#* in character: nalice / BLACK OF HEART.

[warwaged-archive]

@weavefate  ♥

Truth be told, Nalice has no more fondness for the company of dragons from other flights than she has for the company of mortals.

Her kind is scarce, though, loss after loss after loss until too few of them remained, until those she had sincerely enjoyed as companions were nowhere to be found, until even her kind did not few quite hers. If she has gone beyond resenting Wrathion (she is unsure she is beyond that, even then, spiteful creature she has always been), that would yet not change her flight, the one she knew and embraced and fought for, is not that which still exists. 

Adapting was key to survival; she of all people had learned this lesson when still a whelp surrounded by dozens of siblings that sought to hinder more than to help. Saddened by the notion as Nalice may be, perhaps it was time to face things as they were: her flight needed to adapt in order to survive, for even the Black Prince would be naught other than last of his kind were he to survive alone. There may be others, few though they may be, others that may be able to attain some clarity of mind as she had, if only they could be aided. Regardless, it was no endeavor she could take on alone --- not before she took care to be seen as harmless, or at very least neutral. 

Trust would be hard to win, when she had deceived the Dragon Aspects once. She was patient, however; and starting small could be most beneficial in the long term. “It is a rare thing to find a Red alone. You are all so... united.” If there is something of contemptuous in phrasing, Nalice keeps it from her tone. It is not easy to extend friendliness, least of all to a red dragon, but she will do what she must to ensure own safety. “Are you in need of aid to return to your kind, perhaps?”

[diguerra-moved]

@terraforged // BLACK PRINCE.

She didn’t recall the world ever being so quiet.

Even when He did not speak to her, He was there: ever lurking, ever present. N’Zoth had eyes everywhere, and he himself saw much more than physical senses would have allowed; more than that, he had been in her mind as more than listener, more than voice that tried to mimic her own or simply nudge her towards determined path. It had been a presence imposing, one that would sing to her of promised glory as much as terrorize with threats, one that had been there for as long as she could remember life after hatching from her egg. Nalice waited, listened, still as death, but nothing had come. Ever since chains had been broken, he had been even more constant a presence and now... nothing. No whispers, for good or ill; only silence.

And then, as suddenly as silence had come, it was filled by a myriad of different voices.

Their cacophony made the black dragon recoil with a shriek, claws carving rifts in the stone ground of the cave she had been hiding in before she curled up around own head, paws and wings shielding her form as if enough to keep out the voices. It did naught to ward them off; she hissed at amusement towards her anguish, felt the pull at suggestions of causing death and destruction, softer whispers that spoke of what she wished to hear. They urged her left and right, threatened and tempted, endless, multiple, loud, loud, so very loud and her head hurt and she could barely hear her own thoughts.

It was what they wanted, she imagined; too many to dispute a single being, they would be content with her complete surrender --- but she had never given up in her life, and she was not about to start now. Nalice tried to quiet them herself, by force of will alone; it did not work. The voices that had quietened his were relentless, never tiring, never wavering, but she was not. It was but a couple of days before exhaustion, lack of sleep and mental effort required to battle her unwanted guests both causing it, begun to make her efforts even less effective. It wouldn’t be long before their interference became a hindrance to her survival (and what good would survival be, regardless, if she became but a puppet to the disembodied voices?)

Another fair share of days passed before wings took her to the sky in course she was currently at; at first, she had known not what to do, if there was anything to be done at all. All magic she had ever studied was hardly helpful in that regard; perhaps she could have tried to infiltrate Karazhan once more, return to her former lair, but there was no time to investigate ancient knowledge (scarcely enough focus left on her to do it, even if time was not running out). It took wrestling herself as well as the whispers to decided seeking him out; but desperate times required desperate measures, and she was quite desperate indeed.

Or perhaps the line of desperation had been crossed a while ago. Nalice wouldn’t be able to tell.

It is only his involvement in mortal affairs that makes him easy to locate (that and she’s learned to spot his little pets well enough, skilled in concealing themselves as they might be); but easy to locate he is, regardless, or in the least easy enough, and she is not in enough of right mind that she cares about shifting appearances until wings have brought her beyond what mortals would consider comfortable (but she cares not for them, not then, pesky insignificant things that they are), trading wings for legs only when it takes her no more than few strides to reach him.

“Make them stop.” It is demand and plea both at once, context all but forgotten, no greeting or explanation offered. Nalice is even less right of mind than she had been before, then and there. “You said you could make Him silent,” and she knows not if he truly did in the end, almost asks but does not, inquiry forgotten as whispers incite her against the other dragon. Desperation speaks louder, seeps into her tone, neither controlled nor disdainful, words rushed and anxiety shining in dark eyes. “so you must have a way to quieten the others. Make them stop.”

