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Post by Chrystal Kaleigh on Apr 10, 2008 11:25:54 GMT -5
-0- Prologue The following pages are those scribed from the personal project journal of Mavalos - The Black Butcher of Theramore, as transcribed and read by Ilarra Stormrunner. This is how his bride came to be; this is the creation of Chrystal Kaleigh, The Blinding Fury.
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Post by Chrystal Kaleigh on Apr 10, 2008 12:12:34 GMT -5
-1- The Human Girl -The world is in chaos. The Northlands have been destroyed, and Dalaran has withdrawn itself from our world and the threat of the scourge. Arugal has failed and an alien breed of elves have been discovered here in the west. So long have I watched since the day of my death to that harlot - my lover - my Lizara Kaleigh. Little she knew of my paranoid ways; little she knew that I expected such betrayal. For even in death, I now live again. But I am broken, destroyed, and will never again be the whole man I once was. I am hideous. I will never know love like I knew of my Lizara. No woman would ever look upon me with even eyes as they all once did, and not flinch, or flee in fear. No, for they are too shallow to see the compassion in my heart, the love in my eyes... The want to be loved unconditionally. Done with fickle humans am I. There is no need to rely on their whims and shallow-minded dalliances. I am The Black Butcher - and my power is so much more than bolts of shadow and columns of flame. I am a creator, a sculptor of flesh; a breather of life... I am an artist. And I will create one who will love me as I so desire. She will have beauty without compare! She will bare no prejudice of those physically inferior! She will be strong like my beloved Lizara, a mistress at arms. My lover, my champion, my queen, my bride. -I have left the estate and returned to Azeroth, living beneath the ground outside of a town named Theramore. Ran by the archmagess Jaina Proudmoore, I must be careful to conceal my work until the time is right. My creatures are training, my army is growing. So many failed attempts to create a perfect being, they will serve me well as an army when she is finally complete. And I have found her. I have found my bride. Oh sweet Lizara, she is your blood. Twenty generations evolved, the cycle has come back to you. Near identical to your appearance, save her malnourished form, and missing eyes, to which I eventually discovered were taken by early attempts to spread the scourge. She has no family who loves her, abandoned in her blindness and taken in out of pity. She now attempts to learn magicks in the city - which she is failing at with her inability to see, and the lack of esteem for her failed life. I shall rescue you, my queen. And one day soon, it will be you who laughs upon those who shun you now. -I possessed a local man, Khaevar Lyons, a very handsome breed of man. It made little matter as she could not see him, but his voice was well enough. I approached the young woman Kaleigh - Chrystal is her name. Barely into her fifteenth year and frightened of the world around her, she was easy to seduce - with promises of love and care. Promises I shall hold true of you, my Queen. Though it seems we ran into a minor problem. The union with the girl left her impregnated; a sure delay in our timeline, as I shall not see an end to a child of my creation. A proud father I shall one day be. This time shall be taken well, however, as I may prepare my enhancements to my future bride. Her flaws shall be corrected in this time. It is time now. I will find the most fitting species to infuse into my lover, and her perfection shall redefine the word.
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Post by Sunshine on Apr 12, 2008 1:31:48 GMT -5
The quill pen scratched black ink against the surface of Priestess Stormrunner’s notepad.
I’ve always been fascinated by the sort of mind which compulsively keeps a record of its own misdeeds. In some, it seems as though irresistible; “People must know.” That’s the point of it there, I think— people like the self-proclaimed “Black Butcher,” whom I shall refer to hereon, I think, as BB, people like BB don’t write journals for the same reasons normal, sane people do. Not to remind themselves of things, keep notes, or organize their thoughts; not even for the simple joy of writing. People like BB write invariably out of ego. It’s there on the very first page: “I am an artist.” So possessed by his own sense of self-importance, so sure that in the end he will prevail— ha. “I’ll show them! I’ll show them all! Oh, they shall RUE the day!” Etcetera. How many times have we read such words in books, in plays, heard them in stories— heard in person? Goddess knows, BB’s personality type is not uncommon anymore. Stormwind’s Slaughtered Lamb tavern is practically lousy with it. The man did not write for himself, but for posterity— for those who would wonder how the great, powerful, benevolent, blah blah blah, King Mavalos the Butcher rose to power. Arrogant tosser.
I’ve always wondered about that name, “Mavalos.” It’s far too grandiose; I suspect perhaps BB chose it for himself. I expect it means something dramatic in some long-dead ancient tongue or other. Perhaps he felt his previous name was too common for a king. I’ve not been able to verify this, or, indeed, find much of anything out at all about his life before Chrystal and this godsforsaken journal, but I intend to. Perhaps there will be further clues within the text, such as his references to “his” Lizara and her betrayal.
Goddess, poor Chrystal. My sister Ilanna had and read this journal before me, and has told me there were days she spent sitting awake crying in bed, after reading certain passages. Apparently, BB describes in vivid detail the experiments he performed. From what I’ve encountered skimming through the text, this would seem to be accurate. You can almost hear Chrystal’s screams.
What’s worse, it would appear from his introduction that he chose Chrystal intentionally. He acts surprised: “Oh sweet Lizara, she is your blood!” but I’m not buying it. Chance is a whore, this we know, but a man like BB would not have found such chance by accident. I suspect he went looking for Chrystal.
