Biography (Really fucking edgy) Edit
- Name: James Morris
- Nickname: Big Chungus
- Age: 198
- Sex: Male
- Blood Line: part wolf, part mech, part rabbit, part fox, part sunglasses, part dragon, part dad, all dad, all knives
- Birth Date: 04/20
- Birth Place: Amber Mill
- Current Residence: Darkshire
- Guild/Orders: The Reapers, The Nemesis, Kirin Tor
- Occupation: Dart Arts Magister
- Hobbies/Pastimes: Studying Magic, Cooking, Tailoring, Reading
- Talents/Skills/Powers in Magic: Homosexuality, Rune Master, Pyromancer, Shadowmancer, Blood Magister, Fel Magister, Ritualist, Demonologist.
- Birth Order: Drakion, Vincent
- Family: Mother (Dead) Carol Darksoul, Father (Alive) Glenn Darksoul 'Aka Adrire', Brother (Alive) Vincent 'Aka Linoge', Wife (Alive) Anneh Darksoul, Daughter(Newly Born) Sayla
Short Summary SynopsisEdit
- He fucks like a broken train, but he always runs on time, if you know what I mean. He is a fairly reserved man, just calm and laid back. In most of his ways, he does what he pleases in a direct, assertive manner and always places his own freedom above all else. His cool is easily maintain, but after the high threshold has been snapped, he snaps in to a blind, bestial rage. One most noticeable features is through years of enduring it, he has developed a Sadistic and Masochist side to himself which bleeds into his view of life itself. He has a very strong willpower and will fight to achieve his goal by any means necessary. He strongly believes in the Dark Arts and allow this belief to consume him, allowing himself to live 'in the darkness'. He finds it extremely difficult to trust anyone. Those who have the rare chance to see his hidden characteristics would be the ones who he trust or he thinks 'worthy' of his trust. His partner/wife would be one of the few who you see this softer side of him, past the cold heart and stoic eyes.
- Scornix appears to be in his mid twenties. His body is slender and muscles that hold little to no curve being so small, being quite unimpressive. His hair is one of the few things up-kept by himself, always being straight and clean. The hair's length reaches roughly right at his waist, contains no tone and utterly absent of all color. His skin is quite pale, untouched by sunlight, with runic markings carved into his flesh by dagger and sealed by magical means. His right eye is an azure blue, being his human one, and his left is a demonic red, being his demonic one. His tail mimics the tone of his skin, being even more so pale and is often wrapped around his waist and adoren with a silver ring near the base, the inner band being inscribed with 'Hers', placed there by Anneh.
- Height: 5ft 11in.
- Weight: 155 lb.
- Build: Medium
- Skin: Dead White
- Hair: Dead White
- Eyes: Faded Azure Blue (Right Eye), Blood Red(Left Eye)
- Tattoos/Scars?: Covered in curse glyphs from shoulders to feet.
- Glasses/Contacts?: No
- Left/Right handed?: Right
- Distinguishing features: Skin and hair as pale as the dead.
- How does s/he dress: Dark or Gothic mostly, sometimes casual.
- Jewelry: Crossed twin scythe amulet.
- Other accessories: Blade of Madness (Sword of Horrid Dreams) Soul Harvestor (Scythe) SoulBane (Runeblade and Scythe fused).
- Mannerisms: Very clear speech and good grammar.
- Health: That of a demon's, so very healthy ideally.
- Speech Patterns: Has a unqiue accent when his demonic habits come into play and often a wispy tone to his speech.
- Voice: Partically deep and sturdy. Demonic when angry. Wispy when calm
- Style (Elegant, shabby, etc): Loose/uptight/stylish partially.
Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes and AttitudesEdit
- Intelligence Level: High
- Known Languages: Common, Demonic and small proficiencies in other demonic and elemental languages.
- Character's long-term goals/desires in life: Have a family and find happiness.
- Character's short-term goals/desires in life: Discover more that that dark arts are capable of.
- How self-confident is the character?: Medium
- How does Character see him/herself?: A man with a rough past, now searching to find he happiness he lost and reclaim it. Believes himself too be worth very little in times of depression.
- How does Character believe s/he is perceived by others?: Believes he is hated by many for his half demon exsistance.
- How does Character express themself?: He prefers actions over words in the end.
- Is this character generally dominant or submissive?: Both depending on situation but mostly dominant.
- Patience level: Generally high.
- Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof?: About half of each, he is a logical man, but like most, his emotions can get the better of him.
- How does the character view life?: The most precious gift given too us.
- How does the character view death?: The end, you must find peace with yourself before you may pass, or you will never sleep peacefully in the next life.
- Most at ease when: Around good company on a dark, moon lit night.
- Ill at ease when: When bitched at by women he knows well.
- Describe their sense of humor: Very subtle.
- Character/Personality/Mental/Social Strengths: Strong will powered, hard to break, always willing to step up and take upon himself to do a task, keeps a good "poker" face.
- Character/Personality/Mental/Social Flaws: When pushed in a certain that can anger him, he has an extremely violent temper.
- Biggest Vulnerability (non physical): Insulting his mother or deceased wife or some times lover.
- Optimist or Pessimist: Optimistic.
- Introvert or extrovert: in between.
- Greatest Fear: To die before he has achieved peace of heart/true happiness.
- Other Fears/Insecurities/Phobias: Death of close friends.
- Peculiarities: Him and his demon sometimes talk to each other openly. (JINCHURIKI!!!)
- Biggest regret: Murdering his mother, breaking away from his daughter (Feeria).
- Biggest accomplishment: Atonement of the years of the Reaper
- Minor accomplishments: His own curses (Darksoul, Oversoul, etc).
- Musical talents/instruments: Ocarina
- Secret desires: To find forbidden and lost dark arts, Feline-type festish.
- Character's darkest secret: The attempt to revive there mother, sent his brother into the Twisting Nether. Believes to have killed the first woman he ever loved when he destroyed the cathedral he trained in as a child.
- Minor Secrets: He knows how to play Ocarina, has many, many curses in testing stages, allergic to rabbits/bunnies and bees.
Relationships with othersEdit
- Loves: Lorrune(Presume deceased), Anastaja (Deceased), Trinitey (Deceased), Sairia (Alive), Liywar(Alive), Anneh (Alive)
- Crushes: N/A
- Lover(s): Anneh
- Best Friends: Ever Changing
- Friends: Ever Changing
- Hates: Father
- Dislikes: Ever Changing
- Rivals: Ever Changing
- Pets: Black king snake, Pengu, demon minions, phoenix
- Sexuality: Straight.
- How does s/he view other people or society?: Disappointed in the closed mindedness .
- Is the character judgmental of others and how so?: Not very.
- How is s/he perceived by...
- Strangers?: "Hes a demon! He's bad!"
- Friends?: "Heya Drakion."
- Wife/Husband/Lover?: "If you stop me from from tearing of your clothing, i'll burn them."
- What happens to change this perception if at all?: The ability of the other to accept his demonic side.
- What type of people does s/he like or associate with?: Dark Art Practitioners, open minded.
- What type of people does s/he not like or associate with?: Light users, closed minded.
- What do family/friends like most about character?: He is helpful, courteous, and respectful.
- What do family/friends like least about character?: His demonic side.
- Likes: Dark Arts, the moons, fire, poetry.
- Dislikes: "The Light", The Burning Legion.
Favorite: The Dark Arts.Edit
- Color: Blue
- Clothing: Gothic
- Place: Gathering places of Dark Art practitioners, tall hills to see the sky easily, beaches.
- Food: Beef Jerky
- Music: Soothing, rhythmical, soft, and blissful.
- Song: N/A.
- Book: His own journal.