[warwaged-moved]

* tag drop: nalice.

‣ muse { nalice } —  ❝ BLACKWYRM. ❞ ‣ isms { nalice } —  ❝ THERE IS ONLY POWER AND THOSE STRONG ENOUGH TO SEEK IT. ❞ ‣ character study { nalice } —  ❝ A BURNING FIRE AND A VIOLENT TONGUE. ❞ ‣ in character { nalice } —  ❝ BLACK OF HEART. ❞ ‣ aesthetic { nalice } —  ❝ BLACK AND COLD OBSIDIAN. ❞ ‣ physique { nalice } —  ❝ BEAUTIFUL LIKE A FOREST FIRE IS BEAUTIFUL. ❞ ‣ dynamics { nalice & the black dragonflight } —  ❝ BECOME AS GODS. ❞

[warwaged-archive]

@terraforged​ said: ❛ i merely know when to indulge my pride, and when i must swallow it. ❜ (to nalice)

( * the witcher 3 prompts ! // accepting.

“Tsk.” It’s visible, then, anger that had been half forgotten amidst madness and the fear of it, reduced to embers when life had been struggle to survive and retain whichever pieces of her minds were hers (as hers as could be, for one so twisted for so long). Result of his efforts, too; his diligent work, aid given time and again, always there to the best of his abilities whenever she showed up, hasty despair and harsh words, in spite of him being her last chance, only chance, as knowledge to free her mind of the Void was his alone. And he, who had once had her hunted, offered aid and surprising patience, if no less sharp of tongue himself. 

Nalice had yet to find her path forward. Of course, she was far from entirely recovered, corruption deep and unrelenting, yet N’Zoth had been gone for long enough the influence even his absence had over her begun dissipating, and Wrathion’s potion had yet to fail entirely in warding off the influence of the new voices that attempted to conquer her mind once the Old God had been defeated. Enough that a new goal should have been set, at very least; there had always been something, minor or major or both, never a moment idle, not one word spoken without intent behind it. For a time survival alone had been all she had had the strength to pursue; yet this was no longer the truth. 

She could have begun working on something else. Could, but did not. 

When thousands of years of life had been dedicated to the glory of a near extinct flight, there was little allure in any new goal she may pursue. (When had it all grown so senseless? So... empty?)

Perhaps such was the reason, then, why she lingered. She needed not be here, needed not listen to this; and at that moment, red eyes shining fiercer with anger that could be seen as well as she felt it, Nalice questioned herself as to why she was there at all, listening to a whelp, same who had once threatened her life, scold her as if she were the child. 

Had she not relented enough pride in seeking his aid? Did he think she knew not how to bite her tongue and bid her time, she who had succeeded in infiltrating Wyrmrest’s highest circle, feigning submission to a queen she saw as no real queen at all? Prideful though she may be, Nalice knew more than well enough that pride was not more valuable than one’s objective, much less one’s life. 

Perhaps it was that, instead, what caused her anger: knowing that his words were not without merit. Perhaps it was something else entirely, something created by her frustration. Or perhaps anger was simply naturally her state of being, and she fell into it naturally even when there was little to no reason for it at all. 

"It was awful meek of you all the same. If this was meant to reprimand me I suggest you show the same amount of restraint you showed earlier, whelp."

[diguerra-moved]

@terraforged // MURDERER.

He had hardly been the first to have her hunted.

Only one of many; only one more hunt to survive. There had been nothing but survival for her, from the very beginning; and where many of her siblings, many of her flight had perished, she had endured. Indeed, he had hardly been the first to seek her death. Nevertheless, it had been under the orders of the so called ‘Black Prince’ she had gotten closest to IT in truth.

They had left her only because they believed her dead, taking her blood as prize. It had been a mistake to underestimate the little whelp so; if he had not held power himself, he most certainly knew how to bring to his service those who would dirty their hands in his place. But Nalice had lived; and it had been years of recovering, years in hiding, years of thirsting for vengeance, years of looking over her shoulder for when hiding would no longer work. He would come for her again, she knew (the voices said so, as well; and if not always aligned with them, the voices wanted her alive as much as she wanted to live).

What shock it had been to realize he had found her without her taking notice. 