Lizara Kaleigh. Pretty name. She looked like Chrystal too, according to BB— lucky Lizara. Again, I’ve been unable to discover any information about her. Some ancestor of Chrystal’s, obviously, but how far back? Not her mother, though Avira Kaleigh was a treacherous bitch, by all accounts. Her grandmother, perhaps? Great grandmother? How old was BB? That line of his, “Twenty generations evolved,” that suggests perhaps he was very old indeed— that Lizara may have lived a very long time ago, which would explain why I can‘t find anything on her. BB certainly addresses her as though she were long dead. How many of the years in those twenty generations did BB spend as a corpse, I wonder? What brought him back? Well done on Lizara for killing him, anyway, even if it didn’t stick. It never does, with his type…
From everything I’ve heard about BB, and reading his own words, I can’t help but be reminded of another evil bastard I knew myself. Eren Stormrunner never had BB’s delusions of godhood, nor did he ever seek armies and dominion, but like BB he did enjoy experiments. He took compulsive notes, he wrote research journals; he lived, as BB did, much longer than he ought to have.
Eren used warlock magic and soul energy to keep himself alive, whereas I suspect BB of having used necromancy. Even so, I imagine they would have liked each other.
The mystery of Lizara’s identity is tantalizing to me, as are the circumstances surrounding her betrayal— murder?— of BB. “Betrayal” is an interesting word, one which villains often use of their friends when they themselves fall from grace, just as corrupt governments label citizens who speak out against the corruption as being unpatriotic. Could it be that Lizara saw what BB was becoming, and dumped him— terminally?
I want to ask Chrystal about her, but I won’t. If she knows the name Lizara, it’s very likely that she heard it from BB’s lips; I’ll not be the one to remind her of her time with him. Perhaps I’ll ask Chrystal’s father, or call up Avira Kaleigh’s ghost. It interests me that Lizara’s surname was Kaleigh— given human patriarchal naming inheritance, it suggests that Chrystal is not a direct descendant of the girl. That, or Lizara was already married when she and BB were together— or that she got the name by marrying…. no. Ew.
No, I don’t think I’d prefer to contemplate the third possibility.
It is encouraging to know that BB is not the biological father of Chrystal’s son. From what records they kept in Theramore, it would seem that Khaevar Lyons was a fairly innocent man, a simple painter and sculptor of decent skill and only moderate success. His looks, apparently, were the only really remarkable thing about him. Jacob Kaleigh is safe from inheriting BB’s legacy, unless possession can taint a man’s seed. I should probably do some research on that.
Interesting thing— the records I found do not give Khaevar Lyons' date of death. They do, however, give the man’s address.
BB’s journal itself is an unpleasant thing to handle. Beyond a tendency to have far more pages than would fit in its bindings, which is common in books written by spellcasters, I do not believe it is magical in nature; nevertheless, I do not like to touch it. Powerful wielders of magic can leave echoes of themselves, smears of magic and personality with lives of their own. The most dramatic example, of course, walking and talking and playing chess, is Magna Medivh; Gul’dan and the broken Throne of the Elements is another. Even a man like BB, though not responsible for the destruction of worlds, leaves an unpleasant oily sheen on those things that are associated with him. Handling this book of his is like submersing myself in a cesspool.
I think, when I’ve finished with transcribing and reading it, I shall have the journal burned. This would be an intelligent move in any case, but the fact that the godsdamned thing gives me the willies is a powerful additional motivator.
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Post by Chrystal Kaleigh on Apr 13, 2008 17:24:50 GMT -5
-2- The Nymph -So damaged is my bride. Like a hero, I swept her from this pathetic existence she had been given, oh worthy goddess of mine. My, how I have grown to love her - so charming is she. Her broken smile, her passionate words. How could such a being be left to die at the hands of a careless mother. Before this is done, my dearest Chrystal, your memory shall be gone. These past pains will never haunt you again. All you will know of life is wonderful, and happy. And when we have forged our kingdom together, your smile will be known and envied across the world. Her lifestyle has taken it's toll upon her, however. It must be fixed. Like my dearest Lizara before, she could be perfect. She may be perfect were it not for the rigors of her short life. But all is well, for the trial and error of my experiments is soon to come to it's peak. Chrystal, The Bride of the Black Butcher will be the fruit of my labors, and she will belong only to me. -Our child was born this morning. I've not felt such joy in almost two-hundred years. Chrystal asked that we may call him Jacob. I do like this name, and I agreed to let it be so. It infuriates me that she cannot see him. A mother deserves the joy of seeing what she has labored so long to create. You will see him soon, my dear Queen - oh yes, very soon. It is time now, however, to begin the experiments. Soon she will be healed from the process of birth, and her body will be healthy enough to undergo her first surgeries. So perfect, the specimens I have began to obtain. Outdone myself even. She shall be -beyond- perfection. -Beauty reflects from a first impression. The outward appearance is the first in which one sees in basing judgment. My Chrystal, we shall begin this process by obtaining your outward beauty. I am unsure if every your looks may match the inward beauty that already exists within you - but I will do all in which my dark powers will allow to make weak-minded men collapse at your feet. I cannot have an unattractive bride. I have no desire to lay with a body that does not excite me. Thus I have taken the steps to ensure that your form is built perfect to my eyes, and resilient enough to accept all the time I wish to spend with it. All the things that made my Lizara so perfect, you shall do with twice the perfection. -For some time now, I have kept watch over the most beautiful creature. I have watched constantly as she spends her days within the wood, a being of nature, a thing of beauty. Unwanting of the awareness of our world, she flees from woodland to woodland as the encroaching evils of civilization come close to her temporary homes. Her movements are graceful, her skin is flawless - there is no curve out of place, no area too soft, or too hard. No human could ever dream to look as flawless as this creature of nature; this nymph. I've watched long enough to know her patterns, the direction in which she tends to flee when man comes too close to her new home. I'm sorry, my beauty. I have a purpose for you now. I do hope your meeting with General Rozka is a pleasant one. - Insert: General Rozka -
