#housestygian

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 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. . .”

((@thanilan)) Knock, 

Knock, 

Knock. The rough wooden finish of the door made it uncomfortable to knock on. While waiting for a recipient I found myself peeking through a crack in the door, wondering if I had the right place, but I could see nothing. What a hassle. Just as I turned on the heel of my boot to leave, the door creaked open slowly, but nobody seemed to be holding it. I sighed deeply. Around the left corner, sword drawn I bet. He never changes does he? A grin forming along my mouth, I step quickly inside the door, right hand rising, and whipping around the left of the room to poitn at----- Nothing..?  Click. I raise my hands calmly, and slowly turn around. Flintlock, and to the right of the door. Well, this is new. “What sort of greeting is that for an old friend Galam?” The man snorted indignantly. “ ‘Friend’ “ he repeated, the word dripping with sarcasm.  He wore mail of blackened scales from his neck to his boots, the only things uncovered being his face and his biceps. A tattered, bloodstained tabard of blue clung desperately yo his chest, tied over both shoulders like a sort of double-toga. The sigil was my own, a large white canine paw print centered amongst a worn sea of blue cloth. “As fashionable as ever I see.” I would raise my brow questioningly. “Why do you still sport Frostclaw colors?” Galam looked at me plainly. “You may be a piece of shit, but the people who followed you are still family to me. They ain’t your colors anymore.” I nod slowly. “Fair enough I suppose. Don’t suppose I could speak to my nephew now?” The man jerked his head wordlessly towards a room adjacent to the entrance of the small home. Hi nodded and stepped past the doorway, crossed the short stretch of wooden floor, and slid into the room. It was a simple room, not much more than a bed and a dresser adorning it. Upon the bed lie a sleeping azure-haired man with notable elven features. Thanilan looked much different than last I saw him. He was so pale, his normally azure complexion nearly blended with the white sheets. There was hardly any meat on the boys bones. He had clearly been starved. However, neither of these were  first thing I noticed. The first thing I noticed, was his metallic right hand. From the middle of his right forearm down, was entirely comprised of brushed steel. It looked mechanical, but I don’t know engineering very well. I looked at Galam with a worried expression. “Don’t worry Grakkath he’ll be fine.” “No, it’s not that.” “Then..What?” “Well, its just....you couldn’t have given him something cooler, like, a shotgun hand or something?” “.....”