Not the Black Prince himself, for he would not grace her with his illustrious presence. One of his, however, chasing after her as she chased after Serinar’s long cold trail (What else there was but clinging to very last of those she had once held dear? There was naught to her but destruction and death, fallen flight and failed plans; what purpose did she have, now that there was no flight to reign over this world, now that she was last to carry their true legacy?). Regardless of lengthy pursuit or amount of distant lands wings took her to, all they ever did was watch; more than once there had been opportunity’s to strike, Nalice was certain. Attack never came, however; she waited and waited, nights without sleep until body and mind wavered, until she was convinced it would never come, until mind was changed once more, filled with certainty they wished only to lure her into false sense of security and make her easy target, and yet, no attempt was made to do anything but know what would her next step be. 

And then it was night’s without sleep wondering what he intended with it.

Foolish to seek him. He wants her dead, she knows; even if they do not strike, he has ordered it before, he wants them all dead, world rid of any who would challenge his rule. Kill him first. Tempting suggestion that it is, Nalice hesitates, uncertainty not born of sympathy or lack of willingness, yet unable to remain ignorant of his reasoning, lest attempt to understand consumes her.

It might do just that all the same, she muses, awaiting for perfect chance to approach him without intervention from others. But then again, what there was left to lose? If anything, she could in the least have hopes not to be the sole Black to fall. His Blacktalon must have known she sought him; he himself must have been made aware of her presence, for hiding in plain sight as she was, Nalice expected disguise not to be effective so. ‘Twas hardly surprise or ambush, direct strides in mortal form coming to a halt at short distance from where he was (unlike herself, his mortal form boasted of his origins, crimson eyes and draconian features, contrast to hers, plainly human; it still disappointed --- bound to, for one she spent so long resenting and hating and fearing most certainly would not meet expectations in person).

“I have been waiting to meet you, Black Prince.” Venom drips from title he has given himself (loathe as she might, in the very least he has conquered it; who else was left to name themselves such?). “Eagerly.”

[warwaged-archive]

@terraforged​ said: Wrathion takes her closeness as invite it is likely not, though surely Nalice must have seen it coming astute thing that she was. "What will you do once we find a balance for you?" Where would she go? What would she do in a world which would, in the end, hate her in the very ways it hated him too? "What do you want for yourself?" Without whispers dictating to her, telling her what she wanted, who she was. What sort of person would she be then?

“What indeed.” Hums in reply, and if there is hint of introspective in her initial reply, it isn’t one feigned, merely poorly guarded. Greater offense would have been taken before, that he pried so in matters not his own; not now, truly. Hardly surprising that he judges it opening and takes advantage of it; merely expected, and fault lays on her that she has no prepared answer in truth. Some solace is found that in allowing him his inquiries, she can in the least study his intentions with them. It may well be trick of mind of one so used to see the worst in everything, but Nalice cannot avoid seeing in it far more than mere curiosity; it is testing, probing, attempting to find in her malice all her own instead of that tied to manipulation. It is hope too, perhaps; hope that she may yet prove their kin redeemable by redeeming herself.

In that she is certain to disappoint. Viciousness is still there, she knows; cleansing her corruption would make her neither good nor amenable, and Nalice is quite certain he would see it also. She is no altruistic sort, and she has no desire to aid mortals, still as much a nuisance to her as they had always been. Yet there is less a desire to destroy and more a frustration at lacking defined purpose he inquires for. Wrathion may have taken upon himself past duties of their flight, but to Nalice that was yet too bitter path; for so long they had been grateful of chains to such duties broken, and to chain herself to it once more seemed offense to those few she had held utmost regard for.

Their minds had not been their own either, not entirely, not for as long as she had known them; yet there had been no other version of them for her to know. What to do with that, now that she begins to experience clarity she never had before? Cannot disregard all past as falsehood, for it would be disregarding herself also; and if marks left by corruption were not pretty, they were nevertheless hers. Clear mind did not change she had sought to deceive other flights, did not change that even now Nalice would not shy away of bloodshed. She was the same, and she was not; what she would have been if untainted matters not when all of it has long since shaped who she is.

For once, though, reply she finds in looking to own heart is not to deceive or lie or manipulate, naught to do with death and destruction and conquest. Find others, who may yet live; find her brother, inseparable once and now disappeared for years. She cared naught for mortals, and loathed still idea of assuming roles obsidian dragons had been burdened with, yet there was single one of Wrathion’s doings Nalice found she had sincere desire to follow — restore those of them that could be reached, cleanse them enough they too would be able to face choices she now did.

They were most clever sort, after all; surely she had not been sole one wrongly believed dead.