A Broken shapeshifter, discovered in the vicinity of the Swamp of Sorrows. Battered and destroyed by battles surrounding the Dark Portal, he was rescued by minions of Mavalos. Unable to restore his body by natural means. Mavalos made a pact to give Rozka a stronger, more powerful form in exchange for his service. The sacrifice of his favored Doomguard came easily as this new prospect emerged in the Butcher's mind. It was a success as well, combining the two. And the result was the powerful body of the vicious doomguard, topped with the head and 'squiddie' effects of a broken one. His powers retained, Rozka become a vicious beast, with the speed and strength of the sacrificed demon, and the ability to shift into his surroundings at will. Mavalos' first true success was indeed one of his greatest. ~ -Rozka returned to me today, a month past the start of his journey north. His news was pleasing, and his cargo even more pleasing. Taking a small group of my failed creations, he sent them after the creature, forcing her to flee amongst the path I suspected. It was the same path General Rozka waited upon for her, blended into a briar bush and waiting patiently. I am pleased to see that he brought my beauty to me unharmed. She is full of life and struggle, and I shall enjoy keeping her within my harem these next few days, and long after her usefulness in my experiments have passed. I shall return to my writings when my experiments have finished. -The first of my experiments with Chrystal was today. It was an amazing success, I am proud to say. It was not without it's casualties though. It appears as if our nymph was indeed a creature of magick and nature, as when I tore the very essence from her body, she withered into a plant-like husk. Sad, I must say, but the sacrifice is worth it, my dear Chrystal. What importance is her soul compared to your perfection? It is not important. Chrystal was frightened as I put her to sleep, the poor thing. So confused, and unsure of what I was doing. I merely told her she was sick, and I had to fix her. i shall have to do something about this cowardice that lives within her - it is unfitting of a queen. The strangest thing happened when the essence of our nymph was infused into Chrystal. It seemed as if nothing had happened at first. I was most upset. Lost in my anger, and ready to sulk off into my studies to try again, she suddenly came to life! Drawing in her breath in a deep gasp, she literally bloomed, right before my eyes. Curved swelled, her skin brightened. Her hair straightened and came to life with a shine, and the crooked teeth of her mouth lined themselves into place. My heart sunk into my chest as I gazed upon her. Never in nearly three-hundred years have I seen such beauty. My treacherous Lizara - she is what you were now, and more.
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Post by Sunshine on Apr 17, 2008 15:43:45 GMT -5
How much did you erase, BB? How many times? Chrystal’s memories of your… worship of her , of her life before then, have never been very clear. Her life only truly begins for her after the end of her enslavement to you, which is why, of course, reading your gross little book is even necessary. If she could easily remember all these details herself, I would not need to find them for her— I would burn them. Still, I think it’s better for her. I envy her, in fact. Would that all who suffered such pain could forget it so easily.
—Envy her to a point. I’ve been in her head myself, BB. I’ve seen what you did to her mind, you sick fuck. Still, even knowing what you'd done, having already done my best to heal it, even already knowing, to see your admission of it in writing is enraging.
If she hadn’t already seen you dead, I would do it myself.
She really does have a beautiful smile, though. Still got that broken quality, too, though not literally now.
Those who call themselves good like to think that the ones they call evil are incapable of love. Personally, I can’t think of any mortal creature I’d call evil more readily than BB— not even Eren! At least I could understand him— but frankly, the love myth is not true. A great general once said: “The best way to defeat an enemy is to know him so well you grow to love him.” If a warrior can learn to love his enemy, why cannot a creature of evil love? Murlocs teach their children how to swim, how to swarm, how to eat living flesh— is this not love, to teach your children all you know? I think it is. BB certainly thought he was in love. What differs, where the line draws, is in what love motivates toward.
What love is is this: The focusing of one’s life upon a single point or purpose. A truly devout priest of the Light falls in love with his faith; it becomes the center of his world, the thing he thinks about, dreams about, breathes. This is why he is able to give up things like sex, good food, and comfort, the poor bugger— joys of flesh become nothing compared to the soul. In the same way, parents who love their children focus their lives around those children; parents of humble class work hard all their lives to teach, protect and nurture their children, making the best life for them that they can— often at expense to themselves; those of wealth often spoil their children rotten, for what better use of money than to try purchase happiness? Hence why old nobility are often rotten bastards. And then there’s romance—
When love mixes with lust, we lose our minds. We do everything we can to impress and benefit our love. For adventurers and treasure seekers, this often means acts of daring, theft of gold and jewels and shinies. For concubines, it becomes a fierce carnality. For cooks? Well, there’s someone will have to be eating all that chocolate. An artist in love with Chrystal would surely paint her, sculpt her form— in fact I know my sister keeps a sketch book filled with Chrystal's face. And a healer in love with Chrystal would most certainly do her very best to cure her of her ailments…
And BB? BB was a scientist, a necromancer, a sculptor himself, of sorts. He thought himself an artist, but he did not sculpt with clay or stone. He worked his art with flesh, and so, motivated by love, he worked it on Chrystal. Small wonder he abused her body so; he was in love, and it caused him to do what he was good at.
Yet, here’s the funny thing— I do not think he was in love with Chrystal, but with the idea of her. When a lover falls genuinely in love, they see not flaw but flavor; that bald head, those rough hands, that shrill laugh— they’re endearments. BB didn’t see Chrystal that way. He had a vision in his head of what he wanted , and like every mad scientist before him, worked to create it. Poor Chrystal was merely a convenient base to start with.
I’m not even bloody going to comment on BB calling himself a hero.
