Chaos

[flammos200]

(( I have no idea what it's meant to be. Oh well... ))

Chaos... A series of goings on apparently unrelated to eachother. Most call it destructive. A blemish on their precious order-based thinking. Little do they know that all there is, is endless, perfect chaos.

Take for instance the paladin in the Stormspire, now sleeping comfortably beneath her beloved, after being covered in entrails in combat the day before. Funny demonslaying seems to go down paths unexpected...

But wait; There's more... That very same paladin once, in the Sunwell Campaign, saved the life of a Farstrider archer in the Shattered Sun. I should know. I watched her do it. Later on, I've seen the same Farstrider singing and playing a lute in a war camp on the Northern front.

...Where I ended up being saved.

Eris sighed on the mountaintop, all-encompassing night surrounding her, broken only by a moonlit, starry sky and the sound of distant-

"Footfalls." she muttered, reaching for her sword. It was nowhere to be found. She cursed under her breath as she heard the steps no longer. Whatever's stalking me seems to have become aware of my knowledge that it's there. Now it moves silently. It tries to take me unawares. I will not let it.

For a moment, all on the moonlit mountaintop was silent and still. Then, after a quick flash of rapid movement, wherein could be spotted the glint of claws and fangs, and the rustle of fur, all that remained was heavy breathing.

Eris' nose was tickled by a long, shaggy blonde ponytail and she sneezed, breaking the silence. The ponytail, of course, belonged to the person stalking her. Because you wouldn't expect hair to achieve sentience, now would you? A female figure, at first glance Sin'dorei, though more muscular than Silvermoon's average damsel, and carrying a distinctly savage tint to her movements, grinned above her.

...Her hands looked as though they were warped into claws, one pointed at my head, the other at my heart. Her grin - perhaps going through all I have been through has driven me insane but - bore no more than four fangs, canines as if stolen from the pictures of hungry, rabid wolves...

If only I knew where my runeblade was, I could Deat Grip it or...

"You're easy prey, for a Death Knight." the monster above me growled. I'm starting to wonder if this is my final night. What have I achieved? What have I left behind? What scars? What blessings?... Sure, I've fought. Maybe I'll...

"Worg got your tongue, Knight?" the girl atop the death knight asked, shifting her position slightly, her fingers tightening on the grip of her claw-like fist weapons.

"I... No. What are you going to do?" I ask. I need to know. I need to...

"Nothing, really. I was just bored, so I followed you, took your weapon away and decided to show you just how vulnerable you can be when your eyes glow blue in the darkness..." she said to me, and I beheld her, bewildered.

What kind of predator hunts another just to prove that they are prey?

"Uh... Alright. Mind getting off me?" Eris asked her.

Predator unstraddled prey and sat beside her, slipping the claw-like weapons back onto her belt. Nearby, a massive white worg howled at the full moon. The girl just grinned at Eris. "So, what'll we do, my newly-startled Death Knight? Shall we howl together, or perhaps spend the night together or whatever your kind do. I know Jidaeo meditates..." she added in ending thoughtfully.

I think I have found it, or rather, it has found me. Chaos itself. Senseless. Meaningless. Yet... somehow, in its happy anarchy, it is free...

"S-sure... I tend to meditate too..." I look around, outstretching my arm to a nearby bush. My runeblade flies from it, and into my hand, and I sheathe it across my back, laying down on the grass afterwards.

"D'aww... You're gonna have to show me how to do it..." She says to me, and I don't really know if she's joking or not. Who is she? What is she? This... scion of Chaos.

"Alright... Just sit there and relax all your muscles, let your entire body fall limp... And become conscious of your breathing, and slow it slowly..."

And so it begins... You'd think life as a Death Knight makes you come across many strange things. Yet few I've gone through were on par, much less weirder, than this...

I still wonder... Will she be gone by morning's sun? Will I be gone?...

Isn't it a bit strange that a Death Knight fear for their life?

"Yeah... This is reaaally relaxing. What now?" the girl asked, waving her hand in front of Eris' eyes.

"Oh. S-sorry. I drifted off... Umm..."

...

Chaos Theory suggests that events that appear completely unrelated to eachother at first glance are connected on a deeper plane, in a sense yet unperceived.

[flammos200]

Chaos. That is how it always begins, and how it always ends. When we were young and superstitious races, we clung to the faith that all begins and ends in Chaos... in oblivion.

I had taken blade up against my friend. Against my sister in arms. Against my lover. I had been stricken down, a sharp pain streaking light lightning through my head, and through my mind. Something... a jolt of it. A sense of lightness.

Encroaching darkness. It was all I saw. I was afraid. I was cold. In the darkness, I curled into myself. I was alone.

Once more, I relieved some of my lowest moments. In anger. I could take no more, on the Southern edge of Eversong, I took the head of Erisong Morrowmourne as a child and rammed it again and again against a runestone for what she did to me. I felt glee, I felt... power in vengeance. Yet...

...That was not me. That was all before. Then Erisong died...

I remember burying the runeblades of that Death Knight, fearful to even touch them, at the foot of that very runestone.

I remember... The brightest moment of my life, afterwards. I felt it wash through me. The Light. The true Light, as it flowed about in waves out from the Sunwell on the very apogee of its restoration, and something seems different. Something -is- different. I can feel it. I look around. And I see Lene. She smiles at me. I never told her how much I loved her smile...

...She wants me to know she forgives me. She wants me to be at peace. I do not hear her. It is as though she speaks to me without words. Without even thoughts. It is as though her thoughts are my own, and mine are but the pages of a book, laid open beneath her eyes.

I don't want to fade away yet. I am not yet ready. I don't want to lose her. She tells me I won't. She just asks me to relax. I'm afraid. She's there. She calms me. She makes me happy. If this is what I last see, then I wish this moment remains for eternity.

Yet as all moments, it fades... That is what makes them precious no? These times we spend with our loved ones... They are a treasure.

Somehow, she does not leave me. Why is she here? Was she supposed to be here when the Sunwell was restored?... How is it-Stop questioning, she tells me, and enjoy the experience. I smile at her and nod, as I have countless times before. She stands above golden waters...

I stare at her for a moment. She is herself, yet something more. Something I do not understand, and I feel, could never comprehend... She is vast, and her mystery is aluring. I feel...

