xerathien-blog

[xerathien-blog]

Please reblog this if you RP an Illidari character.

I want to get connected to various DHs among the RP community.

[xerathien-blog]

"I didn't know you were willing to do this."

Xerathien’s metal boots rang throughout the small, mostly silent, demonic room as he paced back and forth. He still held his war glaives tightly, one in each hand, fresh blood still dripping off the length of the felsteel as the demon hunter waited for another rush of demons but, he knew they weren’t coming. Xerathien was forced to stop as that boot got caught on something heavy, and as he let his gaze fall towards the floor he’d slowly come to recognize one of the prisoners the Stormshield had encountered during their assault.

Their mission, his mission, had been to disable one of the newly arrived legion command ships and after fighting through enemy ground forces for hours the Company had finally reached the gateway to the massive flying stronghold. But, as they started to charge through that portal a terrible cry howled throughout the camp, and an onslaught of newly summoned demons charged towards their position. Erdras Windstalker, a fellow demon hunter Xerathien had asked to accompany the Stormshield on this assignment, offered to lead the contingent through the ship while Xera defended the portal, and he agreed. Relentlessly, demons poured into the room but the small doorway only allowed for one large, or two smaller demons to enter at a time. This choke point provided the Night Elf the means he needed to not only survive but thrive, and as the monsters fell their souls were consumed as power sources by the gateway, and even the prisoners seemed to beam with hope as their freedom drew ever closer.

But then, the demons stopped coming.

Xerathien waited and waited, but the only cries of battle seemed to ring from the ship itself. Anxiety gnawed in the pit of his stomach, and he hoped that at any moment his companions would emerge from that glowing green passage, but they didn’t. As more time passed, his gaze locked on to the portal and suddenly, but unsurprisingly, the way to and from the ship started to falter. A quick flash, just a hint of destabilization, was all it took for the demon hunter to proceed over to one of the captured beings, and freed him. The others cheered, relieved that their torment was over, and they watched their fellow prisoner step out from his bindings. This one was a male Draenei, big and strong. Xerathien assumed he must have been some sort of warrior, the Light reeking off his form made him think as such.

“What about the others?” The Draenei spoke, his thick accent filling the room as the Kal’dorei led him before the portal. The next sound was not of Xerathien’s two-toned voice, but rather that of metal searing through flesh. A large glaive protruded through the already weakened Draenei, and he fell to his knees before the gateway. Without hesitation, the demonic creation reached out for his soul and pulled it into its machinery. As the process took place, Xera ignored the screams and cries of the others as he watched the swirling green entryway strengthen in power. His gaze never left that portal, watching and waiting in the hope that the next second would be the one where his comrades returned.

“I didn’t know you were willing to do this.”

Gwenivyr’s horrified words echoed throughout the chamber as the sounds of explosions roared off in the distance. Xerathien simply stood in the doorway, watching the command ship come crashing into the earth as the Company had finally returned. As Diandrind, a druid who insisted on keeping an eye on Xerathien passed through the gateway, she’d nearly trip over one of the many corpses strewn across the floor. Looking around, she’d be able to see that the cages that lined the walls of the room were all emptied, their former occupants soaked in their own blood as they lay face down on the floor. What happened here had not been a fight, but a slaughter, and she knew the executioner.

“Their lives were not worth all of yours, and their sacrifice meant the end of that stronghold.” Slowly, Xerathien’s head turned to face the group, as though he were a man on trial. They all seemed… concerned, to say the least, by his actions, but the Night Elf didn’t care. For too long, he had let his friends get hurt because of his unwillingness to act. For too long, he tried to suppress his instincts in favor of allowing those around him to act without the necessary knowledge or power. “I have followed your ways, abide by your laws since I arrived and look where it has gotten us!” The Night Elf snarled a bit, angry that they didn’t seem to immediately share in his logic. All, of course, except for Erdras, who had moved outside of the room to prepare for a counter attack.

“No longer. Now we do what we must in order to save all worlds.”

(( @gwenivyr , @impdh ))

[xerathien-blog]

Honestly, don't be afraid to just show up in my inbox at random

I may not be the kind of RPer that does all my drafts everyday, but I do often check my inbox/messages.

So if your muse misses mine, don’t be afraid to show up with a random text message or mini-para or sentence or question or whatever. I promise I won’t get mad at you.

This also goes for anyone who wants to interact with my muse. Just throw something random in my inbox. Even if I don’t answer it for some reason, I’ll probably message you back.

[xerathien-blog]

"How does it feel to be helpless all over again?"

The words ran through his head again and again that night. Helplessagain. Upon returning home from the bar, Xerathien couldn’t bringhimself to head to bed as Gwenivyr had done. Instead, he just paced around thelower floor of her house, wandering from the kitchen to the main room, and backagain. I’ve never protected anyone.That realization had come out of nowhere, but that did not make it any lesstrue. Xerathien stopped before a window in the kitchen, and leaned towards it.He could see the glowing outlines of birds in the trees, and rodents runningthrough the grass looking for a late-night meal. He hopped to find something outsideto distract him, but the calm dark of that night revealed nothing of the sort.

As he moved to the main room, the Kal’dorei quietly pulledout a chair and sat down in it, sitting before the now dying flames within the fireplace. How many people have I let die? Therewere those in his village, of course. His friends, his family, all he had everknown but that surely couldn’t count, could it? He was just an average NightElf back then, untrained in magic or steel. All his knife was good for wasskinning hides, and that certainly wasn’t going to stop the demons that pouredin to their world.

What about Gwen? Thatwas harder to justify. She had been attacked relentlessly by the Smiley Killer,but Xerathien didn’t view it as a serious threat. It was just some... disillusioned human driven mad by the sheer might of the Legion, after all! Butin his ignorance Xerathien encouraged the poor girl to chase after him. A frownpulled at the corners of his lips. He should have known better, should havepaid more attention to her concern. But at least, she was alive.