Like the first bit, this section on the nymph raises rather more questions than it answers. I can’t help but wonder where Chrystal got the name Jacob, for a start, though it’s lovely. More importantly, what did BB do with Jacob after he was born? How much influence he might have had on him is worrying to me. Also: What ever happened to this General Rozka person? Another name I’ve never heard before; another thing to worry over. I’m told the final assault on BB’s lair destroyed the whole of it and every one of his servants, but I cannot help but wonder how easy it would have been for a shapeshifter to escape notice.
The nymph, at least, gives us some answers. It explains everything from the unfair symmetry of Chrystal’s figure to the curve of that ass of hers. It also explains why she practically drips magic off her.
I feel bad for the nymph. One cannot help but wonder if she died, not because of what BB did to her, but as an escape from him.
Oh, and I found out where Avira Kaleigh is buried.
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Post by Chrystal Kaleigh on Apr 19, 2008 21:32:19 GMT -5
-3- The High Elf - Anya Sunchaser My Queen is so beautiful now. She has bloomed in full over these past weeks - her body has become more flawless than my expectations had hoped for. She blossomed and bloomed like the flowers of the spring, and Shadow's willing, will never wither in my service. She is near perfect enough to keep as she is now, but that would merely be a visual trophy. She is not perfected thoroughly yet, for my queen shall head my armies, and all but I shall tremble beneath her gaze. I was stopped in my tracks this morning. Flustered and took completely off my guard. My black heart has not beat for centuries, but it jumped into full speed as Chrystal told me... She told me that she loved me. Sweetest Lizara, you once told me these words too. Is she fooling me? Has her family quietly kept note of me through the generations, and now use this broken child to infiltrate and destroy me? No, no, that cannot be. She simply spoke such to me on the morn, because she is too blind to see the hideousness Lizara forced me to become. The quality it shows, though - to be able to judge without sight. I do believe I love you too, my dear Kaleigh. And in return for your love, I shall bestow upon you more gifts of perfection. -It is time for my Queen to begin her training as a Knight. To lead my armies, she shall be accomplished in her own right. The best teacher is experience, but I dare not even put her in a training circle at this point in time. She is perhaps the clumsiest being I have ever set my sights on in all my years. Combine this with her unrealistic cowardice of all things threatening, and she would die of fright on an actual battlefield. Personal note for my near future - string Avira Kaleigh up by hooks in her throat, and allow my abominations to feast on her whorish flesh. Treat my Queen as you did, Light-forsaken goatwhore. We must first begin with this problem of her clumsiness. To have my prized one trip and impale herself in her first lesson would not be ideal. She must become nimble, and quick, lithe like a panther, and as quiet as one too. I do believe I have found my subject as well. Pity that such a lengthy life will end so pointlessly, but no wall shall stand between my project and I. The cost of perfection is high. You did wrong me once, long ago though. You were a part of my murder, Anya Sunchaser, Quel'dorei daughter to Raelin Sunchaser. Distracted me well with your blinding speed as Lizara ran me through. The sweetest of vengeance this shall be for me. I'm sure you will understand me though. A perfectionist yourself, you spent your days in practice, claiming to forsake the magicks that your race excelled at so highly, in order to be the best of assassins. We both know the truth, however. You embraced the shadows in order to become more quiet, quicker, deadlier. I would know, I assisted you. I've watched for so long, and even threw the occasional obstacle in your way, hoping to see you fail... But you may possibly be the fastest being on the face of Azeroth as it stands right now. You've became one with the shadows, from the loss of glow in your eeys, to the darkening of your skin - I saw that stunt of yours recently, disarming those five men before they could recognize you were moving. General Rozka will have his hands full with you, I'm sure. -Three weeks to the day that I sent General Rozka out to retrieve Anya Sunchaser for me, and yet no word. I grow impatient. -Six weeks now, and finally, he returns. Later than I had hoped for, but he did succeed. Coming to me this morning, looking as if he had ran naked through a net of razors, he exclaimed to me, "Too bad she don't fuck like she fights." And tossed the canvas sack at my feet, holding the unconscious elf secure. My General Rozka, how strong you are. I am truly proud. -My evening with Anya Sunchaser was the best I've had in decades. The look upon her face when she realized I lived was priceless and forever in my memory. Oddly though, I could not bring myself to murder her and extract my rightful revenge. Indeed, I do believe that when I have taken from her what I need, I shall let her live - a broken shell of what she once was, knowing that I, The Black Butcher did not forget that she spit on me upon my deathbed, and that I had the last laugh. Her breakdown did not go as easily as planned. It's amazing how strong the shadows were bound to her. I spent two days in bed after the procedure of ripping all the shadows from her essence, it tired me so greatly. Amazing discovery to learn as well that she was only of half-elven blood. Quite the beauty at that, with the sweeping red hair, and the soft and slender graces only a halfbreed would possess. I had General Rozka dump her off in Silvermoon city, a nice new set of memories in her mind, and the name of Kitei. Enjoy my mercy, traitorous whore. -Imbuing the essence of the Sunchaser went much more smoothly than the extraction did. Chrystal's body was very accepting to the new features. Not being one with the shadows herself, she will never be as fast as The Sunchaser, but this will definitely put her on the level of some of the best. I noticed that her skin took a bit of a tint to it as well. I feared something like this would happen, but in my moments of luck, it seems to have only added to her attractiveness, removing the paleness of her flesh that the fair nymph had left behind. She told me herself that she felt lighter on her feet for some reason. Of course, I would never tell her what was done, but she seems more confident in herself. Learning the compound in her blindness, she now breezes around as if she were able to see like any being could. I do believe I shall have her taught to dance. With a body so perfect, it would be a crime to never see it move so fluidly outside the bedroom. Once more, I have succeeded upon my path to creating perfection.
