Baalthemar

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Baalthemar last won the day on February 16 2017

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  1. *Warning NSFW Content!* Baal’themar carefully made his way down the stone steps to the basement under his Cabin, the cold air wrapped around his face and neck welcoming him like a lover’s embrace. He had started drinking early that night, emotions fouled his thoughts he sought to drown them. He ran his hand over the cold stone wall as he walked down the dark hall to his new workshop… he let out an annoyed growl and downed a fresh mouthful of firewater as he remembered how he had almost lost his project, thanks to a soft hearted man that wanted to change him. A cold voice slithered up
  2. Baal'themar slowly recovered from the battle, his mind was a storm of emotion he fought hard to control. Theira and Mai'kull had given their lives to save Khorvis from the shadowlands, both knew the risks but still they charged headlong into the unknown. Baal'themar offered a small smile at their memory before he returned to his stoic and cold features. He put his hand on his wounded brothers shoulder. "Khorvis... I have to take her back to her family." He looked down at Theira's body. There would be no body for the Grim to take... Mai'kull was gone. This mission was bittersweet, he had s
  3. Baal'themar fought alongside Khorvis, the large elf slashed and stabbed around his brother, he covered Khorvis where he could and attacked when the orc made an opening. He smiled, "Now watch the timbers of your house fall in flames" Baal'themar quoted the frenzied orc warrior. "You missed your calling Khorvis, you should have been a poet." he ducked under a thrashing limb. "Oh, how the woman would have swooned for you and your honeyed words." He chuckled as black sludge doused him, blinding him to an incoming attack. A thick tentacle slammed into his chest, the Iron bark and frost spells
  4. Baal’themar ran next to the others the familiar stench of his friend slithered its way deep into his lungs, he coughed at the pungent stench of friendship and grinned. He pushed himself hard to make it to Khorvis, the sounds of muffled yelling and rough barking of insults gave him hope. He bolted through the tunnels alongside the others, as their path dropped out into a fall he could see the creature that loomed over his friend. Baal’themar leapt into the air and spread his arms wide, daggers in hand. The thought occurred to him that this creature might be ethereal and he would pass thr
  5. Baal’themar led Fayleah through the portal in Dalaran to Silvermoon, the sudden jolt of being transported made him feel slightly off balance, but once they started walking again the feeling passed. Fayleah leans over to him and whispers. “So, who is the target?” Baal’themar looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. “Welean Darkbane, a beast given a uniform and power. A brute in blood knight armor.” Baal’themar gripped his blade hilt. “Very quick to anger and more than willing to beat someone to death just for the fun of seeing fresh blood on his knuckles.” Fayleah looked at
  6. Baal'themar felt his armor freeze, the sudden cold made him gasp. The ice magic hardened over his armor adding yet another layer of protection to his combat gear. He growled and looked at his daggers, they glowed like embers, but their heat didn't burn his flesh. Thanks Storm... he grinned thinking of the Tauren before stepping through the portal and into the unknown. Like with all portals he was ripped between reality and spat out in a slight daze. He looked back to the portal and watched Theira walk through behind him. "We don't have much time. 'the way will not survive the hour' " he q
  7. "Let's get this done then." Baal'themar growled as he walked toward the portal... he wondered if he was going to return, and what state Khorvis was in... it didn't matter in the end, he would save his brother or die trying. He stopped at the edge of the portal waiting for a moment for the others.
  8. Baal'themar rolled his shoulders relaxing his body before they needed to fight, and there was no doubt... there would be a fight. He checked his blades, both still had a thick coating of poison. Baal'themar smiled. We are coming Khorvis... just hang on a little longer. He waited for the others to make a move
  9. Baal’themar stalked in the shadows on the outside edge of the marching party. They headed to the Grim Halls, he wondered if the Grim might try to capture him after this mission was over and they had Khorvis safe. He scanned the people that had joined, so far he couldn’t see anyone that would go out of their way to stop him. He made a plan to escape if things started to look like they were going to turn on him. His pack was heavy with the ritual components. Stones, gems and cubes made of bone… He remembered the creation of the unholy and blood icons, Stromsky had given him the Ice icon a
  10. NSFW warning kinda. Baal’themar walked into the cabin and his mind set on where the cabin was going be for the foreseeable future. He headed down to Mikkia’s room to make sure she wasn’t in the cabin when it moved… he wasn’t sure how the blood magic would react to a living creature when it moved the building. The thought of her being trapped underground, or fused into one of the walls didn’t being him and comfort. He walked down the stone steps to the basement and turned down the hallway to her room, a glorified cell when she first arrived, she had turned it into quite the room, and
  11. *Warning, this thread will contain NSFW content.* Baal’themar returned to the Cabin late in the evening, the cool air helped relax him after an eventful night of heated conversation. He opened the door to the dark and empty Cabin and made his way through the silent rooms. He walked down to the basement to gather one of the blood stones he had in place to move the Cabin to another location... if the need had arisen. He looked around for Mikki, the Goblin woman he and Nathandiel had saved from her ‘escape pod/death trap’ device, she was nowhere to be seen. Baal’themar finished wit
  12. (The following takes place near the waterfall above Orgrimmar) Baal'themar sat down after Fayleah had vanished, his world seemed to spin, his mind still raced. He had told her so much about him... had she been listening when he cried out to Elora? The thought of her brought with it a fresh wave of pain and sorrow. He looked into the water as it rushed off into the depths below the cliff. "Elora..." he whispered to the dry air. He looked at his hand, and slowly made a fist with his gloved fist. He had changed so much, it seemed like a life time ago that she died but there were
  13. Baal’themar and Nathandiel had enjoyed a night at the pleasure palace, Nathandiel had felt unloved and worried that Baal’themar had ran off with someone else… or worse, gotten hurt fighting demons. Baal’themar did his best to show Nathandiel how he felt, and promised to be at home more. The cool night air softly whipped around them as they flew over swamp-land and gnarled trees toward their home, Baal’themar had taken from as a large stone panther, a form that he used to travel with Nathandiel. The two men had chosen to fly home enjoying the time alone, in the crisp Northrend air. Na
  14. Baalthemar pulled his knife away and removed his boot from Payson. "See, that wasn't so hard." he threw the weeping man a small bag of gold coins. "Thank you for your time, Mr Payson. If this information doesn't check out. I'll be back for another talk..." He turned on his heel and headed out of Undercity toward the Grim halls in Tirisfal Glades. Baalthemar walked out into the stale air of Lordaeron and tucked his cloak up around himself as the telltale signs of rain started to creep over the twisted forests. As he walked over the old cobble stones he thought about the words the unde