#SO SAYS THE SHADOW OF XAVIUS

[ladymariayuri]

Sleeper agent in my skull that activates whenever people mention satyrs. or nightmares. or druids. or malfurion stormrage. or thickets. A WELL EARNED VICTORY. WE MUST, HOWEVER, STAY VIGILANT

[sekhisadventures]

Carry Our Song, Shaman

The Depths of Azj-kahet

Their group had set out early that morning, travelling through the subterranean world. Shalandrae and Uh’kue made up the lead. The night elf druid was, as she often was, in her bear form. Stealth would be tricky given the size of their group, so she opted instead to be ready to tear apart any nerubians who found them… or at least nerubians who attacked them. Next to her was the zandalari woman, her body already glowing faintly with the astral power of the Midnight Sky.

Behind them was Nelen, the worgen having already transformed into his more bestial form to bring his enhanced senses to the fore. In his lycanthropic state his sense of smell was increased a thousandfold, the worgen able to scent encroaching threats far before they saw them.

Next to him was Sekhi, the vulpera shamaness scurrying along in the form of a spirit vulpin. Along with Nelen’s sense of smell her innate ability to hear the songs of others would alert her to oncoming threats even if they concealed their scent. The nerubians might know to hide their smell, but they couldn’t hide their song.

Lastly, Samantha brought up the rear. The void elf was the most adapt at any of them at stealth, her own talents combining with Annulus’ void-borne powers to render her virtually invisible. In this state most foes would walk right past her and never know she was there at all… until they found a dagger in their throat.

The five of them were seeking someone specific and hoping that Nelen or Sekhi could track them down even if they weren’t actively using their powers.

The strange elf-troll woman who had saved them when they first arrived in Azj-kahet, the member of the ‘forgotten tribe’ that Uh’kue had been tasked to find.

Sekhi had awoke that morning to a strange sound on the edge of her hearing, like a song but one she had only caught a snatch of before… that day on the Reckoning’s deck just as their savior had vanished into the shadows.

She was following it now, the song just barely at the edge of her hearing, as they went deeper and deeper into the alien landscape of Azj-kahet… and the further they went, the more alien it became.

It was subtle at first. A plant here, or a strange bush there, a patch of ground perhaps. Something that could be mistaken for an even more unusual fungus, or perhaps some bioluminescent moss… but the closer they got, the more prominent it became.

Shalandrae growled low as the strange plants became more common, Uh’kue nodding to her. “I hear ya sistah… somethin’ here be really fookin’ wrong. It be like that pond dey tryin’ ta heal… but… even worse…” she whispered.

Samantha frowned, hidden as she was by her talents and Annulus’ powers. The void creature was whispering to her.

“Samantha… I sense something ahead. Something very dangerous. We should turn back.” warned Annulus in the void elf’s mind.

Sam shook her head in response, “I don’t think they’ll take no for an answer Annulus, but I’ll tell them.” she whispered, then louder, “Guys. Annulus says that there’s something really bad ahead of us. We should be careful.”

The other four nodded, Sekhi letting out a small whimper, but they continued on, deeper and deeper… until they could soon go no deeper… into a realm out of nightmare.

For Shalandrae, the term may as well have been literal. The landscape brought back very uncomfortable memories of the horrors of the Emerald Nightmare when they had fought against Xavius during his opportunistic attack when the Burning Legion invaded for the final time before their defeat. The druidess growled, pawing at the ground, then making a grunt of disgust as she realized what was happening.

The ground was bleeding where she’d pawed at it!

Uh’kue hissed, stepping away. “Pfaugh! Foul!” she spat, “Dis be… really fookin’ bad mon…” she whispered, the group coming to the edge of a hillside, looking out onto the area below them.

It was like that pond that they’d found the elf-trolls working to heal… but everywhere. A huge cavern, all of it twisted and warped into something monstrous. Below them were several nerubians working feverishly, trying to gather fluid from similar ponds below.

As they watched one of the nerubians lost their footing and with a sudden cry fell into a recess of the vile liquid! The arachnid flailed and cried for help as the others scurried away, his panicked splashing sending the pool’s contents flying in all directions… and soon… the nerubian simply faded away, his cries echoing on the wind for a moment… then nothing.

“Gordrinn’s fangs… what happened to him?” whispered Nelen, the magus leaning over the side of the hill.

Sam crept up alongside him, letting Annulus’ shadows bleed away until she was visible once more. “I don’t know… Annulus says that stuff down there is the stuff Sekhi saw in Beledar’s vision. The Black Blood… but… she doesn’t know what it did to him.” she frowned.

Sekhi was whimpering, the vulpera changing back into her true form as her ears folded back. “I… I can still hear ‘im…” she whispered, “He’s cryin’, he’s beggin’ for help… but nobody else can see ‘im now…”

“We call it ‘de Unseeming.’ Once ya get drawn into it, ya be trapped. Forever.” said a voice.

All five of them jumped at the sound as the bushes rustled nearby, and a woman emerged. She had dark violet skin, quills growing through her hair, long wide pointed ears, and tusks growing from her lower jaw. Now that she was closer, they could also see that her eyes glowed emerald green, and she had clothes that incorporated thorny vines into their design as well.

Shalandrae changed back into her elf form almost immediately, the woman slowly rising as she stared at her. “You… you’re the one who saved us… the…” she trailed off, catching herself. It was as if she wanted to say something, but she wouldn’t allow herself to do so.

“I am.” replied the woman simply.

Uh’kue stood, then walked towards her. “Sistah, I be sent by Hireek, de loa o’ de Midnight Skies.” she began, “He told me ta find ya, ta help ya…” she nodded firmly, her eyes looking over the woman’s strange appearance. It was like someone had taken parts of a night elf and a troll and mixed them into a single being.

“Ya found me because I let ya find me.” she stated bluntly, looking at Uh’kue, “As for de other ting… ya come to stop da Harbinger? To end what she’s doin’ with de Black Blood?” she asked.

Nelen nodded to her, “We are. Xal’atath is a threat to all of Azeroth, and we need to stop her before her plans can be brought to fruition, whatever they might be.” he replied, “We don’t yet know why she’s using the blood, or what it’s for… but it can’t be anything good.”

“Ya be right wolfmon.” replied the woman. “We’re not supposed to reveal ourselves to outsiders. Normally I would clean up my magic and leave, possibly kill ya before I do so ya can’t tell anyone about me… but Xal’atath be powerful… too powerful for just me ‘n who I brought with me.” she frowned, taking a deep breath as if having a hard time saying what was next, “So… outsiders or not… I be needing ya help.”

Sekhi looked up at her and heard something odd. Her song, now that she could hear it clearly, sounded very very familiar to her. Strongly so. She couldn’t place it, but it was like a song she’d always known and simply forgotten about.

Finally, Samantha spoke up, “Sorry, but… we’re all thinking it, so I’m just going to ask it. What exactly are you? You look like some sort of mix of troll and elf…” she frowned.

Uh’kue glanced at her, giving the void elf a withering look, and Shalandrae’s head snapped around, then back at the woman as if afraid she would answer.

“… dat not be for ya to know, outsider. Its none of ya concern…” she replied icily, folding her arms over her chest, “But… ya can call me ‘Orweyna.’ My people work to stop da corruption caused by de Black Blood.”

Nelen nodded, “Right… well… I am Nelen Fullmoon, and these are…” he began, but Orweyna waved him down.

“It don’t matter. Ya be wanting to stop Xal’atath, once dat happen we never see each other again. But ya need somethin’ ta call me, so dat be doin’ fine.” the woman cut across Nelen’s words, clearly uncomfortable being around those who weren’t of her people.

Shalandrae seemed a bit relieved at that, the night elf stepping forward, “Well… Orweyna. We saw your people trying to heal a pool of this further out in Azj-kahet. Do you want us to help you here? Both she and I are druids, we can work with the will of nature like you can.” she offered.

Orweyna shook her head, “Not here…” she sighed, looking sad for a moment, “Dis place is too far gone. It can’t be healed. Maybe we can seal it away somehow, but it is lost. I wanted ya to see it, so ya know what happen if Xal’atath keep going. If dis be getting worse, all of Azj-kahet will become like this… and it won’t stop dere.” she frowned, narrowing her eyes. “De nerubians be harvesting de blood, carrying it into dere city. We tried to find out why, but all we could see was it being taken into a building. We couldn’t get in…”

Sekhi nodded, “Y-yeah… its bad. Xal’atath has a lotta th’ stuff there… ‘n its song…” she whimpered, shuddering at the memory, made worse by the fact that she could hear it now. It was hard on her, but she’d learned a lot over the past few years and was managing to block out the worst of it. “Its Xal’atath’s song, th’ song from th’ Black Blood, its th’ exact same as her’s…”

Orweyna nodded solemnly, “A song of conquest, of hunger. She wants to consume Azeroth ‘n everyone who live here…” she frowned.

Sekhi paused, blinking slowly at her words, “W-wait… what?” she looked up at Orweyna, her eyes wide.

Orweyna nodded to her, “I hear it too. De Song of de World.”

