#shelyna

Amazingly lovely portrait done by this person! https://artistsnclients.com/slots/26774

Everyones been on a binge hitting this person up for their portraits at a very easily affordable cost lately in guild. And they’re so fast at it! This took maybe 6-7 hours! Really recommend them, or their higher tiers, they do good work.

Her consciousness drifted, aimless, empty. Entirely disconnected from anything physical, anything real. Shelynas thoughts occasionally flickering back to a recollection of what had occurred. Warnings given in the past, ingrained in her by many teachers. Her satyr, her husband, others still. The void gave, and the void took. She payed a price in energy every time she asked it to bring something physical into reality. A price only sufficient enough to borrow, never fully keep. As that would cost so much more, for a permanent gift from the twisted realm of darkened magic. 

The prior night, day, year? Time didn’t seem to pass wherever her awareness was. Not that she could tell, perhaps it flew even faster then normal. Recollection recalled her error, in a moment of haste and need she’d beckoned her magic into a humanoid form to act quickly. Shoving someone out of the way of...something, her thoughts were fuzzy. Only really remembering that whatever it was had consumed and destroyed her creation quicker then a heartbeat. Before the world was torn apart in a blaze of fel and void combining and rippling outwards.

She remembered feeling...broken, shattered, more pain then she’d felt in quite some time. And severely paling in comparison to the sensation of something tearing at her while she lay in a heap. Tendrils of void ripping past her flesh, into the veins of energy in her body, into her mind. Devouring energy, but the price was greater then merely energy. A humanoid form was much more potent, flexible, useful. She felt a yank, and her thoughts blacked out entirely.

Her body left behind, a cage fortunately unbreakable easily in the hopefully short time that the demons would be left bound to her soul, locked within the runes that covered nearly inch of flesh. The consciousness lapsed away with the shock of the drain, leaving her body merely a shell containing her soul and those tied to it.

Aimless, the thread of magic that was her sentience drifted through horror filled realms, barely aware of what transpired, or how long it lasted. Unaware even that her physical body was being tended to, she would not be able to be pulled back unless someone intervened, or her ‘time’ paying recompense ran out.

“You should be more careful with what you borrow.” A quaking presence chided the nonexistent insect of a being. Before her awareness fluttered away once more, and she continued to float along.

Within the depths of some odd shadowy realm beyond her knowledge, Shelys mind continued to be flung. Time long since lost its meaning in this place, even moreso then she’d thought it could’ve at the start. Somehow so far the endless, vast, empty void occasionally flourishing with cosmic horrors she couldn’t even comprehend hadn’t shattered her sanity yet. 

The warped perspective of time gave her plenty of chances to think upon what occurred, and so many other things. Shock having since weakened enough that she could be aware of the here and now, admittedly the before was oddly difficult to focus on. The many lessons from her teacher and Satyr both meditated upon, as much as Shely could in her present state. Serving out her time in recompense for ‘stealing’ from the void.

Meanwhile, the empty shell containing her soul and the two demons bound to it lay within her bad in the tower. Moved there by a friend, it had managed to mend after time passed. Natural regeneration combining with the efforts of the first night and leaving her mostly whole. Save for the lack of a sentience. 

Inside the satyr stirred, mentality testing, examining the state of her form. The runes kept him from breaking out, not that he’d want to. The nathrezim itself seemed to have tested and decided it was better to save its energy moments before. The shadowy, deeply cowled and robed mental image of a creature pondered the opportunity before it.

Given the opportunity, he began to reach, stretch. Starting with the sight, recalling his intimate examination of every magical thing she’d learned since he’d been bound to her soul. Even still the runes interfered massively, but like a nearly blind person squinting through glasses. His surroundings slowly became visible. 

Attempting to move was infinitely harder, like being weighed down by tonnes of water. His attempts at maneuvering her were useless for the first day or so. But he would not likely get another chance to examine through his own ‘eyes’ as it were.

Speaking was weird...everything was weird, it’d been several years since he’d been freely moveable. Though the nathrezim observed his experimentation, it merely continued to exude a constant malice. Having long since learned of his lack of loyalty to the legion.

Interactions were at best hostile, and those he managed to speak to seemed distrustful and doubtful. Forthright and honest, he found their reactions confusing. Though any demon possessing its host would be frowned upon, he supposed.

