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“Come, Metis!” Mezumiiru called out to her companion, a great horned owl she met in Darnassus in the early days of her training on Azeroth. The owl swooped from up high, hooting in excited tones as it slowed and perched on Mezumiiru's shoulder. “It's good to be away from all the conflict for once, right? Arathi is so much more peaceful than the Badlands.” Metis cooed and prepared for a nap when a distant gunshot jolted her into a defensive stance; her wings wide, reaching a wingspan of nearly a meter.
“Calm down, Metis.” Mezu said as she stroked the back of Metis' head. “Probably the Orcs from Hammerfall getting into a fight with the soldiers of Refuge Pointe again. You know how that is, although I had hoped it would have calmed down after the Cataclysm.” Metis looked grumpy and made a low growl, flying up again to go scout. Mezumiiru was used to this kind of behaviour. All she had to do was wait for her to return and she would know what was the matter. But Metis did not return.
“Metis?” she shouted, “Metis! Where are you?” Mezumiiru ran in the direction her companion had flown. No sounds were heard, no gunshots, no shrieks; nothing. Damnit, Metis! Never fly off on your own like that again!
A gunshot sounded, and another and another. In the distance she saw small smoke-pufts appear from bullets that missed their target. Mezumiiru fastened her pace and unsheathed her staff, anticipating she had to mingle in some conflict. So much for being away from conflict. She thought.
She could see them fighting in the disance: Humans and Orcs, battling over the farmlands in Arathi. Some of the Orcs pointed towards the sky with their Bows and Guns, aiming for Metis who skillfully dodged everything, and occasionally swooped down and even took an Orc down before veering back into the sky. With this relief, Mezumiiru rushed over the hills with increased vigor and jumping over a rock to cleave an Orc on half. If only the Orc hadn't seen her.
The Orc grunted and jumped back, readied an arrow onto his bow, aimed, shot, and scarcely missed, scraping Mezumiiru's shoulder. She charged at the Orc, enchanting her staff with Flametongue, cast Earth Shock with coördination only a Shaman of the Draenei could accomplish, stunning the Orc. She finished the combo with a swift whack of her staff. Years of training paid off. What is.. my arm is getting numb?
The Orc grinned as he recovered, “You Draenei are so weak to poisons and venoms, just like on Draenor! Enjoy the numbness while I launch an arrow in your pretty little face!” he slowly stepped closer and once more readied an arrow. A loud shriek made the Orc look back.
Mezumiiru couldn't see it clearly, but the orc moved frantically, dropped his bow and started clawing at his face. He eventually took an arrow from his quiver and motioned to stab whatever was assailing him. She heard a shlunk, and the Orc collapsed. A small form approached Mezumiiru and started cooing, the sounds around her becoming more faint each second. “Metis..” she said drousily, “You.. came.. back..”
Metis cooed, rubbing her head against Mezumiiru's hand, trying to comfort her. Mezu wanted to smile, but she had no strength left in her. In the distance she heard muffled voices, shadows crept towards her. She knew from their silhouette they were Human.
Despite being extremely tired, she did not fall asleep. Mezumiiru heard hardly anything, her sight was bad, but her sense of touch remained intact: She could feel everything.
What sort of vile poison did the orc use on me? She thought as she rocked from side to side on the horse. She was not comfortable.
After some time her hearing got better, but her sight did not.
“Who's the fancy little lass you get there, Bulferd?”
“Shut it, Makk. We found her in the field. She was unconscious by one of the Orc's venoms. I'm merely bringing her in for safety, and then I'm off to the farms again. We still have to fight the Orcs for that ram-shackle hold of theirs.”
“And we're stuck in a ditch. So how's that any better?”
Bulferd sighed and moved on, Mezu could hear and feel.
“Don't worry, lass.” he said, “You'll be safe soon. Just down this hill, and we'll be at the camp, far from the conflict.”
Mezumiiru felt grateful. She needed to remember his name if she ever wanted to thank him when she regained all her abilities. But for now she needed to rest, and she knew she was safe.
She felt herself being lifted from the horse, a man calling for aid, and then she was put on something soft. It felt like grass, or some very comfortable straw-bedding. Her weariness lowering, she felt her eyelids grow heavy once more, and as she felt Metis crawling up to her, she slowly drifted asleep.
Birds flew overhead as Alexsy bathed in sunlight, their chirping filling her with joy. Beside her a Stonetalon Skunk sniffed the air, squeeked and ran off to find one of its friends who greeted eachother happily. Nature was slowly coming back into balance after years of being war-torn; even the Cataclysm had left the area untouched for the most part.
