Dinthoqaf the Defiler

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Zali sat on the white stone steps of a small house within the Crimson Sprawl. Quaint and ordinary from the outside as it rested upon a small plateau that on one side had a sheer drop off with its steep cliffside plummeting down to the small beach while the other side dropped off in a softer winding stepping sort of way that lead into the heart of the Sprawl. A breeze blew through the tops of the pines that scattered the plateau bringing with it the smell of the water below. Along one of the cliffs edges a small walk way had been under construction, whether it was meant to be a flightway or just a spot to take in the view was undiscernible at this stage in its construction but it was sturdy enough to hold the weight of the giant fluffy bumble bee that soon landed on it carrying Thal'anil, who slid off its back and patting and petting it as its wings vibrated and its feet stamped the ground before it took flight once more.

"Interesting choice dear." Zali smiled and stood up, smoothing out her robe skirts as she did. Thal'anil walked across the plateau towards her. His long black hair slicked back into a tight pony tail, his copper spectacles adjusted and pushed up onto the bridge of his nose better.

"Well to be honest I thought you would have less of a startle to it Mother." he grinned knowing her aversion to a great deal of insects. He looked around this little slice of the Sprawl. He had not been out this far as both his father and her had kept him bouncing around with this or that since his father had returned to his Magisterial duties and all of the turmoil had befallen Silvermoon. "So what are we doing here? And whos house is this?" his hand gestured to the house behind her.

"Your father and I have made the decision that we would like you to prepare this place to accept the children and faculty of the Academy should the need arise and an evacuation needs to take place." she smiled knowing this simple statement would unleash a volley of questions. To this she held up a finger to pre-emptively stop him.

"For now the Academy is secure but with the going ons with the Sunwell and the encroachment of the void your father would like a back up alternative to be in place in the event something does happen that would put the students in jeopardy." she paused now to allow for him to take that in.

Thal'anil scrunched his brow down as if mulling over all that she had said and having a fast paced conversation in his head before allowing the words to pour out of him as he stepped up onto the porch.

"Okay…and just how do either of you expect me to fit all of those students here? " his hand pressed against the plain wooden door before dropping to his side. "There is hundreds of them and to house that many children, much less the professors and the other staff would be..would take much more room?"

Zali smiled and placed a hand on her sons shoulder "You must have faith dear. Faith is the foundation of so many things. Faith in your fathers choice to have you take on this responsibility and faith in yourself to be able to carry it out. I already have faith in both of you so my end is secure." with that she pushed open the door revealing a small two room house, bare of anything other than the wooden floors, walls and plain windows. The only thing that was in the house was soon to be them and Zali walked in to stand in the middle of the room waiting for Thal'anil to follow. Reluctantly he did and the door closed behind them.

Thal'anil looked around the barren rooms of the house, how could she or his father expect him to turn this into a place to house so many? It would take a Goblin crew forever to undertake such a task not to mention the gold involved and would they even listen to a young man his age, much less an elf at that? So many questions raced around his head and his face must have shown it, he did not have the years experience of hiding his thoughts or emotions behind a stoney mask like his mother.

Zali touched his arm "You need to look beyond what is and see what can be. I know that in the recent weeks and months you have found yourself at the junction of new things. Things that have set your view of yourself and perhaps your role in the world into question." she smiled "I also know these new changes do not ease the mountains of questions you continue to mull around in your head about things you have glimpsed and been unwillingly privy to. And to this your father and I have employed various methods of distraction to attempt to take your mind off of such things."

As she talked she had moved back over to the door. On its frame there was a small stone plaque attached to the wood. A small indent on the smooth surface, like a worn spot of having been rubbed and fiddled with over the course of many years laid bare in the middle. She reached into her robe sleeve and produce a small oval stone, plain and grey. She held it up slightly, perched between her fingers and thumb to show to him.

"I know we put much weight on your shoulders. It is an unfortunate side effect of being the first born child of any House, much less this House that you were born into. While your father may not have always had the desire to take hold of the role of head of the Bloodcrest Household, your role in our family has always been none the less important. And you might feel that the task ahead of you now is unfair or much bigger than what you can accomplish but this is where faith in yourself and in the fact that we believe you can acommplish this task."

She held out the stone for him. He looked at her and at the stone. How would this small thing let him do what they asked of him? He exhaled through his nose and crossed the few steps to join her at the door and take the stone from her hand. He mulled it over in his fingers, its surface exceptionally smooth but not polished.