We stand above golden waters. There is something deeper to everything I sense. A feeling of vast reaches, far beyond mortal comprehension. I reach out. She is there. I am there. But there is also more. So much more. I look up from the golden glow. I hear...

She speaks to me. She tells me things... Strange things. Yet good things. Things we are not supposed to know, yet the thought of them brings me calm, pleasure, and warmth. For some reason, they are the lost part of my half-forgotten dream. They are something I am not meant to remember, and I fear, I never will...

...I remember... chimes...

My eyes open. She stands over me, looking very worried. She speaks in chimes... and then come words. When I speak, I hear the same... And only after comes the meaning to fill the music of speech.

...And now I understand. I need not be afraid. We are both there.

And now I know.

Arlyn stands from her small writing desk next to a mound of cushions, eying the outside noon, the sun hanging high over Eversong, bringing in the smell of fresh flowers. She does not bother to pick up the piece of parchment she'd been writing upon. She leaves it there, and trods forth, in full plate armor.

Who is to separate the real from unreal, and waking from a dream?

No one.

There is no higher power to tell us such is such, and not the other way.

I know what I know, and I do not know what I have forgotten.

...But haven't you ever had the feeling that you once knew everything? That you once were something greater and that everything new that you see in this life is only a half-remembered dream? And moreso, that after it is over, you will return to your former state?...

Those who are born and begin in Chaos can only end in Chaos yet again.

[flammos200]

The most beautiful thing about Chaos is that it is infinite in its possibilities. Like a flower, it blooms, but you never know into what.

Lina Til'danal, a renegade even among those that shared in her 'profession', sat at a table in the Salty Sailor tavern, of Booty Bay, for her third ale of the day, and in one flashing computation of her mind's eye, recounted the day's events.

His name was Maldrick.

He walked up to me, literally, and asked me to kill him.

I've had a lot of strange requests along my one hundred and thirty-six years of age, but... Being asked, blatantly, to kill someone... That hasn't happened before. I asked him if he was serious.

He said he was -dead- serious. Deep down inside, I laughed. Kal seemed to know my thoughts. She laughed. I hope no one was nearby. She loves following me around in her invisible state. The problem is that when she walks at my side, her hooves tap against whatever she's treading on. I don't mind it too much.

I drank my ale, asked him a few questions, stood, exited town, and he sat, asking me to do it. So I did. I simply torched him to ash. I gathered a handfull of his ashes...

Lina pats the pouch on her belt, seemingly reassured by its presence. She stands and walks out.

...

A lone Sin'dorei stood on the deserted topside of the ruins of Lordaeron, her hand clutching ashes in front of herself. She spoke not Thalassian, nor Common, nor any tongue of sane men. She spoke the demon's own, their words warping sanity and reality in front of herself.

"In honor of your fallen, Maldrick, I commit the remnants to their rest."

The warlock's hand opened and as the ashes dropped, a sickly, yellow-green fel-flame charred them into nothingness.

It's what he would've wanted, I think... He asked me of oblivion. Where his spirit lies now, nothing remains. He has become nothing. Mere flames were but the first part.

...I find it amusing that my first act, my homecoming, is putting someone to the torch. I... do not yet know what to think. Are there any still on Azeroth who would fight as I do?...

Lina shook her head and trodded for the Undercity, leaving behind her nothing. She mounted the first bat for Quel'thalas and smirked slightly.

His name was Maldrick. He was Forsaken.

-----

Though, as Chaos brings about odd changes, neither good, nor bad in truth, we can only witness them. For some reason, we can never truly affect them... The world, no matter how powerful we are, is not ours. It is never ours.

Cela Shadowstar, Priestess of the Moon turned... something more, stood atop a hillock in an oasis in the Barrens. Her hands ran across moonstone, a metallic tool scratched at the stone, slowly shaping it. The woman sighed and kept on scraping. It would take weeks to make another. But she did not care. She just worked.

A twin path. Balance. The two sides of the medallion must be equal for it to be whole. Understand that the light is balanced by darkness, as shadows are kept in check by light. We must grow alongside the world. And the world will grow alongside us. Simple...

The faintest etchings of a silver moon and a black sun began to form on her moonstone object.

By the time the medallion is finished, Sagi will have understood.

-----

Another of the troubles of Chaos is that it is unpredictable. You can never be too certain of anything. People especially, are unreliable. They make and break even their promisses with ease...

A darkened forge deep in Ashenvale turned unlit to the sounds of a hammer. A centuries old armorer and weaponsmith worked ceaselessly for days on end. Minutes later, out of a house nearby tread forth a singe Kaldorei woman, clad in black and red armor, gleaming reddish swords crossed upon her back, alongside an armored bow. Silver hair ran from the very top of her head down, past her waist, and just as silver eyes stared ahead. She exhaled once into the armor piece that ran around her head, a faceplate as expressionless and void of emotion as herself.

"Traitors." came a metallic growl from beneath the faceplate. "For treachery, there can be only one verdict. Death." sang the steely voice into the dim light of the forest.

Yet, as we are bound by our words, so are we bound by deeds. You could easily jail a man to limit his freedom, but it would take far more to take his speech, and nothing whatsoever would take one's thought from them...

In thought, Chaos reigns supreme.

[flammos200]

Whether plant, animal or person, there is a constant to our existence. Growth. Though, as Chaos would have it, we sometimes go along paths very deviant from the rest of our kind. This change is usually a sign of adaptation to new conditions.

When change comes slowly, we call it evolution. When it comes quickly, we call it revolution.

Take for example the savage of a noble race, as opposed to the noble of a savage race.

Elil sat in front of a campfire deep in Feralas, in almost green light, all of it filtered by the massive amount of leaves in the trees, not one shred of a sun ray actually reaching her unfiltered by the foliage. The girl grit her teeth and growled some unintelligible, bestial, guttural order at the massive white worg at her side. Her arm was bleeding profusely and she clutched at it, palm pressed over the wound to try and stop the flow of her lifeblood.

She slowly uncupped her hand from around the wound, offering it to the worg. The large wolf-like beast licked all across it until it was clean. Canine saliva was a far better disinfectant than anything she had on hand. Using sinew from a previous kill as thread and a sharp splinter of bone as a needle, the girl stitched shut her injury, then wrapping it in what seemed to be crudely-made bandages.

