#almost has a heart attack and forces them to get gale to organize

[balanceoflightanddark]

Slaves to Perfection

One of the things I have a bit of a habit of doing is comparing similar characters or themes across various pieces of media and see what one says about the other. How seeing things from a different perspective can put the other into focus and all that.

With this in mind, let's talk about Azula for a moment. A common misconception about her is that she is assumed to have a lot more agency in her actions than most. That being the Crown Princess and the "favorite" of Ozai, she naturally has more say in what she does. And as such, she has a lot to answer for.

Now while I can't exactly argue that Azula has done bad things in the past of her own volition (looks at the burning net incident for example), I don't believe she has a great deal of autonomy as some people might assume. And there happens to be a character that demonstrates what I'm talking about perfectly.

Pokemon XD: Gale of Darkness is the second in what is commonly referred to as the Orre duology (which includes the earlier released Pokemon Colosseum). While essentially being a Pokemon game in both spirit and in mechanics, it's also noted for being among some of the darker installments in the franchise. The culmination of this is the introduction of "Shadow Pokemon" (later reintroduced via Pokemon GO!).

Shadow Pokemon are...unique. They're Pokemon who've had their hearts artificially shut, turning them into what is described in-universe as "fighting machines." All their personality is suppressed and replaced with violence and aggression to make a better weapon. Think of them as volatile bundles of rage.

And the apex of this is Shadow Lugia, a.k.a XD-001. Shadow Lugia is one of the main driving forces of the game, directly responsible for abducting a cruise ship and capturing a ton of Pokemon for the criminal group Cipher to corrupt. He was designed to be the ultimate Shadow Pokemon. Terrifyingly powerful, he's the biggest threat the Orre region faces outside of Cipher's Grandmaster himself. To make matters worse, he's said to be so corrupted, he's resistant to any attempts of purification. Not to mention unlike other Shadow Pokemon, who you need to read their aura and behavior to identify them as such, Lugia underwent radical body changes when he was conditioned into XD-001:

The interesting tidbit I found was...Azula and Shadow Lugia have a lot of parallels with one another.

Both of them for example are essentially the attack dogs of the main antagonist: Azula for Ozai, Shadow Lugia for Greevil. Both of them do a lot of the heavy lifting for their respective masters: Azula is the one who took down Ba Sing Se and organized the defense during the Day of the Black Sun, while XD-001 was responsible for procuring the Pokemon necessary for Cipher's plans. And both of them are associated a lot with perfection and high expectations: Azula's drive for perfection and the crushing expectations from her father is one of the pillars of her breakdown, while Lugia spent most of the game getting "fine-tuned" by Lovrina for not managing to lug the S.S. Libra all the way across the region. Not to mention both are heavily associated with fear and are fought in the final battle.

But...here's where things get a little messy. See, despite how terrifyingly powerful and menacing Shadow Lugia is...he's just a slave.

Lugia never chose to be turned into what he is. He was conditioned to solely be Greevil's "most loyal servant" with no free will of his own. Hell, that scene where he captures the S.S. Libra? He gets a signal first before acting, almost like a machine turning. Even his codename XD-001 is less of a name and more something that you'd name a weapon. Despite being deemed by Greevil to be the leader of his army of Shadow Pokemon, he essentially has no will of his own and has to go along with it. And he's treated as such by the narrative, where snagging him from Greevil's clutches is a big part of the game.

Azula is very much in the same boat when you apply that logic. Cruel as she is, Azula didn't have a whole lot of room to be her own person, even being named after her grandfather rather than having her own name. Ozai carefully conditioned her into being his weapon, before throwing her to the wolves by abandoning her in a worthless position. There wasn't any room for kindness, otherwise, that small portion of love shown would've been reduced to cinders along with her face. With no real alternative world viewpoint, Azula had about as much free will as you might expect any other weapon.

Azula was a monster and weapon first in Ozai's eyes, not a person. And under his influence, she had no real chance to change herself for the better in the show proper.

Which begs the question: when one is conditioned to be a monster, has no real alternative where all the others result in you either being maimed, punished, or "fine-tuned"...how much free will does one really have?

