#sinstone
Text
🌈✨Workin on new versions 💕🌈✨
0 notes
Text
Johnny Cash doesn't sound like a real name to me anymore I'm too far gone, christ
#guys run while you still can#there's no fixing me#ive fully switched#this is my 2+2 is 5#in my winston era#sinston wmith if you will#okay but like actually tho im losing it#bro rewired my damn brain#the chonny jash propaganda is working. the jashaganda#that looks like jash agenda which also works i guess#the gay agenda? nah sorry im apart of the jash agenda#maybe i do need therapy#my therapist is gonna ask like “so whats going on in your Mind?” & im gonna fuckin lose my shit#there is no saving me. they WILL send my ass to the infirmary & this WILL be a mind electric reference#this is my mind electric#chonny jash#moss post#im sorry im like this#why is my brain this way#KJ is losing its mind again
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
hi hater *summons my verdant spheres* bye hater *hands you my entire sinstone and walks away*
#i will always think about him#i need to make a mog that uses his sinstone back piece that u get from the venthyr quest line#such a weird freak i love my little princess#kael'thas sunstrider#warcraft
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trixany Bingo: Which Songs Have You Seen on Stage?
PvME, an in-game Trixany concert, is coming up March 30! To help get y'all excited, we're playing a game... Bingo! Win prizes!
How to play: Reblog with the Warcraft parody songs you've seen Trixany perform at events in-game. Copy+paste from the list below, and if you think you've won, yell Bingo!!
The first three people to get 6 in a row (going in order down the list, without skipping any) win tumblr prizes! For example, 1 thru 6, or 6 thru 12, etc. Free spaces also count, use these to help you 😉
The person who has seen the MOST songs will also get a prize. These can be listed in any order. So you have 4 chances to win! Only one prize per person.
Prizes:
🏆 1st Place: You'll be a special guest on Trixany's Daily Mail Dalaran LIVE! talk show (tumblr or in-game RP)
🏆 2nd Place: Hiking with Sharpen, on an episode of Jade Trekker! (tumblr or in-game RP)
🏆 3rd Place: Trixany and Sharpen will make you a gift basket and deliver it to your door, in the next episode of Desperate Alts Lives! (tumblr only)
🏆 Most songs prize: Not only did you survive a lot of Trixany, phew! YOU get to choose the next parody song/tumblr story!! Give me a song link OR a theme, and I will do my best to amaze you.
Choose carefully, since you can't win Bingo and the most songs prize. Only one prize per person!
Your song list is below, good luck!
Copy+paste the songs you've seen in your re-blog. Don't forget to yell Bingo!
Heavy Nightborne Lover 🌸
Tumblr Criminal 🚔
Your Muse Against Me 🫂
Lorthy Man 👱♀️
Logging Off and On 🚫
Sinstone 🪦
Slay Dalaran City Clinic (FREE SPACE, find this Gaga parody on my tumblr)
Elf $$$ 🤑
Toxic Murloc 🐸
I Roleplay 🎤
Roleplay Got Back 🍑
Kael's Girl ❄️
No Roleplay in Quel'thaLA ☀️
I Love the Horde 😍
Tiny Girl Rock 👩🎤
Shan'doo 🌎
Sally Whitemane ⛪️
Teldrassil 🌳
Trixanylicious 🍰
Heal You 😇
Why Is Your Muse So Shirtless 💪
Plague Beautiful 🧪
RP Workout Plan (FREE SPACE, find this Kanye parody on my Tumblr)🥊
Fancy Transmog 👗
Bells, Bones, Sires, Fairies 🦋
Wrathion & Sabellian 🐲
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heels of the Hag: A Basic Witch Faire
A cross-faction Hallow's End gathering to celebrate a good harvest and honor the dead. Music, food, dancing and games brought to you by your humble adventure and trade guild @thecastcompany. Dress up in costume or in your most comfortable Autumn attire: ugg boots, oversized wool sweaters, scarves, sinstone necklaces, etc. Don't forget your Elixir of Tongues!
By some luck (or by magically contaminated soil) watermelons are still on the menu! Because they are in abundance, we will be carving those instead of pumpkins.
See details below on how to enter the Jack O' Melon carving contest.
#warcraft#rp#moon guard#wyrmrest accord#alliance#horde#basic witch#wow#world of warcraft#warcraft roleplay
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
of shame and sin
Sinvyrin’s knees hit the cold floor and the sound of his laughter echoed flatly against the stone walls. He lifted his dead eyes, looking up and up at the venthyr whose feet didn't even dare touch the ground; there in his arms rested the blood elf’s sinstone, almost comically large. It only made Sin’s grin grow cheshire, stretching wide across his cheeks.
“You know,” he said, unable to help the mirthful tone despite how hoarse his voice was. “You'd think there was a better way than stones. I mean, the metaphor is very pretty and all, but then you poor bastards are stuck carrying them around and-- you know, you don't have a lot of muscle tone for someone who carries large rocks all d--”
A strangled cry was caught in Sin’s throat as the venthyr lifted a hand and began draining the anima from his body; the man’s expression was one of pure disgust. “And you would think,” he replied, the Harvester’s tone prim and tight, “that a man in a compromised position would learn to keep his mouth shut.”
The blood elf’s body sagged further onto the floor and left him on his hands and knees. It was painful and it was dizzying, but more than anything else it was so fucking funny and Sin couldn't stop laughing. It was a barely-there wheezing sound that the venthyr at first mistook as pain and seemed satisfied, but when Sinvyrin began to struggle to his feet again his expression rapidly fell to one of contempt and confusion.
“You know,” Sin started again, swaying as he stood up once more. “How long has it been-- months? Longer? Longer. And here's the thing about redemption.” Sin grinned wide as he stepped forward, lifting his chin to peer up at the venthyr. “Redemption requires shame. And, my dear man, I am not ashamed. Of any of this--” He reached with one finger and trailed the tip against the outer edge of the sinstone as the venthyr watched him warily. “--or anything that's to come. Shame is a weakness. So why don't we skip past the preaching and we can get to the real reason why you walk--.. floated all the way over here with that hunk of stone.”
Sin did what he did best: he played a bet. His hand lifted from the sinstone, up and up to dark gray skin that felt cool to the touch under his palm as he traced the venthyr’s jaw. The touch was slow but his smile was sly at the edges as his thumb eased across the Harvester’s thin lips.
