Bones

Bones
Bones @bones#209
2020-11-24 20:58:00

Chapter III: The Prison

Ugh.

Fuck.

The world came back to me slowly, in pieces.

My eyelids were too heavy to open, and so my other senses compensated.

First was my hearing. Hearing was paramount to survival, arguably more than sight. As someone who did most of their dealings in dark places, both figuratively and literally, you learned that the things that go bump into the night, go bump, in the night. At first, everything was distant and distorted, a single canvas of obtuse sounds, that became crisper as my hearing came into focus and I was able to filter individual sounds. The rustle of flapping cloth, the slightest creak of leather, the crackle of burning wood. The scrape of metal on metal.

Then my sense of smell. I had always had a keen nose, and in my...

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Bones
Bones @bones#209
2020-11-11 16:16:00

Chapter II: The Professional

I took a step back, my hand still clasped on my shoulder, where I could still feel the sting of the Light in my flesh, trying to get a bead on my assailant’s position. It wasn’t often that I was on the back foot in the darkness.


I let magic flood my senses, the deep twilight of the night becoming less saturated by color, the edges between things becoming fuzzier and bleeding together. The aura of fauna and flora began to glisten and glimmer, and even in the stormy, midnight darkness in the midst of heavy rain, everything living and dead became more clear.


And I saw those twin knives, blazing bright with divinity, drawn and ready, but I still didn’t fucking see them.


In the darkness I only saw a shimmer, the smallest...

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Bones
Bones @bones#209
2020-11-04 16:37:00

Chapter I: The Prize

 “Stormheim” certainly lived up to it’s name. I don’t just mean in it’s weather, but in it’s spirit, and I mean “spirit” in both senses of the word.


Where Northrend was a solemn, dead place, a frigid frost-scape where the living struggled constantly against the symbolic and literal creeping death of winter, where at it’s heart sat the seat of power for all undeath on Azeroth. Stormheim was alive.


It was alive with old magic, thunderstorms, and raging battles fought between the dead, the living, the near-dead, and the eternally damned.


Rain pelted down around me as I rode towards Haustvald, the patter of the heavy rain hammering my cowl down in front of my eyes. Each hoof-beat that the horse-shaped pile of...

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Bones
Bones @bones#209
2018-08-26 17:10:00

Then, and Now

I saw the armada, jagged ships scorching the sky and defiling the land.

I saw the sky darken, I saw the swirling mass of their homeworld burn a hole in the sky.

I saw the sword fall, I felt the world shudder in pain.

I saw the tree burn, smelt the smoke on the wind, and heard the people scream.

I have been, and continue to be, unconcerned.

I am, however, intrigued.

There’s real fucking magic on the wind, now.


The Naaru, the Illidari, the Army of the Light. Prophets, archmagi, doomsayers, and every wannabe huckster flipping cards onto their backs. They drank the punch. They bought bridges in far off lands. They were all convinced that life, the universe, and everything was threatened.

I was unconvinced. There were always...

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