thecrimsonlights

[thecrimsonlights]

The Archeologist and the Stone

Baubles, trinkets, call them whatever one would like they were still motivations and tools for use when needed. She knew that almost better than most at times. If one put enough focus in a rock, suddenly it becomes of value and worth something to the right people. This was at least the concept the archeologist debated over the last few days. Often finding herself looking over supposed relics brought to her by the desperate and money hungry, find in their value to be less or even not worth her time for some shiny black pebbles.

“One hundred percent authentic from the days of the Black Empire my perfectly shaped ass.” She exclaimed one of those days to which her other contacts fell through on the haul. Oh how she wished more of them could be like him. The Malache boy and his crew came through for her at least once. Pity family issues and just general fuckery got in the way of their business. Still she was patient. She could wait for the bullshit could be finished with. Swiveling in the chair she sat upon her mind wandered elsewhere for a brief time.

“I suppose there is no real other choice then. Keep with this status quo or do a little high risk, potentially high reward. Yet does it further the goals in mind? Does the wheels continue to turn or does it all grind to a halt and fall apart?” She mused lightly weaving her fingers together, hands resting just below the collarbone. “What indeed…. “ Her gaze wandered a bit to the stone narrowing her vision as if it would make a damn bit of difference to the object. “Yet, here I am sitting alone talking to whatever in the void of space listens to me.” Again her eyes drifted away from the stone at the long list of things still needing to find. The half translated scrolls and etched stones covered in parchments scribbled with ‘the translation is wrong’ across the surface. Oriandra Sol’fuer leaned forward to rest her elbows upon her knees. A gentle flare of power flickered at the corners of her eyes as she stared down a wicked looking scythe.

‘Hehehe is dis be all yah got? If yah be givin’ up dis soon den all dis be for nuthin’... mate.’

She swatted the ghostly voice away as an annoyance to her state of mind. Even if it had a ring of truth to it the reality was on she denounced with vigor. Pulling her chair back into o the desk she placed quill to parchment and wrote;

Dearest Flaxin,

I do apologize for remaining so out of contact. My work traveling back and forth from Argus to Azeroth has taken a bit of toll. Nothing major just think of it as a bit of travel lag due to distance. Though I feel like more time has passed on Argus then on our home world. I wish I had the study to research such a thing. But my study into the Void has doubled since being granted access to Mac’Aree.

And hearing the account of adventurers about the infamous Alleria Windrunner is fascinating to say the least. I do hope she will allow me to at least examine her once for the purposes of my study. My only worry is what she thinks of the elves that took the risk and are now tainted by the Fel and our breaking from the Alliance. That is of course I can find someone on the Alliance willing to share data with me. I don’t suppose you have heard of anyone in your travels?

Alas I must depart I am bearing capability to begin some deep sea explorations for a missing sword that needs to be sealed. If my sources are correct I should have my hands on it in days.

Best Wishes, Oriandra

[thecrimsonlights]

[Cultist-RP] Dreams of the future.

[thecrimsonlights]

Earthshapers’ forge

This is how I could picture her forge and work shop looking. It’s location probably carved within some deep mountain side a few things would look less refine like the walls since they would be made of natural stone. But the idea of a face for where the fires where lit would be something to see. image source (xavor85.deviantart.com)

[thecrimsonlights]

[RP-Story] Echo’s of the Past

Fingers tipped against one another, starting with the pinkie to the thumb. Hands mirrored their movements as if they held a glass between them. This was a dance, no a ritual between them one that started slowly like sizing up the prey as it’s cornered. All that was left was for the other to give up and relinquish this power between them. The Red Queen normally caved first, the White Queen a terrifying dominator in their game. Tonight the game was different, they tested boundaries like no other before. Where once soft hands trembled in excitement, now found themselves calloused and damaged by time.

The sounds of giggling penetrated the ears of one of them bringing them back simpler times. Red canyons and the ominous door that loomed over the encampments. Cups of warm drink shared between the pairs of hands as they sat back to begin watching and waiting. Words could not be remembered that started the soft giggling but at least one smiled in that moment; “You think it’s funny??” The blonde asked finishing the braid to be left over her shoulder. Reaching down to the rock behind her she picked up the tin mug and sniffed the contents before siping. The slightly elongated eyebrow arched a moment as her ears lowered. “Well?” “No… no it’s not that…” The redhead replied trying to contain her laughter. Even for such warm colored sand and rocks a bitter wind rustled across the landscapes causing the woman to move closer to the Knight for warmth. “I just think… your expression isn't’ that of most of the Blood Knights I’ve met that is all. You don't’ have their sharp looks and grouchy expressions.” She smiled and to the blonde it looked like the rays of the sun, warm and inviting.