#azula #princess azula #shadow lugia #free will #character rambles

[ceremorphilia]

ALL MY CHARACTERS: THERE ARE SEVERAL

this is mostly complete but i might add little tidbits. this post exists for my own personal organization and peace of mind

Marlowe

AGE: Mid-late 30s (unsure due to amnesia)

RACE: Zariel Tiefling

GENDER: Genderless (they/them)

SEXUALITY: Bisexual/unspecified

BACKGROUND: Outlander

CLASS: Barbarian

SUBCLASS: Berserker

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral/chaotic good

LOVE INTEREST: Astarion

BEST FRIEND: Shadowheart and Karlach

BACKSTORY: One day in the not-so-distant past, a pair of adventurers tracking a band of raiders through the wilds of Faerûn came across a destroyed riverside village. Searching the wreckage for survivors, they found only one: a small, injured, mute tiefling child with no memory of what had happened to their home or family. The adventurers- a dwarf paladin and an elf ranger named Gregor and Sylvya- took them in and raised them as their own. From their adoptive parents, Marlowe learned the art of combat, and took to it like breathing. Their relative clumsiness and tendency to fly into a blind rage made them well-suited to a more barbaric fighting style, and they spent their childhood and teen years adventuring with their parents. When they were old enough to be on their own, they set off to Baldur’s Gate where they quickly fell into debt to a kingpin of the Guild and were forced to work as a bodyguard-slash-general-purpose-muscle. They hated the city and wanted nothing more to return to the wilds, so they decided one day to simply pack up and leave, Guild be damned. Their plans were immediately cut short by a certain mind flayer plot. Wrong place, wrong time, and here they are with a tadpole behind their eye.

ABOUT: They’ve never known a life without violence. It’s all they know how to do and they’re very, very good at it. They’re a protector and their worst nightmare is allowing harm to come to their friends and loved ones- they blame themself whenever a party member gets hurt and feel it’s their responsibility to ensure everyone is safe. This gets annoying when they start literally throwing themself in front of attacks and getting severely injured in almost every battle. They’re quiet, reserved, and deeply insecure. They’ve been taught that fighting is the only thing they’re good for and they believe it. They’re also a big silly idiot with a soft heart, a weakness for praise, and far too much love to give.

Tyrra

AGE: 29

RACE: Half-orc

GENDER: Woman but like, only incidentally (she/her)

SEXUALITY: Lesbian

BACKGROUND: Soldier

CLASS: Ranger

SUBCLASS: Beast master (might change if/when I play as her again)

ALIGNMENT: Neutral good

LOVE INTEREST: Karlach

BEST FRIEND: Lae’zel, Wyll and Gale (although she really gets along with everyone)

BACKSTORY: Tyrra grew up in a mixed human-orc settlement out in the wilds of Faerun. She joined their militia early in life, learning from her human father how to defend against raiders and survive in nature. She had a pretty simple life before the nautiloid, patrolling the settlement’s perimeters and skirmishing with raiders and bandits along its outskirts.

ABOUT: She’s like a camp counselor-slash-drill sergeant. Very passionate about nature, highly organized, even-tempered and intolerant of bullshit. She’s highly skilled in combat but her true passion is surviving in the wilds by foraging, hunting and navigating. She tends not to get along with most people as a result of her rather isolated and combat-centric upbringing but she is truly gentle and kindhearted. She has a soft spot for creepy and maligned animals and has a giant spider companion familiar that follows her around. Her trusty crossbow is named Florence and she treats it like a baby.

Lior

AGE: ??? (He could be anywhere from like 30 to 130. He has no idea and frankly neither do I).

RACE: High half-elf

GENDER: Man-adjacent, trans (he/they)

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

BACKGROUND: Haunted One

CLASS: Sorcerer

SUBCLASS: Draconic Bloodline

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral

LOVE INTEREST: Gale (they are each other’s emotional support unstable mage)

BEST FRIEND: Mostly Gale but also Shadowheart

BACKSTORY: The Dark Urge

ABOUT: He’s very twitchy and unstable and afraid of himself. He hates feeling like he’s not in control of himself and wants very badly to get rid of the Urge. He composes poetry about murder and death to cope with his thoughts, his favorite spells are Fireball and Magic Missile, and he enjoys teasing Gale about his wizardry despite not actually having any beef with wizards.

