#bloodshaper

[septi-art]

BLOOD IN THE SHAPE OF FLESH IN THE SHAPE OF MEAT IN THE SHAPE OF BLOOD IN THE SHAPE OF ME IN THE SHAPE OF YOU

[razxion]

Alexander, the Bloodshaper

Music: Who Will Save Us Now by David Chappell

“Hey, Alex.” “Yes, Rai?” “Can I ask you something?” “Of course.  You know I'm here for you.”

As you faced the hordes of undead, you found yourself in a position with a choice: retreat with the others and take the risk of being ambushed; or break off and distract them so the others would have a safer chance of survival.  You, once a great paladin, gave your wife the last kiss you were to ever share, and your last loving breath in the teary and haste filled embrace of your twin. You, Alexander, prayed to your precious Light and it listened.  You were granted wings that blazed with the same determined fury you held in your heart.  And you soared.  A distraction you were, once paladin of the Light, and as the life faded from your eyes the others did indeed survive.

“... What was it like?” “What are you referring to?” “What we haven't really discussed before.” “... My time apart from you?”

Risen into the ranks of those you sacrificed yourself against, you fight your former order, your former people, within the merciless cold of a continent too bitter to hold life, but perfect for the dead.  You now wield blood, shadows, and frost in place of the Light you once held so dear to your heart. You slaughtered numerous foes, Alexander.  You focused your might on those that had dared to expel the ones that fought beside you; and one in turn focused on you.  You were split from your then allies to fight against this foe whose own ferocity matched yours.  It was a stalemate as you both continued to battle, but it was broken with a simple slap across your face and the realization of who you were fighting against. He found you, Alexander.  He cried tears of joy when you finally realized who you were, and who he was; your twin.

“Part of it, yes.” “Which part?”

You watched over him as he fought, and as he trained.  You used your magical talent to ensure he would not feel the full force of the attacks that broke his defenses.  You wove the blood, his blood within your control to heal his wounds as he taught another.  With your speed he, nor she, realized his ear had been hit as you had healed it too quick for their eyes to catch, or his body to register what had occurred. You felt it though, Alexander.  You felt every hit on your twin; every injury that was done onto him was then done onto you.  You sacrificed your body, your life once before and you continue to do just that, for him.

“Well…Your hair and eyes changed… And you're drinking more blood from me lately.  I’m curious, and worried, if more is going to happen.”

Opportunities to use your blood magic to heal came more often.  You enjoyed it.  Healing not only your twin but your friends was something more to do than training and fighting, and you were getting better at it.  But using it comes at a price, does it not? More healing.  More magic.  More blood.  You fixed what bones were broken, and made new bone within him to do just that.  You moved his blood, undid the bruising.  But there was more.  All the blood around you, all the use of your magic, had begun to pull on something.  A desire, a need, to feed more on what you used to heal.

“I'm sorry, Rai.  My only current thought is that, due to my more consistent use of blood magic lately, it’s starting to shift my needs.” “But your hair, and your eyes- “

Your body, your corpse, was changing, but you could not admit this without seeing it with your own eyes, could you?  You went to a mirror, one you knew was not enchanted, to see for yourself. They were right you know.  Why would they have lied, to you?  The light blue of your dead hair had brightened to resemble freshly fallen snow.  The frosty cold of your eyes were obvious in their change as now a blood red marbled within.  You had more pronounced fangs now, Alexander.  The frost could no longer hide the blood you were able to wield from other’s eyes.

“Increased power and a vampiric affliction.  That’s why those are changing.” “Vampiric... the San’layn were that, were they not?  Did they bite you?  Isn’t that how you turn?” “I can’t remember all of it, or maybe, I refused to make it a memory.” “What can you remember?”

A simple task, to ensure the axe you and your friends had made would be able to pass the test that the commissioner set.  But you did not expect where this test would take place, did you Alexander?  To the gates of Icecrown Citadel you went, along with Aestus and Tyleril nearby.  The memories had flooded your mind, and the past you, the heartless you, had started to show. You watched as the test had started, and you did as you were asked to do.  Channel your death, your corruption, and your hate.  You were to fuel the axe.  The memories, the feelings, the thoughts, all of these things that you had pushed down and away swirled to the front of your mind just as the blood, shadows and frost came to your fingertips.  They whirled around the woman whom this axe was made for and the test, in the end, was a success.

“… The cold, the blood, and the bodies of those rejected that were to be used for…other things.”

