Tumgik
#silithid
radiant-obs · 10 months
Text
Radiant Obscurities Site Update
Site updated with 5 new writings: 2 roadrunner writings, silithid wasp, absol Pokemon, & raven/ceratosaurus; 2 writings by Quatz & Ocean Watcher that are linked off-site; and added a few more websites to the Links page.
Go to the site to find the links to the new material on the homepage.
36 notes · View notes
tanix-dragon · 1 year
Text
One With the Hive: Being a Silithid Wasp
FINALLY getting around to making a post about my third kintype--the silithid wasp 'type that has finally made me take the label "fictherian" for myself. Thank @who-is-page for this because of his post asking people to please talk about their obscure identities. This is also crossposted from the fictionkind dreamwidth--if my cohost is going to be running the damn thing, I'm going to post on it whenever applicable. :p Anyway, The Post.
Very slowly over the course of.... I don't know, the last year or so, I've been chipping away at some kind of insectoid kintype. How I arrived where I am was quite the journey, and I'm still discovering what it means to me to be the kind of creature that I am. I hold out no hope of finding other silithid, nevermind other silithid wasps: maybe I'm just putting myself out there with this 'type out of the hopes that seeing something so strange will make someone else feel better about their 'type.
Brief mentions of animal death below the cut, as well as insects, of course.
I consider myself a fictherian because of this 'type: the silithid are a fictional "race" (as they're described in-game and on the wiki) of giant, cunning insectoids from World of Warcraft, a game that my hearttype (Netherwing dragons <3) is also from. The silithid hatch out from eggs laid by a queen into larvae that glow with bioluminescence, lighting their giant underground hives made from materials found in the environment and various excretions. Eventually, those larvae can grow into one of many shapes: ant-like workers, giant scarabs, scorpids(?), wasps, large soldiers called reavers, or even larger and stranger forms, such as the colossi.
Silithid are animals. They are members of a hive, and individually, are not particularly intelligent. They possess an animalistic cunning, yes, and as a group, their hivemind can make them quite tactical, but at the end of the day, they are just extremely large insectoid creatures. Silithid do not talk, do not have higher reasoning--this is the source of my calling this a theriotype in addition to a fictotype. Hence my taking on the label fictherian--I don't remember who coined it, but whoever it was is a genius.
Being a wasp... I don't know. Wasp on its own isn't enough. I've never felt any kind of kinship with wasps, with the forty or so who struggled into my home this past autumn and trapped themselves inside the light fixtures. A certain fascination, yes. When I was younger, a terror, sure. I love watching them sit still and clean themselves, and as of late, I feel a kinship with that, at least. Arthropods love to be clean, and will spend a tremendous amount of time ensuring that they are. That's something I can relate to: when I get into a shift, I want to paw at my face and eyes to wipe them clean, run antennae through my mouthparts to make sure that they're clear of debris.
Maybe part of my fear of wasps was an instinctive that's dangerous response. Would I know, since I am one? Was one? I don't know the origin of this kintype, spiritual or psychlogical: I don't know, since I've always been drawn to the silithid since I was a kid, playing WoW and stepping into a silithid hive for the first time. The buzz and hum, the glowing orange lights in the purple and yellow-brown interior, the almost plastic shine of everything that wasn't dull and rough... I wanted more. I wanted to be there. Stepping into the desert ruins of Ahn'Qiraj, the entire raid devoted to the silithid and their insectoid/humanoid qiraji creators/masters, servants of the Old God who created them... I had a fixation on it from as young as perhaps eight or nine, as soon as I had a character high enough level to see that content. The music is really something else, too--look up the Ahn'Qiraj music on YouTube for me, both the interior and exterior. You can see why it might sink into a kid's mind as the Coolest Thing Ever. Was I in love with the hive because I remembered it being my home? Or did my love for it, totally normal and human (if autistic) in nature, form the kintype? Who am I to say? It doesn't matter that much to me.
The wasps weren't even my main interest. Sure, they're bigger than a human, come in fun colors, have a stinger that could pierce a human's torso (and I do mean pierce), and have some kind of strange bladed legs that let them slash at opponents--but it was the scarabs and reavers that really drew me in. I felt a kinship with the reavers, some kind of family instinct, and now I think it's because the reavers and the wasps are the main protectors of the hives. The reavers are strong and tanky on the ground while the wasps come in from the air, more delicate but more damaging. They must work together to be effective. As for the scarabs... I don't know what job they performed. The game devs don't seem to know either. But they're slow. Well-armored, sure, but slow, and probably in need of protection. I love real-life scarabs, too: I love looking at them and I want to touch them and protect them. Beetles are just cool.
But I'm not one. My shifts usually encompass the mouthparts (what I got first, and what started this whole search for a kintype, after years and years of getting them and thinking nothing of it even after being in alterhuman circles for four years) and the wings, which I know were big enough to carry me and not protected like a beetle's are. I've gotten noemata since latching onto the idea of being a wasp, too: noemata of things like being up in one of the cells high on the wall of one of the hive chambers, crawling partway out and clinging to the wall, looking down at some tunnelers--workers--passing by below, scanning to make sure that there was nothing else trying to sneak by with them, no nasty little invaders from the mortal races. The silithid had been at war with humans and other mortals since the beginning: there was no love or trust lost between them. I can also "remember" flying over the dull gray-brown sands of Silithus, I think, either patrolling for threats or hunting for food. I can hear the buzzing of my wings, the hot, still air of the desert around me. My shifts drive me to chew up wood and other organic materials, to help build structures in the hive like the one I rest in out of these chewed materials glued together by a kind of glue-like salive-esque excretion. I want to chew my wooden desk so badly some days.