It is not reply that leaves her lips. He takes chance to make his questions when opportunity arises, yet that Nalice allows him to do so does not mean she has any desire to give a single truthful reply. Feigns thoughtful demeanor, as if considering options indeed. “Set fire to some pesky mortals, perhaps? Not all of us can live a life of giving them aid, and it’s been so long since they had to face one of us…”

[warwaged-archive]

@weavefate​ (Dragon Rosie) said: “ don’t… don’t touch me. ” (to Nalice)

MORE ANGST & POST ANGST SENTENCES. // accepting.

“Such a scared little thing!” Spoken with such apparently surprised sweetness one may be almost fooled, were her scales not black, were her mind not poisoned and her heart tainted, were it not malice found in depths of red eyes, near amused in their gaze towards the other dragon. So little power she had left, so little anything; one had to take their joys where they could be found, and frightened spawns of accursed red dragonflight were a specially delightful treat, all the more so in their rarity.

Mere chance their paths had crossed at all, for Nalice was one and alone member of dying kind, but one who survived nevertheless, and she would not risk drawing red dragons’ attention to herself. A though decision, then, how to proceed; alone she may be but she was strong enough to defeat this one, were they only ones to clash. Were the red to have company around, though, that changed things; and if she did kill her, Nalice may just have to deal with bothersome reds on her tail again, ruined careful cover she had constructed to protect herself in years that followed Deathwing’s defeat and murder attempted against her.

Then again, wasn’t she at risk already, after the nosy red stumbled on her hideout? She may well leave only to bring others. Regardless, location was compromised; clear enough to Nalice she’d have to leave, find somewhere else, work on protection spells and ward herself better against unwanted guests next time.

Only decision to be made was this one’s fate, then.

She may well enjoy the terrified stumbling words, until such decision was made. “You may just have more sense than the rest of your dreadful kin.”

[warwaged-archive]

"Why are you even here?" Raern gestures around the Wyrmrest Temple. "Haven't the Blacks stopped all relations with their other kin?" (To Nalice, during WotLK)

UNPROMPTED ASKS // always accepting.

Oh, they are pesky little things, the mortals. 

Nalice finds she doesn’t mind wearing the form of one of them as much as she initially expected; it seems like a fragile thing, this skin of hers, white and soft and so very different of obsidian scales, but she does not reject it, does not feel as if it is a body she doesn’t belong in. Stands out, even as the representatives of other flights wear mortal guises also; Alexstrasza does not disguise draconic features even as a high elf, and most of others have a variation of elven too, even if in half. 

Her guise is purely human — so had been that her mother wore to infiltrate Wrynn’s court, so had been that Deathwing himself used to trick foolish mortals. Fitting, then, that it would be her choice when she weaves her own deceit, like those who came before, if setting her sights higher than deceiving mere mortals, culmination that this is of a long plan to infiltrate the other flight’s midst. Keep your enemies closer, as it were; Nalice sought to keep them close as it could be, abhorrent as it was to stand so close to the Lifebinder and not try to shed her blood.

“You presume I owe you an explanation, mortal.”She has little interest on mortals beyond their usefulness. This one seems more annoying than useful, and thus Nalice is inclined to pretend not to have heard her at all until she is left alone; but there are eyes on her, she knows, and more importantly, there are ears, and if she is to redeem her flight (the mere idea of it makes her want to laugh, absurd; her heart is as black as any of her kin, and that they cannot see it is a wonder). 

Well, only in part. For the most of it she knows it is guilt that keeps them at bay, even as Nalice does not quite bother concealing her taste for blood. 

“They are not my kin.” Blatant reply that it is may seem odd, but she knows to have played her tale well enough even this will only drive the blade further in their hearts, make the hideous Crimson Queen drown in regret thinking this to be consequence of her own actions. “My kin was slaughtered by them, innocent and guilty alike. Now we are too few to defend our own den from the undead.”

“It is no surprise the reds call upon their allies to look after their interests alone, their good graces extend only to the crimson-scaled. But my dragonshrine is infested with undead vermin also, and we need aid in cleansing it. The Dragon Queen is not noble enough to offer us help, but it seems neither is she vile enough to keep me from finding those nobler than herself who might be willing to aid us.” Nalice crosses her arms and shrugs lightly, unaffected by whichever tempers she may have provoked in speaking ill of beloved Alexstrasza. “Amounts to very little when we would not need help at all if not for them.”