It was of no surprise to Sin when he felt the barest tilt of the other man’s face toward his palm. Sin never lost a bet.
Sin stood by the crumbling cliffside, watching the trio of dogs tear through the snow and mud as they snapped at each other's heels. The stick he'd thrown out there an hour ago was long since forgotten, replaced by the manic energy of animals in their element: playing, hunting, howling. It brought Sin some pleasure to watch as he smoked his cigarette and carefully placed a knife against the center of his palm.
He'd only done the ritual a handful of times since leaving Revendreth, but there was nothing that would make him forget it. He pricked his own pale skin, inscribing the rune in his hand as a thick layer of blood began to pool in his palm. He reached into his belt pouch, trading the knife for a tarnished piece of silver; his cigarette hanging perilously low off of his lips as curls of smoke ascended up to the air. Down below in the field, Sable paused at the smell of blood, but the other two still ran through the snow.
He smeared his blood against the old shard of the mirror as he held it aloft, wrinkling his nose. "Come on now," he muttered. "Hasn't been that long for you to forget about me."
Only a moment passed before the shard lifted from his hand, drawing his blood away as it did: a payment for the price of the spell. Sin shook out of palm, only glancing aside once as Sable loped through the snow and towards him, her white ears pricked forward and her yellow eyes all too watchful.
The face that appeared in the mirror looked identical to the one he saw years ago: gray-skinned and narrow, his hair quaffed with gold and silver that did nothing to hide the ugly slits of his red eyes. Sin smiled at him, but the venthyr only met the expression with disgust -- and, perhaps, a touch of curiosity. "I was hoping you had died and fell to the Maw," he drawled. "How unfortunate."
Sin laughed, lowering his hand as Sable licked the blood away with concern. "Don't talk like you don't miss me," the sinner crooned, delighting in the way the harvester visibly recoiled on the other side of the blood-stained silver. "I've come to collect on my half of the deal -- and then you can be done with me. Won't that be nice?"
The venthyr's disgust tempered into something more critical, mingled with suspicion. "It will be a delight," he replied. "As much as I am loathe to do it. What do you require, sinner?"
"Nothing much. Just one spirit." In the half-light of the wilderness, surrounded by snow and dogs and little else, Sin's smile stretched cheshire.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
DWC August 2022 Day 2- Forever, Displaced
"This way..." Deagra muttered to the small gargoyle, a rather chatty little guy named Grisel, a feint line of violet magic piercing the night as they traversed the old mausoleums in the old grounds near the Halls. After clearing out the Sire's loyalists, the Accuser was settling back in, and the first order of business was getting the long forgotten souls out of solitary confinement. Luckily, Deagra's had been taught the spellwork required to steal souls, under the harsh tutelage of the family's warlock, but with that unsavory practice also contained the ability to sense and locate souls, and, given a personal belonging tied to a specific person, she could track down a -specific- soul.
Few belongings were as personal as a sinstone, it turned out.
As she placed the skeleton key in the old worn stone, it shifted with magic, and opened into the small chamber within. Deagra was glad she had avoided this fate in her penance, she'd heard some proud souls dwelled in such a small space for years, even decades. Humbling, she supposed, to have nothing but reflection and time.
The pitiful thing had run to the corner, blinded by the meager light that Grisel had brought to light her way. The little thing chuckled and flew above the tomb. She wasn't sure what sort of creature it had been in life, some sort of humanoid slug of some sort? It called out voice whimpering and disbelieving.
"W-where were you... waited for so long... It was just a few weeks, she said... just a few... but no one..."
"No one came, I know." Deagra's voice was very soft, still a bit unnatural for her, but she'd come to know these being's plights well over her time here. She reached a hand out, a risk. "It's alright, an injustice has been done to you, even to one such as you. It will be made right." she exhaled as the being reached out with a slimey pseudopod of a limb and wrapped if around hers, pulling themselves up.
"I... thought I would be there forever." she could sense the despair in their voice, the relief, the caution.
Deagra looked up at the reddened sky, "No, nothing stays here forever."
Except the Venthyr, of course.
Her, in all likelihood.
Someday.
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hellhound: Hellraisers Pt. 2
DWC August 2022
Day 2: Forever/Displaced
The following is a modified chatlog of the RP between myself, Ranek, and Caythaes to retrieve the final portion of Terry’s split soul. The first had fallen into the Maw, and at the insistence of Eonar the Life-binder, had been rescued first as its situation had been far more dire. Now, they had to fetch the remaining one from Revendreth, where reports of it wreaking merry havoc in the Ember Ward had spread far and wide. Once Cay had made the full details of the problem known to the Accuser, they were provided with supplies and a plan: find the beast, subdue it (ideally without killing it), and wait for her to find his sinstone. Though it was a forged one, it would hopefully still serve its intended purpose once read aloud.
There was rather a lot of bickering discussion at Sinfall over the best way to handle a worgen that was described as “big, fast, angry (rabid?), spits Light sometimes, eats Light sometimes, seems fixated on Venthyr for now, ignores anything physical that’s less than a building falling on it.” Once they’d decided (independently of one another) who would be the sacrificial lamb for the beast, they set off to hunt him down.
Also, I dunno how many other people do it, but in case it’s confusing, the house rule ‘round these parts is that Thalassian = Spanish and Shalassian = French. It’s easier than trying to dredge up what fragments of each language I can find and making stuff up in the moment!
And yes I’m going to keep up the Hellraiser title references as long as I can. Fight me.
The attendant at Sinfall was apparently well-informed, or at least, not so poorly informed that they got things backward. It didn’t take the Cay and Ranek very long at all to start seeing signs of the recent fighting on the ground once they got far enough from Sinfall proper: trees with the tops sheared off, scattered burnt or burning bodies in wildly varying conditions; if either of them had been familiar enough with the Ember Ward to notice it, they'd have recognized several of the ruins had been ruined even further, smashed into and through. The airborne phoenix easily made out an alarming number of what looked like laser burns in the cracked dirt and in the various piles of rubble they passed over, and Ranek passed through.
Ranek, in particular, noticed there was precious little movement to be spotted on the way to the Scorched Crypt, and absolutely none once he was within sight of the wall of the first terrace. Even in the Ember Ward, there was the occasional scuttling of hardy insects or emaciated birds, but here? Nothing at all.
He kept his Worgen snout down, keeping track of scents to filter and catalogue, though there were precious few to be found in the dirt. As they got closer and closer, the red flags came in waves; no signs of life, no sounds even by the standards of a crypt. At least this was a good sign for hunting a powerful predator.
