The Wolfen One

As the Lord of House Stygian, I have always seen myself as the Father of the children. The children are the patrons, they are my family therefore the most dear to me. I would sacrifice limb and life for any underneath my banner, but I cannot stand when they return the favor. My own uncontrolled rage at the recent attacks upon my house; Syvard being forced through anguish, Miss Anniles being subjected to the same torment of her lover, Zevaron being captured, or even killed I must know the difference! I stood in front of a home near the Stormwind Graveyard with Sigrid, and Shient in tow. I didn't exactly understand why the assailant had chosen this home, nor could I understand the lack of defenses around it. . . Maybe, she didn't expect to be caught so early within her trivial pursuit of power. Wielding my brother's blade, the ruthless item would most likely destroy the user if precautions weren't taken against the overwhelming whispers coming from its embodiment. I took a casted glance to either side of me, with a single question leaving my lips. "Ready?"

Shient nodded, raising his right hand with a trollish token within the center of his palm. The item itself could detect a dense shadow's presence through walls, and stone that would otherwise protect against conventional means of tracking. "Ready." He said with confidence uplifting in his spirits.

"I'm ready, Lord Linathus." Sigrid responded with her defensive barrier within arm, her dolt arm using her weapon for tonight's excursion but I doubt that we would come underneath any serious stress that I wouldn't be able to handle on my own.

Together, we opened the door to a rather neatly cleaned small home. The hearth was lit, providing warmth throughout the room as the minor details to where the placement of desk, and bed were pressed against walls. It seemed spacey without too much furniture as I lifted the Troll's Shadowhunter token with a crushing pressure to activate the sigil as I watched the floorboards underneath the bed illuminate. "This is going to be too easy. ." I lowered the item, and pocketed it before approaching the frame of the bed. Lifting, and pressing the entire frame against the wall to provide vision to a entrance to some cellar below. I could hear Shient laughing behind my ear. Clearly, he wasn't phased at all. Sigrid seemed to be inspecting the room for traps, mind her that she called this silent approach idiocy. Spies lurked within our ranks, and it was difficult to clearly inform without having the information tampered with. I grappled upon a leather rope to lift the floorboards, the drop in staircases was steep as I began to descend.

Sigrid sheathed her sword to replace the weaponry with assistance, raising her hand as the Light's magic weaved into her palm to illuminate at least five feet in either direction as we began to walk a natural cavern system. My own hand upon the Shadowhunter's sigil to begin observing where the information told us to turn into. . It wasn't long before we had entered an expansive space where oceanic illumination devoured Sigrid's own light source. She quelled her magic, and drew her sword as I stared forward to the seemingly endless room. I noticed near the center upon a podium  was a linen wrapped greatsword. Piercing the stone roughly four inches to provide stability, I glanced to see Zevaron strapped down to a table at the far corner without his clothes. "Sigrid, tend to Zevaron! I'll watch this door while Shient grabs the artifact."

The orders were barked as the two moved into their respectable places, though I heard something shift, and move within the shadows behind me causing my head to spin. I saw nothing, only observing Shient removing the blade from the stone, and Sigrid addressing Zevaron's wounds. "His lips are sutured, and he appears to be unconscious!" I heard Sigrid yell to me, I locked my eyes with her to beckon her back over, something wasn't right. This was too easy, how did I not see it before? The beast was down here with us, and I immediately charged to shove Shient out of my way in order to sprint towards the unsuspecting Sigrid, no one could see it. . I could feel it. . . I observed as the flow of raw mana began to destroy the pillars supporting the room within their cores causing the entire room to shift as large rocks collapsed away from the ceiling. "SIGRID!" I screamed, with an outreached hand as I felt the puncture within my right shoulder. . A blade? Slowly canting my head in the direction of to see an enormous blackened weapon through my appendage as blood flowed freely from the wound. Pattering the ground in fluids, as I fell away only to see more rocks nearing Sigrid's position. . She was holding her holy shield against an enormous obsidian mass which encroached upon her position. "SIGRID! WE NEED TO GO!" Shient was strangely unresponsive, so I was forced to sprint to grapple the elf in order to ensure his own safety; wrapped within my arms we managed to the staircase against. I could feel a holy radiance behind me, though the force of a collapsed room beneath caused air pressure to throw me through the house. Shient in tow, I began to limp through the door as the ceiling within this fractured, wooden frames split as the flooring fell away into an endless expanse which I could not see the bottom of. . The home was sinking, I busted through the door as the entire decorative masonry in front had fallen atop of me, where everything became black. . .