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Post by Sunshine on May 18, 2008 13:50:26 GMT -5
She’s screaming, pleading, chained in place.
He’s hideous, bandaged, rotting. His smile is the cold of open graves.
Ilarra paused, ran her eyes over a different set of notes, then resumed writing.
Kitei Alarra— I love the last name— Kitei Alarra’s memories are disturbing things. I found her in Silvermoon, where she lives with another female blood elf. They work together as— unsuprisingly— assassins. I borrowed an Orb of Sin’dorei from a friend, and spent the night with them…
Another pause; a distant smile. A faint blush in pale cheeks.
Once they both were asleep, I looked into Kitei's head and discovered Anya Sunchaser. I hadn’t expected her to be there; I’d expected to find fragments, faint impressions. That’s what I would have left in erasing the poor girl’s memories (if I’d done it unskillfully and sloppily). But BB isn’t me, and when forming my expectations I should have better kept in mind BB’s primary motivation, which was, of course: arrogance. The man thought himself invincible, immortal, a walking god. He’d already died once and come back, so what harm in leaving existent a potential threat to his health, if the payoff would be that threat's humiliation? How embarrassing, to have been the fastest being alive and not even know it…
Idiot man. I’m grateful, however; Anya Sunchaser answered quite a few of my questions.
-- She‘s screaming, pleading, chained in place.
He‘s hideous, bandaged, rotting. His smile is the cold of open graves, and when he laughs it‘s the laugh of a corpse.
…And then he’s gone. Where he stood there’s just a shadow— not his.
She blinks. “…Hello?”
“Hello, Anya. Light, I’m surprised you’re alive, girl.”
“Who are you?” She gives futile struggles against the chains that hold her bound to Mavalos’s bed. ‘I’m surprised you’re alive’ is never a good thing to hear.
“Just a shadow, darlin. I’m friendly, though. I wondered if you’d answer a few questions for me.”
“Please, set me free. He… he’s hurting me…” She trembles, tears falling from blue eyes, and pulls weakly at her chains again. Suddenly they too are gone. She looks around and finds herself beneath a wide grey sky, on a peaceful sandy beach. The shadow, standing next to her, hugs an arm around her shoulders.
“Better?"
“Where am I..?”
“Place called Darkshore, long and far away. You wouln’t have known about it yet... So how ‘bout those questions now, hm?” --
About a century and a half ago, it starts out like a love story. A young mage in Stormgarde’s military named Mav Loklin had a crush on a young seamstress named Lizara– whose last name was Kaleigh, who never married despite having several different lovers after Mav’s (first) death, one of whom gave her a son and a line of descendants eventually culminating in a girl named Chrystal– and Lizara had a crush on him. They were happy for awhile, but as tends to happen in these cases things soured. Mav had a magician’s greatest curse, which is to possess both talent and ambition. He pursued both, and of course we know what happened after that. He began studying necromancy, shadow magic, and the summoning of demons, and was promptly kicked out of the military, then Stromgarde itself. Appropriate to his personality type, his reaction was to take residence in a hut in the highlands of Arathor and begin conducting mad science (as mad scientists do tend to). Happily for history, Lizara wasn’t one to take this lying down, and called on her good friend Anya Sunchaser to help her kill him.
There’s a memory, stands out so vivid from the rest. Cobbled undead horrors, Magic’s bastards, move stop-motion with weapons in hand. A shadow flits among them, runs them through, and makes them fall, most minus heads and limbs. Pause; there's Anya, a blur too fast to see. Resume. The man himself, still young and strong, dressed all in stylish villains' black, begins to raise a hand…then the knife slips in, the black gets blacker, and Mav Loklin dies his first death. From behind, letting go of the knife, Lizara catches him as he falls. She cries.
They burned him, with his lab, his home, and his corpses, all to ash.
The story could have had a nice ending there. Lizara went back to Stromgarde, had her lovers, several daughters, and a son. She became a fairly renowned designer and manufacturer of fine clothing, raised her children, and died at the age of one hundred and three. She was buried beneath a tall oak tree in the Highlands.
Note: A few of her styles seem still to be in fashion, in particular a sort of high-necked sweater which is still called a "Liz.". She also designed several types of lingerie, one of which has some representatives in my own dresser. Funny.
Anya remained friends with Lizara until her death, which hit Anya hard; it always does, with humans. Afterwards, Anya devoted herself to her craft. I don’t think I agree with BB that she was the fastest to ever live. Peering into her memories, watching how she moved, I’ve seen others just as quick— my sister, the ap Danwyriths, a few others (most of them Wildfire Riders), they all could have given her a run for her money. But it is, in fact, a very few others. She was very, very good. She was also very alone, I think on purpose. She had no friends, no family she cared for, and no truly sincere lovers. She kept herself secluded, so I’ve decided to help her stay that way. It’s not my place to change back what BB stole. I thought briefly of destroying her memories for good, but that’s not my place either; she may want them someday. So I’ve left them dug deep, and I’ve left her as Kitei. As Kitei she has a lover, a future, and a measure of peace; I think she’s better off that way. As Anya, all she has is the pain of what was done to her.
Moving on.
The thought of Chrystal saying “I love you” to BB is a hard one. What lies and what promises did he whisper to her? And what’s truly disgusting is his reaction: not reciprocation— that only comes later, and very calculatedly. No, his first response is paranoia and suspicion. Belatedly, he claims that, no, she must simply be able to see his true nature, but that’s not the case. Chrystal saw exactly what she was supposed to. A master; a god for her to worship. Correctly he says that she only feels love for him because she can’t see him— she can’t see what a bastard he is.
