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Sulajin
11-09-2006, 06:54 PM
A new setting, a new place. Down beneath the dusty streets of Orgrimmar and lost in the maze of secret layers and hidden sects the fammiliar chambers lie empty and forgotten. Follow them and you may find a pit of seeming infinite depths, within a horrid mixture of decayed flesh and discarded regents intermingle in a nightmarish mix of potential. Beside the hole, the hearth lies cold. The fires extinguished, save for a few solitary embers, burning on in a field ripe with magic potential.

No longer does Sulajin Bloodbreaze make his home within these wall, no more does he treck through endless tunnels to find his private lab in a city of secrets and shadows. He has moved on, ever upwards into new and better places. Across oceans and over mountains must we travel to find him now. There is a spire. A massive monument of architecture and power. A tribute to forces half forgotten in the modern world. Beneath it lies a land rent by volcanic activities and the eternal mining of Dark Iron Dwarves.

There is a certain stone, set into the hillside. A mostly unnoticable stone. It's collor blends in reasonably well with the surrounding sediment. It bears no keyholes locks or bars. Nothing shall be revealed on the third full moon of the year, when the whelpling roar. A gateway it is, none the less. To those who have been welcomed the sigils will reveal themself and the gateway will spread. A wave of hot air welcoming guests into the strangely smooth walls that lead down into abandoned mine shafts of the Dark Iron. The back ways have been walled off, the entrance disquised.

Within depths once carved to trundle minerals out to wield exquisitly molded metal into armor of quality unheard of by the outside world lurks a new purpose. A new energy fills the chambers, removing and lifting them from the rest of the world. These chambers will be found on no map. Will be discovered by no scrying bowl. They are above, below, apart, and a part of the landscape. Forces undreamt of channel through it constantly, crystal pylons have been erected to ground excess force. Creatures wrought of thought alone patrol the vast structure, keeping the peace, tending to the supplies.

No more do the Dark Iron try to reclaim lost chambers. Never again will they push in for hidden gold, and treasures of the past. They are no longer welcome in this mine.

It serves a new master now.

Vilmah
11-09-2006, 07:10 PM
((Am I invited? ;) ))

Sulajin
11-10-2006, 03:13 PM
((Of course you are Vilmah! You need to practice your magic somewhere... well why not under your master's nose, if it can't be somewhere safe?))

Sulajin
11-10-2006, 03:38 PM
Not enough power. That had to be it. What else could it be? Of course, there was something else he needed. What? T'Ihn had said to "look to your apprentice" but what had Vilmah to offer? She was skilled in the Juju, that was true, but no one had that much skill! She was just an apprentice!

He'd been so close for so long! He had done it! No... not quite. Sulajin had touched the infinite, however, and it had driven him to the brink of madness and robbed him of his soul. He'd been able to retrieve it with Niethan's help, but it was not a process he wished to repeat...

Poor little Sulajin, alone in the dark. You really haven't figured it out yet, have you? It's not your apprentice in and of herself. It's what she is... and the history she bears. Keep trying though. You're a clever mage, I'm sure you'll figure it out. In the meantime your Grom'Ja has returned. Why don't you go see what it's got for you?

Sulajin left to go greet his creation, a half contious Night Elf slung over it's shoulder. Could a Night Elf help him? No... of course they couldn't. He had no need for the skills they could provide. Of course that is not to say he couldn't have his fun with it. Remember the passionate days he had slaughtering and dismembering the ancient enemies of his kind?

Sulajin guides his Grom'Ja to place the now awakening form onto one of his workbenches. Working swiftly he binds the Elf in place, only to be greeted by a slurred tirade of whatever vulgarities the streets of Darnassus held to be insulting this week. With the creature secured Sulajin decided to begin...

But there is no passion anymore, is there Sulajin? You don't feel the firey hatred towards it that used to power your spells. It's just another creature in your lab. No concequence. How very frustrating that must be. Unable to even draw up the memories of what they've done to draw your fury.

Sulajin curses and sets aside his knife. He stares down at the glaring Face for a moment. Darnassian male. It must have been. It was bulkier than that stick creature he had found last time, and had an unsightly growth of hair sprouting from it's stunted chin. Light purple skin and eyes that flash the firelight back at him, those ridiculous ears, so out of place on the elves frame. Yes. It would have to be disposed of.

Sulajin rears back and sends a fist of stone through the creatures stomach, the glinting edges cutting down through muscle and sinew, past stomach and around the spine. A spine? These wretched things that spent all their time lurking in shadow and plotting? No. It had no need for a backbone.

The hand tightens in the screaming creatures flesh, bone beginnning to crack and splinter. An eternity of living only to die at the hands of a mortal...

An eternity of living? Perhaps he had use for this wretch after all... it took a lot of energy to grant immortality and the Elves had strong ties to Well of Eternity. Perhaps he could siphon from it through his newfound friend.

Sulajin grins as he heaves the strugling creature against the wall, the shackles obligingly unfastening as he lifts. Up onto the wall, were a new set of bindings spread. Large Amethystes spreading up and over, plugging the Night Elves gaping wound and sealing him in for an eternity of torment. The Elf's head hung in defeat.

Sulajin grins. Perhaps not a waste of time after all...