#still inspired by signalis brainrot

[raynellalaria]

A Reunion.

House Desparius, Revendreth, approximately five years after the end of the Shadowlands Operation...

Her arrival came unannounced, a sudden shimmer of the blood mirror and a soft, reverberant hum the only indication of an unwelcome guest. The Gravewing guarding the foyer stirred and snarled, slamming into the ground as the armored figure approached, black scarf drawn across the lower half of her face as golden eyes stared straight at the beast's vibrant reds, long ears poking up from her short, black hair. The Gravewing's impressive wingspan billowed across the hall, the hawklike beak of the stoneborn snorting as it sniffed out the woman. A plated hand greeted the beast's cheek, which it nuzzled, and with her other, she drew away her scarf, smiling softly.

"It's just me, Corvallis. It's just Raynell."

Her ears perked to the approach of footsteps, a tall, gaunt looking Venthyr woman striding through the foyer. Greyed, messily combed tresses frame her sunken features, and a near skeletal hand raises a finger to point at the Blood Knight.

"Your presence has been expected...if not unwelcomed. You still have a chance to leave well enough alone what burdens you've come to collect."

"You know as well as I, Confessor, that I don't intend to leave without them," Raynell retorted, stepping astride the Gravewing to confront the Venthyr. "Their power is needed...and I need to put these nightmares to rest."

"...Very well," the Venthyr rasped, letting out a heavy sigh as she stepped aside and motioned ahead to a tall set of double doors. "They are waiting for you."

Raynell nodded and stepped around the Confessor. As she approached the doors, she took a look over her shoulders. No longer did the Venthyr stand there, but in her place, an older elven woman in worn regalia, a look of sorrow on her face.

"I tried what I could to separate and recover their essences...to no avail. I am sorry, Raynell."

"...I am too," Raynell whispered, turning away to bow her head and close her eyes for a moment. With a firm push, the doors open, and into the pitch black, she strode, the doors slamming behind her as she stood in darkness.

The flicker of flame echoed in the chamber, the wall sconces brimming with warm light. At the center of a stone chamber was an altar built like a large stone sword, the lifeless stone suddenly brimming with sinewy red anima. Embedded in its center, surrounded by the blood red wisps of energy emanating from the altar, was a sword of blackened steel, a ruby gem embedded in the hilt and a gold chain with a large amethyst wrapped across the guard. A soft, ethereal, discordant hum softly emanated from the altar itself just above the soft scrape of metal boots echoing through the chamber as Raynell A'laria, Blood Knight Captain, approached the altar. She stopped short as the discordant noise suddenly rose and the brimming red energies began to coalesce. The knight winced, holding the bridge of her nose as pangs of discomfort assaulted her forehead. Her eyes opened again as the pangs subsided, a narrowed glare set upon a ghostly red figure that seemed to hover just above the greatsword.

"Vin'sarin."

The figure remained motionless, not even as much as a glance over the shoulder as it stared out ahead at the altar.

"Tch, not so much as a broody little sigh and wave? Have the years of imprisonment been so unki-"

The figure suddenly turned around, a booming, bass-heavy roar of indistinct sound shaking the stone chamber as Raynell stumbled backward, nearly toppling over. She hissed at the ghostly figure, now looking upon the skull-like visage under the hood, ears twitching as a haunting echo filled her ears, no louder than a murmur and yet beating against her eardrums like war drums.

"You returned for me..."

In the din of the echoing voice, Raynell could distinctly hear three presences melded into one. The first - the dark, deep rasp of her old comrade, Nalithas Vin'sarin, whose namesake now adorned the blade - and the phantom - before her. An upstart knight with a cruel streak, having slaughtered combatants and innocents alike before he fell only mere days into the Northrend campaign, his place taken by hers when the call finally came.

"Even after leaving me to fester in penance, to reflect upon my sin in these shadowed halls, while you walked in the light and followed the courageous hero's path...you still returned for me."

The second she was not as familiar with, but it was one revealed to her by the Lord of House Desparius, Rivan, as the former and sole occupying soul of the greatblade, Carmylla. A noble, lilting feminine voice, almost sickeningly sweet to the ears considering what cruelties the blade had carved out of would-be usurpers to Revendreth's order before she, herself, was usurped by Remornia in Denathrius's attempted purge of the House.

"Your comrade. Your friend. Your -wrath- made manifest."

The last presence made her stomach churn, the taste of bile at her throat as she struggled to keep steady in the presence of the blade. She faltered to her knees, grasping at her head. She felt her mouth open to scream but could hear nothing beyond the rapid, racing pulse of her heart and the discordant hum, now a wailing chorale. The nightmares from before rose to her mind's eye again. Pristine elven halls scattered in gore and viscera. Bloodied skulls trampled under gold-plated heels. Hands soaked in blood as they clutched to the pommel of the greatsword before her. Her gaze lifted from the blade and straight ahead as she stared at a bloodstained visage through the mirror.

