#got reminded of make it bun dem last night

[doodlepede]

i keep forgetting how much i fucking love skrillex

[bread-elf]

DWC 2020 - Day 21

Judgement

Warlords of Draenor

Deacon Hayward, a Kul'tiran man with dirty blonde hair and a gruff beard to match, sat at his usual table at the Pig and Whistle tavern. Drinking ale, flirting with the waitress, he sat upstairs as he waited for his usual contacts to come for their goods. Conducting a business in 'less than savory' deals he found Old Town the best place to cover his tracks, already littered with criminals that took all the attention of the Guards of Stormwind. A simple sailor only in Stormwind every few months, visiting his favorite eatery, though the ale tasted like piss.

The door to the tavern opens downstairs, and where Deacon sits he has a view of who comes in and out. Expecting it to be one of his contacts, but it turns out to be one he hadn't prepared on meeting this trip around, having seen her last time. Anxiety starts to swell, did he forget something? He had seen this Kaldorei get in a few scraps at the pub, beating people to a pulp with the fury worse than a sea wife.

As the Kaldorei comes closer he leans back in his seat, putting on his most charming smile to dissuade her, even though he had caught on that it just annoys her more than anything. Yet he sometimes wondered if she had a fondness of being annoyed. “Oi there, lassy!” Reaching up and running a hand through his hair as she comes closer, that hair that reminded him of the ocean waves sticking out like a sore thumb. “I- don’ think we wus supposed ta meet so soon…” As she stands by the table his smile falters, seeing blisters on her long ears and a X marked on the cheek of her pretty face. Her anger filled stare is the same as usual, yet the scars make it all the more intense. “Ope, lass, ya’ uh… Got in a bit o’ a scruff, eh?” “You have a connection to mercenaries, don’t you?” Jiroki asks as she leers down at the man, drawing a few eyes their way at her imposing nature. Deacon glances around a little wary, uncomfortable with the looks. “Lass, heheh, you know I’m just a simple sailor.” Putting emphasis on his words. “Guess I know a few sellswords…” Jiroki slams her hands on the table, causing Deacon to jump in his chair. “Cut the shit.” She hisses quietly. “I’m on a hunt. I need people to go with me, people with a backbone, hunters that can kill their mark. You’re going to bring these people to me. She will die the next I see her.” “Uh-” Deacon is a bit at a loss for words. But given how adamant and in his face she is, he starts to think. “Ya’ know I don’ run a charity here. Ya’ gonna needa-” A bag of coins lands on the table with a heavy thunk, Jiroki staring down at the Kul’tiran as he looks at it in shock. It’s a hefty back, and when he peaks inside he sees it filled entirely with gold coins. “I don’t care the price.” Jiroki straightens. “And I don’t care where you find them; they could be murderers for all I care.” Deacon purses his lips, giving a little bit of an innocent glance around before shrugging his shoulders. “Well iffin that’s wot the lady wants…” Reaching over and sliding the bag of gold towards him. “I’ll get ya’ a team.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jiroki could feel the new scar on her cheek itch as she stared at the cottage in the distance, hidden in the hills. It looked like such a quaint place, yet lurking inside is the woman whose blood she craved to spill. Beside her she could feel the cold presence of the Death Knight. A human woman, only going by the name of Jolean, though she never spoke. Instead her icy gaze pierced towards the college, waiting like a hound to be commanded. “Michael is returning.” A night elf, Moonshadow, says. Once a druid, relatively young with his deep blue hair pulled back into a bun. He had left their people years ago, using unorthodox means in their practice that were a disgrace. If A’llaen was still alive, they’d probably be around the same age. The Worgen, Michael Thyme, comes back with his pack of bloodhounds. They had scouted around the perimeter, investigating a suspicion Jiroki had. “Ya’ wer right.” Michael sniffs, his canine tongue coming out and licking along his snout. “She got some sort o’ workshop in dem hills. Ya’ want me ta rig dem explosives I brought?” “Yes.” Jiroki says firmly. “I’ll distract her. She’s probably expecting me.” Her fingers grip around the handle of her umbra crescent. She had last donned this weapon when still with the Watchers of Hyjal. But for this hunt she needed her best. Michael left to go get his explosives ready; she needed to destroy Ellie’s workshop, where she constructed the reapers she experimented with, like the ones that had killed her regiment and Gelt and Eilynne. While he prepared that, she would instigate the hunt, accompanied by Moonshadow and Jolean. Jiroki boldly walks up to the door. Uncaring of any pleasantries or surprised reactions, she brings her foot up and kicks open the door, the wooden knob splintering as it's forced open. Ellie looks over in alarm, at a work bench as she tinkered with some mechanisms. Her strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail as some oil streaked her cheek. The human has little time to react as the Kaldorei suddenly rushes in like a bat out of hell, bringing up her umbra crescent to slice it down. It meets with wood as the warlock Blinks herself away, a former mage before she went down a different path in life. She quickly rushes for the broken door, intent on making a mistake. A chill is felt down to the core as Jolean waits right outside, a broad sword in hand as she swipes it towards Ellie. The warlock manages to move just in time, but Jolean raises a hand and sends out a shadow grip, bringing the warlock back to her and cleave unto her broadsword. Ellie manages to cast a shield just in time to protect herself from it, immediately casting her own shadow bolts. Jolean raises her arms up and takes a few steps back, giving Ellie a moment to cast a raining demon bolt from the sky. Roots start to wrap around Ellie’s feet, causing her to struggle and spot the druid not far off from the cottage. His gaze focused on her as the roots begin to slowly crawl up her legs, squeezing hard. “I’m