The Night Elves tried to settle in the lands and regrow what was lost in the past years. The Horde, who were now scarce, did not bother to interrupt them, their Tauren allies forbidding them as what the Night Elves were doing was for the good of the land. The Orcs were reluctant at first, but eased over time.
She had lived in the Stonetalon region for years long ago, with a family that was now no more than a memory, killed in the days of The Sundering by the ancient progenitors of the Tauren. The Tauren whom now had an alliance with her kind in the Cenarion Circle. She loathed the circle for that, and it drove her back to here, to the mountains she once called home, to find peace.
But Alexsy knew this peace was not to last long. Where one faction goes, the other follows in an endless struggle for power between the two. She could feel the upheaval in Ashenvale, the battles being waged, nature being disturbed. But now she felt something else, something she could not place. Nature was not pleased, that she could tell, and there she was headed: To the north-east of the region.
It was a vast canyon of dead trees, and fresh water coming from a lake. But that is not what her eyes fell on. It was the mountainous wall to the north of this canyon, it was there where nature felt as if it was in pain.
Alexsy slid down the hill, lept, and transformed into her travel-form: A mighty stag with pearly-white antlers and a soft-brown fur, with shine of blue. Unique to her only. She rode on, through the river, past the old sawmill and through the remains of the once lush woods.
When she came close to the cliff, she could see pebbles tremble and hear a terrible sound coming from the other side. Muffled voices, clashing of weapons, shouts of pain and anger. There was a battle going on for controll of the cliff? But there was no path over, through or under it to enter Stonetalon from Ashenvale.
The drilling stopped, the shouts from the other side of the cliff became louder and then an explosion. Alexsy was flung away by the blastwave. As she flew through the eair she was pelted with rocks, roots, even a few animals unlocky to also have been caught in the blast. She hit a tree, hard, and all air escaped her lungs. As she fell on the ground she gasped, looked up -her vision blurry from the lack of air in her lungs. She could see shapes climbing over the rubble from whatever was left of the cliff. One was shouting orders, his blue armor shining in the sunlight. He was clearly an Orc of great status. Alexsy tried to get up, she had to get to safety, but she was too weak. She knew the Horde would find her sooner rather than later.
She thought back, to the time around her training, her mentor's voice echoed through her mind. Remember, Alexsy: A Night Elf is a creature that can adapt to any surrounding. Focus, and you will become near invisible, so long as you stand still. Watch! In her mind, she saw how her mentor vanished from sight, even his shadow dissapearing.
Alexsy quickly focussed, taking in her surrounding and easing her breathing. She saw Orcs coming her way, cheering and chatting, hauling axes, weapons, and supplies. But they did not see her. Alexsy knew she would have to stay hidden long enough for her strength to return.
And so she stayed hidden, until the sun set and the Orcs went back to their camp, just outside of the blast zone. It has been a busy day for them and their Goblin allies. They cleared most of the rubble, and had made a decent path between here and Ashenvale.
Beyond the gap in the cliff she could see, and hear, Night Elves clashing with Horde forces for controll of this new pathway. Will this war never end? She thought as she looked at the destruction and mayhem. She shrugged. Her strength had returned sufficiently, so she decided to sneak off, towards the Night Elven settlement. She stood up, trying to keep her focus, and ran.
She ran as fast as she could, not risking a transformation into any of her animal forms as that would sap her strength faster. She saw torches on a hill to her left. Something was being built there, but not by the Night Elves.
She looked in front of her again, and nearly ran into an Orc who was ready to strike with his axe.
“We got a runner, boys!” the Orc shouted, “It's hunting time!”
“No!” Alexsy shouted, and strangled the Orc in thorny vines.
Shocked at what she had done, and with the knowledge she was now a target, she transformed into her Stag form and made headway for the Night Elven settlement, bashing Orcs out of the way with her antlers. Some managed to swing their axes, damaging them. Her hope grew when she saw the tower of Windshear Hold.
She saw Elves patrolling the cliff leading up to it. Good she thought, The battle has not reached them yet. But as Alexsy got closer to Windshear, she saw torches snuffed out one by one, followed by a cry of pain. Suddenly, the entire settlement became alive with the sounds of battle.
And as Alexsy raced towards her kin, she could think only one thing. War is coming.
Anima - Alexsy (Ch.4)
A new chapter for the "Anima" storyline. This time featuring 'ancient' druid Alexsy. This story takes place on Kalimdor, and has a focus on an entirely different goal than Vysto and his 'horde'.