Valearia. Thatname stung as it passed through his mind, and the demon hunter didn’t attempt to justify what he did. Not even under the guise of his decision, hersacrifice, being for the greater good could make his actions seem right. He hadleft her to die, too afraid to act lest he’d lose his own life. In that tunnel,he was just a leather worker again, one that didn’t deserve the honor ofserving the Master.

How does it feel to be helpless all over again?

That was the sinister joke: He had always helpless, alwaysrelying on others taking care of him to survive. As the last of the flames dieddown, Xerathien lifted the chair back across the room and put it next to thetable where it belonged. As he set it down, both his palms pressed in to thewood and small tinges of fel flame began to spark from those corrupted digits.

“No longer.”

[xerathien-blog]

"They say that if you wish upon a star it'll come true. What would you wish for?"

Xerathien let that sightless gaze fall to the floor as heleaned forward, those large forearms resting on his thighs to keep his upperbody supported. “You’d think it would be for an end to the Legion, but no. Wehave given everything to see that realized. It will happen.” His blindfold drifted back upward, and a deep exhalerushed past those corrupted lips. “I would wish for a life after the Legion’s fall. To be able to just exist in the world,unburdened by everything I’ve seen. Perhaps, I could go back to crafting. Finda nice hovel in Feralas, live out the rest of my days knowing that the demonswon’t burn through those forests once again.”

The demon hunter had allowed a nostalgic smile to creepacross his face, but as he pushed himself upright again it was slowly replaced with aknowing scowl. “But that’s the great sacrifice, isn’t it? Knowing that so longas we exist, so too does the Legion. We are not so foolish to think that wecould ever have a place in your world, nor that we deserve one. Our goal may benoble, but it is absolute in its singularity. Once the demons have been purgedfrom existence, we too must follow suit for Azeroth to be truly free.” Thatsmile returned as the Night Elf began to laugh. “Just don’t tell Gwenivyr that.I would rather face the trials of the Twisting Nether than debate that topicagain.”

[xerathien-blog]

I think you’re spot on with the monotony of writing conflict for one enemy, and I think that concept extends to all players, not just role players. Just look at Warlords of Draenor and the over abundance of orc encounters. I’m curious as to how this impacts your roleplay though, and would love your thoughts on how your characters react to current events if they’re not participating in them. As the author do you think there is a balance or way to satisfy those creative needs while not doing a disservice to the character? Of course, it could be that your character doesn’t want anything to do with the Legion, but if that’s the case I’d imagine it would bring quite a bit if scorn from characters putting their lives on the line.

News Nerd Rants: RP in War Times

 So, in case you didn’t know, we’re in a war against one of Azeroth’s greatest enemies.

For a lot of people, that means all War RP all the time. And if that excites you and makes your RP a blast, go for it!

But for others, it is the backdrop to the stories we wanna tell, and not something we wanna engage in.

I won’t lie; I’m bored with the Legion. There are only so many ways you can fight the demons. And almost every expac (Barring Mists and Cata) have had demons as a MAJOR enemy and the cause of certain problems.

So spending a whole expac fighting nothing but demons? I won’t lie when I say I’m over that. Gonna go over here and fight Old God cultists and criminals and terrorists for SI:7 instead.

And I just think it’s a hard thing to create conflict RP with. After all, How does one humanize and make a dreadlord or succubus relatable? 

The answer? You don’t. Or if you do, you’re bending lore. 

So instead, I focus on enemies I can humanize. Corrupt politicians. Men who seek purpose through destruction. Magical users who seek power by any means necessary.

Those are individuals who I can fight and maybe relate to. An endless wave of beings who only wish to destroy the world? Less so.

——

I say all this so I can make the following statement.

Let people RP what they want. While WoW stands for World of WARcraft, we, as writers, play characters involved in commerce, intrigue, local politics, crime, law and so much more. The fact that my character does not wish to spend their waking days hunting demons does not mean they are less valuable than those on the Isles.

SO: if you yourself enjoy RPing on the Isles, then by all means. Go for it! But don’t dismiss others because they are not enjoying the wartime scene.

Honestly, I would love it if Blizzard put more time into exploring how the localized areas around the capitals were affected by the war on a cultural, commercial and spiritual level.

But they won’t. Cuz there’s no money in it. The highest proportion of players are in it for content and raiding and PVP, not lore and RP.

But what’s your take? How do you RP out the presence of a war with an endless Legion? 

[xerathien-blog]

Reblog this if I have permission to come into your askbox IC at any point if my muse has a question for yours.

[xerathien-blog]

Dread.

It washed over Xerathien’s body in its purest form, his hands instinctively gripping on to the female’s biceps. Those large palms, along with his lower jaw, shook slightly as anxiety built in the pit of the Illidari’s stomach. It’s not possible. She’s lying. The thought tried to remain prominent in his mind, an artifact of a psychological defense mechanism that had been at work all week, but it was now failing. No, she wasn’t lying. The sight she saw, no one living should have known about what happened in that cave.

“You can’t let her win.” Her. It was no longer a thing, no longer a nameless, faceless demon residing in a far off plane of existence trying to torment an innocent human. Xera tried his best to keep her face from appearing in his mind’s eye, knowing all too well that those lovely elven features were far beyond corrupted. If she was alive… No. She was alive, and he knew what that meant. Everything that made Valearia the mentor and friend he cared for died in that tunnel. What tormented Gwenivyr now was a monster, one that neither of them was prepared to face.

“You must resist. No matter what. She will come here and destroy everything we know.” His voice was shaky, genuine fear filling those words. “Gwenivyr… Please. Don’t give her what she wants. You don’t know what she’s capable of.” Demons were terrible creatures, with a capacity for death and destruction far beyond anything most beings had faced. But the Felsworn elevated those traits to new depths of depravity. Much in the same way the Man’ari reveled in the destruction or corruption of their Draenei cousins, the Felsworn’s hatred for their brothers and sisters knew no limits. Xerathien understood this, understood that he had created this creature, and understood that if she found them, all would be lost. The demon hunter thought of leaving, exiling himself so that he could no longer cause the human any more torment, but that thought didn’t last. Valearia already had her, and after the incident in Suramar Xerathien recognized that Gwenivyr was only alive as long as she had an answer to give.