Sekhi’s jaw fell open as the others looked at Orweyna in surprise. In all their travels across Azeroth, to other worlds and even other planes of reality, none of them had ever encountered anyone else who shared her power.

“Really?” whispered the vulpera, stepping closer, her ears perking up. “Ya hear it too? Azeroth’s song? Not just th’ Radiant Song but…”

Orweyna smirked, just a little, “I knew as soon as I saw de arathi airship ‘n heard what was on it. It be rare, very very rare, but its not just ya.”

Sekhi was stunned. She couldn’t believe it! That’s why Orweyna’s song felt so familiar! She was tied to Azeroth’s song just like Sekhi herself was! The only song that Sekhi couldn’t hear was her own, and now she realized it… Orweyna had to have been hearing the same song Sekhi was… because it was the same song!

Sekhi opened her mouth to reply… then she froze as she heard another song. Orweyna’s eyes went wide as well, then the woman leapt backwards, “LOOK OUT!” she shouted as Sekhi yipped and dove away.

Samantha reacted quickly, diving towards the bushes away from both, but the other three couldn’t react fast enough!

From above came a bolt of darkness, slamming into the ground where Sekhi was standing mere seconds ago, the blast causing a shockwave that threw Nelen, Shalandrae, and Uh’kue backwards!

“Hmph…” came a voice from above as a figure floated into view. The trio had managed to keep from falling off the hillside, but they were right next to the edge now.

Nelen looked up, then growled in fury, “YOU!” he roared as he bared his fangs at the newcomer.

Floating above the group, shadows swirling around their body to hold them aloft, was the sha-possessed pandaren woman Xiaren! “The Harbinger had to punish Garnal for his failure at the Awakening Machine you know… he was very upset about that.” she said in a flat monotone, the woman already charging up another blast of shadows.

Nelen prepared a counterattack, channeling arcane energy into his claws until they glowed like beacons in the cavern’s shadows as Shalandrae fell back, unable to fight well at range. Uh’kue however had no issues there and was already channeling the starlight into her body as she prepared to attack alongside the mage…

But they were all focused on Xiaren… none of them thought to consider where her partner might be.

From behind them a nerubian flier soared downwards, and a man leapt off it’s back, angled towards the ground as an aura shadowfrost swirled around his weapons. Sekhi had her flute out already, prepared to attack Xiaren as well, then she heard his song and her head snapped up. “HEADS UP!” she yelped.

Shalandrae saw him approaching and raced forward, shifting into the shape of a massive bristlebear and raising one huge, clawed hand as if to smash him out of the sky, but he was moving fast now!

Garnal impacted the ground like a falling meteor, a crash echoing through the cave as his swords slammed into the ground and a wave of shadowfrost erupted out of them into the trio! Uh’kue and Nelen were blown off their feet, both of them crying out in pain as they were sent flying clear off the ledge and over it into the twisted landscape below!

The force of the blow caused Shalandrae to fall backwards even in her bristlebear form right to the edge of the hillside. She stumbled to her feet, but before she could react he raced forward and slammed his shoulder into her! Shalandrae roared in pain as she felt as if something had bitten her, then he smashed his elbow into her face and shoved her with every ounce of unholy might his nature as one of the Death Knights had given him. Shalandrae stumbled, then fell after Nelen and Uh’kue!

Garnal stood, then turned towards the other three with a rather unnerving grin. “That’s three down then.” he sneered.

Samantha smirked, “Down? You just knocked them over a hill! That’s not even far enough to hurt them!” she retorted.

“Its not the hill, girl. Its whats at the bottom.” retorted the traitorous knight.

Samantha paused, her eyes going wide as she looked around them. Pools of the Black Blood everywhere… “No.” she whispered, and then she heard it.

Panicked splashing sounds as if someone was frantically swimming towards a shoreline below.

“NO!” she shouted, then vanished in a swirl of shadow to appear down below as Sekhi shifted into her spirit form and raced after her, the vulpera’s eyes wide with fear.

Orweyna had vanished the second Xiaren had attacked, the strange druidess hiding now. She did not want to risk being seen up close by Xal’atath’s minions. The shaman raced down the path to the foot of the hill but as she reached the bottom her fears were confirmed.

The pool was shallow, not too deep to escape, but the damage had been done.

Shalandrae, Nelen, and Uh’kue were on solid ground again but they were soaked through with the Black Blood of the Old Gods! Their hair, their clothes, totally drenched with the vile fluid… and Sekhi could hear what it was doing to them, the vulpera shamaness’ face full of horror as she changed back from her spirit form.

“Ohgods…” gasped Nelen, “I… I feel sick…” he shuddered, the mage on his knees as his body began to shake.

Shalandrae was on all fours, a puddle of vomit under her face as she shuddered, “Its in my head… its in my head! GET IT OUT!” she moaned, gripping her fingers into her hair as she curled into a ball, trying to force the influence of the Black Blood out of her.

Uh’kue clawed at the ground, her eyes screwed up tight as she thrashed her head around. They had only been submerged for a few moments… but it had been enough. The Black Blood was affecting all three of them, and it was rapidly getting worse!

Above, Garnal readied his blades as he prepared to leap off, but Xiaren floated down next to him and held out her hand. “A moment longer Garnal. I want to watch this.” she replied, her lips twitching upwards even as she tried to suppress the emotion she felt, “I want them to know how it feels to know they’re going to go insane from the touch of the Void, and that nobody is going to save them…” she chuckled as, behind her the sha began to manifest, peering over her shoulder with a grin that could only be described as ‘ravenous.’

Samantha stared at them, her eyes wide, as she sheathed her daggers, moving in to try to help them. “No no no no no! Annulus, what do we do?!” she shouted, reaching for them… and suddenly her arms snapped back of their own accord.

“DO NOT TOUCH THEM SAMANTHA!” screamed Annulus in her mind, “It’s too late for them! The Black Blood is already inside them! All we can do is flee!” insisted the void creature.

“LIKE FEL WE WILL!” shouted the ren’dorei, “I’m not leaving them!”

“Samantha… you don’t understand… we must flee, or they will kill us!” warned Annulus.

Samantha paused, then looked back at a strange sound coming from them.

Shalandrae was laughing… a sick, twisted laugh… the kind of laugh that suggests delirium, a fever of the mind that hinted at madness taking root.

The druidess raised her head, and Samantha cried out and backpedaled fast. Shalandrae’s remaining eye had turned jet black, rivulets of inky tears rolling down her cheek. “Its in my heaaaaaaaaaaaaad…” she hissed, clawing at her cheeks now.

Uh’kue shuddered, shaking her head as her own eyes began to darken, “I… I can’t stop it… its in me… r-run…” she hissed through gritted teeth, the troll woman gripping her knees so tight her knuckles were turning white.

Then they heard a growling sound and Samantha felt a chill go down her spine.

Nelen was on all fours, crying the same black tears… and his beard was thickening, his teeth becoming long and sharp as his fingernails began to extend into claws.

“S-sam… Sekhi…” he snarled, his voice distorted as he tried to talk with a human shaped mouth full of rapidly growing fangs. “G-get out of here… I can’t hold it back m-much longer… The voice… it… it wants me to kill you… to… EAT you… I can’t FIGHT IT!” he whined, the sound a beast would make when terribly ill to give voice to its pain.

Sekhi whimpered, her ears folding back, “No… I… Imma shaman! I can heal ya!” she insisted, putting her bag infront of her and pulling out her instruments, “I… Drum? Healin’ waters? N-no there’s no water…” she pulled out a fiddle, “F-fire? Burn away th’ bad blood? No…” she put it down, taking out her bell for communing with earth, but the earth here was even worse off than they were! The flute was all she had left, but it was for the wind and they were miles underground!

“I… N-none of ‘em will work!” she cried out in despair, looking back up at the others. Shalandrae was shaking all over, her teeth elongating into fangs as she began to shift into her dreamsaber form, though she was trying not to. Nelen was halfway between human and worgen now, the magus fighting as hard as he could against the Black Blood’s influence, but it was clear he was losing. Uh’kue’s body wasn’t glowing with starlight anymore either. It was turning dark… too dark… like a hole in reality. A living black hole!

“Its just like the dream… Darkmoon Island…” whispered Samantha under her breath in terror, stepping back again as her mind flashed back to the nightmare she’d had after their return from the Shadowlands. Darkmoon Island, the forests deep within it, Sekhi and Nitika mad and corrupted… the victims were different, but the symptoms…

Sekhi whimpered, “… elements… help me… m-my friends need help!” she whined, gripping her flute tightly. “PLEASE AZEROTH! HELP US!” she cried out.

Then she felt something… a warm breeze, and the smell of sand in her nostrils…

Sekhi’s head snapped up, the vulpera looking around.

She was sitting next to a campfire, at a vulpera encampment, back in Vol’dun. It was nighttime, all was quiet… and yet, she heard something…

… can you hear us…

Sekhi’s eyes widened, she hadn’t heard that in years. Not since that night over a decade ago, when the voice of Azeroth first came to her. When she first put her flute to her muzzle, and the elements had danced with her, and she had become a shaman.