What does this mean? Read, and find out!

It has been years since the Horde and Alliance drove Cho'gall out of his little fortress in the sky, his 'Bastion of Twilight'. Cho'gall had been a fool if he thought he could hold out long enough. His foes were heroes, the people who brought down C'thun in Silithus; defeated Illidan in his own home, the Black Temple; sent Kil'jaeden back to the Twisting Nether, or so it is believed; defeated the Lich Kel'thuzad once and for all; braved Ulduar and defeated an Old God and its corrupted wardens; and released the world from the Lich King's grasp.
This did not mean, however, that Emizuna would have the peace she needed to continue her research. All around her the remnants of the Twilight's Hammer, and the combined forces of the Horde and Alliance clashed. She had to relocate her lab several times, ultimately holing up in a small crag in the Elementium Depths. She hid this place expertly utilizing her Shadow Magic, something that earned her exile from the Draenei.
The Draenei, or Exiled Ones. She laughed. “An exile amongst exiles. How times have changed, Emi.” rumbling all around her notified that the fighting had shifted to the Depths. “Nothing lasts forever, it would seem. You have to admit that the Twilight's Hammer has been quite a handful for the soldiers of the Horde and Alliance. Oh well, might as well start packing.”
At that point she felt a sensation, something that prickled her senses attuned to Shadow Magic. It came from the north, and was very powerful. “That was interesting, and new.” she said as she turned north, “But also ominous at the same time. It might be worth investigating.”
A large tremor knocked her off her hooves, she hit the ground hard, spraining her left ankle. “Curse these fools!” She summoned a Shadowfiend, “Gather my belongings, hurry! I must get out of here before the Alliance and Horde trap, or otherwise bury, me here.” The Shadowfiend scurried off and collected whatever was left of Emizuna'z vials, her books, notes and other belongings. Emizuna herself crawled to her staff, leaning against a stalagmite, got up, and limped to her table just as she Shadowfiend vanished.
She grabbed her bag and started moving towards her hidden entrance when a Twilight Hammer Cultist stumbled inside, looking aghast. Emizuna grunted, “Oh great! More delays. Out of my way, she-Orc.” and she whacked the Cultist in the head, leaving her to fall unconsciously to the floor. “Cultists are apparently useless. Makes one wonder why they even exist.” As she exited her cove, she could see boedies littered everywhere, from each faction there was an abundance. This might just be the Twilight Hammer's last stand. The Depths are a dead-end. She chuckled, Pun not intended.
The moment Emizuna stepped outside she was greeted by sunlight, not so strong as to blind someone when coming from complete darkness, but light enough to blur vision for a short while. The highlands did not get their name for nothing, and judging from the shadows it was noon.
“Get back, ya bugger!” Emizuna heard a Dwarf shout.
“No, you get back!” an Orc shouted back.
“All ye dirty Horde mongrels want is war! Don't think we've forgiven ya fer Southshore!”
Southshore? Emizuna thought, Has that quaint little village at last fallen to the Horde? A shame. I quite liked it there.
“That was not our doing. Blame rattlebone and his kin here.” Emizuna saw clear enough that a hapless Forsaken soldier was pushed forward.
“You filthy Greenskin! When Lady Sylv-” the Forsaken was abruptly shot.
“Damn rotters, they should never have come back!” the Orc spat on the Forsaken's corpse.
“Gulfer, I truly do not believe that was wise. If Garrosh hears of this, he'll-” a Tauren spoke, clearly the voice of reason within the group, before being cut off by Gulfer.
“Shut up, steak! Garrosh is the Warchief now, and he ordered this. This Forsaken, Ulfern, used the Plague on these cultists. Not that they didn't deserve it, but it is forbidden by our Warchief's law.”
“How are you so sure he-”
“I was at the Wrathgate. I saw what happens to the living when they get into contact with it. My brother and sister died there.”
“I am sorry, captain. Still, I do believe Ulfern deserved fair trial. He could still be used for the good of the Horde.”
Gulfer laughed heartily, “I am the good of the Horde! Look at our enemies, how they stand frozen.” He pointed at the Alliance, “They fear u-”
Gulfer twitched as Emizuna made a crude gesture, as if gripping his throat. She turned her hand counter clockwise in a slow fashion, seeing the Orc drop to his nees, gasping for air and his face in pain. Silly, silly Orc. She thought, Remorselessnes deserves a remorseless reply.
The Horde forces stepped back in awe as they saw their captain twitch and turn, his face twisting from anger, to agony, to pain, to fear, untill it finally rested in that state. The Horde forces surrendered and dropped their weapons, some running off into the hills.
The Alliance cheered, “Victoreh, boys!” the Dwarven captain shouted, “But.. who did that?” Emizuna was in no way prepared to make a show of herself, so she tried to slip through the shadows.
“O'er there, sir!” a soldier yelled, “There's som'one in the shadows!”
Emizune swiftly turned, all eyes fixed on her. She could feel their gazes burning into her, their judging looks.
“Ya ain't a Cultist, lass. What be ye?” the captain asked.
“I'm no foe, that's for sure. Yet an ally I am not either. I am on my own, and your fighting has driven me from many of my homes. And now you have driven me from the highlands all-together.” They did not need to know she was leaving for different reasons, but Emizuna liked rubbing such guilt into the faces of unwilling victims. “So, if you'll excuse me, I must go. I have granted you a victory over the Horde, haven't I?” the captain was speechless, she could see it.
She waved and walked, only to stumble and curse under her breath. “Yer hurt? How'd tha' happen?” the Dwarf asked. Emizuna cussed again, And now he's gone all soft on you. How delightfull. “Come wit´ us. We´ll patch ye up at Highbank. We've excelent medics!” She could profit from it. These soldiers, equiped as they are, would only take half a day's march towards their fort. She nodded. “Great! Do ye have a name, miss?”
“Emi”, she told the captain, and they were off.
Anima - Emizuna (Ch.3)
A new day, a new chapter!
Here we have Emizuna, an Exile amongst Exiles, so to speak. Want to know why, and what she's up to? Read, and enjoy!