His large hand moved from her shoulder up to her hair, his fingers intertwining in those red locks before combing through it. His face contorted with sadness, and for the first time since he left the Black Temple, Xerathien didn’t know what to do. Let her come. Let her destroy you and allow Gwenivyr to flee. Make that sacrifice. This thought was not instantly banished. In fact, the Night Elf humored it for a long time. If Valearia got what she wanted, wrought her vengeance upon him she might leave the human alone. His eyelids closed for a moment, the fel magic that consistently poured from those empty sockets becoming blocked and causing the thin skin to glow a dim green.

“I am so sorry, Gwenivyr.”.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He didn’t sound angry or upset, but rather hurt. Gwen pressed into him, his large arms pulling her into his lap. She hadn’t slept, hardly ate, was weak. 

“Because I thought it was just me. I thought that, that maybe it would just go away but it hasn’t, Xera. The voices, the painful visions… seeing things I just don’t know. I realized something was really wrong when-” She stopped herself. She felt the Illidari push her back just enough to look at her red eyes, the bags heavy. 

“When what?” He urged her, a long finger moving strand of hair behind her ear. Her shoulders slumped, unsure if saying it was even safe. But she wasn’t safe was she? Whoever this person was they were able to torment her every second of every day.

“When I asked myself where you lived….” Gwen pressed her head against his chest. “All this time I thought I was just crazy until that, then I found out there was more going on. Xera someone is in my head and I can’t get them out or make it stop. It’s only bee-” Gwenivyr screamed in pain as her mind felt as if it exploded, that horrible sensation coming back again. It was that same vision! The one where he left her calling for his help. When it was done she burst out in frustrated sobs, hands clutching his chest.

“I keep seeing it! The same thing over and over! My leg is trapped, I’m on the ground… I’m calling to you and you turn and look at me and then you just run away…Then there’s pain and screams and Xera what is happening to me!?”

[xerathien-blog]

Visions

“What’s happening to him?”

This was the first time that Xerathien had watched other elves undergo the same ritual he had, and it was horrible. The ones who could not survive their battle with the demon seemed to have the most forgiving fate; killed in an instant while the supervising Illidari quickly cut down the summoned creature. For those who were strong enough to survive, their battle was far from over. As the blood coursed through their veins, their bodies twisted and writhed in ways the Night Elf did not think possible. Bones were shattered and organs became corrupted beyond use. A myriad of pain was brought down upon many of his kin, and their lives were slowly ended in a far more agonizing manner. But there was one who survived long enough to wake up, yet his fate seemed to be the cruelest of all.

“The Ashtongue tell me that his visions haven’t stopped.” Valearia calmly responded. She and Xerathien stood at the back of a large room, watching the Broken try to tend to the poor Sin’dorei male. His short, jet black hair was pressed hard against the table as he struggled against the restraints. “Release me! I’ll do whatever you want! Please! Just let me see my family!” His cries echoed throughout the chamber, and though the Ashtongue tried to tend to him as best they could he continued to lash out against them as though demons were toying with his body. Nothing could soothe him; not their gentle shamanistic magic, nor even the simple comfort of a warm cloth. Every touch they made, every word they spoke seemed to fuel the living nightmare the Blood Elf was now enthralled in. Vale lifted her head to look up at Xerathien, sensing his discomfort at the scene. She could only imagine what was going through his head as he watched this unfold. Slowly, she lifted her palm up to his shoulder and pressed against it. “Why don’t you go get some rest?” Her words sounded more like a command than a suggestion, but there was kindness in them all the same. “I’m going to stay, see what I can do for him.”

Without hesitation, Xerathien obeyed and turned on his heel to leave the chamber. Though as he made his way past the doorway, beyond any of their immediate sights, he stayed to watch just a little longer. He was still getting used to his spectral sight, most things in his magical gaze still fuzzy and hard to make out. Even still, he could still discern Valearia’s elven figure as she moved towards the man on the table. Xera watched with extreme curiosity as the cries from the man began to die down with her arrival. Within minutes, the room was completely silent, and the elf no longer struggled against the table. The Kal'dorei smiled, barely being able to make out the Ashtongue unstrapping the man from his restraints and carrying his body away. She must have found a way to knock him out, his naive mind thought as he proceeded away from the chamber.

--

Slowly, Xerathien’s eyelids opened and the fel magic began to light the room once more. He pushed his torso up from the bed and looked down to the sleeping human beside him. That was a rare sight indeed, amongst all the visions she had been having he thought he’d never find her calmly asleep, even if this was just temporary. His long fingers gently ran through her hair, but hopefully not enough to wake her. The Night Elf longed to be able to help her, to be able to do something. But no matter how hard he tried to talk to her, tried to understand what was going on she just continued to shut him out. He wasn’t mad about that, though. He understood that her anger at him did not come from a genuine place. Xerathien took a moment to look around, and upon realizing it was still the dead of night, leaned back into the bed, carefully wrapping his arms around the human. Oh, how he wished Valearia was there. She would have known how to handle this. Xera forced his eyelids to close and his mind to jump to another topic before that guilt could overtake him again, a ritual he had become familiar with over the past week. He wasn’t going to live through that memory again. Not tonight. Instead, he pressed himself into the human and thought about their time in Feralas. But even as he dreamt of their trip, the doubt still lingered, the guilt still hiding deep within his chest.

What if she survived?

[xerathien-blog]

"I'm pregnant."

Zarriah Mirthbane took a step backward and the fallen leaves crunched hard beneath her boot. The Blood Elf lowered her knife and folded her arms under her bust, taking a deep inhale of the crisp air that flooded Stormheim in the early mornings. These were her favorite moments; when she could just relax and enjoy her work around good company. With a little bit of wine, some food, and proper seating it would nearly be as though she were back in Silvermoon, she mused. As Zarriah looked over her work once more, the demon hunter frowned slightly. There was much to do if she were to create a masterpiece, but she had time, and now quite an interesting topic to discuss! “Now explain to me why you think she’s betrayed you?” Zarriah didn’t bother to turn her head back to address her companion, finding inspiration in that moment and instantly returning to her project.

