#dwc2021

DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2021 IS HERE!

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I was going to write a story about this topic, the words redemption and hollow only struck a few things to me. I’ve tried to think about it this entire writing challenge but the pain of what story I wanted to write, what I needed to write still cannot be put into words.

Instead of forcing out a story just to not face this head-on but not suffer in an attempt to write for a character I had to retire due to these events. I am going to give you a synopsis and that will be my writing for today.

Greer was a very loved person and character and when her player passed away a year ago, there was a very hard question about how we were going to explain the sudden disappearance of her character in the story. We all thought long and hard, mulled over it together for days until we came to a general conclusion that was widely accepted within her group of friends.

The story was thus. Hydaelyn called to Greer, as a Warrior of Light, and needed her to go to another world and another time to help others there. Though she was reluctant at first, not wanting to leave her friends, family and fiance behind, they all came to support her on the day she stepped through the Mother Crystal’s light to be teleported where the world needed her most. Her Light shone bright enough over everyone that arrived to watch and they stood there, saying their goodbyes.

Now, year after year, many of those that were there the day they watched their loved one be summoned off to help where the Crystal’s Light needed her, still gather in memorial. Not out of sadness, but unity. To remember the Light she gifted upon all of them. For a time, everyone comes to sit quietly before the bonfires, to gather their thoughts and rest.

That is what today’s story was meant to be, but it is something I will never be able to write and give it the justice it deserves. Still, I feel everyone should know it. That way at the end of the day, we never truly go Hollow.

So if you're struggling to write something or suffering a problem. Sometimes it's good to sit just down where you need to and rest. If you're missing someone, reach out to them and if you can't, honour them with thoughts of the memories you shared. Take care of yourselves, be gentle with your own soul. Save your game and rest.

A moment was taken to check her gear, for the third time. Tinnaire glanced over her shoulder and took a deep breath before climbing onto the anima wyrm. She was stalling. Anyone could see that. Transit through the In-Between was always disconcerting and she was hardly the only one. At least the thrill of foreign magic would be almost enough to keep her mind off the fact that she was hurtling between isolated lands of the afterlife. Almost. What would happen if she fell? The physics of the afterlife were complicated. Her mind wasn’t yet meant to understand them--but anyone who knew her knew it would try: attempting to wrap sanity like gift wrap over situations the elven woman’s mind had never been meant to see at this stage. Fel-green eyes closed and her knuckles blanched as the creature lurched and shot through the anima gate. The flights didn’t take long--or maybe they did, who could tell here?--and Tinnaire seemed to shuck the sense of foreboding as she shook out her cloak. Stepping onto a parapet and getting her bearings, the elven woman looked up to the sky as more anima wyrms arrived in a steady stream, one right on the tail of the one she’d ridden. She was shuffled grumpily along by a stoneborn. Revendreth. Dreadlords might have history here, but she’d personally seen so little demon driven activity in the Shadowlands that she was lulled. Here, Tinnaire was sure she didn’t have to worry about demons. Not in the afterlife. They were tucked safely in the mortal realm and the Twisting Nether. A human man approached her and Tinnaire greeted him warmly. Composure evident and willed into being after the uneasy journey. The pair were on a mission after their brief greeting at reunion. They walked briskly toward a building, heads close to speak in low voices. Still. … Tinnaire looked over her shoulder, yet again, and Nimneth was thankful that Shadows still worked in the Shadowlands. The sayaad had veiled herself the moment she’d stepped off her own anima wyrm. But she could not stop herself from watching the woman. Soon, their own reunion would be sweet and satisfying, and filled with elven shrieks. She shivered. Soon, the demon promised herself, another kind of reunion would happen between herself and the witch. @daily-writing-challenge

Pollux could create a complicated prosthesis or ocular implant from scratch. He was one of the top sharpshooters within the military, and perhaps in all of Azeroth. He was a Medal of Honor recipient, a Doctor, and a Champion: A true hero, Pollux was an accomplished man. 

However, when it came to romance? Absolute hot garbage.

He never had any good role models when it came to romance while growing up, and by the time he reached adulthood his idea of it was not leaving directly after a random hook-up, or inviting them to take a shower with him before kicking them out. His short-lived ‘relationship’ with Aerden’s mother, Casienna, had been a bit lopsided considering all of it took place during his recovery, and romance had been the last thing on his mind for much of it. After her death? He stopped trying altogether. The explosion had done a number on his body, both physically and mentally, and it became easier to avoid any type of relationship so he wouldn’t have to deal with or explain his ‘performance issues’.