Cay couldn’t help but be impressed by the damage from their bird’s-eye view. They didn’t know you could make the Ember Ward any worse, but the rampaging beast had done it.
Their feathers itched, and the closer they got to the crypt, the less it felt like itching than a somewhat insistent pull. Magnets under the skin close to magnets outside, but the polarities didn't quite agree, but they still wanted to be near one another, and GOD, that's uncomfortable...
The crypt should have been crawling with condemned Venthyr and feral souls seeking shelter from the oppression of the Light. Where was everyone?
"Good news, Ranek! If- if Terry's feeling anything like- like what I'm currently experiencing, n-neither of us will need to get hurt. F-follow me, I- I know exactly how to find him."
Ranek didn’t look directly up at Cay as he advanced, the sheer destruction blowing his mind. This was something far more dangerous than he’d expected, even with the briefing they’d been given. He simply nodded, gesturing that he would follow.
The scene within the walls of the courtyard wasn't much more comforting. The silence for the pair was almost as brutal as the heat for the condemned, the lack of movement in the air leaving them with the discomforting feeling that time had stopped. Pits and gouges were everywhere, torn into the dead grass and cracked dirt, easy to trip over and occasionally as long as Ranek's shoulders were wide. Many of them had pale, yellowish puddles at the bottom of them, not unlike muddy water in carriage tracks. Except for the lack of horseshit (or anything else, really) in the smell of it, kinda made a Gilnean lad think of home.
Thinking about it... the lack of smell and the lack of movement was one thing, that was starting to become normal pretty fast. But now, there was a lack of bodies, too. Plenty of wreckage to be found, but no... well, pieces. Ranek found a scrap of tattered cloth hanging from a tree branch after a minute of dedicated searching, but nothing more substantial than that. He gently tugged the scrap down, inhaling the scent–finally, a SCENT, if only a little bit of one–to get a proper clue to begin searching for their target.
To Cay, up in the air? Something moved. Somewhere. They weren’t sure what or where but something definitely moved. Right? Maybe it was just Ranek. Except… Ranek was over there, and the movement had been over here, and– Something moved again. What. They let out an anxious keen and shifted their flight, spiraling upwards in hopes of getting a better view of the situation, looking for more movement or anything that wasn't Ranek. "I saw –something, be alert."
Ranek’s head snapped around as Cay spoke. He strained his ears to find some sort of sound to focus on.
As they both shifted their focus, they saw a shift in the ground, though it was hard to tell what it was. A small animal? An errant breeze? No bodies to spot, though, nothing small scurrying about, and certainly nothing big. Maybe something invisible? No, there were no footfalls, either; Ranek would have heard them, or at least seen the prints forming in the dirt.
What had at first seemed like spatters and puddles of dirty water revealed itself to be something else entirely, shifting and roiling in the various places where it lay until it trickled down walls, slid across the bumpy dirt, and slithered through dead grass. From above, Cay could clearly see that all the individual puddles of fluid were all moving toward a single point, steadily growing brighter and brighter as they converged on Ranek.
Ranek, of course, could see an awful lot of creepy brownish-gold shit snaking toward him at high speeds... just not all of it. His ears swiveled at the sounds of the moving liquid, too late to see them begin to pool in his general direction. He was looking for a more solid target, a humanoid shape instead of flowing liquid.
"Anar'alah, is he water?" Caythaes immediately shifted back to elf mode in a burst of flames, slowing their descent the magical way and throwing a bubble as soon as they were close enough to Ranek to do it. The bubble startled the Worgen, causing him to erupt in growling and fighting against it before seeing the puddles and scrambling backward instead. SPLAP! Several of the "puddles" chose that moment to lunge up toward Ranek only to hit the shield with a wet, sticky smack and cling on.
A few more reached their destination before he was done fighting against his shield, and Ranek could see them joining together as they met. Other puddles found him faster due to his frantic scrambling, approaching him from all directions, but they didn't seem to be quite able to accomplish much besides obscuring his view. Yet.
Cay, from the outside, could see the unsettling horror show unfolding, though thankfully, their bubble seemed to be holding. Slowfalling gave them a few seconds not only to stare at Ranek in utter dismay, but also to try and figure out their next move. Unfortunately, the instant their feet touched the ground, several blobs veered off. Beelining straight for them, they sprang up and off the ground once they got within arm's length, aiming for the face!
Caythaes threw up a bubble with a squeal of terror as the blobs launched. Well, when all you have is a fire… They did not want to blast things with fire so close to their face, but that was just what they were going to have to do. Squeezing their eyes shut, Caythaes turned their face away as they threw out their hand, sending a blast of fire exploding from their palm.
Ranek, at a loss for other options, rushed toward Cay to at least try and stand back to back with them. The large mass on Ranek's bubble eagerly clung along for the ride, stretching out with unsettling, stringy tendrils toward the one forming on Cay as Ranek brought them closer together. Right about that time... his bubble began to sizzle audibly, and cracks spiderwebbed across the magical barrier. He wasn’t sure what would happen once the shields fell off, but it probably wasn’t good.
Fire near the face was nobody's favorite, at least not when they're in their right mind, but no one can say it doesn't get results. The water, or liquid Light, or whatever the hell it was recoiled from the blasts, finally relenting with a gurgling squeal not unlike Cay's own voice a moment ago. Just. You know. Wetter.
Peeling itself from Cay's bubble, the mass hit the ground with another dull splat and began slithering away. Seeing the gooey sludge slither down their shield filled Cay with a primal sort of revulsion, and they cupped a hand over their mouth as they dry heaved. For all the horrible scenarios they came up with while getting ready for this fight, this was so much worse. What the fuck did they even do?
Well, stupid ideas worked the last time, so Caythaes swiped a hand through the air and pulled back, Yoinking Ranek the rest of the way to join them. They hoped that if they got all the blobs together, it'd form an easier target to fight.
Ranek’s arms flailed for purchase as he was Yoinked. "FUCKING FEL, CUT IT OUT!" This was vastly out of control, and he was at a loss for what to do, and he hated it. He growled, losing his footing and rolling to a stop. He jumped almost immediately back to his feet but stayed put once he saw the slime on the move.
"Sorry!" Caythaes squeaked, reaching out a hand to steady Ranek as he landed and cringing back as slime flew everywhere. Anar'alah Belore, they wished they hadn't had so many teacakes before this.