And it all just feels like home, like I know what I should be doing and there's no ambiguity to it. It's part of being a greater whole, a cog in a machine, a cunning, ferocious beast who will die without hesitation for the hive, for the qiraji, for the Old God that spawned my kind. No sense of right or wrong, good or evil: only feed and protect and kill. It's like my deathclaw kintype in that way, and it's comforting in a shift, sometimes. I can escape the worst of my emotions and worries by just thinking, a silithid wouldn't worry about this. A silithid would just press on--eat, fight, survive, until the day came where it had to die to protect its hive, and it would do so without anxiety or a second thought. The hive must be protected. There is no ambiguity in that. And if orders came over the resonating crystals in the hive, sent by the intelligent qiraji to the silithid, telling them to swarm, march, move, or do anything else? There's no ambiguity in that either. Obey. Do what instinct demands, whether that be the simple defend-kill-feed-sleep loop or something more complex, something darker.
It's a strange mindset to peer into as an individualistic, intelligent being that is also dragonkin, of all things. As if a dragon would not think about their actions! As if a dragon would ever take orders! But that's the oddness of being alterhuman, isn't it? The pieces of your identity that don't always align nicely, that are so separate from one another that they could only coexist in the you-that-is? It's strange, and fun to think about, and part of the joy of being alterhuman, at least to me. Picking apart your identity, delving into each piece, and then stepping back and going well, that was weird. 
I don't have much more to say other than this disorganized ramble. Not yet, anyway. I'm still exploring this kintype and I'm sure I still have a lot to learn about it. Maybe I'll talk about my haphazard, crawling Awakening sometime, but that's a long and meandering post on its own. Thank you for reading. ^^
46 notes · View notes
trixcuomo · 5 months
Text
Voidspray
Tumblr media
Trixany: Sharpen, do you remember when we got randomly inspired to make a Warcraft version of Hairspray?
Sharpen: Uh-huh. I got to be your heartthrob dance partner with amazing green Night Elf hair!
Trixany: And remember when Haris Pilton said I had silithids crawling in my hair, which was so petty of her? But then I showed up in my silithid dress to throw that insult back in her face?
Sharpen: Yep. That big silithid dance number we did saved the day!
Trixany: But then it turned out Haris was being helpful for a change and I did have silithids in my hair? And the whole thing was all a plot by the Twilight Hammer to brainwash us into joining their cult and worship the old gods.
Sharpen: *glowers* Ah, yes. That was a dark day for us all, my Blood Elf friend.
Trixany: ...
Sharpen: ... ...
Trixany: I guess the whispers every time I shook the hairspray can should have been the tip off.
Sharpen: ... You had tentacles in that make out scene.
Trixany: What?! You should have told me! Ugh, I'm so sorry about that.
Sharpen: I mean, that should have been my own tipoff, but.
Trixany: Don't say it--
Sharpen: It was hot.
Trixany: Got-dangit, Sharpen!
2 notes · View notes
bread-elf · 2 years
Text
Aug. DWC 2022 - Day 3
Tumblr media
Sentimental Jiroki treks uphill along the path of a winding river, already knowing the spots to avoid where cranes tend to their nests. She carries a travel pack on her, as well as a bucket and some fishing supplies. Her little assistant for today carries a long handle net, long ears sticking out of his bucket hat as he tries to follow his mother’s footsteps. Vaeren’dalar is Jiroki’s first born son, though just a few minutes younger than his twin sister, Anorah’lah. Though twins, their eyes and hair color did not match. Anorah obtaining traits of her father’s family and having shimmering white hair with silver eyes. Vaeren looks more to be a Glaivefall by blood, sporting the exact same shade of sea green hair as his mother, with amber eyes common with men, like Jiroki’s own brother and father. The Kaldorei woman keeps her steps slow so as to not outpace her little son. Dark eyes flicker around the area as they head to their destination, cautious of any animals that could be lurking around. Recently they had a scare with Anorah herself deciding to try and find a lost toy all on her own during a storm. Apparently a wild animal had encountered her, and if not for a dear friend terrible things could have happened. Jiroki at first had no idea what had tried to hunt her child, until on her doorstep she found a cleaned pelt of tiger skin, deposited by her mysterious friend.
They find their spot and Jiroki sets up the fishing lines, the light of dawn barely starting to trickle in over the mountains and through the morning clouds. Jiroki yawns, her sleep schedule out of whack constantly with the jobs she does and the people she sees. But her family needs to eat, and she can make herself available for her children at any time. After the lines are set Vaeren right away begins to excavate for insects, carefully prying up flat rocks near the water bed to see what he can find. The creepy crawlies of the soil scatter as they’re exposed to the open hair, some trying to dig to hide while others seek the next nearest shelter. Already Vaeren gets a lucky break, finding a centipede that starts to shuffle away. The boy glances up, spotting his mother fidgeting with wrappings on her arm. She sports a new tattoo that she got recently, taking off its bindings to rub some ointment on it while they wait for a catch. It’s located on her upper arm, a centipede in fact. Coiled around her bicep and tricep. Vaeren looks back down at the much smaller centipede scurrying away. With careful hands he sets down the rock he’s holding and picks up the bug, and comes on over to his mother. Jiroki looks over to see what her boy is doing, only to flinch and recoil a bit as she sees the insect. “Ack- Vaeren! Put that down!” “Huh? Don’t you like these?” More fearless than his mother when it comes to the insect world. And now befuddled that she’s reacting in such a way. “You have one on your arm.” “I-I know-” It’s not easy being called out by a child with such an innocent thought process. But regardless she stops what she’s doing to gingerly pick up the bug from his little hands. “These things can bite you, and it hurts! You shouldn’t take things from their home.” She spots the location he was just digging for insects and starts to move over there, Vaeren at her heels. “Has one bit you before?” Vaeren asks, watching the way his mother carefully cradles the centipede and not disturb it too much.
