shadowdragonempyrian

[shadowdragonempyrian]

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[shadowdragonempyrian]

Stained

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Writing: The Villain

In most stories, there is a tangible villain that works at every opportunity to stop your hero from reaching their goal. They are oftentimes the epitome of evil and hatred, depending on how extremely their villainy runs. In many ways, they are almost as important as the main character, so here are some tips on developing them well.

Villains should be handled with the same deep thought as heroes.

Just because they’re the villain doesn’t mean they aren’t a very major character, and complex characters are always more favorable than simple, boring characters. Develop their appearance and personality in detail. Formulate a backstory. Understand the motivations behind what they do, and let their actions reflect their internal desires.

Find ways to make your villain stand out from other villains.

Most villains are maniacal. They are almost all willing to do terrible things in order to get what they want. A lot of villains are related to their character in some way, and sometimes this relationship is revealed in a plot twist. These are all well and good, but trying to make these ideas seem fresh and interesting is difficult nowadays. Play with your ideas and tweak these tropes, or maybe even disregard them all together. Do what you can to make your villain not sound like another Voldemort or Darth Vader. (Reading your work and/or having others read your work is a good way to see if your villain (and other characters, too) are interesting and unique enough.)

Consider that your villain is (probably) still human.

Even if they aren’t human in the technical sense, they probably still have human emotions. Give your character depth by exploring their sense of morality and where they came from. Why do they think what they’re doing is acceptable. Do they think it’s acceptable? What happened that lead them up to this point of villainy?

Explore your villain’s relationship with the other characters.

Are they closely connected with your hero and the hero’s friends? Are they in no way related? What did the good characters do to get on the villain’s bad side? How deep does your villain’s anger or hatred for your hero run? Do they hate them at all, or are they doing what they’re doing for another reason? Are the things that your villain is doing a direct result of the hero’s actions, or was there another cause?

Decide what the end result of the villain’s actions will be.

You have one of two very basic routes this can take: your villain can either defeat or be defeated by the hero. The hero also has one of two routes (if they defeat the villain): they can defeat them by force and kill/imprison/etc. them, or they can “convert” them to the good side. How will this decision affect your villain? How will it affect the overall story? How will it affect the other characters? What will the long-term effects be?

Their motivations must be believable.

Too often the villain comes off as cheesy or unsatisfying because there doesn’t seem to be a good reason for them to be acting against the main character. Their actions and motivations should be just as definitive and interesting as any other character’s. Try to avoid falling into the trap of “sworn revenge” for no good reason–or, even worse, copping out by saying the villain is “just crazy”.

[shadowdragonempyrian]

7734

Self-aggrandizing. Vainglorious.

"Bones" leant back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the pages of an ancient grimoire open on his desk. He pulled deeply from the rolled cigarette, felweed burning with a flare of sickly green. He considered the taste, and the thought.

I don't know how much of her own bullshit she believes. Not sure how much of it is the game or the work. You want confidence as a sorcerer, you want an attitude. You want gravitas. But you never let it become hubris, you never let the smoke become your substance. Wouldn't underestimate her, though.

He blew smoke from his mouth in a thick, undulous cloud that hissed and seemed to move of its own accord, and licked his teeth.

She's powerful, obviously. More powerful than me? Maybe. Maybe even probably in raw magic. Competent. Brutal. Smart. I'd put a few copper on my knowing more craft than she does, more tricks, more magical low-blows and eye-gouges. Doubt she's willing to eat the shit I will to win a scrap, though. That's the thing about the people that have those delusions of grandeur, the people that let the smoke pool too thickly in their own ass, the... "gods", the "goddesses". They don't see things the way the insects do, the roaches and the flies, and they're the ones that get fat on corpses when everything's over, when all the gods are dead. That's what staying human helps you do. Think low to the ground. Punch up. Bite. Bleed. Scrape. Struggle.

Why sell yourself as a goddess, at all? Doesn't she know that mortals are the real monsters, anyway?

He shrugged, flicking his cigarette off to the stone to smolder and die into ashes.

Still wouldn't underestimate her. She's easier and more helpful to shmooze than to make an enemy of. She's amusing, and I doubt we'll ever have to come to blows. She's more useful as an eccentric ally.