- Historical figure: Any greater Dark Art practitioner.
- Animal: Felhound
Least Favorite: "The Light".Edit
- Color: Pink
- Clothing: Bright
- Place: Well lit, very open.
- Food: Strawberries, Cherries
- Music: N/A.
- Animal: Bunnies/Rabbits.
- Simple Pleasures: The moon, soft music, dim lit house, fire.
- Greater Pleasures: Poetry, discussions of the dark arts, to be alone with his lover.
- Most prized possession: His Grimore.
- Why?: It is linked to his soul, if it is destroyed, he dies too, as well as it contains his life story and about everything and anything that he knows, (Basically it is himself on paper).
- Describe character's sense of morals: Ensure his own survival
- Describe character's etiquette: Very agreeable, lets his mind be spoken, blunt criticism.
- How does this character act in public?: Very blunt and straight forward in his words. Unless with friends, then his softer side is exposed for them alone.
- How does this character act at home?: Workaholic, mainly upon his own dark arts.
- How has this character most changed from childhood?: Turn from innocence to the dark arts, scared from the death of his mother, it tainted his mind.
- How have they remained the same?: Parental behavior such as his mother.
- How does this character deal with or react to...
- Anger: "Calm down!"
- Sadness: "It's alright, I'm here, i'll do what ever I can to help, so don't worry."
- Conflict/Danger: "I'm getting to old for this shit." *Prepares to fight*
- Fear: "N-n-no!"
- Change: "Eh... alright."
- Loss: "Damn it."
- Homosexuality: "Wow... that was... different?"
- Pain: "Gah!... grrr... yah... don't stop yet, i've only begun to enjoy myself."
- Stress/Pressure: "Shush! I'm trying to bloody concentrate!"
- Guilt: "Why... whats wrong with me damn it."
- Being wrong: "Alright, I apologize."
- Being criticized: *Listens with a soft grunt.* "Grr.. all right, fine."
- Praise: "I'm not worth it so stop wasting your energy."
- Love: *Loving smile*
- Being hated: "I'm sorry, but I can't change the past."
- Public Humiliation: *Soft grunt and walks away*
- What does the character want out of life?: A family to spend his life with.
- What would the character like to change in his/her life?: The death of his mother and first wife.
- What motivates this character?: To make the life of other's better than his own, to see happiness in other's faces.
- Why?: He never wants anyone to have the past he did or make his mistakes.
- What discourages this character?: When he remembers his greater mistakes in life.
- Why?: He sees himself very low in worth to the world.
- What most describes this character's personality?: A dark man that in his own best intrest with no regard to what other's think.
- Religion: None
- Does the character believe in a god or goddess?: Yes
- What are the character's spiritual beliefs?: He believes the gods to hate him and he hates them back.
- Is religion or spirituality a part of this character's life?: No
- If so, what role does it play?: N/A
- Superstitions: "We are all but play things for the Gods. Damn them all."
- "The Bane of Souls." - The words Drakion spoke and the title he bestowed upon his scythe when forged.
- This weapon's origins are unknown other than Glenn Darksoul, his father, originally possessed the weapon until stolen by the Dark Magisters that taught Drakion in his youth. Carried by the young half-demon most his life, it is a trademark of his appearance and self proclaimed 'extention of his right arm', being he predominantly holds it in that hand. Originally it was but a mere scythe when first obtain by Drakion, but in his later years, he fused the shards of his shattered runic blade, Deathbane, into his scythe, Soul Harvester, forging the newly empowered 'Soulbane'. Binding his very soul to the scythe, it has become his most prized possession, even speaking to it as if it were alive.
- Soulbane is a large Runic Scythe that obeys Drakion alone, unless attuned such as his wife, Anneh and his daughter Sayla. In length it is between five and six feet long, from the furthest tips. The most noticeable characteristic is the blade's appearance to be 'dripping'. This 'dripping' effect is caused by the uncounted souls trapped within the blade of the scythe. Runically enchanted with frost, a cold mist constantly surrounds the blade and a noticeable chill in surrounding air. The scythe contains the main source of Drakion's energies, the souls of the fallen. With the death of every victim, he stores there soul within the scythe's chilling blade. Drakion is capable of controlling the scythe's movements once empowered with the runes carved into it, causing it to roughly move as he may will for a short period. Seemingly as he is spiritually bound to the scythe itself, he is capable of summoning it to his hands as he wills with limited effort. An unnoticeable side effect is that Drakion himself is capable of 'listening' to the 'whispers' of the scythe. The 'voice' of the scythe is yet to even be completely determine by Drakion, yet he seems to treat it as a being of itself. The scythe also acts as a soulstone for Drakion, as long as the scythe remains intact, in death, Drakion is more likely to survive. As time passes, Drakion has and continues to learn more methods and uses for Soulbane.
(Work in progress)
Imp - Piztog (Even has his own TGC. http://wowtcgdb.com/images/medium/piztog.jpg)
Voidwalker - Jhazrath
Succubus - Nazatia
Felhunter - Khaanom
Infernals - (Unnamed)
Doomguard - (Unnamed)
Chapter 1 - The BeginningEdit
Drakion and his brother Vincent were spawn from their father, Glenn and their mother Carol in the town of Ambermill. Their mother was left to raise them on her own as she left Glenn shortly after he began to become so deeply involved in his work, she believe him to begin to go insane. Glenn went as far as using his own newborn child, Drakion as the subject of his next experiment, planting an unknown spirit at the time, into the body of a child to see what it would grow into. As he grew up, he was a happy-go-lucky boy and was as optimistic and cheerful as they come, the demon within him was known only to his mother, visible only by his single red eye and abnormally large fangs. Drakion's childhood was short lived as the first time he was taken control of by the demon came to. With dagger in hand, he thrust it into her back, impaling the heart and bringing his mother to her knees. She passed quickly in the little boy's arms at the mere age of 12. All he could do is simply watch as his mother's dying breath left her lips. "Why did you...Drakion..."
Once the demon's voice had pasted through his mind and free once more, he left the home with only one thing influencing him, the demon's whispers in his mind. "Embrace the darkness... do not allow these humans to turn you soft... only once you have allowed it to swallow you, may you truly have the power you desire." With his brother following blindly, no other family to turn to, the two brothers set off into the unknown, Drakion in chaos and despair of his mother's death by his own hands.
Chapter 2 - "Embrace the Darkness"Edit
Drakion stumbled upon a cathedral shortly after the death of his mother. Occupied by Dark Art Practitioners, the voice pressed him on. Once at the gates, the adepts quickly saw the look in his eyes, the pain that consumed him. As they brought him in, they treated him graciously, as most of them, he could relate too, they all found a shallow sanctum within the darkness. He quickly pressed on to become an initiate and so they allowed.
For the next 7 years Drakion under toke the training of the dark arts and it was quickly discovered that he seem to have a gift in his ability to command these forces of darkness, surpassing all above him quickly, initiates, adepts, journeymen and so forth. One day in the training, he was called aside and brought forth the High Magister, there he was explain that a man of similar ability as him had be encountered several times and matched Drakion's description of his father. They explain to him of his murderous ways and unexplainable powers that surpassed many of the magisters of that time that stood in his path. All though in a group's attempt to fight him, one managed to relinquish his right arm and with it, a scythe. He then presented it to Drakion as it was only right for him to wield his father's blade. Once the meeting ended, Drakion left and was now fueled by a new...force, a hatred and spite that ingite within him, he must end his Father's life.