“Azeroth…” she whispered, looking around, “What do I do?! None of my instruments will heal ‘em! Th’ Black Blood ain’t somethin’ th’ water can wash away, or th’ fires can burn away, or anythin’ like that!” she shouted out to the empty encampment.

… join our chorus Sekhi…

“But th’ instruments won’t work! None of ‘em will! Its not somethin’ I can heal like that! What should I use?!” she called out.

… the one you haven’t yet… the fifth element…

… YOU are the instrument of this power… join our chorus Sekhi… carry our song to those who cannot hear…

“Th’ fifth… spirit? But I don’t…” she started, then she paused. Spirit… that was the only element that didn’t sound like a musical instrument to her.

It sounded like voices. The voices of all who dwelled in whatever land she was in.

Raised in song.

“Sekhi!” shouted Samantha’s voice, and suddenly she was back in the caves. Shalandrae was almost fully transformed now, Nelen’s eyes flashing dangerously in the gloom as he fought to contain his bestial side, and Uh’kue was floating off the ground now, her eyes pinpricks in a pure black space.

Sekhi blinked slowly, “… spirit… I… I know how ta fix this… how ta heal ‘em…” she whispered, then she took a deep breath.

“What? Sekhi what are you doing?” asked Samantha. Her daggers were in her hands, though it was clear she didn’t want to use them, but she was afraid that their afflicted allies might not give her the choice!

Then Sekhi invoked the one element that bound all the others together, the element of Spirit.

Up on the hill Garnal frowned as Xiaren cocked her head. “Something is wrong…” warned the death knight, raising his swords.

Xiaren raised her hand, preparing a blast of shadow at the shamaness, and as she did Sekhi began to sing. The Song of the World came from her as, for the first time, she truly joined Azeroth’s chorus.

The song reverberated around the cave, her voice carrying throughout the Maddening Deep, as Garnal let out a sudden cry of alarm! His swords were twisting in his grasp, the blades thrashing about as if trying to escape him! “WHAT?!” he snarled, fighting to keep the living weapons under control as Xiaren’s blast went wild, the pandaren woman falling to her knees and letting out a shriek of alarm as she clamped her hands over her ears! The sha dug its claws in and howled in fury and pain! Something about the song was hurting the sha!

Around the cave the nerubian workers paused, the spider-folk hearing something… stunning, incredible! They seemed to fall into a trance, unable to do anything but listen. Some of them were the more humanoid kind, like the one they had encountered in Dalaran, and they reacted quite differently. They fell to their knees and clutched at their heads and stomachs as if in severe distress, some of them falling unconscious, others just crying out in pain at the sound!

Below Uh’kue collapsed back down to the ground, the zandalari woman slowly becoming visible again as she gasped, the black blood falling off her body to pool below her, totally inert. Nelen shuddered and vomited up a glob of shadow as his body began to shrink back down into his human form, the magus raising his head as he adjusted his glasses.

Next to him Shalandrae shook out her body like a great cat, sending a spray of the vile liquid all around her as she coughed several times, then raised her head, “S-sekhi?” she managed.

Sekhi was floating slightly off the ground, her arms held out at her sides and her eyes closed as her song continued, her body glowing with the same light as Beledar, the same glow as the Azerite they saw during the Blood War.

It wasn’t just Sekhi singing either. They could hear her voice mixed into it, but each of them could hear others as well. Uh’kue heard the voices of the Zandalari peoples, other vulpera, the tortollan, and others from her homeland. Shalandrae heard the voices of the kal’dorei of Bel’ameth, as if the cave was suddenly full of her own kin. Nelen heard not voices, but a howl. Worgen voices, howling to the moon, howling to Gordrinn and Elune.

The Song of the World, Azeroth’s Song. There were no words they could recall afterwards, yet somehow, they all understood its meaning. Through the vulpera shamaness, Azeroth sang of hope, of defying those who would harm those you loved, of carrying on through a dark night for a brighter dawn… and all around them the pools of black blood boiled and rolled, the song seeming to hurt the blood of the old gods!

Up on the hill Garnal stumbled, the fanged pauldrons of his armor gnashing their teeth and crying out in fury as his blades trembled and twisted. Xiaren screamed as she pressed her hands to her ears, “NO! STOP! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THIS! NOT HERE! NOT NOW!” cried out the possessed pandaren, her sha thrashing about behind her as if trying to escape the sound!

“Xiaren!” shouted Garnal, the man not affected mentally by Sekhi’s song, but his armor was reacting with extreme violence! “A voidgate! Now! Back to the city! We MUST tell Mistress Xal’atath of this!” he called out to her!

The pandaren woman gritted her teeth tight, then her arm snapped out and a hole in reality appeared. Garnal stumbled towards it, his armor fighting him every step of the way, as Xiaren wobbled to her feet and raced after him.

Sekhi continued, Azeroth’s power shining from within her for a few moments longer, then slowly the vulpera shamaness floated back down and shivered as the glow faded. She blinked her eyes slowly as she looked around, saw Nelen, Shalandrae, and Uh’kue, and sagged with a relieved sigh.

She smiled at them and opened her mouth to tell them how happy she was to see them back to normal… but nothing came out.

She blinked, then gripped her throat and tried again, but only the barest of whispers came from her muzzle. “…” she tried, her eyes going wide as she realized what had happened.

She had channeled Azeroth’s voice. The Song of the World had come from her, using her very body to make itself heard! That had to have consequences for a mortal! Sekhi had invoked Azeroth’s voice… at the cost of her own! Singing the Song of the World had rendered her mute!

The others ran towards her as Shalandrae knelt next to her and gently felt over the vulpera’s throat. “She doesn’t seem injured…” frowned Shalandrae, “But I’m no healer. She needs Nitika.” nodded the elf. Out of all of them Dawnhoof was the most versed in the healing arts. She would know what to do for Sekhi… or if anything could be done.

“Right, we’re leaving. If that Orweyna person really wants our help she can damn well come find us next time.” nodded Nelen as he stood, “Sam?” he asked, looking around, then he froze. Samantha Montebank lay nearby, her eyes half lidded and her expression slack. Azeroth’s song had a powerful effect on anything of the Void, and that most definitely included her! She was still breathing, but she was totally unconscious!

Next Story

Previous Story

[grandsonoflightike]

Battle Against Creepy Alfonse and Creepy Veronica Part 10:  “Grey Rhea: The Immaculate One” of Grey Fodlan Chapter 2 - The Second Battle

[Background Song Is Chasing Daybreak (Rain) from Fire Emblem: Three Houses.]

Light Dimitri says "Light Dedue is truly under The Contract's Spell."

"So Is Grey Lysithea." Light Hilda says.

"It also includes Light Sylvain and Light Ashe." Shadow Petra says.

"We will free them." Shadow Edelgard says.

Subspace Alfonse says "We're getting close to the battlefield."

They make it to the Battlefield and see Light Sylvain and Light Dedue."

"I am sorry milord but you stand against Grey Rhea and so must die. " Light Dedue Says.

"No need to be so dramatic, Light Dedue. Through this will sadden Light Ingrid." Light Sylvain says.

Light Dimitri says "Grey Rhea is the Immaculate One and ally to Grey Nemesis."

Light Dedue says "That is just what the Imperial Traitor and The Subspace Order Of Heroes wants you to think."

"You are wrong. The only reason Shadow Edelgard turns against Grey Rhea is that Grey Rheà is the Immaculate One and Allied to Grey Nemesis." Light Dimitri says.

"Enough, you are making less sense than I do when I do weird things." Light Sylain says, Angrily, "Prepare to fight."

Light Dedue says, Angrily, "Yeah."

"It seems this is a contract of Divine Fury." Subspace Alfonse says.

The battle commences and The Subspace Order Of Heroes wins because they brought Witch!Light Faye who teleports around and takes any additional units besides Light Dedue And Light Sylvain.

"Light Dedue and Light Sylvain, Just think for a second. If in our series she isn't allied to Grey Nemesis, why would she work with someone who wishes to destroy the BU?" Light Bileth says.

Light Dedue and Light Sylvain say "What?" They then groan.

"Time for you two to retreat." Creepy Xavius says.

"Yes sir." Light Dedue And Light Sylvain say.

"It seems those who are the professor of their house in Grey Three Houses: Reveal Of The Fifth Path can connect with the Students of that house." Creepy Xavius says "But I have a surprise for you on the next map."

"He has a surprise?" Light Dimitri says.

"Yeah Characters usually show up in packs of 5 and Grey Rhea is a boss character in this so that means there is still a open slot for one more." Subspace Aereon says.

"Which three houses character could it be?" Subspace Alfonse says.

"I think that is the surprise." Subspace Anna Says.

TBC...

[wrath-sos-dovah]

Elf Headcanons

Elves are stinky poopoo heads who steal your lunch money and go home to brag about it to their Fey relatives, I could go on and on about how and why Elves and Fey in general suck but I won't; so let's talk about the Elves.

