Caedun Nov 29 '18

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide "love is like a sin, my love"
The last thing he had expected in her dying moments was an admittance of love. Unrequited and unknown, paired with a sad smile.

His expression loose and gormless, he had tried to reciprocate. She merely laughed and coughed red foam, placing a hand on his cheek.

"Shh... I know you don't. That's not the point."

She sucked in a breath. Her wounds bubbled with the action.

"It's selfish of me, but I can't go without saying it. To let you know that you are more than your work."


He watched her funeral from a distance, unsurprised by the attendance. She had saved many lives and had held a natural charisma that overpowered the ill will held against most Illidari. Many of them had accepted they would die on the shores of the Legion's stronghold, but the reality of it all had been more crushing in practice.

It was true defiance, then, to bury her on the cracked remnants of this world.

His breathing began to quicken as he watched the proceedings: the somber stance of the attendees, the respectful tears, the whispered well-wishes. The breaths took over his body, his shoulders and chest rising and falling with each one. His teeth locked together and creaked.

He twist his neck to gaze over the decimated field below. He felt them crawling amidst it. The storm of emotions evaporated in the heat of his anger. They were responsible; they were always responsible. It started with them, and it would end with them.

Fire ruptured from his flesh and spread over his body. He leapt from his perch, a scorching trail left through the grey sky as he careened towards the only escape he knew.

((too many words rip my consistency))
Colme Blackveil
Colme Blackveil Nov 30 '18
Caedun Dec 4 '18

Quote from Colme Blackveil .

The cursed man considered Caedun, his muscular arms folded over his tattooed chest. The Kal'dorei was covered in dried blood, his wounds field dressed but not properly cared for. His obvious strength had shrunken through days of injured travel, but even from his collapsed position there was a ferocity in his white eyes and a snarl on his lips that brought pause even to a Demon Hunter.

"You realize what you're asking me, don't you?" He brought his head to a slight angle.

"Why do you think I came here?"

"So you accept all that comes after?"

"I do."

"And what of your old life?"

"It is already aflame. You've nothing left to burn for me. All that is left is my revenge."

The cursed man smiled.

Pauleen Vernon
Pauleen Vernon Dec 5 '18
Caedun Dec 6 '18

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide "preach"
Each memory came like a heartbeat, uptempo and constant.

He chased his brother in the field behind their house.

He watched his father weave trees into structures.

The Druids refused him to join their ranks, citing his mother's heritage.

He trained tirelessly, proud to defend his home.

He watched his friends die on the battlefield.

He saw first-hand the power of the Legion.

He found he preferred his fists over blades.

He failed to protect them; they all burned.

He gave up everything he had left to protect others from knowing his fate.

The last memory gave him pause, and he stopped the rhythmic punching, his knuckles ceasing shy of the Felguard's face. The demon was long dead, more battered flesh than being, as were his many allies that were strewn about the burnt-out husk of the house.

He rose to his feet, his breaths deep and ragged in equal amount. He looked around the carcass of his long ago home, the burnt wood overgrown and almost unrecognizable, Legion markers and runes all about the clearing now serving no one.

He realized, slowly, that he had not been made content by his actions.

Caedun Dec 6 '18

Quote from Pauleen Vernon .
His mouth was a lazy waterfall of dark blood, his nose miming it as best it could. A syrupy puddle gathered between his bare, taloned feet.

He could distantly hear the Warden taunting him, spitting his name like a curse, but she was worlds away in his mind. He could hear their feet, feel the vibrations through the stones--sabatons and hooves alike--nearing the abandoned fortress the Sentinel force had captured him in.

She caught him in the cheek with another fist, painting the wall with a splash of near black fluid.

"Pay attention when I'm demeaning you, scum."

He finally lifted his head, and a checkerboard smile spread across his beaten face, pointed teeth alternatingly dark with his blood. The Warden grit her own fangs and wound up another blow, but was interrupted by a Sentinel who burst through the door, leaning on the frame and awash in shallow wounds.

"Demons at the gates!"

Before she could turn back, he shattered his bonds and slammed the Warden into the wall with a single blow, ambient energy already sealing his wounds and crackling about him. The Sentinel stumbled back and he passed by her, heading to his profane duty with long paces.
Caedun Dec 10 '18

Quote from Colme Blackveil /

Her breaths were so shallow as to be that of a near-corpse, her ear poking around the hewn stone wall before the edge of her face did, sight confirming what her other senses had previously determined: he was here.

Her body nearly lit aflame at the sight of her lovely gargoyle chained to the wall, his body more wounds than skin, tattoos flickering wildly. She sucked in a breath to stabilize both physically and mentally, and carefully prepared several hooked arrows with slim, taloned digits.

The cackling of the Sayaad and their Shivarra commander was cut short by silent, precise puncture wounds. Three of them dead on impact with little fanfare, another left grasping at an impaled throat after bouncing off the wall near their prisoner. The commander spun, her reflexes having been enough to smash the first shot into shards with flat of blade, but not near enough to prevent the one that struck her eye, her throat, her heart, each of her lungs.

Tyrana slung her bow back over her slight and strong form, approaching him slowly. As she got close his eyes opened; only one was lit with fel, but there was a spark sealing the other already, latent soul energy restoring him.

He grinned in his toothy way, a small and rare expression. She finally exhaled her cold breath, replaced by warmth.