Iulia

AGE: 25

RACE: Mephistopheles Tiefling

GENDER: Female (she/her)

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

BACKGROUND: Urchin

CLASS: Rogue

SUBCLASS: Arcane Trickster

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral/chaotic good

LOVE INTEREST: Shadowheart

BEST FRIEND: Wyll and Karlach (honorable mention to Astarion who completely hates her in a dubiously friendly way. It’s reciprocal.)

BACKSTORY: Iulia grew up as an orphan on the streets of Elturel, picking pockets and stealing from market stands to survive. She and a couple other orphans ran a scam where she’d perform a magic show on a street corner to draw a crowd, and her comrades would pick as many pockets as they could. Later, in her teens and early adulthood, she was part of a loosely-organized thieves’ guild in the city, which she promptly abandoned when Elturel fell to Get The Fuck Out Of There. After a few months of hitchhiking on the road she ended up in Baldur’s Gate where she stayed for just a couple weeks before being picked up by the nautiloid. Bad luck all around.

ABOUT: She’s scrappy and cunning, she says what’s on her mind and isn’t afraid to take risks. She’s used to bailing on a situation the second it goes bad so having to make allies and get along with a bunch of weirdos is uncomfortable for her. She’s highly capable and skilled but also very overconfident in her own abilities and often ends up in stupid situations due to her own hubris. She has a natural gift for arcana which she uses for cheap parlor tricks and mischief.

Vivienne

AGE: 50s

RACE: Wood half-elf

GENDER: Woman (she/her)

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

BACKGROUND: Acolyte

CLASS: Paladin

SUBCLASS: Oath of the Ancients

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good

LOVE INTEREST: Wyll

BEST FRIEND: Has minor beef with nearly everybody for one reason or another, is most chill with Karlach and becomes close with Shadowheart in act 3

BACKSTORY: When she came of age, Vivienne left her commune-dwelling Lathanderite wood elf family to join the Order of the Aster in Waterdeep, and dedicate herself to the protection of all those within the Morninglord’s embrace. She spent her early adulthood fighting monsters, defending temples, and being utterly miserable about herself with no idea why. When she gets picked up by the nautiloid and set on a crusade against the Absolute she comes to realize two things: 1) she is a woman and 2) she is utterly convinced she’s been chosen for this divine mission by Lathander Himself.

ABOUT: She’s a faithful and courageous warrior of the light, sworn to protect nature and act with mercy and kindness. Her faith is deeply important to her and her driving motivation. Her oath bids her to stand against wickedness in all forms so she often goes out of her way to help those in need. She butts heads with a lot of the party members rather frequently as a result of her faith, and has to be held back from instigating hand-to-hand combat on more than one occasion. She has a passion for history, culture, nature and religion and will infodump about the pantheon of Faerun to anyone who will listen.

[grumpyhedgehogs]

and I cough up my lungs (but I leave in my heart)

Summary: Adaine rolls a nat one on her panic attack check after Aelwyn hits her with Tasha’s Hideous Laughter in episode one. Title from Organs by Of Monsters and Men. 

Something changes when Aelwyn redirects her sister’s spell back at her. She doesn't know exactly what yet.

Something changes after Aelwyn throws Adaine’s Tasha’s Hideous Laughter back at her. Adaine doubles over, howling with mirth. Aelwyn’s lips tug up into a smug smirk. She’s about to lord it over her sister, about to talk about irony and good spellcasting and why she’s the only sister who can hold up the family name. Adaine raises her head, though, and the words die in her throat because--because Adaine is crying. 

“A--Adaine?” She forces out through suddenly numb lips. “Sister?”

Sure, crying doesn’t amount to much since Tasha’s Hideous Laughter is uncontrollable for a reason. But her sister’s eyes are darting around--looking for an exit, Aelwyn’s mind supplies--and her pupils contract to pinpoints, the white showing all the way around. There’s sweat beading on her forehead. Her hands are trembling, grasping around air. 

She’s seen her sister have panic attacks before. She’s never been the reason, though. 