impressed Jiroki!” A crazed smile on her lips. “You’ve found me! I guess this means you want to play more games?!” Fishing into her pockets for something. “Stop her!” Jiroki shouts from the doorway of the cottage, moving with quick speed to try and get to her, but she isn’t fast enough. Having some sort of mechanism in her pocket Ellie pushes a button. The ground trembles, and from various spots mechanized reapers pull themselves out of the ground, tearing it up and dirt flies. Moonshadow starts to try and tangle the reapers with more roots, but they were coming quickly and he could only snag a few. Ellie burns the roots on her form, uncaring if the fel flames singe her clothes, invigorated by the hunt. She begins to cast some more and summons a large demon by her side, one with a long tail and four arms, brandishing swords. Jolean comes in to intercept the demon specifically, an apathetic look on the Death Knight’s features the whole time. Jiroki’s path is blocked by reapers, trying to weave around them but they are persistent. In frustration she lets out a yell as she lets the arcane erupt from her form, trying to push the reapers back and get Ellie in her sights. When a path is clear Jiroki Blinks through as well, swiping with her crescent and cleaving a slice into the woman. She yelps and moves back, throwing fire in Jiroki’s face to faze her. Ellie runs and Jiroki pursues, but more reapers get in her way. The sound of barking can be heard, and Michael’s pack returns as the bloodhounds come in full force. Michael runs among them on all fours, leaping for a reaper and tearing through its harvester clothing to get to its inner core. His hounds leap up and grab hold of the reaper with their maws, taking it down before they rush the next one. The hounds and Michael now helping take down the reapers it gives Jiroki a better opportunity to get to Ellie. Moonshadow had let his roots overrun the area, now able to capture more reapers and keep them in place. Jiroki catches up to her hunt, swiping at her legs. Ellie falls, Jiroki cutting more off than intended, but that didn’t matter. Reaching down Jiroki roughly flips Ellie onto her back, genuine fear in the eyes of the human. But even in this state she has the audacity to smirk, letting out a scoff. “How does it-” Ellie’s words are cut short as Jiroki slams her umbra crescent down onto the woman’s neck, beheading her and letting the blood spill. Ellie’s face contorts in shock and pain, the anger deep in her eyes, and then stays just like that. Jiroki takes a long, hard look, making sure to sink her crescent deep into the ground. In the background she can hear the other reapers being dismantled, Jolean doing her work now that the demon had been desummoned. After a moment she pulls back, taking the crescent out of the ground, and in a gruesome act of anger kicks the head of Ellie with all her strength, sending it far. “Jolean, Moonshadow, search the place for a Soulstone!” Turning to see them all watching her. They kept their comments to themselves, only here for the pay. “I don’t want to see her coming back, ever! Michael!” Turning to the worgen now, snapping her fingers at the corpse. “You know what to do.” Jolean and Moonshadow leave to go investigate the cottage, and later the workshop hidden in the mountains that Michael rigged with explosives. Michael sends his bloodhounds at the corpse, the ravenous dogs tearing apart the flesh. If Ellie did have a Soulstone, she wouldn’t be able to use her old body. Stepping away Jiroki clenches and unclenches her fists, a brittling rage through her as she gripped her crescent glaive. The hunt is done. Ellie is dead. If there’s a Soulstone it will be found, and it will be destroyed. But Jiroki still felt this bitter hatred for what’s been lost. Jiroki sits down on the grass. Nearby Ellie’s head lay on its side, facing away from her, that strawberry blonde hair messy with dirt and blood. Ellie’s judgement has been done, but Jiroki still craved revenge. A hand raises up to rub over her face, taking some deep breaths, trying to coax down the years upon years of anger. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jiroki sat with Sasil at a small outdoor table, the two enjoying an evening in Stormwind in Cathedral Square. They just had a pleasant meal and Sasil read the Stormwind Daily, Jiroki’s thoughts elsewhere as she looked down at a ring on her finger. “Well, it seems the efforts in Draenor are making progress.” Sasil comments while reading over the paper. “You know my Star I been meaning to share, some of my old colleagues have asked if I wanted to go with them on an expedition out there. There is a lot of activity with the Highmaul, it’s quite interesting.” “Hm…” Jiroki thumbed over the ring on her finger, Sasil having asked her hand in marriage a few weeks ago. It had been months since her hunt, and she had lost her will to do much. But Sasil brought her great comfort, and she cared for him. Gelt often passed by in her mind, still in grief, but there’s hope in the future. Sasil glances to her over the top of the paper, then begins to fold it up. “You’re always… More than welcome to join me, if you wish.” He offers. “A little excursion to a different world sounds fun, no?” “I’ve been thinking…” Jiroki traces her finger over the table they sat at, visualizing the shape of a shield. “I might start a company.” “Oh?” Sasil tilts his head curiously. “Why I- that sounds marvelous! What sort were you thinking?” “Mercenaries…” Leaning back in her chair and taking a look out towards the square, watching the people pass by. “I can’t sit still, at least not for long. And I’m tired of taking orders from others.” “Well, well, a lot of us have been there.” Sasil chuckles lightly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised to hear you’re interested in mercenaries, you’d be the best one, my Star. If that is what you wish, you have my support.” “Hm…” Jiroki hums in agreement, still lost in her thoughts. The faces of the dead pass by her mind, the decisions led by people in positions of power that led to some of those deaths. Jiroki can do better. “How does the Greyshields sound?” (( @daily-writing-challenge​ )) (( Insight to some IC inspiration to the formation of the Greyshields!))