“No. I’ve killed bigger bugs than this.” Jiroki doesn’t deign to elaborate on the Silithid to her child, instead returning the centipede to the soil. It starts to scurry on its way, and Jiroki replaces the rock that was removed. “You can look at things, but you shouldn’t touch things if you don’t know it’s friendly. Remember when you tried to play with that bird?” “No…” He does. The way he squirms and avoids eye contact is taletelling. Unfortunately, a trait he acquired from her. Jiroki can’t help but chuckle, wiping her hands on her pants and standing, then reaching down to ruffle that ocean hair of his. “You’re cute.” Vaeren makes a face as he’s called cute, disagreeing with it, but he gives no verbal protests of it this time. But a splash in the water distracts him, missing a Lungfish jump from the water. His adventuring continues on, mindful of what he picks up and grabs. Jiroki joins him on his little excavations, giving him the freedom to explore and learn, teaching him little things here and there depending on what he finds. They remain near their fishing spot all the while, Jiroki keeping tabs on the fishing lines from a distance. “Can I give this to Anorah?” He finds a large snail, giant, bigger than his hand.
“Tch, what did I just say?” She takes the snail and plants it back on a leaf, letting it resume its slow moving route. “Let’s find her something else, that isn’t a pet.” “... Is she still grounded?” Vaeren asks rather timidly. In most cases his sister would have gone with them for this trip. But after her little escapade the other night, she isn’t allowed to leave home for a time. “No. She’s grounded forever.” “Forever?” Vaeren looks at her with wide, sad, glowing eyes. Then becomes remorseful. “I think she left because of me.” “Why?” Jiroki quirks her head to the side a bit, confused as she looks down at her son. “I said we should go get it so Taldreath can stop crying. But- I didn’t think she’d do it.” Vaeren appears to look guilty now, the blame being shifted. “Should... I be grounded?” Jiroki lets out a sigh, starting to feel sentimental over him. Once more she reaches a hand up, brushing some of his hair back to place a motherly kiss on his forehead. “No, it’s not your fault. She isn’t grounded forever. But, she’s in a lot of trouble. Do you understand why?” “Uh…” Suddenly on the spot as he’s asked a question that sounds like he should know the answer to. “Because she… Left the land?” “During a storm.” Jiroki elaborates further, trying to prompt Vaeren into thinking more on it. But he nods along a bit, gaining an understanding. “Don’t ever leave the house when there’s a storm going on, unless you’re with family, ok?” “Min’da!” Vaeren looks exasperated, looking behind her at the fishing lines. Jiroki turns sharply, seeing one of the fishing lines being tugged on. But just in time as she looks, it lodges free of where it’s propped, falling to the ground. “Fucc-nngus- fungus-” Jiroki tries to haphazardly censor her cursing as she gets up and rushes over, tripping over some of the rocks they had moved around. Vaeren moves swiftly as well, but watches his mother do most of the work as they reel in some fish.
@daily-writing-challenge
3 notes · View notes
furniturejust · 1 year
Text
Vanilla mage drops rewards dire maul
Tumblr media
For this one, you'll need ridiculous luck, insane PvP skills, or an army of friends willing to help you! Yells when he spawns.įrom the chest at Gurabashi Arena, that spawns every 3 hours. They are everywhere along the beach.ĭrop from Mok'rash, an elite giant at Janeiro's Point. Spawns in the buried bottles of the Wild Shore. Randomly spawns on the floor of the Bloodsail ships at the southernmost area of STV. If you manage to get this one, consider yourself lucky. Very low drop rate so be patient!Ī random world drop with an extremly low drop chance, everywhere. Random drop from any of the Burning Blade cultists at Thunder Axe Fortress. You need to be in the The Swarm Grows quest to be able to loot the carapace and get this quest. You need to complete The Ashenvale Hunt to get this quest.ĭrop from Galak Messenger, a centaur that wanders the northern part of Thousand Needles, close to The Great Lift.ĭrop from the silithid at the The Rustmaul Digsite. You need to complete The Ashenvale Hunt to get this quest.ĭrop from Sharptalon. You need to complete The Ashenvale Hunt to get this quest.ĭrop from Shadumbra. Why can Horde take this one? No idea.ĭrop from Ursangous. Random drop from the murlocs at Westfall. Random drop from the gnolls at Fenris Isle. Rare elite with a VERY long respawn time.ĭrop from Aean Swiftriver, a night elf elite that patrols the Southern Gold Road with her little army and has probably killed you at least once. You can find it anywhere!ĭrop from Silithid Harvester. Inside a barrel that spawns randomly at The Barrens. Random drop from the undead at the Agamand Mills. Very hard to get because of all the competition, and has a long respawn time! To open the chest, you need the key that drops from Lieutenant Benedict.Īt the floor of a small hut south of where Chief Sharptusk Thornmantle is located.ĭrops from Ghost Howl, a rare wolf that wanders around Thunder Bluff. And lastly, I tried sorting them by zone level with low level zones/dungeons first, but that's not too accurate.įound in a locked chest at the top of Tiragarde Keep. Also, you can't miss them, and the whole point of this list is for you (for me, actually) not to miss any quests! I also classified them in regular leveling quests, dungeon quests and raid quests. The only ones I excluded are the repeatable reputation quests in Cenarion Hold (Silithus), since those are boring, random, and well, repeatable. And there WILL be missing items, no doubt. If you notice any missing item, please tell me so and I'll add it! My intent is for this list to be definitive, with no items missing. This is based off my own experience playing the game in both actual vanilla and private servers, and some research online. here is a list of all the items that start a quest that I know of. I tried looking online for something like this, but wasn't able to find it so. RPG's are made for quests! So naturally my goal in Classic WoW is to do as many quests as humanly possible. Questing is my favorite thing to do in WoW.