Well... Seb could've fixed it better, but... I'm no surgeon. If worst comes to worst, I'll have him take a look at it. Anyway, I've still got a few drops of my potion, which should help heal the thing closed nicely. Mental note, tho': Don't f**k with Naga.

And with that thought, the girl uncorked a small badly-blown glass vial which she had taken off her belt, and poured its contents over the crude bandages, sighing afterwards.

Still, at least I got some food out of the whole thing. Naga are corrupted things, though. Not sure I should eat them. I wonder if it's cannibalism considering they came from elves... Well, I probably shouldn't think about it too much. I mean, if I fry 'em, they taste just like fish.

Elil eyed the piece of strange meat hanging on a spit over the campfire and took it from above the blaze, waving it about a bit to cool it off, breaking off a bit with a flint knife and taking a taste of the juicy morsel. She nodded to herself in satisfaction and proceeded on with her dinner.

Heh. Life's more fun in the wilds than in some posh pansy Silvermoon. Let'em keep it and stew in their stone-walled cages. I wonder what I should do with all this money Jiddy's giving me... I wonder if he knows I'm here. Wait. No one knows I'm here... Heh. Even better. Tho', either Skaar or Urzhad'll come looking, I'm sure...

-----

Runic blue eyes observed the Plaguelands beneath. Something was happening, but Kynra Cinderstrike decided not to find out what. All she saw were green lights and smelled death. It was so strong it seemed to strengthen her. The reek of death, they say, feeds a Death Knight's Endless Hunger. Yet still, despite the sensation, Kynra frowned.

Why here of all places? Why so close to Acherus? To home?... Do we even have a home?... I wonder if I should have killed that elf, or perhaps... interrogated him somehow...

No. I've decided. I'll just see to Sanya and that will be the whole of it. I can't let her relapse back into what she was. Not after such a redemption. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I'd doubt she's the same as the one I was after. Is she still the same, deep down inside? Is she playing?...

...Is she looking for weakness?...

She'll find none.

[left]Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer still.[/left]

-----

It is not often in our lives that we come across such marvelous forms of Chaos as oxymorons. Paradoxical associations of two facts very much in opposition with each other.

Lina Til'danal is one such abomination. She stood atop a ledge high above Shattrath and gave the city that had served as her home for years an eye-over.

I've found two more to fight for the defense of Azeroth, here on Draenor. Revenge against the Legion draws closer with each step. With each that pledges to the cause of vengeance, all life seems to wish to fight back more. We won't stand and be crushed beneath the hooves of the Burning Legion. Draenei themselves have fought alongside me when I displayed my... abilities. It is time that we took the demons' fire for our own, and wielded it against them...

That they may taste...

...our terrible wrath...

[flammos200]

Curiosity killed the cat, so commonly our proverbs remind us, yet oft' we forget that... we are not cats. Some of us are quite the opposite. Chaos, for instance, feeds off curiosity, and the ways it brings people together with the same ease it tears them apart.

Elil was hungry and bored. She knew what that meant. So, I have to get back into society, just one little tiny bit. I just wanna find something interesting, and then I'll go back. Maybe some weird sight, or some shiny stone or something. That, and my supplies are low. I need another knife for starters. Making arrows is boring, so I'll prolly buy a fair amount of them from the Shu'halo...

Elil clambered off the hill where her camp was and trailed cheerily across a log conveniently bridging one side of a lake to another, humming to some strange tune, of an origin unknown to the wild-woman.

Lessee... They've always been nice to me. Always traded well. Maybe they have something interesting this time... she thought, entering Camp Mojache, and speaking to a Brave.

"Hey... Anything new happen of late? Anything interesting? Maybe you've seen someone pass by or something."

"Ah, I've been expecting you." he coughed into his fuzzy fist. "Gets old, doesn't it, Elil?... A pair of your kind-But different, in armor, with swords, on horses came through. I think the two of them all are somewhere in the inn, sleeping. I remember when they came from their scouting trip, or whatever it is they did out in the West, they looked like their Ancestors stared them in the face."

"Strangers? Elves?... Blood Elves here? Why would..." Elil trailed off, thinking. In the end, she peered up at the Brave and nodded. "Thank you kindly.." she murmured, then darted for the inn.

"Winds be at your back..." came the rumbling reply of the Tauren to the departing Blood Elf.

I've gotta' see this. I mean, if they're here, this must mean something. I hope they didn't break anything or hurt the wilds. I'd kill them if they did... I swear, they'll probably end up... anger boiled in the huntress as she turned a corner up on the second floor of the Inn. She eyed a pair of Sin'dorei girls sleeping peacefully on a hay bed. Elil had come as soundlessly as any self-respecting predator, but now stood dumbfounded.

...They look so happy... I was once like that... With Narine.. And Swyll... Maybe this is some sort of sign... I'm going back to the wilds... These two deserve their happiness.

Elil spun on her heel and sprinted towards the balcony, leaping off it and into the lake below. She eventually swam to the lake's side, supplies and all, and returned to her tent.

Who are they?... Why are they here?... Should I ask them?...

[flammos200]

Chaos brings harmony in its discordant opus. Observe, for instance, the similar reactions of people in completely different situations, and for completely different reasons. How remarkable the thought of the mere mortal, so guided by cause and effect, that it loses sight of the entrancement of its own existence. Where one forgets...

...It is all just a ride.

-----

Traitors, the lot of them. Now that 'Gladdy''s dead, I can move on to Sagi. One after the other, they -all- will perish. Death is the only verdict these things deserve. They are no longer Human or Kaldorei or Sin'dorei... No... They are filth. And I will clean them from the world, bringing about a new age, a better, -brighter- age...

Sylvandre cackled in the dimly lit room, preparing her fel-steel armor and weaponry for transport. She went downstairs and cut her hair, dying it. Lastly, she left for the nearest Night Elven settlement and had markings inked upon her face, ever so lightly. She could, of course, remove them afterwards. But for now, they would serve.

She sent a Storm Crow to Alexas Lynn Kalter with the following message:

Dear Alexas,

I need a replica of myself, a copy of my body made. I will grant whatever aid and resources the Pride has, but for now, I need a respectably-conjured corpse of myself made. I intend on delivering it to Sagi personally. Tell Anna, asking if she can help somehow with the conjuring. You Autumns have far more spell casters than we do. I think you know what I intend on doing. There are posters of us, wanted posters... I intend on delivering to our hat-man my own body.