“Are you reading again?” Selyria asked. “Is it that book about the Red Dragon Flight again?”
Lynn shook her head and laughed. “No, it is not. It's a book about Druidism; yes, I read those too.” She closed her book and stood up with a grace only Elves could accomplish. “Is there anything I could do for you, ma'am?”
Selyria shook her head. “No. I was merely curious as to what you were up to. Many of your fellow Druids here fear.. you still long for adventure, like you used to. And don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel old.”
“Are you referring to when I traveled through broken Outlands, and the frigid wastes of Northrend?” Lynn shrugged. “I'm not even sure myself. After witnessing what Fel Magic has led to; the continued deterioration of Outlands, the rise of the Undead, I don't know if I'm up for that anymore. Right now we have our hands full with Deathwing wreaking havoc all over Azeroth, and everyone's helping in their own way. Like us: Restoring the Plaguelands to their former glory back when it was all Lordaeron.” Lynn sighed, looking up into the sky, viewing corrupted birds. “And yet, we can not do anything for the wildlife, can we?”
Selyria placed a hand on Lynn's shoulder. “Whatever we do impacts the world around us. Right now it may all look bleak, unsavable, but in time all can be saved. Eons ago, Druids only knew how to bend roots and make flowers bloom faster, and look at what we can do now! That research you're doing, it's setting steps into motion that could help us learn new things, learn of new ways for us to help.”
Lynn looked at the Worgen with a questioning look on her face. “What do you mean?”
“Every Druid has theories, “ Selyria said, “And these Druids write them down. When said druids convey their ideas to one-another, these theories can develop or diminish. And thus we learn. Have you come up with any theories of late?”
Lynn shook her head. Nothing had to come to her, as of late. She knew what she wanted, and that was to cure the wildlife, but not how to cure it.
“No matter, “ Selyria said, ”Theories take time to develop. Come, we head east, to the Thondroril River. The woods there are still corrupt.”
“Let me just gather my things, and I'll see you there. Alright?”
“Alright. Don't take too long.” And Selyria was off.
It left Lynn to think while backing her belongings. It was almost half-a-day away from the Menders Stead to Thondroril, so she sadly did not have the luxury of taking it slow. While packing her bags, she found a book from back in the days when she was still an apprentice Druid under Danandran, a Druid of the Fang. How he scoffed and lecturer her about such books. “Dragons, demons and other such nonsense will not be abided under my supervision, young lady!” he always said. “You are a Druid, a mender, a shapeshifter, one with nature, not an empty-minded adventurer.”
Lynn chuckled. She could still feel the thump of Danandran's cane hitting her on the back of the head when she tried to sneak in some 'unabided' reading, during his lessons. He wanted to train her for Northrend, to aid the Cenarion Circle's expedition there; Prefferably to research Sholazar Basin's oddities and mystique flora and fauna.
He never managed to prepare her, as he had to leave early, which was mostly her fault, she thought. “If only I had been a better student.” she muttered under her breath, tears welling up in her eyes. “Then you might still be here. I still haven't mastered my Feral form, like you wanted me to. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry.” She wiped away her tears. She didn't want people to see her like this; she was stronger than this. I survived Azeroth, Outlands and Northrend. I am strong. She thought.
“Are ya leavin', Lynn?” Zen'kiki asked as he approached her, waving his long, slim arms as he walked. “I wish I could go wit ya! But I don' even 'ave propa aimin'. Adrine be wantin' me ta practice on da infected wildlife, but I don't want ta hurt dem.”
“I understand, Zen'kiki. You're good of heart, and don't you change.”
Zen'kiki saluted. “Ya got it, mon! I practice on spiders and Undead instead. Ah, da Scourge, I be meanin'!” Zen'kiki gave an awkward glance towards Damian Steel, the Undead Death Knight, at the Stead under orders of Koltira Deathweaver, to recruit any Horde forced for the battle of Andorhal. The Death Knight simply glared, and looked away.
“I know many Undead have trouble showing emotions, besides hate, anger and scorn, but this guy freaked me out the day he got here.” Lynn whispered to Zen'kiki, who only nodded in approval, afraid he might anger the Death Knight. “Ah, but I digress. I still have things to pack; who knows what sort of interestingly new flora I come across this region now that it's restored?”