He tilted his head slowly to one side, one eye squinting.

I'd do her, probably. Once. Just for curiosity's sake.

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Dark Origins: Cursed Retribution - Pt. 3

Setting: Centuries after the Sundering... The Maw, Zovaal's Cauldron

"This is your karma. You do not understand now, but you will understand later." - H. Raven Rose

Omnipotent. Eternal. Indomitable.

Each of these attributes became a shackle that halted his advance. But what made a soul truly complete, was that of another. Ivoriya's presence was a light that pierced the shadows that had concealed him entirely. The fire within his eyes became quelled by her essence as his fangs snapped together to dismiss his disbelief. His ethereal form now took on a shape - which he did not know he had physically developed through the consumption of anima.

He had become the Jailer's worst enemy in such a short period of time. At Zovaal's Cauldron, which was the staging area for the Jailer's army, had become littered in dark flames and weapons that had no wielders. But there was no way to know how much time had passed when those attacks stopped coming. It should have warranted some suspicion given the relentless assaults from the ground and the skies. But each and every time, Empyrian could not be overwhelmed. He was a force beyond the likes the Jailer had laid his eye upon.

However, there was always a means to bargain with death. This was something Zovaal knew as the former Arbiter and judge of all souls. Every soul catered to their own purpose, which was why he believed in reality needing remade. There was no unity, only division. And what force was made strong, was those with the same intent - that he had forged and ruled over with his own will and domination magic.

Reflecting further on this wyrm's progression against his army, Zovaal calculated the benefit of making a brood of Sin-Eaters for his own forces. The skies had been ruled primarily by the dedicated Mawsworn Kyrian - and even their strengths could not match that of a dragon's. Though he knew there would be no means to put Empyrian to use. Even with his beloved mate's soul, their joy was experienced through freedom - which wasn't a cost he could afford to provide.

"Take the Soul-Render to Perdition's Hold. Ensure he does not see the light from another soul again."

Setting: Peridition's Hold, the Maw Azeroth - The First War is now taking place

With the closing of his fist, Ivoriya's presence was snuffed from view, as the prison Empyrian found himself in was impenetrable to any means of light. The chains that shackled him held firm, ensuring that his soul was kept in suspended animation. Claws that had developed tensed against the air - seeking anything to come into contact with to express his newfound duress. He knew his mate had died. Yet her soul - he felt her aura. It brought warmth he had forgotten since his coming to the Shadowlands.

Bereft in newfound grief, his strength only continued to wane. The isolation provided no peace or comfort from the growing remorse of this curse. Every time Ivoriya was there, he fell. Had she become his weakness and greatest enemy? He wanted to love her. But it was his love for her that broke him. That got him killed.

A seed of resentment now began to grow within. Festering the shadows along his body like well stoked flames. He was so strong because that was how he was designed to be. It was an irrefutable fact, and it was so simple to understand. There was no need for reliance of another or to trust. He was his own greatest ally. He was his own strength. He would be unstoppable.

Though the matter at hand was not so easily reconciled. His surrender to the Master of the Maw had enabled him to be caged. And while he could feel the power in his body, there were precautions put in place to keep him weakened. Those chains were not just for show given the carvings of runes that lined every link. He was knowledgeable enough to understand the craft served in its purpose to keep him tethered.

Every now and then, he tried to see if there was something new, he could learn. But it appeared that his captivity had left him in the deepest cell beneath Perdition's Hold. The wardens of this prison never revisited his place of holding since he was brought there. Which left him with plenty of freedom to think, to scheme, and to undo their hold over him. And there would be no finer opportunity then when too many souls had flooded their dominion. It just required him to be ready.

Setting: Perdition's Hold Azeroth - The Second War is now underway

Yet his body would develop some changes in his captivity. Bones of corpses were cast like waste beneath him - beyond any point of use. At least, that was what those above had thought, and the feelings he felt soon dripped from the shadows. Black blood coursed freely over the bones. What had been dormant in the marrow would undergo some form of evolution in an unrefined technique of a newfound innate curse. Bones wobbled beneath him - seeking to connect and rebuild - but only the small corpses of mawrats ever took shape. Their eyes gleaming with a hunger of their host dangling above them.