Leaning over the Knight brought her face closer to examine the Priestess beside her, “I’m plenty grouchy, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.” For her efforts she found herself being pinched on the cheeks by the other woman. Blinking in surprise she couldn’t help but grin slightly, her resolve melted by the priestess’s touch and tender nature. Closing her eyes she moved in to close the gap between them finding their lips brushed against the others. For all the hesitation in mind the action was reciprocated as the Priestess let go of the cheek and returned the kiss tenderly, warmly as the other would describe. The redhead smiled as they parted resting her forehead against the others but being mindful of the head gear, “Why do you keep doing this Lymia?” “What kiss you? You keep taunting me by being so sweet Astallia. Thank you for the Coffee, by the way.” The giggled rose in her throat once more as she leaned against the other’s leg. “You are very welcomed… you’ve been here on this rock for hours for guard duty. I figured it would help keep you awake.” A sound similar to a ‘hmm’ was heard from Lymia’s throat as she drank more of the coffee for a moment then teased, “You could stand naked in that gift I got you across the way to keep me awake too…” She smirked wide as the other blushed, lightly smacking her hand against the red armor she wore. “Lym~~ia. You are terrible. Please tell me you didn’t bring it. Besides too many eyes both Horde and Alliance. I’m not going to show that off for all of them too.” Astallia complained softly still embarrassed it was brought up to begin with. “Kar’shen said we’ll be crossing the portal soon. Kala’dra already has the supplies ready with Kulena, and Faitima has the orders from the commanders.” Reaching over with a free hand Lymia lightly rubbed her lover's backside looking towards at the encampments narrowing her gaze to see if the Alliance was acting up again. “Nervous at all? We don’t know what will be waiting for us in Outland. It’s been months since we heard any news from the last set of Elves that went across.. Least those loyal to the Prince.” “A bit.. But I think Faitima is more nervous… her husband was part of the first few waves across. I think she’s just worried about finding his corpse or worse.” Astallia confessed watching her lovers hawk like gaze scan the area. “But I’ll be with you so I don't’ care.” Lymia frowned for a moment, “You should care. We might not come home.” Touching her heart a moment she reached up grabbing the other womans braid to pull her closer. “My home is where you are…” she whispered before kissing the Blood Knight’s lips once more.

~~~

Time changes all things, yet the pair continued their dance, fingers touched scars from battles, burn marks from dangers unspeakable at that moment. The runic tattoos, shape of their muscles on both sides. Neither were soft to the touch anymore. Yet like unfading memories they could remember the time when one’s touch caused the other to feel warmed like the kiss of the sun. Now it was like a bitter ash, a reminder of life that was robbed unjustly. Time had robbed them both of opportunity, reason, and forgiveness. Even now one could remember the blood curdling screams of a star filled night in an unfamiliar sky.