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Just like Fire Final ch. 7

"Let em' burn. Let em' burn. They're no longer my concern. Let em' burn. Let em' burn. Time to show the world's my turn. I don't care, how they're gonna scream. Let the fire rage on, flames never seem to bother me". - @Tuiteyfruity (Let it go parody)

Claire sat in her room, for some reason Kurt didn't demand she get up early today. But she was still curious, she could hear people moving frantically outside.

She peeked out and saw heavy machinery being pulled out of the rooms.

Then she saw Kurt stomping down the hallway, red in the face. "Shut down!! Shut down!! But..but really this could work. I need the job, I need money!" he yelled at a important-looking FBI agent.  "Shut down!" Claire thought, "Does that mean, he doesn't need me anymore. I'm free?"

"You!" The agent turned his glare toward her "Don't move."

He strode over and with a small laser pen, cut off her collar. 

"Thank you for your work, Volcana. But we have other programs to fund besides military operations." he spoke that last part to Kurt. The agent man strode away leaving Kurt sputtering after him as he exited, his head whipped to glare at Claire.

"You are not going anywhere. You are still useful to me!" he grabbed her by the throat. 

"No, you've been defunded," Claire choked out, smirking at his rage.

"You think I trust YOU out there with militant information. And Project Firestorm may be defunded but I can still make money off you. Lots of our enemies would like to dissect your pretty little brain to get your powers. Oh yes. 9 million at least. You.. You have your uses." Kurt leered. 

No! This would not happen to her again, she would get free this time. She used her right hand to pull his arms off her neck and her left covering his eyes.

Then she sent a fire ball.

Kurt flew back, clutching his left eye. Claire flew past him and all the agents staring at her in terror. She burned through the wall and flew out to Metropolis.

She landed in an alleyway and started to run. She needed new clothes, and to hide her hair. She wasn't going to make that mistake again.

She spotted a store called Bella's Boutique, took a few deep breaths and went in.

It looked upscale and practically glowed with sequins, but today it was mainly deserted except for a bored saleswoman. Perfect. First she grabbed a purple scarf. Wrapping her hair under it in a bun. Then she picked a pink peep-sleeve shirt and comfortable black leather pants with high heels. She burned her old outfit and tossed the ashes into the trash.

She glanced at the counter and asked for brown eye contacts and make up. She wanted to change everything. She put blue eye shadow, black lipstick, hoping to look chic and middle-age, not that she lived under a fashionless governmental weapon program for ten years.

"Money" the saleswoman pointedly asked, holding out her hand.

