They wait to celebrate the downfall of man. If they can, they will cause it. They long to devour all light and life, to make everything as cold and empty as they are themselves. Who can understand a thing like that...?
(A multi OC blog for antagonist WoW Roleplay)
"You ask why when you think to ask what, but I feel that it is not something that can be classified as what it should or should not be. Saying 'it' is an 'it' is an odd turn of phrase in itself. It gives it's a physical presence that does not exist. At least as I see it in my eyes."
"For there is no end to it's place or presence within our world. Is it a cadre of beings centered at the end of the universe?"
"Yes."
"Is it a force of nature that deems what should or not be?"
"Yes."
"A concept only built within our minds to give a crutch to the inevitability of reality?"
"Yes."
"It is everything and nothing. It is the absence of all and the entirely of all. We will never understand it. We will never command it. We will never know it."
"But we can hear it."
"We can listen. We can learn."
"We can serve."
"For only living to learn can we die in service to the plan."
"Dying is not meant to be casual, tossed around like it is nothing. Dying is hard. Dying is awful."
"Dying is painful."
"We are not meant to die for it or live for it. For as dying can be all those things, living is just as much. It's hard. It's awful."
"It's painful."
"But we are not here to wax upon what we are to gain from 'it' or what we are to give to 'it'. We are here to spread the true message to all. The truest and greatest gift any one could ask for."
"Peace."
"Peace IS the answer. But we must struggle. For with our struggle we search for the question."
"It is the one thing we can find within it. To stare into the abyss and find the silence. To hear the nothing. To embrace the emptiness and touch that peace all hearts yearn for. From the savage orc, to the fretful man, and even to the cursed Forsaken. In sleep. In wakefulness. In dream."
"In death."
"Peace is the answer."
"We will find it. We will bask in it. We will hear it's song and spread to all those of the silent cries in their hearts."
"We can fail. We will fail. It is inevitable."
"But we can also succeed."
"Prisoners are not only brought down by catapult and siege. They are brought down by will. By tenacity. By faith."
"We but only need to feel it. Touch it. Sit with it."
"And let it fill all worlds, times, and spaces with it's pure intent."
"Peace. Is. The. Answer."
The small gathering of souls within the basement whispered it back in a chorus of shaky tones, but none could match the croak of the ravaged crone who sat upon the dirt floor. Her pale purple skin a near deathly gray from the rot that seemed to eat away from inside, a living corpse was a optimistic assessment of Oplisca Du'mere. Bone thin hands to match with her body, a naked body covered in crdue scarification done by a mad child artist's nail, and the yellowed teeth to match those claws that were brought to bear by dried broken lips. Most would call her forsaken if not for the beating heart that nested within the wasted sagging flesh, for she was alive.
This time.
For as much as the husk withered and died, the eyes within that bald tight skull burned bright. She was here and she was everywhere now. The blonde girl of so many years ago was long since twisted into nothing and gone into the very heart of her lover. She spoke of the void as a shapeless entity and truly she believed that.
But there were others. There were always others. And there was her true love.
C'thun.
The unending gaze.
Oh how she yearned for that sight, how she fought for it. Begged for it. Sacrificed for it.
"They are ready."
Weakly, Oplisca would nod as she lifted a crooked finger. "Then let us break this fast and find what hearts need."
There were no screams or chants, only the drip of blood as the gathering worked on the 'chosen'.
Peace. Is. The. Answer.
OOC:
Welcome to the An Unending Gaze, my World of Warcraft antagonist compendium for my characters that I've been working on for some time. I made this in hopes of working on my 'villainy' and exploring the less heroic side of writing. A lot of these have been side mentions to my other groups of characters who I felt deserved their own space than just playing second fiddle to other main characters. And with the ever growing cast that hyper-fixation and likely un-diagnosed ADHD, it was honestly necessary. I do my best to explore more than just mustache twirling and vile monologuing types of villains but I can't say I'm the gold standard when it comes to doing 'bad things'. But I'm learning. And if you've got pointers, critiques, or would like to help me build my skill and these characters please let me know. I am all about collaboration and 'living to learn'.
