Tag: Old Gods x 4

The thing sat limp in the draenei's hand, a gelatinous blob with barbed tentacle that hung like the dripping entrails of a gutted deer. Niviene paled at the sight of it, her fair complexion turning to near parchment white. She moved to stand closer to Bragh, slipping her hand into his, seeking comfort in his strength.

The priestess watched in horrified fascination as Daciana tied the tentacled thing around her head like a bandana; it was all Niviene could do to keep her supper down at the sight. The draenei stood in the center of the group, turning to look at each of them. After a few moments Daci declared every one free of the parasite that took control of the mind of its host. And everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Daci paused in...

She scowls at the lights burning in the windows of the estate, annoyed at herself for her surprise. The building had been half ruined after the incident, abandoned; she chides herself at her foolishness for supposing it would remain so. The location was too good and the remains of the house too intact for someone not to have bought it.

It was your fault, a whisper says and she shakes her head in denial.

Her bare feet make only the faintest whisper as she creeps through the shadows beneath the garden wall; there is a spot she could climb, but but she rejects it as too risky, too much danger of being silhouetted against the rising moon and the iron blades and broken glass which topped the wall are doubtless still there. Farther on, there...

Do you dream while you sleep or is it an escape from the horrors of reality?

It never ceases; the whispers, the half-heard voices, the incessant monotonous susurration punctuated by distant screams. Concentration may cause the whispers to fade,  ecstasy may blot them out for a moment, but they are never truly silent.

Sometimes she answers them.

All that you know will fade ...

“It already has. This world is not the one I remember. It is shattered, broken; nothing is the same. And no one remembers me.”

Ny'alotha is a city of old, terrible, unnumbered crimes ...

“And so is Silvermoon. Is the Sleeping City so different? What madness walks there that does not walk here?”

She arises from her pallet and considers the...

“Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind, when it has once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock.”  Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who went to school to learn magic. She was very bright and learned very fast and her teachers were happy with her. Perhaps she was not as wise as she was bright, for she wanted to know things her teachers would not teach her.

So the young woman read books she should not have read and learned things she should not have learned and she went places that her teachers had forbidden and she did things that we can not name. Her teachers clucked their tongues and shook their heads, for it was not the first time this sort of thing had happened.

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