It was just a simple duel Aestus had asked of you.  To see what you could do and compare it to your twin.  He should have been prepared for what he was to see, should he not have?  He watched you manipulate the blood you controlled into weapons, and as you merged blood with steel he then watched not only in fascination, but in horror.  Your concentration was broken, you lost control of your blood weapon, and your back hit the ground hard from his assault.  As you stared up at the sky, you realized you had been injured, but he was too. Did you ever put yourself first in your thoughts, once paladin?  You healed him as your arm dangled, unable to move.  You had healed yourself later, but in doing so you had a need.  Your twin grew pale as you fed, as you drained his blood he laid on the bed, unwilling to stop you.  It took the one that loves you both to stop you from injuring your twin.  And then you fed on him.

“I’m sorry, Alex.  I wish I could have grabbed your body before this all happened to you.” “It’s alright, Rai.  I’m surrounded by those I love, that too love me.  I’ll protect you, and the family we’ve made…as well as the family we’ve found.”

You reacted just as you would have, were you still alive, Alexander.  Your heart, though it does not beat, still knows loves.  You shielded that young boy the best you could from the nightmare that had awakened within your friend.  His nightmare was that of the war you both fought in, and you who had been on both sides, were the target of his holy wrath. Your. Body. Burned.  You used your blood to shield yourself and the young boy, but it was not enough to save you from becoming injured.  Samiel had called for his father, his indestructible father, as he had used his magic to shock your friend back to reality.  Charred, dead flesh, could be smelt from any who went near you as your body lied on the ground.  You begged, pleaded, for the boy’s father to understand it was your own fault, but it would not be heard.

“I’ll do everything I can too, to protect you however I can.  The San’layn though, they weren’t really pardoned…” “I am not fully a San’layn, but even a hint of it and I believe others would wish me gone.  Take this secret to your grave, brother, as it has become mine.”

@thesunguardmg​

[apathetic-theme-song]

just going through an expression meme because i do same-face syndrome a lot

ft. bloodshaper and some blushing that accidentally got turned red because of lineart issues rip

[jonathan-nevermore-smith]

Cuts

Author’s note: This piece talks about cutting and blood in small detail.  

“Bleed yourself daily, for a week.  Enough to fill cupped palms.”

The first cut was excruciating.  It was trepidatious; It would be a turning point.  She never backed out of something, even when failure was imminent and she might lose everything.  Every time she’d left the Cursed Revenge, she’d seen it through until she ended back up on it’s decks.  Her time spent whoring had been until she’d paid off her debts.  And her time with the State had been until something greater demanded her attention.  Not two weeks ago, she had died while helping the Cabal.  

“You will learn as I did.  We will See if it will take.”

She held her arm over the crystal bowl, letting her lifeblood well and run in rivulets down her skin until it plopped wetly against the clear bottom.  Another and another followed suit, until it was a steady stream of crimson, drizzling down to well and fill the valleys and rises of the crystal.  As the bottom was covered her hand came to press at the wound, ceasing it’s flow.  That was enough for the day.  

The second cut was lower, still on the outside of her arm, but surer; A previous scar marked her first steps.  Like a baby learning to walk her knife tore into the skin, leaving the cut jagged and uneven as it raced to cover the distance.  But cover it the knife did, and while it left the skin ragged it bled true in a steady stream.  

“I became this,” Velahara gestured to herself, reddish pink tattoos clashing against the pale blue light of Dalaran, “I think I can take whatever the Observer can throw at me.”

She could walk this path.  After all that she had been though, she could-no, she would see this through.  And she would not leave empty handed like so many times before.  There would be no failure this time.

The third cut was practiced.  Two days, and her confidence grew as the motion became more precise.  It bled immediately, the sticky liquid losing cohesion as it welled through the cut and across her skin.  Closer to the inside of her arm, but still very much free of any real danger.   “You are very arrogant; your head and heart high for one beseeching learning.” There would be no stopping her.  She had sacrificed everything to become what she was; her sister could never really know her, her mother could never call her daughter again, her brother would continue his fight alone.  For all that she stood to gain, she had paid a terrible cost without seeing any returns.  All she had was confidence and hope, for there was no going back.  

The fourth cut was determined.  The knife fell and rose in a single motion, her form nearing perfection.  When she had to bleed herself for others, she would be ready.  A steady stream filled the bowl; No longer was she just trying to reach the minimum, she was exceeding it without issue.  She was ready.  A few more days.

“Nothing is off limits to any of you, is it?”

“There are limits, dear.  But one must explore every  avenue to know them.”

“You are a stranger to all we have seen and done.  Your world is small.”

She would learn how small her world was.  The Light and Teeth had already shown her something she could never Unsee.  Death had become an experience instead of a fear.  The Legion had changed from something that was best avoided to something that could be overcome.  When the scary had become an inconvenience, enlightenment opened it’s doors.  