"So what is the purpose of this stone?"

"That stone will be the conduit for everything you will do here. Though you will need to create a rune for it, something of your own design and with a small amount of your own blood, that way it is bound to you and all your endeavors here." she smiled watching something in his face shift ever so slightly when she brought up the blood "And no nothing crazy is needed like some gaudy blood troll ritual where you bathe yourself in blood and awful while stomping around in some Gods forsaken swamp hollering like hit dogs to the sky. Just a simple prick of the finger and drawing your rune with the intent of having it do as you desire."

He brushed off her detest of the non elven races knowing the only reason it was being shown was that they were away from the prying eyes of the public where her words might make his father look bad in one regard or another. He roilled the stone over in his fingers one more time before giving a shrug and bringing his free hand up bite at his thumb until he heard the distinct pop of flesh between teeth and the coppery taste hit his tongue and he knew he had bitten hard enough. He pulled his thumb from his mouth and a small sheen of red began to spread, he took a breath and put the digit to the stone and began to make a rune. It was nothing eloquent but then again he wasnt using ink and a quill. The bloody rune set atop the stones surface briefly before disappearing into it as if it had never been there to begin with.

"Now. Put the stone here on the plaque."

He did as she instructed and once the stone was touched to the plaque small red veins spidered out across the building, like the netting of tent worms that nested in trees. Then they too disappeared and the stone cracked and crumbled to the floor.

"Now this is where you put your brains and your faith to the test my dear. I want you to create all that you need to make this place into what you believe would best fulfill your fathers wishes of what the Academy needs. This place is now a connection of your will and desire.." she was cut off.

"Wait, wait..Im supposed to just make things appear?" "Yes." "Using nothing but my mind and faith that I can do it?" "Yes."

There was a small scoff, the kind teenagers did when they were being on the verge of being dramatic when asked to do something seemingly impossible.

"So what? Just Im just supposed close my eyes and wave my hands to conjure up a what, chair I guess? And it will happen?"

Zali stood there hands clasped in front of her, the purse of her lips at the somewhat rudeness to which she was being spoken softened into a smirk as behind Thal'anil a small stoll began to materialize, the bits and pieces struggling a bit as he was not fully concentrating on the task at hand but more so bringing it into existance out of annoyance rather than desire. But it eventually formed, a bit lop sided and disheveled but there.

"Mother?"

She only pointed behind him "Yes that is what I expect." He turned around, mouth agape like a fish hauled onto land. He walked over and touched it to make sure it was real.

"Now. I think that should you put some more effort into it and apply some faith in yourself Im sure by the time your father comes round to see what youve done you will have worked wonders."

She patted his shoulder and moved to open the door. "I will send some people to help you. They will move things, make meals and do as you like. You will be in charge of them, how you treat them will set a precident on your character and the character of this House, so choose wisely in word and deeds. I have faith that you will do wonderfully."

~*Leave my muse a sexual confession*~ ~*Ask my muse questions about their relationships or sex lives*~ ~*Tell my muse a fantasy they have involving them*~ ~*Have my muse rate a kink*~ ~*Ask my muse for sex advice*~ ~*Send them anonymous (or not) IC sexy/love letters*~ ~*Make a pass or flirt with them IC *~

ANON IS ON! Nothing is off-limits!

(( OC: Lily Whitedawn, Blood Elf/Felblood ))

The problem was that Anguish felt like everything she lacked—warm, urgent, alive inside her... the thought made her chuckle - bright fangs, airy laugh.

Pleasure incarnate.

Who said demonic urges were ugly? She had. But they felt beautiful - especially in the moment. Especially with Anguish. It pulses down her blade, dances through her veins - thrumming, alive, making her fangs ache in a way they hadn’t in years.

Prey was close.

The crystal vibrated, resonating with his Anguish.

There.

She didn’t question it anymore - whatever she’d become, instinct came with it. Predatory. Certain. She could feel him: the once-Farstrider in the brush behind her.

“I understand the need,” she says softly, conversational.

She doesn’t turn. What could he do to her? If he spilled her blood, it would only make things better.

Let him.

She wanted him to: Look at her... young, slight, blonde. She knew the picture she painted.

Her back is yours. She thinks she’s untouchable.

Take the shot.

“I at least have an excuse for the bloodlust,” she adds, voice lilting. “You… you’re just wrong, aren’t you?” The insult does it.

The arrow bites deep into her side just as she lunges—twisting midair, hooves tearing into earth where he stood a heartbeat before.