~~~

The demon cackled watching the first of two armored fall to their back. His words falling on deaf ears as the Troll brought the long blade across his leg, forcing the monster to his knee. It let out the guttural cries of it’s own spell casting causing the armored Knight to thrash wildly and seemingly attempt to rip out her own midsection. Mauled by the druids claws and beaten by the axes of the elemental wielding orc, what the demon feared was the slender elf who casted enchantments in his language. It looked down at its own midsection seeing that his stomach caved in with a sickening crunch. It laughed coldly, swearing to the faces that watched that it would not be the last they saw of him. “Hold her!” screamed the dark robed woman as she looked upon the stone in hand. Frowning for a moment she pocketed the object within her robes turning her attention towards those attempting to restrain the thrashing paladin. “I said hold her and get her out of her armor quick!” “Nah like we ain’ be try’in witch…” The troll huffed attempting to grab the other woman's’ fist. “She be thrashin’ too much in pain.” The so called witch nodded understandingly as the three heavy hitters went to task restraining their friend and teammate. Turning swiftly she grabbed the priestess before she reached, “Shh steel yourself little dove.” The woman thrashed in her arms as she held her still. “ Remember your training you need to see what the injuries are first… try to calm her if you can so we can get to work.” Astallia looked at the older blood elf then nodded before going over. Shivering she watched as the Shaman eventually removed the breastplate and belt of the Paladin. The now restrained blonde wouldn’t stop screaming, and it was clear to her eyes. Scorched was the once smooth pale skin, now bubbling in sickening hues of greens and near black with the chaotic decay of flesh. It took much for her not to faint from the burning smell of flesh. It smoldered and continued so. The Orc looked up setting aside the ruined armor and prepared the correct Totems at her side to aid in the ritual of healing. She knew these wounds well enough having seen enough damage caused by Warlocks of the old Horde. Thralls reign is different she found need to remind herself as she looked for the correct herbs and pouches. Blinking seeing a flower sprout beside her, the female orc looked up at the hulking figure now standing up. The druidess nodded using vines to help hold her ally still. Giving the Troll a moment to remove other bits of armor that was damaged beyond simple repair. “We will need to go to Shattrath.” She stated simply. “Once we can get her to stop screaming.” Her dark eyes scanned around noticing the dark robed elf had taken point to ensure no one interrupted them, “Let us work quick.”

~~~

Silence is the golden bell in the aftermath, be it by way of leather to flesh, the stiffness in one’s own arms in the wake of release. Or even in the subtle creaks of shifted weights upon that which was meant to support their weight. What matters in the silence is the care. Scented ointments that filled the nostrils of the other, reminding them that the games they played where out of love and trust, not the need to inflict pain upon the other. The Red Queen prefered the scent of lilacs while the Queen of White prefered the more masked scent of jasmine in the end. Even when one could not see due to games it was clear that this was whom they trusted. The sweet smell that followed also brought back memories of the deep sense of loss. A cold and harsh reminder that time would always be a factor between them. Their loss, their pain, it would be what made at least one of them who they are today.

~~~

First to truly fall would be the Troll. Died when trapped within a spell by a demon they attempted to bind at her own insistence. The paladin could never understood why, still it was done and failed. In her eyes they should have aborted but despite being a backbone to the group her opinions and thoughts on the matter was outweighed by the Witch. Whom never seemed to show any care towards the death, always spoke in hushed tones to the others but her. If they blamed her, she didn’t care. Her insides still smoldered despite the recovery of being healed. It was enough to drive her to madness at times but she kept the smile for the light of her life. The moments they held one another in their arms was enough to push the thoughts from the back of her mind. It would all happen to fast for her, resting at the camp in the night skies of the Netherstorm as it was dubbed. It wasn’t until the bear across from her shifted from her sleep and looked up sharply that the Paladin was roused. The blankets and bedding beside her empty since the first time in their travels. The Witch no where in view and the ghostly form of the Shaman’s own wolf like body already in full run towards the direction of the lights. By the time they all arrived it was over. The Witch crushed the demon in half and the Priestess laid prone at her feet. Unmoving, not breathing. The robes she wore slightly smoldered to ash with the heavy scent of fel in the already magic ravaged surroundings. No one could remember the words screamed that day. All of them tried to revive the priestess. All of them flailed. The Witch gave barely any response to what happened other than;

“She … got in they way of the spell.”

It was there amongst the purple crumbling rocks they had to leave her. Taking what they could to do a proper funeral in Shattrath. Against the wishes of the grieving paladin. Against what felt like better judgement. Taking what little they could of her to return home, finish what part of their war that they could. Once again the Witch showing nothing towards the Priestess’ death, not even the remote condolences towards her grieving loved one. The paladin remained in Shattrath both to grieve and recover. Returning to Quel’thalas despite the events on Quel’danas seemed inappropriate in her mind. It wasn't’ until the scourge appeared in the Outlands that some spark of any other emotion was shown. To her those days followed became a blur. Stone faced and silent any team she joined, she made no attempt to know. No attempt to bond. Her rage came out against the undead, much as it did the demons she used everything she learned from Outlands to ensure they -stayed- dead. As the Campaign against the Lich King pushed his forces back towards the hellish spire that jutted out from ice and snow, the paladin found herself drifting towards the Stormpeaks. Word of an Ancient terror caught wind to her attention and she went. In darkened halls she walked alone at some point separated by those she aided.  Dark save for the glittering of lights above that mimicked an endless sea of stars. It was then she heard a voice, perhaps not a true voice but more of a choir. Yet one voice stood out amongst the rest, like a sweet lullabye she once heard in memories long forgotten.