And ending it then and there. The way of escape will be up to you Autumns and my own troops. May the Goddess watch over us all in the coming days. You'll need to work fast. Spread the word. We end it. Annabelle can have the body. I've arranged for a means of transporting it out of there. Her hopes of redeeming a treacherous enemy are not in vain. I only carry out the sentence. What comes after, is your choice.

Sylvandre Cloudtear; Sentinel

And so it begins. The final task. Endgame.

-----

Traitors, the lot of them... Fighting on the Northern border of -my- Forest. -MY- wilds. I did not interfere. I watched. I was sure. So sure, the coming of those Blood Knights would foretell conflict and destruction. Somehow, the demons and those that brought them were quelled and everyone dispersed. I wonder why. I think they wanted to stop the summoning and save the forest.

Why? This is my home. Not theirs. Orcs, elves, and humans alike, all fought the dark ones that came from the North. Elil pondered, sitting about her campfire, staring directly into the flames, almost unblinking, her eyes watering from the smoke.

Yet, the Blood Knights themselves didn't fight. I found some tracks around the fight, but nothing conclusive... Hmph. I suppose they chickened out at the first sign of conflict... Anyway, I'm headed for Silvermoon. The elf girl got up, picking up a small, green-painted leather backpack, and donning a suit of similarly green scalemail she'd been storing in a crate. She snuffed out the flames and left the camp behind, atop a massive white saberworg.

[flammos200]

(( Sorry. I'm not really in the mood for happy fun stuff... ))

Things begin. Things end. Only Chaos is eternal...

-----

Sylvandre sat in her own bed, in her house, staring at the open pocketwatch in her hand, watching the hands. They moved. It is not unusual at all for a watch to do that, but this was no usual watch.

This doesn't make any sense. Time slows as you near death... Time should stop when you die. Unless... he's somehow not dead?... Who's this watch attuned to?... Did it slow as he died?... Will it slow as I die?... So many questions... The Clocksmith can answer. I cannot.

...I wonder where he is... I wish I got his name. I'll meet him again, though. I know I will.

The Kaldorei stared at the thirty-six hour faced watch for what seemed to be minutes on end, before finally closing it with a sigh, and slipped it beneath the sheets, shaking her head and trying for the life of her, to fall asleep.

It's getting harder and harder to actually sleep. I wonder why... I haven't changed much. Just laid off the Fel-steel... Maybe I'm worried. Maybe... I'm thinking too much. Maybe thought's what's keeping me up... Damn it. Stop thinking...

...I can't stop thinking. I'll never fall asleep... I'm so tired...

I wonder if I can die from this. I need some help...

-----

Memories of my time in the Shattered Sun fill my mind... And they are not pleasant ones. Have I ever told you what fighting demons is like?

You're told... they are the enemy of all life. You are told that they are evil incarnate, yet you are never told the horrors they bring to the battlefield... No one prepares you for that. No one can. No one ever will be able to... You have to experience it.

...And it is harrowing. I remember-

Arlyn knelt beside the marksman. She had a broken rib and was bleeding from the side of her head, slumped against a wall in the Sunwell complex. Arlyn herself was tired and battered, but her comrade took priority. It was so always.

The Paladin raised her hands to the marksman's temple, inhaling.

Come on, damn you. Please... Don't die... Don't you dare die! Come on! Help me save her! She frowned, Light flowing from her palms, into the wounded soldier, mending flesh and returning bone to its natural condition. It took some time, and the subject of the healing was unconscious.

How many?... How many more will have to be like this?... What if I wasn't here? What if I wasn't... What if they kill me?... I don't want to die. Something wrenched in the Paladin's mind, tugging at her. She heard a very faint sound, but couldn't tell what it was...

No. I won't die. They won't either. We'll win this... I know we will. The things they do... They won't stop us. Instead, we'll only be stronger. Because we know... We can fight. We will fight. Down to the very last one! Arlyn yanked a black and gold greatsword from the floor of the room, heavy plate boots thumping for the exit.

...Renewed vigor... Second wind... But the fear is still there...

...I don't want to die...

It's just a dream.

It's just a dream.

...No. It's not. It's a memory.

I'm so... cold...

-----

Whether born of Justice, or Light there -must- be something to motivate us. Something to anchor us, to keep us safe in troubled times. The shelter we go to, either another's arms or the comfort of one's own home... Whoever cries for help needs an answer, no matter the shape it comes in. If no answer to our cry comes, we fall...

...And of all that we have built in our lives, results only Chaos...

[flammos200]

There are many mysteries to the nature of people 'cross the worlds. One of them is the incessant need to flock together, for only after to flock apart once having decided that they are too close. Such is the case now...

Kynra & Sevith

High above Northrend, between the blackened walls of a Necropolis two beings make their shelter. A pair of runic blue eyes affix themselves upon the visage of the other figure. Both seem, by stature, Kaldorei. In the dim azure light, the walls, floor and ceiling of the chamber seem to be glistening black.

A hand goes for another, and brings it up to the runic eyes. Kynra sighs, frowning a little at the damaged gauntlet. "...At least you got it good. Did your whole arm go through again?" She asked, sounding amused.

Sevith, the ghoul, peered rather birdishly at the Death Knight, head tipping to the sides. "I did, miss Cinderstrike, but it didn't have any glowy eyes. It just flopped down. It needed a rest, I think."

Kynra nodded, chuckling. "Yes, it most likely did. Only we can never find ours..." she glanced to the walls, before looking back to the gauntlet, and Death Gripping the pieces of it back into place, before slipping it off the Ghoul's hand. She winced, closed her eyes, and sighed. "Where did it fall?"

The Ghoul looked from the exposed knuckles of her bare hand, to the eyes of the Death Knight. "About two miles West." she said quietly. Kynra had, by then, covered the knuckles in necrotic energies, sealing shut the flesh of the hand, and repairing it to its pristine nature. "Good. Do you mind waiting in the Glowshrine?"

"If it's what you wish, then I'll do it. But I really, really don't want to be too far away from you." Sevith lowered her gaze to the floor, and brushed a fleck of something dark away with the tip of an armored boot.

"You won't. And I'll be back quick. Just wait in the Glowshrine." were Kynra's words as she turned. Her feet, wrapped in a few straps of crimson leather, patted against the floor as though it were wet. She moved for a wall and pressed on it, and light poured in for a split second, revealing the gruesome scene within.