The fifth cut was disciplined.  There was no hesitation, only the rote actions of cut and bleed.  She was cutting along the inside of her arm, the blood ready and waiting to be spilled.  It knew it’s calling, it’s purpose; It Knew the Way.  There was no question of if she could bleed enough, only a question of when should she stop.  It seemed a trivial task to fill the entire bowl, something she wanted to do if only to prove herself to the Observer.  ‘Best to wait, to save that for when it became necessary.’ she thought to herself.

“We don’t want -just enough-, darling.  We expect your -all-.”

The knife hovered over her arm for the sixth.  Had she been so determined that she was willing to throw herself into this without thought? In a short five days, she had turned from determined but cautious into recklessly considering emptying her veins here and now.  Wasn’t it enough that she had corrupted her soul in the pursuit of this power? Now she would have to ruin her body as well? What else would she be willing to give up without any thought for the future?

“There is a difference between arrogance and determination, Observer.”

“Not in one so untested.”

The seventh cut was excruciating.  It was trepidatious; It would be a turning point.  To think before she acted, to weigh the consequences before proceeding, to think of what the costs might be.  She may have never backed down, but that didn’t mean she had to rush forward blindly.  The blood ran true, enough to fill the bottom of the ridges and swells of the crystal bowl.  If this was meant to be her lesson, then the next one might very well be as bad as the Observer had said.

“There are pains worse than death, my darling.  Oh, to have such innocence.”

@she-wants-the-d20 @stormandozone for mentions

[ruined-shaper]

war - @the-storm-chaser

War is a reality Faris has been forced to accept in his time. Wars of prejudice and power were the foundation of his home, the deaths of the old giving way to new, albeit stranger methods. This new focus took the form of “Bloodshaping”, the act of engineering the body a soul will then inhabit, often turning their forms monstrous in nature.

The neighboring tribes that remained and expanded in further lands during his time, the Henj, saw this act as blasphemy against the spirits will. And so began a war of culture and belief. As ancient and well-armed as Balakhan was, it was no match for the weight of the rest of the world to hold back. And so they fell, and Faris, overcome by the tragedies that took place, fell into a deep, thought-to-be endless slumber. In his rest, ruin came, wiping the memories and discoveries of his home from the face of the earth.

After all that time, almost 2000 years later, the Dawngate was opened, and Ruin would follow. Faris, now aware of was has befallen his world, swore to uphold and protect what life took place now to guard the future. Another war to begin, one of preservation versus devastation.

To summarize, as Faris understands now: War breeds War, and Wars to follow those Wars, and more unto those, until there is nothing left to War over.

@the-storm-chaser

[transmogwow]

Drizela - Turalyon (us) head: Nemesis Skullcap neck: Heart of Azeroth shoulder: Shadow Council's Mantle back: Diabolic Shroud chest: Nemesis Robes wrist: Dreadspinner Cuffs hands: Relentless Gladiator's Felweave Handguards waist: Plaguebringer's Cord legs: Grim Inquisitor's Leggings feet: Nemesis Boots finger1: Ring of the Infinite Void finger2: Footbomb Championship Ring trinket1: Ancient Knot of Wisdom trinket2: Vigilant's Bloodshaper mainHand: Scepter of Sargeras

[apathetic-theme-song]

“but m, that’s not what DK armor looks like”

i dunno what to tell you, bud, but i’m not that dedicated

[apathetic-theme-song]

at this point, i’m drawing an AU of an OC more than I’m drawing the OC himself...

[apathetic-theme-song]

when AUs of your character are more fun to draw than your actual character

[ruined-shaper]

!!

Mani Varus: The same race as Mani Rhaast, therefore Bloodshaped. Seems at odds with himself at all times; likely schizophrenic, possibly psychotic. Counselling sessions to begin immediately.

Warning: Multiple Souls possible. Potential of Spirit Inheritance increased to “Absolute”. Key Spiritual entities: Corruption, Hostility.

@ex-retributionem

[ruined-shaper]

>> Spirit of (X) ??? Either Blitzcrank or Viktor. I’m interested!!

Viktor, Spirit of Assimilation

Once a student of Petrus, sharing a class with many of his finest pupils, Viktor looked to become one of the greatest shapers of his time. Youthful, innovative, and with a willpower unrivalled by anyone in Maridia, he pressed on without abatement in his studies.

However, beneath this studious mind was a terrible truth: Viktor felt incomplete. Intelligence was fantastic, certainly.

But he was not as wise as the northern Warlords, and would not fight wars or politics.

But he was not as insightful as the south, ever improving their enjoyment of life and appreciation of the arts.

But he was not as sculpted as the bloodshaped people of the east, forever bound to a dying, weak human body.

