuring.
"Father," the man finally said his first word.
"Arjhan...?" Ezidran responded, in a quiet, hoarse voice. All the screaming and howl had strained his vocal chords.
"Father, why did you abandon me? I had been waiting for you at Netherstorm..." The man continued, his voice sounded sad.
"I didn't abandon ya, son," he whimpered. "D'ya come ta visit me? I'm so sorry... I'll make it up ta ya, Arjhan."
"I have been waiting for a long time... You never came. You left me to die..."
I'm so sorry...
Ezidran almost broke down, whimpering tearfully. He turned to grasp at the gloved hand on his shoulder. When he managed to get a clearer view of the man, it was his son, adorned in his black spellbreaker uniform. Something was amiss until he saw the grotesque gash across the young elf's eyes, trickling copious amount of blood down his face like a crimson, bloodied mask.
"Yer bleeding, let me help ya wipe that off..." Ezidran smiled, eyes gazing up at his son as he lifted his hands to wipe the blood off his face. Blood only seeped even more from the laceration across his eyes.
"Are you coming back for me?"
"Aye, I'm comin' back for ya."
"Join me, Father."
The spellbreaker took his hand off Ezidran's shoulder and produced a sharp bladed glaive from his back. As Ezidran watched in bafflement, the man swung the glaive right down for him, screaming. "JOIN ME, FATHER!"
Ezidran had barely any time to dodge as the blade aimed for him, he clasped it in between two palms before it could stab right through his face. He fought and struggled against the glaive pushing through his hands, snarling and biting down on his lip while the other man tried to force it down.
"Stop struggling, Father! We could be reunited again!" The assailant pleaded while he pushed all his might to attack Ezidran.
"No... No... I will not die," Ezidran gritted on his teeth, fighting back the blade coming down for him. "Arjhan isn't dead yet!"
The assault stopped. The man withdrew his blade and stood up, glaring down at Ezidran. Bizarre things happened - strips of flesh begin to peel off from the man's skin. Like a butterfly metamorphosing from its cocoon, a new figure emerged from the flesh peeling away, strange noises of the winter horns rung in his head as the figure stepped out of its 'shell'. What Ezidran saw before him scared him even more, causing him to retract into a corner in fear - It was himself.
He tried to scream but no voice came out from his lips. As the doppelganger of himself approached him, he smirked, baring yellowed crooked teeth at him. Ezidran couldn't feel his arms nor legs anymore, frozen in his spot.
What seemed to be a tender touch, almost felt chilling on his skin as the doppelganger brushed his plated finger along Ezidran's cheeks, smiling, taunting him viciously. His icy voice gripped Ezidran in a chilling hold of death, he spoke in Scourge: "You didn't let me down, master. I thought you would let yourself die. I'd be all alone."
M-Master...?
"Allow me to remind you," he hissed, in a beastly manner. For a second, Ezidran thought he came face to face with a serpent.
The doppelganger held his runeblade in his hands, the same runeblade he and Dynast had worked hard together to get it forged to help him in his condition - The Jormungar. With a flick of his wrist, the deathly blade grazed across Ezidran's flesh, splattering black ichor across the walls. Ezidran opened his mouth to scream, still not a sound came out.
"You know what it would be fun?" The Scourge doppelganger continued, pleased with his deed. "Letting you know what a monster you were when you were me."
I don't understand.
My favorite pastime? Was cutting limbs part. Don't let them run. No one runs from me.
I don't understand!
No one struggles from me. No one fights against me when I defile them.
Stop.
Eat. EAT. EaT. EAT THEIR FLESH.
Stop it!
Stop them from squirming, stop them from crying, make sure they lie down still, naked. Make sure they lie down flat while I eAT them from inside out. So delicious. Eat. EAT. eat. eAT. The heart, the liver, the tender firm flesh and blood in my mouth. Eat, EAT, eat, so hungry.
Oh lord...
Dynast could've been delicious. Could've so delicious to taste. So hungry... Why did he run from me? Maybe I should've cut his limbs off, left him as a torso so he couldn't run.
Oh lord, no... No...
We could be together forever...
I hope so... Just not like this.
Eat.
EAT.
So hungry.
Ezidran roared in pain, shaking and thrashed about like a wild beast within the chains. The chilling tone of his doppelganger's voice seemed to have brought the cell's temperature down to zero, as the icy blade of Jormungar cut into his flesh, splitting out sutures, reopening old wounds to gush out all the ichor from their bloodied hems. With surgical precision, he carved a mark, resembling a blood rune, into Ezidran's chest. Deep lacerations were made to define the mark, it had been sunken deeply to make sure it was enough to reveal the deadened heart beneath it.