The insides of the floating structure were caked in crimson, bathed in blood - literally. It was on the walls, the ceiling, the floor, as though suspended in an eerie stasis, ever-fresh and wet. The view passed quickly, as within, the Ghoul turned for a deep blue glow, somewhere on the far side, as the entrance closed once more, shielding the world from the grisly view.

Sevith stepped for the glow, and what she saw made her bare her little fangs in a grin. A large chamber, filled with all sorts of glowing crystals, gems, jewels, but also simple stones that shone brilliantly in the impeccably cleaned room, as well as caches of more normal light-bearing objects, among which a massive stack of glimmering wands. The glowing objects were set just so that the viewer, in this case Sevith, would see light pass through all the colours of its spectrum, and only then combine into a brilliant white somewhere above.

Almost immediately, the ghoul went for a particular pair of blue stones, plucking them off the small shelf they were set on, and squeezing them against her. They were the same colour as a Death Knight's eyes.

Meanwhile, on the exterior of the floating citadel, Kynra turned to face the black monolith before a smile crossed her features, blood-caked hair cracking its strands free of one-another in the wake of a gust of wind. The Death Knight stood right on the edge, heels uncomfortable on the sharp edge of the viewing platform coming from the building. She leaned back, and exhaled, allowing the feeling of weightlessness to wash over her.

Crimson robes fluttered as she fell. In strange patterns, her hair weaved its way through the wind. Her fingers fanned out, as though reaching for something, arms outstretched. Then relaxed...

Yet there was no thump. No crunch. No sickening smash, nor one single digit lain on the ground that day by the Death Knight.

Strange people beget the strangest of actions, don't you think? In the end, what is seen can be perceived as good or bad, yet it is all a matter of points of view.

[flammos200]

Darkness, quiet, perfect night
Endlessly conceal the fight
Which rages 'neath an azure eye,
For those who would refuse to die...

Kynra & Sevith

Kynra pushed herself upwards, off the floor of the Necropolis. Sevith darted to her side from the Glowshrine, eying her over quickly. "Are you all right, miss Cinderstrike? I was worried... I put up the decorations, as you asked."

The Death Knight blinked up at the Ghoul as she managed to straighten, upright. She took the other's hand, perhaps to help herself in keeping her balance. "Yes, Sevith. I'm fine. I hope it didn't take you too long."

"No, not at all, miss Cinderstrike." the ghoul broke into a grin. "Working for you always feels good. Do you like it?" the Kaldorei undead spread her arms wide at the walls.

Kynra dipped her head in a nod and moved for the center of the room, bending down and tapping a tile on the floor with her palm. The palm stuck and she winced, before pulling it away. The tile now glowed a runic blue that spread along the floor and walls, revealing a pristinely clean Necropolis, its unholy motifs covered in entirety by white silken sheets that waved slightly as a current of fresh air breezed through the dark floating citadel.

"...It's perfect." The Death Knight admitted, grinning. She took a step towards the Ghoul and wrapped her arms around her. "Thank you." she breathed out.

Sevith let her arms drop to her sides, perhaps unsure for a moment of what she should do. "You're welcome, miss Cinderstrike. I liked putting them up for you." she tipped her head rather birdishly to peer at Kynra with a puzzled expression, her light-less silvery orbs dark in the dim light. She eventually raised her hands and put them around the Death Knight.

Kynra released her. "Now, what do you think we should do? We can go anywhere. We have all this... And more." she gestured to the silk-wrapped walls. "...And I'll try not to get any blood on the sheets." she added, staring at the white coverings.

"Wherever you want to go is fine by me. As for the blood... We-I can always clean it afterwards." the ghoul smiled, scampering in front of the Death Knight, and peering into her eyes.

Look at her - she's... so life-like. Yet undead. She looks so happy... Who could ever be happy in an existence such as ours? Is it wrong?... What do I do now?... Elune will split my soul asunder for bringing eternal unlife to one such as her, but... It's with a good intent. I'm trying to do the right thing. I... "All right, we're going to keep flying over Zul'drak for a while. I like watching the Argents here. They give me hope." Kynra smiled. It was a genuine smile, though it carried the faintest hint of sadness.

"Fine by me. Umm... Miss Cinderstrike, have you brought anything...?" Sevith eyed her over.

"Ah-Yes. Yes, I did, actually." Kynra slipped a hand into the folds of her robes, taking out a glowing, jagged piece of ore. Light azure veins flowed across its surface, as the ore itself glowed a dark blue. "This. I think it's Titansteel. I thought you might like it." she proffered it to the other.

Sevith quickly extended her hand, taking the piece of ore, careful not to cut herself. "Heh. It's really, really pretty. It has your eyes." she looked up at Kynra, smiling widely. She then blinked and jerked her hand back from the ore a little, a tiny trickle of blood coming from an index finger very slowly.

"Be careful with it. It's sharp." Kynra took the injured finger, licking at it, before channeling a little bit of necromantic energy into the wound, sealing the flesh shut once more. "Better. Now, go pick a nice place in the Glowshrine for it."

"I... I will!" Sevith grinned gleefully, scampering off quickly.

Kynra turned, moving for the balcony, and stood there, staring out.

Am I so selfish?...

[flammos200]

We say we fight evil. We say we take up arms for what is right. We do terrible things in the name of good. We take life. Does that not make us evil? Do the terrible powers granted unto us not stem from the same darkness we seek to combat?...

Who watches the watchers?

Sylvandre

It was cold, though the wind did not blow. No birds were in the trees, nor animals, not even insects streaking 'cross the forest floor. It was as though time stood still in sheer terror. Everything felt... wrong.

A single corpse lay strewn through the meadow, its features unrecognizable. Opposite it stood the Warden, across whose forehead trickled a couple of drops of blood, down into the faceplate covering her visage. Next to Sylvandre stood her likeness, enwreathed in shadows, her Avatar of Vengeance, white eyes burning on its face of darkened features.

The Warden turned to face the Avatar, staring into the smoldering orbs lodged at equal height to her own. "What are you? Vengeance made manifest? Hatred? Law itself?"

The Avatar did not move, save for mimicking Sylvandre's breathing. "Vengeance... Hatred.. Sorrow.. Anguish.. Pain."