Night Elves:

Due to their culture being very "one with nature", Night Elves don't have bath tubs or showers within their houses but instead have public bathing ponds & lakes.

Most Night Elves are nudists but due to how the rest of the alliance thinks wear clothes to make them feel more comfortable, this is also why Night Elves where very little clothing.

Night Elf marriage is not just a union between two lovers but their families as well, so its not uncommon to find that your Night Elf partner has an entire villages worth of family members.

The needyness of Malfurion and Tyrande is common for all Night Elves, even as the Night Warrior Tyrande will go out of her way to get Malfurion to get her needyness out of her system.

Satyr:

After the fall of the Legion, the Satyr have fallen into 4 groups; Legion loyalists, followers of Xavius, Crystal and misc who just are doing their own thing.

Xavius' more monsterous from is known as a Satyr Corruptor and due to his death, other Shadow Saytr have ascended to become that breed.

While many Saytr who go to the Night Elves seek a cure for their Saytr state, some have come to accept their state and have made a more feral version of Night Elf culture.

A group of Saytrs is called a Trip, no one knows why it just is.

A common flirt for a Satyr is to enact a prank that has a focus on flowers towards the one they are interested in.

Naga:

There are 7 breeds of Naga; Commons, Sea Witches, Tri'Mak (Three tails), Brutes, Lords, Centaurs and Hierarchs (Azshara).

From bottom to top the Hierarchy of Naga culture it goes; Brutes, Commons (Male, Female), Tri'Mak (Male, Female), Lords, Sea Witches, Centaurs and finally Hierarchs (Male, Female).

While all the breeds can be born from eggs, one can transform Commons or Tri'Mak into Lords, Centaurs, Brutes or Hierarchs (depending on the gender.)

A common show of affection is to wrap oneself around their significant other.

Azshara has not taken a mate as she has not found someone worhty of becoming a fellow Hierarch.

Nightborne:

Most of Nightborne culture is one to one with the Highborne culture.

A common flirt for Nightborne is to litteraly throw money at their romantic intrest.

Most Nightborne relationships end up with one person being the others Glucose Guardian.

Nightborne are one of the most snobbish breeds of Elves with High, Blood, Felbood, San'lyn and Naga just before them in that order.

Fal'dorei:

Fal'dorei culture is very similar to Nightborne culture with the only difference being that Fal'dorei culture is more aggressive.

A romantic gesture for Fal'dorei is to rap their partner up in webbing.

Most Fal'dorei are introverted in nature, but there are a small percent of them that are extroverted.

Fal'dorei translated from Shalassian means; "Children of the Web".

High Elves:

While many say that High Elves and Blood Elves are the same appearance-wise, there are subtle differences. An example is that High Elves are lighter in skin tone and hair colour than Blood Elves.

While snobbish in nature, High Elves can in fact stop acting in such a way if it is causing issues for who ever their talking to.

It is a common dream for many High Elf women to have children, as having a child is seen as a blessing from the sun.

Most high Elves will comission poems for their romantic partners/inerests as a show of affection (most poems are about 4 hours long).

Blood Elves:

While similar to High Elves, Bloods Elves can have darker skin (ie tan, black ect.)

another difference between Blood Elves and High Elves is that Blood Elves are generally thinner due to relying on magic more than actual food and drink.

Blood Elves are only snobbish as disway people from thinking that they need help.

Polygamy is one of the most common forms of a Blood Elf relationship.

Felblood Elves:

After the Legions defeat, Most Felblood Elves have joined the Horde while others remained with the Legion or retreated to Outland to build a new home and culture.

There is currently a political debate on who is the rightful ruler after Kael'thas perished for the second time.

The Felblood Elves found in Outland have taken claim to all the abandoned Blood Elf settlements in Netherstorm.

Most of the Outland settlements have been adapted to the Felbloods new ability of flight.

San'layn/Darkfallen:

Suprisingly, the Darkfallen have a similar culture to Felblood Elves, in that they are like Blood Elf aristocracy with much more debautched activities.

San'layn society is unsuprisingly matriarchal and thus females are treated better than males with the only form of peace between the two being the Blood Prince Council.

It should come as no suprise that only Female Darkfallen can grow wings.

it is common for San'layn nobility to have harems of both living and undead beings.

Illidari:

Due to the fact that the Illidari were once just simply a group of various Demon Hunters, much of their culture is a patchwork of other Elven culture along with that of hunting what remains of the Legion.

Many Illidari have been breeding with one another and thus have been slowly making the Illidari a hybrid breed between all the living forms of Elves.

Something most people find cute about the Illidari is that they will sometimes sleep in giant piles with one another for mental & emotional comfort.

Many Illidari have been working on a permenate portal to Azeroth from Mardum, similar to the Dark Portal.

Void Elves:

Most of Void Elf culture is based around the ideals and philosophies of Alleria.

During time when the whispers of the void are too overwlehming for a Void Elf, they will take a pilgramige to Naaru like Saa'ra to bestow small parts of light within the Elf to quiet the whispers.

While Void Elves were once Blood Elves, they have tried to make their culture more like that of the original High Elves with touches of void.

Many Void Elf Warlocks focus on trying to summon Void races that are like Voidwalkers.

[alteredphoenix]

truth, thy name is blasphemy (WoW)(WIP)(Drabble)

A/N: A short, incomplete piece set right after the events of the Emerald Nightmare raid in Legion, last dated 2/18/2020 on the USB drive.

In a previous post, I mentioned that it’s a surprise no one ever brought up to Thaon Moonclaw the satyr in Cataclysm-era Ashenvale who rips out his heart to save a sick girl in Astranaar and, as a result, gets turned back into a night elf by Elune. Thaon states at the end of the raid that if people had listened to him and went out of their way to hunt down and exterminate all the satyr during the War of the Ancients, they wouldn’t have had to contend with Xavius and the other satyr.

Needless to say, that formed the basis of this fic. Unfortunately, given Thaon’s stance, I don’t think he’d buy it even for a moment if someone just happened to tell him “Well, there was one satyr that didn’t want to cause trouble anymore...”

-

“They should’ve listened to me when they had the chance,” the spirit of Thaon Moonclaw tells them as he continues to lick his paw and bathe the fur around his face in spittle. Mishka would love to take him more seriously if it didn’t look so damp. “Soon as you say jump—that’s how it should’ve been done, you know. We’d have one less problem to worry about. One less bastard satyr seducing our women with their off-key music and shitting in our rivers for the hell of it.”

“That’s,” Mishka begins to say, and can’t for the life of her come up with anything that can follow up with how out of left field those words are. So she settles with, “That’s terrible. I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Hmph. Did the satyr ever apologize for what they did?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then why should I apologize for proposing their extermination? There was neither remorse nor shame in their actions; I should not have to justify my decisions, either!” He sneezes loudly just as he puts his paw down on the floor. “Good riddance,” he growls, and looks past her. There are druids gathered in a circle where the trees give way to the open sprawl of the Dream, flowering staves in hand and curved blades drawn; life magic glows from their fingertips.

Xavius lies dead—not the bloated, red-black monstrosity the Nightmare twisted him into, but the night elf man in his vainglorious robes stained with blood and the fel light gone from his eyes. Then again, nothing seems to want to stay dead in this timeline anymore; not for very long, that is, but there’s no guarantee the Nightmare has been completely purged and, well, the night elves were never ones to leave fate to chance. She’s certain they’ll figure out what to do with his body.

“You know that won’t be the last of them, right?” Mishka says. “They’re still going to find work among the Legion, or the Twilight’s Hammer.”

“Of course. But Xavius was the progenitor of the satyr curse; so long as he’s dead, and stays that way, rest assured their numbers will cease to be...in due time. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, girl?” He gives her a hard stare. It’s the kind of stare Banchou wears...but Banchou always looks like that, it’s hard to look like anything else when your soul is shoved into a body carved and chiseled to look like you’ve had it Up To Here with everything. And Hati—Hati is just a ball of fluff, claws, and random spurts of conjured lightning strikes that’s made her hair explode into a frazzled mess on almost a daily basis. He has nothing to be or feel done about save for whatever he’s trying to dig up pushing his nose into the dirt like that, as if there’s some buried treasure that can only be found in the Dream.

So neither of them really react when she flinches at it. “I, uh--”

“Surely you don’t have a problem?”

“Well...no. But--”

“Think of it as hunting game,” Thaon says. “A means to restore balance to nature. That’s what it is.” He laughs. “That’s how it should be. You agree with me, don’t you, lad?” He turns his gaze to her companion. Like all kaldorei men Ferune towers over her by a solid two-two and a half feet, lean and sinewy with muscle beneath his leathers. The Talonclaw spear is tied to his back from a strap cinched cross-shouldered, a knife on his belt with pouches filled with crushed herbs and powders, and a dart gun around one thigh. With his physique and a touch of five o’clock shadow on his face, he could be the poster boy image of the rugged huntsman that men aspire to be and women want to be with: brave and dashing, quick and nimble, blood on his beard with the call of the wild barely restrained in his eyes and a horde of exotic beasts following him at his beck and call.