The first of these mawrats, would be named Shade. He scarcely noted the mawrat upon his back as his flesh and scale were torn away from his back. How odd was it that the role of a hunter and the hunted became reversed. It should have angered him. But there was an acceptance and a wish for it to continue - that perhaps he would find some new means of freedom with less of his body.

The next to have taken shape, was Plague. A rodent infested with the twisted diseases of his kin that had never lived a full life in good health. He was the most subtle with his danger, infecting Empyrian with a blight. The acuity of the dragon's senses would lower considerably, making his ability to detect the rodents near impossible.

Grim joined by his brother, Malice - would seek to remove the flesh from Empyrian's head, polishing the surface of his great skull for all to see beneath his shroud of shadows.

But the largest of these bred curses was Apathy. This mawrat quadrupled the size of his brethren. And his appetite was conducted without any inkling of remorse. His fangs gnawed away the surface of Empyrian's chest, exposing the place where his heart would have ached. The most delectable bits of his anima were feasted on - destroying the notion of compassion, empathy, and care.

A hollow laugh was freed from Empyrian's maw as he felt delight in such a gathering of obedient hosts. He shifted a claw experimentally while the 5 rats sat with their fill and gave him company he had long since forgotten. Gruesome as he looked and felt now, he could not help but revel in his evolution. There was a sense of immaculate pride that could not be undone.

Not only had his blood given reanimated the dead, but it also cursed the earth. A single black rose grew beneath him and blossomed in the wake of his sins. The display alone showcased what even the most polarizing efforts of ill-intended good could create. Confinement was just another means to breed his contempt and hatred for all things.

Displeasure swelled now as rat kin grew restless in the bones of the deceased. How long would they know of this isolation? Would there be a point in escape? Teetering in the labyrinth of his growing insanity, he made a sport of hitting the bones below with the end of his tail. It was the only appendage outside his neck that could shift so freely. His head turned and snapped at the mawrats from time to time, making the creatures keep to their respective homes away from him now.

Setting: Perdition's Hold Azeroth Time - Events of the Third War have come to pass, and those souls lost to the Scourge that did not serve - have come to the Maw.

But as one's imagination grew tired of fabricating scenarios, the unexpected took place. Light slipped into the room somehow. His red eyes squinted to shield his vision from burning in discomfort. But the rose he had grown now was embraced by this light, altering the physiology of his black rose and making it something else entirely.

"Nature will always be beautiful, no matter how it chooses to exist."

A woman's voice filled his cell, followed by the thundering of steps outside his prison. This was no trick of his mind, but his head lowered towards the anima filled flower for closer inspection. There was an ephemeral peace that was inhaled into his senses, before the primal machinations of his darkness took root. His maw gaped over the flower, before fangs clasped down on the remnant soul and drew it back into his throat, fusing her essence with his own greedily. The cavity in his chest, that had been left open by Apathy's hunger - now filled with a new soulkeeper. The chains that had held him began to glow - hoping to siphon the strength he ingested for its bindings to reinforce his captivity.

But the dragon's anger surfaced in full as hell erupted causing his shadows to grow thick and expand in his domain. The steel walls that were braced around him were blown apart by supernatural force as the forces of the Jailer were left to behold his reemergence into the Maw.

Rationalizing the futile attempts made by the Jailer's underlings had never been this amusing to Empyrian. Or maybe it had been, it was a long time since he could recall. And the weird thing about the Maw, was that time did not pass in the way it had on Azeroth. It all felt like it blurred together at this point as the sky never changed. Nor did undeath ever truly stop moving. Which was odd considering how it was viewed in the living.

Details he had forgotten resurfaced, and he found himself pointedly reevaluating his thoughts. Why? An anchor that had been removed was replaced with another. Remorse reared its ugly head yet again, as the soul he devoured pleaded with him over something left unsaid. He didn't understand the reasoning; he just knew their motive was on par with his own to escape. A shake of his skull was made as he ignored the soul's pleas within.

He had refined his allegiance to himself and thus would not be so easily swayed into bargaining with another. Ivoriya's absence was the lesson in that, and he would only rise, no longer would he fall.

