World of Warcraft®

I hate losing, venn daz rakkan...

She's been hiding in Stormwind. Much as I enjoy tearing souls, even I cannot outwardly assault a city. Too loud, no no much too loud. So I have to shift targets.

There is no doubt that one of those bastards from Homeland told her of the issue... even if they didn't, well anything that hurts Poni makes me shiver in delight! So I will need a target. One at a time, yes one at a time.

And first will be that insufferable Son of Rukh!

More of a nuisance than an actual enemy, this Drakehide has made his presence known with his bloody yells and endless anger and pandering about what he isn't. Well, who am I to talk of the latter? How many bodies, I wonder, have I left behind... mmm, besides the point.

Yes, Drakehide, Son of Rukh... he at least has some strength. Perhaps he will be a worthy soul to devour. But I won't deal with him myself just yet... it'd be a shame if he knew my cover. No, I will bring something to test him, an arms master, a master of the battle axe...

JHUUGHUN!

I watch as the burly felguard steps forth, twirling his axe once, twice before slamming it into the ground, kneeling in submission as he does so. He knows his place, and his skill is very admirable. Yes, he will be a good warning to Drakehide.

Jhuughun, go. Cut him.

As he leaves I can only think of one lovely, perfect thought...

One more soul for the kingdom. Revos Karkun Ticharamir.

((...YAY! xD I greatly look forward to this.))

Drakehide took a deep breath, resting on a mesa overlooking Orgrimmar. Stitches, his bronze drake, was nearby, deep in slumber. The warrior frowned, crossed his arms, and watched as the Horde city began to move, and wake as the sun began to climb up over the horizon. He could hear the cries of small birds and the chirping of insects, mixing with the rising sound of hammers, machines, and metal. Simple moments, like these, were what he had missed.

Keedriel and Fearow had just liberated Stitches from old Stratholme, last night. Drakehide owed them both his life, many times over. And now...Drakehide, too, was free from his misadventure in the timeways. A lesson had been learned: there were powers in this world that were beyond his control, powers that no being should ever aim to trifle with. He'd gone into the Caverns of Time to change the world, and he had failed. But...at least...he had changed himself. A little.

It had cost him fifty-five years. It had cost him his eye. But...the warrior had a second chance, now, and an opportunity to do things right. He had a chance to make sure that the future he had experienced did not repeat itself, here. He had a chance to be a better warrior, and a better elf.

He was not foolish enough, however, to think that what came next would be easy. Something was on its way. Something dark. Something foul.

Drakehide had made enemies, along his journey, and even before his journey. There was a nagging doubt in the back of his head, like he had left a light on somewhere and forgotten it...like he had done something grievous before his adventure into the timeways, and then completely forgotten about it. Fifty-five years was a long time to remember every individual person you'd offended, in life.

He'd done something, he was sure of it. Angered someone. Someone dangerous. Someone who would probably want revenge.

Whoever it was, the warrior intended to take them out - loading them full of steel, and obsidium bolts - before they got him first. He took his bolt gun from where it rested on his back, tore open a pouch of obsidium bolts with his teeth, and loaded the small metal pieces into the weapon. He checked his ammo belt, confirming with a smirk that he still had a good sixty obsidium rounds and four saronite grenades ready.

Whatever this next battle would be...he had an ill feeling that it was not to be about glory, at all.

This was about survival now.

Drakehide slapped the side of his head firmly, for about the ninth time since his confrontation with the Felguard. He slapped it again, then again, then again, with a little more force each time. Finally, his dimmed mechanical eye flickered back to life, and its field of vision returned. He'd spent all night flying Stitches up and down the coast of Durotar, looking for some sign of Aeshi. He had to make sure that wherever she was, right now, she was safe.

Truth be told, Drakehide wasn't even sure he'd gotten into a fight with a Felguard in the first place. Keedriel, Kagran, and Akira had made good points - it was entirely possible he'd just conjured up the encounter from Cactus Cider, and a whole lot of imagination. Kind of like that mountain that had leapt up from the ground, and attacked him during his flight through the Barrens. Wait...no, that had been real, it had just been stationary. And he'd been flying drunk.

The warrior sighed, troubled. It was rare that something frightened Keedriel. Keedriel was many things...a coward, he wasn't. If Keedriel was so afraid for Drakehide's safety, and Aeshi's, then...Drakehide could only imagine that whoever this Mialera was, this dark practitioner after him, she was trouble. The Felguard had been bad enough, just on its own - the battle had ended in a stalemate, and it had taken everything that Drakehide had. Every trick, every obsidium bolt, every saronite grenade.

He had to find Aeshi...and then he had to prepare. No more close-quarters fighting...it was too risky, and that Felguard had definitely known how to use that axe. Drakehide might not survive another such encounter.

No, this time, he was going to need better. Explosive rounds. Land mines. Sapper charges. Goblin missile launchers. Tasik shockers. Shield spikes. Weapon chains. An improved injector assembly. Modifications to his eye, for greater threat detection.

The Felguard, on his mechanical eye, had read somewhere between 8980 to 8990. Whoever this Mialera was...Drakehide had a bad feeling she'd break that magic 9000 barrier.

He was going to need a lot of bombs...and a LOT of Cactus Cider...

Wondrous... delectable... perfect...

Yes, Aeshi is the perfect way to strike him.

The fight was quick, and easy to slaughter, but I did not kill him... no he must understand that those who deny my perfect world must suffer. Thus, he will suffer.

Death for her? No...

Torture, perhaps... Poni's went beautifully...

Or... yes...

The children need a new general. A servant to me. A fighter for them. A leader. A defender. A paragon of the perfect world.

Aeshi Soulwail, Hand of the Goddess...

I like the sound of that.

Thoraman archimtiros revos mishun.