Through the years, Drakion was never satisfied with his power he had obtain, he lust for more in order to face his father one day. Against the will of the Concil of the cathedral, he snuck into a forbidden library and from it, removed several books that peeked his interest. He went into his room and for weeks he was locked in with no communication other than a "Leave me -ALONE-!" to those who knocked on the door. Drakion studied these books and through it began his school of Runeology. Combining all of his knowlege, he forged a curse that he would cast upon himself, within glyphs that he would carve into his own flesh. It would allow him to intake vast amounts of energy at once, but due to the high instability of energies surging through his body, it would disrupt connections to his spirit and render him nearly emotionless. He named his creation "The Curse of Darksoul" As the whereabouts of the books became aware and the noises and lights coming from Drakion's room became apparent, they attempted to break down his door, to be met by the earlier years of "The Reaper"
That night, only Drakion walked away from the demolished cathedral alive... he set out to murder his father, Glenn.
Chapter 3 - "Of all the names I have been given... one stands out the most to me... Big Chungus."Edit
Drakion persisted for 174 years in his 'cursed' form, he came upon town and villages, leveling them in his path, feeling little pity, little care and little compassion for the innocent, only fueled by the thought of his father. Every soul he gathered, every life he would slay, empowered him, siphon into his scythe and continuously built a terrifying power within it. His appearance mimicked that of the Grim Reaper himself and with the lives he had disposed of, he was quickly named "The Reaper".
One day he stumbled upon news that spread quickly, the death of a man described exactly that of his father, came to his ears. As word passed by him, he too found out the name of the man who accomplished the deed, Malfion Dragonheart. With no more reason to press on, he blindly move forward to find the man who took the life of his father. One day he finally followed word to the man's supposed grave where a young weeping elven lady was knelt down pouring her heart out upon the dirt he lay under according to the tome stone. He asked the elf the reason for her tears and heard in return a story of the deepest and ever so consuming love they held, the be wed the following week. Through the ritual and walls that shielded his heart, these words pierced those walls above all, warming the little bit of humanity and sanity left inside the soul of the man.
Drakion enlighten her that the materials and artifacts she possessed of his would be sufficient to revive him and proceeded to do so. As the magics finished and all was done, the man was reborn in a new body. Once kissing his fiancee, he looked to the man with a genuine smile and spoke. "I owe you my life Lord Drakion... I thank you, I Neverine Dragonblood, now reborn, give you my life to fight beside you when ever you may call upon me."
With the deed done, Drakion set off to discover these feelings of 'love' and 'devotion' he had felt in there presence on his own... but first he had to break his curse.
Chapter 4 - "A Light Within the Darkness?" Trinitey's Eternal MemoryEdit
Drakion set out on his venture to break his curse and to find and experience these warm emotions he had forsaken for the 174 years he'd remain cursed. Eventually he stumbled upon this one woman a week after the crash of the Exodar, saving her from a raid of pillagers. She was a mid-aged Draenei shaman, quite wise in her arts, her name, Trinitey. In return for her life he'd saved, she offered a way to remove his curse. In shock that she was capable of doing it, he accepted it and for a month, they gathered the necessary reagents and eventually decursed him essentially. It would only be in a matter of days that two continue to remain by each other's sides and she continue to assist Drakion as he attempted to 're-educate' himself on emotions and expressions.
As the two's love blossum, one morning she would find herself gazing down at a ring in a box, held by Drakion upon one knee, and the next standing beside him upon the alter, taking his last name. In the near future, they would soon find themselves saving the life of a child from cultist intent on sacrificing her. The following day they agreed to adopt her as Drakion always wanted a daughter. They named the 12 year old Draenei, Feeria.
The following day, the two were on a visit to Westfall beach where they were quickly caught off guard by the same cultist they lacked to kill off completely the previous day. Drakion prepared to do what must be done, but was halted by his wife. She urged them to cease the fighting and talk it over as enough blood had been split between the two. As she finished, a deathly silence consumed the scene. The leader step forward, his hand gripped a hidden revolver and with no hesitation, no words, only the sound of he hammer contacting the metal was heard in Drakion's mind as he watched her skull have a bullet fly through the cavity and warm blood splash his face, her corpse hitting the ground and the sand soaking up the off-worldly blood. Only a moment after the man and group turn away as Drakion stood in an upraising sorrow, speaking. "Now you know what it feels like... so suffer." The group then faded into the horizon as the pain consumed Drakion, in words he still, up to this day, describe it in.
Soon following her her death, Drakion placed Feeria in the care of an old hermit and fell back into the darkness, leaving everything and anything he had behind. The familiar dark voice whispering to him as he vanished, until he would reemerge.
Chapter 5 - "Only Those Who Walk in the Darkness, May Only Walk Together." Sairia's Quiet Chapter.Edit
For three years Drakion shun himself from humanity, pushing away the only catalyst that could possibly bring him any closer to 'sane' or 'humane'. He continued his age old acts of studying the forbidden Dark Arts. Curses, rituals, incantations, afflictions and indescribable works of madness. The all consuming darkness that he allow to envelop him, in a fear or possible insecurity, wouldn't rise. No act of a human would reach his mind, no opinion or thought that could persuade him, but that of his own 'brood', his fellow walkers of Darkness.
It was a moonlit night, in the foggy trails of Duskwood. He walked silently, the only sound but the wind brushing against his pale ears from beneath his shadowy hood. There would be a sudden ferocious growl, pour from the trees in a small path through the God forsaken woods. He stood in thought for a moment but quickly decided to investigate the source, perhaps a soul to capture or two, free of labor. He pierced the dark wall of trees and continued casually but curiously into the source of the sound.
Once Drakion arrived, he stumbled upon an injured girl. He hair was pulled back into a ponytail and pale white, like his own. Her eyes were tinted with a brilliant green that resembled the very fel energy he wielded. She was adorn with a purple robe that was simple and two black stripe running from her shoulders to the base. Her hands were stain with blood, as well as her robes. She'd fought a pack of worgen that seem to have attacked quickly and viciously. She still stood against a small pack, killing a portion of them all ready, as could be told by the bodies that liter the untamed grass. Drakion would see this young girl in danger and by only the arts that she quickly revealed she wielded, he step forward to intercept the assaults that encroached upon her.
As the worgen ran up for there final approach upon the girl, they would be quickly met by a spontaneous ring of fame around there prey. The girl look around slowly, seeming to be little to not phased at all. She would quickly spot Drakion upon the hill above her, his hands lit with writhing flames. The worgen quickly fell back at the quickly advancing flames that spread form there prey. Wounded and quickly thinned from there starting numbers, they ran into a nearby cave and nothing was heard of them soon after. The two warlocks locked eyes from afar. they both seem to hold a familiar 'stoic' expression that Drakion himself wore often.
Once Drakion had reached close quarters, he would speak softly. "How are your wounds?" He waited for a response but the girl simply stared and proceeded to lean down and grip her bag that she'd dropped earlier, placing it on her shoulder. She looked to him and nod as she walked around him silently without a word, slightly limping. Drakion gripped her arm lightly as she step by him. "Your bleeding. They should be mended with fire or fel." She stop for a moment, to look back at him in the eyes once more, silently staring into his fel lit eyes. She spoke no words, merely move foward and out of his grip, Drakion offering no resistance. She would quickly be lost sight of. Drakion then turn to return to his path, walking towards Raven Hill.
Upon reaching Raven Hill he would have a chance meeting with the girl once more. She seem to be sat down on a bench, wrapping her wounds with runecloth. Drakion push himself up the hill, reaching her her spoke once more. He sat down beside her, the silent eyes rose to meet his' once more. Drakion reached up to pull his hood down and then grip the wound without a word and igniting his hand into a firey blaze, cauterizing the wound without warning. He eyes winced intensely as she attempted to pull her arm away, Drakion held it tightly for a brief moment then released it once sure the wound was sealed. He then spoke in the same soft tone as she held her wound with her hands, massaging it gently with narrowed eyes. "Don't be so careless next time." She shook her head in a careless manner and reached into her bag to reveal a book on dabling in the Dark Arts. She then scoot next to him on the bench and lean on him as she open the book and began to read silently. Drakion was baffled by this unpredictable action. He merely look between her and the book then softly sighed as he decided to stay and sit by the odd girl who wouldn't speak.