The Forum post is edited by Caedun Dec 10 '18
Caedun Dec 10 '18

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide "i'm always ready for a war, again"
Though without boots or shoes, the weight of his bare feet still sent an audible thump echoing through the halls with each step. He straightened the front of his scarf and ran a hand through his hair, aligning the wild mane somewhat.

He reached the edge with clenched fists, staring over the patchwork of shattered earth that was Mardum.

Ah, the war is over, bearer mine.

In some respects I am grateful for this ignominious fate; else I'd have naught but the void of death.

Caedun closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, his brows linking together in a knotted line.

"You were so quiet for so long. It was really nice."

Now the war of purpose begins, does it not? To find meaning in your newfound meaninglessness.

Perhaps you would wish to duel over command of this pitiful shell as we did in ages past?

Any demonic foe would do, I am sure.

"Shut up."

Well, I bring unfortunate elucidation: I have grown tired of our struggle; I only wish to watch you squirm in misery. From now on... I am simply a passenger, bearer mine.


His roar bounced off the distant dead rock, and no response came.

The Forum post is edited by Caedun Dec 10 '18
Caedun Dec 11 '18

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide "makes us stronger."

Back hinged, feet spaced, core braced, and arms level, he lowered himself deliberately into the squat position. His palms, broad in their own right, were dwarfed still by the gigantic Infernal core he "held" at his chin by pressing on either side. The weight was struggle enough with such an awkward grip, but the searing heat of the demonic golem's power source added an altogether different challenge.

Nearly every muscle in his body ballooned as a result of the motion, and his veins surged against his plated skin as he hit the bottom. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and back, he sunk his teeth into his lower lip, and his expression twitched as he exerted the force to maintain the stance and lift himself back up. He grunted a loud exhalation, taking a few rapid breaths in and out after.

Cheers and shouts of all types rose around from the Illidari that observed the proceedings, the gathered hunters using the impromptu test of strength as a way to celebrate victory and kill time; a respite.

Caedun quickly glanced to the side at Mynar's excited grin and waving arms. Only four more reps to beat his record.


The Forum post is edited by Caedun Dec 11 '18
Colme Blackveil
Colme Blackveil Dec 12 '18
Caedun Dec 12 '18

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide "this: the song of sons and daughters."

Certainly at their core the Illidari were a fighting force, but slaying demons was far from a singular job.

At times it meant binding wounds, setting camp, outdoor survival, or construction. Today was just that: the building of a forward garrison in Azsuna, what would be their staging point, and likely that of many others.

Massive felsteel spikes were placed, held, and hammered down to place foundation. The repetitive motion was near musical, ringing exhaustion through his body with each swing and clash. In short order they no longer worked alone; an early cadre of Dwarven paladins and priests had dumped their armour and joined in near wordlessly, doubling their speed.

The rhythmic work gave way to whistling, and then a Dwarven labor song of some kind. The stout people sang in a determined and haunting chorus that overtook all but the clashing sounds of material and tool.

As the melody reached a mournful, hopeful crescendo, he lifted his gaze to the ill glow in the hills and mountains beyond the delta. He found in himself the strength for a hundred more blows.
The Forum post is edited by Caedun Dec 12 '18
Caedun Dec 13 '18

Quote from Colme Blackveil .

The city was quiet, the daily bluster and jumble given way for the piecemeal chirps of birds, the jingle and clank of the final carts leaving the streets, and distant din of taverns.

He squat on top of a garrison parapet, the only place he felt comfortable, and trailed his vision over the darkened streets, intermittently dotted by the lamps and the warm glows of multiple homesteads.

He didn't belong here.

The air was warm and sweet. He felt twice as strong taking in breaths of something other than poison and smoke, but the fresh scent was almost overwhelming to his senses, and the extra energy made him fitful and concerned of his own power.

Many of his brothers and sisters had returned here, following the victory in the Legion's foul nest. He followed them tentatively, but only felt more displaced here than he had in the mages' floating city, in this slice of a world he had not been part of for a long, long time.

Sleep would evade him tonight, he knew; but he preferred that to what lay behind his conscious mind.

He let out a long breath, shoulders lowering but tensed.

The Forum post is edited by Caedun Dec 13 '18
Caedun Dec 13 '18

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide "how you know, I got that feeling."

On the northern edge of what was called "Felsoul Hold," they waited with anticipation, each second a beat of apprehension that would not abate; save for him.

He felt excitement, an electric energy of fulfilling destiny and purpose. While the others stood back--downing potions, polishing weapons, and locking in the final pieces of armour--he loomed at the precipice of the cliff, white-knuckled and drawing a mental map of carnage across the patrolling groups of demons.

A human priestess looked him over with concern, her staff balanced on the earth and nestled in her shoulder. She adjusted her mitre with a slim hand and glanced to her side at a Kal'dorei knight who was glaring at the hunter's back fiercely.

He saw their patrol formations open up and he turned his head, rasping just over the top of his scarf.

"This is our chance. We go now!"

A bearded paladin slammed a thumb into his own plated chest.

"Hold up Hunter, I'm--," his words were cut short by Caedun's wings bursting from his back as he leapt off the lip, his arms alight with green flame. He heard yells of protest from behind him, as well as the stampeding of feet.

Behind his scarf was a wide and menacing grin.

Yssadora Skysinger
Yssadora Skysinger Dec 17 '18
"It is our own flaws that we are least ready to forgive in others."
Pages: « 1 2 3 »
Password protected image
Password protected image
Password protected image