The visage was hers. The last voice was hers. The visage grinned and spoke with pristine clarity in her own voice.

"What a fool."

The glass shattered, a sea of red blood flooding her vision before a distinct figure broke through: that of the phantom, the presence haunting the chamber, the altar, the very blade itself. The phantom of Vin'sarin, Sin's Severance. This time, however, there was no altar, no blade...only the disorienting swirl of red and black miasma as they occupied a space indistinct, a liminal representation of the Hell they shared.

"Now what drove you to return -here-, of all places, of all times?"

The droning echoes of the presence bombarded her ears once more, and a solid gulp clutched at her throat as she mustered a response.

"Spare me the theatrics, Vin'sarin! I have need of your power. Shadowflame threatens to engulf the work of the Emerald Dream, and my power alone is not-"

"ENOUGH," shouted Vin'sarin, the woman recoiling as the voice boomed in her ears. "You'd dare return to drag me along for your dalliances and daring-dos? We both know no penance is enough for the trails of Kaldorei blood we've spilt in the name of Silvermoon, of -your- Horde. You think protecting the dragonflight's precious little sapling will EVER make up for the ASHES you've left in your wake!?"

"And you would have me do -nothing-," the knight spat back, "and you content to DO nothing but wallow in this chamber, never to see the light of day!?"

The visage of Vin'sarin remained unmoving, but she could swear past the mask she could feel them snarl at her, feel the piercing glare behind the spiked blindfold. She glared right back, defiant, teeth grit and stance firm. A low chuckle echoed from the phantom, a hand outstretched.

"What a fool. You left here a hero unburdened. You now intend to return to your world with -our sins- crawling upon your back."

Raynell flinched at the statement. Our sins. Her mind raced with thoughts of regret, of bridges never mended and hatreds that still roiled beneath the surface. She reached out with her own plated hand, firmly grasping Vin'sarin's.

"I know what I am doing," she replied. "I won't let it end like last time."

The black and red miasma pulsed and rippled, suddenly closing in around them like waves crashing upon the shore. Raynell's vision drowned in the discombobulation, a heavy sinking feeling dragging her deeper into darkness...

She awoke with a jolt, a gasp escaping her lips as she sat up atop the altar. When had she collapsed? How did she even get to the altar in the first place? When did the sword -

The sword.

There, clasped in her gauntlets now, was Vin'sarin, Sin's Severance, the newly reborn Greatblade of Desparius. She could feel the weight, the burden, in her tensed hands. Wisps of crimson anima brimmed upon the surface of the red ruby embedded in the hilt. She carefully shuffled off of the altar and down the steps, blade slung over her shoulder. As footsteps echoed through the chamber, a voice murmured to her, an echoing phantom from the blade itself...

"Be it your will, however, then unleash me upon your foes, that they may know why I am Sin's Severance…"

(( OH WE ARE SO BACK. Had to get this out in the open because this had been sitting in the back of my mind for a good while now and I know Shadowlands stuff is kinda old/stale and the expansion itself was a giant wet fart but man I just could not get enough of the Venthyr stuff and want it to be central to Raynell's character going forward. Expect moar.

Also, just for funsies, a handy listening guide for each picture, which represents a segment of the story:

Ewige Wiederkunft - Cicada Sirens/1000 Eyes

Liminality - Cicada Sirens/1000 Eyes

Coal Ash Slurry - Cicada Sirens/1000 Eyes

Die Toteninsel (Emptiness) - Cicada Sirens/1000 Eyes

...Yes, they're all from the Signalis soundtrack. No, I refuse to elaborate. PLAY SIGNALIS. ))

[hrodvitnon]

Has shamhat been discontinued due to the never ending brainrot of Signalis?

Sadly, I'm going to say yes. I'm thinking it might be because I've gotten kinda burned out on so much Godzilla stuff, plus there's just... a lack of motivation. If I remind myself "oh, it's been a while since the last update," I don't look forward to the idea of writing it, like it became an obligation rather than the self-indulgent dumb fun it used to be. Imagine that: the thing I once used to combat burnout has become the burnout. I've even tried drawing a Godzilla project I've been meaning to do for a while, but it just wasn't coming to me.

The inspiration I get from SIGNALIS feels like a breath of fresh air. It really touches me in a way that feels emotionally fulfilling... when it's not being depressing as hell, of course. I mean, obviously I still love Godzilla, but taking a break from a hyperfixation that's lasted since 2019 seems like a good idea.