(( OOC Acknowledgements: I want to give a shout out to the following individuals for helping me to aspire and write this narrative out. Note: This is not the last part in Empyrian's story. I will continue to add to it as the ideas flow

@sanguinesorceress - Mala, you are an inspiration to the good and bad in all of us. And writing has become a creative outlet for me and so many others again. You were sorely missed, and your return has breathed life into so many people's stories. We've made new friends, discovered new avenues to write our posts, and supported each other so that people could learn of each other's characters. Never forget the blessing you are to us.

@safrona-shadowsun - Saffy, you have given us so much through your art and writing - bringing imagination into shape and giving a meaning not so easily defined by words. Your reputation of good only continues carry into this generation and the next. Never stop being that great person to all! And thank you so much for being the eye in the brainstorm - your ideas are amazing!

@grumpyoldfker - Dirt water is gross, but I'm glad it gives you the energy to deal with me. I know that things have been made hard for all of us, but you have always wanted to be a part of the fold. You stuck with it when life didn't always give you the luxury to do so. And it carries now in the way your characters speak, the adventures you want to embark on, and the relationships you forge. Don't ever be afraid to take the next step - because you have family with you now!

@duraxxor - Patience has never taught someone so well to abide to the feelings of others like it has with you. So many years ago - I met you and we still shoot the shit and splurge on our passions throughout writing. Some days are harder than others, but you still have the means to keep your head held high. Reliable and dependable for your rp partners - you still spin these insane stories of the monsters we could end up becoming - but reflect on the traits that had once made individuals good.

I have plenty more people I want to show my gratitude towards. Though, I think I need to reorganize my thoughts or find a tissue cause there isn't more left in me to add. <3 Have a wonderful New Years all and thanks again for embarking on this journey in the Shadowlands again. I know it's not a desirable place to revisit, but I think justice is going to be found again for some through this retelling of the events there. I just hope you stay with me every step of the way! ))

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Dark Origins: Consequence of Sin - Pt. 2

Setting: Post War of the Ancients Shadowlands: The Maw, Gorgoa - River of Souls

The impact of his fall never came to pass.

Or rather, his consciousness could not register the transition from life into death. Within the blink of an eye the light and color of Azeroth had shifted into a muted black and white. The entirety of his body had become ethereal and incorporeal - discarding the pride and nature of a dragon to instead become a drifting spirit. Aimlessly, his soul was guided by the current of a great river, toiling along countless others as they were swept along with its pull - delving deeper into the Maw's depths.

Mournful cries of anguish and despair could be heard by numerous voices. None of them were aware of the judgement that had been passed to condemn them to this unholy landscape.

It was like being born again, but through the chaos of an infantile mind with no parents to foster understanding or purpose. Centuries of knowledge were upturned in a matter of seconds as the Maw responded only to those who were attuned and knew death in the afterlife.

He could not find a more unsettling place to reside. But it was through his determination of will - that he sought to seize his strength once more. Ethereal arms reflexively stretched downward and sought to anchor against the surging might of Gorgoa. For a brief moment, he felt a possibility against the unknown, only to have it squandered immediately from coalescing resonant misery.

With his tethered lifeline severed, he was forced back into the oppressive sea of the damned. Infected by the negative influence of Gorgoa's bottom feeders, he drifted further and struggled to comprehend a means of salvation. How was it that he could do so much in his life without any effort, to only have it amount to nothing in death?

His head lifted towards the surface where he could make out the shape of a great tower. If there was a place that was unphased by the coursing sea, he knew there would be others. Reinvigorated by his surroundings, he challenged Gorgoa again with the luxury of his perseverance through the painstaking task of maintaining survival instead. He charted this time, his own means of navigation, following along the river's edges until he could find a place where it did not envelope him entirely.

And upon making distance from Gorgoa's reach, he took in a newfound breath - not that it was necessary. Where wonder should have filled his thoughts, he instead sensed and felt utmost dread. This was not a means of rest for souls like the living proclaimed. And any dedication to rationalize its meaning was ignored. For now, the most important thing was to establish understanding. A glance back towards the river's end - he could uncover an answer to his former destination.