“Ya always had a knack for makin' potions. Delicious and good for ya health, too!”
Lynn laughed. The Troll had become a great friend during her time here. He was a clutz at times, but a goodhearted and honest one, at that.
“Stay safe, and practice well, Zen'kiki. You'll do great!” And with that, Lynn was off. It was already starting to dusk by that time, and she paced, hoping to win a few hours of time. The eastern part of what was still called the Western Plaguelands was no pleasant place in the dark. Why there was no morning-expedition, she did not know. All around her the songs of evening-birds began to emerge, and the soft ticking of spider-legs hitting hard dirt. “Spiders are the worst.” she said to herself. “Creepy crawlies!” She jumped when an owl flew low, right in ront of her, releasing a small yelp. She hoped she did not attract any attention to herself.
Several hours later, when the sun was barely over the distant mountains of the Tirisfal Glades, she reached Gahrron's Withering. She knew she was close, but not in the clear yet. This was one of the few places still being haunted by the Scourge and their masters directly from Scholomance. So long as she did not yet make out Thondroril Bridge, she had to hurry.
She heard twigs snapping to her right. She froze, looked, and saw shadowy figures moving between the trees. One of them looked at her with red, glowing eyes; its twisted posture twitching uncontrollably, when it suddenly started moving towards her. Lynn grabbed for her staff. No! Where is it? She thought as she looked around, only to see it was out of her reach with the rest of her belongings. I've never fought without it. What am I to do?
Lynn looked around frantically; the only spells she knew were benevolent, and the harmfull spells she did know would be useless without that staff. Master, help me! The creature jumped out from the shadows, a Ghoul whom's face was split in the middle, the right side hanging loosely from small pieces of sinew, bones sticking out of places, and a frightening guttural roar was all Lynn could hear and see. The Ghoul leaped, Lynn braced herself, and then nothing happened.
“Lynn!” the voice was faded, but somehow familiar. She looked around, the world blurred, heart racing. “Lynn!” The voice called again. To her right she saw some four-legged creature with a mohawk, growling heavily, beating up the Ghoul that assaulted her before. She then felt a hand touching her shoulder. Adrenaline rushed through her, and she snapped.
“Don't you dare touch me!” She screamed as she jumped to her feet and felt a transformation. Her hands and feet transformed into claws, her skin grew soft patches of fur until it covered her entire body, and her long, pointy ears became smaller, but kept the pointyness. Her mouth twisted, protruded, and became a maw full of long, sharp teeth. She roared and pounced, pinning Selyria to the ground.
“Whoa, girl! Relax, now.” Selyria said, astonishment in her eyes. “Looks like you finally managed to get the hang of your Feral form, eh?”
Lynn looked at her paws. She growled. I can't speak in this form?
“You look shocked. Listen, I headed back towards the Menders stead because we need assistance. A large force of Scourge has been sighted in the distance by our arial scout, and it is heading this way. We have to hold the bridge, but we're not with enough people. You head there and I will take Terijaki, that Troll Druid who's maiming the Ghoul over there, to gather reïnforcements. With any luck, we should make it in time.”
Lynn transformed back into her Night Elven form. “But- what- how?” She asked startled. “A large force of Scourge? Is this a new plague?”
Selyria shook her head as she stood up, brushing off the dust from her breaches. “We don't know. Whatever it is, or can possibly be, it's bad. Go, Terijaki and I will be fine. You're a mender, a manipulator of nature. They need you to help bolster defences and heal the injured if need be. You can buy time, should we not make it in time. Now go!”
Lynn could do nothing other than nod, pick up her belongings, and run as swift as she could. She thought back on events of Northrend. The Wrath Gate primarily. “No. Not again! No more death, no more suffering!” She yelled as she ran. It did not take her very long to reach Thondroril, but as she did, she could see them.
The Scourge was near, just barely on the horizon. Serylia would not make it back in time.
Anima - Lynn (Ch.2)
The story continues, introducing a new character: Lynn. Get familiar with her in this chapter.