Dramatis Personae:
Oplisca Du'mere - a servant of C'thun and disciple of the Void who has discovered a horrific means to travel to worlds beyond
The Husk - a victim of the body hopping creature of the Void
Alfred Klaudin - old dead, with dull yellow eyes and a dead heart only for the Dark Lady of his murderous dreams
Daseyd - a Dark Iron architect searching for the 'plan of plans'
Kinowin Du'mere - a malicious brother brought back by means unknown but filled by blood
Tragjaan - a Lightforged Draenei with eyes only for the Light
Voldrin - an revenant of ancient times escaped from the Shadow by the touch of the Void
The Coldbringer - an agent of Chaos, forged from bronze and touched by infinity
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Stormwind had always been a city on the rise, a project of return and refurbish since the day long ago it was torched to earth by the Horde. White bricks. Blue tiles. Clear glass. A city of splendor. A city of rebirth. But those who remained in the old sections of the city still remembered and like the bones of the dead they would never forget in the face of upkeep to the grand city of man.
The Stockades were some of these bones.
Dank. Dark. Foul.
Moss leaked between old grey stone, a thought perhaps that it would add green to the prison of the Alliance but instead only add the aesthetic of the bones of old bleeding even in the depths of what those considered evil. Criminality was only evil the eye of the beholder and to the guards of Stormwind it was the harshest of places to put those who forgo the laws of man and good folk of the Eastern Kingdoms. It was the perfect place to store those undesirables who dared to sully the brightness that the Wyrnns had bled and died to build. A perfect pit to disappear in.
How a place of stone could always be perpetually wet was beyond anyone's reckon but always were the stone floors slink with water, filth, and likely blood. Who's blood was never the question but how much was going to be there today was the answer. One couldn't really question the growing black mold between brick and mortar considering the occupants who rested within rusted cells. Gnolls. Thieves. Murderers.
Oplisca had been here for a long time.
Did she miss the sun? Her blotchy, thin broken skin said 'nae'. Were the blue skies a waking dream? To her violet tinged eyes the memory of sky was a passing fancy. Was the wind still there to freshen air? The dank air kept her to a familiar routine of breathing with a steady rattle. Did the cock still crow at the coming of the day? Perhaps, but the heavy click of armored boots was all she knew now in the face of keeping some semblance of time.
This was hell, but to Oplisca it was considered a refuge. The isolation her teacher, the silence her respite, and the bars her shield. Rotting and decaying before the eyes of her jailers, the body of the half elf looked far more like the remains of Northern cousins taken by the plague all those years ago. But a heart still beat and for that those Forsaken had shunned such a creature away as well. No this place of solitude was perfect for her. It was a homecoming to all those years beyond the veil and deep into the face of the abyss where she learned the truth of everything. A place where she looked into the cosmic eye of her truest of love and felt for once truly safe.
Peace.
Peace is the answer.
The answer had guided her as always and lead her beyond the flimsy walls of this reality that those with a pulse and what some called a soul thought to keep her held at their will. She had acquiesced of course, for it was her way. Why fight the inevitable? They could not hold her truly. She had so much in this lifetime alone, what was a bit of time locked away in the bowels of a risen corpse like Stormwind? Maybe that was truly the joke that threatened to rise out that croaking cackle that made her wince just as much as remind her of mortality. The Undead took the north but the south had already been a walking corpse for so long. Yes, the irony threatened to warp her in the face of her mission.
It wasn't their fault though. They had just been blinded by the Light. Blinded by the promises of a false word in the face of the truth that was within the void. Her love had long explained it to her when she first heard the word and felt it's tender invisible guidance. A euphoria of wonder had slipped in under a nail to worm it's way into her blood before grappling her bones that caged her young heart. As a drug addled mind might constantly hunt for that first hit again and again so had she done in a feeble organic need to experience everything that first word had drowned her being in.
A kaleidoscope of existentialism that many suspected had shattered the fragile mind of a young woman. But in her truth it only gave her the guidance and truth she had always been destined for. She didn't need the Hammer. She didn't need Kinowin. She didn't need Oplisca.
There was only her love and the answer it spoke to her.