Within the body of its obscurities, he barely made out the shape at the end. The river itself seemed to turn in on itself, while the souls were extracted into this creature's custody. Perhaps at one point, the souls would have just been taken into oblivion where the edge of the Maw had existed. But instead, there was one who was responsible to the collecting of all the souls. Unfortunately, no name could be applied as Empyrian turned his focus elsewhere.

A series of jagged rocks that cropped outward along the Maw's ledges were decorated with large metal chains that housed countless souls in steel cages over what could be foreseen as a true end. This place was no sanctuary, but rather a well fabricated prison. Whether it was arrogance or acknowledgement to the fact, he scoffed and noted that everything worked against him. His body which was the first discovery since his arrival, had departed from his soul - leaving him in a permanent state of vulnerability. The next was the environment itself, the river coursed like an actual one, but there was no true means to stand against the tide. A feat he would have easily mustered in Azeroth.

In addition to this epiphany, he noted that he couldn't quite... -feel- in the way he used to. There was no means to make physical contact against something solid and it was more that his essence bled into the landscape and melded with it. Such revelations were astonishing and made him ponder where his strengths now lie.

Inland from where he was positioned, he could see a great fort - adorned in burning braziers and chains. Smoke billowed skyward from various forges that lay beneath jagged rock. And molten lava coursed against the heart of the Maw. It would be amusing to him if the implications were not so dire, but the atmosphere was far colder to guests than offering any means of a warm welcome. There were even deposits of elethium visible in places - which made Empyrian question his lack of connection to the elements in the Shadowlands.

The forces of the realm were not missed either, unmistakable by their darkened armor and various patrols. This was the land they had maintained dominion over. His gaze settled on one of the forges, where he could see a blacksmith bringing a hammer up and relentlessly beating down against a soul and blade. The craft was as primal as he was - seeking to a much more barbaric way of cowing the weak into submission.

His silent appraisal of the situation would be interrupted by none other than a wandering patrol. The rider dismounted from his armored hound and drew closer to the dragon's darkened soul. A spear was readied, just as it was lobbed at the heart of the dragon's mass. Domination runes began to glow along the spear's head - forcing all of Empyrian's body to be pinned at the weapon's edge against the ground.

Inexplicable tightness wound his soul tighter than a ball of yarn, compressing him into himself and blinding him in the shadows that made up essence. A tense few moments passed before he fell his soul torn away from the base of the spear that pinned him. The surface of a rounded orb stared back at him before he was pulled within. But it's transparent and clear surface had become overshadowed by his soul's presence.

The hand that contained his vessel was brought upright for inspection as Empyrian's soul swirled like a hate-filled storm. But like himself, his captor did not perform due diligence when it came to handling this former black dragon. A crack emerged, followed by another and another. The shattering of his soulkeeper breaking sounded as its occupant emerged once more. The shadows stretched outward into a wave of fury before distinction could be impressed upon his assailant.

"DEATH."

Like a water balloon bursting upon impact, the shadows enshrouded his victim from head to toe. Down into the earth he dove, dragging his mass like a tarp over his assailant. His assailant flailed blindly until the compression became too great. One by one his bones folded at the joints until it was grounded into Soul Ash within Empyrian's body. What was left in his wake was just a rounded shadow as Empyrian gradually returned to the surface with a glee he had never experienced.

Such an intimate closeness to his victim warranted all the conditions of his satisfaction to be met. No longer did his soul appear so malleable or exposed. He was now on a level playing field in the Shadowlands.

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Dark Origins: The Old World - Pt. 1

Setting: Some time before the War of Ancients... Seeds were planted so many years ago within the Black Dragonflight. Developing a hunger for vengeance and festering within each dragon, slowly breeding the corruption within their heart and minds. Not all were lulled into dropping their guard to the unknown as they plunged into the earth in search of answers and maintaining Azeroth's defense.

Tilling the dirt so that his body could weasel through, Empyrian surged through mounds of the surface as rumors above had started to trickle down to his flight in the subterranean level. His eyes blinked in an effort to protect the cornea from particles of sediment disrupted by cutting scales. But soon the earth would part overhead as the force of his body rivaled that of a rising mountain. Wings flared out at either side before engulfing the realm in shadow beneath him.