Happy reading!


“Eat, my pets. You must grow strong!” Vysto said to his hounds, throwing fresh limbs into their cages. The hounds ravaged their dinner with wild abandon, as if they hadn't eaten in days. It was something Vysto loved to watch on slow, dull days. “If it wasn't for you, my sweets, I would probably convert back to the Light.” Vysto laughed heartily at that remark. “Oh! I kill myself, sometimes.”
“Massster..” a voice from the shadows spoke. “I have returned with newsss..”
“Speak then, Klax. Endulge me.” Vysto replied calmly.
“The tunnel hasss been breached.”
“Again?!” Vysto erupted into such anger, that his hounds stopped eating and retreated into the corners furthest away from their master. “How hard can it be for you Nerubians, master tunnel-diggers, to hold a small, narrow pass through the western cliffs?”
“My apologiesss massster.. The Argent Dawn and adventurersss are no easssy.. foesss..”
Vysto shrugged. “Whatever am I to do with you, Klax? The Lich King, the Nether hold his.. well, he had no soul, did he? In any case, the Lich King put you under my command to aid me into holding the Plaguewood. That was years ago, and each year you fail me at least once a week. Be glad I am a patient man, Klax, otherwise you would have been replaced a multitude of times.”
“Patient hardly dessscribesss your.. persssonality, massster.” Klax humbly said, taking a bow in the process.
“Don't think that such compliments humble me, creature. Be off, and do a better job this time. For all I care you collapse the entirety of the tunnel.”
“But, massster.. The essscape route?”
Vysto shrugged. “We still have the path through the southern mountains, if anything happens. Besides, it'd be a tactical flaw and victory. The Argents are no longer able to get reinforcements through that tunnel, allowing us te re-capture Terrordale and the Plaguewood Tower. Yes, I rather like that idea. Go forth and make it happen.” Klax bowed and left, leaving Vysto to continue the feeding of his hounds. “You'll do a much better job than that silly spider, won't you?” The hounds barked, the sound they made guttural and very far from an actual bark, capturing Vysto in a trance, beholding his beauties.
The rattle of bones snapped Vysto back to Azeroth. “Who goes there?”
A strange, half-warped, chilling and emotionless voice answered in the accent of a Troll. “I be Zab'in Frostclaw. One o' da few Death Knight loyal to da true scourge, and not de usurpa' on da trone.”
“A Death Knight, you say? Interesting. Take off your helmet so that I may judge you.” Vysto replied, his curiosity taking the best of him. But the Death Knight would not comply. “Ser Death Knight, I asked you to take off your helm. You are in the presence of the Lord of the Plaguewoods, Vysto Oakbeard.”
The Death Knight chuckled, or whatever dark-form of laughter it was. “'Oakbeard'? Dat be no Human name, mon! Ya be askin' me ta show ma true face, an' here ya be, hidin' yer own.”
“I have nothing to hide.” Vysto said in a calm manner, stepping closer to Zab'in. “I was found by Dwarves when I was an infant. They raised me, adopted me, and gave me quite  a pleasant life.” Vysto sighed. Somewhere he missed his parents; but those were feelings for weak mortals. Something he was no longer. “I left for an adventure when I was eighteen cycles old, happening upon the Argent Dawn and joining their Priesthood.”  Vysto started pacing the chamber, Zab'in's eyes fixed on him. “And then the Lich King's armies invaded. You know, the 'Knights of the Ebon Hold' and their forces.”
Zab'in scoffed. “Dey be traitors! Dey 'elped in da demise of our King!”
“So they did. I was nearly killed in that fight, you know. Were you there? Quite a frightening experience to behold. Undead looming over you, ready to take your life, your soul.” Vysto raised his hands in the air, mimicing a prayer. “And then came mighty, holy, and strong Tirion to save the day! And my life with it.” Vysto's hands came down slowly, and he clenched them into fists, his fingernails digging into his flesh, small droplets of blood falling to the floor. His tone turned to that of rage, his face clearly showing anger and resentment. “And that is when I lost all hope in the Light.” Vysto then looked up, smiled broadly and turned to the Death Knight. “And now I'm here! Ruling over this magical forest, awaiting the return of the True Scourge. And what's your story?”
“I be sent 'ere by Baroness Mepfiste, ta take over ya place. She 'as won fair fights against da strongest remainin' leaders of da True Scourge and taken command afta' many months of bein' a leaderless faction.”
Vysto's face flushed. “T-take over?! Preposterous! And 'strongest amongst..'? Rediculous! If that were true, I'd be there! The Lich King himself made me ruler of these lands!”
Zab'in drew his sword. “Da lady also be wantin a pure Scourge. No livin', only Undead!” He lunged towards Vysto, whom only barely managed to sidestep the slash of the Death Knight's weapon. “Ya can not escape me, mon!”
“Oh, you just watch!” Vysto exclaimed, taking on a serious posture. He made a complicated hand gesture, and became a shade. “You see, when I abandoned the Light I embraced the Shadow. But not the kind the Forsaken Shadow Priests maintain. No, I maintain a higher form of this power!” Vysto shot a volley of Shadow Bolts at Zab'in, simply by flicking his fingers. The Troll received the full brunt, not even getting enough time to cast Magic Barrier.
“You be a wicked person, mon! But ya still only human!” Zab'in lunged once more, but this time slashed in a wide arc, rather than an overhead one, slashing Vysto's left arm, leaving a deep wound.
“That hurt, you know! But no matter, 't is but a scratch! All I have to do is-” a sudden surge of pain shot through Vysto's arm. Looking at it, the wound was festering, infecting. “No.” Vysto said, fear visible in his expression. “A new plague?”
Zab'in laughed. “An' ya be infected! Ya will cease ta exist! No undeath for ya!”
“Think again.” Vysto said as he prepared a spell and quickly cast it just above the infected part of his arm, severing it, the cut-off piece still being infected further as it fell onto the ground with a thump. “I.. I am not just.. any sort of.. Shadow Priest..” he said with a rasping voice, biting back the pain. “I am half-undead, half-mortal.. I still have a soul, though weakened, but I can also tap.. into the powers of the Undead!” Vysto drew a magic-circle in the sky, and applied it to his arm.