Make it stop!
I'm here to help. To help all your heartache. To help you EAT.
Helplessly, the Death Knight twisted in agony as the doppelganger resumed his work. He felt his flesh stripped bare, nerves exposed to the cool air painfully, felt like it was on fire. The blade traveled to his abdomen slowly, ripping apart every fiber of his exposed muscles and soft, squishy orifices deep inside. Cruelly, the doppelganger plunged his plated gauntlet right into his chest and grasped something firm and hard and bloody. Could it be his heart?
Ezidran choked on his own bile and ichor, refusing to give in to the pain and glared back at the man. "Fuck you."
"Fuck you too," He smirked, removing his hand slowly from his form, the sickeningly wet noises and blood pouring had been unbearable. He backed away and faded away into the thin air.
Ezidran was left lying in his own pool of blood, gasping for the stale air even though he knew oxygen did nothing for him. Almost instinctively, he clutched to his gushing wounds, foolishly trying to stop the blood from pouring out and his sutures from falling apart. Just when he thought the storm was over, he felt something slithering in his chest, tightly wrapping around his heart. Agony gripped to his chest, he felt like something was trying to escape within him.
It hurts... It hurts....
Abruptly, a fanged serpent burst open from the carved mark on his chest. Disturbingly hissing and struggling to eat its way out of his flesh, the serpent tried to wrap itself around Ezidran's form from his insides and take over him. The Death Knight howled in pain, with all his might, he broke his arms off the chains and forcefully pried his chest open. Splitting all the sutures that had sealed his chest close, he ripped his heart out where the serpent coiled around on.
Disgusted, he tossed his heart and the serpent around it across the floor and fell back flat on his back where he passed out from the pain.
The serpent withered away in its dying breath and laid motionless on the deadened heart.
---
The Crusaders were panicking, Zaifar himself was in a state of alarm when they witnessed the Death Knight's violent behavior and had ripped out his own heart in distress. They opened the cell doors
"GET THE VACCINE! NOW!" One of the Crusaders yelled as people ran back and forth in the cell hallways.
"Vaccine's here!"
"Get his heart back, handle it carefully! We'll perform a surgery to implant it back in later!"
"Thankfully he is undead, the heart is no vital organ of his form," Zaifar knelt next to the thrashing death knight. "We will worry about the surgery later. Let me administer the vaccine. Be careful not to get yourselves infected."
The Crusaders in resistance suit quickly locked down Ezidran still on the cold cell floors. Zaifar made sure that the syringe needle was fixed tight, right amount of dosages had been administered and calmly, he injected the vaccine into Ezidran's arm.
"I..." Was all Ezidran could manage to say before he fell unconscious, sedated by the vaccine.
"That should do it. According to the DCDC, it should suppress the hallucinations and sedate him for now," Zaifar explained, watching the Death Knight falling into a slumber. "We would need big dosages for him and regularly."
As a trained medic, the Forsaken Priest would not just leave him as that. He examined the Death Knight, he was all right, no injuries except for the gaping hole in his chest where he ripped out his heart from. He glanced back at the severed heart where the Crusaders carefully retrieved and wondered how to perform the implantation again.
"Wonderful," Zaifar sighed to himself. "The hallucinations are getting worse."
Day 1 - Fleeting Phantoms
Day 2 (Part 1) - His Cats; You Cannot Forget It.
Day 2 (Part 2) - The Letter
Day 3 - Corrosion
Disclaimer: This entry is quite triggery and may contain very sensitive/controversial matters. Please see warning. Ezidran has come a long way and has encountered many unsightly experiences in the span of 250 years of his life and also as a Scourge death knight. Writing gore and violence and such subject matters does not mean I advocate them IRL. This is only fiction. Hence I am locking this post to friends only. ))
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[NSFW IC Journal - Ezidran] Corrosion (Day 3)
Another day, the shipment of the vaccines have not arrived yet. The Crusaders are getting restless and had sent men out to search for the courier from Dalaran Center of Disease Control for the shipment. Even in the summer, Northrend was a vicious, chilling place to travel, anything worst could happen to travellers.
Hallucinations had not been returning. Ezidran's heart and mind were put to ease, comforted by fond memories, endearing mementos of his former lovers and most of all - Dynast's letter and gifts. However, the crisis had not been averted. Poison of the mind cannot be put to rest easily with just brief moments of happiness.
For hours, he gazed and held the mementos lovingly in his palms. They were not enough to soothe the nightmares.
As he kept the mementos back into the box carefully, a startling chill crept up to his spine. What was that? Was there something else in the cell?
