((First part: http://rp-haven.com/blog/celisa/light_dark_part_1 ))
I've had around 10 sessions with Aurora to increase my tendency to the light. I didn't remember walking into her lab for tonight's session. Before we began, she gave me tea and told me that we won't start it until I finish it. Despite the pain that I will feel, I was really interested to see how far I will get today.
My stress and anxiety right now was no where near as bad as it was when I started getting these sessions-I was a lot more calm; But I still had to be shackled. Aurora put the highest holy power setting on her wand, which was on a scale of 1 to 10- and put it onto my forehead.
I am not too sure how this whole idea came up, it might of been when some elves were staring at me like I was a monster or a murderer because of the killings going on. The killings were supposedly from the shadowcult and the murders were mainly forsaken. Or I decided to go along with it because I just wanted to be holy again; my family -has- priests. Even though I am dead, my tendancy for the light is some what high. I also wanted to stop the lightslayers from harming any more people, and in order to be prepared, I will have to increase my tendancy.
We met up at a bar a few minutes before we left to the spire for my session. My anxiety at the bar was unbearable, I could barely stand up. Everyone at the bar was curious to know why I was so nervous. Drinking the 2 or 3 bottles of alcohol didn't help me.
"It's her first confession in the Church." She said, but it was a lie, and I had to go along with it.
He could feel it.
He could feel its warming presence flowing through his body. He could feel the soothing ways of the light as they washed through his body in powerful yet gentle waves. The Paladin would have preferred to pray in a chapel, but the nearest one was in Tarren Mill and he'd have had to fight through scores of Forsaken and Horde sell-swords who had made a living for years preying on the peaceful farmers of Hillsbrad.
It would not be wise to give the desiccated corpses any sort of provocation. Any sort of justification to commit more atrocities on the grounds that their holdings had been raided by a human.
He makes me feel like a child
He makes me happy when he smiles
He makes me sad
Makes me mad
Want to give him all I have
And I have tried to treat him good
Show support like I should
Did my part, he's my heart
And I've been faithful from the start
The scent of rotting things, of mold and death and old plague is such a heavy smell in the air of Ghostlands, a land that once smelt of life and spring. Then it smelled of burning, and this place was called the Blackened Woods after the orcs took dragonfire to it. Like so much of Quel’thalas, this part of the land still bears the deep scars of war – and the scars of a leadership who takes no time to heal those wounds. I wondered if the Ghostlands would ever bloom with anything beyond sickly green mold and mutated plantlife. Then I stepped over a hill with my escort of guards, stopped, and thought nothing for a long moment: nothing but shock, sudden dread, and rising outrage. My soldiers… my loyal warriors, sworn to serve and follow and fight at my word… laid broken on the ground, one sightless eye from each skull staring up at the sky. The other eyes had a knife driven through them.
Knives, deadly knives. The knives in their eyes made me think of the knife that sliced into my arm and nearly killed me.
"It's very painful, I know personally."
"The restraints are for your own protection."
"It appears we got it all."
Aelberyn's voice resonated ethereally in my mind as light-headed and dizzy I quickly darted from the room.
The Scarlet Crusader charged down the hall, his mace in his hands and a cry of righteous fury on his lips. He got five paces away from the large, armor-clad tauren engrossed in the multitude of books before the death knight merely raised his hand and sent a blast of howling cold at the Crusader, freezing him solid. Unfortunately for the human, being frozen didn't mean physics stopped applying to him, and the forward momentum of his charge caused the frozen being to continue on, but with no balance, the Crusader hit the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces, mingling with the remains of his Scarlet bretheren. Daraman simply turned and sighed at the pile of ice cubes that had once been a living being before going back to searching the bookshelves for what he was looking for. For his first mission for Sylvanas, they had decided to start him out with something simple, and something close, so they could keep an eye on him. Repor
I’m pretty sure my jaw was broken, teeth felt loose on one side of my mouth and all I have been tasting is copper. I hate when I do something stupid…. Especially since every time I found myself bleeding.. It was usually for someone else. This was no exception. How long have I been here?
The dream had been of a wasteland, all shining rock under a sky with no sun. Outside in the real world, my body laid somewhere cold, with a path of bodies spanning lengths behind me. All corpses with twisted faces, drawn tight with terror and the inevitable pain that came with my talent of magic. But I was not where my body was, I was here, in the shinning desert, just me, these rocks… and his voice.