Then Khaeris came into his life. What started as a close friendship blossomed into so much more, and for the first time in a long time, he actually wanted so much more. Now, years later, they were still at it and going...’strong’ didn’t seem like the right word to use here. The military needed him often, which meant long absences and little communication. It put a strain on their relationship, and he could feel it every time he returned from a lengthy deployment.

He had been home less than a week at this point, and yet again the two were trying to remember what it was like to actually spend larger amounts of time together. He had his daily debriefings which would eventually dwindle, and she seemed a little more distracted than usual. The two of them needed something, some way of reconnecting better that didn’t just involve them lounging on his couch. She had probably done enough of that while he had been away, and while he didn’t know first hand what it was like to have a significant other be swept away by war and constantly worried for them, he knew it wasn’t easy, and he knew that she was often lonely.

They were well overdue for a proper date night, and he had recently seen a flyer for a festival out in Pandaria that would be the perfect opportunity. A room at the Halfhill inn had already been secured, bags had been packed, and he had even cleaned himself up and fixed up his hair so it wasn’t just a messy mop atop his head. He looked damn good. Now, he would wait until she walked through his door after closing up her booth and whisk her away on a surprise vacation. He wasn’t perfect at this romance thing, but it was a work in progress.

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 4 - Accomplish

Read Part 1 ---> Here Part 2 

~I’m GoInG tO cReAtE a DiStRaCtIoN~

So stupid. 

So maybe he wasn’t going to get the others killed today, but he was definitely going to get himself killed. There was one very large, very angry, and very fiery behemoth waiting for them outside of this cave, and Aerden had no doubt in his mind that soon something smaller would be along that could fit into that narrow passage to finish them off.

If there was one thing that he knew about behemoths, is that they were not terribly bright and a distraction would probably work, at least long enough for the others to escape. That, and they were quite clunky, unable to move at high speeds aside from what their size allowed. He would have to rely on his speed and agility. As long as he could put distance between the large monster and himself, he could dodge those molten infernos, lead it away, lose it among the rocky cliffs, and then circle back to rejoin his group.

The other soldiers were prepping for a swift departure, two having to be carried and another needing support to be able to walk. The priestess was in the best shape among the lot, and they decided she would be on point. “We’re ready.” The young woman placed a hand on Aerden’s shoulder, blessing him with a magical shield. It wasn’t much, but it could be the difference between life and death. “Please be safe.”

“Just wait until the entrance is clear and go.” Aerden forced a smile to try to bring her some sort of comfort and assure her that he knew what he was doing. He didn’t. His hands were shaking, his heart was trying to beat out of his chest, and he couldn’t ever remember a time when his mouth had been so dry; but it was now or never.

He took his moment when the behemoth briefly glanced away, sprinting straight towards the hulking beast and leaping into a roll to slip between its legs. He was quick enough that it didn’t seem to notice: Not bright as predicted. This would give him ample time to create some distance between them before luring ---- 

*WHUMP*

Aerden hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than the behemoth, and at the end of his sliding roll he smacked right into something that obviously wasn’t ready for it either. A rookie mistake, Cazmilan would be so disappointed that he hadn’t been paying better attention to his surroundings. The Maw necromancer toppled over from the velocity and surprise of the impact, giving Aerden just enough time to make a quick survey of his surroundings: Charred behemoth still oblivious, necromancer down but would be up soon, Maw guard a few paces away that was just about to….

*SHUNK*

Aerden scrambled backwards and spread his legs just as the guard’s axe split the ground between them; it didn’t happen just in his comic books! The look he must have had on his face… He could laugh about that later when he was hopefully not dead. It was at that moment that everything seemed to slow down, and he could almost predict what was going to happen next. Caz mentioned this phenomena while the two trained together and Aerden had definitely experienced this before in times of panic: Tachypsychia, The Matrix Effect. Of course time didn’t actually slow down, it was just a trick of the brain, an illusion: A much needed one in this case.

Freeing one of his swords from its scabbard, he swept his leg towards the guard’s ankles, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. Aerden immediately lodged his sword down into the helmet slits, through whatever was inside, and out the back into the ground beneath. That was the problem with enemies from The Maw, some of them had corporeal forms within their armor and others were, literally, just angry sets of armor. The guard seemed out of commission, for now.