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Xerathien said, watching that lithe blood elf pounce back into action. The way she moved was disturbingly elegant, her medium length, golden hair flowing through the wind as though it moved through water instead of becoming tangled in her movements. “Between the fel, and our species it just should not work. She must have found her way to another.” The Kal’dorei did not sound particularly frustrated, or angry for that matter. In fact, there was a hint of fear in his voice. The thought of a child terrified him, especially as he was now. Perhaps some part of him wished Gwenivyr had found another lover. Their offspring would certainly be more welcome on Azeroth than whatever demon spawn could possibly be forming in her now. All of this was assuming that child survived birth in the first place, of course.

“Why not?” Zarriah responded with a groan, looking for a foothold before pushing herself upwards. “Those foul Orcs drank the same blood we did, and yet they can spawn.” With a heave, Zarriah found her grip and was finally up to the proper workspace. Lifting her knife up, she aimed for a particularly barren spot and slowly lowered the blade, carving with the care of a master craftsman. She continued to speak as she did so, reminding the Night Elf that, “We fed off the same demonic magic that you do now for years, and we could still reproduce.“ Slowly the Sin’dorei’s head turned back to look at the large elven man, a seductive, knowing grin adorning her face as her small tongue peaked through just a touch to run the length of them. Seeing Xerathien unfazed by her antics was nothing new, but Zarriah feigned disappointment all the same. “Even if we were, I don’t think it would have stopped that one from trying.” Zarriah’s hair waved in the wind as she motioned towards an area off to her left with her head, refusing to be pulled away from her work again.

Xerathien turned his head to watch Zelin drop from the tree branches, his glaives brought down upon a lone wolf that had been attracted to the site of the Illidari’s work. Zarriah had been using fel fire to sear flesh and prevent too much bleeding, and while that horrible smell of sulfur filled the surrounding woods for miles this wolf seemed a bit too curious for his own good. “You’d think he wouldn’t have been happy until he tasted all of Silvermoon!” Zarriah shouted at her twin, her jealous tone seemingly genuine. Zelin responded by expertly ripping the glaive from the wolf’s neck and offering his sister a toothy grin, just before returning to his patrol.

“Filthy little lecher.” The female didn’t say another word for a while after that, intent on finishing what she had started. Eventually, she leaped off the Vrykul and landed next to Xerathien. “Well, what do you think?!” Her tone was far too bubbly for this kind of work, but she seemed so proud of what she had created. Even before the Night Elf could respond, the Blood Elf started going over her process as though she were an artist talking to a potential buyer. Her hips swayed from side to side as she approached the Vrykul. “You recognize these patterns, don’t you?” Zarriah moved her hand to rest in an area of the massive creature that used to have flesh, what meat remained burned beyond repair or recognition. “They’re the same set of runes that we use to bind the demons within us! Oh, but you knew that already, didn’t you?” The Vrykul was carved to shreds, his torso and arms missing ribbons of flesh that snaked all the way to his wrists. These carvings were no surface level atrocities, however. The demon hunter had cut completely through his body, allowing one to see through the Vrykul straight to the other side. Zarriah had made sure to avoid cutting off his bone or through vital organs, however. She wanted the beast to feel every second of her touch, every delightfully agonizing moment of her play. In the beginning, the Vrykul had struggled against the binds that held him to the tree, but as the little demon continued to work he seemed to simply give up, waiting for death. But that was the great trick Zarriah always held with her playmates: death would only come on her terms. Dark magic forced the Vrykul to stay conscious during the excavation of his flesh, and even now as Zarriah crawled her way up his body, using those same carved areas as footholds, he could do nothing but watch and writhe in pain. Suddenly, the shirt he wore that had been stuffed in his mouth was ripped out, and he could cry out once more. Though he wanted to scream, shatter the woods with a howl not heard in Stormheim for ages, his body simply wouldn’t allow it. Every movement he made, whether through the breath he was forced to draw or a reaction to an earlier pain, made him long for that sweet release.

“The Halls of Valor await me.” The beast said, lowering his head feeling the end come no matter how much that demonic magic fought against it. Zarriah only snickered and shook her head, those blond locks falling loosely around the Vrykul’s head. “No, they don’t.” She responded by whispering into his ear, those luscious lips clasping around it as her hand was pressed onto his chest. For a brief moment, The Vrykul felt at peace, his soul leaving his body and the call of Odin’s glorious hall beckoned him onwards. He relaxed as that feeling of weightlessness carried him into a great light, but then in an instant, there was a sharp pain, as though whiplash had just overtaken his consciousness. That bright light was gone, consumed by cracking green flame and relentless shadow.

Zarriah hopped off her pray, having finished consuming his soul, and returned to standing before Xerathien. Zalin had come to join them too, seeing as their ‘mission’ was complete. “I think you should just go tell her how you feel, Xerathien.” Zarriah happily hummed, placing the same hand that had just ripped out a soul onto his chest, her fingers drumming across it. “Besides, if you don’t want her anymore I would be more than delighted to play with the human.” With a wink or rather a wrinkle of her luxurious blindfold, Zarriah released her hand and the twins set off on their own.

Upon returning home, Xerathien opened the door to his room and found Gwen resting on the bed. She seemed to wake up at his presence and greeted him. “I want to talk about this.” Xera slowly shut the door behind him, and moved to sit next to the Human on the bed. “I do not know how this works, or what you require of me. I suppose, I just need to know how; how do we proceed from here?”

[xerathien-blog]

"Who is she? Why is she doing this?"

“She was my mentor. My ally… My friend.”