“And what good be dat doin'? Ya cut off ya own arm!” Zab'in said with smugness.
“Oh.. but that is where you, my friend.. are wrong. Just wait.. and watch..” No sooner had Vysto said those words when he collapsed on his knees, a terrible pain coursing through his body. From his wound, where once his arm was, his flesh was bubbling, protruding and growing.
“What manner of powa' be dis?!” Zab'in exclaimed in wonder.
But Vysto was unable to answer, the pain being too much. New bone formed, and around it muscle and flesh, until he once more had a full arm and a functioning hand.
“And that.. my dear Knight.. is the extent of my power. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a property to defend.” Vysto turned his back on Zab'in and walked towards the exit of the Slaughterhouse when a Ghoul appeared in the opening. And another, until a large group barged Vysto's way, who in turn let out a chuckle. “My dear Knight, have you not learned anything?” he made a 'tsk' sound, “And these regalia? Why do you think I don this hood, fanged-skull mask, and ice-blue with black robe? Surely that should give away I am no simple cultist. But as you wish. Watch as your precious Ghouls </i>evaporate</i>!” Vysto flung his restored arm into the air, made a few gestures, and pointed at one of the Ghouls, marking his target. This Ghoul started writhing in pain, screaming and dropping to the floor, evaporating into a dark-purple mist slowly and painfully, infecting the Ghouls around it. In mere seconds the halls of the Slaughterhouse were filled with the screams of pained Ghouls, waiting to be evaporated, and all Zab'in could do was watch in anger.
“Ya be makin' a great prize for da Baroness! Face me, mon!” Zab'in shouted as he took an offensive stance.
“Oh fine. You want to play? Come play.” A battle erupted. Sword clashed against shadowy-barrier and shadow-spells agains magic-barriers. The two were evenly matched; Releasing a volley of Shadow Bolts, Vysto quickly turned to Shadow Words for his offence, and while Zab'in shrugged off the Bolts with his Barrier, the Shadow Words clung to him, sickening and damaging him.
Zab'in in turn threw Frost spells, Blood Spells and quick lunges of the blade, freezing Vysto's right hand, making his head pound and near-unable to dodge blows. Vysto quickly unfroze his arm by holding it close to a torch, and went back into the offensive.
“Enough playing!” Vysto suddenly erupted with energy, staggering Zab'in. “You are a worthy adversary. If not for your weakness.”
“Weakness?” Zab'in asked, wondering what Vysto meant. “Wat weakness?”
Vysto let out a chuckle. “This.” And he cast Shackle Undead, trapping Zab'in in place. “To think that some of these Light spells would come in handy. I think I have a few more.” Vysto cast the few Light spells he still knew, and severly hurt Zab'in, taking complete pleasure in the Trolls obvious pain, until Zab'in was close to death. “There, that should do it.” And Vysto released Zab'in, walked towards the Troll and groped him by the seams of his cloak. “I leave you alive.. for as much as can be said about you, so you can be an example, and a warning, to your 'Baroness'. Tell her she can have the Plaguewoods, and those god-forsaken Argent Dawn fools, but never let her forget that I will come for her, slowly take whatever life she has, in the most painful of ways, and take her place. Let her wallow in this 'victory', but let her know the war only just started.”
Zab'in groaned as Vysto dropped him to the floor, and let out a chuckle. “Ya be more foolish dan I thought, mon. She will skin you alive, raise you from the dead, and do it all over again! She show no mercy, like she will show me no mercy.”
Vysto shrugged and ignored what Zab'in said to him, and proceeded to go outside. It was no better here. His units were battling those of Zab'in, with some unfortunate Argent Dawn scouts caught in the middle. He saw Klax fighting off a small unit of Ghouls by himself, and walked towards him. “Klax, gather some of your men and meet me at the Southern-Pass. We're getting out of here. I'll find Ser Mercy, however unfitting his name for a walking corpse, and we'll meet you there.”
“M-my lord..? Do we not ssstay and fight..?” Klax asked astounded as he punctured the skull of a charging Ghoul.
“Oh, no! It has been made clear that this enemy is far too strong, and too numerous for us to overcome in these small numbers. Now get to it! Stay safe.” Vysto was about to walk away, when he turned around and asked, “Klax? How did these foes get in the woods?”
“Through.. through the tunnel, massster..”
“Marvelous. I should have ordered you to seal the tunnel earlyer. Oh well, nothing we can do about it now!” And with those words Vysto ran off, in search of Ser Mercy. He proved hard to find in the conflict, and all the skeletons nearly looked alike. “I should have given him proper leader-regalia, or anything to set him apart from his men.”
“MasterVysto,whatbringsyouhere?” a hasty, clacking voice asked.
“Ah, Ser Mercy. I forgot you have never heard of spacing between words.” Vysto said in a snarky way, turning towards his lieutenant.
“No matter, Ser. Gather your men and meet me at the Southern Pass. I will explain everything there. Klax is already on the move.”
“Asyouwish,myliege!”, Ser Mercy saluted and scurried off.
“Skeletons. Very loyal, but when it comes to comprehensiveness, they're almost as thick as their own skull. Now to head for the pass” On his way to the Southern Pass, Vysto flung spells back and forth, aiding his units,which joined him, and to make his trip to the Southern Pass easyer.
“Massster! You made it!” Klax said excited.
“Would you expect otherwise?” Vysto said with a light chuckle. “Now, look back one more time, everyone. It will not be the last time you see the Woods, for we will return. Stronger, more numerous, and most of all overwhelming!”
Anima - Vysto (Ch.1)
A new series, specially for DA, starring people from my Warcraft Guild, Anima, on Aerie-Peak EU. This first chapter stars our Guild Leader Vysto, and observes his powers, and delves a bit in how he got them.
The series will be written GoT style: Each character gets a full chapter, and the chapters will eventually flow into eachother.