Ezidran twitched his nose, even dead as he was, the Discipline of Blood had granted him the boon of tracking down scent of blood to his favor. What he had smelled was not just blood, but a scent of death creeping into the cell, like tendrils of a Forgotten one crawling and devouring the place. The air stilled. He thought had heard distorted noises of a serpent hissing too.
There was a flash, like a lightning had struck across the sky. There were no windows, however. But a clear stark flash had happened in the cell. The Death Knight glanced around himself, only find himself sitting in a rusted, corroding sort of room. As if years had ate and rotted off the walls, blood caked to the carpets and sickness had grasped at the air in the room.
No, this isn't even his cell anymore. TAKE ME BACK!
"Go away, go away! N-No, go away!" Ezidran shut his eyes tight, gripping to his own head as he howled for the visions to leave.
Once he opened his eyes, the room he was in had disappeared. But what he had about to see made him regret opening his eyes - A massive serpent laid before him, jaws wide and unhinged and was swallowing something. Someone.
Fear had struck him so bad that he could not move, his eyes wide in horror as he watched the serpent slowly devour a... human being. No, not just any human being - A pregnant, limbless woman. Her head was deep into the serpent's mouth already, it was difficult to recognize who the woman was. But the sickening wet noises of the serpent's feeding made him nauseous, blood poured endlessly from the woman's severed limbs, exposing bones and soft flesh protruding out from the clean cut.
What made his expression contort into a mortified one was her bloated belly - An intact womb, carrying a precious life inside. So pitifully, devoured away as well.
"LORD, NO! FUCK! NOT REAL!" The Death Knight howled in horror, fighting within his restraints. "Not real-- FUCK, YOU MONSTER!"
Ezidran's icy blue eyes flared open in anger as he hissed back at the serpent. He picked himself up on his feet, attempting to assault the serpent with his bare hands, only to be held by the chains bound to his ankles and wrists. The shackles yanked him back to his spot, he snarled and growled like a wild animal trapped within his confines.
A cold, sinister laughter from behind mocked him for he was helpless to do anything about the atrocity right before him. Two lives gone, just like that.
"Wasn't that fascinating to watch?" The mocking voice spoke. "Interesting observation - Look at the beast, how he severed the expectant mother's limbs to stop her from running and struggling so he could feed on her in peace. He is certainly cunning, clever... And cruel in his hunt. Worth noting it as a discovery."
"IT'S A MONSTER, YA FUCKING SICK IN THE HEAD OR WHAT?!" Ezidran responded angrily. He did not even care who the voice belonged to anyway.
"No, it is just an observation, for research, it is what I do," The voice replied, rather smilingly.
Ezidran turned to look behind him. Eerily, the mocking voice belonged to a man, resembling Dynast but a different expression had etched onto his visage. He looked disturbingly calm, composed, yet a smug smile creeps slowly on his lips. The Death Knight could not even recognize him, only confronting this... Dynast-imposter with hostility and hatred.
"My, why the sour face? I am merely stating this is what I do, it is a fact," the imposter continued, glancing down at Ezidran like he was a specimen, too.
"Who the fuck are ya?" Ezidran hissed back.
"Someone. Who can distinguish what is worth studying and what is worth killing off when useless."
The man narrowed his eyes down back at the Death Knight, smirking. "Look at yourself. You should just surrender yourself to the Crusaders. Let them cut you open and study you for the 'disease'. No wonder he was so disgusted with you."
"Shut up... SHUT UP!" Clamming his hands to his ears, he screamed over and over.
Until the man was gone, the serpent was gone. The room was back to normal. There was no one else there.
If the dead man could cry, he would be in fitting sobs by now. He could not, he could only keep it to himself.
For the next hour, he curled up in the corner, balling his fists up in a tensed manner and huddled to himself.
---
For the past hour and a half, Zaifar had been watching the Death Knight howl, twist in his chains and screamed at no one in particular. The Forsaken Priest had no idea who he was cursing at but he had begun to worry about Ezidran's sanity. Ezidran was a man plagued with many tragic histories and nightmares, his past lingered in his mind like venom slowly eating away in bloodstream.
There was not much Zaifar and the Crusaders could do to ease the poor old elf's hysteria. All attempts at talking to him and reaching out to him had been ignored, like the death knight did not know they existed.
The man had finally calmed down and curled back into his usual corner, mumbling to himself. Zaifar sighed in relief, watching him helplessly on the other side of the cell. "The shipment needs to arrive soon."