But he’s fast - good.

She was tired of helpless prey. Screaming sailors. Weak cultists. Predictable kills. This - this was better.

The arrow burns as she rips it free. Poison sears away in her blood, and the pain-

Gods, the pain-

It coils tight with something else. Something hotter.

Rapture.

This is what the demon made me for.

Violent delights. Visceral beauty in motion.

The thought doesn’t unsettle her anymore - not when she's hunting. Anguish surges, urging her forward - hunt, harm, devour.

There’s something pure in it. Raw. Intimate.

Killing like this - close, breath to breath, eyes locked - it becomes personal.

She likes it that way - up close, heart-in-hand, teeth in your throat, drinking-down-your-last-breath kind of personal.

Magister Bloodsworn had known that before he gave her the crystal, and sent her to gather Anguish in the way someone like her did it best: by being messy. Creative. Hungry. Pure predator, no taint.

The way Anguish wove into the Chaos of her was a delight – when his voice resonated through that crystal, and half-coaxed, half-commanded, “Perform for me,” she wanted to.

She had already planned on enjoying herself.

“Whitedawn – you're quite the tall sprout now, girl. But what would your father think? We served together, you know. Before the Amani got to his patrol.”

She moves - fast, wings tucked tight as she crashes through the undergrowth -

And the words hit: her father.

This man had known him.

Another arrow-

She lets it come. Lets it bite.

Not a mistake - a calculated choice - because she sees it: the disturbed leaves, the setup, the trap he wants her to spring aside into.

She hears his voice. That’s enough - closing the distance is effortless.

Too fast to follow.

Anguish makes her stronger. Faster. Hungrier.

Good. It feels good.

It's clever, the trap – the second one that is. The one behind him, that locks every single muscle in place, as she does close the gap on him with that impossible speed.

Regret is a wasted emotion, however. Perhaps she even deserves this - rushing in like she had.

She holds his gaze as he steps in close - too close - and drives that Farstrider blade into her abdomen.

Slow. Deliberate.

The phoenix head on the hilt gleams in a blade of sunlight that cuts through the forest canopy - just like the ones on the blades her father had always worn.

It's a surreal, slow sort of moment. There's pain, oh yes – so much of it that her vocal chords feel like they're seizing, when not a single pained sound can crawl its way out. It's an eerily silent sort of torture; birdsong warbles in the distance, wind rustles and plays in the leaves... a lynx growls down in a gully.

The world continues.

But demons…

Demons love pain. They use pain.

Fuel. Pleasure. Both.

She’ll be free in seconds... she knows that. She’s endured worse.

Still -

A few seconds is an eternity, as the blade runs through her with that slow, inexorable push – and pierces its way right out of her back, when their bodies press close enough to mimic intimacy, as blood races down the pommel of his blade.

Endure. That's what Iloam and Jericho taught me, isn't it? Just fucking endure it.

It's a reminder. A reminder that even now, she can still be made fucking helpless.

In an instant, he’s on his back - darkness coiling around his throat, crushing, as his blade slides free of her body - and then into his.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

By the time the deed is well and truly done many long, loud moments later... she’s swaying slightly, his heart crushed in her clawed grip. The demonic form strains her - mind and body both - healing is faster this way... but she has to change back. Can't risk it. The Anguish. The urges.

Can't get lost in the high now, can I?

The heart drops wetly into the leaves.

Discarded.

She sets to bandaging herself before teleporting back to the city with visible holes in her torso – the nobility already talked about her enough, she didn't need to show up looking half dead, to be further humiliated in the streets. Caitiri was... old enough to hear the things said about her mother, and understand them, now. 'Whitedawn' would be her legacy too, one day... so she covers the worst of it as best she can, with the degree of blood loss.

The wounds should... heal on their own. She healed relatively fast on her own, typically; moreso, if she could harm someone else, but... he'd roused her ire to the point that she'd killed him too swiftly to use him.