“Adaine, really, this display is very gauche.” Aelwyn says, groping for levity. She drops the spell with a twitch of her fingertips, the old, familiar sting of guilt snaking up her spine. Adaine will be fine now. The spell is over. She’s fine. “I simply must ask you to stop.”

“Hah--hah--” Adaine gasps. She tries to take in a great breath as the spell fades, but her chest hitches violently and she clutches at her blazer with both hands, gagging. Her shoulders hunch up around her ears and she half turns from Aelwyn, looking ready to fall. She inhales again but can’t seem to force any air past the back of her throat; Aelwyn watches the tendons in her neck begin to stand out as she struggles. She’s trembling harder now, like a leaf in a gale of wind and Aelwyn--doesn’t know what to do. “Ah--I--”

This isn’t going to plan. She’s supposed to be convincing Adaine to steal the book from Aguefort’s restricted section. She’s supposed to be making sure she’ll take the next step on her way to being the elven oracle. Adaine isn’t supposed to be having trouble breathing. 

“I--I can’t--” Adaine forces out, just to make Aelwyn’s life all the harder. “I--can’t--breathe.”

She’s curling in on herself, shaking so hard it’s almost like she’s having a seizure, like she’s convulsing. Panic attacks aren’t usually like this, are they? Adaine usually just looks pale and upset, breathing hard but not like she’s going to hyperventilate her way to unconsciousness. Hell, their mother had sent her into a second attack right after she failed the entrance exam and she hadn’t been this bad. Exhausted and frail looking--she’s so small, Aelwyn thinks, and tears at herself for it--but not like this. 

It must be the spell then. But Aelwyn got rid of it! This shouldn’t--this couldn’t be--but Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, taking away Adaine’s ability to breathe after their father’s treatment and on the first day of school? It’s enough to make even Aelwyn’s breath short. It’s no small wonder it's taken Adaine this long to snap. 

“I--” She stops. Vitriol is always easier to access these days. It has been for a long time. But Adaine is curling in on herself and, against her better judgement, abjuration magic curls at Aelwyn’s fingertips. Instinctively she glances around, searching for something, anything, some outside danger she can hex into oblivion to get rid of this feeling. She has to make this better.

You did this, you did this to her, whispers Aelwyn’s mind. She snarls and steps forward. When she raises her hands, Adaine flinches slightly and Aelwyn’s stomach drops to the soles of her feet. Why--

She’s never seen their parents strike her sister. She’s made herself watch what they have done to her, guilt not letting her turn away. It’s all the penance she can offer--but she’s never seen anything physical. She would know. She would know.

She tells herself it’s just the fear that comes with the attacks and slows her approach. 

“Adaine? Adaine, It’s me. It’s your sister, Aelwyn. You’re having a panic attack.” The words feel clunky, too heavy and strange on her tongue. She knows she’s having a panic attack, you dolt. Obvious, much? “You’re having a panic attack, okay? But it’s okay, you’re alright. You--”

You’re the elven oracle, you’re the strongest wizard I know, you’re going to save the world some day, I can tell. You’re my sister and I never saved you when I should have and now I’m going to throw everything we ever could have had away because Mother and Father say I have to. I learned abjuration magic for you. I love you. 

“You’re alright.” She finishes lamely. “I’m--I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.” Not yet. Her stomach curdles, acid rising in her throat. She swallows it down. 

Adaine gasps again, but she’s not curled so tightly into herself anymore. Her chest heaves as she raises her head, wide eyes searching Aelwyn’s face. She struggles not to smooth her expression on reflex. It’s a weird feeling to let her worry crease her brow naturally.  “Wh--what?”

“I’m right here,” Aelwyn repeats. She feels stupid and bumbling and useless. She raises her hands just a hair. “I’m going to touch you now. I--I should guide your breathing. It will help the attack pass. You can follow me.”

Adaine is still skittish, looking ready to bolt at the first wrong move. Aelwyn telegraphs her movements as much as she can and manages to lay one hand lightly on her sister’s shoulder. She guides her sister’s hand to her own chest and lays it over her heartbeat. She mirrors this with her other hand, feels Adaine’s heartbeat fluttering wildly under her palm. Aelwyn suppresses a wince. She hopes her own heart is holding steady. It doesn’t feel like it. “Listen. You need to breathe normally, Adaine. I heard those videos you looked up--you’ve got breathing exercises, yes?”