"YES. THIS IS FUCKING STUPID TO WATCH." The Blood Knight by his side grumbled. "I CANNOT STAND HERE AND WAIT. I AM JUST GOING TO DALARAN AND SNAG THE DAMN VACCINE. HE IS NO STATE TO ASK FOR PERMISSION TOO. SO I'M GOING TO GO TO HIS APARTMENT AND TAKE HIS FLOWERS."
"Take his flowers?" Zaifar raised an eyebrow at the paladin.
"DYNAST NEEDS A PURPLE LOTUS. RAVENLOTH HAS TONS. STEALING HIS FLOWERS NOW." Zain threw his hands up and stormed off from the cell.
"I suppose..." Zaifar quietly mulled over the thought of Zain barging into Ezidran's home and stealing pots of herbs and flowers.
As Zain had left, more soldiers arrived, signalling for Zaifar. "Mender Skygrave, I think the courier has arrived and there are things he want to discuss with you."
"Oh? I will be right there."
---
A firm hand caressed Ezidran on the shoulder as he laid cold, huddling to himself on the steel floor of the prison cells. His eyes lifted, gazing at the gloved hand patting his shoulder.
"Who's t'ere?"
Crouched before him was an imposing silhouette of a man, crouched near him. The outline of his armor was familiar, reminisce of a proud Sin'dorei spellbreaker. He had military stature of an experienced soldier, green stern eyes gazing down at him and long black hair, just like him. Except the man was not him. Despite that, the hand on Ezidran's shoulder was reassuring.
"Father," the man finally said his first word.
"Arjhan...?" Ezidran responded, in a quiet, hoarse voice. All the screaming and howl had strained his vocal chords.
"Father, why did you abandon me? I had been waiting for you at Netherstorm..." The man continued, his voice sounded sad.
"I didn't abandon ya, son," he whimpered. "D'ya come ta visit me? I'm so sorry... I'll make it up ta ya, Arjhan."
"I have been waiting for a long time... You never came. You left me to die..."
I'm so sorry...
Ezidran almost broke down, whimpering tearfully. He turned to grasp at the gloved hand on his shoulder. When he managed to get a clearer view of the man, it was his son, adorned in his black spellbreaker uniform. Something was amiss until he saw the grotesque gash across the young elf's eyes, trickling copious amount of blood down his face like a crimson, bloodied mask.
"Yer bleeding, let me help ya wipe that off..." Ezidran smiled, eyes gazing up at his son as he lifted his hands to wipe the blood off his face. Blood only seeped even more from the laceration across his eyes.
"Are you coming back for me?"
"Aye, I'm comin' back for ya."
"Join me, Father."
The spellbreaker took his hand off Ezidran's shoulder and produced a sharp bladed glaive from his back. As Ezidran watched in bafflement, the man swung the glaive right down for him, screaming. "JOIN ME, FATHER!"
Ezidran had barely any time to dodge as the blade aimed for him, he clasped it in between two palms before it could stab right through his face. He fought and struggled against the glaive pushing through his hands, snarling and biting down on his lip while the other man tried to force it down.
"Stop struggling, Father! We could be reunited again!" The assailant pleaded while he pushed all his might to attack Ezidran.
"No... No... I will not die," Ezidran gritted on his teeth, fighting back the blade coming down for him. "Arjhan isn't dead yet!"
The assault stopped. The man withdrew his blade and stood up, glaring down at Ezidran. Bizarre things happened - strips of flesh begin to peel off from the man's skin. Like a butterfly metamorphosing from its cocoon, a new figure emerged from the flesh peeling away, strange noises of the winter horns rung in his head as the figure stepped out of its 'shell'. What Ezidran saw before him scared him even more, causing him to retract into a corner in fear - It was himself.
He tried to scream but no voice came out from his lips. As the doppelganger of himself approached him, he smirked, baring yellowed crooked teeth at him. Ezidran couldn't feel his arms nor legs anymore, frozen in his spot.
What seemed to be a tender touch, almost felt chilling on his skin as the doppelganger brushed his plated finger along Ezidran's cheeks, smiling, taunting him viciously. His icy voice gripped Ezidran in a chilling hold of death, he spoke in Scourge: "You didn't let me down, master. I thought you would let yourself die. I'd be all alone."
M-Master...?
"Allow me to remind you," he hissed, in a beastly manner. For a second, Ezidran thought he came face to face with a serpent.
The doppelganger held his runeblade in his hands, the same runeblade he and Dynast had worked hard together to get it forged to help him in his condition - The Jormungar. With a flick of his wrist, the deathly blade grazed across Ezidran's flesh, splattering black ichor across the walls. Ezidran opened his mouth to scream, still not a sound came out.
"You know what it would be fun?" The Scourge doppelganger continued, pleased with his deed. "Letting you know what a monster you were when you were me."