When the blazing sun is gone, When the nothing shines upon,

Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night….

Lymia felt her hand along the wall lowering all weapons and shields towards the melodic sounds of the choir. Her eyes more relaxed than it had in months. Ulduar was fascinating. All the fighting above her had long grown silent, the defenses that had seemingly tried to keep all out and away no longer did so for her. She briefly thought about how she would have loved for another to see this. Only to remind herself of her loved one's passing, the burning sting of tears splattered her cheeks. Her pace faltered as it opened to a much larger chamber eerily filled by different lights with no true source, yet none bright enough to truly give much view of the chamber. Still the unseen choir’s voice rose up from within the darkness.

Then the traveler in the dark, Thanks you for your little spark,

He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so…..

The air around her filled with a chill that should not be possible past the layers of her armor. Yet she found the edge of the shimmering pool and looked within. Kneeling she realised her thirst as if it had been the first time in ages, nearly centuries. She drank carefully finding her mind a buzz and her own voice joining a strange choir as all of her vision went to black. Walking felt different, talking felt different. It was like being out of her own body and yet being able to speak for it all in one go. The haze lasted for a while, the song occasionally echoing in her mind. Humming it while no one else was around, singing it in the moments beneath the stars. It broke eventually, the day the lands quaked with some unexplained tremble. Eyes that were once almost glazed over saw with clarity, the dark shape that blotted out the sun but for a moment. The raw power felt in that moment brought her to her knees once more. And for once in nearly a year, she smiled before covering her eyes and laughing as the Dragon known to the world as Deathwing continued his flight of madness across Azeroth’s landscape.

*

music for last bit here.

[thecrimsonlights]

[Rp-Story] Fel Storm

First Day of the Legion Invasions- He said it didn't matter if that hive fell. In her mind the fall of minor hives meant having to rebuild. Rebuilding took effort and manpower she was not willing to part with yet. Yet. Still rebuilding gave a chance to strengthen and fix what became brittle over use. And odd sense of duality with this thought pattern. The Earthshaper leaned out from the pillar she stood upon and fell. Her arms reached forward as if grabbing the ground before her. The ground rapidly approaching as she pulled her arms into her chest yanking sand, dirt, and rock at her form.

The momentary darkness gave way to twilight painted skies and stars trying to push their way out from behind clouds. She ascended rather than the continued fall towards the now darker sands of Silithus. The stone wings though heavy lifted her higher, it was still a majesty of its own to witness in her eyes. Having learned the motion studying the flesh and scaled kind, now flight was a feat she could do too. It was normal to be flanked by her ‘children’, drakes hatched by her watch when other broodmothers were left dead by their enemies.  

Her eyes narrowed as the smell of fire filled her stone nostrils, and a sharp pain all but punched her in the gut. The Earthshaper hadn't felt that pain in a long time, too long as she saw the cliff ledges of Un'goro pass beneath her. Changing her glide she continued on towards the hives only spotting a few claiming smaller eggs for their raptors. An agreement and deal made with a local troll who made sure her hands gained profit for the use of the hive to hunt in. Regardless the hive was not the one on fire. She could still smell it, her vision obscured by the sandstorm that whipped the landscapes of Tanaris. The ache within still burned that old familiar sting, and the scent of fire still cut it’s way across the sandstorm. Civilizations burn. She commented within her own dark thoughts. Turning the stone bulk of a form towards Gadgetzan the Earthshaper took to a higher altitude for better vision. It wasn't the flames that caught her attention but the skies, the smoke and its tinted color, but mainly it was the otherworldly metals that formed the massive ship before her gaze. Fel as the source of the flames and smoke. Heating the stone around her, the former light wielder sent sharpen stones and descended quickly towards the earth. All that was left where the wings to slow her fall. She pegged demons out of the skies as she descended, until they swarmed ripping the stone from her wings. She fell and they did not attack, why bother when she would seemingly fall to her death.