[diguerra-moved]

Taloned paw reached to settle against younger to drag daughter closer whether she wished or not, only barely mindful not to catch sharp points against Nalice. Not so small was she anymore, no longer a stumbling whelp or gangly drake. A clever girl now. Cleverer than any other of Onyxia's brood. In another life she might have been proud. In another life she might have been a mother at all. "You have been busy." Crooning, snout bumping in sham of affection. "Tell me about it. Make me proud, dear."

VERY MUCH PROMPTED ASKS // send me ic asks guys

Another may have questioned affection that could so easily leave marks, smiles of too many sharp teeth, claws that do not much care who they cause to bleed. Another may have outraged at one who allowed offspring to fight, who demanded they prove worth if she is to waste even a minute hovering over them. Another, but not Nalice. All she has ever learned was that soft mothers, caring and kind and eager to give love free and unbound, only ever bred soft children, dependent and weak and unable to stand by themselves. A childish thing, to act needy and cry out for mother dearest’s attention; childish, but that even as whelp they had been taught would not be tolerated nor heard. Naught of wrong in having to earn mother’s affection, nothing to be questioned in receiving it only when and as she saw fit to give it. Onyxia made them strong; and were they not, would they deserve to live at all?

(When you are not fed love in silver spoon, you learn to lick it from knives.)

Indeed, there is contentment in even forceful manner would-be affection is offered, in interested inquiry, in blatantly offered opportunity to receive recognition for her efforts (for herself). All she did, Nalice did for them; for all of them to become masters of this world, as it is their right. 

“I have.” Begins, agreement certain in spite of apprehension griping at her; oh, what she intended to do was ambitious indeed, but she was yet in earlier stages of long term plan, plan that she knew not would please for certain. Yet if uncertainty is felt, it is carefully guarded within heart, deep beneath skin; weakness most certainly wouldn’t do, when all she wishes is to please. It is no herculean task, to be sure; Nalice has long learned that it is confident aggression that keeps her safest, that fear is invitation for an attack. “With what I believe will prove most advantageous to us, mother.”

“Granted all continues according to plan, I will soon have access to the Life Binder herself.” Would that she had the strength to take her down, would that she could do it and survive the wrath of the reds; suffering her presence in order to gaining her favor was all too unpleasant a task, but better still than risking on skin in truly damning manner. 

Red hued eyes have hint of expectant, nearly hopeful, as she watches for reaction, waits for it with bated breath. Oh, how she longs for hard earned pride at last. “As is, I have been successful in making her believe me unaffected by the so-called afflictions of our flight.”

[diguerra-moved]

The little red whelp looked at the bigger black scaled whelp with a curious tilt of her head. They were close to each other as the smaller one's tail moved, wagging as she boop her snout against the other's whelp nose. The gesture was gentle and friendly. @ whelpling Nalice & Rosie

IC ASKS // always accepting.

She does not feel safe in their midst.

Far too young to put it into proper words, even to herself, there are things she misses; siblings, black-scaled like she is, as numerous as the reds who now surround her are. Mother, too; for she knows none of the older, bigger dragons to be her. As day passes and she begins to smell more like the reds around her, Nalice still feels this, too to be wrong. Not her clutch siblings, not mother’s lair; it is all wrong, and she curls up in a corner as far from the rest of them as she can. 

And they watch her. There are other whelps, and they do not stick close to her but neither do they bother her much as days go bye and novelty wears off. The others, though, the big dragons… they watch her, and she feels like they might decide to hunt her and eat her, like they had been learning to do when she was taken away from where she belonged.

This one, however (the red who approached her, the one who was smaller than the rest), did not feel vastly more comfortable amidst those Nalice believed to be her siblings, even though they all smelled the same, even though she was colored deep red much like the rest of them. Was it not for that, the black whelp might have avoided her, stepped back, hissed a threat; as is, Nalice watches with wary eyes and nothing more, studies the other with distrust but does not move away.

Wings flap in agitated surprise at the touch, in spite of its clear friendliness; she stumbles back a step or two, before stepping forward again (curiosity piqued, she investigates her companion more closely, takes more detailed note). Only close inspection finished does she reciprocate the gentle gesture, replicating it in much more hesitant manner.

[diguerra-moved]

"G-good evening, Nalice. How a-are you today? Oh, I um, made you tea if you would like some." (Dragon Rosie)

IC ASKS // always accepting.

She needed not pretend gentleness in front of the Life Binder and her consort, or of the representatives of other flights. Different dragons called for different approaches, nevertheless; and this one, frail thing that she was, called for softer means, lest she breaks or decides to hide. Worth the effort, still, if only for benefits it earned her; harder to name her treacherous when she showed docility if it suited her, more difficult to deem her wretched when a child of Alexstrasza’s own body would befriend her so willingly. 

