The crate arrived at the Norrvakt estate in the countryside of the Crown Isle. Four men hoisted it off the cart and into the dining hall, laying it down gently as to not offend the owner of the expensive piece. They were paid for their service and the cart made it's way back down the broken up cobble road.A house servant, one of the mercenaries from the Ironwolf Legion, broke into the crate, not removing the top fully, and stepped back as the Warbeast stepped over the wooden coffin. Carthas Norrvakt, bent his knees as he drew a hand over the case. He thought on it for a moment.
This gift by his father. This was his life. This is what his life has become and all his life will be. He will not live in palaces or castles. He will not own ships or servants. He is a monster. He is the Warbeast Carthas of the Wolf's Blood. So naturally the Warbeast requires the best equipment to fulfill his life.
At that, Carthas pushes the top off the crate and stands up, staring down at the costly gift. The servant looked down as well, uttering under his breath in awe, "Blacksteel."
The eunuch Norrvakt reaches into the crate and draws out a piece. The Bearwolf stares back and him at it. The flesh of the Bearwolf, blackened and polished. The mouth of the Bearwolf, large and all consuming. The Warbeast brings the Bearwolf to his chest, looking forward with an expression of euphoric bliss.
"Leave the chest piece and pauldrons. Take the remaining pieces to my chamber. I shan't be needing them in Farah'deen."
Another Ironwolf mercenary steps forward to assist the initial servant in relocating the remaining pieces of the set. Once they have departed from the dining hall, Carthas steps over to one of the long tables, sitting down and setting the Bearwolf before him.
"This is what the our plan has become then?"
"Of course, this is what it means to survive."
"To have ourselves killed?"
"Oh ye of little faith, we have played them f--"
"Silence. Both of you."
"How did we come to let you exist?"
"By necessity."
"Is that truly it then?"
"Nicolas, Delacroix. You both would be dead without me and I without you. Know one thing, I am the one in control. You both were weak in your own rights. Hungry for power that you knew was impossible. The jealous one and the servant. The two of you together could not achieve power."
The Warbeast draws his leather glove over the Bearwolf, caressing the side of it's head.
"This is power. War is power. It is time you both accept this truth or I will rid myself of your presence."
"You can do no such thing"
He laughs at the statement, rising from the chair, Bearwolf in tow as he prepares for the next moments.
This gift by his father. This was his life. This is what his life has become and all his life will be. He will not live in palaces or castles. He will not own ships or servants. He is a monster. He is the Warbeast Carthas of the Wolf's Blood. So naturally the Warbeast requires the best equipment to fulfill his life.
At that, Carthas pushes the top off the crate and stands up, staring down at the costly gift. The servant looked down as well, uttering under his breath in awe, "Blacksteel."
The eunuch Norrvakt reaches into the crate and draws out a piece. The Bearwolf stares back and him at it. The flesh of the Bearwolf, blackened and polished. The mouth of the Bearwolf, large and all consuming. The Warbeast brings the Bearwolf to his chest, looking forward with an expression of euphoric bliss.
"Leave the chest piece and pauldrons. Take the remaining pieces to my chamber. I shan't be needing them in Farah'deen."
Another Ironwolf mercenary steps forward to assist the initial servant in relocating the remaining pieces of the set. Once they have departed from the dining hall, Carthas steps over to one of the long tables, sitting down and setting the Bearwolf before him.
"This is what the our plan has become then?"
"Of course, this is what it means to survive."
"To have ourselves killed?"
"Oh ye of little faith, we have played them f--"
"Silence. Both of you."
"How did we come to let you exist?"
"By necessity."
"Is that truly it then?"
"Nicolas, Delacroix. You both would be dead without me and I without you. Know one thing, I am the one in control. You both were weak in your own rights. Hungry for power that you knew was impossible. The jealous one and the servant. The two of you together could not achieve power."
The Warbeast draws his leather glove over the Bearwolf, caressing the side of it's head.
"This is power. War is power. It is time you both accept this truth or I will rid myself of your presence."
"You can do no such thing"
He laughs at the statement, rising from the chair, Bearwolf in tow as he prepares for the next moments.