Xerathien reached down to the parchment, the arcane dust infused ink Gwen used to draw the creature in her nightmares clearly visible to his magical sight. How was this even possible? Gwenivyr had nearly perfectly recreated the female Sin’dorei, from the tattoos on her body to the style of her hair. Even her left horn, whose curve was slightly offset from the right, was matched perfectly on the paper. It shouldn’t have been possible. A deep, lingering sadness manifested itself in the Illidari’s chest in the form of a dull pain as the memories began to flood his mind. From the moment Valearia found him, broken on the temple grounds to the instant the Night Elf decided to leave her behind in the Warden’s prison, every second of every memory of their time spent together now felt like it was trying to drown him. Gwenivyr’s drawing was slowly crushed in his large, corrupted palm. Guilt was consuming the demon hunter and he reacted in the only way he knew how: by not believing any of it.

“A demonic trick. Nothing more.” Xerathien tried his best to hold himself together. Gwen did not need to know any more about Valearia, nor about what he had done. He longed for the earlier days when she believed the Smiley Killer had come back to haunt her. Even though it was hard to watch her from an outside perspective, at least it didn’t directly involve him or his sins. Suddenly her question from the other night rang through his head. ‘Would you leave me behind?’ Those past words echoed through his mind as his upper lip flared, those sharp teeth becoming exposed to the warm air of the home. Something sinister was playing with the human, turning her against him. An inquisitor, or perhaps a particularly powerful succubus. What if she survived? That thought was instantly buried, the Kal’dorei not realizing he was growling out loud. No, Valearia was dead. He had killed her, sentenced to die so that he could live.

“XERA!” The man looked down to find Gwenivyr pulling on his arm, having to yell to get his attention. “What is going on?” She asked timidly, exhausted for all of her sleepless nights and the voices constantly battling in her head. The elven male took a long time to respond, still trying to sort through everything himself. “I… I need time to think.” For the first time since these visions started, he moved to another part of the house without Gwen. He was frustrated, confused, and sad all at the same time and felt as helpless as the day the Legion destroyed his home in Feralas. Upon finding a quiet spot in the kitchen, Xera sat down on the floor and let his eyelids close, halting the flow of fel magic that constantly poured from those sockets. He began to run through different options. Perhaps a mage could construct magical barriers around the house, or the Illidari could set up demonic wards. Surely there were ways to stop these intrusions, but no matter how many countless plans ran through his head, that buried guilt seemed to creep its way back into his mind.

What if she survived?

[xerathien-blog]

"How do I look?" She asked in her new armor her eyes... glowing...?

The Illidari paced around the woman, again and again, each time his hand tracing over a new element of the armor. Occasionally, he’d stop to pull on some of the golden metal or grasp the expertly interweaved blue cloth. “Better than I do.” He said, a hint of jealousy in those words. All the armor he had received was as solid as the set the Gwenivyr was wearing, but it was always unpolished and rough looking. Xera supposed that being blind, he should have little desire for outward appearances and that was true until today. Gwen had been receiving pieces of her new gear slowly throughout the past few weeks, and now that they were assembled on her was quite envious of the care that went into protecting the human.

“How does it fit? Is anything too heavy?” Xerathien leaned down to look more closely at her boots, which were composed of golden metal covering her toes, the back of her calves, and two golden rings; one capping it off just under her knee while the other wrapped just above her ankle. The rest of the boot was composed of that tight interweaved cloth which seemed to be as sturdy as leather. As he moved up her body, he took note of the large metal plates that protected the sides of her thighs. Xera lifted a fist to knock against them, wondering if they would weigh her down too much. The Night Elf knew she didn’t need to be as fast as he was in battle, and he was far from having any expertise in armament design, but even still he wondered how the poor human could move with all of this on. All he had seen her in previously was just… linen. Even her belt was forced to hang low with the weight of more metal at its tip, designed protect her crotch while still giving her enough flexibility to move.

Xera pushed himself fully upright, arms folding across his chest. “I’m still surprised you can see through that thing.” The most interesting part of the armor’s design, perhaps, were the glowing enchantments that covered her metal faceplate. As Gwen moved, the silver blue magic ebbed and flowed like water moving through the air. She said she could see just fine, describing it as ‘wearing sunglasses’ and while Xera believed her, he still didn’t fully understand their purpose. Perhaps they were meant to intimidate her foes or even help her fit in with beings like himself. In any case, Xera just smiled and placed his hand on her now heavily armored shoulder.

“You look like you’re ready to save the world.”

[xerathien-blog]

Xerathien continued to frown at the small creature, being able to hold it in the palm of his large, corrupted hand. He did not like how it wasn’t afraid of him, thinking the little baby should be just as fearful of the Legion’s power as everyone else. Yet here it was, eating and playing and having the time of its short existence trying to reach for his horns while other beings mocked their very existence. I liked his horns too when I first met him! The words seemed to bring the Illidari’s attention back to the female, taking note of how she and the child look at him with the same sense of wonder.

“Yes well, only you get to touch them.” The Night Elf slowly responded, pinching the baby’s incredibly small shirt with his thumb and index finger. “This one will have to find his own Illidari to fall for.” Xera lifted the child into the air like a crane lifting building material to the top of a skyscraper. Once it was clear of his lap, he slowly set it on to the floor and like clockwork, it began to crawl off around the room. In the baby’s haste, it ran its large head into the leg of a table and Xerathien couldn’t help but laugh at the assault. “I didn’t know it was blind too!” He chortled, the baby shaking his head and continuing on his adventure. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, that little creature. Xera knew that could be a nuisance, crying all night and never being pleased, but this one was adventurous and seemingly not afraid of the world around it. As it roamed the Kal’dorei considered what his life would be like, perhaps one of the first beings to grow up on a universe without the constant threat of the Legion looming over him? Would be become a great warrior? A studious arcanist? Or perhaps even a masterful craftsmen? These humans had such short life spans, there was no doubt in the Illidari’s mind that he could observe the small creatures’ entire life, that of his children, and his children’s children if he so desired.