Tea. Mortal thing, tasteless as mortal things often were. She held no love for them; no particular hatred, either, nothing but an indifference of sorts if the mortals were not of use to her. They forget they are dragons, Nalice thinks, dallying amidst mortals for so long; perhaps she wants to forget, she who suffered at own siblings’ hands (and the black could laugh at that, at outrage it causes in flights other than her own, as if not something bound to happen eventually). They play at righteousness as it suits them, but she sees no difference beyond great destiny her flight is meant to have. 

“That is… very thoughtful.” Words without edge do not come easily, but they need not; all the more credit for her attempt, effort at getting better, at being good (they so love a redemption story). Sweet smile comes easier. Nalice is good at acting the part, else the Lifebinder would not believe her to have forsaken all allegiance to Deathwing and his misguided children, would not have accepted her at Wyrmrest. “I would like it, yes. Thank you, Rose.”

Sips it, a pleased hum as she does; Nalice is hardly fond of it, but she so needs them to let her close, and the Life Binder’s daughter could be a source unmatched if only she trusted Nalice enough. “I have been…” Pause is more dramatic than uncertain, gaze suddenly avoiding the other, crafted smile faltering momentarily; she is naught if not a victim, after all. “well enough, I suppose.”

“I hope you haven’t been unwell yourself.”

[diguerra-moved]

The Scourge come. Korialstrasz calls upon his allies in a futile attempt to save their Ruby Dragonshrine, but it seems the good graces of the red flight don't extend to saving the shrines of the other flights.

Surprised? I'm not.

There is another of my brood who has left to clear our Obsidian Dragonshrine and the undead vermin that now infest it. All it would take to prove yourself more noble and righteous than Alexstrasza herself is a quick jaunt over there and a few swings of a blade.

I’m amused.

nalice is so here to drag the reds

[diguerra-moved]

okay so even though I’ve made her page this is what I have for nalice so far:

* Nalice was born shortly before Neltharion betrayed the others, and soon before the Sundering happened.

* She wasn’t directly involved in the Black Dragonflight’s betrayal, since she was a baby. In current canon, she is about ten thousand years old, being younger than characters like Malfurion, Tyrande or Thalyssra.

* She suffered the consequences as much as all the other blacks, however. Twisting her mind was rather simple: even more than using ambition, the Old Gods capitalized on her resentment towards the other flights, who hunted the blacks down after Deathwing’s betrayal.

* They were not the only ones to do so. She grew up influenced by her flight; and while, like the rest of them, she suffered madness through Old God whispers, Nalice also grew up fiercely loyal to her mother, Deathwing, and her flight as a whole.

* Instead of infiltrating human kingdoms like her mother, she turned her deceit towards the other flights. Nalice used the fact she had been too young to take part on the betrayal of her flight to forge an uneasy alliance with the other flights and gain access to Wyrmrest Accord, becoming the Black Dragonflight’s representative.

* She abandoned the disguise and vanished from Wyrmrest by the time of Cataclysm. This was, of course, deliberate, as Nalice no longer saw reason to maintain the façade once Deathwing rose to bring the Hour of Twilight.

* Creating a world in which the Black Dragonflight ruled undisputed was one of her greatest ambitions, and what led her to form the Blackwyrm Cult. Although they worshiped her as their goddess, her goal wasn’t to make a goddess of herself as much as it was to make her entire flight the gods of this world.

* To further those purposes, she sought to acquire powerful magic, establishing herself beneath Karazhan with her cult in order to explore it and use of it being a place of strong magic. Although magic is the charge of the blues, Nalice has great affinity and talent for it.

* She hates the Red Dragonflight with particular ardor, a hatred both inherited and developed in the time the Blacks were hunted.

* Nalice revels in violence, death and destruction. Softness would have gotten her killed by the other flights, by mortals, or even by other blacks. She learned to embrace harshness instead, and do whatever it took to ensure her survival and that of her flight.

* She doesn’t hide her resent towards the other flights, or her taste for violence, even while acting as the Ambassador of the Black Dragonflight. She has no need to: quite the opposite, as she is prone to wielding it as a tool in causing the other leaders to feel guilt about their actions towards those, like herself, who did not choose the path their flight followed. This is of course untrue, as she is in fact very much on board with what her flight does --- and that is the part that she wouldn’t let others see while in disguise. By partially showing some of her worse traits, she seeks to manipulate gentler hearts in feeling guilty for what she is.

* She doesn’t care about mortals at all beyond their usefulness.