At least the necromancer had a physical body: A shriveled, disfigured one, but it would do. Something vaguely humanoid could possibly have humanoid-type anatomy; he had seen it in creatures all over, and even here in The Maw already. What happened to them after they died, since they were technically already dead, was beyond him. Only a split second had passed since he effectively pinned the guard to when he jabbed the side of his hand hard against where neck meets shoulder of the now-standing necromancer. Brachial stuns worked wonders on the living, and apparently also on this particular type of dead. The necromancer crumpled to the ground and Aerden’s attention immediately went to the behemoth.

All of that ruckus must have finally drawn its attention, because it was now reeling back, readying itself to lay down another fiery inferno. Yet again, Aerden jumped and rolled out of the way, shielding his face from the molten blast that completely ravaged the two Mawsworn he had just fallen. How poetic. He leapt to his feet and began sprinting the opposite way he had directed the remaining soldiers to go, and the behemoth easily took the bait.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw the others slipping out of the cave and moving swiftly, and freely, towards safety. Mission accomplished.

...To be continued...

Enter the ruins of Azeroth: The Ashlands.

In the years following the Legions defeat, the heroes of Azeroth had forgotten about the immortal demons that still clawed at the edge of reality. Too focused on a war being fought in the realms of death, no heroes remained to stop when the forces of Tormaaz the Gargantuan broke through the barrier between realms and washed across the continents. Just like hundreds of worlds before, Tormaaz had reduced Azeroth to a pit of salt and sand.

Many of the planets people were sacrificed and slaughtered to fuel his war machines. Those that weren’t were made into slaves. But one stood out from the crowd. One that Tormaaz could not ignore.

“You there! Elf!” his bellowing voice boomed out. His great sasumata pointing in her direction, “Come to me!”

The woman, a sin’dorei with snow white hair looked up at the great demon lord. But she did not cower. She wore the face of pride and confidence in the wake of his gruesome glory. Despite being left with nothing but scraps of linen to clothe the people, this elf had managed to create beauty out of poverty like no other. She was the queen of rags.

“What do you want, vile demon?” she spat, wholly argumentative until the very end.

“What do I want?! I, the great Tormaaz, demands you become my Empress!” he roared.

“Only a woman with such a defiant stare could ever be the wife of Tormaaz the Gargantuan!”

The woman was shocked. A demon? In love with an Elf? Could such romance be true?

“What is your name, woman?” Tormaaz asked as he lumbered forward, a great reptilian hand reaching down to scoop her up.

“The people call me Sana. You can call me that as well, Great Tormaaz,” she replied. Despite his disgusting image, she could sense the heart of a poet beating beneath his scaled breast.

Tormaaz pulled her up towards his face. The glow of orange hellfire reflecting off her pale skin as she was sat on his tusk. Crossing her legs at the knee, she looked down at the slaves of Azeroth. Her life would forever be changed.

The legions of Tormaaz mached forth. Fel flowers and bells chiming. Bilescourge chirping on the winds. Sayaad Torturers' forced slaves to scream in a cacophony that eerily sounded like the Bridal Chorus if one tried really hard to hear it.

Down an isle of lava and black stone, Sana walked with her chin held high in a dress of black and red. adorned with the skulls of the dead and glowing with the souls of the damned weaved into it’s very fabric. Sana herself had designed the dress, with the hands of a dozen shivarra to tailor it to perfection. Running behind her, the flower imp tossed felweed pedals in her wake.

Under a massive stone arch, Tormaaz watched her approach as a reverend Inquisitor demon waited. A single tear of lava rolled down the great Pitlords cheek. Sana looked up at him upon her arrival and smiled.

“Do you, Tormaaz the gargantuan, take Sana to be your unholy empress for all eternity?” asked the felfire priest.

“I do.” he answered.

“And do you, Sana, take Tormaaz the gargantuan to be your glorious emperor?”

“I do,” she answered.

“Then by the power vested in my by the dark titan himself. I now pronounce you Pitlord and Pitlady. You may kiss the bride.”

A great hulking hand reached down to pick up his new bride, pressing his sulfur stinking lips against her whole face.

smoooch

The who looked out over their demonic and slave attendants and smiled.

“HAIL EMPRESS SANA! SANA IS GOOD! SANA IS GREAT! ALL MOAN THE GREAT, GOOD, SANA!!” Tormaaz bellowed out.

The demons cheered, and the people lamented.

Thus the two returned to his throne room... to consummate the marriage properly.

