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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 his spine and whispered to him. “He wants to make you weak, you know that… they all want to change you, make you their little toy, dress you up and play their games until they tire of you.” Baal’themar raked his nails along the wall, feeling the dull stone drag against his fingertips. “Yes. I know.” He said to the cold empty hallway. “But I wasn’t alone with this one… she helped.” He wiped away a drop of firewater from his chin. “For now. But how long until she leaves? You cling to these people like a child to a mothers dress. Work the list...” the last words felt thick in his mind, coating his thoughts in purpose. “What do you think I’m doing.” He grunted in reply as he rounded a corner to the new entrance to his workshop. Heavy stone slabs covered with strange runes that seemed to slither and move as he looked upon them. He took his hand off the wall and looked at it, slowly he poured the last of his firewater over his hand. The amber liquid flowed over and between his fingers falling to the floor in small streams, he watched as the torrent of booze slowed and pooled in the center of his palm. Baal’themar turned his hand slowly and watched the last of the firewater slide onto the floor, the soft patter as it hit stone made him smile. At least he had that, a quiet place… down here. Alone. He sighed and pressed his sharp fingernail into the flesh of his palm, the large elf man ignored the sting as the first bead of crimson welled up around his nail. He watched the blood pool like the firewater before it, slowly he looked back up to the shifting stone slab. He followed the slow movements of the runes, waiting… each rune writhed between forms, some runes held meaning others pointless shapes or symbols that were out of context on their own. He waited hand slowly dripping as the runes moved, until finally the right rune congealed on the surface of the stone. His reflexes kicked in and snapped his hand forward, slamming his palm into the rune and forcing his bloody palm against it. Like a man swatting a bothersome fly Baal’themar carefully pulled his hand away to inspect his kill. He had hit his mark, thick strands of blood stretched from his palm into the rune, the ropes of viscous blood hung suspended between the cold stone and his warm flesh. With a morbid sucking sound the rune absorbed the blood, snapping the strands and greedily consuming the dark red offering, the wards protecting the workshop opened to him, parting to allow his entrance like an urgent lover. He grinned as the welcome sound of screaming washed over him. “You are awake, good.” He growled at Welean as he entered his workshop, the wards closing behind him… sealing him in with his guest. Baal’themar took a deep breath, taking in the smell of dry blood and rotting meat. He looked over the room slowly. The large room was stone much like the rest of the basement, but the floor had a slight decline into the center, to allow fluids to drain from a large hole covered by a steel grate. He had made use of a similar set up in his old garrison… but this time he needed it larger, chunks of clothes or unwanted flesh would clog the pipes. He walked slowly to the center of the room, two large tables of tools were set up beside a solid looking dark wood table. Baal’themar ran his hand over the table, the cold timber felt smooth under his hand, it felt familiar and welcoming. He looked to the wall where his guest was screaming. He grinned, this was his trophy wall. He would mount his new creations here… and there was room for many more. He closed his eye and pictured the walls covered in his guest, he had a spot in mind for each and every one of them. Baal’themar rounded on Welean facing the man. “But this spot is all yours Welean.” He grinned up at the creature hanging from the wall. Many hooks held him high off the floor, thin but stone steel cable kept him from falling no matter how he trashed against them. Baal’themar watched as it pulled and writhed on the hooks trying desperately to free itself. The large blond elf smiled and reached out to calm the wounded man. “Shh, Welean… be still.” Baal’themar pushed out with his will power and dark runes across Weleans body glowed softly, he seemed to relax and regain his control. His eyes regained their focus and he looked around the room. “Where?” he asked with a raw throat. “You are home, Welean.” Baal’themar replied. Welean looked down at the man before him, his mind slowly returning. “You… and the woman.” He started to breathe fast as the memory of what was done to him returned. The feel of a blade under his skin, the firm tug that removed the flesh from his body. Welean wept the burning pain fresh in his mind. His mind’s eye replayed each detail, the cruel look on their face as they removed the skin from his arms, legs and genitals, the total mutilation of his body to pay for a crime he had long forgotten. Welean pulled himself away from the horrific memories and looked over his body. Raw muscle was all he could see, every inch of his skin was removed... his mind coiled and he felt light headed, the urge to vomit was overwhelming but he guts turned empty as his body twitched against the hooks in his flesh. He couldn't even close his eyes, the lids removed along with everything else. Baal’themar watched as Welean relived the horror he had endured and smiled. “Good, you still have memories in that skull. I want you to live in that moment forever… that moment of soul crushing terror, I want you to feel your mind break over and over.” Baal’themar moved to let Welean have room to thrash about. “You can have a taste of what he felt. You remember don’t you? How could you forget?” Baal’themar added with a grin. “He was my friend. Good kid. Funny, kind and loyal. But you didn’t see the child, you just wanted meat…” Baal’themar tilted his head running his fingers over one of the hooks in Weleans ankle. “Meat you could brutalize and ruin, and throw away when you and your friends were done.” He growled and twisted the hook sending Welean into a frenzy as he fought to get away from Baal’themar. “Well, Welean… now you’re meat, and nothing more. Forever.” Baal’themar grinned and pulled his will power back, letting the agony return in a rush. Baal’themar watched as the creature that was once a man wept and roared into the cold empty room, his eyes once again losing focus as his world dissolved around him. Baal’themar walked back to the stone slab entrance, taking a final look back at his work before leaving the screaming creature in the dark.