As hours past like years, Drakion somehow managed to muster his age old patience long enough for her to finally shut the book and tuck it in her bag. She looked up at him and as unpredictable as before, she spoke in a young, soft voice, "Thank you. My name is Sairia Runewind. Good night." He lips faintly resembled a smile as she stood up and walked off without any gesture or word. Drakion's brow quirked as he was unable to comprehend this personality he'd encountered. He sighed as he watched her walked off into the mist, he'd seemed comforted by the girl's presence, a comfort he'd not felt in years. He pressed on to town, where he would spend the night at for the reminder of the day.
At the break of dawn, Drakion would awake and quickly gather his belongings while pondering the last night's happenings in his head over and over. As he descended the stairs, the girl sat on the railing, read but another book. He rub his eyes at the rare sight and after a moment of thought he approached her and gently tap her thigh. She lowered the book and offered the same faint smile from the night past before looking back to her book. Drakion blinked once as he sighed again in confusion. He would approach the fire pit and take a seat by the warm, inviting fire while he awoke from his slumber still. As his eyes closed he felt something nudge up to him, upon opening his eyes, he would see the girl once more by his side, reading a book, leaning on his shoulder. He parted his lisp to speak but did not, instead her merely closed his eyes and lean his head on the mantle, resuming his rest. After that all he would feel is her slender arm wrap around his and resume reading. It would soon become a warm seed in his cold heart.
As time pasted, the two would quickly grow fond of one another. Sairia was quiet the quiet type, which Drakion grew happy with, he'd always been happy to sit in silence. For months past, the two warlocks grew ever closer and love spawn inside his cold heart once more, the warmth that was sucked away had return. Nights went by and the two would share the immortal pleasures of physically indulging in on another's body and even offering her a ring for her heart. Engaged to her, he would be in a place of warmth and fulfilling happiness once more that unknowingly would turn into an unending pain that would stay for him for eternity.
Upon a cold night, under the watchful White Lady in the sky, the two warlocks shared each other's warmth and bonfire before them, by the lake of Elwynn Forest. The silence would be broken by the piercing explosion of gunpowder behind them and the water ahead of them splashing wildly, a bullet had flew past them. They jump to there feet, flames igniting spontaneously upon there fingertips, finding that they had been quietly surrounded by humans and dwarfs with swords and rifles. "Ye' got quite eh fat bounty on ye' head there, boy. I'm a not leavin with out it." A dwarf spoke from the ground, quickly followed by the laughter of the others. Drakion halfway step forward to begin his advance on the men, only to be met with Sairia's arm holding him back. She spoke in a manner he'd never heard, a loud firm tone. "Lower your weapons and turn around, bounty hunters. No one will be walking away with his head tonight." They laughed loudly and hysterically at her response as the riflemen rose there guns to meet her. "Dumb, daft, lass. Ye' shut up and get out of our way, girl." As she parted her lips she would be met with an entourage of bullets that would echo through the woods with a defining silence that followed.
After the sound had ceased, Sairia would fall from her stance and onto her back, dead before impact, leaded with lead and gunpowder. Though the impact of her small body was all but unheard, it was like a thousand screams of agony to Drakion's ears. He stared upon her silently as the men had begun to reload there guns. His face showed the grief that swallowed his body. For that moment all that remained of Drakion's warmth, siphoned from his heart and those cold, shadow tranced eyes fell upon the group with the silent rage of a hundred souls driven to the edge of incomprehensible madness. The flame that danced at his finger tips no longer merely touched his hands, but spread like a plague around him like an unending fountain. He rose his arms to point at the men with one word rolling off his shaking rage shaken tongue. "Di---e--..." He said in a deathly whisper. Explosions ignite from every inch of flames that surround the area. Flames consume the men and ignite there flesh and clothing, they resembled fire flies in a dark field, running freely, engulfed in flames. As for the remaining men, greenish-yellow fel mist jolted from his arms and wrapped to there heads, pouring into there nostrils, ears and mouths. The fel energy slowly ate away at there innards, allowing them to melt from there body and onto the desecrated black grass. The screams that filled the air echoed through the forest, easily alerting the guards.
By the time the guards would arrive, they would find nothing but half decomposed, fel ridden body and burnt flesh. After a moment of searching, they would also find the body of Sairia in the place she'd fallen dead. Drakion had left, once more, engulfed by the hatred of humanity and all of the warmth that once filled him, gone with the lives of the men he'd murdered that night. Drakion walked into the cold night, alone and followed by that familiar darkness.
Chapter 6 - "So Remember Who We are and Tell All you See - We Come With Vengeance, Stand Before Us or Flee." The Birth of the Reapers. Anastaja's Chapter and the Death of a Daugther.Edit
Chapter 7 - "If I Must Choose Between Her and Azeroth, I Choose Her." The Rise and Fall of Dark JudgementEdit
Chapter 8 - "It Shall Have to Suffice, Though Only the Skull of Sargaras is an Adequate Alter for my Devil." The Revelation of a Dark Spirit and the True Half-Demon, The Devils' Wedding. Edit
Chapter 9 - The Birth of a Child, "She has your eyes and my... tail." Edit
Chapter 10 - Drakion's Final Days and Last Stand. Edit
Part 1 - Anneh's Disappearance Edit
Drakion awoke from his slumber, running claws down his pale scared cheeks. As he push the sheets back, letting the night air roll down his runic skin. Looking about the room and discovering Anneh missing, he quietly rose. Taking only a moment to insure Sayla was sleeping soundly he traveled the keep in search of Anneh. When he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs he was quickly confronted with the blood stain upon the wall. His right hand rose to run along the blood, reading the message very carefully.
"Drakion my love... I always said you could sleep through the end of the world, and so you have. All the wardens are gone, and I go after them. A portal to gods knows where.. Demein office.. research the remaining energies.. Raise Sayla to know her mother loved her.. and you. -Ann"
As the message rolled through his mind, he very quickly took the blood and sniffed it,then proceeded to taste it upon his demonic senses.... it was Anneh's. He slammed his hand into the wall in a furious rage. "DAMN IT!" He took no time in dressing his legs and rolling the shadows around him for his dark clothing.
As he ran down the stairs, he gripping his blood stone, -screaming- into it. "ANNEH!" .... A short pause... "ANNEH?! ANYONE?!"..... a short pause.... no answer. "ANSWER ME DAMN IT!" He let out a muffled scream as he tucked it away, running to Sayla.
Grabbing Sayla, he rushes back through the Keep as he headed for Demein's office., thoughts running through his mind 'Why? Where? That damned woman!'. All he could do is curse in his mind as he strolled to the door of Demein's Office.
Upon arrival, he doesn't even take the time to notice the claw marks in the door frame, instead his eyes scan the room. Everything looked as if a battle had taken place and furniture shattered. Drakion slowly drop to his knees, looking upon the scene, his eyes shaking in concern. His voice held a familiar fear within it, the one fear above all, 'she has to be alive!' ran through his mind a million times. He pulled Sayla to his chest as his head lean down to hold her silently in a tight grasp. "We're going to find our Anneh, Sayla.... and when we do... we'll kill her ourselves." He whispered to her softly.