Tumblr media
0 notes
nicadilly · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I realized i have a bunch of stuff from last year that i never actually uploaded so thats happening
113 notes · View notes
nevelis · 6 years
Text
Journal Entry 01 - 07/15
When they told me that there was big, fuck off sword in the middle of Silithus I didn’t believe them. Hadn’t believed them for months. I could believe the stories of the silithid and the creepy golden substance that rose out of the ground, but not the sword. Dunno why I couldn’t believe the sword but, I just didn’t. It was so hard to imagine that there was a sword that fuckin’ big, you know? -- But there was one, and it was driven into our planet like a skewered pig.
Tumblr media
When I saw it first I couldn’t believe it none. Bigger than any mountain in the vicinity, glowin’ a real eerie red. Folk said it destroyed everything in the area, people and creatures included. From my time there I discovered fast like that there were still some bastions of folk, new outposts for the Alliance and Horde, and a bit o’ them Twilight Cultists fuckin’ about like they owned the place.
Been sharin’ my lodgin’ in Orgrimmar with Camsaen and Voxxine. I hope Voxx ain’t seen this, really, hope she never has to - it’d kill her wee lil gob heart, y’know? She’s the nicest lil’ gob I’ve lain eyes on and she cares for the planet more than most of her ilk do, I know this would break her heart. She told me when this happened, when Sargeras drove his fuckin’ blade into our planet, that she felt it - and that it hurt more than anything else. I’m inclined to believe her.
I ain’t the magic type, ain’t even the nature type. I’m the type that uses blades and uses ‘em well as far as I’m concerned, but, when I was near that place ... I swear I felt somethin’, before the champions came with they real fancy weapons and drained the power outta that blade -- it was like it was talkin’. Maybe I’m just losin’ my head.
Went there ‘round the first of this month, a bit sooner for scoutin’. Had some contracts to deal with some Twilight Cultist worshippin’ ogres and some real fucked up silithid. Found Cheese there, he’s a good fella. Lil’ dude ain’t gonna grow big like his big ole silithid brethren, so I put him in my pack an’ decided to let him be a pal. Voxx told me that he was stunted or somethin’, like a hormone activated too fast for the poor guy. He ain’t that smart, either, compared to most silithid. Was gonna name him somethin’ neat like “Bones”, but he answered to Cheese of all things. I don’t even think he likes cheese.
Been in and outta Silithus for the last week or so. Tension is brewin’ among the Horde and Alliance, and I was intendin’ to stay outta it. However, lotta gold to be made stabbin’ folk that people think deserve it, and I could always use the coin. Sounds like somethin’ might be goin’ down in Kalimdor, soon - judgin’ rumors. Alliance gettin’ all uppity with the so-called “Azerite” minin’. Dunno what the fuck sorta name Azerite is, but I’m assumin’ it’s the glowin’ stuff those gobs were haulin’ outta there.
Ain’t seen this Azerite in person, truly, just the veins them gobs been minin’. No touchin’, they says, no touchin’. Rumors that when ya touch it ya get clarity, like all ya doubts and troubles go away. Sounds like it’d make a hell of a potion, but I don’t think I’d want to kill our planet for it. I saw Argus, I saw Draenor - I ain’t want none of that for my life time, or any life times to come, really. Seen enough of that shit, you feel me?
Anyways, I’m due to check for contracts soon. Ain’t real sure about this whole journal business but, man, anything to help me sleep. I think shit is aboutta go down, y’know? One war into another, that sorta thing. Kinda wish I could just manage to fuck off somewhere and live with my dogs but, don’t wanna leave anyone. I promised I wouldn’t leave.
Either way, I’ll write in this thing later. I made the cover for it myself.
-N
3 notes · View notes
saigontimemd · 6 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Go figure the one thing that dragged me from The Old Republic back to WoW was new Silithid models. Best quality: his wiggles. Haven’t though of a name yet, though.
1 note · View note
kathrana · 4 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Qroshekx and Xaarshej.
0 notes
clownaddict · 3 years
Text
Man, trolls in WoW just wanna sit in their huts n’ get stoned with their raptors why does the entirety of WoW history hate them Their entire past is just “we were great once and then we got steamrolled by literally every other race after us”
1 note · View note
mogsnobs · 7 years
Photo
Tumblr media
♦ Qiraji Deathguard - Cloth
Chirping and clacking, their mandibles chitter Fiends of the desert, blight of the sands In labyrinthian hives they plot as they skitter The Qiraji will soon again rule these lands
In honor of the new micro-holiday, Call of the Scarab, I present Qiraji Deathguard, a transmog set usable by any cloth-wearing class.
71 notes · View notes
magemakis · 6 years
Text
Character Development, Day 8
Day of Favorites! What’s your character’s favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Makis awoke to the early dawn light spilling through the window and across his face. He rolled out of bed and dressed quickly, already excited for the day. The weekend had finally arrived, and that meant cheat day. He raced downstairs, skipping every other step, and practically barreled through the front door into the radiant morning.
Makis was headed for the Mage Quarter, to a particular vendor of sugary treats. His eagerness, however, was not strong enough to discard routine. The monk took his time, stopping first just outside his lodgings to smell the flowers. A small garden bed displayed a colorful array of spring blossoms; pansies, petunias, tulips, and his favorite, a single sprouting red rosebush. Makis closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of their heavenly aroma. He could sense the budding life energy surrounding the flowering plants. With a small effort of will, he sent a small portion of his own spirit to dance among the blossoms and help them to grow.
With a clear mind, and a smile in his heart, Makis made his way to the canals. He whistled a jaunty tune in concert with the idle chirping of the city’s native birds, his footsteps keeping the beat. A bard had graced the tavern with her song last night, and the shadowy memory of the lyrics eluded his grasp. The tune was crisp and clear, at least, and Makis kept up the song as he strolled over the bridge connecting the Trade and the Mage. He’d have to go back sometime and listen again. Something about ‘Love in springtime’, or some such. It was a good song.