So he looked to cure this. All of this. To become better. Perfect.

Then the Dawngate opened.

He found himself in Petrus' laboratory, overlooking the Vitality Experiments, or "V.EX" with awe, and jealousy. Such wonders contained within; spirits varying in all sorts of methods and powers.

He wished to have them all, but Viktor's form was not good enough yet. He was not strong enough to bend their wills to his own... so he had to settle. An orange spirit in the corner, conscripted within a stone arm labeled as "Progress:Maestre Petrus".

Excellent... he would have his tutor's power at his fingertips... an unstoppable for progress...

He reached out to umlock the cage, but heard a voice. A soft one. A goading one.

His voice, speaking from his mouth.

"More."

Viktor halted, snapping to a black, steel container in the furthest corner of the lab.

A key to his improvement.

All would bend the knee to this power... eventually.

Boasting skin of strange, living steel; The Shaper of Assimilation seeks to claim all that is his. To evolve humanity to an apex achievable only by him. True, glorious evolution.

Allies: Desecrator (A clever assistant, matches my goals)

Friends: Faris (He knows much, and I will have it.), Viyana (Purity at its finest... a perfect specimen)

Enemies: Petrus (A false idol for progress), Vex (A failure that I will correct), Marah (A herald of useless flesh)

@metalvsflesh

//A rough draft, but I believe the point was made.

[transmogwow]

Валькирея - Borean Tundra (eu) head: Hat of the Second Sister neck: Heart of Azeroth shoulder: Hidden Shoulder back: Plasma-Spattered Greatcloak chest: Honorbound Artificer's Robes wrist: Honorbound Artificer's Cuffs hands: Hidden Gloves waist: Honorbound Artificer's Cord legs: Honorbound Artificer's Legwraps feet: Honorbound Artificer's Sandals finger1: Gnarled Mood Ring finger2: Golden Empire Signet trinket1: Vigilant's Bloodshaper trinket2: Emblem of Zandalar mainHand: Scepter of Sargeras offHand: Solena's Watchful Collection

[transmogwow]

Rôciô - Dun Modr (eu) head: Vile Manipulator's Hood neck: Heart of Azeroth shoulder: Vile Manipulator's Mantle back: Hidden Cloak chest: Robes of Lightning wrist: Sirensong Wraps hands: Twisted Sisters Handwraps waist: Felsoul Cord legs: Bloodstained Sous Chef Pants feet: Vindicator's Dreadweave Stalkers finger1: Band of Multi-Sided Strikes finger2: Footbomb Championship Ring trinket1: Sea Giant's Tidestone trinket2: Vigilant's Bloodshaper mainHand: Iron Horde Ritual Staff

[transmogwow]

Jimmity - Area 52 (us) head: Red Pointy Hat neck: Heart of Azeroth shoulder: Notorious Gladiator's Silk Mantle back: Parrotfeather Cloak chest: Notorious Gladiator's Silk Robe shirt: Blue Lumberjack Shirt wrist: Bracers of the Chosen Dead hands: Notorious Gladiator's Silk Gloves waist: Cephalopod's Sash legs: Pantaloons of the Chosen Dead feet: Sandals of the Chosen Dead finger1: Loop of Pulsing Veins finger2: Ritual Binder's Ring trinket1: Conch of Dark Whispers trinket2: Vigilant's Bloodshaper mainHand: Spider Frier offHand: Kobold Candle

[transmogwow]

Ligress - Eitrigg (us) head: Hidden Helm neck: Heart of Azeroth shoulder: Hidden Shoulder back: Hidden Cloak chest: Shadra Silk Robes wrist: Moonpriest's Cuffs hands: Hidden Gloves waist: Foreman's Sash legs: Wild Pyromancer's Trousers feet: Volatile Walkers finger1: Stonemason's Guild Band finger2: Band of Multi-Sided Strikes trinket1: Vigilant's Bloodshaper trinket2: Kaja-fied Banana mainHand: Admiral Taylor's Cutlass offHand: Deep Core Lantern

[transmogwow]

Ginky - Mal'Ganis (us) head: Shadra Silk Headband neck: Heart of Azeroth shoulder: Fen Spirit Mantle back: Hidden Cloak chest: Corsair's Overshirt wrist: Cruel Gladiator's Satin Bracers hands: Honorbound Artificer's Mitts waist: Hidden Belt legs: Red Silk Trousers feet: Astonishingly Scarlet Slippers finger1: Band of Intense Gravitation finger2: Murky Cerulean Signet trinket1: Vigilant's Bloodshaper trinket2: Dread Gladiator's Insignia mainHand: Ceremonial Warmaul Blood-Blade offHand: Grayson's Torch