“I think he’s growing on you.” Xera heard the soft voice of his mate chime into his ear which caused his cheeks to flush slightly. “Preposterous. That little thing does not even recognize where it is, let alone have the ability to comprehend the threat that faces this world.” The Illidari’s arms folded across his chest, and he huffed slightly. “I just found it amusing that it could not recognize the table in front of it.”

Gwen has to go make food for the baby, leaving it in Xera's care. After about half an hour she returns to find Xera sitting at the table looking over some scrolls and the baby noticeably missing. "I let it outside to play." He said casually, when asked where the child went. "Did you make any food for me?"

Gwen just stood there for a long moment, trying to process what she heard. ‘I let it out to play… make any food for me?’ Was he… was he serious!? He was… he was absolutely serious. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” She shoved the food onto the table, scrolls falling and being pushed forward.

“Xera he’s like, only a year old you can’t just let him outside to play without watching him!”

“If he can’t survi-”

“XERA THIS ISN’T OUR HALF ELF DEMONIC LIGHT BABY THIS IS SOMEONE ELSE’S KID!” She bolted out the door in a rush only to find…. no child. “Fuck….. they’re going to kill me….” Luckily the two searched, and out of everything the child had found its way to their trusty steeds, the felsaber allowing it to play with its tail while Felend grazed on some nearby grass.

[xerathien-blog]

The Succubus turned from the table, exposing the human bloody, open, and maimed. Yet... still breathing if barely. "Oh boo, I guess she did live long enough, but only to see you die."

“Impudent slave!”

The duel voices rang throughout the chamber as the sound of metal grinding against stone provided apt background noise. Xerathien was beyond enraged, drawing on an anger that had built over weeks of torment for both himself and his mate. As he walked, and those massive war glaives cut trenches into the ancient elven stone, and the Night Elf recalled all the torment this creature seemed to be responsible for. It started at the farm, when he noticed Gwen acting strangely, seemingly paranoid of things that weren’t there.  He had foolishly thought that she was still suffering from her incident with the Smiley Killer, Gwen had told him as much after all, but as the days passed things seemed to get worse. The ferocious demon hunter remembered how Gwen became too afraid to leave the boundaries of her people’s kingdom, then the forest, followed by the fence which encompassed her own land, then her home, until finally she condemned herself to her room with covered windows and a heavily locked door which seemed to provide no aid in easing her fear.

The succubus’ whip cracked through the air, its demon hide length covered in sharp barbs meant to rend flesh from bone. The demon sought to wrap it around the Illidari’s neck, but that long instrument of torture would only find the searing metal of Xerathien’s war glaive. “That’s not fair!” The demon called out, tugging and pulling at the whip with the hope that she could recover it, but it was to no avail. As soon as the demon hunter had secured her weapon, he quickly twisted his body so that he could drive his own blade into the uncomfortably close wall, the howling metal pushing past dirt and rock as old as the world itself. Slowly, Xera turned his head to face the Succubus. He was waiting for some dark magic to infiltrate his mind, or perhaps for the succubus to threaten Gwenivyr with some evil corruption, but nothing came. Instead, the demon, wings wide and tail perked, charged the livid Kal’dorei and Xera felt his heart sink and his stomach reel.

“And I thought we were going to have such fun together.” The succubus tried to purr in as tempting of a voice as she could muster, but the large hand around her throat caused her to cough and wheeze. Even still, she tried to work her charms by running her lithe fingers across his bare arms, tracing the length of her assailant’s tattoos. “Don’t you want to spend a little more time together? We could make the human watch…” The sensation she felt after uttering those words was beautiful in its pain, alluring in the tormented shockwaves it sent through her body. Her blood and innards began to spill from the hole in her stomach, and without control, her upper body fell forward on the Xerathien’s chest. Her long, perfectly cared for black hair collapsed onto his chest and her head seemed to nuzzle against it. “I was having such a good time, too…”

Xerathien dropped the lifeless corpse to the floor and rushed over to Gwen’s side. Normally he would have taken a few moments to consume the demon soul, empower his own form but in that thought resided the cruelest torment of all: this succubus was not the one causing all their pain. Her soul was far too weak to sustain him as she was merely a minor demon, a pawn sent in the service of something far more powerful. Far more dangerous. The Illidari dropped to his knees besides Gwenivyr, but dared not touch her. She was breathing, that was for sure, but there were so many wounds, so much damage that he could do nothing about. If he even attempted to move her, the motion of her being lifted, or them walking, or any other number of unexpected things could end the girl’s life. All he could do was sit there and wait.

“Please, Gwenivyr. Push through.”

[xerathien-blog]

Xerathien folded his arms across his chest as Gwen found the child, still not sure why she was so upset with him. “You know that was quite rude.” He hummed, not quite mad or stern but it wasn’t playful either. The Illidari was genuinely hurt that Gwenivyr had treated him so poorly, or so he thought. “When I was a child I would roam amongst forest for days!” Was that true? Probably not, Xera could only remember the keynotes of his past. But even still he assumed it was something he would do. With a deep sigh, the man unfolded his arms and returned to the house, only to have further disappointment wash over him.

“What… is this…?” He said, cautiously dipping is finger into a pile of mush, and lifting the substance up before his sightless gaze. The smell was just awful, and as he brought it closer to his nose he thought he might be able to make out carrots… or… peas? The Kal’dorei’s nose flared and his sharp teeth bared at the thing before he flicked his finger, causing the goop to land back on the papers he was looking over. Speaking of which, they were utterly maimed by the stuff, the glowing ink that allowed him to see running like a lazy river down the soaked parchment. Xera could only take in a large breath, which caused him to start violently coughing as though he had just breathed in the smoke from a fel furnace. Defeated, Xerathien plopped back into his chair and tried to recover any of the plans on the table, but all were ruined. The only thing he could make out was the bottom corner of the page detailing the specifics of the dress, something about including metal chains to provide support without restricting movement. But even that too was soon overtaken by the mash, and the Night Elf just looked to Gwen and the baby.