Metal moaned as there was a throb of green beyond thin skinned eyelids, the sickly scent of sulfur and brimstone wafting like a knife through the mildew of her prison cell. She would do her best not to guess at what was happening but such an entrance was not the first time she had been visited by a member of the Fel community. Time before her rusted threshold had been crossed by those seeking her council or thoughts on a subject of her past or present. The Lord Felscythe had been polite and direct as was his way, she appreciated it despite his need to demand rather than accept. But this was not the nethermancer.
This rush of energy and power was crude. Raw. Angry. Slippery.
"Interesting," the croaking voice of her broken body whispered out in the face of the one who knocked. "Be you guest or assassin this day?"
"Breaker," replied a trench of a voice deep with the roots of suffering.
The cultist would light her ruined eyes fully now, the self inflicted shadow melding with this reality's dank darkness of her filthy domicile. But for all the darkness the light that penetrated was never meant to be bred from a sun in the sky. This was pulsing sickly viridian that was rough and struggled from a dimension that claimed so many lives with promises of power. The creature before her was no exception not matter what good intentions had been planted.
Oplisca let her shoulders lift and straighten slightly with a dry creak of dismissed joints to pop with audible crack as he thin broken hands unfurled upon her knees. Her voice was soft and raspy as she felt her vocal cords begin to pluck in this fragile flesh she had kept so long. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, kaldorei?"
A night elf had graced her portal, his violet skin dull in the face of the fel energies that oozed from his oaken frame. As her eyes began to focus and strengthen the sight of the night elf suggested him to be more of the Illdari ilk than one of the forest children but the warped and ravaged face spoke to a life less of combating the Legion to a life of compromise. Blinking dully, the cultist noted the worn leather skirt dyed by ash and smoke to match the multitude of scar that coated what bare skin remained from neck to shoulder with a tidal wave of tribal tattoos. Below the shoulder would be what considered a horror show of wounds.
A rainbow of bandages wrapped about the arms and chest of the elf in a multitude of different shades of red, rust, and black as to notate wounds that never truly were healing. Or wished to be. Those same bandages matched the wrap about his eyes where one would call consider him one of the hunter of demons if not for the lack of molten fel and only the black stains of dried blood. No that energy was sourced below the windows of the soul to the very heart of the man. Even with a horror show of wounds still came the steady breath matching to the pulse of green energy that initially drawn her forth into this world and her welcomed 'guest'.
Wrapped hands would come to grip rusty bars as the night elf would speak calmly with his western accent. "I come for you."
"You are a fisherman," Oplisca croaked back.
There was a pause between the two creatures of differing source but similar goal. One of peace. One of destruction.
"How do you know this?" Spoke the voice of gated chaos.
A thin wasted hand raised to point at him. "You are branded by your people to live your profession."
"I chose my life," replied the elf, his deep voice tinged with anger as the bars shivered at his touch.
The hand lowered and matched it's other to expose ruined palms to match a submissive dip in head. "Of course, choice is all one can imagine. A freedom with all choose but many don't want. Where do you stand, gatekeeper?"
Pauses were becoming a thing now as much as the roll of the ocean's wave, in and out. The bars let out a gasp as they were released.
"I stand as the breaker of your chains."
"Why would I leave?"
"Because I need you."
"What makes you think I will help you?"
"Because I can help you."
"Do you think I need help?"
The pause again between a flurry of blows, neither of which seems like they should be capable of but each gaining breath to their quick words. Now was the moment of laying the cards between them. What did each of them know? Who would be vulnerable? Who could wait?
The gatekeeper broke. "You are wasting."
"It is inevitable," Oplisca shot back.
"We can fix it."
The living corpse paused. "Explain."
"Do you know of the ways?"
Oplisca nodded softly as she kept her palms exposed, an ancient sign of acceptance and reception. "You are a gatekeeper and touched by the depths. I am familiar."
"And you are traveler, seeing the great beyond. I am familiar."
The ravaged hands closed softly as her voice began to lose it's croak and gain strength as if pulling from an outside force she rarely bothered. "Who are you?"
"I am your breaker," the kaldorei replied as he stepped back from the bars. "We know how to help your problem. We can aid you. But we need your help as well."
"Show me."