The squelching horror seemed to be mocking Ranek, throwing his words back at him in squishing, burbling pops and hisses for a moment as it impacted upon itself with Cay's help. Ever played with slime as a kid? Put two big hunks of it in your hands and clap, then peel them apart? It was like that, but with speech. And then it was just like that: the mass mashed into itself with an almost gleeful fervor, rolling and surging across the ground in a cacophony of wet, semi-organic noises.
Rolling, surging... and growing. That... that was a lot of goo. There was more coming down from the main crypt up the hill, too; it seemed like it just took a while for it to get down to this level. Thankfully, none of it was paying attention to Cay’s bubbles anymore, though Ranek had much too close a call. As the last dregs of his gooey assailant loosed from the magical barrier, it failed, fizzling out as the goo plopped onto his boot and burned a hole straight through it before letting go.
A string of curses came from the Gilnean, enough to peel paint off a whorehouse as his boot was partially melted, the protective cover gone from the top of his right foot, including fur and some flesh. It was a unique searing pain that made him bite down but not howl, only angering the Worgen.
"Th-that definitely worked, though. We- oh-" they look down at Ranek's boot, their ears drooping sadly. "I- I think we just have to, uh. M-make sure we don't touch any of that."
"No shit, but how will weapons work if it burns that hot.. or melts. Either way, I am going to have to be a lot more careful than you."
While they watched, trying to keep their stomachs from turning themselves inside out--would the result look like the mass in front of them?--and trying not to think about their partially melted tootsies, the slimy blob began to form itself into something more solid. Or at least more solid-looking; who knew? Eventually, limbs formed, and a humanoid torso at the joining of them, enormous and barrel-chested. A great, pointed head rose from the top, sharp, angled ears jutting out from it and brilliantly white fangs popping out of a muzzle as it was still taking shape.
As its feet and hands formed, it fell forward into a hunch, hands thudding audibly into the dirt and coming to an end in wicked, dull claws. Top-heavy and gorilla-like, save for that wolfish face, the beast began to dry out, then heat up, glowing like clay in a kiln until it's almost too bright to look at, white and tipped in orange.
A roar like a great flame erupting from a fissure in the earth, more sensation than sound, almost enough to blow out the eardrums, clipping in and out of audibility from the depth and volume alone, exploded from a now foaming maw as Terry finally reformed, fifteen feet tall and glowing like lava.
Anar'alah Belore. Cay's ears drooped even farther as the blob kept getting bigger, and then... turned into a Worgen so much bigger than they were expecting.
"H-hi Terry," they whimper, popping up another pair of protective barriers for themself and Ranek.
"THAT is Terry? Light above, that is a big Worgen." He planted his feet despite the pain and summoned a pair of blades made from pure shadow.
"Y-you go left, I go right?"
Ranek nodded, darting left and moving to flank the beast. At least one of them would be able to strike.
It was hard to tell which way the beast looked unless he moved his head; the eyes were merely another point of light in a Worgen-shaped sun. Once the pair got far enough apart, though, it became clear that he was watching Caythaes, and Ranek could see him dig his claws into the dirt a second before he launched himself after The One In The Dress. He raised one enormous meathook of a hand high, clearly intent on either smashing the elf, or impaling them.
POONK! Terry's hand hit Cay's shield, shattering it on impact and sending them flying sideways with a sound like kicking one of those red rubber playground balls from elementary school. Cay's brain did that near-death-experience thing where they experienced slow motion and had time to realize Terry’s hand was big enough to wrap completely around their torso.
This is fine. Caythaes trusted their bubble to absorb the worst of the hit, and they skidded to a halt as they started singing to themself. Motes of darkness appeared around Terry's massive head, coalescing into an orb before exploding outwards. They hoped the shock from the spell would disorient Terry long enough for Caythaes to get off a more powerful one, or Ranek to distract him, or both. Anything besides being murdered was a good option, really.
Almost on cue, Ranek came in at a dead sprint, aiming a vicious slice at Terry’s hindmost leg and ripping a nasty gash across his calf. Terry was prevented from any meaningful follow-through by the explosion around his head, and that well-aimed slice ripped a furious howl from him as he spun to face the more direct threat.
The Gilnean watched as both of their strikes worked, but the speed with which it swiped Cay and turned to face him made his mismatched eyes widen.
Bringing both hands up above his head, Terry curled his fingers in as far as he was able, and brought them down like a haymaker from hell.
As those hands came up, Ranek swallowed hard. "Shiiiiiiiit." If he went back, he could get hit. Left or right, the beast could swipe him. So…the only logical choice was closer. He leaped forward to roll on the ground and make more slices at Terry's legs. Ranek's gamble paid off in a couple of ways: first, he didn’t get absolutely flattened into the dirt, though he did feel the impact and nearly stagger from it. Second, he could see the first wound he left on Terry's leg, an ugly, dark mark that slowly filled in with white-gold and eventually shifted back to the same color as the rest of his body. The final color seemed just a bit less white and a bit more orange now, overall.
Caythaes was grateful the only thing they had to worry about getting hit with was the ground for the moment. Too dazed for any real spellwork, they took a deep breath, letting out a dissonant scream, hoping to scare the beast away from Ranek and buy them both some time. It didn't quite frighten the monstrosity, but it did force him to bring his hands back up and cover those radar dish ears of his, stomping forward and away from Ranek, but in a vaguely Cay-ward direction.
The shriek did affect Ranek as well; clamping his eyes shut and growling loudly at the noise, he just thanked his lucky stars he was out of harm's way for the moment.
That was… the exact opposite of what Cay’d been hoping for. Their ears tipped back as they pulled desperately at the ground, tendrils of red anima rising up and wrapping around them. Ranek, spotting Cay’s escape attempt, moved back to Terry's side, slashing away at arm, flank, and leg; if it was close enough, it got a knife in it. Anything to pull attention away from Cay for the few seconds they needed to sink into the ground.
Taking the doggo's toy away made him a very angry doggo, and he snarled furiously at the space where Cay was, only for that sound to twist up into another pained yowl. Ranek ripped right into his distracted ass one, two, three times before he swung his arm blind, clipping the smaller Worgen's right arm with all the force of a speeding tram.
The clip was more painful than a straight hit from a Tauren, Ranek’s right arm feeling like it was torn from its socket. He howled in pain and anger, focusing on his left-hand blade while the right slowly got feeling back. He swiped again and again, his attention primarily focused on Terry's clawed hands.