One of the best advantages of being an early riser was getting to be first in line. The small stand was just opening for business, and Lisa McKeever’s welcoming smile greeted her first customer. The candy vendor was a local celebrity in Makis’ eyes. Her fine selection of delicious treats was unparalleled in the city. He already had a silver piece in a hand as he stepped up and placed his order.
‘‘One Tigule and Foror’s Strawberry Ice Cream Cone, please and thank you!’‘ Makis chirped as he laid the coin down on the sill. He eagerly rocked back and forth on his heels as he awaited the delivery of his tasty delight. He accepted the cone with gratitude and a smile, before racing off. 
He was sitting on the edge of the bridge,ice cream in hand and feet dangling over the languid waters, when a familiar voice rang out behind him. The huntress’s honeyed drawl dripped with mock disgust. 
‘‘I don’t get ‘ow ya can eat that every week, love.’‘ She quipped. ‘‘Ya know they make that shite out of bug goo?’‘
Makis shuddered. He held out his cone and looked down at it. Now that she mentioned it, there was a strange aftertaste...
‘‘Why do you have to ruin ice cream?’‘ Makis bemoaned as he dropped the cone into the water below, where it disappeared with a plop. Makis sighed and rubbed his rumbling stomach.
5 notes · View notes
tanix-dragon · 2 years
Text
Still working on that insectoid kintype. Still large, still flying. Now that I've opened up my mind to silithid biology, I can sometimes get shifts, mostly in my hands trying to be weird little bug feet.
I think I might be right, guys. "I am a damselfly" never felt quite right (although it's still Something, might just call it a paratype for now) but "I am silithid" does.
7 notes · View notes
sparkwell · 4 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Just a few different pictures of our trip through Tanaris! I think the water was my favorite part, especially with how bright the moon was. We learned very early on that it’s easier to work in the desert at night...quite a bit colder but the cold never really bothered me that much. During the day the sun is insanely hot, you don’t even want to try to get out there and do anything! 
 That last picture is of the Silithids that are slowly taking over corners of Tanaris from their home is Silithus. I guess that makes a certain amount of sense though. I don’t really like the big bugs, they’re pretty scary, especially how smart they are. Eek! 
0 notes
asharinhun · 2 years
Text
DWC February Day 2 - Protect/Fray
// TW Injury, TW violence - set during the War of the Shifting Sands
Tumblr media
"Come on, get going already! We cannot hold them up for long! The commanders must be warned!" As'Trevon roared, taking on his bear form despite his injuries and barreled into the incoming, endless swarm of silithid, the remaining sentinels joining him with their own battlecries.
Asharin growled in frustration, but did as he was told. His own hide sported similar wounds despite hardening his skin like bark, the bladelike appendages of the reavers penetrating his defense. He knew the choice was rational, if anyone had a chance to reach the commanding officers before the buglike creatures, it was him. The druid vowed to make his comrades' sacrifice count.
By the time he and the two sentinels with him returned from their scouting mission, the camp was already under attack. It wasn't a true outpost, little more than a suitable spot to rest surrounded by a semicircle of rocks to shield them from the elements... hardly protection against an army. He had no idea if it was mere bad luck or calculated, but the healers were among the first to fall, making resistance futile. Only four of them remained of the original dozen, himself included.
Roaring in defiance one last time, Asharin shapeshifted, shedding the form of the bear to that of the more graceful and faster nightsaber. He would have opted for a different shape if not for the long gash running across her shoulder all the way to the middle of his back.
***
He didn't dare to take a break, knowing full well the enemy could catch him simply by following the trail of blood, but he could push past the limits of his body for only so long before being forced to slow down and resumed his elven form.
The familiar buzzing of wasplike wings meant his pursuers were hot on his trail. Asha gritted his teeth and attempted to take on the shape of the stormcrow, consequences to his body be damned, but he only managed a few flaps before landing in the sand with a thud.
"Damn it!" The elf hissed, too tired for another shapeshifting and prepared his last stand. The dozen or so silithid flyers were almost within striking distance. Pouring his anger and determination into his spell, Asharin released a blast of lightning, the sparks jumping from one insect to the other.
For a moment the druid believed it was complete success. He collapsed to his knees, but looked up again at the angry screech of a pair of wasps. Their armored shells were smoking, but apparently the power of his spell faltered as it reached the rear of the hunting group.
Asharin wanted desperately to fight on, but he was completely spent. "Sorry everyone, I couldn't make it in the end..." He whispered, ready for the end.
A huge shadow blocked out the sun and the elf recoiled at the sudden heat as a blast of fire turned his attackers into cinders. He looked up, only to gasp in wonder as a majestic red dragon slowly descended, followed by a green. It made no sense at first, the bronze dragons refused to join the war, and Asharin doubted any of the druids had deep enough ties to the Emerald Dream to make the greens offer their aid, let alone contacting the reds.
"Are you alright?" The red dragon, a female based on her voice, rumbled as she landed.
"Obviously. The small pool of blood next to him confirms it." The green -another female- replied with sarcasm.
The red shot a look at her comrade before her form started shimmering and shrinking, and Asha was looking into the concerned eyes of a gorgeous elf maiden. Despite knowing her true form, the exhausted druid couldn't help but marvel at her beauty and the long, crimson hair with snowwhite streaks framing her face. The horns just added to her exotic look, but the ground rushed to meet him before he could get an even better look.
Gentle, but firm hands prevented his fall, the fog in his mind clearing as the warmth of a healing spell spread through, renewing Asharin's body and allowing him to focus once more.
"The silithid... they are coming. I must warn the commanders..." He muttered and tried to stand, unable to meet her gaze.