Expending most of his effort, he’d barely made it an hour before he felt the weight of the ocean growing oppressive. Dragging the empty shell back to her bed, he’d fallen into the covers with a weighty thud. Consciousness dipping back into the mental space she used to visualize her internal mind. 

As another day passed, he felt the thread of magic slowly beginning to pull backwards. Hopefully this meant she’d return soon, he’d thought to himself rather wistfully. 

@the-house-of-crows

Shelyna made her way through the tower, nimbly working past the various servants and a few of the flock who’d give brief nods of respect. Her smile somewhat strained by the series of events that had led her to this moment. Slipping quietly into her quarters within the Familys home.

The room could be described as lavish, and decently large. In fact it was quite more than enough space for herself. With a queen sized bed in the back center and a working desk on the far left. However inbetween was the main reason she even needed such a room sometimes. Strewn about the place were a dozen armor stands with leather formed over them. Each modeled after her own body size.

Here and there other things were visible. A rack across the wall with six or so longbows resting upon hooks. Strings just within reach to get any one to work. As well as a small assortment of daggers and swords upon a weapons rack just beneath. All in all there was artistry at work for any given need or task. 

Settling in for the night, she moved with some reverence to set aside her latest acquisition. A ritual dagger, distinctly silver that seemed to pull on the darkness around her. Absorbing power from its surroundings steadily. 

Earlier in the day, Ielin had come to her. Brought up mention of the twin to her own dagger, known as sister. The same she’d long ago witnessed Rodther giving to her within duskwood. There could be no better way in her mind to preserve the memory of her sacrificed companion than to raise this weapon for their shared cause.

However important this is, though, their task the next night was crucial to prepare for. A set of red leathers, near indistinguishable from countless others that many sneaks have worn before was calling her. Near completion upon its stand, it lacked the great glorious flourishes of patterns stitched into it. Left as blank and anonymous as one could make such things.

A part of her wanted to deal with the emotions of it all, of the loss, but the connection remained. To feel too much pain would be to dishonor her gift. It would be far better to act decisively. 

Her own features blurred, decidedly pleasant but mundane facial structure shifted to become a bit more striking. An illusion steadily blurring out the person who’d stood in her place until they settled. Binding down and dispersing the appearance of long wings, a tail curling around her waist. Tiny horns. Bit by bit they faded.

With a stretch she tested out her body movements, observing herself with the sight. Blindfold neatly replaced with two glowing elven eyes. Though the light they put off was a vibrant crimson. Leading down to fairly full lips and otherwise quite nice bone structure. 

“...Hm, It’ll do.” she commented rather absently, picking up a bandana from the stand and beginning to don the armor for the day. Bit by bit her form was obscured by the snug red leathers before she worked some chemicals into her hair. Draining away the green dye and leaving it a pure white. 

When all was said and done, she secured Sister on her hip and grasped a utility knife to place on the other. “A knife that absorbs my own shadows may be a hassle but as long as I don’t use it much...maybe, if only...” she’d trailed off quietly the satyr perking up at the idea within her head.

‘If he can make one for one kind of magic, why not another? Even with such a passive effect, just imagine what it’d be like to finally walk into the cathedral without such burning. The little stabs of light being weakened or absorbed...It should be done. We shall need a name for it when it’s complete, something personal. That way you and your Sister can always be working together.’

With that a slow, briefly wicked smile strained under the bandana. “Not a bad idea at all...It’s been too long since I’ve visited my old friend anyway.”

The fight yesterday could’ve gone...much better in hindsight. The elf recalling the series of events while making their way to a safe zone on Argus. Most of her wounds were closed up, though a few fresh scars and gashes remained. While for the moment stumps were where wings had been. 

Fortunately, this place exists. In a sense at least, given the massive amount of fel that suffused this planet. Pausing besides a pool of liquid magic that rippled angrily, she’d settled down. Meditating quietly to herself as the runes over her body began to activate. Going from a dull green to a steadily more vibrant sheen, the fel from the pool began to flow into her form.

A strangled cry of pain punctuated the environment as she tensed up. Form twitching quietly as the energy hit her back. Channeling the fel outwards as the two nubs seemed to begin extending. Glowing a brighter green, her screaming began as she felt nerves begin to grow back.