A pool of anima opened up directly behind Terry, and Caythaes rose out of it, throwing another blast of fire at the giant lava-gen's back. The fire seemed to push him down more from the force than any actual damage; Cay finally realized that heat wouldn’t do much good. Cay also finally spotted the effect of Ranek's wounding, the dark rips that filled with molten gold and faded slowly to match the rest of him. After that many rapid-fire blows, the overall color of his body was noticeably less bright.
Oh.
"Ranek! St-stop trying to protect me and- and just keep hitting him!" they shout, throwing a volley of three fireballs at Terry to draw attention back to themself. "I- I can't hurt him; only you can! You- you have to trust me and- and focus on- on getting as many hits in as you can!"
"What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?!" He had a small laugh to his voice, owed to the pain in his arm and his frantic darting in and out of Terry’s range.
After a little pause, Cay shifts their attention to shout, "Hey TERRY. SHEDWYN misses you and- and- andandand wants you to come home now!"
Shalassian coming out of a mouth lined by gleaming white stalactites in a snout that glowed like beaten steel was a trip, but he very clearly roared "MON CIEL" directly at Cay, spittle flying from his mouth. It was a bellow of possession, a roar of challenge, of affront; how dare they speak her name at him? And yet, he didn't get a chance to act on his mad outrage, occupied with batting away the flurry of slices at his big ol' mitts. He put up with this for a few seconds before snarling something undoubtedly much less poetic and reeling back for another haymaker on poor Ranek.
Caythaes sighed in exasperation, throwing a shield at Ranek before switching languages and shouting again. Their Shalassian was nowhere near as poetic as Terry's, but they were hoping the sound of it would be enough. "[Your sky is worried, Terry! She has searched the Shadowlands for you, and she will not rest. Come back to Shedwyn. You can finally stop fighting.]"
Ranek did not understand the words between Cay and Terry, but the momentary distraction allowed him to stab deep with his good arm, twisting the knife until he looked up to see the haymaker coming. He already had a wounded arm, so he turned to take the hit on his right side. He could hear something pop, most likely his shoulder or a rib. The blow lifted him up and off his feet to land in a slow roll. The shield Cay had given him had, at least, prevented his death.
Ranek now sufficiently dealt with for the moment, Terry turned his attention fully on the impudent little shit that kept speaking of his mate.
Then he bent down, picked up the crumpled Worgen's body, and hurled it at the elf.
Caythaes hit the ground with an "oof" as all the wind was knocked from their lungs. Ranek was jarred to semi-consciousness when he impacted Cay, but the blow made him see stars all over again. With Ranek stunned, this would be a lot harder than they'd like, but they were not about to let this be the end yet. They put another barrier on Ranek as they got back up, but this one felt different before– if Caythaes could get their spell off in time, healing en–
Someone started semi-yelling about parties and getting ready to die, and it took a second for Cay to remember that they’d changed their comm’s ringtone recently.
Why the FUCK was their comm going off? Okay, new plan; Caythaes used their other Door of Shadows to get behind Terry again, dragging Ranek along with them.
"I can stand…sort of." Ranek struggled to his feet, breathing heavily, and manifested another blade in his left hand. The Worgen curse allowed for faster healing, but it was nothing that could fix his body during this fight. Cay's aura helped dull the pain enough to let his right arm dangle at his side and focus on using his left.
Finally, Cay answered the call. "If- if this is anyone other than Belore, Eonar, or Shedwyn, I'm- I'm a bit busy trying to, uh. Not die right now."
"I don't know who any of those people are, but if you want to keep your tongue long enough to explain that at a later date, I expect you to keep this channel open." The Accuser ... was probably smiling when she said that, but gosh, it was hard to tell.
Terry's footfalls were awfully loud when they weren’t being interrupted by shouting, roaring, or blows landing, and they were coming closer.
He could almost certainly take a simple leap and close the distance without effort, but he was stalking them, eyes fixed unblinkingly on them while they babbled into a rock. Steam curled up from between his teeth as his body slowly cooled further, now a dull orange that was both better and worse than the white-hot he started with. The various slices and cuts Ranek had given him–as well as dozens upon dozens of others crisscrossing his entire body–glowed an angry red that was much more visible now.
"I don't suppose you still have need of that Sinstone, courtier?"
"O-oh, Madam Accuser, I didn't- one moment-" Caythaes pauses to press a hand to Ranek's side, giving his shadow magic a little boost to help numb the pain. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm- I'm putting you on speaker, p-please do the thing!!"
One button later, Caythaes held the comm out towards Terry like a tiny shield.
Terry was... understandably puzzled, for a moment, by the small thing holding up a rock at him, and for a moment, he actually laughed, before the Accuser's voice exploded out of it. She was in full oratory mode, and it was a great and terrible voice that announced, "LET THE SINS OF TERRENCE SAMUEL AMBROCE BE KNOWN HENCEFORTH..."
Immediately he was done playing, letting out a horrific snarl and charging at Cay and Ranek.
Welp, Cay was out of Doors, so it was every person for themself. They gestured to the ground at Ranek's feet, throwing down a rune that would grant him a quick speed boost before doing the same for themself and darting to the side. They continued to–they paused to turn the volume up on their comm to full blast before continuing to hold it up.
Buy some time. Ranek charged forward to meet Terry halfway. The blade dissipated, and instead, he focused on the very shadows at Terry's feet, springing to reality a chain between the two Worgen. Ranek ran to the side, pulling tight on the chain to at least unbalance Terry and steer him away from Cay.
"Whose desire for adoration and glory saw him forsake his familial bonds…"
The commstone crackled with the red energies of Revendreth's anima as the Accuser spoke, and Terry's lip curled higher as he found his claws raking across only dirt and rock instead of elven flesh and bone.
"Whose arrogance saw him bargain for and with bodies, lives, and lands that were never his…"
The chain hissed and began to heat rapidly where it held him, and he had little time to do anything about it before he was staggering on one foot, arms wobbling almost comically before he regained his balance.
"Wow," Caythaes whispers as the Accuser speaks, scooting away as Terry staggers, trying to get out of crushing range should he fall.
Ranek held the chain tight and tugged hard, though with Terry's full attention shifted, he had serious doubts he could go toe to toe. But distracting and wounding were his only priorities. Believing the chain to be burning the great beast instead of the other way around, he held on as long as he could.