* Nalice is killed on Wrathion’s orders. For purposes of current canon interaction, in the standard verse in which she survives, she fakes her death and survives only barely. She is very resentful towards him, and will likely seek vengeance.

She would be one of the last surviving black dragons on Azeroth, although unlike Wrathion and Ebyssian, Nalice is very much corrupted. She’d likely become one of N’Zoth’s lieutenants once he is freed, being manipulated into thinking this would be the path to reestablish her flight. Probably very relevant in trying to bring her mom and uncle back to life.

[warwaged-archive]

@terraforged // WRATHION.

It had not been time enough since her last visit. Far from it, truly, matter of days that it was (and days amounted to naught to one who had seen millennia pass). Too brief, too few, too short, the blink of an eye truly, and Nalice finds herself all the more irritable due to it; or so she tells herself, that irascibility is all matter of her feelings, all her own and not caused by external forces, persistent in their pestering as they had grown to be after realizing she did not intend to heed them at all. 

Her disembodied companions were not content that she would have them shut out, and for that in the least she was content, tiniest bit of annoyance she could cause them in return. 

Journals had been filled as instructed, if minimalist in manner she had done so, and more scarce as days had past, as they had since she first sought him out. What was strictly important --- how the voices affected her --- had been noted with as much detail as to how as she felt comfortable in sharing, which meant not much detail at all beyond intensity with which she heard them and if they were few or many. They were in her head, after all; what they prodded at was no less than her every thought, and sooner she would be driven insane than to give Wrathion more domain over her than he already acquired.

Not true, not at all. You go to him even now, returning to your master like a dog on a leash. Protesting doesn’t change the truth of it; he has all the power and you none, and we could give it to you, if only you would let us help.

Scoffs at apparently nothing while descending to very same lair she had barged in last time. Do you think to fool me with sweetened words? I’m no foolish mortal to bend so easily. Situation may not have grown as dire as it had been when she finally gave in and sought out the Black Prince, but Nalice knew better than to wait for it to happen (’twas not far, truly, the blabbering already seeking to pull her towards multiple directions until she begun ripping herself apart).  She had refused to come until they begun to interfere with her basic living, ruining her focus and ability to be capable hunter. In turn, hunger only made her more desperate and their interference easier, vicious cycle she would see broken now.

Hesitates before changing into mortal guise she had worn each time she had dealt with Wrathion; the true mortals gives her pause. His Blacktalons (so many of them around, safeguarding their employer; out of sight they may be, but she could smell them easily enough) might make for an easy enough meal, close as they were. Mortals are far from being a favorite, but she’s learned to not be picky throughout everything she had to survive through.

This, she knew, was not as much thought as it was suggestion, and she shifts to human appearance at once. A worthy attempt, at least; but mortals barely made it as food, and those with armor and weapons and perhaps even carrying poison would be a stupid choice to pursue.

Most of all when she still needed Wrathion’s aid, loathe it as she did.

“But you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Talks to her incorporeal companions in manner that surely makes Wrathion’s pets think her insane; perhaps she is, Nalice thinks, difficult as it was lately to tell apart where her mind ended and Void influence begun. If losing her mind, she still has enough of it to know acting against him now would be playing into their hands, for destroying her and weakening his forces would be desirable enough outcome to them (and then and there, she found her unwillingness to follow anyone’s whims but her own rivaled only her drive to survive no matter what).

How glad she’d be to sink teeth in them and tear them apart limb from limb, how tragic it could not be done to enemies that were made of no physical matter. To get rid of them in manner that is somewhat effective, then. Strides are quick but purposeful also, leading her directly to the other dragon with apparent nonchalance that belies just how attentive Nalice is to surroundings deemed hostile. 

Lashes out even as she approaches him, regardless of how his aid had been saving grace in truth and she may not be there at all were it not for Wrathion intervening when asked to do so. Lack of progress irritated her, nevertheless; in spite of adapting his recipe accordingly to information she provided, Nalice had yet to be able to resist the voices for truly lengthy amount of time. “I must say when I came to you for help, my expectations were low and yet I expected it to be more effective than this has been so far.”

[warwaged-archive]

TAG DROP: IN CHARACTER

[warwaged-archive]

SHIPPING INFO

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER?:

Do I list all of them? I’ll list all the WoW ones.

Alleria: Alleria/Willa. I DO like Alleria and Turalyon too contrary to popular belief, I’m just super picky with how it’s done and canon is not it.