I don't understand.
My favorite pastime? Was cutting limbs part. Don't let them run. No one runs from me.
I don't understand!
No one struggles from me. No one fights against me when I defile them.
Stop.
Eat. EAT. EaT. EAT THEIR FLESH.
Stop it!
Stop them from squirming, stop them from crying, make sure they lie down still, naked. Make sure they lie down flat while I eAT them from inside out. So delicious. Eat. EAT. eat. eAT. The heart, the liver, the tender firm flesh and blood in my mouth. Eat, EAT, eat, so hungry.
Oh lord...
Dynast could've been delicious. Could've so delicious to taste. So hungry... Why did he run from me? Maybe I should've cut his limbs off, left him as a torso so he couldn't run.
Oh lord, no... No...
We could be together forever...
I hope so... Just not like this.
Eat.
EAT.
So hungry.
Ezidran roared in pain, shaking and thrashed about like a wild beast within the chains. The chilling tone of his doppelganger's voice seemed to have brought the cell's temperature down to zero, as the icy blade of Jormungar cut into his flesh, splitting out sutures, reopening old wounds to gush out all the ichor from their bloodied hems. With surgical precision, he carved a mark, resembling a blood rune, into Ezidran's chest. Deep lacerations were made to define the mark, it had been sunken deeply to make sure it was enough to reveal the deadened heart beneath it.
Make it stop!
I'm here to help. To help all your heartache. To help you EAT.
Helplessly, the Death Knight twisted in agony as the doppelganger resumed his work. He felt his flesh stripped bare, nerves exposed to the cool air painfully, felt like it was on fire. The blade traveled to his abdomen slowly, ripping apart every fiber of his exposed muscles and soft, squishy orifices deep inside. Cruelly, the doppelganger plunged his plated gauntlet right into his chest and grasped something firm and hard and bloody. Could it be his heart?
Ezidran choked on his own bile and ichor, refusing to give in to the pain and glared back at the man. "Fuck you."
"Fuck you too," He smirked, removing his hand slowly from his form, the sickeningly wet noises and blood pouring had been unbearable. He backed away and faded away into the thin air.
Ezidran was left lying in his own pool of blood, gasping for the stale air even though he knew oxygen did nothing for him. Almost instinctively, he clutched to his gushing wounds, foolishly trying to stop the blood from pouring out and his sutures from falling apart. Just when he thought the storm was over, he felt something slithering in his chest, tightly wrapping around his heart. Agony gripped to his chest, he felt like something was trying to escape within him.
It hurts... It hurts....
Abruptly, a fanged serpent burst open from the carved mark on his chest. Disturbingly hissing and struggling to eat its way out of his flesh, the serpent tried to wrap itself around Ezidran's form from his insides and take over him. The Death Knight howled in pain, with all his might, he broke his arms off the chains and forcefully pried his chest open. Splitting all the sutures that had sealed his chest close, he ripped his heart out where the serpent coiled around on.
Disgusted, he tossed his heart and the serpent around it across the floor and fell back flat on his back where he passed out from the pain.
The serpent withered away in its dying breath and laid motionless on the deadened heart.
---
The Crusaders were panicking, Zaifar himself was in a state of alarm when they witnessed the Death Knight's violent behavior and had ripped out his own heart in distress. They opened the cell doors
"GET THE VACCINE! NOW!" One of the Crusaders yelled as people ran back and forth in the cell hallways.
"Vaccine's here!"
"Get his heart back, handle it carefully! We'll perform a surgery to implant it back in later!"
"Thankfully he is undead, the heart is no vital organ of his form," Zaifar knelt next to the thrashing death knight. "We will worry about the surgery later. Let me administer the vaccine. Be careful not to get yourselves infected."
The Crusaders in resistance suit quickly locked down Ezidran still on the cold cell floors. Zaifar made sure that the syringe needle was fixed tight, right amount of dosages had been administered and calmly, he injected the vaccine into Ezidran's arm.
"I..." Was all Ezidran could manage to say before he fell unconscious, sedated by the vaccine.
"That should do it. According to the DCDC, it should suppress the hallucinations and sedate him for now," Zaifar explained, watching the Death Knight falling into a slumber. "We would need big dosages for him and regularly."
As a trained medic, the Forsaken Priest would not just leave him as that. He examined the Death Knight, he was all right, no injuries except for the gaping hole in his chest where he ripped out his heart from. He glanced back at the severed heart where the Crusaders carefully retrieved and wondered how to perform the implantation again.
"Wonderful," Zaifar sighed to himself. "The hallucinations are getting worse."