Illidari

I’m hyped for nerd things.
This is from World of Warcraft.


The green embers hissed as they flickered out of existence across her purple skin. The fel energy coursing through her body granted her security from the fires lashing about her, dripping from her spread wings like rain. Her bandaged chest strained as she lifted her arms, heavy glaives weighing her down and fresh scratches and sores wore at her weak flesh.

With eyeless sight she viewed the battlefield, the entire world bathed in green static snarling up as demons and Illidari warring on the barren steppe-lands. Turning her gaze to the skies she saw the swirling mist of demons falling upon them, their leathery wings spread and their talons bared.

Mortal flesh would not hold her back, the smouldering ruins of the Infernal snuffed out as she took flight. Her glaives slashing through meat and sinew of a beast too close to ground. Its twisted brethren fell to her blades in swift order, the air turned to claret around her.

A deep rumbling below drew her attention just long enough for the last of the pack to strike her down, their bodies twisting together in the descent – its talons digging into her shoulders as it forced her down. Her wings curled around them, her body braced but her feet pried her loose and she found the top of the pile. Her feet drove the demon’s skull into the ground, shattering it and the rock. She stumbled forward, her legs shaken and near snapped. She could feel the demon’s energy in the air, it turned the world… greener.
The deep rumbling struck again, this time she turned to look as a leviathan rose up on four legs. Its enormous bulk shaking the world with every step. It’s arms were blades, its tusks were as long the Illidari skewered upon them and it scythed down another with ease. She could feel her wings withering as the fel inside her faded away to lick her wounds. It put a spring in her step as she leapt up and sprinted towards the carnage of a Pit Lord finally in this battle.

It saw her, but she was not along, her brothers and sisters swarmed in on all sides, their blades slick with blood or burning with green fire. The great blades struck out, one launched at her, but she rolled to the side and darted up the blade. A brother was not so lucky, crushed beneath demonic steel. Its skin beneath her boots, it pulsed with energy – corrupt and alluring, it brought something dark out of her. Her horns surging forth from her skull, her wings budding again upon her back, spines and claws erupting from her skin. It was the hunger, the rumbling was her heart as she imagined taking down larger prey.

She leapt from the Pitlord’s hand and sprung towards its face. A bladed arm slashed for her and she slipped around it effortlessly. Her blades sank deep into its throat but it did not flinch, it made to bite at her and found her hand – her glaive still attached. Intense, blinding pain surged through her, the boiling gout of fel blood mixed with her own – her blades cutting through mouth and skull. The demon wavered, its legs giving out and she fell – one less hand and one less glaive.

Her one remaining blade would carve through the demons just as well but her body started to fade as her blood flowed from open wounds. How many had died today and she had only lost a hand, how many more would die before she would lose more? She felt the slain demon’s fel like a vapour cloying her mortal form, and she drank deep – her body sparking green flame, her hand reformed as flesh and bone. How many more demons would it take before they finished her? If she had her way, an entire Legion.

Choices

Just a small vignette I wrote.


The chandeliers cast light across the grand ball room of the palace. The music of violins and harps fill the air, alongside the smells of roast meat and honey. Foreign guests and local dignitaries greet her; the Queen, the host and life of the party. Everywhere the sounds of conversation, laughter and the raucousness of the party, mingling with the pulsing rhythms of life and debauchery. Her blue eyes gaze across the assembly, the many shades and statures of characters in her ball room. Who would she talk to tonight?

There were so many of interest to her, the strange and mysterious that beckon to her to come and learn more about them. Several stand out even amongst that group.

The nearest is a woman with ashen skin and dark eyes, who glowers at her company but flashes the Queen a coy and inviting smile. She wears scant clothing, a black bikini top binds in her heavy breasts that strain the delicate fabric. Pointed ears turn to listen in on conversations she is not even a part of, while she tolerates her company with hands on her wide hips. A silvery-black sarong hugs her waist, trailing down to her knees, mildly see-through and revealing the gold ink tattoos swirling over her luscious form.

Or perhaps the Queen should speak with the man in the corner holding a glass of claret and watching the room with strange curiosity. An enchanting man from the dark southern jungles by his attire and pale white skin. Pointed shoes and silken pants, a simple black vest over his hard chest. He speaks softly but with power, and simply allows his hands to express himself to his lone companion. Long, slender fingers which seem to sizzle with ethereal energies.

Though the strangest of the guests drew the Queen’s attention. A woman among a group of other women, her mocha body is covered in trinkets and bright cloth, pieces of wood and animal that dangles from a loose belt strung around her hips. All kinds of fetishes and artifacts of her trade – no doubt that of a fetish priestess. Each item on her belt is a story to share, something to draw in the crowd around her as she explains one of her toys.

Blog.

I’m going to take this and maybe next week while I’m busy with other things, to reexamine what I want to do with this blog – maybe consider some kind of ongoing stories and maybe change up the schedule I’ve been using.
Cheers.

Blog: Returning

I won’t be off sick this week. Hooray!

I might need a format restructuring, this week will be shorter than usual (~55 words each) and I might do that for a few weeks. I’m starting to feel like I’m repeating myself because I want to keep exploring certain themes. In the future I might make those into just on-going series of some kind.

Blog: Continued Hiatus.

I knew I was being optimistic when I said one week last week, but I wanted to be optimistic. Due to continued issues with health and work and life in general, I won’t be posting up anything this week.

I don’t want to say definitely next week, because if I do – I might get stranded in the desert. Let’s not tempt fate. Sorry for the lack of content.