Even if she doesn’t know any, Aelwyn does. Aelwyn spent four hours looking them up after Adaine’s first panic attack. She’s had them memorized for years. 

Adaine nods jerkily and Aelwyn makes herself nod back. Her mouth is filled with cotton. Her ears are ringing. She takes a deep, deep breath, exaggerates as much as she can, and begins to count. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight. After a few moments, it starts to calm even her, and Aelwyn’s eyes become half-lidded. The process is hypnotic and she breathes deliberately rhythmically, trying to push her calm into her sister through touch contact alone. Is there magic for situations like this? She’ll have to learn it if there is.

“Come along now, sister,” she murmurs on her fourth exhale. “Come along.”

Adaine’s ribs aren’t hitching anymore by the sixth exhale. By the eighth, her shoulders are relaxing. By the ninth, her pupils have expanded again and she’s not clutching at her blazer’s collar like it’s choking her. By the tenth round, she pulls away.

The sense of loss Aelwyn feels is idiotic, and so she chooses to ignore it.

“Thanks,” her sister whispers. Aelwyn feels her walls crumble just a bit more and has to bite her lip against the rush of emotions it brings. “Even--I mean, you're the reason it started but. You didn’t mean to, so. Thanks.”

At least Adaine feels as awkward as she does. Aelwyn nods stiffly and adjusts her own uniform. Her pride is in tatters but she clings to the scraps. She has work to get done. A sister to manipulate. A dragon to trick. Parents to impress.

Adaine turns her face away and Aelwyn knows she’s trying to wipe her tears away surreptitiously. She sees anyway. There’s a lump in her throat. Even as she lets the words flow from her mouth, as she draws Adaine into the web Goldenhoard and their parents have weaved around her all summer, Aelwyn feels the phantom beat of her sister’s heart under her fingers. She mentions the book and almost tells Adaine to keep it for herself. As Adaine turns her back and marches away, something broken and cold and long dead in Aelwyn’s chest perks its head up and watches her sister leave with--dare she say it--a warm protective feeling growing inside. 

Something changes when Aelwyn redirects her sister’s spell back at her. She doesn't know exactly what yet.

#cw: panic attacks #tw: panic attack #panic attacks #panic attack #panic tw #adaine abernant #aelwyn abernant #family feels #family fic #siblings #protective siblings #dysfuntional family #familial abuse #emotional abuse #tw: abuse #implied abuse #hurt/comfort #hurt and comfort #hurt little comfort #fantasy high #fantasy high sophmore year #fantasy high live #dimension 20 #dimension 20 live #dimension 20 spoilers #fh #fhl #d20 #fantasy high fic #fantasy high fanfic

[emmybluefire]

The Darkened Cellar

Drustvar… a mountainous region forever shrouded in mystery. It’s forests red, or dead, from many decades of Pine Beatles invading their trunks. Their branches clawing at the night sky. A sky whose stars are shrouded by a perpetual blanket of clouds and smoke.

Betwixt its oceans of forest, reaches of swampland, and miles upon miles of mountain peaks… it comes as no surprise that so much could happen unnoticed here. That so many go missing here. Here, in Drustvar, it is strongly encouraged that you stick to the roads, lest you never find your way out of the gnarled trunks again. But even then, when the nights are cold, and the clouds thickest… you may still yet happen upon something you’d rather forget.

GrawkGrawk… Grawwwwk, Grawwwk!