Destroyed and reformed several times a minute, the fel began to slowly take the shape of extended wings. Fire perpetually cleansing the surface of flesh to bone before rebuilding it more steadily. Her body locked up from the pain of rushing the process, but it was necessary.

At some point in the act, she must’ve blacked out briefly. Seeming to forget where she was, focus drifting around the area. Wings stretched out slowly, sensitive to the air still. Back to their leathery original condition, lacking the scars that had developed over the last year or so since she’d grown them the first time.

Clutching the the side of her head, shely began to draw herself up. Accidentally scratching the side of her face and drawing her thoughts to the moment. “...What...?” she’d whispered quietly.

The elven claws on both her fingers had elongated a bit more. Becoming sharper and sturdier, and shifting to a black color. “Another mutation...lovely.” mumbled to herself while briefly worrying her lower lip. A more pronounced set of canines digging into it and drawing a little blood. With a startled cry of frustration her body fell back into a seat on the ground.

“Been doing so well for so long, and now two mistakes at once. Damn it all, I bet this is permanent as well. Fucking mutations...” slumping forwards tiredly, the effort of regrowing herself taking most of her bodies energy. Mulhek chimed in rather lightly on her thoughts. ‘Let’s...not repeat yesterday again, yes? Another second and you actually blacking out entirely and our little guest would’ve had just the chance he’s needed for a long time.’

Vague memories floated back to her mind, the searing pain of her wings being pulled from her back. Then Crimson reaching out for her before her vision had gone dark. The next thing she remembered they were in the pits. ‘I know we have a bit more of a friendly arrangement at this point, but, if you become weak enough that I can take over for a minute...Then he would’ve torn both of us to shreds given a few more seconds. So...careful, hm?’ mildly worried sarcasm veiled his voice within her head.

‘...Right, okay, orders are orders. But I’ll try not to take on someone like that alone again. Also, no more wasting energy on fire. We’ll be ready next time, if there is a next time.’ pulling herself up with a tired sigh. She began to drag herself back towards the camp. Feeling like a horse had kicked her a dozen times in the head. ‘At least it wasn’t hooves.’ she lamented internally, feeling herself accidentally scratch her palm with the demonic claws.

Some describe it as hot, others choose to view it as cold. In shelys opinion it was more often the same as everything else. Life itself was a sufficient enough facsimile for hell at times. Especially when working overly hard, a thing she didn’t like to do since she’d finished her training.

Ever since winding up at the fel hammer she’d been run through all descriptions of agony. Sleep? Breaks? They knew not what these words meant, cared in no way for their greater purpose. Save to allow for enough of a break to meditate and somewhat restore sanity.

It was no wonder so many fled to stormwind when given the chance to unwind. Sure, Iaron had told her of what it was like, but words rarely compare to reality. There was at least some hope that she might see her mate, or Derekil. Though they seemed to be elsewhere. The only ones who remained at fel hammer were either trainees or trainers. Everyone else was quite busy elsewhere.

‘My demons are magical, my experience is magical...I know I can be strong but...fuck.’ she thought internally, slumping after nearly hours of constant exercise to test her limits. Runes burned brightly, her full body tattoos hissing at the air menacingly. The attire she’d arrived in had been forcibly discarded and replaced with the basic training robes. Better to denote her newer status.

The satyr of course enjoyed this immensely. The air was thick with fel, it was a dimension more suited to his kind. Perhaps the same for the nathrezim, though he rarely bothered to be vocal. ‘It’s a wondrous place, isn’t it? You can use your energy as casually as you want and it’s almost instantly refilled on a whim. Odd that you’d struggle with the freedom to use magic as you wish, when you spend so much time refusing to use anything.’

About then one of the random meandering instructors made their way over, she could feel his eyes on her. The same as every other demon hunter here. No one was ever not being watched. The sight weighed like a blanket upon her existence.

“Well it seems like you aren’t physically inept or useless, although your energy seem more than restored. Why do you not use the runes, strengthen yourself. This is the most basic and passive of our skills, it takes little to power and each must learn to use it at all times. Otherwise an unexpected attack destroys us.” his down disapproving as he spoke. Though the scales and other malformations on his body were enough of an answer in her mind.

“For the sake of my...visits to family and the city. Using too much fel will cause the mutations to come on faster. It’s already enough effort to hide the wings, horns, and tail.” she already knew it wasn’t a sufficient answer for their logic. Why did one care if they appeared monstrous?