. . . The art of stealth, and subtle assault is consistent with your sound, weaponry, and of course the target which your assaulting must be properly positioned to be removed without a sound. . At least, this is what I had expected when I had put Syvard Snaresven in charge of bringing Zevaron to me, the foolish bastard didn't have a thing coming for him. I awaited with my home of Stormwind as the familiar feral worgen dragged in the Liege-Lord by his hair, and tossed him towards my desk. My home itself wasn't too cluttered, the desk within the center of the room in front of the heart with my chair to the flames. The bed, and bookshelves layered in papers, and books as I glanced towards the Liege-Lord Zevaron Stygian with a hint of amusement. . My name is Vermillion Draekir De'lanish, daughter of Reidiv Hashi De'lanish, or. . Embodiment you could say. “. . Lord! A pleasure to have you on my doorstep, please come in.” I laughed a fair amount, rising from my desk with my attire only being my evening gown. I hadn't expected Syvard to do so well, so I met eyes with the feral worgen. My right hand approached with a gentle whisk of the appendage, “Release mental tension, walk back home. . .” My audible incantation began to undo the weaves of my spells over his brain as the Roseguard simply. . . left. . Where? I'm unsure.

. . . The eighteenth hour into Operation: Seize and Secure, there was an immense amount of progress within the keep! I had managed to surround myself with the family of Stygian once more before returning to my own encampment outside of the Garrison. I, was the bastion of defense for their backs. I stood as the final vanguard between Stygian becoming overrun with reinforcements. You could say that I was of more importance than the targets within those walls. Nothing truly bothered me about not being with them as they attempted to apprehend my devious sibling, and his rebellious antics in the midst of becoming but a distant memory. As the Lord of my house, how could I trust my soldiers I lead if I didn't offer them the same support that they did for me? I was nestled within my tent at the time of the Guard's arrival.

“Sire,” The voice from the outside of my temporary home began with a startled tone. “. . An encroaching force was spotted by one of your Shadowguard. Roughly sixty troops in total. What do you wish us to do?” My own smile crept upon my lips in an amused tone, what would that number do against my own? The ten holding shields to an approaching mass of sixty. . . The thought of my own demise tweaked my mania into overdrive as I was soon fleeting from the tent. Leather bracers the only armaments of my attire, the rest would have been simple cloth and other pieces for resting.

“. . . Gather my men. . Prepare for a full defense, tell them to create a diversion as I prepare my own ability to assist in removing these pests from MY doorstep.” I spoke with the lower octave required for any form of intimidation. The scout flew with fleeted-footsteps to raise the alarm within our encampment as my own position changed instantaneously with a brilliant verdant mist enveloping my appendages to whisk me to the higher wall of the Garrison. Never once did I put my back to the fighting, though I now required a perfect aim to eliminate the majority. . .

The scent of honeysuckle stung the air, the marsh overwhelming my senses though I felt a sense of relief as many of my memories seemed to bring back calm to my mentality. . Hidden within those murky waters was the stench of death, stain of crimson streams joining the rivers of this battleground. I was going to take the upper hand by my own intervention, and force their hand in this conflict. “. . You must commit to war, older brother. . Else you will lose everything in a blink . . of an eye.” My fingertips folded themselves upon one another, surging forth the incantations of my chi. Variety of abilities, vastly unfolded like pages of a book with a torrent of forest swirled about my embodiment only momentarily. There! I could see the troops' lights within the distance, indeed the marching army was gaining ground upon my own encampment. . “Pointless. .” I managed to speak through the gusting winds, a calm before the storm had appeared with my lunar hues only illuminating with curiosity to the reaction of the De'lanish armies as many defeated in the same fashion . . With ease.