Ravens croaked and rattled in a cacophonous sing-along as a young woman made her way through the darkening woods. The weather was getting cold, and the fog was growing thicker with each step she made. Pulling her azure cloak closer to her body, her cosmic gaze lifted to the sky. Her lips struggling as a nervous smile overtook her gale. The sound of raven’s had always comforted her, made her feel safe… hopeful. For her, whenever they came into her life they were like guides. Creatures she’d always seen in a positive light. And, ever since she was little, she’d dedicated her life to, on some level, understanding their trilling croaks and clicks. But, despite this… something about them seemed rather off…

It wasn’t their encouraging words, nor their tone of voice. It was the way they said it. They seemed… rehearsed. Possessed, even. Her already struggling smile faded almost as quickly as it began. Though she hadn’t been in the island nation of Kul’Tiras for very long, she had already heard the stories of this place. This region everyone knows as, “Drustvar”. Here, the sight of Raven’s wasn’t a good omen from the ancient forest spirits of old. Not that she ever believed that… Here, the ravens’ song was a dark omen. A cursed omen. Here, the song of a raven was a premonition of death. A sign that evil forces prowled nearby… that a witch, was on her way to siphon your precious life away. The exact reason she was here.

“The Heartsbane Coven”, they called themselves. A matriarchal group of female magic users. Women who use the powers of nature and void to meet some selfish, often times malicious end. Drustvar has had plenty of issues with them of late. They once came so close to their goal that all of Drustvar’s denizens were either cursed, frozen… or dead. However they got bold, reckless. Decisions that ultimately lead to their sudden, unceremonious, bloody downfall.

Though, despite this, the raven’s above still seemed under their influence. How though? They’ve all been killed. At least, that’s what Azeroth’s champions claim… Taking a deep breath inward, the azure sorceress lowered her veiled hood, allowing her eloquent mahogany strands to flow in the wind.

GrawkGrawk… Grawwwwwk, Grawk!

The Raven’s above increased the pace of their song. As she looked around, more seemed to gather around. Surrounding her. The large ebony birds clicked, and trilled. Their talons curved and sharp, and the excess around their neck puffing outward. The woman’s heart sank when she realized… they were getting more aggressive. Suddenly, though she could never feel cold before, a shiver rippled down her spine, reverberating in through her toes. They were going to attack her!

A pain lurched outward from her heart, sending a wave of adrenaline pulsating throughout her body. With everything she had, she quickly darted forward, the back of her head groaning with pain as the first beak lurched into the top vertebrae of her spine. Blood seeping from her cheek as another barely missed her eye! It had only been a few seconds, but she was sure she had already run about a hundred feet. And yet the Ravens were still in hot pursuit! The clamorous racket of hundreds of wings whipped and fluttered all about her. The noise and gathered wind of it all disorienting her, blinding her from the twigs and branches of low hanging trees blocking her path.

She held her hands up to block her head from the relentless onslaught of razor-like feathers and talons. Each inch of her clothing getting shredded by the obstacles around her. She couldn’t see where she was going, she didn’t know where she was being herded to… she just new that enough was enough.

An uprooted tree stump caught her foot, and though she dare not open her eyes to see what was happening, her stomach lurched as her topside fell forward, and her feet left the ground. Her next few seconds suspended in the air were spent feeling blunt pains and jagged twigs snap beneath her weight. She was sliding! Tumbling! Out of instinct, a jolt of pain opened her eyes, and beneath her she saw the ground below a steeply inclined cliff come upon her rapidly.

“Aeros Frele!” she screeched. She screeched so loud her throat hurt! But the purpose of her words did the job. A wash of golden light enveloped her form, and her organs churned inside as her velocity quickly slowed to a feather’s pace. Out of instinct, she glanced back… only to see that the raven’s had decided to cease their assault. Croaking, and cawing on the branches of trees now far above her. Gently, she landed upon the ground with naught but a supple thunk as her feet touched the soil beneath them. Each breath she took now was shaken. She almost felt… betrayed, in a way. These birds–the kind which she’d always valued and respected–attacked her. Not only did they attack her, they herded her off of a cliff! They wanted to kill her! But that wasn’t of paramount importance right now…

Her anger and fear was soon overpowered by something else. Clarity. Perhaps aided by denial. She took a deep, controlled breath inward and watched the ravens above carefully. They weren’t acting as they naturally would. Normally, when raven’s get territorial, they escort intruders out. This? This was straight up aggression. Something more was definitely going on here… If she was going to put a stop to it, she had to find out what it was.

She lifted a forearm up to her cheek, and tried to wipe it of blood. But it, in of itself, was so covered in it that she only smeared it, and made each inch of affected skin pierce with stinging agony.