Golden eyes emerged from veiled lids to take in the surrounding area as if the feat he just managed was no trial at all. A forearm shifted forward to demonstrate the authority of his presence, forcing nearby wildlife to flee this newly conquered territory. Not that it was his intention this time.

A shrill but curt roar resounded ahead of him, signaling that his mate had surfaced nearby. Spurred into action by her call, he opened his maw in turn to answer. Aggressive and challenging, his roar demanded further compliance from those that hid from his piercing gaze. It would have been seen as a bold and reckless declaration had he been any other creature on Azeroth for such a challenge. But it seemed as if peace would never contest against his will.

Wings now had fanned out fully while raising in height before sweeping down to effortlessly raise him off the ground. His legs kicked with this motion as the bulk of his mass glided over quickly fleeing trees. Their leaves were stripped from their branches at his passing. His head, large like a great boulder slowly rotated in search of his mate's frame.

Her body towered in a way that his did, but not to the same caliber his frame had. A gradient of black scales that bled into purple colored her entire hide.

Ivoriya was his consort and obsession amongst his hoards. No treasure could compare to her as she was a natural beauty blessed upon Azeroth's surface. His heart thundered with joy as he reunited at her side with a quaking thud of his frame. Claws expertly absorbed the impact and adjusted him so that he could move quickly upon his landing to gaze upon her fully.

His vision trailed over her curves before meeting her own piercing and expectant look. A series of fangs gleamed in mischief as she quickly rose to nip at his neck in affection and adoration. The scent rising from her burned of their passion and carried a hint of their impending clutch as the eggs had recently been laid. Three were gathered into a small crater of magma and molten rock beneath the surface they stood upon.

"Empyrian," His mate stated in greeting. "You only grow when I see you."

Slowly, Ivoriya withdrew her head as eyes-maintained contact all throughout her exchange of playfulness and exaltation of his grace. It caused his jaws to flex with elation before he ignited the furnace within his lungs and expelled breath of fire overhead in offering to his mate.

"Ivoriya," he growled with resplendence enveloping his tone forcing her to lower her guard to his majesty. A forearm drifted upward with purpose before wrapping over the arch of her side and digging his claws along her spiked back to turn her over so that her underbelly would be exposed for his viewing pleasure.

She did not resist his physical command and let her claws drift down towards her crest in pleasure and desire.

"Your words sate my inner fire," she murmured in a low growl. "I know not how we did not yield a finer clutch."

Again, her words sought to make his heart sink, and his head fell forward in a show of support. He was her unyielding strength and an unstoppable force to her doubts.

"Your body is flawless to that of a pristine black diamond. Cast your fears as flames from your mouth and burn such nonsense from your thoughts."

An exhale bristled out of her, forcing a chill to slide down her spikey spine. And also caused her tail to lash out in response to his consolation.

"Of course," she hissed and gradually relaxed within his midst. For a time, they were both silent as the world around them had also become quiet. It warranted suspicion to them both before the massive silhouette of the Dragon Aspect Neltharion himself lunged out from nowhere into the sky.

Ivoriya sought to shift, but Empyrian's arm did not relinquish its hold upon her. They were still for another moment, before Empyrian's possessive grip released and allowed Ivoriya her freedom from him. He understood her response and did not fault her for it, and eventually he would lower his head before nodding faintly to his consort.

Without hesitation she dug down hastily into the ground nearby to ensure their clutch was protected. Empyrian remained resolute in his stance as his body shifted only with slight tensing of his limbs and heat roiling within his chest in anticipation should he need to release a gout of flame towards intruders.

But the tremors beneath his claws suggested otherwise and he would allow the heat within to subside once more. When Ivoriya returned, she shook her head causing the frilled skin along her head to wave freely. Her golden eyes emerged to ease his worries as pheromones of her relief bombarded his senses.

His maw parted to breathe in and exhale another growl of victory to his mate before nudging her with the end of his jaw.

