#gehryn

((Alright, so that is a SUPER old picture by now, but it gives an idea of what my Blood elf Demon Hunter kinda looks like. I’ll draw something better soon.))

Thump. Thump. Crack.

A light sprung to life as the sounds echoed through his prison chamber. A light he would never truly see again flared out from his eyes, bright fel green.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

A long, soft sigh escaped his lips, as he felt them pull up into a grin. He wasn’t sure he’d ever know freedom again. The sound of his cell, as it came crashing inward drew a laugh from somewhere deep within him. He felt a rush of warm air and breathed deep as he was set free. Sounds of battle echoed in the prison chambers outside.

“Oh no... this was the wrong cell.” a voice cursed in a low hiss.

“What do you mean?” A female voice asked this time.

“We never should have let this one go.” The first voice said.

“Why?”

“Scorned lovers always do say the most wicked things.” He said with a chuckle as he stood straight and wobbled toward the entrance of his cell, gripping the frame and angling his head toward the one who asked the question. His spectral sight finally returned to him, and he made out the fel, flickering silhouettes of his rescuers. The first, the angry one, was larger and broader than him, the other was slightly shorter, and only slightly more narrow than he was in the shoulders. 

The larger form growled and suddenly thrust an arm out toward him, grabbing him by the throat and hoisting him up so that they were face to face. 

“Never call what we had love, Gehryn.” the man snarled. Gehryn grinned, despite the pressure on his throat, and trailed a black-taloned finger up the man’s chest, neck and finally the contour of his jaw.

“Oh, how I’ll miss you...” Gehryn said with a strained chuckle. Suddenly pain flared in his side, twice, and he was dropped to the floor hard. He winced and his hands found the hilt of two long daggers. The larger form growled.

“I shouldn’t even give you those... fight your way out. We need the numbers. But once we’re free of this place, know I’ll kill you if I see you again.” The man said before he stormed away, hacking at demons as they drew near. The thinner form knelt down to examine Gehryn’s wounds.

“Are you alright?” She asked, watching him with concern on her face. Gehryn nodded, dragging the blades out of his side, letting out a long, breathy moan before slumping back against the opening of his cell.

“Oh yes, I’ll be juuuust fine.” He said with a grin on his inky-black lips. “His reaction was well-deserved, I assure you.” He chuckled. “Off you go. I’ll make my way out, shortly.” He said. The other form nodded, rose, drew her own weapons, and made her way toward the fray.

Gehryn stood slowly, his wounds slowly burning themselves shut with fel-fire. He looked over the daggers he was left with. He always preferred a nice quick dagger to those often times cumbersome glaives. He gave them each a twirl in his long, slender fingers, nodding. They would do for now. They’d get him to freedom again. There was lots to do, with the power he’d gained. Lots of people to see.