The man was obsessed with the physical form. He certainly was a shallow one. He only wanted to fuck girls who were perfect enough, and he thought if they could see what he looked like then they wouldn’t really love him…
Poor Chrystal. One can’t really blame her for those words of hers. Chances are she’d never had anyone else to say them to. I find myself agreeing with BB’s sentiments toward Avira. Speaking of which, I really should be heading up to Tyr’s Hand soon.
I wonder if Chrystal ever did learn how to dance.
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Post by Chrystal Kaleigh on May 21, 2008 12:53:59 GMT -5
-4- The Wrath of the Annihilan Pit Lord Oh, my dearest queen, how you continue to evolve and grow by the day; no challenge before you is ever too tough. With my assistance, you are more and more becoming the paragon of what every living being should strive to become. Woman shall envy you, men shall desire you to the point of tears when passed up, and warlords alike shall cower before your might... Your might... She is not yet strong enough. The improvement in the past weeks has been simply amazing, however. No longer does she fumble at simple tasks. Her footwork is amazing, her movements are fluid and graceful. She moves like a stalking panther, and is as quick as a serpent's strike. Anya Stormchaser, you have finally served your purpose in life - to sacrifice everything to me. But again, as I say, she is not strong enough. Not so much in strength of limb - she still needs work there, but her strength falters so much more inother aspects. She is still too cowardly. That young, broken girl I took from the street is very much still broken. The Queen of Azeroth shall not be a coward, nor shall she rule as a puppet to braver beings who are not myself. She shall soon harness the fiercest fighting spirit ever seen within the vessel of a human body. I have been researching just the being to instill this bravery into my lover. The bravery to charge headlong into an entire army, teeth bared, weapons drawn, and the knowledge that she shall be victorious. My Queen; you shall soon harness the ferocity of the Annihilan Pit Lord. -An excerpt from studies of the Pit Lords, I shall copy here in my journal for ease of memory. (Credit: wowwiki!) The pit lords are usually nothing more than butchers: brutal killers, occasional torturers, and hunters that prefer intelligent prey. They are engines of hate and flame, bred for only one purpose: to destroy everything in their path. When reproached by mortal paladins or hacked at by heroes defending their towns, the pit lords smile ever more widely. Gore, screams, and suffering prove to them their victory, and the horror and anger of those mortals capable of opposing them serve as the applause.-I have spent a long time following the paths of these amazing beings, but never before have I attempted to confront one. They are not ones for conversation with the mortal races. Now, however, I require their blood... My minions, you shall not fail me in this tasks. Wars are forever raging in which these beasts are used, and I suspect soon, I shall have my own, perfected pit lord in the form of my Queen. -Incompetents! Bastard-minded, witless, thoughtless minions! How difficult can it be to collect the fresh-spilled blood of a beast that prides itself upon it's wounds as it dismembers the opponents before it?! Fifty of what I had hoped to be my most competent... Some would wound the fiend, and others would collect and flee. It wasn't a hard plan, mindless nitwits. I shall not be swayed in my plans! I will not accept this failure! My Queen will not be denied the bravery her heart so desires! No, she will not be... It appears that once more, I shall rely on the ability of my tireless General Rozka. I do apologize, old friend, but if your death comes of this task, know it was for the most worthy of causes. -Three weeks since the departure of General Rozka, and no word. His travel to the fiend in question was to merely take two days. Anxiety swells within my heart, as my scrying is not powerful enough to gaze upon such depths of the Twisting Nether, yet. I do hope that he has not failed me - I am too weak away from my supports to battle such a beast, and the loss of General Rozka would be most devastating to my progress. Shadows, my hands are shaking too bad to write today, I think I shall oversee Chrystal's harem training for the day. -Success! It has only been hours since my last entry, but just as I was observing Chrystal's training, a battered General Rozka came ambling in with the blood I had sent him after. I was most pleased with his return, and as it turns out, General Rozka himself is much more intelligent then I ever have gave credit for. As he explained to me, he approached an adventuring company, in disguise, and convinced them of a feeble, dying Pit Lord who would go down with ease, and etch their names in fame... As the pit lord entertained himself with the outmatched crew of adventurers, Rozka himself managed to wound the fiend and collect the blood, much more than I needed even. Perhaps if this works, the surplus can be used in experiments elsewhere... Now to enchant and prepare this blood to bring out the qualities of it's former owner. -The guilt in my heart weighs so heavily upon me today. Chrystal went to sleep with ease for the blood transfusion. Everything seemed to be going so perfectly, but as the pit lord's bood infused with hers, she awoke in a fury of screams and cries... She begged, and pleaded for me to help her, it hurt her so bad... I could do nothing more than watch, as interrupting the experiment surely would have meant her death. My heart aches to see my queen in such pain - never before did even Lizara's tears pain me so. I'm sorry, my love, but it is for your own good. -It has been two days since the transfusion, and Chrystal's body seems to have accepted the blood. She has been silent, however, and refuses to speak to me. I know she is upset, I would be for sure. But increased levels of aggression in her actions already show me success in my workings. She'll forgive me soon, she just needs to see the results of the experiment before she does. Also to note, I was very pleased this morning. General Rozka led an attack on a gypsy merchant caravan. He brought back some odds and end fineries, one of them being a small cage that housed a phoenix. Beautiful creature...
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Post by Sunshine on Jul 5, 2008 15:24:38 GMT -5
Ilarra Stormrunner sat down heavily at her desk. Blood trickled down one long leg and pooled on the floor, but it would be several hours before she became aware of it. Red high-heeled footprints stretched all the way back down the hall until they reached the front door. She picked up her pen.