Claire froze. She would probably need that for food and money. And Kurt was probably going to start hunting her down once he got his eye fixed so she would need to leave Metropolis quickly. So there was only one thing to do....

She knocked the woman out with a punch. Jumped over the counter and shook out the cash register, tucking the door bills and change in a black handbag on display. She looked at the cases filled with jewels. She wouldn't mind having some. She hadn't worn jewelry before, it was too unnecessary for a weapon. 

She melted the glass case and pulled out a ruby studded necklace, and matching bracelet plus a pair of diamond earrings. She never been so rich!

She ran out of the store, as she reached the side walk, she slowed to a walk and tried to act nonchalant but her heart was beating fast. She spent the rest of the day walking around Metropolis, eating a little at a café. Glancing nervously around her. Finally she decided to settle into an alleyway for the night. She didn't feel comfortable going to hotel. Too many security cameras. 

She had been sleeping lightly when she felt a presence surrounding her. She cracked open her eyes and saw four masked men in a circle, one with a gun. 

"Give us dem jewels and you won't get hurt!" one yelled out.  Claire rolled her eyes. She stood up, grabbed the gun and melted it. Then set a circle of fire around the men. 

The three started running and crashing into each other fell to flames, one escaped but Claire figured he would be too scared to rescue his buddies. She stayed up for some time afterwards, huddled in a corner, staring at the burned men. It reminded her of the first person she killed and she tasted the bile in her throat like it had been the first time. 

When she woke up the next morning, another figure made himself known in front of her. "Hello..." He was blonde and shifty eyes and wore a black suit that reminded her of a gangster, and held out his hand 

Claire flipped him over, pinned his arm behind his back and gripped his head to the pavement. "Woah you are a mad girl!” he groaned.  "I'm 29. A woman." Claire corrected, " And I will kill you." "I know. My man told me how you killed the others last night so I came to offer you a deal." He grunted "Let go of me and I'll tell ya." 

Claire reluctantly let him get up but still held out her hand making flames dance on her fingertips. "So I sent my men to get the Ruby Majestica from the case of Bella's Boutique, but imagine my surprise when the ruby is gone and the glass case is melted and burned. So my men let the police sniff you out, took out the police and get you. And then you killed them." He said, he didn't sound angry but just slightly awed. "I don't have the Ruby Majestica." Claire protested.

"What do ya think you’re wearing?" He pointed to her necklace.  "Oh." She blushed, but caught herself "So it's worth a lot?" "8 hundred dollars. And I'll give that 8 hundred to you if you include the bracelet and earrings," he said.  "Wait. Since the bracelet matches, shouldn't that be another 8 hundred?" Claire smirked.  "Lower price, it's just a bracelet." "$799" Claire lowered.  "800 for all." "800 plus 799 and I'm not even including the cost of earrings," Claire grabbed onto his wrist, appling pressure and heat as he struggled to ungrip her. After all, she was the one with the powers here. She could destroy his home, his possessions, himself if she wanted to. He should not be the one trying to take advantage. That would be his worst and last mistake. She’d make sure of it. 

No one was going to control her ever again. "Fine, fine $1599 just stop burning me!” He yelped, struggling to remove her iron grip.  Claire released him and smiled as he unloaded his wallet, then she handed over the jewelry. She probably had enough to leave the country by now. 

But she wasn't sure, she needed to check on a phone or computer. But she was really hungry so she needed food. And she didn't want to sleep in the alley again so she would probably have to spend some of that money on a house. And what about getting an apartment in the new country? And an actual wardrobe! The man turned around to leave when another idea struck her. 

"Wait, would you pay me again if I find more jewels. Not even just jewels. Anything you want me to get. Clothes, statues, collectables. I'd be a lot more useful than your men. After all, no one plays with fire much less fights with the likes of me." "Hmm, get stuff for me. I'd sell to the black market. We split the profits." Donnie murmured to himself, seeming to consider the idea so Claire plowed ahead as a "yes." "Sounds reasonable. But if I ever suspect you are cutting me out of the deal. Well let's not get into detail." She pulled a lock of hair as it burst into flames along with her hand. 

"Yes. We could do that." The man nodded.  "And you give me an apartment." She added. "Yes, yes. I'll give you apartment. Any more demands?" "No, partner" she emphasized the word "partner" gripping his shoulder.   "It's Donnie. What's your name, woman?" he pushed her hand off him.  Claire hesitated for a second. Could she really tell him? It's been so long since anyone used her name, but it felt nice to hear it, familiar. Yet at the same time, she didn't want to start committing crimes using her real name it would be so stupid. "Volcana, but off the job you can call me Claire Selton."