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((Note: this is an incomplete post until Rhudran has made his response. final post will be after his first response. other players are more than welcome to react to this thread in any way, but only Modas members/those that Dree'jin trusts will be seeing what happpens))

GLORIOUS GLORIOUS GLORIOUS!

Ohhh, Nagas rakkan gulamir Modas venn daz daz parn toravor zennrakkan!

After so long, I have him. I have Rhudran. I have the fool that DARED to stand up to me! And now, now he will feel more agony than he thought possible... yes, I know a few tricks of my own. A consecrated scepter, a libram, a nice blessed banner and some chains and searing items, we have what we need for Rhudran's little... evening.

((The rest of this post is told from the Point of View of one of Mialera's demons, Tarpit, so that I can better describe what is happening))

I watched as Goddess started her torture for the dwarf; she chained his limbs onto a small table and took out two small metal bars, each glowing white hot with fire. Dragging them along the dwarf's arms and sides elicited some reaction from him, but he seemed to be rather adamant in not giving Goddess a good voice to hear screaming. I'll need to record volumes at a better time.

Now she's bringing out her consecrated scepter; a little gift she stole from the Argent Dawn, it's a torch burning with holy fire. Silently she increased the heat and strength of the flames, pressing the torch down onto the dwarf's neck in an attempt to force a cry of pain from him. Goddess is at least inventive.

The consecrated banner she used to blight the ground with corrupt light, focused more on pain than healing. The lines of light that cut through under the table would stab at his back and draw blood. Goddess is inventive indeed; from what I can tell, she intends to use the offensive and painful side of Light Magic to simulate agony within him. Using this, she intends to drive him mad and make him believe that the Light is something to avoid. Clever clever, goddess...

Using the torch and the banner, along with a dagger blessed by the Argent Crusade, she intermingles burning and cutting at the dwarf's flesh, using her own dark magic to make sure he doesn't bleed all over the table. Goddess was never a blood person; she adores souls too much and finds blood "tasteless". Odd woman. Though watching her dance the blade along his flesh makes me so proud, how she's improved over her time; to think she was once an acolyte... but I'm wandering off topic. Goddess has requested I document this event, just like any other, and thus I will. Her word is law.

When he starts to lose conciousness, she gives him a bit of a breather by... why, feeding him the life of fallen soldiers! Shadow mending, life transferance and the like... inventive, Goddess, give him no solace, no comfort from the Light! I wonder how long he'll last...

The world swirled. The elements' panicked whispers could not reach him, crawling beyond the reaches of perception. The events of past replay along the surface skin of the unconscious.

The elements all but demanded that the dwarf stay with them, in his small apartment in Ironforge. They were, as always, vague in their reasoning, but not feelings. Calming them had made his meditation session run long, made him late for the Clinic.

He bustled over to the Mystic Ward, and was glad to see that Mira had already set up the clinic, complete with holy guards at its entrance. He greeted them...and then things took a sharp turn.

The Maggot Lord launched himself from his mount, hurtling into his back, and knocking him into a wall. Reacting as fast as he could, Rhudran summoned the elements and the Light to his aid, but the Horde war party was great, and the Clinic was never prepared for such an assault. His paladin compatriots briefly revived him, but then the memories faded to swirling blackness. What has become of him? Whe-

The faint sizzling of humidity wafting over red hot metal was too subtle a warning for the searing pain dragged along his arms.

Instantly, Rhudran understood the answer to the question he did not manage to ask himself. He must have been taken by that war party, and now he was being tortured. To what end, he could not fathom, for soul entrapment was not nearly so painful!

Whatever it may be, I shall not give them the pleasure! Rhudran decided, forcing his eyes to remain tightly closed, and suppressed a cry of pain into a low, strained moan as scorching metal was dragged down his bare sides.

There is darkness and pain as he pants after the metal is put away. The pain makes his ears sing, and mind swirl as the memories of the pain in others rushes back to the war in the Plaguelands, losing so many to the Plague or the ravenous bites of the undead.

The shame, the guilt torments and bites harder than any glowing rod of torture, and his hands fist up past the chained bracers that restrain him, and raw energy pools in his core to match the raging emotions.

Then, a light. The consecrated torch cast a beacon through Rhudran's eyelids, but the red tinges could not be mistaken.

Soon, the searing flames of Light burned away facial hair and the skin of his neck was blackened, scarred by the blinding power of the relic. Then, the corrupted Holy power and the Holy blade elicited the grinding of teeth, sounding like stone grinding upon stone, until the pain nearly claims his consciousness.

((EDIT: Mialera, talk to me before you reply please!))

Rhudran was missing. The messages had gone out and one had already replied. Raoul wasn't the man she was seeking, for so he said. but he had given Gentyl information on where to look. Her ghosts were looking even now. It wouldn't be long.

((This is still told from the perspective of Mialera's imp, Tarpit))

Goddess is FURIOUS!

She was doing so well, especially when he was starting to fall asleep. He was groaning and holding back his screams, oh she was expecting such a torrent of agony! But the dwarf pulled a daring and rather powerful move on her, one not even I was prepared for; he took the life she was giving him to keep him alive, and THRUST it back upon her, infusing that damnable holy magic into it, sending her flying! Blood spattered everywhere, oh Sywena would have been thrilled! And then, Goddess stood back up; her robes torn open and scarred flesh over her left arm and stomach, slowly sealing up as the souls she devoured fed their life to her. Of course, some died in the process, their screams filling the chambers, but that's alright; Goddess loves the screams. But this time, she was angry, so so angry... Her eyes flicked to their original green and black hue from before she took possession of this body... I miss her old form; it was so much more imposing. Ah, but I am off topic, as always! Terrible terrible scribework, I must say!