"So, you can only repeat the words I say, or have said around you?" Sylvandre tipped her head to the side, her silvery mane flowing in waves on her bladed cloak.

"Can only repeat..." came the distorted reply.

Sylvandre nodded once, more to herself than anything and blinked once she noticed the Avatar do the same. She stared, unblinkingly into its smoldering white eyes, and attempted to gather a few errant thoughts from its mind.

Slaughter, pain, wrong, justice... Hatred, vengeance, anguish, betrayal... Tears, blood... They started making more sense the more Sylvandre focused on them. Born of hatred, born of pain... Tears and blood - short existence, meaningful demise... Anguish, darkness, visions of justice. A scene flooded the Warden's mind.

A child knelt on the grass in front of her house, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cried between the broken bodies of her parents. She was the only one left and she knew it. Soon, they would come for her as they did for her parents, andt here was nothing she could do about it. She wasn't afraid. She was angry. She wanted vengeance.

All...

The girl raised a hand and brought its palm rapidly to the ground, wincing. A small silvery blade stuck out through its back and crimson blood - turned black by the darkness of night - flowed freely from the wound, mixing with the tears of the child. And then they came... And as they came, one by one, they fell to a shadowy adversary, one by one they rose to fight their comrades again in a new, twisted form.

Shall...

More such images of vengeance born of anguish filled the Warden's mind, again and again, each one with the same outcome, the same end... Slaughter. The telepathic link was quickly broken as her mind recoiled from the sights witnessed. Yet just as she blinked, to try returning her vision to the physical realm around her, a final word echoed through her very being.

Die.

Sylvandre was alone. Nothing save her, the grass and the trees was left living in the meadow.

And it was quiet.

[flammos200]

Kynra & Sevith

"All right, are you ready?" Kynra asked over her shoulder, towards the ghoul atop the bone gryphon alongside her. The cold wind blew past, cutting at flesh, yet neither of them bothered with it. Their attention was on the Necropolis floating right in front of them.

"Yes, miss Cinderstrike. But what's the surprise?" The ghoul replied, clinging to her master's torso and peering birdishly at the floating citadel.

"Just watch." The Death Knight answered and thrust a hand forwards, a Death Grip coursing from it and deep into the bowels of the fortress. Everything stood still for a moment, then the Necropolis lit up in the dead of night like a fire, tiny Winter's Veil lights covering nearly every surface, inside and outside. Kynra was grinning. "Sorry it took so long. I just thought I'd be thorough."

Sevith's eyes were wide as tiny saucers, and she reached out for the necropolis, from the bone gryphon's back. "It's... so... big!"

Kynra smiled. She ushered the bone gryphon towards the perch where fliers could land and dismounted once the beast did so. She helped the ghoul off the undead construct with a smirk. "Happy Winter's Veil, Sevith... Do you think Sanya'll come over?"

The ghoul was still busy ogling the glowing, lit-up walls, and only managed to tear her eyes from them to look at the Death Knight for a moment. "Happy Winter's Veil, miss Cinderstrike. And, I don't know. Whatever you think is best will do." she then averted her eyes back to the spectacle of lights.

Lina & Shazadi

"For once, we get to rest on healthy, grassy soil. No more charred earth for us now. It's the holidays." Lina smiled over at the elven form beside her.

"Mmm... And to think, we're so deep in the Nether we could just sprout wings and fly off." the other replied. She seemed to be the pinnacle of what nature could have created, every feature of her form pleasing to the eye. And not just that, the being entranced all the senses...

"I'm not Flappy for nothing, my lovely." Lina said, then slipped three things out of a folded black cloth. Two vials, one of a murky deep crimson, bubbling liquid, the other of what looked to be blood, and the last object was a red and white Winter's Veil hat. She set them on the grass next to them, as a warm breeze fluttered past, the trees' leaves rustling to it.

"What good is a celebration without a drink, hmm?" the succubus in mortal form purred out. "But why just one hat?"

Lina smirked a little. "Oh, you know.." she picked up the vial of the deep red liquid, and offered the bright crimson one to the other. "Cheers." she said, uncorking it with her thumb.

Shazadi nodded. She did the same with her vial and touched the rim of its mouth to the other, deep red vessel, before drinking down.

Lina did the same, and exhaled as they both finished. She reached down for the hat, grinning. She set it nicely on top of the succubus' head, taking care not to pin her ears under it and leaned back, to inspect her work. She nodded with finaliy. "It looks great on you. Then again, most things do." the warlock smiled. "Most pleasing... Merry Winter's Veil, love."

"Merry Winter's Veil, my mistress." The succubus seemed to glow with happiness to Lina's words and reached forwards, about to wrap her arms around the other. She then stopped. "May I?"

Lina chuckled, nodding. "Of course you may." she said, and the demon in disguise did so, tipping her back until they lay down.

The Winter's Veil hat later fell onto the grass, accompanied by other things...

Luelin

"We're sorry to have called you here on such short notice, but..." The black-haired elven woman looked down. "It's just a day or two to Winter's Veil, and... I couldn't bear Thea's crying any longer. Children shouldn't cry this time of the year..." A little girl, with similar ebon locks was hanging on for dear life to the woman's dress robes, her face buried into them, a faint sobbing coming from her.

Luelin, the silver-haired priestess of many faiths, smiled. Her bare hand raised and set itself upon the woman's shoulder, exhuding the same endless serenity that she always did. "It's fine, miss Tharoldrinnen. Please, lead me to the afflicted, that I may better give them the gifts that the season begets."

The Lady Tharoldrinnen raised her head and scrutinized the priestess, her eyes darting across the other's as though looking for something. She gave a nod and reached down to Thea, her daughter. "Come, little one. Let's see what the nice woman can do for us, hmm?" she asked the child with the faintest of reassuring smiles, taking her hand, and leading her into the estate, alongside the priestess.

Luelin followed, her step light, her robes of pure-white silk a stark contrast to the red and gold typical Sin'dorei decorations about the building. She blinked once they came to a halt, in a circular room, with a rise on the middle, upon which the body of a lynx lay on its side. A beam of sunlight tore through one window, hitting the pace where the wall met the floor on the opposite side.

"M-minn'da... Why did Shi have to die?.." Thea asked, her voice shaking. The woman had a pained expression on her face as she looked over to Luelin. "Shi didn't die little one... Merely fell asleep." she said quietly, but the child shook her head in denial.