How many demons had he slain? How many countless other creatures? All the pain he endured both before and after swearing the serve the Master, and yet here he was. Foiled, by a small human that could not even control its own bowel movements. It made his millennia on Azeroth seem all for naught.

Gwen has to go make food for the baby, leaving it in Xera's care. After about half an hour she returns to find Xera sitting at the table looking over some scrolls and the baby noticeably missing. "I let it outside to play." He said casually, when asked where the child went. "Did you make any food for me?"

Gwen just stood there for a long moment, trying to process what she heard. ‘I let it out to play… make any food for me?’ Was he… was he serious!? He was… he was absolutely serious. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” She shoved the food onto the table, scrolls falling and being pushed forward.

“Xera he’s like, only a year old you can’t just let him outside to play without watching him!”

“If he can’t survi-”

“XERA THIS ISN’T OUR HALF ELF DEMONIC LIGHT BABY THIS IS SOMEONE ELSE’S KID!” She bolted out the door in a rush only to find…. no child. “Fuck….. they’re going to kill me….” Luckily the two searched, and out of everything the child had found its way to their trusty steeds, the felsaber allowing it to play with its tail while Felend grazed on some nearby grass.

[xerathien-blog]

The air was chilly as Xerathien and Gwenivyr began to leave the Pig and Whistle, the pair having spent most of their evening there. It was relaxing, for a change; there were no fights, no uncomfortable meetings, just good wine and good conversation with their Company and their friends. It was late now, most everyone having already left the tavern and so the couple decided it best to do the same. The Illidari wrapped his arm around the human female’s shoulders as they began to walk down a back alley of Old Town, knowing the nipping winter air would soon chill her entire body even with the alcohol doing its best to keep her warm. Xera felt her lean into his bare chest in response, a wordless gesture he had become quite familiar with.

“Well… Look what we have here!” The words broke the peaceful silence of the evening as the couple came to a stop before a man sitting down in the alley. He was dressed rather nicely, a rich purple shirt unbuttoned from the top of his neck down to the middle of his breast while perfectly fit black pants hugged his legs, leading down to equally dark shoes. He appeared to be far from homeless, but he was definitely drunk, that fact revealed by the nearly empty bottle of something he gripped tightly in his left hand. “Never thought I’d see a woman willingly breed with a demon!” The man pushed himself to his feet, his short brown hair that had once been styled with care now fell down to his scalp in a messy heap. “But these are strange times indeed. First I find out my fiancé is a useless whore, and now this!” The male laughed to himself and began to take a step forward. Xerathien kept his arm tight around Gwenivyr, not to protect her but rather to prevent himself from doing something stupid. This human was a pest, one he wouldn’t hesitate to purge but doing so in the middle of the city would have ramifications he was not prepared to face. “Tell you what, darlin’.” The human said again, becoming more confident with each step he took towards his prize. “Why don’t we make a deal. Why don’t you join me in my bed tonight, replace that old hag, and in turn I’ll protect you from that stinking demon that keeps tryin’ to put a little monster inside of ya! How’s that sound?” The human male reached out to Gwen’s face with his right hand and gently caressed it, letting his fingers grip the bottom of her chin as he began to pull it forward towards his own face. Xera was enraged, his arm already moving from Gwen’s shoulder as he sought to maim and shred the male for encroaching on his territory, but something stopped him dead in his tracks.

The Night Elf needed to take a few steps backward from the humans to fully understand what was going on, or at least try to, because before him was a concerning sight for multiple reasons. The male seemed frozen in time, his fingers still on his lover’s face, but he was not moving at all; just holding an awkwardly leaned forward position as though he was in the middle of an action. More worrying, however, was the shadow that enveloped the female. He was so used to see that glowing light radiating from Gwenivyr that this darkness, this new magic, made him freeze in his spot. But even though he felt like he couldn’t move, his spectral gaze still allowed him to watch these terrible events unfold. Gwen’s hands were weaving a spell that he had never seen her cast before, and Xera could see the shadow creeping out from her spellcasting to completely envelop the man. Once it overtook him, the drunken male finally began to move. Slowly, robotically, he took a step backward and stood up straight. Again, he was frozen, his face pointed slightly upwards as his body did it’s best to remain still. Xera tried to figure out just exactly what his mate was doing, but then he realized the male’s chest wasn’t moving: he wasn’t breathing. The Illidari watched, a bit in awe, as the male’s body began to involuntarily shake as it began to panic, no fresh oxygen filling those lungs. The body was clearly struggling, looking for any way to just expand his chest to get any amount of air, but even its natural defenses could not compete against the darkness Gwen held over the man, his face turning a deep crimson before the rest of his body followed suit. He still gripped the bottle tightly, it shaking violently now yet still holding that position Gwen was clearly commanding him to be in. But then, in an instant, it all stopped. The human dropped to his knees, and then his chest collided with the stone walkway shortly after causing the glass of the bottle to shatter around him. Xerathien looked to Gwen, who had finally stop spellcasting, and as the shadows left her she too fell to the floor.

“I killed him.” Gwenivyr whispered, finally coming to. She found herself safely wrapped in the comfort of her bed, the Illidari crouched over her, sitting just to her right. “I know.” He responded as lovingly as he could, running those long corrupted fingers through her silken red hair. The Illidari gave her a once over with his magical gaze, though he knew that the shadows were completely gone from having done so repeatedly since they arrived home. With a deep breath, Xera lifted the sheets above himself and moved to hold the girl, the silence of the cold evening once again overtaking both their senses. He wanted to go to sleep, put the day behind him but questions lingered. Questions he needed answers to. The Kal’dorei rolled over on his shoulder so that he was leaning above Gwenivyr. “Where… did you learn to do that?”

💀

“I killed him.”

[xerathien-blog]

"Stay with me! Don't you dare leave me now!"

