Scene #1343: An Undead Welcome Mat

Owner	Pose
Sindragosa	Icecrown is a sweeping wasteland. Built of ice, stone, and iron, it is well-deserving of its name, and its formidable reputation. Here stands the very crux of the Lich King's power. Here his armies grow, undeterred by the endless blizzards and deep gray skies. The warpgate into Icecrown deposits travelers onto a shallow plateau ringed by stripped ancient rib bones, stone plinths, and the hateful eyes of countless watchers. Gargoyles mill through the area in defense of the warpgate, and nearby, necromancers carry out slow patrols trailed by small swarms of shambling undead. There is no shelter to be found. The cavernous eyes of every skull built into the nearby citadel's design seem turned onto this very spot. From the moment one enters Icecrown, he may find himself beset by a distinct feeling of danger. How could anything living ever be welcomed into such a place? At least Helena Celba and Lezard Valeth are uniquely suited to such a land. Not far from the warpgate, gathered in the Court of Bones, a contingent of undead look to be preparing for some kind of action. Greater undead mill around a host of lesser creatures all organized into loose clusters and ranks. Blue light shines from every socket as if to make it obvious how unified this force is in will and purpose. Above the throng, two dragons made of bone and tattered flesh mill in slow circles. At the head of the throng, a larger dragon coils in restless waiting.
Lezard Valeth	Information garnered from a very, very dead Lich has alerted Lezard Valeth to possibilities involving powerful undead. Lezard is always interested in the undead. They make good minions and don't even complain. These, however, might not be quite the same minion material. That's why he's more interested in an alliance. Lezard has come to this place of ice and death with a necromancer associate. He frowns at the blizzard raging above them, but if such things daunted Lezard, he would be a poor master of magic. He steps forward from the warpgate, standing tall and proud. His living body likely would get a great deal of attention, but he seems to not be dissuaded by the masses of undead and the grisly warnings and detection methods present. This is kind of his kind of place, after all. Provided he isn't immediately attacked, he approaches the Court of Bones with sure foot and confident expression. When he is challenged, or he reaches the Court itself, he will give a florid, deep bow. "Greetings, noble assembled. My name is Lezard Valeth, Necromancer of Midgard. I come from lands afar to offer tribute unto the Queen of the Frostbrood."
Helena Celba	Helena walks with Lezard, she is his junior, technically, and alaudes him the respect that requires. She does, however, cast a spell to shield them from the elements. After all, the apprentances cast first. It is simple logic, and one she respects. She walks, looking around and taking count...her powers allow her to see more than just what is physically there, she can see into the etherial plane as well, but not letting on right now exactly that she can...after all, that might be needed yet, and no need to tip her hand unnecissarily. Her outfit is black learther and a hat that is tied up with her hair, keeping it's long braids controlable. Knives can be located on her person, but that goes without saying, given her class. More than that, her albino skin stands in stark comparison to her tight black outfit. She does not immediately speak, taking careful measure of the wind right now. The court of bones huh..? Interesting. "I am Helena Celba, Necromancer of Odin, the Iron Desolation, and on behalf of the Murasame Zaibatsu."
Sindragosa	Lezard doesn't exactly go unchallenged, but neither does he go unhindered, either. As he steps from the warpgate onto the tundra and makes his way with calm surety to the Court of Bones, he is soon harried by diving gargoyles who don't quite make contact, and pursued by leaping masked ghasts and gibbering ghouls who seem eager to drink in the scent of life. Nearby necromancers lean against their staves to watch him pass and to jeer over his foolishness, while one of the circling dragons twists around to regard him and to let out a frost-rimed bellow. It's like he's being harassed by a bloodthirsty crowd, each thing present doing their part to try and push him over the edge. Few could keep their composure under such circumstances. Helena is equally hounded. Grasping fingers come closer to scraping at her legs and feet than they do Lezard. Is it because she is a woman, and these creatures preferring a more tender flesh for their repast, or because she is the apprentice, and thereby less likely to turn and bring suffering to her aggressors? Dressed from head to toe in an iron and saronite affair as ornate as it is consuming, a humanoid male possessing a cruel, echoing voice cuts through the ranks to thrust his greatsword into the ground point-first at a spot only a few inches from Lezard's toes. "You intrude on the Lich King's territory to bring tribute? What insolence!" The Death Knight laughs in a raspy, predatory manner. "And what tribute have you brought? This girl? Explain your purpose, and choose your words with care; they may very well be your last. I am Davanen of the Scourge, and this legion is mine to command -- along with your fates." Pompous.
Lezard Valeth	Lezard walks with the certain step that only those who are certain of their power and position have. He doesn't bother striking at the minions. He can tell that they too have a sense of curiosity into this intrusion, and it is a leverage he needs to make the most of in order to gain access to someone who can /actually make decisions around here/. Undead bureaucracy. It's a thing. Lezard only hopes Helena is similarly hardened to such displays. He stands straight as the blade buries itself into the ground before him, and manages to suppress the reflexive jump that would come from a potential attack coming so close. He, too, cannot show weakness here. "Greetings, mighty Davanen. May your name strike fear into all who oppose you." Lezard says, moving smoothly into his initial gambit. "We seek audience with the Queen of the Frostbrood, and have brought tribute to her cause, as I have explained. It would be ill befitting to come to this place without a suitable gift." He smiles, as his glasses catch the gleam of unholy light reflected from the undead around him. "If you wish to inspect it, then be my guest." He turns, sweeping his cape dramatically as he raises his hands. "BEHOLD!" Three magical circles form on the ground, light shining upwards from them and shapes taking form as they fade into view... Dragons. Three dragons, heavily bound with dark iron chains incised with runes. The bound beasts struggle against their bindings but cannot break free. Perhaps they know what is to come. "A splendid gift, is it not?" Lezard says, simply.