"Whose hatred was so unreasoning and vast that he saw no value in lives that were not human…"
"Oh, y-yeah, Leon did mention he- he was kinda racist, so-" That sin didn't surprise Cay much.
He'd been cooled rather a lot by now, but Terry was still too hot for metal to touch him and not get a glow-up. It still did an excellent job of frustrating him, even as he got his wits enough to snap his caught leg back and drag Ranek toward him. Stupidly, Ranek kept hold, so he was launched forward. He growled in response, charging Terry in a foolish attempt to slide between his legs and take the monster down with him.
"Whose pride allowed him to atone only for what he deemed a worthy mistake…"
The crackling around the commstone solidified into an ominous red glow, pulsating with the cadence of the Accuser's words.
"Sh-should I throw the comm at him? Or do we- is this when we start hitting him again? I've- I've never been to- to a Sinstone reading before." All the rituals they’d attended were the ones that involved fighting oozy sins made manifest.
"Who refused the hands that would save him, over and over again, even as he destroyed those he loved and lost himself..."
Terry grinned a vicious, evil grin as Ranek flew toward him and bent double. The sound of one Worgen slamming headfirst into the skull of another was an incredibly satisfying, coconut-like CLONK, but also it hurt way more than the friggin' giant seemed to be expecting, and they both reeled. The collision instantly knocked Ranek out, and like a puppet with its strings cut, Ranek dropped on the spot. He would not find out till later that the gamble worked.. just nowhere near how he expected it to work.
The glow around the commstone intensified, and anima manifested around it now, swirling around Cay's hand and then snapping out toward Terry. The Accuser's voice rose to a dull roar, despite her speaking with the same cold, dignified authority that she commanded at all times.
"Knowing his debts and their unworldly weight, he has yet to see them paid in full!"
Binds of furious red curled around Terry's wrists, dragging his arms back and preventing him from mauling Ranek any further.
"Faithless and heartless, this wretched soul stands destined for the Maw, lest he accept our final outstretched hand!"
Three more binds appeared on his ankles and finally around his massive neck, then practically threw him to the ground like Cay had snapped his leash. With a final angry flash, a glowing red muzzle clamped down on his snout, and he thrashed wildly, but to no avail.
After a few seconds of silence, the Accuser cleared her throat. "Well. Either that worked, or all of you are dead."
Terry hit the ground, and Caythaes stumbled a bit, then decided fuck it and just plopped down on their ass. Anar'alah, that sucked.
"G-given that I'm sure Ranek and I p-probably have a few sins to work off, and the fact that - that we're already here? I- I think we wouldn't go far, if we died. Th-thank you, he's... well, he's definitely not going anywhere, but uh- I- I don't know how we're going to- to get him over to Ardenweald." They paused to eye Terry over. "He's very... Big."
The Accuser clinically explained that the bindings she created lashed the soul directly to the sinstone, regardless of distance. It wouldn't do much for his weight, but that turned out to be less of a problem the longer they waited; as the body cooled off more and more, Terry seemed to be losing mass, excess material cracking and crumbling off of him like wood burning too long. The crumbly ez-bake-Worgen finally settled somewhere around nine and a half feet tall. He was still god damn huge, but not uh. That. Anymore.
"I'll send a few attendants with a carriage as quickly as they're able. If I can secure one or two stoneborn, it will of course be much quicker, but they are frequently occupied with more important matters, I'm afraid. Once the soul is safely within Sinfall, I can inspect it more closely." A brief pause, then, "In truth, I'm delighted that this worked at all. He was never dead, and the sinstone was a forgery, so... a bit dicey, hmm?"
"I- I don't think he's going anywhere, so. T-take your time. I- I appreciate everything you've-" They paused and exhaled a soft sigh. "I know there's... so many things of- of a higher priority, but- but I am very grateful for- for all you've done, Madame Accuser. I- I don't think we could have done this without you."
"Yes, I know; I am amazing, magnanimous, and extremely good at my job. But you are welcome. Let me know if anything changes."
Caythaes glanced over to Terry for a moment, figuring they could probably float him to make loading him into a carriage easier, then looked back to Ranek.
It took some time before Ranek blinked his eyes open again with a loud groan of pain. Now that Terry was no longer able to kill anyone and Ranek was groaning, Caythaes got up and walked over to him, squatting down at his side.
"Gods... who was blabbering their mouth?" He rolled his eyes.
"TH-that was the lady who saved your ass, b-be nice to her, or- or she'll probably rip you a new one," Caythaes deadpans, shaking their head as they end the call and add whatever number the Accuser called them from to their contact lists. Wonder if she'd like cat pictures?
"Congratulations. I have- I have a skinned knee and probably a- a bruised hip."
Ranek groaned loudly, looking up at Cay. "G... good. Everything hurts. Wait.." He took a second. "Nope. My right hand is numb. Thought it was fine. Are my fingers wiggling?" They were not.
"I- I think you dislocated your shoulder. Do- do you want me to set that for you? I- I am very angry with you, by the way."
Ranek took a few breaths. "Dislocated shoulder, cracked rib or two. That head butt didn’t crack my head.. though my neck hurts." He chuckled softly, which became a cough. "Oh, don't get high and mighty. You made as many decisions to put yourself in harm’s way as I did. We did a good job protecting each other, so just.. leave it at that."
"A-anyway, even if I did, I- I somehow managed to- to come out relatively unscathed, didn't I? Y-you ever hear of dodging?" Shaking their head, Caythaes very gently rested a hand on Ranek's chest, humming as they pumped enough healing energy into him to stop the internal bleeding and make it safe for them to move him. "S-sit up. I'm- I need to pop your arm back into place and bandage it."
"Ah.. well. Glad she helped." He sighed, slowly sitting up with a pained grunt. "I dodged plenty. If I had taken any of those.. except for the last, I would be dead, or close to it." He looked up at his dear friend and patted their cheek with his good hand. "You did great. And for the record, I was luring Terry into a false sense of security by charging him. I had to do something." He laughed and nodded. "Set it."
Caythaes gave Ranek a look that clearly showed they disagreed, but they let it be, shaking their head as they shifted positions. Taking Ranek's dislocated arm with one hand and bracing against his shoulder with the other, they pulled until the shoulder bone moved and popped back into place. Then, Caythaes pulled out the bandages they were sent with.