"We know. I have no idea which corner of the desert you come from to report, but they have already reached the Caverns of Time. Anachronos was so pissed he even asked our flights for aid." The speaker had to be the green, and Asha wasn't that surprised to find another elf maiden standing in place of the dragon with shining amber eyes like his own and long emerald hair.
"I... I see. I still have to warn them of a fresh wave, our small outpost was already overrun." He steeled his voice. "Could you tell me the direction of where the current frontline is, please?"
"Do you think you can offer any aid, exhausted as you are? Alara might have healed your body, but stamina isn't so easy to refill." The green supplied after a quick glance at him.
"Lyna, you don't have to be so rude." Alarastrasza retorted and sighed, but Lynesera was right. "You just rest, brave one. I have mended your wounds, not even a scar remains on your shoulder, but you're in no shape to join the fight...but I'll take you to the command base. Lyna, a little help, please?" She added, turning to the druid.
"Wait, what do you...?" Asharin's eyes fluttered shut as the green dragon's spell took effect.
Alara was ready to resume her original form when she noticed Lynesera's odd expression. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I was just surprised. I cast that sleep spell before you actually finished talking, yet he lasted long enough to even voice a complaint. Unusual... wait, a second." She stepped next to his sleeping body in the red's arms. "Those antlers, they're the real deal. I've heard of his like before from my kin, but this is the first time I've met one. Druids born with antlers are blessed with potential, and it explains his resistance to my Dream-based powers." She paused, looking from his face to Alara's. "You certainly picked up an interesting plaything, my friend." She teased before returning to her dragon form, waiting on the red.
Alara just scoffed before turning as well, carefully scooping Asha into a forepaw and carried him back to the army's current base.
***
The following days were far from peaceful. Though he still caught a few odd glances directed his way here and there, he just ignored them. It couldn't be helped, a dragon carrying someone back like in his case was hardly normal.
Asharin shook his head, focusing on the battles ahead instead. The elven army's morale improved greatly when the dragons joined the fray, for the first time since the death of Archdruid Staghelm's son. They could even push the silithid and their qiraji leaders all the way back to Silithus, but the numbers of the insect race were seemingly infinite. The attempt to retake the land ground to a halt.
Asha did his part during the fights: wherever the the line of elves was about to falter, he was quick to join the area, the giant bear carving a line in the silithid forces, his fur hardened like bark and lightning crackling around his paws. His survival wasn't entirely his own prowess though that couldn't be denied either, but a breath of fire from one of the dragons passing overhead kept him from being surrounded more than once.
It happened during a particularly fierce battle: the painful roar hit his ears even as he was waist-deep in silithid corpses, and the bear quickly looked in the direction it came from. It was a green dragon, on the ground, and the qiraji forces started to converge in that direction. Asharin wasted no time, charging towards the green with all the haste his form could allow, carving a path to the distressed leviathan.
It became clear as he got closer that one of its wings was full of holes, the likely reason the dragon was forced to land, but it was already sporting a number of bloody wounds, including one on the right side of its face.
The qiraji general, wanting the kill for itself alone, readied its appendage for another blow to the dragon's face to snuff its life out when the lightning struck, forcing a shriek of pain from the creature. Asharin barreled past an anubisath, knocking it down by slamming into its leg, and jumped at the general. Rage filled his mind, letting it control him and he kept mauling , mangling and ravaging his opponent's carapace, ignoring any injury he himself received, including a nasty wound in his side.
It was the voice of the dragon that brought the druid's reason back from the red haze of fury, a voice that was familiar. "It's dead, go now while you can..." It was Lynesera, the green from back then.
"I'm going nowhere." He growled, glad of the momentary reprieve he had given her, but it wouldn't last, not with such a prized kill the green presented. "Can you still take humanoid form? I might be able to get you back then." Asha muttered, slamming his paw into a silithid reaver that came too close.
"Forget it." Lynesera refused, her good eye dim with resignation. She let out a weak breath of noxious fumes, taking care of the smaller insects, but it had no effect on the pair of anubisath closing in on them and she didn't have the strength for more.
"You two saved me before, you can give up on me leaving you behind now." To her utter disbelief, Asharin's bear form seemed to grow even bigger, the lightning now fully enveloping and crackling around his bark-covered body.
With a roar worthy of Ursoc, the druid charged into one of the obsidian constructs, tearing chunks off from its body with his blows before leaving his target to tear into the other.
"Fall back!" The roar from above was his only warning as a blast of fire destroyed the constructs, the druid only dodging it by a hair's breath.
"Get Lyna to safety, quickly! I'll cover you as long as I can, but time is pressing!" Alarastrasza rumbled, silencing the green's protest with a look.
Lynesera obliged silently, quickly pressing a hand against the bleeding side of her face once in she was in her kaldorei guise and collapsed to her knees with a grunt.
Asha lowered hismelf to the ground so she could climb up, not trusting himself to be able to shift again with the wound in his side. With wall of dragonfire covering his back, he could afford to focus on getting the green to the healers without worry.
***
Asharin was sitting by one of the many campfires at the base, the fur cloak over his shoulders and the heat of the flames barely enough the keep the chill of the night away from his bare chest, but his bandaged side finally stopped throbbing so he was in no hurry to move. Luckily, most of the soldiers were either asleep or gathered around more centrally-located fires, and he didn't mind the solitude. He had to stop hismelf from scratching absentmindedly at the poultice over his right cheek, hiding a deeper cut that needed to be stitched together. He didn't even notice it during the battle, and getting it mended wasn't a priority compared to the injuries others suffered.
His ears twitched at the sound of approaching footsteps in the sand, whoever it was, wanted him to hear their coming.
"I'm glad to find you awake and in decent enough health." The newcomer raised a hand in greeting.