Happy reading!
I know it's been a while since last I've posted something (more than a month), but I'm still around; just very pre-occupied.
-The progress on the Android game I'm developing is going smoothly. It's mainly tweaking, updating and refurbishing that needs going on.
-Writing fanfiction is still a thing: You'll find a small excerpt from a new piece I'm writing below this post.
-My kids are a year old now (since yesterday, the 13th of January)
-I have a wedding in four months (mahgawd!)
-I'm still writing my novel
-Youtube is taking up time
-Spending more and more time with the family.

And that's just the short version, as I'm too lazy to go into any details.

Don't worry, I'll soon have something new to post!

"Indonai was indecisive as to what role she would fill as an Adventurer of the Alliance. A healing role was what she wanted; to aid the injured and defenceless. The light did not call to her, nor did nature speak to her, so Priest and Druid were out of order. Her sisters were more fortunate in that regard: Liliyanam her younger sister, showed Druidical prowess from an early age; and Dorinae, her older sister, was already part of the Sisters of Elune for quite some time.Liliyana was not yet of age to train, so she practiced on her own on a daily basis, whereas Dorinae was at a stagnant stage of her Priesthood; stuck in Darnassus, unable to enter the field and grow further. In some regard Indonai was quite happy not having the Light call to her. Just as she was about to give up, the Pandaren joined the Alliance, showing off their skills as Monks. Indonai made up her mind then and went into apprenticehood under Laoxi, a brawly Pandaren with a heart of gold."
  • Mood: Cheerful
  • Listening to: Spotify
  • Reading: Game of Thrones , Book 2
  • Watching: Too much at once @_@
  • Playing: Golden Sun, Metro 2033, AC1, WoW, SWTOR
  • Drinking: Orange soda


Zubaja's Profile Picture
Steven Nolles
'Twas the year 1990, on the 22nd day of November, when a wee lad was born. That wee lad, 'twas I.
"Lo and behold!" Many a person would exclaim, for 'twas a sight to behold. A silent baby, narry a peep, but alive and well, for my stink made my parents weep.
Youth be a cruel mistress as she tortured me on every step, I was autistic I was, narry a friend I made 'cause of it up until highschool, for then I got to go into IT.
Highschool was great and a soothing experience, for I could be myself and lose myself in the fantasies that roamed my great mind. I would program day and night, practise my skill for a complete mastery, when a woman came into my life, beautiful and a sight to behold.
Then came college, a worthy experience, which I narry failed with the chance of succes as thick as a newborn-baby's hair. The latter, speaking of, became my present. Two wee sucklings, a boy and a lass, now bring joy to my life as did my girlfriend's now enlarged.. buttocks.

Work became a reality and I was dragged into the standard drag of the working man; A 9 to 5 job is now my fate, as I silently sit here and wait.
The wee ones grow and become strong, as dad works hard to ensure a great future as was his own.

Sacrifice; You don't give something up, you merely add an obligation because you chose to. And narry does a man choose to sacrifice something if it's all for naught.

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VFreie Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2015
Hi, and welcome to :iconthewrittenrevolution: theWrittenRevolution!
There are lots of things you can get involved in:

Bullet; Red we post monthly writing prompts (that include prizes, and a chat event during the month to help people with their pieces),

Bullet; Black publishing opportunities from other sites (whenever we come across one!),

Bullet; White we have a monthly feature that includes a deserving member, two of the best critiques we've seen during the month, and two helpful writing resources,

Bullet; Red a monthly affiliates feature of two Literature groups,

Bullet; Black and a biweekly-ish article in which one of our admins gives an in-depth critique to one of our members' work that hasn't received much feedback.

We'll soon be reviving our chatroom with weekly activities, so stay tuned for that too. :D (Big Grin)

We also have Facebook and Twitter accounts. On our profile page you will find links to the latest of all the activities I listed up here and to our social networks that will help you keep updated, so feel free to look around and ask if you have any questions, we're here to help!

Welcome to the revolution. I salute you!
kvdolan Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday!! Party Have your cake and eat it too
Zubaja Featured By Owner Nov 24, 2014
Thank you!
UriahGallery Featured By Owner Nov 16, 2014  Professional Photographer
Thank you for the :llama:!

-Jonathan Uriah Denney
Nature and Wildlife Photographer
Website  - Facebook 
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