Tyrande: Tyrande/Ysera is my absolute favorite Tyrande pairing, but a few of you have been following me since I joined the wow rpc in my Tyrande blog so you also know I’m a big Tyrande/Illidan shipper askdjafnkjsdfn

Kelantir/Halduron, Thalyssra/Nera, Tiffin/Varian, Nathanos/Sylvanas, Alex/Korial, Illidan/Kael, Lor’themar/Airlia, Sindragosa/Malygos (Illia/Aedryn and Bella/Aethas also have a place in my heart but I haven’t written either Aethas or Aedryn really so I’m mentioning them but aksjfnkajsdf). There are other ships I like for some of those muses, but as far as favorites go I think that’s that. And not all of those are like, happy/healthy they’re just.....ships I like asiudhfiah

Nalice is missing from the list because I have no idea lol Waiting for the day someone will be able to win the heart of my spiteful black dragon daughter but at the same time I do not recommend it really

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO WRITE WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?:

I won’t write anything that’s non con or strictly abusive. I am willing to write toxic/problematic dynamics (Illidan and Kael being an example) as long as they’re written as that; I’m a big fan of angst so tragic relationships are a yes; but I absolutely love me some fluff and giving characters some love and good things and happiness too. So pretty much anything? Other than what I mentioned in the beginning.

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?:

Specially considering average human lifespans do not apply to many of my muses, it is more a matter of everyone involved being consenting adults really. I’m not a fan of huge age gaps if we’re talking average human lives, but I don’t really know if that applies or would be translated in any form when you’re talking ten thousand year old elves and dawn of the world years old dragons so aiushdiaushd Consenting adults is the important bit, I think. 

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?:

More or less? If there’s chemistry (and that involves writing and the characters matching but also how well I get along with the other person OOC), I’ll be down for discussing it. I was less selective in the past, I think, but I’m not really super selective even now aisudhuiah

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY ARE CONSIDERED NSFW?:

I consider NSFW as explicit content, but I try to tag everything that’s even suggestive to be safe.

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:

I like discussing ships, but not necessarily. I’ve had ships that just happened without prior discussion and that I love dearly (shoutout to DJ and our Robbcella) and I find developing it through writing and letting it happen very satisfying. But I am up for discussing stuff beforehand if I’m familiar with the mun, and even more so if we already have a ship (shoutout to Aera here). I’m 100% fine with anyone asking about a ship if we write together and you see potential, as long as you do so fully aware no is a possible answer skjdnfkandsf I do prefer to talk to people and write with them before shipping, though. 

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:

I really love ships tbh. Relationships (and here I’m using the word in the broader sense, not only romantic relationships) are my favorite when it comes to developing characters, and I love writing romantic relationships too. When I get really invested in a ship I can discuss it forever probably kajsndkfjn But I also don’t feel like everything has to be a ship or everyone has to have a romantic relationship to someone else. Some of the best bonds are often platonic, and I get as invested in (or more) platonic ships as I do romantic relationships honestly.

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?:

Some muses are, some are not. I’m alright with being multiship and writing ships in a ‘multiverse’ sort of way, and it was usually my default (I’ve never been actually singleship with any muse before Aera actually aksjndkand). I tend to be exclusive ship with a single version of a character (as with DJ’s Robb being the only Robb I ship Myrcella with, or Lully’s Kael being the only Kael I ship Illidan with), but other than that I’m usually multiship. Kelantir, Thalyssra, Aethas and Aedryn are all singleship with Aera’s muses, but everyone else is multiship.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?:

For WoW, beyond the ships I write, I like Tyrande/Ysera (did I tell y’all I love them? I love them) and Illirande a whole lot. I love Wranduin (ty and Flower for blessing my dash with good content tbh Novi), Stellagosa/Valtrois, Lorna/Tess, Thalyssra/Liadrin, Tyrande/Maiev hmmm Idk if anything else other than ships I already mentioned? I used to love Rhonin and Vereesa a whole lot back when I begun reading the WoW books, as they were in some of the first, but I’m not sure that love still stands given I like Vereesa a lot less now. 

Everything I read my mutuals writing though? Gold. ❤ And I really mean it, it often ends up with me caring a lot for ships I wasn’t initially interested in.

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:

Step 1: write with me. Step 2: talk to me. Sometimes ships just happen with Step 1. Lots of times, Step 2 is just as important. It really depends, but it really isn’t hard. I love shipping and I’m always open to discuss ships, given the muses are available for shipping. 

Tagged by: @holyforged​ and @ladyproudmoore  ❤ ty guys!

Tagging: I don’t know who already did it aksjdnkasjnd so go ahead and do it if you haven’t!