"Ah, Alara... Alarastrasza, was it?" Asha fumbled his words, wanting to stand and bow first, but a winced at the pain in his side and hoped she would accept the nod he managed in the end. He could at least get a better look at her elven appearance, surprised at the simple top and the long skirt. She was barefoot too, but she was a dragon, he supposed it didn't really matter whether the sand was cold or hot under her feet. She looked exhausted, but her golden eyes were still gleaming in the firelight.
"Alara is fine." She replied, her strides more urgent as she reached his side with a frown. "You're hurt. I'm surprised the healers didn't completely heal you."
"It's... It's not too bad. I didn't want to take their time from those who needed it more. They had their hands full already. I just need to sleep and will be ready to fight again." It was the truth as he saw it, but Alara's clearly disagreed.
"Stay still." Her hands glowed with green light as she removed the bandages from his side, her touch warm and renewing. She traced a finger over the cut on her cheek as well, the stitches dissolving in the process. "I'm sorry, I couldn't mend them flawlessly, it has been too long since you got hurt to avoid scarring."
"It's fine, really. At least I can move without any trouble. Thank you." Asha replied with a small smile before suddenly pulling the cloak closer over his body, more aware of the chill now... or was it embarassment? "How's your friend? The... the green dragon?" he asked to change the topic. It was still weird, him talking to a dragon so casually.
"Alive, thanks to you." The new voice almost made Asharin jump and he bit back a swear as Lynesera hobbled into the light with a crutch. She looked a lot worse for the wear, a number of deep scars and even some bandages visible on her body. Apparently not even Alara could mend another dragon so easily. The most noticeable change was the large grass-green leaf covering Lyna's right eye, hiding most of the gash that started above her eyebrow and went down all the way to her cheekbone.
"That's the original reason we wanted to find you, to thank you for saving Lyna's life." Alara added, helping the green to sit across the druid at the fire.
"You two saved me first, I just returned the favor." Asha shook his head, this time feeling embarassed for sure.
"You didn't even know it was me until I spoke up, did you?" The green asked with a small smirk, her tone teasing.
The druid just cleared his throat, refusing to look at her.
"Either way, without your timely arrival, I would have been too late. For that, I'll always be grateful..." Alara countered as she walked back and took a seat next to him. "I almost forgot, we don't even know your name yet, do we?"
"No, not that I recall." Lyna clearly enjoyed tormenting him.
"My apologies for my slip in manners. My name is Asharin... but Asha will suffice, if you would prefer that." The kaldorei introduced himself belatedly.
"You already know my name, while my friend is Lynesera, but we just call her Lyna." The green waved her hand with a chuckle at Alara's introduction.
***
The two dragons continued the conversation in the same tone, mostly about common things, avoiding the war effort almost entirely. Asharin only commented a few times or when asked, he was more intrigued and was listening intently.
Eventually a comfortable silence descended. While Lyna was tracing her new scars, Alara's mind was elsewhere while gazing into the fire.
"Pssht, Alara! Hey!" The red was brought back to the present by the whispers of her friend, glancing at the green dragon in confusion. Lynesera just grinned, pointing at her side with a finger.
Alarastrasza suddenly tensed as she suddenly felt an unfamiliar weight on her shoulder, but relaxed upon glancing at the druid's sleeping face. She shifted position carefully, laying the druid's head down on her lap with gentle care and with a fond smile on her face, making sure his antlers didn't snag into anything.
Lyna almost snorted, but in the end just silently waved goodbye for the night and hobbled back to their shared tent with as little noise as she could manage.
Alara just nodded, shaking her head slightly at the green's departing back, gently stroking the druid's wild, violet mane of hair while watching the starry sky.
Fate was a strange thing, unfathomable even. If they didn't chance on Asharin back then and saved his life -and protected him a few times secretly during a battle or two- then he wouldn't have been able to protect and save Lynesera in turn. The green's fate aside, she was glad they met this strange druid, regardless of the fact that he was a mortal. If anything, that just made him more intriguing. She truly hoped all three of them would survive this war, and if helping him sleep soundly for tonight improved his chances just a tiny bit, she was content.
@daily-writing-challenge
11 notes · View notes
frostahesmegabite · 3 years
Text
The Ruins of Ahn'Qiraj
@daily-writing-challenge - Day 6 - Ruins Desert winds howl and whip through ancient ruins. Sand sent flying in random fits as the currents hit their piles and scattered dunes along shattered and broken walls and fixtures. Fountains once full, now dry and barren, filled with dead foliage or litter. Every now and again one can pick up the features of new fixtures that were already being torn into by the harsh environment, scavengers or some other forces at play. A couple of bullet casings here, poking through the sand. Some old cargo crates that held Old God knows what. A few skeletal remains that hadn’t quite been scooped up to be gnawed upon as of yet. Our protagonist for today keeps his figure covered in heavy robes and cloth to keep the howling sand from tearing at his face and skin. Red eyes and patches of green flesh poking through every so often when the wind threatened to expose him to the harsh sun above. Today Megahes was in the Ruins of Ahn’Qiraj. A damned place that no sane individuals called home or even came near if they could help it. Megahes wasn’t here for pleasure or to find real estate worth building upon or even to look for relics long-since past. He learned those lessons from when he came here with another group who had delusions of grandeur and riches only to watch half of their team get devoured by Silithid or Cultists. Today's storm was offering protection from such forces, but that wasn’t the only reason he’s being left alone here either. No, Mega and the Contingent made it further than their predecessors dared try. Passing the obstacles of old, Mega remembered each horrendous encounter with painful flashes that lash at his psyche. Echo’s to be sure, thanks to the Old God that was supposedly killed deep below. Contingent and Others being covered in egg-sack slime, only to discover that the armor some of them wore was their tomb as the slime contained small flesh eating insects that ate some of them a live while they howled and screamed in pain while trying to tear off their gear to try to fight them off. By that point, it was too late for them. Mega just had to put his head down, pushing the memory to the back of his head as he also pushed past the bodies and gear half covered in sand.