“Agh! Fuck!” she inhaled sharply, teeth gritted. She groaned, briefly examining herself. Bruises, scrapes, and blunt pain in her butt and hips. But no disfigurement or swelling. Shaky though she was… she could honestly consider herself lucky her injuries weren’t a whole lot worse. Grabbing the hems of her cloak, she pulled it close to her body and turned around, only to be greeted by an eerie sight.

The Raven’s above went silent, and she could hear nothing but the wind, it’s cool breeze gently caressing the sides of her face. Before her was a house. Large, and abandoned. It’s vaulted glass windows were broken, it’s roof’s dark shingles falling apart. She was surrounded on all four sides by three foot high, overgrown, stone walls, and a tall archway who’s iron gates were out of place, and falling of it’s hinges. She had fallen into some family’s yard. Yet it’s boarded up windows, unkempt yard, and overall neglected appearance indicated that… well, whoever lived here was long gone. But not so long ago that the house is in ruins… no. They left recently. Within the last year or two… if they ever left at all.

A chill ran down her spine once again, making her shiver, as she examined the yard. There was splintered wooden swing hanging from a gnarled oak tree-branch, and a leather ball sitting abandoned just in front of it. Against it, a rag-doll sat… intentionally put there… recently. The adrenaline that presently ran through the woman’s veins made her sweat grow cold as ice…

“Lumos holem…” she muttered to herself, lifting a finger into the air. From it, an incorporeal ball of gentile white light levitated just above. With the artificial moonlight now on her side, she felt some more confidence infuse her. She stepped closer to the doll. Grass covered most of her form… but there was something she could make out. A glint of silver made itself known coming out of the doll’s neck. A sewing needle. Though, it was too large to be just that... The sorceress’s eyes pulsated their signature cosmic blue, but nothing about the doll changed. It was just that… a doll. But there was something else.

A thick, oily smell, combined with the pungent stench of decaying mushrooms. It’s mere presence made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. To a trained mage, when unique stenches like these come with no discernible source… it only means one thing. Magic. And this magic was not coming from the doll, it was coming from-

A twig behind her snapped! Her heart pounded against her chest so hard she felt like It might actually fall out! She spun around to face whatever it was, her heart thudding so heavily she could even hear it… But as the radius of her magical light pulsated and expanded, the shuffling noises behind her retreated. Something out there was moving… and for a moment, she could swear she saw a quick blur of black dart away.

What was it? What was it!? Her chest kept expanding to max capacity as she hyperventilated. Each breath felt like it was going to explode out of her lungs! Why wouldn’t it show itself!? Coven creatures attack indiscriminately! Relentlessly! What was this thing’s game? It had to be the source of the magic she sensed. It had to be. Her cosmic eyes pulsated with blue once again, only this time, the scent came from much further away. Around the side of the house… no… under the house? Could this be her mind playing tricks on her? No…

“Alright Sorve… deep breaths…” the woman muttered to herself. “Focus… this is a creature of void and flesh… this is Heartsbane magic without a doubt…” in through the nose… out through the mouth. In…. out… In… Out… “Alright…��� And with that, a new sense of calm and clarity seeped into her form. She could do this. She had to do this. This creature tried to set up an ambush, and ran when it realized it didn’t have the jump on her. It’s smart. It’s tactics show a level of intelligence she doesn’t often see with heartsbane constructs. Intelligence means power… and power means that this is a much greater threat than she’d previously thought. If she doesn’t put a stop to it, If she doesn’t kill it, or banish it tonight, Then it’s only going to learn more, and grow stronger. And that is something she cannot allow!

Her eyes pulsated once more, she could see it now. The wispy black signature stream it left behind. There it is… The sorceress patted herself down and took one last breath. She felt like she had a block of cobblestone in her shoes as she took her next step forward. In her satchel… she felt something uneven within. Gentile tapping and rolling came from it as she ran her hand over it. The etched runestones, of course! She’d been here to gather them as spellcrafting reagents. Finally--for the first time in this entire night--she felt confident enough to smirk. She really can do this.

In the distance, the sound of a large wooden door splintering caused her to shoot up and gasp! One more surge of adrenaline ripped through her body, giving her the energy to get this done, and quickly. As fast as she could, she pulled out the ancient runestones and darted towards the noise. What she was greeted with was exactly as expected.