You couldn’t tell just by looking at him that he checked all those boxes. Oh, he was brave; anyone that decided to take the plunge into Shaldrassil’s depths and go deeper still into the Rift of Aln fighting satyr, corrupted dragons, Wild Gods, and an amalgamation of flesh and blood from beyond realms would be hard pressed to be called a coward. You’d have to be a fool to call anyone—the ones that made it through the excursion alive, that is—slow, too, for having made it this far.

What Ferune is, is tired. His eyes, large and hooded, are close to drooping. His ears may as well be, too (and it’s such a shame kaldorei ears are nothing like quel’dorei and sin’dorei ears, not thin and loose and upright but thicker and horizontal, and that meant he couldn’t do half the things his cousins could do to entertain themselves out of sheer boredom and amusement), but it’s shows in his face and in the way he stands. Standing, Mishka notes, in the kind of way that would see him tip over if anyone so much as breathes on him.

Then again, even without the blood on his clothes and the weariness, Ferune always looks sleepy. Even Dusk, his nightsaber companion, but you could never tell if him blinking slowly means he’s content or he’s ready to pass out right where he’s sitting. Except he’s not blinking, and Mishka can’t remember the last time he blinked. The thought sends an unholy shiver down her spine.

(That might be just the adrenal fatigue, though. Or perhaps a shred of Nightmare that managed to get into her systems; she ought to have a druid evaluate her before – or maybe after – she crashes.)

[ahvie-voidsinger]

[RP] The Vol’dun Showdown, Part 1.5

A chilling breeze whistled through the bristling sunbleached skies, picking up pockets of sand and blowing them across the towering dunes. Or, at least, the void elf was fairly certain it was a chilling breeze because it contrasted vividly with the unusual heat she felt beneath the embrace of her sentient voidcloak.

The shadows were always warm and comforting, as though coaxing a moth to the flame. She had yet to fully explore them -- and despite her adventurous nature, she was in no hurry to do so. Some things were better left hidden, buried and imprisoned.

Her voidcloak wrapped around her tightly in the wind, snugly conforming to the subtle curves of her body beneath her inky black leather bodysuit. The void elf sniffed, whether from impatience or from curiosity wasn’t clear. The refreshing gales of the windswept sands of Vol’dun smelled sugary, dry and full of dread. Wartime was afoot now more than ever, even in the aftermath of the Alliance’s invasion. Both sides were keenly aware of garrison forces maintaining a presence distant from one another, but ... it smelled good. And Ahvie didn’t like that one bit.

The desertlike sweetness of the blasted and ancient landscape reminded the crouching ren’dorei of better times in an equally parched foreign land. Back when she still drank in the Light and Shadow alike. Years ago, Alliance and Horde still fought each other amid a painfully obvious attempt from a third party to take advantage of the chaos to sneak a superweapon right under their noses. One of many Uldum campaigns, Ahvie risked a smile as the memories of her first encounter with The Seventy-Third resurfaced, warming her heart in a way the void never had.

Then, she was a blood elf clad in a much more suggestive crimson bodysuit and flowing hooded cloak. Then, she dared to disobey orders and seek social interaction with members of the Alliance. Then, she risked breaking bread and sharing music and stories with strangers that were less hostile than the Warchief had let on. Then, she had laughed, hoped and lived a waking dream of the potential both sides could find common ground.

No such camaraderie was present now. The euphoric dream of the good old days had since been twisted into a corrupted nightmare, as though Malfurion and his wardens never cleansed Xavius’ corruption from the true dream. Ahvie dreamed about what the Emerald Dream must be like, but now she wasn’t sure if those dreams were originally hers or some dark portent of the drowned god. N’Zoth drank on everyone’s desires, and sometimes hubris became manifest as cruel reflections of a world that should have been.

“Many such shadows have gone unaltered, lighting the way for the blind to see the truth of their prison. How little children learn,” Ahvie muttered to herself, barely aware of what she was saying.

Her voidcloak rustled as though the wind had blown against it, but no such breeze had returned. A sultry, girlish voice spoke in Ahvie’s head through the bond they shared.

“ThErE yOu Go AgAiN. sPeAkInG iN tHe OlD tOnGuE,” the voice said with a giggle. “wAkE uP, aHvIe.”

The void elf shuddered almost violently, and a rippled passed through her inky leather armor. Ahvie was vaguely aware of how she felt through her suit as though it had become her new skin, but her mind’s eye was pulled through to reality as a fisherman’s hook would a complacent minnow. She blinked a few times, her cerulean orbs of unnatural void light the only beacons of untruth suggesting that a creature lurked in the shadows of a rocky outcropping.

Ahvie sighed, exhaling as though only just having come up for air after a long dive. “Thanks, Perse. It’s easy to get lost in my own head lately. I miss what used to be.”

The voidcloak whom Ahvie had affectionately called ‘Perse’ laughed in an unsteady, off-key musical manner. “aS dO i, LiTtLe StOrM. i HaD fOrM, wAs CoMpLeTe, A cRiMsOn AnGeL tO sInG dEaTh In EaRs Of SaIlOrS.”

Ahvie had heard this before, but smiled internally at the mental image. Her memories were already suspect, prone to being altered or corrupted by N’Zoth, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t been the very bloody angel her cloak had been referring to. A radiant and beautiful healer, sheathed in tight and flowing red silks, commanding the hearts and minds of her fellow pirates. What remained as a kernel of doubt like a bit of food she was choking on, was whether her cloak gained sentience after her void accident … or whether Perse indeed used to be a siren of the seas who saw Ahvie as a kindred spirit, cast about in the storm roiled by the old gods.

“I bet you were beautiful and terrible to behold. A woman after my own heart,” Ahvie said with a hint of a grin.

The voidcloak hugged her tighter in certain places around her body, if only briefly, which Ahvie didn’t mind but still responded with a stifled gasp. “wE bOtH wErE, sIsTeR. wHaT sQuAlL sHaLl We FiGhT tOnIgHt?”

“We’re keeping an eye on Fey Fey. The major battles might be over for now, but she still is stationed on the front,” and as though to emphasize this, the ren’dorei leaned forward, her glowing eyes fixated on the Horde camp below.

The sun was beginning to set, and the shadows cast by the ancient ruins and rocky cliffs grew longer and deeper.

“tHiNkInG oF yOuR … hMmMm … LiTtLe SiStEr?” Perse hummed with another giggle.  Ahvie’s eyes twitched at the same time her ears did, and she relented.

“Sure, she does remind me of my family. They’re still safe, for now, in the backwaters of Eversong. Away from war. Fey… she’s —“

“sTiLl YoUnG,” followed by a pause, almost a gasp of unexpected discovery echoing in her mind. “tHe ShAdOwS wHiSpEr, AhViE.”

The elf didn’t bat an eye, her eyes focused and following the armored paladin making her way through the Horde camp. Her ears, however, began twitching again. “Don’t they always? What do they say?”

A longer pause. Maybe Perse was listening with whatever ears she had… or maybe she was listening through Ahvie’s ears. That was a weird thought.

“dAnGeR aBoUt. rEfLeCtIoNs GoInG aLtErEd. An EnIgMa RoIlInG tHe LiGhT.”

Ahvie’s eyes darted about briefly, daring to lose sight of Feyhana to scan the horizon for that disturbance both of them felt. The hidden hand of N’Zoth was distinctly heavy the past few weeks, but this was different. This was something Ahvie hadn’t felt since her last visit to Stormwind. Something familiar, but also sinister.

Ahvie squinted as her voidcloak shifted in the breeze to shield her eyes from the dimming rays of the sunset. It wasn’t as bad this time as watching Mythrax rise from the deep, but her gut told her that she should be on guard. She hopped down from her perch to the sands below, making not a sound as she landed.

Tumbling and rolling into the crevices unguarded by even the dark rangers, Ahvie’s cloak balled up around her and allowed the rogue to blend in with the inky blackness of approaching night.

As the void elf darted from shadow to shadow to avoid the radiant pools of torchlight emerging across the Horde camp, she could distinctly smell the font of Light from Fey’s heart, and felt it grow more distant, away from the camp. Toward no-mans-land… and alone.

“dAnGeRoUs To PaTrOl AlOnE. eVeN yOu RiSkEd MuCh To dO sO.”

“Ever wonder if we were together all along?”

“mMmMmMm…” Perse hummed as the pair frolicked among the growing void cast by nearby soldiers and bonfires. “mAnY oLd OnEs WeRe TraPpEd LiKe Me, RoBbEd Of ThEiR iMmOrTaL fLeSh.”

Ahvie grimaced internally internally at that, and she quickened her pace, trying to make up for lost time to more closely shadow her old friend.

Within a minute, she had reached the periphery of the Horde camp and got away with an Ahvie-like desire to cop the feel of one of the Dark Rangers before their red eyes could focus on the slippery mass of shadows left behind by the voidcloak.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the ren’dorei relaxed some as she crested one of the colossal sand dunes and put herself out of line of sight of the Horde sentries. Here, in the dimming sunlight, the absence of luminescene created periodic abysses that shifted with the rapidly cooling wind.