"The Earth Warden moves... so it must be true." His gaze drifted in the direction of Zin'Azshari. ('The Glory of Azshara')

More roars and cries echoed from above the Kaldorei city as many dragon silhouettes filled the sky. Something was happening and the chill that fell upon his scales caused him to take a step forward in anticipation.

"They have need of us," he said to prepare his consort for flight as she reluctantly resigned to his judgment over her own. Again, her head nodded as she fell into step beside him. Her wings would move before his, as he often preferred, she would have his cover this way in the event of an attack. And as soon as she was airborne, he pulled himself into the air behind her.

Land transformed beneath them, turning from nature to that of a sentient and mortal society. Their mountains were hollow compared to their own and lacked luster in place of practical usage.

The sole skill to which he could commend them, was from their sculpting hand that cut marble and stone into mirror images of their beloved Queen Azshara. The pride of her people was within her aura always, whether it be by flesh or refined stone. Empyrian desired such for his own lair someday to protect his children and defend their home by always casting his presence abound.

"Empyrian!" Ivoriya's words broke his concentration as chaos unraveled before them. A dense green flaming stone careened skyward towards them and forced their unified flight to split.

In response, Empyrian would search for the source of his attacker before casting heavy shadows over the buildings beneath him. His descent had him brushing against buildings, which did not prohibit him from leveling them along the earth beneath his claws. Anger had rightfully been dispensed now as he sought direct confrontation with his opponent.

Though, another green fiery stone was cast his way before it hit him squarely in his armored crest. He could feel how the flaming magic sought to strip him of his scaled defenses and would raise a forearm casually to stroke the burning debris from his chest. Impervious to such foolish tricks, he now set his sights again but the moment his gaze fixated he charged.

Again, the buildings fell away from him as the ground quaked from each stampeding step. And when he was upon his foe, he could see the monstrosity they were. An apparition of envy made flesh and twisted by corrupting hatred. Like him, they were winged and possessed claws, but a less than sightly face full of fangs. Their skin was paled from discoloration and harboring the fel within their bodies.

"Foul prey should be dispelled by flame!" He bellowed as heat erupted through his lungs in a show of flames that dwarfed the demon before him seamlessly. Fire continued to roll from his parted maw until he could feel the body of his foe crumple along the ground at his claws. Ivoriya continued to monitor above for additional attackers as Empyrian scoured for evidence to the hostile reception from within the High Elven city.

Months before the place would have been something of fairy tale brimming of promise and fantasy. Now it had become a warzone, and he contemplated the nature of their battle's forthcoming. Neltharion's presence was enough to rally any within their brood to assist. But the lack of foresight on their leader's part was troubling. Or perhaps moreso was the fact they were not made aware of these developments until a few days prior.

It was unmistakable now though, as the threat to the ancient leyline that converged at the Well of Eternity's base was now a point of contention. All forces would seek to rally at the source, and he knew Ivoriya was ill-prepared to deal with the danger. His head rose in anticipation to redirect her as his maw began to open. But the sight that he saw next caused the blood in his veins to boil.

Several dragons hailing from the red, blue, green, and bronze dragonflight converged towards her. Their flight formation had left him stunned, but their assault against his mate put him into an enraged state.

He commanded his mate with a fierce roar to kill and she sought to retaliate against the bronze dragon that had latched onto her front in defiance. The bronze dragon's maw bit harshly over the right side of her shoulder and neck. While this bronze had dwarfed her size, it did not to the extent Empyrian's size had.

Her cries of pain propelled Empyrian to ascend quickly as his maw and claws sought to ground a nearby green and red dragon with his attacks. Skin tore along the sinews of the wing before the red dragon could no longer support his own weight. This forced him to fall with one uninjured wing waving above him uselessly. The collision against the earth below had killed the red on impact as blood colored the ground more than his remaining scales had.

Next came the green dragon, which Empyrian righteously bit down against the throat of this traitorous snake hard. Jaws compressed fiercely as fangs dug through flesh and muscle angrily in a show of lethal spite.

He wanted every breath that green dragon drew to cause pain and make him wish for death over life. His foe scraped with futility against his dense armored hide making Empyrian revel in his superiority in combat.