She strode up to the table and looked down at the dwarf, watching as he bled; evidently his spell caused quite a powerful backlash, causing his own wounds to surface, though unfortunately much less severe than my Goddess'. She was going to stab, of course, when she stopped, and titled her head. Why was she doing that? What was she-

"TARPIT!"

GAH! Y-yes Goddess? How can this humble servant appease you?

"Bring me the Nightmare Orb. Now."

The Nightmare Orb, Goddess? But what will that do to-

"I SAID NOW!"

Well... as they say, you can get farther with a kind word and a blast of fel flame, than you can with just a kind word. I retrieved the orb as requested; it was an odd object, filled with the essence of the Emerald Nightmare, stolen from the souls of creatures associated with it. Or it might have been souls from the Nightmare, Goddess never really elaborated that point to me. I wonder what she was doing...

((Point of View now shifts to Mialera))

He was going to pay dearly, this dwarf... if he refuses to submit to the fear of Light Magic, then I will insinuate doubt for it. And that will be very easy... Dear sweet sister, how you always manage to help me without realizing it.

I took the memories of my sister, now undead thanks to my ignorance, and revealed to the dwarf the image of the damned wielding the light: still a devout servant, she wielded it against her fellow Alliance warriors when she pretended to be a "warrior" of the Horde. I'm amazed they even let her live. Leaving these memories with him, I twisted the essence of their being, allowing the Nightmare to flow through...

The image of a decomposing, dying woman, wielding the Light against the living in a desperate attempt to keep herself alive, her own selfish goals aloft and empowered. Of course, the nightmares were figments of my own imagination mixed in with my memories, but he need not know that... once the nightmare is ingrained within him, I let it meld with his own thoughts.

Now whose memories belong to who? Why, he may never know! Ahahahaaaaaaaa, I -love- my power! How I love causing Rakkan and Nagas to my foes, to hear them writhe in Parn while I toy with their thoughts. Such lovely screams they make...

And now to begin the runes! His flesh is already burnt, so I have a perfect canvas. Lets see... we'll do three; back, left arm and right leg!

To the back I draw a crisscrossing set of three lines, with an eye in the center of it all, and let the edges of the lines curl upward just slightly, as if reaching to pry the eye and keep it open; this will cause the nightmares to manifest be it day or night, rest or wakefulness, and our little dwarf will have to consider whether to repress or allow them... not that he can't do the former even if he wished so!

Now along his left arm we draw two spirals leading down to his wrist, ending in two holy crosses of the Presidium, turned to be more of an odd X than an actual cross; now this will force him to observe the Light from the nightmare's perspective, that it is not holy and will cause doubt. Think of it like it's his subconcious (or conscience) telling him to reconsider a point.

And at his right leg we draw an open maw reaching for his knee and encompassing the limb in rows and rows of teeth, the shape of a predator going in for the kill. Now this will be the fun part; this will trigger the dwarf's want to fight back against these thoughts, but fighting them will cause usage of the light, causing this limb to briefly stab at all the little nerves it touches, sending severe pain throughout his body from the ground up.

These are all, of course, carved into his flesh using the corrupted holy dagger, and then...

Nagas thoraman parn daz rakkan rakir, gulamir te mishun ok sholis revos, zennrakkan parn rakir!

There... now that the runes are infused with that ritual, they'll be very hard to remove safely; he'll be screaming for WEEKS! Ohhhh, I can't wait!

But now to return him. After all, that was the point of all this!

Orenaku, come! We have a package to deliver... and speaking of that!

While waiting for my drake, I suppose I should prepare Rhudran for his return! Taking the skin of a cleric I recently slew I gently wrapped it around our unconcious friend, leaving the head hanging off to the side. Then I wrapped a beautiful felcloth bow around his head. Now, a note... Aha! Tarpit, a pen!

"Yes Goddess!"

Worthless imp... here we are.

What to write... aha, here;

"To the Pia Presidium and its allies

I've come bearing gifts! It walks, it talks, it refutes the light and fears you all! It sings, it dances, it prances, it lances, it screams, it leans, it bleeds, it feeds!

Feast your eyes upon this miraculous wonder of torture and ritualistic flaying! I call it 'Rhudran'! My gift to you; enjoy him while he's alive!

Have a lovely day! Nagas and Rakkan consume your souls.

Mialera Darkweaver, the Queen of Souls"

Perfect! Ah, Orenaku...

I mount the soul fed nether drake, petting it lovingly as he carries the unconcious gift in his talons. We land just a short walk away from Hearthglen, and I call out to them in demonic;

"Venn Daz Rakkan Parn Rakir!"

Loosely translating into "Don't try fixing pain's work!" Or something to that effect. I really didn't care, I was much too excited!

As I flew off back to Durotar, I realized something; I didn't devour ONE soul during this torture... well, no new ones anyway. That needs to change.

Hmmmm... there was that human girl that Orenaku clipped. I wonder... another time, perhaps.

Rakkan Rakkan Zennrakkan!