Ahvie spoke to Perse in her mind’s eye, swearing off using her physical voice until dawn had returned.

What do you sense, Perse?

“tHe CiRcLe Of StArS hAs WrItTeN a NeW sOnG.”

Ahvie continued trudging up the next sand bank, Fey’s beaconlike presence within earshot. She could practically taste her Light from this distance.

… And what does she sing of?

“tHaT tHe ChIlDrEn Of ThE vOiD mAkE tHeIr OwN fAtE.”

Ahvie froze in her tracks, daring to pause her friendly stalking to dwell just on that moment. That terrible, glorious, awe-inspiring thought. There were many things Ahvie couldn’t understand about the puzzles of the Void, the riddles she and others often spoke in when the old ones gripped their mind and bodies. But she knew long ago, back during the Legion invasion, that the Circle of Stars was a prisoner much like her, like Perse and like most of the void elves. Only so much more… and often was misunderstood. But the context? Why sing a song of sixpence now?

Make their own …?

“yEs. NeArBy.”

Ahvie reached out with her mind and drew on the pool of void in her corrupted heart, and teleported a few feet forward, appearing atop the sand dune in an instant. Harsh whispers and crass insane laughter as quiet as the sand crunching beneath her feet followed in her wake, only to die out with the afternoon breeze. As the tendrils of shadow peeled away from her, Ahvie looked down at where Fey had been below, her voidcloak rippling and sailing in the desert gale like a proud flag.

Feyhana was gone, but in the paladin’s stead was an ominous sinkhole in a rotted, drying patch of mud and dirt. Ahvie sprinted down to its edge, drawing on more and more void energy from around her and within to muffle the sounds of her leather against the sand. Coming to a halt at the edge of the pit, the ren’dorei crouched at the cusp and leaned forward slightly, Perse wrapping her in a concealing shroud of misty, inky night.

Feyhana was alive, and although she appeared wounded and even bloodied from the fall, her Light still beat as a lighthouse in the sea of encroaching night. Then a voice echoed from below. Not a voice, though… a whisper.

“The Light is with you, young Fey…” to which the young sin’dorei spun around at her surroundings, clad barely in the light of the setting sun. “ … but you are not a paladin yet.”

That heavy knot in her mind grew more distinct, as though one such reflection of the evening had become manifest just meters below her. Instinctively, she embraced the hissing of the void rampant in Vol’dun, and drank in the power to mask as much of her presence as possible. To become one with the void in order to hide from the void.

The flood of awareness, wisdom, experience, insanity and emotions boiled around her as a hurricane, and Ahvie almost was caught up in its floodwaters if it wasn’t for a tether of viscera and blood holding her mind and heart steady, the lone mast yet unbroken in the chittering echoes of Nyalotha.

“dOnT gO aDrIfT, sIsTeR. sTaY wItH mE. wE wIlL nOt Be sLaVeS aGaIn. NzzzzzzzOtH sEeKs A nEw SoUl FoR hIs – “

Oh Blessed Sun, thank you! What the fel is all this?!

“eVeRy ChOrUs HaS sPlInTeReD nOw ThAt ShE iS fReE. lIStEn…”

And Ahvie’s world refocused into the now, the physical world of the real, and her ears twitched as she heard quite perfectly the whisper of an entirely different entity below her, just out of sight.

“Don’t act so surprised. You should have known this was coming eventually,” said a male voice teeming with vibrato and snarky edge. Another ren’dorei.

Which would explain the familiar yet terrifying sense of kindred she could taste in the edge of her mind. She hoped against all hope that her embrace of the Old Gods’ symphony, however temporary she might have intended it to be, would keep the other void elf from precisely placing his finger on who or what she was. Or where.

If he can’t sense me at all, I might be able to tell what’s going on and maybe do something about it if Fey is in danger.

“sHe Is mOsT dEfInItElY iN dAnGeR,” Perse said in reply to her thoughts.

“The Light is indeed your ally, Fey. Strong, but fleeting,” the man mumbled in the pit below, confident. “Mine is the dark, and if nothing else, it is patient.”

Ahvie didn’t like the sound of that, and from what she could tell from Fey’s expression, neither did the young woman. Holding a hand to her wounds, Feyhana was bleeding both life and Light. And, as every creature of the night was well aware without even looking at it, the sun was quickly disappearing from view.

Ahvie tensed, drawing her twin ghostblades in each hand, their ethereal metal glowing eerily and gracefully in the growing shadows. Perse wrapped around Ahvie’s neck and face, hiding all but her eyes as the sentient garment flared out from behind her as a banner in the headwinds. The warmth of the void and the raging choir of insanity played at the periphery of Ahvie’s senses while she focused on the eye of the storm.

She waited on a knife’s edge for the right moment to save her friend if she would have to.

[everything-you-mist]

Remember Who You Are

No matter what I tried, Israva’s words kept bouncing around my head, her final jab repeating over and over at the smallest suggestion.

“You’re as demon as I am.”

I told myself from the start that it didn't matter. She was an ass, I didn't like her, why give a damn what she thought about me? But every time I started to believe myself, this nagging doubt would wonder, ‘but what if she’s right’? It bothered me. It really, really did.

I stayed by dad’s bed the entire day after the fight, refusing to shift out of owlcat. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, and I was sure that if he could see under my feathers, he’d know I’d been hurt. Dad didn’t like my refusal, but he let me do my own thing like he always did. It’s pretty rare that my dad pushes anything. I appreciate that. More than he knows, I think. Never have been good at expressing shit, especially gratitude. There’s a fine line between gratitude and grovelling and I sure as hell ain’t finding where it is.

That first day was complete shit, Israva echoed in my head more and more as the hours passed. I didn’t want to reach out to my dad for help, I didn’t want him to know Israva had kicked my ass to the curb, and that made at least part of her assessment true.

“You refuse to let people get close to you, refuse to let people comfort you.”

Well, so what? I’m Mer’Catharn! Fel, I lead it! That means strength, and I have it. I can stand on my own, I can deal with my own problems! Well, except when Dararoo got involved. Or Ricky, or Anara, or.. Or Pengfei… Dammit, Pengfei.

I couldn’t do anything. Pengfei’s death was instant, I couldn’t heal a corpse, even with the proper training I didn’t have back then. He was there and then.. Then he wasn’t. It usually goes that way when I let people in, even a little. Thalae was a bitch, but she raised me. I killed her before I even knew what was happening. I didn’t mean to, I never wanted her dead! But it happened, and I didn’t know anything about healing. No use there. I couldn’t even find Essie, the druid that started to teach me in Val’Sharah. I have no idea when she died. All I know is I couldn’t find her, even after Xavius was dead. Even my dad has nearly died several times. Every bone in his body broken one time, left to slowly go mad as parasites ate away at him slowly and painfully another.. Even one time I really thought he’d died by a blade in his throat. Every single time, I had to sit there and pray to a goddess I don’t even believe in that he’d stick around. Useless. Every single person I’ve considered anywhere near family… It’s too dangerous to give anyone that label. So okay, mom. You’re right, I refuse. There’s only so much of this I can take.

I had nightmares that night after the fight, nightmares I haven’t had in a long time of fire and blood plaguing my sleep. I woke up cold, drenched in sweat, with an ache in my paws. I spent that night pacing, trying to calm down. If I still had any access to fire, I’m sure I would have been engulfed in flames with how much my hands ached. Almost.. Missing it. It was a lot like one of my earlier breaks, pacing in the water below Ricky’s house in Pandaria, trying so hard to control the fury that threatened to bubble over at any moment. I remember my blood singing in my veins, begging to ignite back then, just as it did now. Around dawn, I left and didn’t come home.

I’m not sure why I went to Pandaria. Flying over the Peak of Serenity was painful, memories of Pengfei’s death made fresh by the fel-scarred plateaus and the inactive spires of the Legion’s portal here. The peaceful continent hadn't been spared any more than anywhere else. My shoulder ached where I had fallen, the constant beating of my wings refusing it’s every attempt to heal. I slept as little as possible, trying to escape my nightmares that were rapidly evolving with me. They were filled with  flames that were no longer red but tinted green, my double’s familiar empty smile only made worse by taking on Israva’s features, the horns and scaley skin.

I made good time to the northern shore with only a few naps, landing on the roof of what had once been Pengfei’s home. My chest hurt, being here. It’d been quiet before, but with just me here, it was so much worse.. I wanna say I broke in, but the door was unlocked. There was a thin layer of dust over everything, but all the perishable food was gone, moved out by someone. Whoever it was made sure nothing would rot, but left the house be otherwise.

Far as I could tell, nobody was living here. I hopped up on the bed, looking around and just.. Thinking. It’d been only months, and he was gone. All around me, his old paintings of Xuen stared at me. The tiger was faded, kept in the lonely house all this time, without the care his owner had provided to him. If I was any kind of poet, I’d probably have something to say about that. Still sad though, somehow.