( Story point aimed to be before the current raid events, as this is during The Voidspire's assault and ending. ) Dinthoqaf stood upon one of the floating Silvermoon Terrace's, looking out over the vast city towards the Voidstorm. The look upon his features was one of heavy concentration and turmoil. What was going on up there? Only so many knew that were on this side of the storm. Many could guess, many had ideas, but how do you articulate the viewpoints of hundreds of people all at once? You could sit with a hundred scribes, each writing everything out all at once, and not come close to what The Defiler was currently screening out from the rest of his flock. The Nameless were up there along with some of his Anointed, fighting back the Storm and Devouring Host in some effort to try to escape, to pull back before the Voidstorm potentially snapped shut, or worse, erupted with an outpouring of such energy that the Devouring Host would live up to its name. The interference from The Void and Sunwell was playing havoc with The Sanguine. His connection was going lax and then snapping tight as it'd reconnect across the differences. People would disappear and then reconnect, some of them during something only veterans of horrific wars could recount in some fueled drinking session at the bar, recounting violent episodes of PTSD driven carnage. Monsters, Animals, Void-Amulgamations and Aberrations, Cultists, Ethereals. So many different creatures and enemies in this place coming from under the ground, from the 'Sky' (if one could call it that), and every other direction on foot. His Nameless were being slaughtered just trying to fight back the Voidstorm's mind-destroying influence and all these images rushed into The Defiler as some of them pleaded with their 'God' to save them, to make their death have meaning amongst the order to retreat. All he could do was cradle their consciousness in their last moments, sever their abilities to feel pain, to give them some moment of bliss as he led their last thoughts to their children, their spouses, to whatever memory made their minds slow and hearts calm. A horrific trick of illusion and mental tamperance, some would say, but what can a God do for a follower beyond making their final moments as peaceful as possible? They all knew that their children in the Academy would be tended for, and The Weaver ( @zalilirah ) was already on the path of making preparations to move those children elsewhere if it somehow became breached or under threat. The generations beyond would be protected as best they could, as was his promise made to each Nameless who swore their loyalty and faith.

The Prophet was already scouting secondary fallback positions in case Silvermoon was overrun and the elves were pushed out due to the Devouring Host or fallout if the Sunwell went supernova. The White Rose ( @vyvienne ), The Vile Shadow, Lewin, and so many others were on the other side of that portal into the Storm. People, Pieces, that could not nor would be replaceable, no matter who or what came after.

Nezzok was preparing Zul'Mashar in the event of a complete and total loss of the Region and Caer Darrow was being prepared too as a final fallback. He could not nor would not depend on the success of a group of elves who historically couldn't work together without in-fighting and he wouldn't be caught unprepared. How many people from Silvermoon would be displaced? How many would lose mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, or even children, because of everything currently going on? Even now, amongst the calamity, opportunity was being prov-.. Dinthoqaf hisses as his hands come to press against his temples. Another wave of connections reestablished as his Nameless were torn apart. Willpower came to push it back, to release the pressure to give him his train of thought. He needed his people out of there, but could not run the risk of The Sanguine being overloaded by walking into the Storm himself.

An exhausted sigh slips free. The weight of leadership had its gravitas, and this was one of the moments where the chains hung heavy. A chuckle comes free. Don't you remember when things like responsibility for others wasn't a concern?

"Yes, yes. I remember my days as The Seether. You ask this as if I'm as old as that scrote, Velen." A deep chuckle rumbles up from within but never leaves.

"Responsibility comes when we earn the position and have people looking to us for answers. Guidance. I am not Deathwing, Ragnaros, or any other of the hundreds of others who led their flocks and followers to their deaths without a care on what remains if they fail, let alone what remains on if they succeed. I need the Nameless and all of my Sanctum to remain as intact as possible if we manage to accomplish what I desire and to keep our grasp upon it. We cannot afford short sighted sprints; you should know this more than most after what? How long has it been now? Two hundred years? How many host bodies have we jumped between now too? Four? Five?"

Including your son's body that you took for yourself?

"Now you try to bring ethics into this?"

Quiet came back to his mind. A stalemate made or perhaps points by each side as the two refused to budge. Dinthoqaf was not alone anymore, or rather, he was never alone, but a voice that had once been lost now returned.

You realizes you can speak to me without opening your mouth, right, or have you forgotten?

"No, I didn't forget but it makes me feel less insane to converse verbally."

It certainly doesn't help in the appearance however...

It wasn't wrong there.