Inconstant man, that loved all he saw,
And lusted after all that he did love;
Ne would his looser life be tide to law,
But joyd weak wemens hearts to tempt and prove,
If from their loyall loves he might them move;
Which lewdnesse fild him with reprochfull paine
Of that fowle evill, which all men reprove,
That rots the marrow and consumes the braine:
Such one was Lecherie, the third of all this traine.
-Spencer, The Faerie Queene
Casting her gaze on Taneel, Janiil let out a sigh. She didn't think she'd ever understand his ever bright optimism. He had enough so that not only did he think she would pull through this or a way would be found, but enough that he had the time to propose to her. It was very flattering, and under other cirumstances Janiil probably would of accepted. If it wasn't for that dratted sword taking its toll upon her, draining almost all her strength and feeling.
Janiil's eyes slid open, blinking as the darkened room came into focus. The elf tried to rise almost imediatly only to be a sharp stab of pain shoot through her right arm. Causing Jan to yelp before abruptly falling back onto the bed. Her mind felt hazy as if she had to swim through an ocean just to have a thought.
"W-where a-am I?" Janiil gasped out as she tried to breathe. It felt like an invisible anvil was resting on her chest. Jan drew in a long raspy breathe trying to collect her thoughts.
Taneel's Home, she thought, thats where I am
Janiil stepped into the clearing, her vision was steadily getting better, everything was still somewhat blurry but she could easily identify things she was looking at. Jan paused briefly as the voice suddenly drifted up within her mind once again.
"You realize they are weaknesses?"
It was odd how it could pester her to no end sometimes, and then disappear for long periods of time. Janiil paid no attention to it for a moment as she surveyed the clearing, no one had bothered to move the undead corpses, but only scattered bones remained of most.
"Everything they have told me has been lies? The love I felt was but a hallow shell of the emotion?"
Last night I met a paladin who said he had once been considered a great hero, but was now forgotten by everyone. He helped to free a trapped spirit, and decided that he could become a hero once again. I think he’ll be able to do it, too. He seems to have the required motivation, and the inability to refuse to help, even when considering himself an ex-hero.
Personally, I find “hero” to be an odd concept. For example, I’m not one, but I have been called one by people I’ve helped. Maybe to them, I am. I wonder how many of my heroes would consider themselves one?
I told Thrall’tukk once, that if I had my way, I would stay at home, be a tailor, and never fight again. He didn’t believe me, and I’m starting to believe he was right. I am certainly at home more now that I have been in recent days, but I find there are times when I just have to, move.
Pand is kind enough to check in on Leiral those short times I’m gone, and I’m terrified that she’ll wake up when I’m away. I believe she’d forgive me, she understands the need to go, but I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself.
I just can’t seem to help it.
I woke up crying late at night
When I was very young
I had dreamed my father
Had passed away and gone.
((warning, violence and language))
She knew he was mad, whether by design or driven there by addiction she could never say, but it mattered not, madness was madness.
Artisania Marveloso had broken a nail.
She felt the pressure and the twinge of pain through her thick glove at the moment the dark tauren fell before her, fur singed and still smoking. Her nose wrinkled against the distasteful fumes, she stepped back. Her right hand held her left as if it had undergone a painful injury, far more than a broken nail. But to Artisania, such a thing was unbearable.
(( Originally posted January 13, 2007 @ RealmPortal ))Concentrate on the candle. Focus your eyes on the point where the wick meets the flame. Shift it out, find the separations in the colours. Out farther, follow the tip, trace its path. Now in again, to the colours, and then to the wick. Now, out again--
I should be out there, not in here.
I can help them.
(( Originally posted November 22, 2006 @ RealmPortal ))
She's gotten through part of the main field, weeds that seem like crops themselves and she's starting to think it might be a lost cause after all. When she starts wondering whether a fire would stay contained to the field, or spread through the Highlands, she decides it's time for a break. Leaning up against one of the fence posts, she looks at the small clear area in amongst the weeds, sighs at the insignificance of it.
"I'm just scared that I'm not going to be of any use anymore."
"What do you mean?"