I visited Chrystal's mother last night...
A flash; a dark blur as the film reel winds backwards into memory.
-- The shadow's face reminded Avira Kaleigh of Death. She should know; she had seen Death recently, met him sooner than she would have liked, and somehow, empty sockets in a hood and half-moon spectacles on a shadow produced similar visual effects. And then there was the choice in color scheme...
"...So you never met him?" asked the shadow, and lit a cigarette. Dark smoke drifted lazily off the end of it, and floated through Avira's transparent shoulder. She shivered.
"I don't even bloody know who this 'Mavalos' is, you wretched girl. Leave me in peace!" said Avira, glaring up at the shadow. Glaring up, because the shadow was seven feet tall; also because, with her ghostly neck reaching an end in a still-bleeding stump, Avira was forced to hold her head in the crook of one arm, slightly angled so as to get a better view.
"Right then," said the shadow. Her voice like icicles wrapped in silk. "Thanks."
The shadow turned to walk away. Avira scoffed and fell to a seat atop her headstone, landing carefully so as to avoid falling all the way through it. Being intangible really sucked... --
I asked her if she knew anything about BB, then I left.
-- The shadow dropped her cigarette and stubbed it into the dead ground with the toe of her shoe, then smiled, turned her face back to Avira, and started digging in her pocket for another. "Just one more question, then, if you don't mind."
"Yes?" Avira's ghost's voice was petulant, reedy, and echoed very slightly in the plagued open air.
A match flared; the new cigarette caught, and illuminated a smooth, pale face behind the glasses and the shadows. Silver shone brightly in the rims of the glasses, in the rings of her ears, and even through the silhouette of her tongue as the shadow spoke.
"How is it you justify, I wonder—" The shadow paused, breathed in smoke from her cigarette, and leaned in close to blow it out through Avira's face. Bricu Bittertongue would have been proud. "—How is it, you bitch, you piece of demon shit, that you justify yourself?"
She paused; waited calmly for an answer, the cigarette cupped in one hand. Avira drew herself up in indignation, insofar as she could. She raised her free hand to strike the shadow's face, remembering belatedly that it would only drift through without substance...
Being a ghost really sucked...
"How DARE you—!"
The slap rang to the walls of Tyr's Hand. The shadow raised a slender hand to her cheek, then smiled.
"Yeah. Funny, innit?"
The shadow grabbed Avira's wrist and stepped forward, twisted her arm up behind her transparent back. Avira dropped her head in shock, and stiid rigid. The shadow watched in obvious boredom as Avira's heart beat faster, grey blood spreading out through greyer veins.
"Don't lose yer head now, yer royaltyness, I'm sure there's a use for it still." The shadow twisted Avira's arm higher. The ghost's head shrieked on the ground. "Funny thing, as I was sayin'. See, what happens when you turn a girl all insubstantial and shadowy is, other insubstantials– such as ghosts, for a for-instance– are all suddenly a lot—"
Avira's wrist snapped. She dropped to her knees.
"—more—"
Bone crackled and she screamed.
"—tangible."
The shadow kicked at Avira's head like a soccer ball. It went sailing through the air, bounced off of a dead tree branch, and rebounded back to the shadow, who caught it, then raised it to what was, more or less, head height. Avira looked her in the eye, then regretted it. The shadow smiled.
"So, darlin? What of it, then? How's a mother get so wrong she starts to hate her only daughter?"
"I will not be treated this w—!"
Avira shrieked again as the shadow swung her head against her tombstone. Her nouse crackled loudly as it broke.
"Well?"
Avira's head whimpered up at her. Greyish blood dripped to the ground.
The shadow gave her what could best be described as a death glare.
"And what about Jacob, huh? Chucking him off a roof. Really? Your own grandson."
"No grandson of m—"
"Oh yes he is," said the shadow. "You can't just erase your own relatives by wanting it; believe me, I'd know."
"Please just leave me alone," Avira moaned. "What's the point of this? I'm already dead, what does any of this matter? My daughter saw to it I was punished enough." --
It's nearly impossible to competely destroy a ghost. In most cases it's not even worth it; unless a ghost is malicious, like a poltergeist, in which case it's interacting with the tangible world anyway and therefore much easier to damage, there's really no reason to try hurting one. Despite some rare exceptions, like the spirits that still remain in Eldre'Thalas, Karazhan, and similar such places, what the vast majority of ghosts spend their time doing is sitting around and sulking. They're harmless.
A person would have to be motivated by extraordinary anger or hatred to go to the trouble of destroying a ghost.
Ilarra stared in confusion at the new words in her notebook, then crossed them out. Why the hell had she written that?
-- "Have you ever wondered what it is that makes a person become a ghost when she dies, rather than moving on to wherever it is she's gonna go?"
What was left of Avira's head gave a wordless gurgle. Its jaw had just been broken. Her body flailed its arms blindly, several feet away.
"Just give a nod for yes. Oh, you can't."
The shadow giggled and sat down on Avira's headstone, holding her head in her lap and nodding it for her like a puppet.
"I bet you have, being as you are one. I have too. If I was gonna bet, which, I'm known for that, I'd say that most ghosts are those souls which have yet to reach peace with themselves, so they stick around working on that for awhile afore vanishing into the unknown or the Light or Elune or whatever you wanna call it. It's tragical, really."
The shadow paused to smoke her cigarette, the head dangling down by its hair from one slender scarred hand. It glared up at her hatefully.
The shadow finally spoke again, smoke drifting up from her lips.