After a moment of solace, Drakion rose to his feet, it was time to begin his work, he had to find the source and once he had found it, he would be that much closer to finding Anneh. As he pick up debris, charged by the tremendous Arcane energy it has come in contact with, he narrowed his eyes, examining it. He places it within his pocket and turns to the door with Sayla, walking out slowly as he murmured to himself.
"I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life."
Drakion left the keep that night, the search had begun.
Part 2 - From Bad to Worse. Edit
Drakion sat at the table of the house he once had a family... Sayla sat upon the ground, just behind him, playing with her trinkets and toys upon a play mat. Drakion continue to continue his relentless search of the source of the portal's power.
He knew the arcane's signiture somehwere somehow, he'd felt this from somewhere, a warden... but they were all gone. He'd searched the Keep, every house... they were all gone. His head plop down upon the table, the fatigue was pushing down upon him like chains, he'd not slept since that day he lost Anneh, even 'immortal demons' need sleep he soon found out.
He sighed heavily as he spoke softly. "I'm going to find mommy Sayla... I promise..." Even if he had said this to her countless times, it was the only words he could think of. Sayla looked up at Drakion with her big green, faintly fel tainted eyes. She began to laugh childishly and clap her hands together.Drakion's lips curve to a soft smile as the child's laughter was his one pillow to this agonizing pain and fautigue.
As Drakion had drift off to a soft slumber, unable to hold his eyes open any longer, there was a rough knock upon the door down stairs. A voice projected and echoed in his house. "This is the Royal Guard, we have a search Warrent for this house. Open the door, or we will be forced to break it down."
Part 3 - Ambush! Edit
A loud crashing noise echoed from the bottem level as the door is broke down. A stoic demon's last words run through Drakion's head as he awoke, his void walker that was watchigng the door, "Master, they come...for... you----....." Men rushed in his house, commands raising from there voices, "Upstairs! Take the the Half-Breed Warlock alive for questioning!"
Drakion jumped from his seat, reguardless of the fautgiue that had taken over his body. His left palm slam into a runic pattern ajacent to the stair case. As a single Demonic chant rolled off his tongue, the stairs would ignite in vicious flames, holding the guards at bay. "Damn it! What is this?!" He growled to himself as he turn his head to the sound of hooks flying over his balcony's rails, guards were pulling themselfs up ropes and on to his balcony.
As the first guard had climbed over, he was met with an intense bolt of flame, smashing into his plated helm and sending him flying back down. His screams echoing through Ironforge as music to Drakion, unfortunatly he had no time to enjoy it. As he had stepped on to the balcony, he pulled the hooks of the railing before more guards had time to climb up.
Looking down at the regiment of guards at his front door over the balcony, his eyes widen in a quickening fear... not for himself, but for his daughter... why were his allies trying to take him? Right as The thought of Sayla's safety rushed through his mind, her cries ring in his ears from behind him like shattering glass. He jolts around, seeing her in the arms of a Mage, surrounded in an armor of frost magic. Drakion's eyes burst into a demonic frenzy as he sends himself flying at the mage, a palm filled with a spell, ready to contact his face and blow it clean off. As his hand was but mere inches away, the figure would spontaniously flash and be gone from view.
He turn around once more, after gaining his stance roughly, watching the mage leap off the balcony, he'd blinked past Drakion. "SAYLA!" He -screamed- at the top of his lungs as he charges pass the table, gripping a bag filled with something sounding like glass within it... without hesitation, he leaps onto the railing, looking down at the mage rushing for a nearby portal. Drakion bends his legs and pushes with every ounce of willpower he had, flying off the balcony and right into the middle of the guards, where the mage rushed for the portal.
Every second became a minute as Drakion fell to what was seemingly certain death.... but as a father, that didn't even go through his mind... his hands lit in the flames of undying pissed off demonic fatherly rage. "SAYLA!" He screamed out at the top of his lungs as he was but two feet from the mage the target with his child, was mere inches from the portal.
Part 4 - A Broken Man... or Demon? Edit
Drakion, with all of the might and speed he'd mustered, slammed into the ground full force.... rolling along the ground, his body scrapping roughly along Ironforge's hot walkways. He was too late... too late to save his wife and too late to save his daughter... thats all that he could comprehend while sliding to the ridge of the hole between the walkways in front of his house. (The massive long holes inbetween the walkways all in Ironforge.)
Falling off the ridge and falling down... lifelessly, tears raising from his eyes as they couldn't keep up with the speed of his decent into the dark corriders beneath Ironforge. "Is it over? Have the Gods finally won? Have I finally reached my limit?...." Doubt consumed his mind and a bliss began to raise... "Can I finally give up... stop fighting?"... As his eyes began to close... as he apporached the end... the sight of the end in view...
Drakion's eyes broke open as a faint child's voice broke through the walls of his mind... she was crying... it... it was Sayla. He could hear her crying... hear her calling out for her mother... her first words. He remembered of a necklace of a crimson orb he'd placed around her neck, much like the Warden's Orb. She was alive!
The Troops rushed to the edge of the ledge, looking down... "He's to dangerous! Finish him and collect the cor--" As the commander's words are halt by streams of dark arcane energy flowing into the revene, arcs of arcane jolt through the walls around the figure of the falling Half-Demon... His eyes grew wide as the collection of the energy was such a spetacluar show of magic... it was frightening. "By me own beard... DESTORY HIM!" He roared out for his mages and rifle men to fire into the revene.
"I now understand Father... why you walked into the gates of Oblivion... why you crossed the line between Mortality and the Eternal Darkness. In order to achieve your goal... your dream... your oath... you must be willing to cross the line, to not look back. I was afaird of two things... losing my family and passing into the gate of Oblivion, into the Eternal Darkness. But in order to achieve one, I must achieve the second one first. May you forgive me my love... I must cross into the gates and I may never return..."
As bullets and bolts of fire and frost fire by Drakion nearly hitting there point, his claws reach for the bag upon his arm, reaching in and retrieving the shards containing a very ancient cursed soul... the soul shards of a Nathrezim.
As he pressed the shards to his chest, his eyes closed and the runic incantations that aere inscribed into his flesh and body begin to radiate brightly.... "I shall walk through the Gates of Darkness... for you."
Part 5 - Into the Gates of Oblivion. Edit
The Stormwind Military. To become a soldier is to be the 'greatest honor' one can achieve in the great capital. To fight with sword, rifle or magic in hand, for the glory and protection of Stormwind. Younglings flood the recruitment offices in hopes of becoming heros or fulfilling childhood dreams. More matured and age worn civilians go for there families and friends, to protect what they love. All go in high hopes to save so many, or fight to slay many who dare oppose there great civilization of Stormwind. Perhaps the hardest job of all that one soldier must preform, the recruitment officer. The one that must look down upon all these 'fresh blood' and know in his mind that perhaps not even half of them will live to share there stories of 'glory' or 'honor'. Twas there fate... and fate is a cruel and unusual mistress.
Arose from the ravine of Ironforge, arcs of tainted demonic energies wrapped and wry to the ledges, as if arms pulling up the 'beast' from within. The soldiers fell back from the ledges as the terrifying display of untamed energies unfold before them. The soldiers step back carefully with weapon in hand, ready to defend themselves while the recruits either quiver in fear, covered in there own sweat or turn and run as every ounce of hope or courage they held was torn from them by the sight of the 'beast' that rose from the ravine.
As the cocoon of twisted demonic energies finally reached a mid height from the ground, the arcs of arcane began to twist and strike unpredictably and unstably, quickly causing wide-spread damage around it and to the soldiers beneath. Two blood crimson orbs shine brightly within the greenish-yellow energies as a booming demonic cry filled the halls--
[Demonic]: Rakir mak RAKIR! (Common: Blood for BLOOD!)