“Solar. . .”

I wandered aimlessly away from the Sands without mentioning a single word of my emotions that seemed to dwell within my chest. I couldn't quite understand why I was so sensitive at this moment for a strange reason, those sensations roaming about my mentality, and curling the contents of my stomach as if it pained my realize my own mind was succumbing to mortal emotion. What was happening to me? My eyes wandered momentarily to inspect the fountain ahead of me as it's structure was pristine as ever, I could feel my lips flatten before speaking out at the softened tone. Those piercing eyes of passing patrons of the bar watching me, worried of my mental state as it was truly a strange thing to say. “.. The craftsmanship of this fountain, it's of ultimate perfection... though I wonder how many failures are disregarded, and left for the dust in the wind.” Taking a slight step towards the left, as I began to head for the staircase, and ultimately the Aether Crystal not too far from the bar itself.

It seemed like the masonry of the streets were a definition of my previous statement, the payment of builders to construct the perfect item would only have my wonder for my own existence? I was built by the woman's blood, Aether, and the void's own adhesive to create my mortal state. My soul, on the other hand was to remain as it would have been, a corrupted state of my original self. A collection of steps found myself standing in front of the crystal as the passive raise of my hand, picturing the destination of my cavern within the mountains of Coerthas soon whisked me towards my destination through the process of manipulating the wavelengths of such a easy construct.

My appearance within my home couldn't have been more satisfying as was without eyes to bring about the prejudice of their minds. “...Shatter my bonds...” My tainted words accursed the air around me, as I felt my legs give out from underneath me as the knee pads constructing my leg guards slammed into the ice just before the pond of congealed, and materialized Umbral Aether. “...Why cannot I have my own will... in this life... I am not my own... I am still a pawn, no matter the ways that you spin it.” I felt my hands began to instinctively raise in front of my vision as my bare fingertips still bloodied from twisting stone of a railing consume themselves into a savagely twisting blackened ichor. “Immortality, at the cost of what, exactly?” I was no longer within control of my body, as I began to slide myself nonchalant into the pools of twisting Aether; and felt their consumption begin at my feet as it's crawling began to rise upon my legs.

[Summoner's Perspective: Kytauna Dusksong]

Lady Dusk  had ventured to the place of the legend. A place where so much horror and death had transpired that the very ground had been corrupted with the void. Lady Amandine was once a lady of elezan nobility that had given into the blood lust of a voidscent. Her craving turning her into a succubus. Something many had considered Kyt, as of late. Kyts research into the connection between aether and the soul had brought her to the point that she could at least practice. It was in these practices that she had caught glimpses of Zatou. She had learned that a great deal of aether was needed, also that she could not simply remove a soul without paying a heavy price.

It was to this extent she had captured an Ahriman  and placed it a cage that stood upon the manners grounds. The beast fluttered and screamed within the cage as its monstrous orb looked this way and that, claws desperately trying to reach for Kyt. Kyt smirked with a cruel smile. “Your pain will be paradise.. your suffering will bring hope. Please understand, this is an act of love.” She cood at the voidscent with a haunting melody. The pale duskwight began to circle the cafe, her metal claws that were embedded to her flesh, a memory of a being she once was, clang and clicked against the metal bars.

“Almost time.” She purred as she reached up and slit her own wrist. The blood oozed out and trickled down her forefinger as she walked about. Blood magic, runes of old , burned into the stone as each drop like liquid fire. She then produced an orb. A orb that was said to be taken from a primal. A gift from one of her prey. She set it on the ground within the runes and then step backward. Her hands rose as the clouds above rolled and whined as a storm formed in the peaceful sky. Lightening streaked and thunder crashed as the storm seemed to mirror her very heart beat