"So. Yeh, the point of this? Well— I figured I'd help you find peace, darlin..." --
Ilarra slumped at her desk, staring dully at her notebook. Images flashed behind her eyes— violence, pain, retribution, things vivid and and vague, memories, imaginings, and intuitions, all rolled together in a thunderstorm of sound and light and color...
No different from usual.
She sat up and fumbled in a pocket, then lit up a cigarette and swallowed from it, trembling. A stab of pain made her look at her leg, and she blinked.
When had that happened?
Avira Kaleigh's ghost had still had its sword...
...What did that have to do with anything?
It's a shame Avira couldn't tell me anything about BB, but then, I didn't expect her to be able to. It was interesting talking to her, though— the woman was a total pain in the ass.
Having seen Chrystal angry, I'm unsurprised to learn that there's some pit lord in her. The word would be "berserk." I expect her spare blood is also the reason she can bend eternium bars with her toes.
I had a dream the other night about the actual procedure, or one like it. A nightmare, rather. I woke and I couldn't stop trembling.
The thought of BB putting pit lord blood in other of his servants is a disturbing one. I truly hope none of them survived the destruction of his laboratory.
He claims his heart ached at Chrystal's screams, but I'm not feeling terribly moved for him.
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Post by Chrystal Kaleigh on Jul 29, 2008 13:27:57 GMT -5
-5- The Scarlet Knight - Aeslyn Duragos The pain within my heart. Light, crush my soul and deliver me to the deepest pits of hell where I deserve to be in this pain. I was struck today by my very own queen - my love - my creation. Never before have I felt such a pain in my heart. Those words she spat at me. Deceiver! Butcher! Madman! Murder! I hate you, I'll fucking kill you! How could she be so cruel; so... Brave? She stood her ground even as Rozka intervened upon her attack, and while he bested, and beat her rather mercilessly, she never backed down. My work is coming along quite nicely. I am pleased. This sudden outburst simply cannot become commonplace, though. What kind of deity has servants and lovers who show him no fear or respect? This will most definitely need fixing, my queen. Fierce loyalty is the shining trait of all true knights. And I do believe I know just where to start. -The Silver Hand is all but gone, splintered and empty with the death of Uther and the disappearance of Tirion Fordring. Others are beginning to arise, however. Most notably, I have seen the arrival of this Scarlet Crusade. Already do they make their place known, fighting fiercely against the sourge of Lordaeron. They keep a firm grip on the towns of Hearthglen and Tyr's Hand; and a most ironic thing I discovered days ago - Avira Kaleigh is a Knight in their service. Now, to look to that Hellhound of a bitch would be to double-damn my Perfect Bride, in forcing her mistake to be repeated by my dearest, as well as I would be imbuing her with the deceit that the mother Kaleigh has used to climb to her position of power as a Knight-General. Her right hand, however - now that is an entirely different story. Aeslyn Duragos - I watched you today. I've watched you quite often, actually. Such a pretty young woman you've become. Strong, intelligent, passionate, held back. Stuck beneath the boot of Avira Kaleigh, you'll never rise above her as you deserve, and you never truly wish to. You're content, because you're loyal. Nothing could break that spirit of yours. But since you'll forever be lackey to that black-minded daughter of deceit, I may as well import you into becoming a much larger part of my ultimate vision. Here, your sacrifice will be important. -I decided this morning, that I would be the one to take Aeslyn Duragos and bring her back for experimentation. I've become quite fond of her these past few days. Perhaps even she could replace my Chrystal, were she only blood of my Lizara. She succumbed quite easily to my charms, especially with my possession of Avira's lover - and now, quietly, she sleeps in my chambers. I'm sorry Aeslyn, but I need your courage, you'll be unharmed otherwise, I promise you. -As I said in last night's entry, Aeslyn was left unharmed. Fearing that I would need her heart for my Bride, I quickly discovered that just a transfusion of blood would work. Mixed with the blood of the Pit Lord, it would keep that fiery wrath within Chrystal, while giving her the loyalty and obedience I would need to command her. I've decided to keep Aeslyn as well - she captivates me. My bride to be is still to delicate and flawed for me to touch, so she will do just fine to appease me now, with the others. -Failure? I am still unsure. It has been two weeks now, and Chrystal has had time for the transfusion to take effect. She has grown increasingly aggressive in following my orders, while Aeslyn herself has seemingly came under a severe form of cowardice. It came to it's peak this morning, however, as Chrystal flew into a jealous rage, and tried to kill my sweet Aeslyn. The Knight's training was true, however, and while fully intimidated, and afraid of my Bride, she managed to escape. She escaped the compound, however, and this does not please me. I cannot be discovered, thus I have sent my minions out to silence her. Sweet Aeslyn, I do apologize that your end will come so soon. You had so much to look forward to in your young life, had you not fled my loving embrace.
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Post by Sunshine on Aug 26, 2008 18:36:56 GMT -5
Ilarra set down her pen carefully. She reread the journal's fifth entry from top to bottom, then reread it again.
She ran her scarred hands over the black book's black pages, took gentle hold of its black leather bindings, then in one movement threw it as hard as she could across her study. It flapped across the room, knocked a lamp off its perch-- the lamp shattered on the floor-- and thumped against the wall, leaving a shallow crater in the plaster. Breathing hard, she watched it flop to the floor.
There were only three comments in her notebook this time:
Pity Chrystal didn't kill him. Still worried about what happened to this Rozka guy. Hope he's dead.
Figures BB agreed with me about Avira. Good taste there.
...Oh ugh! What the fuck?!
She picked it up, read them, then threw it overhand after the journal.
"Fucking stalker CREEP!"
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