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 1 - Afterlife

The Construct’s designer wingtip boots clacked against the hard stone of Oribos’s Ring of Transference as he paced in circles. By this point in his journey, he had explored the available Afterlives, including The Maw, and while they all were fascinating in their own ways, he found himself...restless? Was that what this feeling was? Wanting more, but not being able to attain it? It was a feeling he experienced often, as if the world could not keep up with his curiosity. Now, not even the Shadowlands could.

Like a wild beast trapped in a cage.

The Brokers were of little help in answering his questions regarding other realms. Their knowledge came with a price, and The Construct was not adept at unintentionally swaying energy beings...yet. As with everything, it was a constant work in progress and harming or destroying them wouldn’t secure him their extensive knowledge, but instead probably gain him many enemies. That was not the objective of this particular expedition. 

The Brokers were able to move freely among the Afterlives, and previous conversations led him to believe that they were able to roam much more than what Azeroth’s occupants were allowed. But The Construct was unlike Azeroth’s typical occupants, wasn’t he? He didn’t need to follow the same rules, nor the same laws of the natural world; that much he had learned in his previous bouts of restlessness. Why couldn’t he navigate through the In-Between to explore new realms just as they did? He only had to believe he could do it, that seemed to be how things worked for him thus far.

He had been told of infinite Afterlives, a concept he couldn’t even fathom at the time; but the more he speculated, the more it made sense. This was not a place just for the inhabitants of his current timeline on Azeroth, this was meant for those from all corners of the universe within the infinite planes of existence. Life and death was so beautifully, but terribly vast.

He held onto those thoughts as icy eyes fluttered shut, pondering what the other realms may look like, what types of creatures, beings, and souls they may hold. Wondering if they too were in peril, and why they were not a part of this collective effort to stop something that must be affecting them as well. He thought of sandy beaches and deserts, cascading mountains and choppy seas, and never-ending fields of…

Eyes flew open as a sudden breeze kissed his cheeks, “...wildflowers.” His dulcet whisper was carried off into the wind as he turned in place, arms outstretched to graze his palms overtop of the brightly-colored, foreign flowers that spread out in every direction as far as the eye could see. Delicate footsteps carried him through the unfamiliar flora as his gaze drifted towards the sky, or what he assumed to be a sky. White wisps swirled around in irregular patterns set against the luminous light of whatever was up there. The longer The Construct observed, the more the frame of a massive flower became prevalent, constantly shifting its structure as if it were a living being. 

He was fully enraptured by the celestial phenomena, but a sudden jolt within his mind brought him back to where he previously had been wandering in Oribos. A nearby Broker watched him, clearly hesitant about approaching before eventually deciding to swiftly rejoin their Cartel. The Construct smiled to himself, and in tandem to his Master Gaebral, knowing fully well that he was the one to have retrieved his creation before any harm could befall him. 

Even the prettiest of flowers could carry the deadliest of poisons.

Had he done it? Had he just experienced another Afterlife? That was the assumption; whether or not he could duplicate the experience was another story. For now, his curiosity was sated and he had questions, or at least some information to trade.

When she was a child, moons would wax and wane over and over with people telling her “He will always be with you here.” or “He watches over you now.” And she wanted to believe. So much so that she never questioned what happened when one died. As in life, if you protected so to would you when your spirit left your body for the last time.

She believed her father’s connection to the Emerald Dream lent him strength in his wisp form. That when she was in trouble and she saw a wisp it was her father there at her side. As the years passed, this faith, this belief never wavered. 

But now she stood at her mother’s home, the note crumpled in her hand. Was it possible? Could she journey to these Shadowlands? A reunion in the afterlife between her parents?

Her eyes scanned her surroundings. The rooms she had rented for her mother looked the same. Nothing was out of place, it was if her mother had gone out shopping, not through the portal to the land of the dead. Her mother had left without even a goodbye to Risri other than this scrap of paper.

A frown marred the elf’s features and she loosened her grip upon the note looking down at the crinkled paper in her palm. Her mother was the one that had encouraged the belief of her father’s wisp watching over the two of them. But something had convinced Alistra to go. And go in a hurry. 

A sigh escaped her lips, Risri knew. If faced with the same choice when it came to Dragaur, she would do the same as her mother. Drop everything, without warning, and chase a hope to see him one more time.  Love made you do crazy and even silly things. And even all these years later, Risri knew her mother still loved her father.

The note was straightened and tucked into her bag. A last look around the apartment, Risri locked the door and made her way through the city headed back to her studio. A wisp hovered just out of sight following behind the photographer.

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Daily Writing Challenge 2021  Day 1 - Reunion / Afterlife