He simply frowned, deeply. “You will learn to do so, or you will suffer. It is as simple as that. Next we move on to magic, to judge where your strengths lie there. Provided you don’t prove in need of an entire retraining, we will see where it goes from there.” drifting off towards a separate area of the ship. She couldn’t help but groan in exhaustion as she followed. ‘At least with this, I shouldn’t be dying as much.’ focusing enough to keep the runes burning a bit brighter. Fel steadily flowing over her form to strengthen it. It was clear he’d expected her to start now.

After several days and slow progress, shely was almost comfortable with her situation. Save perhaps that every precious free moment she’d spend in the city was like swimming through syrup. Exhaustion at the end of her duty was expected, and she didn’t think it likely to be avoidable.

At least for once she managed to wake up on time, before getting bodily flung from her bed against the wall. It sounded worse than it was, after all the constant use of fel lately her body was physically a bit more durable. Not significantly but enough that a light toss wouldn’t prevent her duty. Though if with injuries she found she healed a bit quicker. If nothing else there was good reason for their insistence on this practice.

They weren’t impressed at her waking up, of course. It was expected, as was everything else. She would need to perform something astounding to actually earn notice. Not that she wanted that anyway, better to fade a bit. 

Following after the wakening, of course came the training. Physical exercise was not alien to her by any means, but with magic she’d grown a bit more lax. Within a few short days what little atrophy may have begun was burned away entirely. Along with any loss of tone that she’d had. 

The fel held its downsides, however, obviously. Even though it was overall a positive improvement to her being at this point. She was now quite sure that along with the durability her skin was becoming somewhat less soft. A minor concern, though she was sure Iaron wouldn’t mind.

Shortly after the end of her exercises, as her muscles mildly screamed, she was ushered off towards the magical practice once more. Her sight had improved fairly well, and now remained active at all times. Her beam of fel was still lacking greatly, along with the other traditional magical abilities they required. But progress was a slow and steady thing.

Overall things were working out...better than could be expected. Not feeling like passing out before her small squad would be tossed out on patrol was an improvement as well. Generally helps to avoid the dying thing.

Once in her proper attire, she followed the rest of them along. Warglaives in hand, ready to keep an eye out as they could in the safer areas just in case of resurgences.

Then, after, home to visit her family and get a bit of comfort with her mate, if possible. That sounded pleasant.

Rodther had fulfilled his part of their bargain, for which she’d provided blood, bone, and fel in excess to forge. The scattered ideas of what she’d wanted obtained from random bits of knowledge her nathrezim possessed. Though he’d become more iron and resolute once he was aware of what she’d learned so far.

“The type of thing you kill with it will effect how it reacts to it.” he’d said to her, well, the first thing she killed with it. Describing them as alive, was perhaps expected given the ideas came from that monstrous mind. As such she’d taken them safely to the fel hammer to stash with her bunk. 

Something exclusively for hunting demons, something she couldn’t and wouldn’t bring near anyone they may harm. The fel within was enough to corrupt someone if she wasn’t careful. Not that it took terribly much to do that.

They were kept safely against her back once their squad made its way out for patrol after the grueling agony of exercise and magical practice. Fortunately they stumbled upon a small group of eredar, there were many who had entered through broken shore to help with the assault so far.

What followed was somewhat chaotic, the flow of battle often was. Though the sight made it so that even amongst the magical flare of combat each was able to see clearly. The flow of movement and power as each displayed their own strength designed to counter the legion itself. Stealing the mana from the casters as they gathered it to cast their spells.

Fortunately she managed to get behind one quick enough to bury the daggers into her back. The daggers hissed menacingly as her life faded, seeming to gain the menacing glow of her blood that spilled across the ground.

Over the rest of the battle it seemed a viable replacement for her simplistic variation she’d crafted, if not more dangerous. When she took injuries they usually healed quick with the fel combined with what little blood magic she was capable of. Though with the daggers themselves it felt like the life draining aura was more potent, tearing life and fel with greater ease from the demons than ever before. 

These...definitely never could leave the fel hammer. But they’d certainly keep her from dying when out in the field against these monstrosities, for now. The remainder of the patrol went smoothly enough, even if she was exhausted by the end.