The Earthshaper looked up at the sky and saw the swirls of clouds. She would not look at the ground the Gods would not accept this death today. Her eyes narrowed seeing a figure dart between the demons the bat like wings that would appear then disappear. She readied her blade then braced for her landing, aiming the great sword down upon the backside of a nearly oversized fel-guard. The beast howled out from the cleaving falling forward with the female elf standing on it’s bloody back. She saw the Horde and Alliance fighting and struggling against the invasion but she did not envy them. ‘This would bode ill if we lost here… though I am loathed to aid them…’ Turning she beheaded another smaller demon that ran up towards her. A slight head tilt as she did not recognize the beast, but she knew the shape of Draenei. Her dance would continue outside the City, she prefered it that way.

However that bat like figure from earlier was drawing slowly closer. Despite the nauseating smell of Fel in the air the Cultist kept her wits about her as she cut the heads off some of those annoying fel-hounds. What did slow her was that pang of burning pain from with inside of her. The dull ache found itself all but sharp and rage filled. ‘That creature? Was that the source?’ she wondered before the next spike of pain ravaged her form. Her howl of pain was drowned out by the demonic laughter from nearby. Shakingly she turned to see the demon she had believed was dead in Outland. In one hand an orb of Fel that was being used to reignite the embers that were left within her stomach, in the other a spear now aimed to finish her off. Pain or not she challenged the attempt at her life summoning the essence of the fallen Harbinger of the Old Gods. Her blade roared to life in Deathwing’s voice as magma spilled from its core to the end of the blade. She turned swift aiming to gut the monster within her gaze narrowly missing him as he forced another jolt of pain.

The demon cackled before feeling his own pain but from behind, it blinked for a moment confused at first but soon realised it could not leave anymore. Dropping the spear only allowed the Earthshaper to eviscerate his midsection allowing for blood and guts to pour forth. ‘See how you enjoy having your insides fucked with…’ she chuckled to herself before plunging the blade into the open wound letting the curse of her chosen power flow into the demon. He stepped forward causing her to back up or be crushed.

“.... This… was not what I expected… I w-....”

“No.” Came a colder voice from behind him, “There is no returning for you… ever.” A sickening crack was heard by those close enough as the demon went limp and fell over face first. A Demon Hunter was standing on his back, blades glowing and imbedded deep within his back. In her hand was a heart, the monster's’ heart as she squeezed the drops of blood from it taking in the droplets for herself. Using the back of her arm to clean her face, she looked towards Lymia them smiled eerily.

“You still live…”

“.... Do…. no… You died because of the Fel-Witch! I watched that creature take your life!” the Earthshaper spat angrily as if this was some sort of trick. She observed the Demon Hunter closely, this one was toned, riddled in the markings like the Betrayer had been, eyes covered. But the hair, the cheekbones, her lips, the voice was raspier but the inflections where there. “Astallia you died… how… why?”

“I was meant for more than the light… I was meant to be more than I am… I’m not weak and needing to be as protected… I can protect you better… I can protect everyone so much better…”

“NO!” She howled back at the words then snarled feeling the whispers rise up from the back of her mind with the doubts of who this creature was. Pushing those aside for a brief moment she raised her blade. “You are not her anymore… my lover wouldn’t have drank the blood of these monsters. She wouldn't’ have become a monster herself. She would have stayed with the light!” Clutching the blade in one hand she summoned stone and Elementium into a new drake to fight at her side.

It was clear there was a disappointed look on her face at this, “..... the lover I knew would have stayed as well, I don't’ need eyes to see how you’ve changed. I have work to do.” Her voice turned from delighted and happy to one that was cold and distant as she jumped back far enough as well as high enough to summon wings and glide towards the next battle.

Lymia stood there Drake at her side still tightening her grip on the blade handle. She heard the giggling of Succubi and the hissing of Fel-hounds then turned. ‘This was their fault.’ she thought before charging in to cut them down. Her last thoughts were sent rumbling like an earthquake across the connection of the forgotten with her rage.

“ Legion... “ she slowly calmed soon after that moment. “Is a threat in Tanaris. It must not spread to the Hives there. Stop them. Then join the Horde as our agents. Do not tell them of your affiliation do not be caught. This is your test.”

[thecrimsonlights]

The Depth of War

"Zanza.... Zanza?!  ... Report in now! .......... ZANZA!"

[thecrimsonlights]

[WoW] - Dark Skies on the Horizon

[thecrimsonlights]

[GW2] Dream of Dreams

[thecrimsonlights]

[WoW] - Let Them