. “Maethia , morte xatthya. “ Her siren's song lifted from her parted lips. The sound mixed with the sound of a thousand souls. Her body swaying as if every moment was pure ecstasy. “Leviantian.. matasou.. verda…luminata .. delabilas morte..” She continued with a moaning sorrow and cruelty. Lighting struck the ground and like an anchor flowed through her and thusly to the blood that circled the cage. Kyt’s gaze lowered as a sneer crossed her lips. Her head tilting in predatory fashion as she stepped to the cage. “Stare into abyss…” She whispered as she reached through the cage and grabbed the voidscent by its iris. Blood and gore dripping down her hands as she pulled on its aether and with it summoned the connection from the very gown. Her once silver eyes blackened as visions raced through a world that plunged into darkness.

Her detail began to grow as she continued to gain ground upon my crippled figure, her entire embodiment was draped with a crimson fluttered dress to match the flowing strands of her hair. The unmatched amethyst hues beamed in my direction as her blackened nail jabbed it's aim in my direction. She continued to speak to me, though her lips didn’t seem to move. They were sealed tight, all in spite of her voice filling my ears. “Your final act upon your world was nothing more than undetermined heroics, you knew the risk of your demise.. and nevertheless faced them head on, allowing yourself to die for your friends.. Yes, on the terms that you are normal this would have most definitely allowed you within the pearly gates.” Her smile began to grow until I could clearly observe her sharpened canines, before the light click of her tongue to tsk me, scolding me entirely like a child with a shake of her poised finger. “...You are corrupted by heart, your bloodline has it's obvious doom lying within it's veins... Therefore, you will be assigned a role within your.. well, life which you're currently being called to service for... You will be a teacher..You will become one of us, and this is your only option...Unless your plan is to be congealed within the masses of helpless souls of mindless peasants.” Her fingertip began to place itself upon the tip of my nose, for an odd reason I was unable to respond in any conditions as I felt those chains beginning to pull the chair at the slow rate in which it's obsidian, yet; simplistic structure began to resist the very tug.

The amnesia has clogged a majority of my memories, yet; the subconscious of my mind still retains the small portion of my original conscious. The brain that possessed the Lord within me, and it's own final moments before meeting the inevitable maker of a crushing, and overwhelming darkness which seemed to consume the very fields that I was stationed within, those moments where I could see... The faces of my friends, my family as their terrified, and unborn features as the threatening presence of what appeared to be the strength of a God just outside a runic shield of my own creation. I can still recall those very determination-granted words fleeting my mouth in a final requiem of the oppression just outside of my domain of protection.

“Tell my sister, that I love her, and I'm so-”

Cruelty was dealt upon the runes as the memory was more so a fleeting pressure within my chest attempting to recall any further than that, unstoppable darkness crept over my gaze as those faces which I placed myself as vanguard for, vanished from my sight as the shadows seemed to disperse them among the cloud of drawing obsidian upon my eyes. My own death seemed so surreal as nothing more than euphoria washed over my body as it attempted to numb it's own demise, and I was completely aware of the loneliness which I was unable to control from my mind, it was abandonment that I was feeling. Why? This question roamed about in my mind, during the finalized transition for my soul to rest within the bones of the heroes. Awaiting my redemption of the brilliant light to take upon my soul before it was consumed by the endless void, only to be so sadly withdrawn as the light never came for me... I heard the voice of the thousand, endless screams which awaited me as I began to drown within their sorrow, misery, enveloping the depths of this Hell that I was being consumed by.

My bare body lacked the essential leathers which I was soon forgetting the details of, as they were off in the consumption of the darkness causing an immediate draft upon my body. I felt the decomposition of my fingertips beginning to accelerate, similar to pain of frostbite within the ends of my appendages. This horrific, and unavoidable pain of my own doom filled my soul, my body lacked the ability to fight back against the unseen force as shackles found themselves locking against my ankles, and wrists. Recoiling sounds of chain being pulled tightly as this was my judgement, this was my eternal punishment for the sins of my darkened reign. Alas, all of this torment that I awaited, I couldn't help but feel an approaching figure within the black surroundings, my eyes seemed to gain perception from the cloud of ashen resistance.