"May you not live a Dream or be a part of it any longer!" He declared as his claw swept through the underbelly of the emerald dragon. Green skin tore apart from blood-soaked black claws that retreated out of the body. With so many grave injuries, the green dragon lost her will to stay aloft and fell into a newly forming garden of corpses plastered and started by the former red dragon.

However, the blue dragon was smart and had opted to attack Empyrian while his back was turned. A series of arcane missiles barraged him, forcing Empyrian's wings to curl inward while his back arched from the force of the attack. His back hit a building that somehow had the structural support to hold some of his weight from the cascading impact of tyrannical black scale.

Ivoriya's roar called to him in urgency now as the bronze dragon had managed to force her beneath him as they now fell from the sky. His talons had taken hold in places she could not reach, and she collided into the surface of the earth much like his foes had. There were no further cries from her and the scent of her blood was immediate. The pupils within his eyes grew dangerously thin as a charming voice spoke among the countless thoughts that berated his mind.

"Your brood will be culled from weakness."

There was irrefutable truth to this, and Empyrian shifted slowly in agreement to the plan of his false mind. But the blue dragon was a pest and sought to dispatch any further resistance of his kind with another blast of arcane power against Empyrian.

Again, the force of impact shattered the structure beneath him as he barreled towards the surface below. A flash of the bronze swept into Empyrian's view as the ribboning sway of time announced his use of magic. But the black dragon was denied a choice of peace and no matter what foresight this insolent bronze whelp was blessed to have or thought he had was for naught! An ebon scaled arm rotated upon the bronze like a collapsing tunnel, forcing the bulk of Empyrian's weight over the bronze in a show of outright dominance.

"FEEBLE ARE THOSE WHO RELY ON TRICKS TO CONTEND WITH PURE MIGHT!"

The earth, which answered to the call of the earthen elementals and shaman, was reluctant for a moment - before a pillar of rock erected towards the descending bronze dragon. The tip of stone was narrow as it pierced through the bronze dragon's chest and ran through its heart before emerging out the back in a stained crimson. Droplets of blood fell as Empyrian's hunger for revenge cast them away under a strong flap of his wings. His pursuit was none other than the pesky blue dragon now that sought retreat.

Terror was chased behind the blue dragon's retreat as Empyrian surged forward with another fierce flap of his wings. A claw rose forward from beneath Empyrian as he snagged onto the blue dragon's tail to pull him towards his demise. Hundreds of sword length teeth were brought down into the azure dragon's back, before gripping at the joints of both of its wings, squeezing and stripping the bone from its back. A forceful push was given to the blue dragon with one of his clawed feet to accelerate his descent towards death.

But the runes of the blue dragon began to glow as arcane was employed to rescue his rapidly falling body. A rift of magic began to form beneath him as he fell, but just as he reached its center - he fell beyond the veil of forming arcane gateway. And by the time he realized it his body compressed into itself as blood and bone splattered into bits on the ground below Empyrian.

Unbridled rage blinded and drove the massive black dragon before he convened now at the Well of Eternity. He could not see the world in color any longer as a redness clouded his view. Golden eyes had bled into crimson, extinguishing the spark of sanity and housing a hatred so massive that even his own flight lost his trust and fell victim to him.

But there would be no solace found until his own wings betrayed him. Countless wounds had now lined his body, forcing blood to escape at any place scales no longer hid his flesh. He could feel his mind reeling with questions as he fell from the heavens.

...Did he succumb to defeat?

...Or had he run out of dragons and demons to kill?

Promptly after this question was poised, did his cerebral cortex completely fail.

The red in his eyes grew darker now as the light in his surroundings began to turn gray and fell completely still...

[shadowdragonempyrian]

The Maw's Enforcer

[shadowdragonempyrian]

My anima fount

[shadowdragonempyrian]

The whispers of Dissension

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Reliquary for a Dream - Copperless Thoughts

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Always turn a blind eye, when there's no eye to be had.

[shadowdragonempyrian]

The Maw's first Victim

[shadowdragonempyrian]

The Hell has Red Eyes and Ivory Peaks

[shadowdragonempyrian]

The Mawsworn Avenger

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Stygia - the currency of the damned

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Succumb to thy Dark, Black and Unrelenting Soulflame