(Song inspiration: Flowers for a Ghost: Thriving Ivory)

See my head aches from all this thinkin’

Feels like a ship God, God knows I’m sinkin’…

It had been a long day. Xerathien surprised her with a short visit to the pond to spend some time alone with her. Gwenivyr hadn’t done anything else. Staying behind closed doors and keeping interaction to a minimal. Even welcoming visitation or greeting those who lived with her became minimal. And why? The whole demon in her head ordeal had paranoid her so much that she swore up and down no one was going to be targeted because of her. The less people around her, the better.

That and this thing didn’t know where they were… right? Slipping further down into the tub she sighed heavily, her right arm hanging out of the tub and her left leg propped up so they didn’t get wet. Closing her blue eyes she pressed her lips together and began thinking about everything taking place. One image and thought fluttered into another as soon she was remembering the small vacation she and Xera had taken a few months back to his home. It was to get away from everything and just spend quality time with one another. But there was one memory that stood out above the rest.

They had just arrived and made camp, the leaves whispering in the wind as the ambiance of the forest filled the air. Everything was tinged in golden light and the air was crisp and the world full of life. Her heart was fluttering against her chest as they laid by the campfire in the setting sun. Life was utterly perfect then and there, as if time itself stood still just for them.

Opening her eyes she noticed the water was getting a bit high. Before she sat up to turn it off her eyes glanced over to the side as again, Xerathien entered her mind, but it was shattered as red pin-pointed glowing eyes met hers. Before she could even get out a scream a black arm burst from the black chest, it’s claws slamming into her skin and forcing her under the water. Flailing and fighting she tried to hold her breath, or what little she had since the thing caught her by surprise. Under the surface of the moving water she stared in fear of the contorted creature that loomed above her. Those skinny, long razor white fangs that were exposed due to a lack of lips to conceal them; just a black blob of shadow as a body. If one could notice her tears mixing with the water they would know the fear and terror that flooded through her.

Reaching to the arm she tried to pry it from her chest before grasping the sides of the tub to try and break from the water. No use. Her demon was stronger than her will.

‘You aren’t strong enough…’ The voice caused her to release the air she was holding, bubbles clouding her vision.

‘Stop struggling and just let it happen, Gwenivyr. You don’t deserve to live anymore. You’re too weak for him, too easily overpowered. You can’t defend yourself, you can’t hold your own. How many times has he saved you because you couldn’t save yourself? He deserves someone stronger. Someone worth living for. You? You’re a coward. A liar. You’re nothing. … Just go to sleep…’

Was this it?

Her vision was becoming darker as her lungs became desperate and sucked in water, the flow not stopping. She felt her fight starting to cease and her mind struggling with thoughts. What about Ryan finally finding himself? What about Jason finding his smile again? Riley forgiving her for whatever it was she did? Everything was fading to black and she felt herself slipping. She wasn’t going to be able to shine. She wasn’t going to be able to accomplish all she could… Xerathien was never going to know anything…. No one was going to know how she felt about them and maybe it was for the best. Gwenivyr was too tired to fight anymore, too tired to play hero and be this light everyone made her seem. She wanted to give up. She wanted to go to sleep. She closed her eyes and drifted off, everything falling to -

Silence.

That was what he woke up to as he sat up and gave a loud yawn. Xerathien ran a hand through his hair as he noticed that the water was running in the bathroom. He was worried about her for more than one reason ever since she said she could hear voices and see things that weren’t there. The alcohol consumption bothered him, too, but he was in no position to tell her what she could and couldn’t do when it came to her coping with it. At this point and time whatever she felt would help her fight the thing in her head until they could kill it. Even still he ‘was’ going to bring it up that she should tone it down some. Standing up he adjusted his armor accordingly.

Heading towards the kitchen he paused by the bathroom.

“Hey Gwen, what are we having for dinner? I’m starving!” He stood there a moment and waited for a response, though none came. Giving a quizzical look to the door he gave a knock.

“Gwenivyr, are you okay?” He went to grasp the handle and jiggled it, noting that it was locked. Strange. It was then that he felt something cool touch his toes and he looked down, taking a step back to see water coming from underneath the door. His eyes widened and his heart raced as things clicked in his head. With adrenaline pumping he didn’t hesitate to connect his shoulder violently with the door until it popped open. However the sight that he saw was something he wasn’t prepared for. His heart stopped as all he saw was… darkness. He could make out the outline of her body, but the light… the light was gone.

Reaching into the tub he pulled the lifeless body from the water and laid her on the ground, ignoring the fact he was now soaked himself. Moving her long hair from her face he patted her cheeks hoping to wake her up.

“No! No no no, come on! You can’t leave me right now!” And it was the truth. There were so many things left! And if she was lost while he was there…. No! Placing his hands in the middle of her chest he gave three pumps prior before putting his mouth over hers. Thank the Light she had taught him this technique, even if he never thought he would have to use it. Personally the Illidari assumed it was just a human thing. Continuing the pumps and oxygen he lifted his head for the third time and pumped.

“Dammit Gwenivyr! Wake up! Stay with me! Don’t you dare leave me now!” Giving another fierce push to her chest he jumped as water leaped from her mouth and she started coughing and sucking in all the air her lungs desired. Xerathien felt a breath escape his lips as she gained her barrings and eventually looked up to him, blinking.

“Xera?”

“Fuck, Gwen!” Grasping hold of her he lifted her up and embraced her in a tight hug, she remembering what had transpired as she noted the overflowing tub. No… had she? Tears burned her eyes as she closed them and clutched her lover, burring her face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Xerathien… Fuck I’m so, so sorry-”

“Don’t you EVER do that again, do you understand!? Don’t you ever scare me like that! You can’t just leave me!” He pulled her away so he talked directly to her, his face showing nothing but fear, relief, and worry. She nodded as his hands held her like she could be taken away at any given moment.

“I-I won’t… I didn’t mean too I just-” Gwenivyr stopped herself.

“I fell asleep…. I’m so, so sorry..”

And all I am is all I could not mention

Like who will bring me flowers when it’s over?

And who will give me comfort when it’s cold?

See I never meant for you to have to crawl

No I never meant to let you go at all.