Just as the 'beast's' voice had nearly began to snap the last strand of hope, the Dwarven Commander's voice met the Demon's head on as his battle cry clashed with his'.
"SOLDIERS! FOR KHAZ MODAN!"
Rifles loaded, magics began to summon to there command and shields held tight.
His command is cut short as the swirling cocoon shatters with an enormous blinding light and a shockwave from the shift of energies, to intense to initially take in with there eyes.
The Dwarven commander the previous day... he sat in front of his fire at home, one of his two children on both of his knees. He told them of tales of his previous glories and honors. The two children looked up to there father, there 'biggest hero' of all. Once the children had fallen to sleep, he lay to rest in his bed with his wife beside him, as they tangled together, he spoke of his memories of there wedding day, one of the most grandest weddings of Ironforge.
Once they had finished, making there love to one another, they drifted into there slumber, he needed his rest as for the next day, the King of Stormwind would be giving him an order to find and take down a man known as 'Drakion Glenn Darksoul'. He was going to find the man, and fulfill his orders, so that he may have another story to tell his children, another reason to drink to his victory with his fellow soldiers. He had it all in his mind of what tomorrow would bring... if tomorrow came.
As the light settled, the soldiers rose there eyes back to the 'beast'.
Before they could make out his form, there attention if pulled away from a single medic screaming in horror. They all gazed upon the Dwarf, back pressed to the side of the house, the massive frost scythe protruding from the wall, through his head. Yes... fate was indeed a cruel and unusual mistress indeed.
As they finally turn up to face the 'beast', to bare witness to the creature who so mercilessly murdered there commanding officer... slim long horns rose form his forehead and wrapped over his head, pointing upward at the tips... black wings large enough to block out the sun, hands with monstrous claws, topped with demonic armor-like hide... Feet similar to bird-like demonic talons... two large protruding fangs craving for the taste of life and two large crimson orbs that shine with the color of blood itself. One veteran mutters a single familiar name that comes from memory long ago...
"Scornix... the Reaper."
Part 6 - "A Deal with the Devil." Edit
"Those who make a deal with the Devil, rarely live to tell of it."
Drakion yelled ferociously at the young apprentice, attempting to teach him.
"No, we are not like the rest, we do not take power that is given to us. Some may, but they are the weakest. They are the ones who give up there own soul, there own humanity, everything that makes them who they are."
The young apprentice turn to look up at him from his chair, a desperate tone in his voice.
"You shall refer to me only by title until I grant you permission!, Understood boy!?"
Drakion interjected as he attempted to speak, then continued, he had no hesitation in his belief.
"The greatest power, the most fulfilling and worthy power... is the one you create and muster by your own sheer willpower and ability. You are -my- apprentice. You do not -take- handouts nor will you look for them. If you do not accept my methods of training. My beliefs and the futures I wish for you to obtain... if these are not the futures you wish for yourselves, then get out of my sight you miserable scum."
The group of young warlocks that sat at the table before him, all stood, and silently left the room from beneath the Slaughtered Lamb... but one single woman. Drakion closed his eyes as he remain facing away from the one remaining. Once they had left the room, leaving the two alone...
"Prepare your things. We set out at dawn. We will require a more 'vacant' area so no one may come running to your screams."
Drakion turn and walked to the door.
"You may refer to me are Master or Teacher in public and training. You may refer to me as Drakion while in casual."
He carelessly opens and closes the door without waiting for a response, leaving the girl speachless. She only had a single finger in the air, attempting to place in a comment, but no luck.
For the next few months, the training of the two was rough, beyond anything the girl had imagine. She'd grown fond of her teacher, even more so then she believed he knew. She'd plan to confess her feelings for him once the time had come that she may no longer need to call him her master.
Upon one day of rest, a man arrived at her door step, one of Drakion's fellow magisters he was befriended with, fautigue and pain feeling his voice.
"Vexine! Something terrible! Drakion was taken by Glenn, the man he spoke of before! We must save him, he may kill him if we do not hurry!"
"Derrian, there is no way we could possibly stop him, you know of the tale Master has spoken of him! He is far to powerful!"
Derrian lean up, catching his breath... He slowly reaches into his belt pouch, quite a long and narrow pouch, removing a scepter that was consumed in a demonic aura, easily felt by those attune to such energies. He look up slowly with a heavy voice.
"I know... its against our teachings... but... if we use this.... we may stand a chance. Master said this contained a demon's soul he once captured. If we used it, then we could possibly save him."
She reached out, hesitantly.... to break her vows to her master.... or a chance to save a man she loves.He breath deeply as she closed her eyes, clenching the specter tightly and taking it in hand.
"Lets go..." She said simply as they both turn and ran to there mounts.
As they arrived to the location Darrian took them too, it was a tainted grove... fel energies filled the air. A man in a long gothic robes, with large perturding skipes from his shoulders, impaling skulls, stoop before a tomb with two large statues looking over it.
Vexine ran to the man, stopping soon to keep a short distance between them. Her voice roared loudly while Darrian stayed back in observance oddly.
"Let Drakion go you bastard!"
She took no time, laying down her demands. Holding the specter in hand, prepared to use it.
The man slowly turn around, his face covered by a mask that would resemble the grim reaper itself... red glowing demoinc eyes peering through the mask. A dark, whispy voice, a soft growl was sublte in the tone.
"You foolish little mortal girl... do you honestly expect me to listen to the demands of your pathatic little body? Your strength is but a merger spec of my own... and soon to be paled in comparison once I take the soul of your precious Teacher."
A muffled, barly audiable voice is heard cry out from the tomb.
"LET ME OUT! HELP! GET ME OUT! HELP!"
Vexine took no time in holding the scepter to her chest, beginning to channel the energies and soul of the demon into herself, attempting to gain the immense power she felt radiating from within. He eyes grew darker... the blood tint beginning to fill them... she felt her body beginning to fill with the demon's tainted energies. As she rose her head, nearing the end of the siphon, she is met face to face with the dark mask.
"You have fail your test. Now I must take back my demon."
As these words rolled off his tongue, she merely felt something cold pierce her belly... a scythe... Drakion's scythe. As life quickly is stolen from her, she is lowered to the ground by the man. Her vision had begun to fade... her death approached far too quickly.
"It was not meant to be. Darkness guide you."
She lay lifeless in his arms... lain down in her own blood... he reaches over, sweeping her eyes close gently with his gloved hand. He rose to his feet and dispersed his illusion of a mask from his magicks. Drakion stare over her corpse stoically.
"Another soul for my scythe... and to think she was so promising."
He reached down, placing his hand to her chest, a purple surge rolled out from his finger tips, pulling at her residual energies, siphoning them into himself. Darrian step down from his mount, walking to Drakion.
"Tis disappointing to have another fail... and this one even loved you I believe."
Drakion arose from the corpse casually.
"Get Piztog from the tomb and you can head home. Thank you for your assistance again."
Darrian nods as he walked past the exiting Drakion and to the tomb, pulling it open with a slight struggle from the immense weight of the stone.
"GET ME OUT OF HERE YOU DAMNED OLD MAN! I'M GOING TOO BITE YOUR EAR OFF!"
The imp leaps out of the tomb and charges out towards Drakion who was riding away on his demonic steed, Xenoth. Leaving Darrian on his rear from the surprising speed of the imp, scratching his head.
As Drakion fell down within the ravine, he pressed the shards of a fearsome beast to his chest, he awoke a long forgotten evil, one that should remain forgotten. Time seem to stop as he confronted the Darkness within.
"Awaken... I have one desire,that you grant me the strength to do what I must in order to fulfill one last goal... and then you may take this body as your new vessel to do as you desire. The time I ask for is short, the time you shall have is eternal."
