Ambrosine: The Monster

Ambrosine was, as a rule, reluctant to fight in fellowship with others. Few Templars had seen her in combat as a result.

But this…

…this was with fellow Death Knights. They, of all people, wouldn’t look askance at her. And so it was that Ambrosine let drop both her mental shackles, and her mask.

The monster was loose.

—

The four knights split up, but Ambrosine didn’t think of it as fighting alone. After all, Justice was beneath her, and he was as much a weapon as her runeblades were. If Rue and Woe didn’t take care of a demon, Justice’s teeth and hooves did the deed.

She let herself rejoice.

Rue and Woe sang of glee and satiation.

Corpses were strewn in her wake.

—

Ambrosine knew she was in a smidge over her head about the time she landed on the ground and saw stars. Only years of battle reflexes saved her from the pack of felhounds that had toppled Justice. Well, years of reflexes and furiously hurled spikes of ice.

The demons scattered, but it would be only seconds before they regathered.

“Justice! Hup!”

The dreadsteed struggled to rise, but his hind legs dragged uselessly. He squealed once in despair and slunk back down to the ground.  Shit. Shit shit shit.

Oh, she just wanted to wail. Justice had been her Charger–before. It was his torture and murder that had broken her, in the end. Facing the bitter truth that she would have to leave him behind was like ripping off another piece of her tattered soul.

But so be it. Jaffar would be very cross with me if I got caught. Cross. Sure. And I’m supposed to be helping a rescue mission, not…requiring another one.

“Sorry, Justice,” she choked out, stretching one arm out behind her as she called up a gate.

“Oh, little death knight. I’m sorry, did we upset you by hurting your pony? But he’s already dead. What does it matter if we kill him again?”

Ambrosine spun on her heels, blades at the ready. A dreadlord had taken advantage of her distraction and was nearly on top of her. I only need a couple of seconds.

“Fuck you,” she replied, not exactly a bastion of wit under the circumstances.Step forward, bring Rue and Woe to bear-

…and the demon casually yanked both swords from her battle-fatigued hands. And with them, any chance she had of defending herself.

Abort! Abort!

Thank the Light, the gate had finished. She hurled herself backwards and through. But even then she couldn’t rest–her parting from the Ebon Blade had been, ah, a noisy affair. Still choking back sobs (damned straight I’m upset about my pony, you fucking asshole demon), she bolted for the skeletal gryphons. Acherus was not a place she cared to linger in.

Holding everything together lasted all of six seconds after she arrived in Graywatch. She found a quiet corner to curl up in and had a good cry. Figuring a way out of her stupid predicament could come later.