It was what my brother said at my sentencing. I should be kept alive should the burning legion ever return. Tell me, Tyrande, what does that make me?
[Perhaps at one time, a time long ago, he had recognized his brother's actions as an attempt at mercy, an inability to put an end to his life. But ten thousand years of cold isolation had twisted an contorted his memories and feelings. The slow torture of his sentence was such a far cry from 'mercy', that he ceased to believe anyone who let him rot in that cage did so out of anything but malice and personal gain- with the exception of Tyrande.]
Alright, next time I see an army of demons storming through a portal into Azeroth I'll come back to confer with everyone whether or not I should kill them beforehand. I'm sure their numbers wouldn't have inflated too much in the time that would all take.
[His voice was dripping with sarcasm, over what he believed was a ridiculous notion. He had saved many lives with his actions, lives of the very people that had imprisoned him for ten thousand years. And he was labeled a monster for it. She got her payback pushing food on him though. He let out a displeased grunt just thinking about it. But he knew he was pushing her buttons just as much as she was pushing his, and he didn't want to lose her company, so he begrudgingly, very begrudgingly, caved to her demands without too much of a fuss.]
I went on a hunt this morning [At least he thought it was morning.] started preparing it then....
[He made a gesture with his hand in a manner to say "this happened", and left it at that. After he slowly pulled himself to his feet, despite his muscles protesting, and began to lead her to where he had left it. His movements were sluggish, and he jut let hi wings drag along the ground, too tired to care for the moment.]
It is in the back. This way.
[And in the back it was. A stag lay partially skilled and gutted, but it seemed as though halfway through he may have gotten either mad at it, or something else and simply took it out on the dead animal, because one of his mighty glaives stood lodged through its head, pinning it to the table. Where the other glaive was, was anyone's guess.]
Does this mean I'm demoted to mouthblister again?
[Perhaps at one time, a time long ago, he had recognized his brother's actions as an attempt at mercy, an inability to put an end to his life. But ten thousand years of cold isolation had twisted an contorted his memories and feelings. The slow torture of his sentence was such a far cry from 'mercy', that he ceased to believe anyone who let him rot in that cage did so out of anything but malice and personal gain- with the exception of Tyrande.]
Alright, next time I see an army of demons storming through a portal into Azeroth I'll come back to confer with everyone whether or not I should kill them beforehand. I'm sure their numbers wouldn't have inflated too much in the time that would all take.
[His voice was dripping with sarcasm, over what he believed was a ridiculous notion. He had saved many lives with his actions, lives of the very people that had imprisoned him for ten thousand years. And he was labeled a monster for it. She got her payback pushing food on him though. He let out a displeased grunt just thinking about it. But he knew he was pushing her buttons just as much as she was pushing his, and he didn't want to lose her company, so he begrudgingly, very begrudgingly, caved to her demands without too much of a fuss.]
I went on a hunt this morning [At least he thought it was morning.] started preparing it then....
[He made a gesture with his hand in a manner to say "this happened", and left it at that. After he slowly pulled himself to his feet, despite his muscles protesting, and began to lead her to where he had left it. His movements were sluggish, and he jut let hi wings drag along the ground, too tired to care for the moment.]
It is in the back. This way.
[And in the back it was. A stag lay partially skilled and gutted, but it seemed as though halfway through he may have gotten either mad at it, or something else and simply took it out on the dead animal, because one of his mighty glaives stood lodged through its head, pinning it to the table. Where the other glaive was, was anyone's guess.]