A short silence is broken as the painfully familiar voice returns with it's response.
"Very well mortal. I shall entertain myself watching with your final hours approach. I do hope you do not disappoint me."
As time resume... he felt the final hours already baring down upon him as the last tint of blue is taken from his eye by the blood red glow of his choosen path.
Part 7 -The Escape- Edit
As Scornix's magical illumination faded from the air, the soldiers bear witness to the horrifying new appearance of the beast. A brief silence consumed the air... the calm before the storm.
[Demonic]: Zara. ([Common]: Burn)
Scornix whispers the words under his breath. In his grasp, a felish tint emit a dim light. Extending his hand, opening his claws, lights immediately shot upward.
The soldiers' voices echoed with the rage of there fallen commander... for the few who had the courage to raise there rifles and swords. They look and aim upward, the mages and the rifle men ready there guns and magic, the magic flying first, the bullets short behind.
Immediately upon fulfilling his magic, Scornix's wings flap upwards, shooting for the ceiling, darting for a newly forming rift, withing a large glyph. Having manage to avoid the first barrage of projectiles, e reaches the rift and places his palm upon the middle of the glyph that was now arcing in demonic energies.
[Demonic]: Ruka va Zukkuir ([Common: Come my minions)
The Abyss that stir within now manifests and a vortex swirls within the Dark ritual. One by one, massive fiery demonic boulders fall from the abyss at an exceedingly deathly velocity. As the soldiers turn, run and scatter, the objects slam into the now ruined paths within Ironforge and from within them, three fiery abyssal infernals raise from the ashes, prepared to fulfill there one purpose.
[Demonic]: Raka zulu rur ([Commmon]: Kill them all)
The words like a snake's hiss off his slender demonic tongue. The tides of the battle turned without a doubt. The men and women had prepared for a single man, not an army of gigantic demon constructs. Scornix waste no time. He would teleport into the house via his summoning circle, looking around to see no soldiers within. He would quickly gather his required belongings around the house while the infernals held them at bay. Books, trinkets, momentos and other objects deemed worthy. Once gathered, he sling his bag over his shoulder and walked to the book case. Applying his palm to the delicate spines of these age worn books, he drag his palm along them casually, flames raising in it's wake. He turn and proceeded to his balcony, only flames in his wake, burning all that others would find of his recorded magic and records. Leaping from the balcony and landing on the ground, his fall is cushion by crushed corpses within the crater of his infernals. He finds his way back to the same location they'd open the portal to where they took his child. He removed a simple translucent crystal from his pouch and siphoned the residues within it for later use. He gazed into the glimmering surface of the crystal, thoughts rolling through his mind, twas time to find his daughter.
[Demonic]:Zur ra rukir zauar Soulbane ([Common]: Let us leave this place Soulbane.)
As the Scythe emitted a faint green glow, the two vanished into the magics of the hearth.As he arrived within his quarters of the Kirin Tor Tower, he dropped his belongings and lowered Soulbane to his bed. He began to scour his room for the reagents of a scry to the location of his daughter.
Part 8 - Brotherly Love - Edit
"Your completely mad Brother.... but if it were my Daughter, I can't say I wouldn't do the same."
Linoge lean against the wall of Drakion's room, arms crossed.
"So there all gone?... *He let out a long drawn out sigh.* I don't understand... I mean... just all gone in one night... and the only means of tracking the portal that supposedly open in the keep is not working. Nothing adds up."
Linoge unwrapped his arms and proceed to Drakion's side, examining the scrying he worked on, watching to stay clear of his large wings.
"So once we locate her, your going to rescue her and follow them all?"
Drakion's face remain unaltered, blank as he worked upon his magics.
"Correct. All that matters at this point is to return Sayla to her Mother. I'm unfit to care for her."
Lingoe places his hand on the desk, leaning upon it and looking up at him.
"Top talking like that. Your perfectly fine. Sure your a nine foot demon... with firey eyes... huge fangs and.... talons... and wings... but come on! Your still her father and no one can take that away from you, -no one-."
Drakion stopped his work suddenly. Standing motionless for a moment as his eyes shortly after shut.
"Um... Drakion? You all right up there? I--"
His deep, rumbling voice softly rolled off.
"It's ready. Find Sayla."
Linoge shrugs and sighs as he walked to the middle of the room with Drakion. As his fingertips ignite with arcane, jolts arc from the bowl of water to his fingertips for a moment as words roll off his lips. Only but a few seconds later he lower his arms, having finished. Drakion followed his movements and proceed to look into the water.
"Well? What do you see? Drakion?... Will you stop ignoring me!"
Drakion walked to the bed as Linoge yelled at him, gripping Soulbane and turn to a teleportation glyph, stopping upon it.
"Don't follow me Vincent. I--- "
As he is unable to finish his sentence Linoge teleports straight into the circle, pointing his arcane lit finger at his face. Anger in his voice.
"The Hell I am. I saw whats in that scrying pool. Sayla is in this very building and your about to raze the entire place, just to rescue her. Well your not doing it alone. I hate these 'Tor' and I want my piece of them. Understand?…. And besides, she's my niece. She's one of us. and I never abandon one of the family. Isn't that our oath Brother? We are the last two of our blood, so we are the only two people we can ever trust, so we must stay together…."
A long silence hang over the room as Drakion stared off into space in a long thought…. His voice finally return to breathe solace.
"Very well. Then prepare yourself."
Part 9 - A Daughter for a Daughter - Edit
"How are the results coming along on the child Devin?"
The Archmage spoke across the lab to another researcher. Sayla lay on a flat bed with magical bindings wrapped around her limbs, nearly no more strength to cry any longer. Under her breath she whimpered 'Mommy…' softly.
"We're close to collecting the information on the hybrid you wanted sir."
As the soft echos of magic vibrated through the room for a minute, he lean up from his book.
"Excuse me. I must remove this child from your care."
As the five mages all in the room turn and raise from there chairs, they stare Linoge down. The Archmage steps forward and raise shis voice with narrowed eyes.
"By who's orders? Because I know that you are in fact not one of us."
Linoge crossed his arms with a smirk.
"My orders… now hand her over before I lite your ass up old man."
As the Archmage's teeth nearly bare from the snide comment, the mage, Devin, laughs as he spoke up.
"You and what army?"
Linoge lips twist to a wry grin.
"I was hoping you'd ask that."
Linoge's hand ignite with arcane as 3 images of himself appear around him, all wielding fire and frost.
"Your still outnumbered b---"
Devin is interrupted by Linoge as he spoke up quickly.
"I never said I was done!"
As the Archmage was peering up to respond, the door on the opposite side of the room is tore down by the body of another mage that is furiously thrown and projected onto the table of research books in the middle of the room. Drakion step through, eyes in a full glowing red intensity of fel, his voice was nothing sort enraged.
"Return my DAUGHTER!"
His voice rolled off his tongue like a growl. He quickly look down at a young female mage that had fallen to the ground at his feet with the crash of the door. He grip the nearly quivering woman and rose his scythe to her neck.
"Now! Or I'll -- "
As Drakion spoke the Archmage rose his hand, about to project a spell of his own, only to feel Linoge's hand pressed to the back of his head.
"Not so face old man."
At a quick glance, every image of Linoge's had reappeared at Drakion's sides like a shield.
"Okay! I oblige! Please just release her if we return your daughter."
The mage quickly moves over to the table, releasing the bonds and moving forward and placing the nearly unconscious child on the research table between them and stepping back.
Drakion spoke simply, Linoge nodding and taking the child, and then teleporting beside Drakion. The mages stare upon the two, there desires to kill the demon and the man were barely contained, but they remain silent for the life of there fellow mage was at stake. As Drakion could hear the steps of the other mages coming down the stairs, he step back, holing the frighten woman's neck to his scythe still.