Tumblr media
Further in, memories got to be no better. This place is a living nightmare and moments of pain, horror and torment live on in it eternal. Flashes of fighting off legions of Silithid in narrow corridors with rifles, magic and flame throws burst forth as if Mega is living in those exact moments. Despite his attire, he feels the blast of heat from the flames that makes even the desert sun laughable. The dead armed feeling of countless rifle rounds being fired by the hundreds as piles of bugs were left to skitter atop one another in an effort to get to their next meal and to protect their nest. Sudden concussive blasts as grenades and other explosives were set off, some way too close to be cared for. So many close calls in these halls. That doesn’t even touch the massive Grave Slug that was made from the congealed corpses of their once fallen allies and numerous cultists that the Defiler had ritualistically sacrificed to create to stop them. It was a miracle they made it to fight off the horror of a Forsaken and Death Knight who had been corrupted. That being a lone left Mega with many a nightmare as he watched it deploy numerous tendril like attachments that devoured emotion just to inject a liquid fear into his would-be prey. How they managed to somehow beat such a horrendous killing machine of death, destruction and fear that blended some of the worst aspects of the Scourge with the Old Gods was well beyond him. Pure luck, really. A lot of these memories came to pass as Megahes began to ascend the massive staircase that led them all towards their goal. They came here to put Dinthoqaf the Defiler down, the Cult Leader of the Sanctum of the Forbidden. By the time they arrived, he had already begun a ritual to absorb mass quantities of Old God energy from a floating crystal that still remains to this day. His elven flesh erupted in grotesque magnitudes before he revealed himself to be a sickening hybrid of Preying Mantis and some kind of Mindflayer Qiraji with a tickle of Elven features. The fight that ensued took them hours to complete and by the end of it, by pure luck really, one of Mega’s people managed to land an explosive fireball of magic right in his face while his defenses were down, setting off a chain reaction of explosive magic and immolation. Megahes had not been able to partake in this battle, despite his wishes. He had been forced to watch from afar thanks to the curse that The Defiler left upon him. He would have been a handicap against insurmountable odds and his companies loyalty meant more to him than his words could have expressed then or at the time. Now, years later, the massive corpse had been turned into a sun-bleached husk and sand was beginning to cover a majority of it. It was this thing that Mega came to the Ruins of Ahn’Qiraj for. He needed to see this for himself due to his most recent nightmares. Something had been upsetting him and he wasn’t sure if it was just his fear getting the best of him or if there was something to it. Megahes came to the body, climbing up its frame once more just to get to what was left of the Man-Bugs face. Most flesh stripped, eyes gone and teeth falling to sand gathering in the remnants of his skull. He was quite effectively dead, no sense of magic lingering here anymore in the slightest, not even a twinge of undeath, thank Gold. “I hope you stay dead, you mother fucker. Light and anything else willing to listen on the day I find out some fuck brings you back.” Megahes swore he would never make what he used next. Megahes swore he’d never even touch a thing like this due to the political heat that came just from the conversation anymore, but this was extreme measures and Mega felt that this justified the end. His hands move into his clothing, pulling out a purplish blue shell of an item similar to a hand grenade but marked with magical ruins. To any who helped the Sunreavers and Goblins years ago, there would be no mistaking this item, for it was a replica of an instrument of mass death and destruction but on a much smaller scale. It had taken Mega many,
many months to acquire all the materials in such a fashion as to not raise concerns or flags just for this little thing. A Miniature Mana Bomb that was set with a timer. “I’ll make sure to finish what I should have done before we left here the first time. There won’t be a shred of you left for someone to try to bring back next time. No altars to make of your body, no armor to be made of your husk. Just a crater soon to be filled by sand and time you sick fuck.” The hate that Mega spoke with at the end was unfathomable, its depths a dark pool with unknown memories swimming its murky depths. A pool one knew not to try to cross or delve into. Megahes takes the explosive and slams it into his greatest enemy's open mouth, knocking out what teeth remained while cracking skull and faceplate alike to make room for it. Black painted claws poke at the timer attached, setting it for just a few minutes. That would be plenty enough for Megahes to make sure he got to safety and to see the explosion too. A guarantee to make his spirits lighter. His jog was plenty and he’d perch himself behind a nearby fallen pillar, plenty of distance away from the explosion and possible debris but enough that he’d know nothing was left. Tick. Tick. Tick. The explosion was immense and blinding, forcing Mega to bury his face in the sand as a light so white it was tickling the color of ice blue suddenly erupts. Air was sucked in and then blasted outwards, sending stone and debris in all directions, pelting anything nearby that could be hit. Soon, an eerie silence came as even the winds died, giving Megahes a moment of pure clarity to see that what was left was now destroyed, completely and utterly. “Good riddance ya crazy bastard.” Megahes took this moment to look around. The storm on his entry was dissipating and moving on. A smile comes to his face, seeing the peace that this place can hold for the first time since he stepped foot here. A prelude to the future, perhaps? Megahes can only hope as he takes out a portal stone from his gear and proceeds to head back home, his trip now completed and his sanity left intact and reinforced. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Far out of Megahes’ sight, two individuals watch from the shadows. The two of them looked well out of place, their clothing rather fancy and well-to-do with Silvermoon finery and silks as they appeared to be an elven mother and her son. The small boy walks out, exposing himself for a moment as Megahes’ portal flares to life, swallowing him and taking him to his destination. “Enjoy peace while you can, my little Goblin, we have so many more games to play, You and I.” The woman cast with him who one could swear was his mother, comes up behind him, running her fingers tenderly through his hair, twirling it lovingly much as Mothers did with their children. No words said, none needed, back to the shadows they slithered, fading from existence with but a single sound on the wind's whispering voice.
Tumblr media
Defiler.
13 notes · View notes