Luelin was still perfectly serene as she circled the pedestal, standing opposite the two others, the body in the middle, between them. "Even from death, if the Light wills it, we can be saved." she said, raising her palms towards the sky, her sleeves slipping back and baring the white skin of her arms. "As from the Light came all we know. The beginning of life is Light, and in the end, we return to it."

The mother and daughter stared at the priestess, wide-eyed. Luelin seemed to be exhuding a large amout of white light, which flared most about her back, and from one palm to the other. The beam of golden sunset light that pierced the space of the room now turned silver as well, and fell upon the body, bathing it in its glow. "And the cycle continues. For so long as there is good and kindness in our hearts, the Light will answer our call, and guide us into the future." She lowered her hands to the fallen lynx and placed one on its head, the other over its heart.

And the Light poured into the beast, a bright flash emanating towards the end, before everything fell dim once more. Shi opened an eye and turned its head to lick at Luelin's hand. The Priestess smiled down on the cat. "Merry Winter's Veil, little one." she looked to the child. "Take care of your friend, Thea. Shi will still need your help for a few hours. Can you do that?"

Thea unwrapped herself from her mother's dress robes and darted for the lynx cub. She cradled the large catling in her arms and nodded, smiling up at Luelin despite the tears running down her cheeks. "I can. I will. I'll take good care of Shi. I Promise... But... Miss... Are you an angel? I heard An'da talking about them... But he said they weren't real."

Luelin shook her head, moving for the lady Tharoldrinnen. "Merry Winter's Veil, milady." she said with her ever-present smile and then she made her way out. Behind her, she heard Thea's voice "See, minn'da? I told you she was an angel! I knew it!"

[flammos200]

"For all of the monsters we face in our lives
Are nothing compared to the beast that's inside..."

Luelin & Sythrani

The Priestess Luelin Erethniel and the Paladin Sythrani Tharoldrinnen walked the gardens of the latter's estate, headed for a large, circular building.

"So, I heard you resurrected Thea's kitten." the crimson-haired Paladin said with a small smile as she ran through a keyring at her side.

"Mm." Luelin nodded. "I'd thought that no one should be lonely for Winter's Veil. Why? Is there something wrong with that?"

Sythrani shook her head, chuckling. "Nothing, Priestess. In fact, I meant to thank you, but didn't get the chance." she said as she found a large, black key and made for the similarly dark doors of the building. "Tell me, Priestess. What is the most terrible thing you've seen in your existence?"

"You're welcome, then." the silver-haired one answered with a smile. "And... I don't know. I think it's the Nexus War, though. Fearsome things, dragons.."

The Paladin nodded. "I see. Well, obviously, we can't keep dragons on the estate. The hall in front of us is called simply the Hall of Mirrors. Do you know why?" she asked as she peered at the other, slipping the black key inside it's lock. After a twist, a click was heard.

"It has mirrors in it?" Luelin asked, tipping her head to the side. A stray lock of silvery hair landed right down the middle of her face and she peered at it, cross-eyed, and tried furiously to blow it out of the way, cheeks going red. She eventually gave up and raised a hand to stroke it back behind an ear.

"Well... yes, though not ordinary ones. It's kept locked for a reason. The mirrors are pretty ancient. Almost as old as our bloodline itself. Now... They've been enchanted to mirror a person exactly as they are. To gaze into them is to see your reflection as truth. They show what you really are. Tell me, then, why are they so dangerous?" Sythrani asked, not pushing the doors open just yet.

"Because if people of darkness peer into them, they shall see their hideous reflection. And if the people of the Light gaze into their depths, they'll see themselves as divine. And seeing yourself as divine, tends to bolster your ego, thus diminishing your divinity..." Luelin answered, peering at the Paladin.

Sythrani smirked. "Well spoken, Priestess. Do you still wish of me to part the gates you see before you, then?"

"It would only be fitting." Luelin smiled. "That my divinity be lost by peering into a mirror. Let the gates open, and if I bear the sin of hubris, then I will come out with my head lowered. If I do not, then it shall be held high. Regardless, I go in with a bow."

"Very well." was all the Paladin said as she pushed open the doors to the Hall of Mirrors, both arms straining to move the ancient twin portals. "Go on, then." the Paladin saw the glint of mirrors' light beyond and turned quickly.

The Priestess shrugged and padded her way inside, soft shoes making little sound as they walked on the marble of the Hall of Mirrors. She looked around. Everything was covered in mirrors and only mirrors - It was as though she stood in a circular caleidoscope. She exhaled to what she saw. It wasn't relief, and it wasn't exhasperation. It was... something else.

Outside, Sythrani had a look of worry on her face. Her arms crossed, armored fingers tapping her plated elbows. Time passed. She blinked when she heard the sound of the creaking ancient doors swing open and the silver-haired Priestess made her way to her side, wearing a smile, her head perfectly level, held neither high nor low. "So, what did you see?" the Paladin asked as she pulled the doors closed and locked them without daring to look inside. "Darkness or Light? Relief or woe?"

Luelin shrugged. "Well, what would be the point of telling you? I saw myself the same way you see me." she smiled up at the crimson-haired one. "Exactly like that."

"So, what kind of person sees themself as they are in the Hall of Mirrors?" Sythrani asked, blinking.

Luelin put on a tiny smirk. "You figure it out. And tell me when you do... For now, though, I've people to tend to. Farewell, milady." she said, dipping her head in a nod.

"I.. umm. Goodbye, Priestess. And, take care." Sythrani exhaled, turning as Luelin made her exit off the Tharoldrinnen estate's grounds. The Paladin stared at the black doors of the Hall of Mirrors and the dark key in her hand.

Sythrani slipped the key into the lock once more.

[flammos200]

(( A tiny glimpse into a small corner of someone's mind. ))

"There's a fine line between enemy and friend.
Where that line starts, there's no beginning and no end..." - Bijaz of Frank Herbert's Dune.

Eris Serynzheri

It seems I've achieved more than I'd foreseen. I suppose that is another fact to Chaos. Eris stared at a vase of white lilies. Endlessness, time and time again we are tested. Tried. For what? Her view shifted to a snowglobe, wherein the estate grounds of the House Serynzheri were illustrated, a small blue light shining on them from the top of the clear ice dome, from which a gentle snowfall came unto the buildings inside.