Helena Celba	Helena does not look bothered, not even a little. When you are from somewhere called the Iron Desolation, it is not too easy to be preturbed with places like this. Though Odin is only /slightly/ less cold. Also, there may be more iron there, than here. She walks confident, perhaps maybe even arrogant. She is not ill at ease here, infact...like Lezard, only curious and invigerated. There is a power here, a power they can feel. It is...interesting. Though the Necromancers only get her to wink at them...even the lady ones. The Death Knight that comes before them gets her full attention. "Mmm...very powerful." She says, purring. "Mama likes." She says, with a grin. Then Lezard makes his offer, "I must say, it is. Also, very dramatic!"
Sindragosa	Above and to the east, one of the two flighted frostwyrms descendes heavily onto the spiked ramparts. The weight of his body settles with a loud, rumbling impact, and sparks are drawn from the iron crennelations as the claws on his feet and his wing-joints scrabble for purchase. His tattered ruff spreads around his head as he turns his fiery gaze on the three captive dragons, and then, after he inspects the prize, he takes off again into looping flight with a mighty roar echoing throughout the Court of Bones. In similar display to its cohort, the second dragon cranes its neck around to survey the tribute as it continues its flight. After the first dragon's awkward flight carries him too close to the second dragon, the second dragon lets out a growl, and the two briefly engage in a duel for superiority, their bony limbs rattling in a short-lived cacophony. The Queen of the Frostbrood is far slower to react. Possessing a more intact anatomy than her lesser children, she yet has scaled eyelids which seal tightly at rest, but open into small shining slits at the first indication of her interest. As her head lifts from her foreclaws, her eyes open wide, becoming two depthless pits of azure flame bearing only the mere suggestion of a vertical pupil. There is a sense of great deliberateness to her movements, like she is acting and moving only whenever she believes it worthwhile. Despite the severity of her condition, and the nature of her transformation, she retains an air of predatory grace and danger, traits magnified whenever she rises up onto all four legs and unfurls her ragged wings. "TAKE THEM!" The Queen's bellowing voice is distinctly feminine, and distinctly cruel. "Bring forth this tribute, and they who would bargain for my favors!" Davanen rips his greatsword from the ground, only to level its point at the three offered dragons. All at once, the undead swarm forward like ants to clamber over and claim their prize. They work together to haul the chained dragons toward Sindragosa. The fullness of her stare is directed onto Lezard and Helena as they are brought forward by Davanen himself. No longer shouting, she lowers her immense head to their level, but not below it. Never below it. "Your gift has earned you the right to be heard."
Lezard Valeth	In his experience in dealing with undead of the draconic variety, Lezard knows better than to underestimate them. Some of his finer specimens could almost even kill /him/. Lezard turns back towards the great Queen as she calls out. He adjusts his chilled glasses with a pleased expression. The first hurdle has been passed. He nods to Helena, and he follows the Death Knight to stand before Sindragosa herself. Again, Lezard bows once he is given permission to be heard. "I heave heard tales of your magnificence, mighty Queen, but they hardly do you justice. I had the pleasure of meeting one of your servants upon Mount Anthor recently. Regrettably, he had failed in his mission due to the intevention of beings from beyond your world, members of a 'Union'. Before his death, I was told of the power of yourself and the Lich King, and I was moved to discover the truth for myself, as well as deliver this news to you."
Helena Celba	Helena walks with Lezard, smiling as the doors are opened to them. She bows before the dragon, "Honored lady of the Frostbrood." She says, knowing her courtly matters. For Helena's disdain, she seems capable of being courtly. She rises, looking up at the Dragon and speaks. "I similarly have heard tails of power, and on behalf of my employer I come offering to seek...a set of terms, as well as assist my ally Lezard. After all...while you are mighty, the scores of would be heros are perhaps more numerous than you have corpses to fight them. Unlike many would be heros...many of them have the power to back their threats...rants...and other unpleasant things." "Oh and they /moralize/."
Sindragosa	As if mentioning him by name somehow summons his attention, the presence radiating throughout Icecrown coalesces into a single point aimed at the two outsiders. Whispers just on the edge of perception touch Lezard's mind and Helena's, and lurk in the growling echoes emanating from Sindragosa's voice. Her demeanor shall never be kind; however, she is capable of restraining her darkest urges, and of engaging her fellows with a haughty manner reminiscent of how she must have been at the heights of her glorious past. "Lezard Valeth, Necromancer of Midgard...Helena Celba, Necromancer of Odin." Together, the two are considered and weighed by more than Sindragosa alone. Again, it feels like every unliving eye has turned toward this spot, like no matter where Lezard or Helena may look, something is staring back. Sindragosa settles on the ground in a relaxed and regal pose. Her foreclaws cross over one another almost daintily, and her wings shuffle as they settle against her back. Neck curving back, head cocked an imperious degree, and her tail swaying once before coiling behind her, she lets out a hollow-sounding chuckle, and gestures for them to continue. "You have our attention."