His pulse thumped in his ears as he stood over the dead nerubian. Panic washed over him as he tried to recall how it all happened. The trilling noises of Azj-Kahets denizens screamed in his ears over his pulse. His hands slapped against his ears in an attempt to drown it all out, as shaking footsteps carried him back away from the body till his back came into contact with the rocky wall face he had once been trying to hide against when it all started. They had left for the night, both mother and father to whatever obligation they had entered themselves into which left himself free to slip away and make one of his many solo trips down into the depths of Azj-Kahet. It should have been like any other time. Keeping to the shadowed outskirts of Dornogal till he arrived at the tunnel that would take him to even darker shadows that would be filled with strange plants, insects and even the occasional conversation with certain Nerubians that didnt understand that he himself was not supposed to really be out in such a place alone as he was. But their lack of understanding about the soft pink fleshed thing before them was used to his advantage to mill about the suspended platforms of their cities, listening in and learning the strange and fascinating language they spoke. This alone allowed him to garner some information on where the best places to find many of the specimens of insects he had cataloged while down here.

But this time he might have wandered a bit to far, been much to engrossed in his studies that he did not realize how close he had gotten to those Nerubians settlements that did not care for the outsiders being here, intruding on their domain. And his usual brand of luck that often made his seem invisible to many threats on his sneaking abouts apparently had run out. Spotted and through the broken words he did manage to understand he knew that he was in serious trouble. The sound of spindled legs catching up to him as he pushed himself through tight, dark crevices in hopes it would deter his pursuer only to come out the other side of the crevice to be face to face with his soon to be assailant. Multiple eyes shone in the dim light taking him in as sharpened mandibles twitched and clacked. Words being spoken to fast for him to interpet them in the frantic moment of being caught. He tried to push back into the crevice once more, trying to flee back to where he should have been in the first place, bored at home and surrounded by books. Why was it that these trips meant so much, these small hours of discovery picking at his brain learning and testing himself, why were they so important?! But all those thoughts were cut short as he felt clawed fingers snag him and paw at him as he was wretched from the crevice. He yelped as he was pulled free and hoisted off the ground, legs swinging and kicking as if it mattered. His hands tore at the arms holding him in some vain attempt at freedom, terrified with tears streaming down his face, glasses long since knocked off and cast to the ether of this place. And then there was a wet squelch and the Nerubian became still, its hands still holding tight to Thal'anil but now it made these movement as if afflicted with deep hiccups that shook its body in quick jarring motions. And then he saw the tendrils that began to snake up around the creature, tightening around its body, squeezing and pushing underneath its carapace plates to protrude out of other points in its body. Blood and other wet things falling in loud moist noises to the ground it began to loose its footing and topple down to the ground. Thal'anil falling out of its grasp. And that is where he was now. This dead being in front of him. He was so sure that the trouble he would find himself in would be immeasurable but how to rectify it, how to .....and then in his panic he had been so unaware of the other person that had come along until a large meaty hand set down upon his shoulder. "Da f'ok kid" Shadow tendril lashed out at the arm attached tothe hand that touched him, squeezing and boring though it till it severed from its owner. The weight of it hung from his body as the hand still gripped him despite being severed. "Holeeh shit boy-o! Man she weren't kiddin when she said she done got rid o all dat shadah an it musta went right inta ya." the voice broke out into a cackling laughter. Thal'anil turned now as if coming to the realization that the immediate danger was paused for the moment. "Nezzok?" the question came out in more of a squeak than he would have hoped. "Ju f'okin luckeh it be boy-o. Naht dat ya couldn' da well nough on ya own from da looks o it." The gigantic troll tower over the boy as he always did, now though he reached out and took the severed arm that still clung to the boys shoulder and crammed it back against the stump, letting the limb work to reattach itself. Once satisfied he crouched down next to the boy, his words changing over to Thalassian, albeit spoken like a tourist but understandable enough. "What are ya doing out here this far from tha city?" "I got side tracked I suppose and then.." "Ya cant afford to do that ya know? Not only cause ya mother would shit cats but ya arent trained to be out here like this. Impressive as that was to watch it was only one of them. " "I know but..how did I even do that? What was even all that? And what did you mean by her getting rid of shadow, are you talking about mom?"

Nezzok laughed "Ya probably did that cause like lotsa ya kind ya have some magical ability, especially given who ya parents are. Secondly it looked to be some sort of shadow magic and the last part is not my part to say cause I dont want to listen to ya mother screech in my ear for forty days and nights. " He put a meaty hand back on the kids shoulder this time not having to worry about it being severed in a state of panic. "Look, for what ever reasons ya mother and my brother wish to let ya an ya siblings live like normal people. And as much as I'd love to see ya raised into killing machines I will not piss ya pops off. Ya mom I could care less bout if shes mad or not but ya pops I do care." "We're gonna get ya home, where ya gonna stay besides school an if ya folks take ya out. "