"P-part of me wants to believe that, if I make you heal manually, th-the pain might make you reconsider your choices, but-" they grumbled as they bound Ranek's arm in place and fashioned him a nice little sling. "I- I also feel like, if you haven't learned by now, y-you're not going to. But I'm still annoyed, so- so I'm not going to be nice."
A bit more bickering and shenaniganery passed on the way back to Sinfall to meet up with the Accuser and figure out what to do with their quarry. By the time they'd all gathered again, the oversized Worgen had hardened into something not unlike twice-fired clay and gone inert. It was blissfully quiet but very disconcerting up till it was confirmed that he was, in fact, still alive in there. The Accuser was... rather put out, to put it mildly, once she'd been given a more detailed explanation of just how half a soul had ended up like this. Among far harsher terms, she'd referred to Eonar as incompetent. Once her temper had settled, she set about figuring out the best way to separate the soul from the wierd, wierd body.
After about an hour, she just had a dredger hit him with a hammer and chisel while she held a soulkeeper at ready. To her own annoyance, it worked just fine, and she almost spiked the thing like a football before passing it off and all but pleading to get that absolute headache out of her sight.
Reassembling the soul pieces is somebody else's problem.
Also it turned out that comm number Cay had saved was for the dredger that’d asked for everyone’s teeth if they’d died. Good news is, Muckle does like cat photos.
( @daily-writing-challenge @mekandawn @ranekvilmas )
#and so arrives terry#modified chatlog#caythaes#ranek#rp stuff#the light in lordaeron#why am I always surprised at how long these get#dwc
6 notes
·
View notes
Video
youtube
(Music: Reaper Man by Mother Mother)
A wave of fog rolls out as the music starts, clinging close to the ground. Lights come up on the cage, revealing a figure within. Celedyn paces the length of the cage, clad in opulent layers of iridescent white with his skin painted to match.
The clear soles of his high heels make it look as though the elf is drifting above the fog, but a heavy chain attached to his collar keeps him grounded as does the sinstone bound across his back - the vices carved into it too neumerous to read.
Celedyn pauses as he spots his audience, slinking over to the bars. The elf doesn't beg, doesn't cling desperately; instead he seems entertained by his own predicament. He slides his hands reverently up his own chains, drags his nails against the rough stone.
Celedyn picks over the links of his chain, singling out one in particular. He leans down, wedging it where the cage bars meet the brace. The elf gives a conspiratorial smirk and twists sharply away, wrenching the weakened link open.
Celedyn shrugs off his sinstone and rises to his full height, luxuriating in the moment. He leaps, grabbing a horizontal swinging bar and smoothly pulls himself up, one leg escaping the tangle of his robes to hook around the bar.
Celedyn hangs, relaxed against the cascade of cloth, sliding hands across his unburdened chest. He lifts his other leg, toes pointed, and uses it as a counterbalance for one great swing, pulling himself up to sit on the bar.
The ghostly elf glances to the crowd, a sinister look in his eye as he reaches up to retrieve something secreted away up in the ceiling of the cage. The stage lights glint off the bright surface of a thin stiletto knife.
Celedyn slashes his robe, slitting the fabric smoothly all the way up his thigh, across his hip, stopping just below the belly. He kicks his freed leg up over the bar, giving a glimpse of hot pants beneath.
Celedyn looks out over the crowd as he slices his sleeve open, up his shoulder and across his chest. He trades hands, his expression dreamy, reverent as he slices the other to match, scraps of cloth hanging cascading from bare shoulders.
With one last pull, he shreds the tattered robe, letting the ruined cloth drop. He tangles his fingers into his hair and leans back languidly, lifting his legs in counter balance.
Tension visibly runs along the elf's exposed torso as he arches his spine. His legs spread into a full split, thighs resting against the chains on either end of the bar as he rocks forward just enough to hang suspended.
Celedyn runs his hands up his meticulously toned chest, his well defined hips, stroking along the tops of his thighs, savoring the feeling of his own bare skin. He focuses again, taking hold of the bar as his legs snap together, sending him tumbling forward.
Celedyn lands neatly on his feet with a loud click of his heels. He glances back over his shoulder and takes the knife from his teeth, smirking suggestively as he slides the tip of the blade over the fabric of his teeny pair of hot pants.
Celedyn laughs, wagging a finger to scold the crowd as he takes the knife away. This isn't that kind of show! He crosses to the door, slipping his arms though the bars and sliding the stiletto blade into the lock.
Celedyn lets his tongue slip past his lips, fully focused as he picks the lock. The elf doesn't seem to notice as a second figure enters the stage. Jiroki moves smoothly, dressed resplendently in the robes of none other than The Accuser.
Celedyn clicks the last pin into place, opening the door only to find himself face to face with the Venthyr. He freezes a moment, blue eyes slipping to the tithe chalice in her hand. The elf swallows heavily, then tries to regain his composure.
(Music: Love Me Dead by Ludo)
Celedyn offers The Accuser his most charmingly sheepish smile. The high elf tries to conceal his blade, dropping it into the soft pile of his ruined robe and kicking a bit of cloth over it as he leans up towards her, begging a kiss.
The Accuser's expression darkens as he attempts to flirt. Looming like an approaching storm; rushes forward, reaching to grab the man by the throat before throwing him to the floor.
The Accuser follows as he tries to scramble back, setting boot on his chest, pinning him beneath her heel. She leans down, pressing her whole weight into the struggling elf, drinking in his expression before she lifts the tithe chalice.
Celedyn twists beneath her boot, spine arching, hands clawing at the cobblestones as he is racked with something that... doesn’t quite look like pain. A faint red trail of anima is drawn from his chest to pool within the vessel.
Celedyn collapses, panting heavily as she she withdraws to examine the tithe within, unimpressed. The Accuser pours a little of the anima out into her palm and shows it to him: disappointing, hardly worth the trouble of collecting it.
Celedyn pushes himself up to his knees and leans in to drag his tongue through the pool, meticulously cleaning the offered anima. As he finishes, he lifts his eyes; not the the woman's face, but staring at the chalice as he kisses her wrist.
The Accuser catches his wandering eyes and lets her hand drop. She turns away, suddenly disinterested. Celedyn stares at her turned back in disbelief, struck dumb for several moments before he pushes himself up to his feet.
Celedyn steps smoothly behind her, his heels bringing him high enough to nose at the back of the Venthyr’s neck before placing a penitent kiss on her shoulder. She considers, then lets a hand drift back, fingers weaving into the soft waves of his hair.