I let myself flop back on the oversized pandaren mattress, staring up at the ceiling to avoid the painted eyes, and I had just started to drift off into another nap when I heard someone step onto the wooden porch outside.

I was up in an instant, slinking to the floor on my paws to investigate. As I looked out the open doorframe, there stood a very confused and surprised Anara.

“Hi. I wasn’t expecting to find you so fast.” We both kinda stared at each other in silence. I mean, I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? What was she even doing here? “Er.. That sounded foreboding and menacing. Of which it’s supposed to be neither! So, uh.. A friend would like to talk to you. Said it was important and you needed to hear it. And Chiori isn’t letting me sleep until he ‘stops bothering her’ so…” Her voice trailed off, and she held out her hands, looking nervous. I shook my feathers out, preparing to shift back to a form I could talk in, but Anara continued without giving me time. “Don’t worry! Time is wonky there and we shouldn’t be gone long! And if something foreboding happens, I’m ninety percent sure I can get us out in one piece!” Without another moment, dark inky shadows poured from her hands and quickly enveloped the two of us as they filled the room. I screeched, an owlcat cry of terror, but the shadows were gone as quickly as they came, taking Anara with them. I was alone in the dark house, nothing different but a strange purple tinge to everything.

I spent a few minutes looking around, trying to understand what had happened, but before I could really get into my search, I heard the sand outside being thrown by something slamming into it.

I turned immediately, keeping myself low to the ground and returning to the doorway to investigate. Out on the violet-tinted beach stood a creature, skin cracked and filled with bright fel. Great spines sprouted from it’s back and long claws fingers grasped at the air as it stares at me. It was more demon than elf, but I knew that face. Israva. And she was angry. Under my feet, I saw the sigil too late, bright blue forcing me back into my helpless elven shape. I scrambled back into the shade of the doorframe, and she had the gall to laugh as she began to approach. I was trapped. I couldn’t fly away, I couldn’t outrun her in this shape. I could only sit there on the ground, my small knife as my only defense.

“Time to meet your end, demon of mine.” she hissed, an unearthly low echo to her voice as she reached the stairs. I opened my mouth to scream, to insult her, to do something, but then, something landed on the porch, blocking most of my view. A pandaren, in dusty orange clothes. Impossible.. With a swift strike from the pandaren, Israva was thrown across the sand, paralyzed at the shoreline. I could hear her growling furiously, but it was me the Pandaren addressed.

“Child.. Have you forgotten who you are so quickly?” He turned as he spoke, looking at me with those familiar sad eyes. “To conjure up such a visage.. I would wonder if you remembered anything I taught you.” Visage? I glanced around Pengfei’s side, Israva was gone. Had she just been an illusion?

“What are you doing here?” I asked, still staring at the sand. “You died..”

“Who are you?”

I looked up at Pengfei, offended. How could he forget? But the look he gave me.. That quiet disappointment, the same look he’d given me when I woke up in his house the first time. He hadn’t forgotten.

“I’m.. I’m Allaea. You called me Lee, the last time you saw me.” My voice shook, a lump in my throat. Pengfei shook his head, settling himself on the floor and continuing to watch me.

“That is not what you told me. Who are you?” I quailed under that steady gaze. I didn’t know what to feel. I was angry, and hurt, and heartbroken, and filled with grief. He was dead, what was he doing here? I didn’t even get a hello? Just.. who am I? And where was Anara? Pengfei seemed to sense my frustration, reaching gently to the dusty cooking pot beside the door in silence. That’s what he meant..

“You mean.. That whole empty cup thing?” The words tumbled out as I thought them.

“You are Allaea Stagthorn, but what else?”

“... That’s not fair. I said all that stuff before! Things changed, things got more complicated!”

“You are Kaleala Farrunner, are you not?”

“Stop it! I don’t want that, I don’t want anything to do with her!”

“Lee..” Pengfei looked disappointed. Not angry, just.. Sad. “You are so much more than this. You’re holding onto your hatreds, your hurts, just as you were when you came into my care. Did you truly learn so little?”

“Pengfei, she abandoned me.”

“So did Haldreth.”

“Wha--” I was shocked. How did he know anything about that? “That was different, he came back.”

“So did she.”

“N-no. Pengfei, that’s not fair, look at her!”

“I am.” I looked at Pengfei in confusion, about to retort, but he continued. “A woman willing to change herself for another, not always for the better. She made choices she regrets, but she fights on anyway. A woman forged in the fires of war--” I realized where he was going. I recognized the line, the same dramatic wording I’d said so long ago.

“Stop it, that’s not fair!” I screamed. I stood, yelling in his face, but he wouldn’t stop. He kept going.

“A woman forged in the fires of war, that someday wishes to be happy.” I lashed out. I was still locked out of my forms from whatever that illusion had done, but I swung my fist at him anyway. Without much effort at all, Pengfei reached out and caught it, holding me there. Israva’s words were at the forefront of my mind, practically screaming in my ear.

“You’re as demon as I am.”

“I have already taught you everything I can, Lee. You know the truth, and you try to drive it away and refuse to look it in the eye.” Pengfei was as serene as always, his words cutting through the din like it was nothing. “Empty yourself of hatred. Let it go.” Pengfei let go of my hand with a gentle push, sending me back a few steps as he got up and walked outside.

Without looking back, Pengfei left me there on the front porch. He stepped across the sand, and onto the water like it was nothing, walking to the far shore, where two figures were waiting for him. I thought I was alone again, but the creaking of the bottom step drew my eye there, where an elf sat with her back turned to me.

“Hello..?” I stepped forward carefully, not knowing what to expect. The elf stood up silently, turning toward me. Her general shape was familiar. I recognized her face, but just about everything was off. Israva lacked the horns and cracked ridges that had been her defining features. She looked at me with the most sad eyes.. Eyes just like mine. We just stood there in silence, eyes locked. I didn’t know what to say.. I didn’t know what to do. As we stood there, the world around us melted away, the purple tints running together like paint being washed away. As it faded, so did she, leaving me there on the beach.

I let myself drop down to sit on the porch, leaning against the doorframe. Anara had somehow reappeared on the beach now that things were back to normal. In the pit of my stomach, I could feel distant anger. I should be pissed. I got tricked into whatever that was, and it had to have been Anara’s doing.. She seemed to know that too, her posture was tense and ready, defensive. But I was so tired.. I just kind of looked at her.

“So, that was…?”

“Hopefully something you needed to hear? I was hoping you’d tell me, because I was on the shore instead of the island because my brother is a jerk. Hopefully it went well? Also, would you like me to-...” She pointed to my shoulder, relaxing a bit. “Or give you a lift back to town?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Barely even hurts.” I shrugged casually and instantly regretted it. It actually really hurt. But a weird part of me wanted it to heal on it’s own. “I uh.. I got lectured about my mom. What about you?”

“Lectured about ‘eavesdropping’ and sparred with my brother. I think I’d take the lecture over that.”

“Heh.. friggin family, right?”

She laughed, brushing hair from her face, “It was good to meet you so soon, Aly. I hope you learned what you needed to. If you need anything else while you’re here, I’ll be at the temple.”

“Nah.” I shook my head, slowly getting to my feet. “Think I’m ready to go home. I’ll uh.. Send a postcard or something? You gonna be out here a while?”

“That depends on how long it takes for me to find what I’m looking for.” She smiled, turning her back to me and whistling sharply. From the opposite shore, wherever it had been hiding, a full-grown red cloud serpent came soaring over the water to Anara. Without even stopping to land, Anara was able to grab on and hoist herself into the saddle, the pair flying off toward the distant mountains. I took off not long after she left, returning the way I’d come, back to the portals and the mainland.

I spent the rest of the week in Stormwind. I wasn’t really ready to go home, I had lied to Anara, but I didn’t want to be alone anymore either. I roosted above the Watchers whenever they were grouped up, listening to the chatter as I thought to myself quietly. I’m still not sure if I’m okay. Probably not, actually. I haven’t seen Israva perched on any of the rooftops since I got back. I think she finally gave up. Probably for the best, really. I wasn’t ready to face her, after everything. If I’m honest, I don’t think I ever will be.

((Not as powerful as the last one, it was a hard one to follow up. But I had to stabilize the druid for Marquis events, and I had just watched Lion King soooo... return of dead mentor~! @crazyprophet-box-o-plots for Ricky and Haldreth mentions, @library-of-the-forgotten for Dararoo mentions, aaaaand @oldwornjournal for help with the Anara cameo (<3 ) ))

[thalsianiii]

Demons and you in RP, Part 2!

First off, I just want to thank you all for your support and kindness after my first post! It’s nice to see so many of you have taken an interest! Now, a few of you pointed out interest in other demons, i.e, ones that didn’t serve as player companions but might be used in role play plot lines. Or perhaps just curiosity because you’re an aspiring demon nerd like me. Either way, I’ve decided to finish off all I know of demon lore with a couple more posts for you all. This section will cover demon’s we’ve seen over the previous six versions of World of Warcraft prior to Legion. Finally, I’ll make a brief part 3 post with what little details we have on the brand new demons we’ve seen with Legion. Of course, as always, if I’ve left out any details you feel is important do send it my way so it can be mentioned. And if when all is said and done I’ve missed any demons you’re particularly interested in, send me a message and I can relay what I know, or direct you to a good source of canon information to do your own research! So get ready for Doctor Percival Thalsian the thirds second compendium on Demons!