There's something far greater to this. Haven't you ever felt it? Ruling a house... For some reason, for most of my life, things have felt distant, unreal... As though they were happening to a different person, and I was merely experiencing them. Now, I feel a sense of the immediate. Of the imminent. The Chaote sighed.

Nobility. Love. Lust... A smirk. Well, the latter is always there. Cravings of the flesh. So hard to resist the overload of my senses, the crackle of energy through my every nerve, as every fiber of my being burns with ardor. I wonder if Taiga has ever felt it truly, beyond the pain somewhere...

Oh what a delight. Her every display of emotion. So sweet, so... delicious. That lopsided smile. Eris grinned. I wonder if she knows just how utterly adorable that is, and how easily it could overpower the wills of those honest.

Eris blinked, looking down at her lap with a small frown. Her expression changed drastically. Was it sorrow? No.. Not quite. It was a strange mix of longing and..
Cieldrim... Why is it so hard to hurt her, same as with Taiga? It would be so simple... Perhaps I've grown attached? I don't know. With Taiga, my chest feels strange. Constricting. Blood accelerates and heats. With the other... Eris' frown deepened. What is this terrible sentiment that tugs at my very core, and why can I not drown it out? Why do I want them both happy and safe? Why can Chaos not burn that away?

Eris flopped back onto her back, staring at the octopus-like drape. She blinked, washing away the unpleasant train of thought. It really does look like an octopus. She smiled again. Cieldrim was right. She's more than useful. She's different from the other Serynzheris. Probably because she isn't one. Then again... a smirk. We'd know all about that, wouldn't we?

The Death Knight rolled onto her side, nuzzling a soft pillow. Ah, well. If Taiga really is going to follow in the House's footsteps, I'll simply have to be there with her, through it all. Chaos will ensure... everything.

And with a small grin, her consciousness drifted from her, as while Death Knights need not sleep, this was as close as it would get.

[flammos200]

Lyia & Sylvandre

Such an idiot... Sylvandre thought as she was perched atop a treebranch in the Shady Nook. The Liar was on the grass below her. She was watching.

Lyia looked around. "...I know you're out there... Well... All right, I don't know that you're out there. Spare us both the annoyance, -please-, and show yourself." she said, her head turning every which way.

Sylvandre dropped from her perch and landed, bladed cloak folded around her like black wings. With her came a sheet of darkness - a deep gray mist. "Yes?" was all she intoned.

"Ishnu'dal'dieb." Lyia said, only able to pick up the direction of the voice and what she made out to be a pair of smoldering white eyes. "I come with a.. request. I need a favor."

"My agents rarely ask for such. Speak, and you'll be heard." came the Warden's voice.

"Right. Good. Well, some time ago, in Ashenvale, this one supposed Sentinel drew blades on me because I wouldn't fight the Orcs. Called me a traitor, without knowing who I am and what I do. You don't like your agents being treated as such, do you?"

The smoldering white eyes narrowed in the ashen mist. "No, I do not. However... I don't appreciate being used to sate grudges, either. What is it you want?"

"Here. Best I can give. Name, description of the person, and their nightsaber." Lyia said, extending a hand with a large piece of parchment, out towards the eyes. The parchment faded into nothingness. "Show them who the real traitor is. I can't do a thing about it, so I'm asking for your help. I don't know how to deal with it, and I'm not about to assassinate one of my own, misguided though they are. Perhaps you can make them see the... light of the matter, because I couldn't."

"I've executed others for less." were the last words Lyia would hear from the eyes as they dissappeared into the mist which was quickly thinning, until it lifted and she was alone once more.

Near Raynewood, Sylvandre smirked beneath her faceplate. "Let's see.. The hunt recommences."

[flammos200]

Luelin & Sythrani

Luelin sighed. Her stance allowed her to deflect the incoming weapon with ease. Body positioning had her behind her blade, making for easy parrying. The light sword spun and smacked into the middle of the opponent's longsword. The Paladin holding it chuckled. "Damn it, Lul. Stop being so fast." Sythrani said.

"You stop being so slow. I'm not the one in armor. And neither am I a Paladin." The Priestess flashed the Paladin a grin and kept battering at her blade.

"Well, I didn't fight Dragons in some Northrend war." Sythrani retorted, as she seemed to be gaining the upper hand.

"You've fought worse. I know you did. You fought one of them." Luelin said as she ducked under a sword blow, one leg outstretched, to trip the incoming Sythrani, who staggered for a bit, and had to regain her balance, time in which Luelin had her sword up to the back of her neck. "Seems you win. Again. Why's a Priestess so good at swordplay? And why is one so muscular? Come on, I've stared war and death in the face, but you don't have tentacles and eyestalks." Sythrani said, turning slowly.

"...I had training, all right?" Luelin said with a smile.

"I don't buy it." Sythrani shook her head.

"Yes, well, it's still the truth, even if you 'buy' it or not." Luelin sighed. "And your form needs work. Now, what happened?"

"Well," Sythrani began, setting down her black helmet and sitting atop it, peering up at the Priestess. "I saw the most horrible things in the Universe when I went in there. I mean, fel, that One I saw? That didn't drive me crazy. But this did, apparently. They had some mind-mage over to see me. I was tied up and even so, I practically bit into the guy's face until one of them had the sense to knock me out. Anyhow, they repaired any damage the Hall of Mirrors might have done." she said.

Luelin's ears were perked, and she took a moment to let it all sink in. "Well... I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I had a resurrection on the other end of the continent."

Sythrani stood and patted the Priestess' shoulder. "It's fine. You're still my friend. And life's more important than sanity. Plus, it was fixed. And they took whatever was wrong in the Hall. Now it only displays stars. Huge, massive amounts of them. We're opening it up for visitors."

"That... would be a good idea if you know it's safe." Luelin smiled. "But what kind of a person reflects stars when they enter? Stars so bright the Hall would remain fixed to them?"

"No idea. And on that note, it's late for me. I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow, Priestess." Sythrani said with a small smirk as she turned for the house.

Luelin inclined her head to her. "Have a good sleep." she said then simply plopped down on the fragrant grass of the gardens, on her back, staring at the starry skies above. If the Tharoldrinnen estate had one great thing, it was the view of the stars. The Priestess smirked. "Hmm..." she slipped a hand into a pocket and took out a sugar rose, licking at it before munching it down.