The fel light began to grow brighter as the elf gingerly reached up to the bandages upon his chest, unwrapping them with the care of a wary surgeon. This was not the motion of unfamiliarity but of that of cautious reveal. Those careful fingers gripping flesh and pulling wide the open wound those wrappings had covered. Brighter was the light as Oplisca felt the warmth begin to emanate from between her bars, the cascade of sickly brimstone changing the grey of her cell to the pulsing of a dimension not meant for mortals. She had known the whispers of the great beyond but long had been since she had heard the roars of the far below. They were horrific and intoxicating. The curse of Fel.
"For me shall the gates be open and wide shall they be as long as I hold them," moaned out the elf as he exposed himself, the roar growing louder as it began to cause the foundations of her prison to shake with psychic force adding to the chorus of madness that began to infect the world around her. Oplisca could hear the screams of others adding to the corruption that wretched from the chest of the man before her.
And then the hand.
It was beautiful and pale, smooth to a world of fire but clutching something in it's palm. Held aloft like a torch of freedom as the oxygen of reality began to warp and tear into it. Shaking in agony it began to wither and twist before losing strength to drop it's offering to the ground with a crack of compressed thunder. There was no retreat for it as the world ruined the hand causing the flesh and bone to snap at the portal edge following it's offering in a flash of fading smoke.
Where one hand had thrust forth from another place, others had begun to claw their way out in hopes of touching reality of intoxication. But these were not as smooth and beautiful as the one. These were as one expected demons to be. Burned. Warped. Rotted.
Like her.
The elf howled in ecstasy as they began to claw their way forth from him, but then a resolve gritted his yellowed teeth as his pull turned into a push and the way was closed in a snuff of a terrible candle.
Darkness swallowed the prison again. The screams became whimpers. And the howl turned to agonized weeping.
Oplisca stared at the offering. A black stone. A soulstone. Unlike any she had seen before.
It was black. Sharp. Rough. And empty.
The cultist let her eyes swiftly rise up again to the gasping and weeping elf as he painfully began to wrap up his chest again, the tall frame swaying in the all to familiar cocktail of pain and pleasure. His bandages were red again.
At last she would speak again softly. "What is this?"
Falling to his knees the elf would gently scoop up the stone and raise it with shaking hands. "Peace."
For once in a long time, Oplisca found her dried lips cracking and breaking into a smile.
World of Warcraft Summer Themed Writing Prompts & Asks
Asks:
💦 - What is their favorite way to cool off in the summer heat?
☀ - How do they handle heat? Are they not bothered by it or are they intolerant to it?
🍹 - What is your favorite Azerothian summer refreshment?
👙 - What is your go-to summer outfit/transmog?
🌴 - Are you a fan of the beach? Why or why not?
🔥 - Do you partake in the Midsummer Fire Festival celebrations? What are your thoughts on it?
🎆 - Are you a fan of the fireworks show at the end of the Fire Festival or do you prefer to avoid them?
🎪 - Do you enjoy going to the Darkmoon Faire? Do you have a favorite ride or game there?
Prompts:
🎪 - Write about your OC having a good or bad time at the Darkmoon Faire! Are they there with someone special? Are they bee-lining to a ride or a stand with some unique faire treats?
🎆 - Write about your OC watching the spectacular firework show that signals the end of Midsummer, what is going through their head? How do they feel? Or, alternatively if they do not enjoy fireworks, write about what they are doing instead to either avoid going to the show or to help drown out the noises of the fireworks.
🔥 - Write about your OC participating in the Midsummer Fire Festival celebrations! Are they dancing around the ribbon pole? Betting with a friend who can toss the most torches? Or visiting each summer flame around the kingdoms to honor it?
🌴 - Write about your OC having a relaxing day at the beach until an unexpected and sudden storm rolls through. Do they stick around through the storm? Gather their things and get out of there? Or maybe find shelter near-by?
💃 - Your OC is going to the auction house to purchase something, but they are met with.. a disco ball and a whole lot of people dancing?! What is their reaction? Do they partake in the fun or avoid it?
🍃 - The end of summer is approaching, the days are getting cooler and fall is fast approaching. How does your OC feel about the transition from Summer to Fall? Are they excited or sad? Already looking forward to next years summer?
⛵ - The Thousand Boat Bash is taking place in Thousand Needles! Is your OC there on their own boat or a friends? Are they sailing around to somewhere specific or just enjoying the festivities while their boat is anchored in Thousand Needles?
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