Revenge of the Half Demon Son Edit

In the world of Azeroth, there resides the story of vengeance. At birth, Drakion Darksoul was cursed by the soul of a demon that was infused into his body by his Demonologist father, Glenn. On a sleepy spring day, Drakion at the age of a mere 12, would lose hear the whispers of a man within his head. They were alluring to the young boy as he soon found out that he watched his arms move without his command. His legs were next and then his entire body; he was a prisoner in his own flesh. He could do nothing but watch himself thrust a dagger into the heart of his mother, from behind. As the voice faded, the last words he heard were, “You have done well my son.” As his mother coated his arms in blood, lying in her blood, he released a spine tingling shrill in the lost of his mother. 183 years into the future, he was now a reflection of his father, a practitioner of demonology and the magical arts of controlling fiery spells and shadowy spells. In the world of Azeroth, magic was a common commodity, practiced by magisters and select others. On this day, in the blanket of the night and the watchful eye of the gloomy white moon in the sky, the father and son were about to be reunited for the first time in 194 years. As Drakion’s friends watched the two stare down each other in the valley of eastern Duskwood, they could feel the very tension in the air and the ‘calm before the storm.’ Glenn held Thanatosa’s live by a mere thread, holding her arms behind her back as his other hand with a dagger to her neck. She was a beautiful young elf, as well as Drakion’s lover. She had long, violet hair with a soft black glow in her eyes and pale white skin. Drakion’s eyes surge with a suppressed rage as his voice mirrored them in tone. “Let her go you bastard!” Glenn snickered as he tossed her to the side, she was not his goal, Drakion was. In one swing of his arm, gripping his mask and hood, he would remove them to expose his hidden face, the face of Drakion’s father. As Thanatosa moved away from the man quickly, rejoining the friends behind Drakion, the son step forward. His eyes widen, the valley whispering with a calm gust, the expression of his face was indescribable. As his lips rose in the rage that slowly rose within him, baring the fangs granted to him by his demonic influences, he took in a long breath. At that moment he would release a yell that would shake the moral of any warrior, “FATHER!” Faster than a blink of an eye, he jolted at his father with an unbreakable resolve and unmatched rage. Within a flash, his father was pin to a large stone behind him, held by the throat, in the grasp of his tightening grip and nails as sharp as knifes. There were no words spoken, only seen within Drakion’s eyes, he only saw the heartbeat of his prey, the Crimson River that flowed in his veins and corporal shell they were held within. In his eyes, the world was gone. Drakion’s hand would jolt back and his right hand would launch into Glenn’s chest. The razor sharp claws would push through the flesh and break through the ribs beneath, attempting to grip the beating heart within the body’s cavity, in his bare hand. Glenn would finally revolt to his opponent. His left arm gripped the wrist of Drakion’s that held his throat. His right hand’s palm would land in Drakion’s chest and release a violent explosion of a fiery spell. Drakion’s hands would release him and proceed to stumble back by the sheer force of the magic Glenn unleashed in his chest. His cloths were torn and burn to ashes. As the smoke cleared, he held his bloody chest, breathing heavily, a soft growl mixed into his exhales. Glenn simply grin deviously, snickering as well as his own chest was seeping blood from where his heart was attempted to be gripped by the son. As the snickering reached Drakion’s ear, he yelled out once more in his blood thirsty rage. He charged once more, this time his own palms crackling with magic as he raised the two palms towards his father. His father made no attempt to defend, the two palms would slam into his chest and instantly releasing two of the same explosive fire spells. In the disastrous results, his father would be forced back with such strength, it would shatter the rock behind him and fall onto his back, half covered in the rubble from the shambled stone. Drakion’s assault wouldn’t stop, relentless as it was violent. Following the explosion, Drakion would leap into the air and ram his knee into his father’s gut, as well as his left arm wrapping its grip around his throat and his right arm slamming into the heart’s cavity once more. As his father finally regains himself, he began to slam his fist into Drakion’s face over and over as his final moments were at hand. Drakion’s face would continue to be pounded by the powerful fist, yet it did nothing to his resolve, his hand continued to twist, turn and break the ribs as he dug his claws into the heart within the body of his father as he yelled out, “You killed her! You killed mother!” It would only take a moment; the heart of his father would break loose of his body’s housing and be ripped in a bloody rage, out of his father, beating its final moments of life within his palm. As his father lie on the ground, releasing his final breath, he whispered a single, last line, “You’re the one who put the dagger in her back.” The blood coated Drakion’s face and arms, it spew ever inch of his body as the life giving crimson lake, broke from its dam and released upon it’s capturer. As Drakion stand before his father’s dead body, he wouldn’t stop. He would place his claws at the man’s abdomen and proceed to tear it open in a prismatic nature and pulling out the intestines of the man he despise with ever thread of his being. Gripping the head corpse, he drag the body to a tree and wraps the intestines around the body’s neck and tossing them over the branch of an old tree, hanging him from his own entrails. At last he was gripped a small dagger’s hilt and unsheathed it to thrust it to the father’s heart and then into the cavity it once resided in, with his body. Drakion, with no hesitation, turns away while speaking a single word that would incite yet another fire spell, consuming the man’s body in flames. It was over and Drakion was walked away with those words in his mind, words that would haunt him for the majority of his life. Drakion had finally fulfilled the desire from years long past, yet he still felt empty. He pressed on to see what lie in wait in the following chapters of his life.

((This requires a little editing, i'll do it myself soon unless someone else does it first. This was written for an English class, so it's a bit watered down.))