"If you hurry, you can still save her life."
As a confused look on the mages face rose, the blade of Soulbane ran along the neck of the woman and severs the flesh open, allowing nearly a free flow of blood. Throwing her forward, her turns and darts out the door with Linoge.
"Get in the teleporter Brother!"
As the two approached the teleporter, the staircase was right behind them. Quickly pushing Sayla into Drakion's arms, Linoge. yelled at Drakion as he leapt in front of them.
"Run Brother! Don't look back!"
Drakion continue to move and steps into the teleporter as the mages all rush into the room.
"Vincent! Hurry --"
As his words rolled off his tongue, he watched Linoge turn himself into a frozen prison of ice, large enough to cut off the one passage to the teleporter. As his lip quivered in anger, knowing Linoge forced his hand, he incites the teleporter and vanishes from the Kirin Tor's tower.
Part 10 - "What the hell and What a friend."- Edit
Drakion and Sayla would arrive in a magical glyph within the Slaughtered Lamb. Stopping for a moment to think of what his bother had just done, his claws tensed into a fist. He look down at Sayla slowly… he had his daughter back thanks to his brother.
"What the fel?"
The silence is broke as a warlock stare at him in awe.
"What the hell are--"
The warlock is silenced as he is pelted with a bolt of shadow to his head. Drakion sighed softly as he made his way up and out of the Lamb with the warlocks in a mass uproar of such a presence. Running out, he finally felt the warm sun hit his face, but he didn't let such pleasantries avert him. He spreads his wings and shoots into the air, making distance between him and all his possible pursuers. Ease rolled through his shoulders as he finally rest in the skies.
As he reached the outskirts of Elwynn forest, he touch down and rest for a moment, sitting beside a tree and thinking of his next move.
He rose his head to a familiar voice, looking to Catiana look over his newly shaped demonic form. His body relaxed as he glance over.
"Of all that could stand before me, You are the last one i'd expect, but none I desire more."
Catiana walked over slowly, examining him casually, seemingly unbothered by his appearance.
"So what happen to you? Your covered in cuts and burns."
Drakion shook his head as he lean back.
"I had to reclaim my daughter from someone. It's okay now. I just need to find a safe place to examine something."
Cat lean over and knelt down with a soft sigh, reaching over to gingerly stroke Sayla's cheek thinking of how she and her own daughter resemble.
"You can stay at my Lab if you like. Rest there."
She reaches into her pouch, removing and offering Drakion a pale green orb.
Drakion said simply as he nod with a flat expression.
"Do be careful Drakion. All right?"
He sighs softly as he simply grips the orb and ignites the magic, channeling much like a hearth.
"I'll see you around hopefully."
Cat rolls her eyes with a smirk as she watches them disappear.
Part 11 -Calm before the Storm-Edit
Upon arrival to her lab, Drakion set Sayla down in a chair, allowing her to sleep and proceeded to begin looking into the crystal holding the residual energies of the portal that had swiftly taken his friend and family away in a matter of a single night. He walked around silently, examining Catiana's undead minions within her lab. Odd things, but never the less, he did not allow it to stray him for too long from his thought process.
Minutes hours and days passed, testing off and on over and over. Nothing was working. Every possible magic and scry he attempted all failed in the end.
"Is this a portal into nothing?" He muttered
Befuddled by how nothing worked, he sat down with his palms to his face…. thinking…
"I just don't know…. Damn it all!"
He slam his hand on the desk as he stood up. Pacing in circles her was lost in thought. After thinking long and hard, he stop and walk over to the desk… staring at the crystal.
"It seems that one more time, I must jump blindly into the Darkness."
He grip the crystal, placing it in his pouch. Gathering his few things and then raising Sayla to his arms.
"Its time to find Mommy Sayla… and kill her."
He walked for the exit, yelling out through the lab.
"Cat! It's time! Lets go!"
Part 12 -Final Goodbyes-Edit
As Drakion and Catiana arrived at the Keep, they would be met by Linoge. standing on the railing of the entrance way.
"Vincent! Your alive!"
Catiana looked at the ground, silent as Drakion moved forward quickly to met him.
"You think that little parlor trick would of had it in for me? Ha! Anyway. I figured if I wait long enough you'd show up here eventually. I guess you figured it out?"
Drakion shook his head.
"Nay. After much time spent searching… I've come to nothing. Where ever it leads… it is to no where."
Linoge quickly interjects as they began to walk upstairs within the keep, Catiana following silently behind.
"It has to lead somewhere, the Nether connects all. Where ever you go, I will find you, you know."
As the three approach the middle of the keep, Drakion removed the shard of the portal's residue. Holding it up, it pulsated the closer they stepped forward until they finally reached the exact spot of the rift. Drakion's hands ignite with arcane energies.
"This is finally it… then… channel your energies to my hand's focal point."
Drakion's eyes close to retain any emotional characteristics he would of expressed with his words. He focused on the magics as the two followed. The phobic of time and space tore before them. A vacuum of air nearly sweep the from there feet, but they are prepare to maintain there balance.
"Maintain it as I go through you two."
He look down for a moment at Sayla in his arms. Sleeping soundly under her medication to knock her out for a while.
"This is where I believe I say my goodbyes incase I never see you again."
Linoge rose his voice to speak over the arcing and violent sparks of arcane form the rift.
"I'll find you, the Nether connects all. Don't forget."
Drakion nod as he look to Linoge. "You are the only brother I will ever have. And I will tear the Nether apart if I must to see you again one day."
Linoge nod as he return his focus to the portal, a smirk on his face. Drakion then turn to Catiana. Tears roll down her face as she still strive to maintain the portal. Drakion rose his claws to wrap to her shoulder, firmly.
"Catiana. May the Etenral Darkness always watch over you. It was a privilege to have fought beside you."
She nod as he spoke. Unable to think of words of to reply with she merely focused on the portal. Drakion turn to the portal… preparing to step in… a Dark voice echoed in the room as Glenn would form from a shadow that amassed upon the floor.
"Wheres my good bye son! And don't think I was going to let you leave with my scythe. It's rude to borrow something and never return it."
Drakion's eyes widen as he turn, backing in to the portal. The other's mouths open, but they we're unable to react further more as they attempted to hold open the portal.
"Close it behind me! NOW!"
As the words rolled off his tongue, Glenn would charge forward with every ounce of his strength, propelling himself forward and taking himself into the portal with Drakion.
Part 13 -Coming Soon- Edit
- "I have endured what no man should endure, I have seen what no man should see, I have heard what no man should hear, I have felt what no man should feel, my flesh is stain by the blood of the innocent, my mind is drown in the screams of the slayen, and my soul is scared by the cold hand of death... I strive to survive every passing day until my body returns to wince it came, and you wonder why I choose to live on? the answer is simple... it is because I choose to, it is the only thing left to me, the choice to live, and I shall embrace it until the day I die."
- "I have been called a fallen angel... but for one to fall, one must first stand... so do not call me a fallen angel, but a risen devil."
- "A human is capable of limitless potential, if you are willing to sacrifice your own life, then it is possible to save another's."
- "Remember, I only offered you death, you accepted it."
- "Death have mercy on you, for I will not."
- "I love it when you call me Big Chungus."
- "It is called "Death" I have seen death. He has seen me. He has taken away my love and left me to be. The chill in the air cannot compare to the cold hard cruelty of death unaware. The life that is precious that we hold so dear is but a moment gone when death is near."
- "When death is near, our love ones he has taken, without concern for it is his calling that he dare to take his toll on mankind. For his hand shall sweep thru this land until not a soul is left to stand."