Kul’tirans were known for their cellars, things which she never really liked. One could call it an irrational fear, but cellars are where evil things go to fester. And that is exactly what she thought it was doing… Hiding, festering… feeding off of the negative emotions of the house’s occupants until one day it’s strong enough to wreak havoc upon the land. Quickly, she got to work. Hoping, and praying to the titans that her gift for quick reading was fast enough in this very moment.

Glancing at all the runestones, she discerned exactly which ones she needed to set a trap for this thing, and at a rapid pace she started placing them in a circle.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch…

It was coming, she could hear the sound of heavy nails scratching and chipping at the wood below as it came up the stairs. “Elementa aer ignis aqua…” and in a low, manifesting voice… she began to chant.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch…

It’s scratches were nearer now. It was going to poke it’s head up at any moment. “quae vobis ostendi non…” And right on queue, she looked up to see four long, bony fingers creep up over the edge. Long, gnarled, curling claws protruding outward from appendages covered in bristly black strands of hair. It was a race against time now…

“esse quod non est abominatio…” her heart raced… the incantation was almost done now! But did she have enough time? That thing could jump out and kill her right now! Why was it taking so long? Above the ridge of the cellar door; she could see a pair of piercing, cold, glowing green eyes stare at her from beyond… directly into her soul… if it could. It loosed a low, reverberating, growl. One that seemed hybridized with the moan of a dying human.

“Nunc mihi det potestatem expellendi ex ea mundus iste!“ her chant rose drastically in volume, coming to a shout at the end. The long, spindly creature launched itself from the cellar doors! Landing dead smack in the middle of the circle!

The woman stepped back as it began to lash out and scream. “Enshielda exumae!” she bellowed, the runes on the ground exploding up with shimmering violet pink energy! It was trapped… each slash with it’s gnarly claws, each bite with its crooked fang-like teeth, bounced off the inside of the spiritual sphere that imprisoned it. It’s gangling limbs hung limply at it’s side as it loosed a screeching howl into the night. But no help would come for it now. None! And she knew it.

“I, Thaumaturge Sorvegosa, Matron of the Blue Dragonflight-” she lifted a hand and allowed flowing streams of arcane energy to snake down her fingers, and into a concentrated ball centered between her pinkie and index fingers. The creature continued to lash out… but to no avail.

“Has discovered you, and deemed your existence on this plane a direct affront to the laws of magic! Begone from this realm, and go back from whence you came! You, ARE banished!” And as she finished her judgement, the ball of arcane energy blasted into the creature within! It’s energy surging through and ripping into every cell of it’s body, breaking it apart piece by piece.

It writhed on the ground, screaming… it’s joint’s contorting in unnatural ways. Each bone in it’s body snapped in sloshy ways as they grinded up against his muscles and tendons… breaking down until there was nothing left but dust. It’s flesh bubbled and popped as it melted down back into the soil the coven used to create it… finally… it was gone.

Gasping for breath, the woman dropped backwards onto her butt to take in what she’d just accomplished. Satisfied to know… that at least in some small part… she had disrupted the Coven’s plans… any who remained at least… Somehow, as the looked around at the sky above… it seemed, brighter. The clouds parted and revealed to her the shining stars and moon above. Just past the hour of three and thirty… the end of the demonic hour. Nothing in the world could ruin her mood now.

Authors Gratitude: WHOOOOOOOO BOY! So. I know this post was long AF! But! if you guys got through then well, A: Go to the store and by yourself some goddamn bakery cookies! You deserve them! And, B: THANK YOU SO FRIGGIN MUCH! YOU GUYS DON’T REALIZE HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME WHEN YOU READ MY SHIZ :P Hopefully it wasn’t too spooky.

Anyways, Yes. Sorry. I got the inspiration to write this story from a Reddit called nosleep. If you guys want to read that, then the link for it is here. You’re welcome for the nightmares :P

#haloween #wow #world of warcrat #ic #in character #mage #magic #sorceress #drustvar #bfa #battle for azeroth #short story #spooky #dragon #boogeyman #horror #raven #witch #witchcraft