The Accuser glances back over her shoulder, only to catch him once more with his eyes locked hungrily on the chalice, his greedy hand reaching towards it. Her grip on his hair tightens and with a sharp wrench he is thrown back to the ground.
The Accuser doesn't hesitate and with a loud crack she stomps down, snapping the heel of his shoe. Before Celedyn even has a chance to realize what is being done, her foot crashes down on the other; shattering it as well.
The Accuser turns, giving one last disappointed look before she walks away, letting the chalice drop. It rolls towards Celedyn as the elf tries in vain to stand and follow her. He curses, deflated, at least until he notices the discarded chalice...
Celedyn picks up the chalice, eyes scanning the audience before landing on Leon. He visibly swallows a smirk before giving his most sweet, pleading look. The elf crawls to kneel on the edge of the stage, crooking one finger, his lips in a soft pout.
Celedyn curls his fingers into the fabric of Leon's shirt, clinging to him as he leans hungrily up into the other man's kiss. His grip tightens as the kiss grows deeper and he lifts the tithe chalice, drawing a red glow from the human's chest.
The Accuser storms forward, grabbing the elf's collar as one would scruff a dog before dragging him away. She grabs a length of chain suspended from the rafters and shackles his collar to it.
Leon is a little startled, but not enough not to respond. He sinks into the kiss, barely resisting the temptation to pull Celedyn clean off the stage for himself.
Celedyn tries to stand, his ruined shoes twisting out from under him as he clings to the chain. Finally the elf's bare shoulders flex and he hoists himself up, climbing the heavy chain like an aerial silk.
Celedyn swings his long legs, moving from one pose to the next, each serving to wrap the chain around his torso, across his thigh, binding himself into a knot until he hangs languidly, a single length in his hand the only thing keeping him from falling.
Celedyn releases that final length. His body twists and tumbles as the bonds unravel, until he swings his legs up, wrapping them back around the chain and jerking to a sudden stop - upside down and scant inches above The Accuser's head.
The Accuser smiles and reaches up, dragging the elf into a possessive kiss. Her throat flexes and the crowd can see that faint glow of anima pulled from him once more as he releases the last of the chain, sinking down into her embrace.
Celedyn unbuckles the collar as Jiroki carefully sets him on his feet, one hand remaining on his back to hold him steady. He rests a hand on her shoulder, grinning widely as the pair takes a bow before she scoops him up and carries the waving elf off stage.
@bread-elf @mremaknu
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
opened draka in a catch up pack so obviously I made the full version of sinstone graveyard/draka rogue that I could only dream of when nathria was released... shits complicated to play oh my god. like. I knew rogue was one of the classes that requires higher level gameplay to be good at but damn
#knowing when to hold and when to go in is so difficult#especially playing this in wild now where there are exponentially more options for what you'll be playing against#than there were when this deck was in standard#I want to get good tho cause this deck is so fun#hearthstone#rae rambles
0 notes
Text
🐍💎
0 notes
Text
because I lack any self control I finished this too
Only needed one greater sinstone, 40 keys, and 75 souls. Absolute walk in the park.
#I'm tempted to grind exalted with the Avowed too#but honestly I don't think I can be bothered#to only get 1 mount from it it doesn't seem worth it#I'm only halfway through honoured
0 notes
Text
One day she will be a Countess
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
One Night In Tazavesh
Meanwhile, the Blood Elf and Goblin sisters arrive in Tazavesh...
Trixany: Oh, cool! A Broker city!
Coco: One night in Tazavesh can make a grown woman humble.
Trixany: Huh? Wait, was that a song parody? If so, that's totally my line you're stealing.
Coco: Sis, do you realize how many layers ya just put on that joke?
Trixany: The colors! The sounds! The lack of smells?!
Coco: I guess livin' in Orgrimmar really makes ya nose-blind. Anyway, we need ta find our Broker transport that'll take us the rest of the way to Ardenweald. This way, Haris Corp can't track us. My contact said he'd be around the biggest tavern in the joint... someplace called The Oasis?
Trixany: Wait. I think I know that place!
Coco: Uh sis? How come you--the one playin' ignorant and disinterested since we got hea--suddenly knows all about The Oasis? An exotic Broker establishment nestled in a city, beyond the Shadowlands, that ya never heard of before today? This some kinda crazy Horde B-celebrity stunt or somethin?
Trixany: *takes a deep breath* Basically, I blocked out the Shadowlands expac less for the weird writing and grindy nature of it, and more because I was forced to interact with one of my dead exes.
Trixany: And when Kael'thas Sunstrider started dating one of my other exes, and Sharpen just casually told me about that, like it wasn't emotional PvP to go behind my back with Kael, and then Kael even stole my Lady Gaga Sinstone parody song, I like blacked out with rage and later woke up in Tazavesh.
Trixany: Or maybe I did arm myself beforehand and went through a portal to commit pre-meditated double-regicide against my already dead prince. Ya know? Cause Sunwell Plateau and all?
Trixany: But then suddenly I was like, on the set of my stolen music video that was being shot at The Oasis. And I was all like, 'Hey this place is cute,' cause it was and it even had fuschia curtains, with decor that was totally art nouveau and all that. Which I've never seen done in Warcraft, like ever. It was more a Hearthstone vibe, which really impressed me actually?
Trixany: But even when I attacked Kael, he just secretly kept the cameras rolling and stole the fight footage, and it got into MY stolen music video. And he's still getting all the royalties even though I'm alive and that sumbitch is officially dead!!
Coco: *has to sit down*
Trixany: *seethes*
Coco: Ya know, we coulda just linked the actual One Night In Bangkok music video for this post instead of your personal Shadowlands story, and it woulda been far less traumatizin'.
Trixany: Hey, that's a cool song. Respect your elders.
Coco: It was in the 80s! Ya makin' me so mad, I gotta break the fourth wall ova hea!!!
#desperate-alts-lives#this really happened to her#just click the desperate-alts-lives tag lol#it's in there
0 notes
Text
“I look upon you and dare to feel.. hope.”
“We face the unending, undefeatable, undefiable darkness... together.”
“You and me against the ending of reality.”
Renathal shut up and marry me already
#amani chattering#Renathal gives me ff14 npc vibes where he's lowkey enamoured with your character and I am HERE for it we need more of that in WoW#I want to feel like I'm in an otome game with NPC's actually connecting with your character#what if we kiss :blushing: in front of the sinfall sinstone and Draven was there... haha kidding! unless....?
161 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
