64 Recent Deviations
Desperate Measures Day of the Dead
Aranya left the ongoing spectacles at the Circle of Wills and made her way through the Underbelly to the Cantrips and Crows. The Innkeeper nodded his head once to the syndicate boss in respect as she walked through the open tavern to the boarding side of the shady below-city inn. She found Halenvar sitting on a hammock in one of the rooms, his shield and sword on the floor beneath it, staring at the floor. Aranya broke the silence first, but in a voice that was a soft, gentle, and full of concern. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” The warrior lifted his eyes to look at her. “Like it did with me, but not so fast, not accelerated.”
Aranya had paid the price for her reckless way of pursuing and retaliating against Tezzakel the dreadlord, when she followed him into the Nether and glutted on his power to ensure her triumph over him… A triumph that was not to be, as she was rescued from the Nether before she could finish off the
Crash and BurnThe arcanist and the valarjar captain lay together in their crystalline quarters on the Vindicaar. The room was plush, comfortable, it pulled off an alien extravagance even in its functionality for war that only the draenei could manage, it seemed. It offered little comfort for the two elves’ tumultuous thoughts, however.
The devoted minions of N’Zoth had been thwarted, with the help of their friends and allies, and the great storm quelled. Several commanders of the Burning Legion that the two of them had been tracking and hunting had been slain - even a most particularly elusive one - and the Army of the Light gave them lightforged weapons in honor. There were artifacts and treasures aplenty on Argus, though they had to discuss between them which would be best put in the hands of the Scions for study (after the arcanist had her turn with them) and which would be given to Syndicate for fencing or keeping as assets.
But each victory still seemed small in the face of wh
The Razor Edge of VulnerableDeep in the misty Helmouth, on a jutting rock in the shallows, three elves took an unusual respite that seemed to fly in the face of the deathly surroundings about them.
Aranya chuckled as Nick tried to keep their campfire lit, but the unnatural mists stifled the fire too well. She reached for a vial of sparkling dust in a pouch on her belt, uncorked it and poured a small amount into her hand. With a quick puff of breath, the shimmering particles blew over the faltering embers, sparking them to life again, in ley-touched colors.
The enchanted flame burned bright and clear, out of place where everything else seemed so easily choked by the Hel-mists. Aranya blinked her smoldering green eyes rather lazily, and smiled.
To her left, Halenvar also smiled. “It’s good to be back in Stormheim,” he said.
Nick mumbled something about feeling the need for a cigar, before he looked around and shrugged. “I am sure it is wonderful when the dead are not roaming around trying to
In the Nether, Returned, and Breaking DownConsolidated from three parts into a single submission.
IN THE NETHER
Claws slashed and sword flashed.
Dreadlord and blood elf swiped at each other, in a moment where the surroundings felt solid. Then the moment changed, and gravity and spatial definition all blurred together, twisting into formlessness.
Twisting. Ever-twisting. Nothing constant in this plane of existence.
It was the plane that threaded and intersected all other planes, and yet could not even be properly called a plane itself at all. The Twisting Nether.
“Rather bold swings, for a girl who just collapsed to the floor,” Tezzakel taunted Aranya. He lunged, his claws raking at her sleeve before she blinked out of reach. The torn robe revealed her bare arm, and the red mana inked under her skin, glowing bright enough to blaze. The elf was drawing reserve power from what the Kabal had given her. “Still full of surprises, I see,” the demon growled. “But how
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