Wrathguards

starting with this one because a few people pointed out that I didn’t include it in my first collection despite it having been a companion demon in previous years. The reason it was excluded is because it is no longer available in game as a companion. But they are pretty interesting and have an interesting backstory that should be shared.

The first point, is wrathguards are in fact Eredar.[1] That’s the same original race as Kil’jaden, Archimonde, and even you Draenei players. However they do have a few odd features, such as extra sets of horns and clawed feet. One theory is that these are mutations from the exposure to fel magic, similar to the broken draenei seen in warcraft III and Outland. It could also be an intentional augmentation, but this is all player speculation.

The summoning ritual for them is also explained in Jubeka’s Journal, claiming that the ritual circle to summon requires less magic runes than other demons, claiming that they respect raw power over intricate spell work.[1]

One interesting fact I discovered in my research on these ex-companions is that, based on their old in-game quotes, they actually enjoyed being Warlock minions! I make this claim based on quotes such as “I live to be commanded!”[2] and “Pleased to Slay upon command!”[2] This makes them sound like they’d be phenomenally loyal demonic bodyguards for any warlock who summoned them.

It’s worth noting that, the glyph of wrathguard appears to still be somewhere in the games system. So we may be seeing them again in a later patch!

Pitlords & Annihilan

In most cases, the Pit Lords act as commanders and generals for the legion forces. They’re some of the best representations of a cliche demon. Terrifying massive monsters that live for destruction. When you think of demons and the Burning Legion, these are the guys that should come to mind.

They also boast some of the greatest cruelty, living to brutalize and torture mortals. They would outright enslaving other demons and using them as fodder in their assaults on mortal worlds.[3]

You’ll note I purposely separate the title “Pit Lord” from the species “Annihilan” for a couple reasons. The first is because, although Annihilan are the only ones seen holding the title of Pit Lord, it is very much a military position in the legion and not the name of the demonic species. There are a few examples of demons that don’t match the titles with the species. Azzinoth, the demon from whom Illidan acquired his signature Warglaives, was of the species “Fiend” but was referred to as a Doomguard (as opposed to a Terrorguard)[4]. Another example being the Annihilan Illidan and his demon hunters fight in the short film “Harbingers - Illidan” who refers to himself as “The Doomlord Azgoth.”[5]

The second is to illustrate that the chances of you actually seeing a true ‘Pit Lord’ is pretty slim if you think about it logically. It would be the equivalence of seeing a military general out on the field with his soldiers, doesn’t happen very often if ever (In fact, only two were seen on all of Azeroth during the War of the Ancients, Mannoroth & Azgalor)[6]. However, an Annihilan of lesser power or standing would be a very reasonable option for an exceptionally powerful warlock antagonist, or perhaps a small cult. In the end, it really boils down to semantics, if you write an Annihilan in your plot as a ‘Pit Lord’ no one would really notice or judge you on it... except me...I’ll judge you.

Dreadlords & Nathrezim

The Dreadlords are equally as evil as the Annihilan, but in a very, very different way. Definitely one of the better known demons to most players. Masters of shadow magic, the Nathrezim are among the most cunning and deceptive of demons. Preferring to infiltrate mortal civilizations and cause unrest and strife from within. Once the nations were dissolved and chaos ran across their civilizations, the Dreadlords would corrupt the mortals into new breeds of demons[7]. You read that right, Dreadlords can turn people into demons. That’s right scary.

As we’ve seen multiple times in game, Dreadlords are capable of taking on the form of others to infiltrate society. Balnazaar and the Scarlet Crusade is a very good example of just how adept they are at infiltrating groups. As fanatical as the Crusaders were, how much of that was their own zeal, and how much was actually the dreadlords influence?

It’s also important to note that Dreadlords, although they’re original demons and some of the evilest, can be turned to the side of the Light. We have one example of this in Lothraxion, who is a Paladin champion in Legion.[8] Now since we only have ONE example, assuming this is common or even exists beyond this singular example is a stretch, but it’s not the only example of demonic repentance we’ve seen.

Mo’Arg & Gan’Arg

Engineers of the Burning Legion, first seen on Outland. Technically Mo’Arg Brutes, Felguards, and Fel Lords are in fact Mo’Arg as well, but for the sake of this guide we will focus specifically on the engineering demons. Mo’Arg are the larger of the two. Sporting highly modified bodies via cybernetic implants and augmentations. Gan’Arg are the stunted version of the two, sporting equally modified bodies. These engineers are incredibly intelligent and cunning, crafting siege weapons, arms, and armor for the legion’s conquest across the planet.[9]

Again, as with many demons, they aren’t strictly aligned with the legion. The Mo’Arg Engineer Sal’salabim is found in the Worlds End Tavern of Shattrath city as a quest giver, loosely working with Altrius the Sufferer, as he drinks his time away.[10]

Man’ari Eredar

Now to cover everything that is the Eredar would also involve citing the whole history of the Draenei, as they are of the same race. But the brief version is this: Man’Ari is the faction of Eredar that joined the Legion, Draenei is the faction that refused and followed Velen. So for you warlocks who like to speak in demonic (or Eredun as it is properly known), a Draenei would most certainly be able to understand you.[11] In fact during a plot line where The Conclave worked along side The Sha’Tor (a Draenei guild on WrA) I had some lovely banter between my warlock and an elder Draenei priest. Makes for super fun role play potential!

Personally, I’d say these Demons offer the best option for a really deep antagonist since they are a previous mortal race and therefore it’s much easier to make them a relatable character. They’re also a perfect example of how a mortal can become a demon. A lot of people may see roleplaying a mortal-turned-demon as somewhat of a taboo, but with multiple races acting as proof I say it’s more than fair to do so if that is your desire.

It’s also worth noting that, because they are -now- demons, they seem to possess the ability to change their shape & size through their new found fel powers. The vast mutations of Kil’Jaden are one example, or the varying size of Archimonde. It is reasonable then to speculate that all demons have the ability to change their shape and form to some degree, possibly even as far as similar transformations as the Dreadlords. But that last statement is unconfirmed and therefore is used at the writers discretion.

Void Hounds/Void Terrors

Really not much to talk about with these demons. They’re 2 headed, multi-eyed demon dogs. Similar in model to Core Hounds. Immol’thar was the only known Void Hound on azzeroth until the Sunwell patch was released. There are also a few examples in game of these creatures being summoned via shadow/void magic, making them aberrations as opposed to demons.[12]

However, Chronicle does specifically cite Void Hounds as demons that roam the twisting nether.[7] so it’s more likely that the ones considered aberrations were simply used for the model because... it’s creepy? Either way, they’re demons!

Satyr

For the most part, Satyr are once Night Elves that were ‘blessed’ with the Satyr curse Sargeras first gave to Xavius and he passed on. Although they did later discover that they could pass on the Satyr curse to other races. But the curse has weakened over the millennia and new satyr aren’t often being found.[13]

With that having been said, since Xavius has made his reappearance, along with the massive legion invasion, we’ve seen more Satyr and one could argue that he’s been giving his gift about to any one power hungry enough to accept it, until he was defeated in the Nightmare of course.

Satyr are also another race of mortals turned demon. As with the Eredar, they retain many of their kaldorei features, but sport some interesting mutations such has cloven hooves and horns. They seem to particularly enjoy corrupting and drain the land of its natural life magic. Apparently, the Satyr that have drained a lot of magic have swollen and uncloven hooves.[13] it’s a minor, and rather silly detail, but if you want to write a very old, very powerful Satyr, mention it’s hooves!

Satyr are also another example of how demons/demonic entities can repent and wish to atone for their sins. Avrus Illwhisper is an example of this, and through a quest is actually redeemed and returned to his former night elf form.[14]

Conclusion

So there you have it. Most of the demons we’ve seen over the years outside of those that warlocks summon in-game. Some of them are rich with lore and back story. Others, not so much. But as we can see they all have different levels of depth and personality that can be written and used for a myriad of different stories and plots. Many of these demons of course make for good antagonists, but with multiple sources of demonic repentance over the years it is also possible to have them written in as individuals who want to return to the side of good.

References

1) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Wrathguard

2) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Wrathguard_(warlock_minion)

3) World of Warcraft Chronicle: Volume 1 (pg 22)

4) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Azzinoth

5) Harbingers- Illidan https://youtu.be/g4RXrI6ZGPk?t=2m24s

6) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Annihilan

7) World of Warcraft Chronicle: Volume 1 (pg 21)

8) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Lothraxion

9) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Mo%27arg

10) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Sal%27salabim

11) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Eredar

12) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Void_hound

13) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Satyr

14) http://wow.gamepedia.com/Avrus_Illwhisper

[ladymariayuri]

SO SAYS THE SHADOW OF XAVIUS