  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 saved his brother but the Luna had lost a mother and a sister. Baal'themar knelt down and lifted Theira's body in his arms, she felt lighter now, somehow.. "Take care, Khorvis." He said softly as he thumbed a heathstone to take Theira home, one last time.
  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 crackled with energy as their magic protected him from the spine shattering strength of the attack, the strike sent him off his feet and tumbling through the air into the filth around the pool. Slowly Baal'themar got to his feet, he shook his head and focused on the fight again. He spat out a mouthful of dirt and voidlord blood. "Heh, note to self. Jokes after." he lunged back into the fight.
  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 through it harmlessly only to smash into the ground. Too late now. He let out a roar as he fell toward the beast.
  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 Baal’themar she does not fail to see their similarities... Baal’themar and this Welean he was describing... she give Baal’themar a long look, then she just nodded and opted to say nothing. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. The two walked into murder row and slipped into the shadows. Baal’themar pointed to a large Blood Knight as he walked into the bar. “He will drink himself blind in there and then find a woman to bed, if they are lucky he will pass out before he gets violent.” Once out of sight of the guards Baal’themar took her along the rooftops to the spot he had picked out, a small ledge that overlooked an alleyway a short distance from a loud bar. He pulled a set of face masks from his pack and set them out. “Have a look in that bag” Baal’themar nodded toward a large duffle bag about the size of a man. Fayleah moved to the bag and opened it. Inside the thick canvas bag was; a skimp outfit, some rope and a gag. She looked over the clothes, holding them up… it was clearly a woman’s ‘dress’. She turned to him and gave him a sly grin. “You’ll look stunning in this.” He looked at her holding the ‘dress’ and continued setting up equipment. “You’re bait, you need to look the part. Put that on and he’ll want to eat you up.” He grinned. "This is just a ploy to get me unarmed and in this dress?" she taunted. Baal’themar slowly looked Fayleah up and down. “It can be both.” He said with a smile. He turned to allow her to get changed while he got the poison ready to knock out their target, he pulled out two gnarled roots from his herb kit and turned to Fayleah. Baal’themar tilted his head and watched as she wiggled her hips into the dress, the fabric clung tight to her stunning curves. The clothes slowly slithered up her body with each wiggle of her hips, he lost track of time as he watched. She slowly turned to face him, the dress was tight and looked almost like it was painted on her skin the fabric was so thin. He grinned and took her in. “Woah.” He remarked with a stupid look on his face. Fayleah raised an eyebrow and struck a suggestive pose, she carefully bent down to retrieve the masquerade mask to replace her goggles and complete the outfit. "You going to be able to stay focused?" She straightened up and slowly flipped her hair back, looking much too pleased with herself. “Yes… no. shut up.” He said with a grin, he remembered the roots in his hand. “Oh uh, you need to chew this up and swallow the pulp, it’s going to taste very bitter but you need to keep it down.” He handed her one of the roots. “The poison to knock this guy out is a powder, this root will counteract the poisons effects if you breathe it in.” he popped the root into his mouth and chewed hard pulping the plant and swallowing it down. Fayleah chomped down on the root and chuckled to herself. “You could use this to sweeten up Dari’s coffee.” She said as she swallowed the pulp and got ready for the ambush. Baal’themar handed her a small pouch with a powder in it. “All you need to do is draw him down the alley and blow this in his face, I’ll be waiting to take his body out of the city.” He took a look at her again. “If you need help just call for me.” he grinned. “And I’ll come save the destressed damsel.” Baal’themar laughed at the thought. "If it doesn't work I will just slam his face into the side of a building and try not to kill him" she said with a deadpan look before she slowly grinned at him, giving him a firm punch in the arm. “Just, be careful.” He knew she could easily kill Welean, but he still worried. Fayleah touched his arm and gave him a quick kiss before jumping down to the alleyway below and getting herself set up. Welean staggered out of the bar one of his knuckle split from a fight inside, the sting of it slowly faded as he drunk more wine. The fight had got his blood up and he wanted to find something soft to plow. He scanned the area across the street, normally full of whores waiting to snatch up drunk guards and soldiers. Tonight he found his usual hunting ground empty. He growled and wandered down the walkway toward another hot spot for night workers. Fayleah spotted her target, he swayed with each step. Head full of drink, he’ll take one look as this dress and not think twice about following me. She smiled at the thought. Baal planned this well, now to take our prize. Fayleah thought he walked past. “Hey, handsome… you look lonely.” She said with a slight purr, trying her best to draw him to her. Welean turned to see her, his mind raced to lewd thoughts and he stumbled toward her. Fayleah grinned and slowly walked back deeper into the alley. “Don’t be shy *hic* girl, I’ll show you a real good time. Not like the others.” Welean slurred. She continued walking slowly back. “You want me big boy? You have to come and get me” she purred back at him as he neared the end of the alley. Welean smiled thinking he had her cornered. “Nowhere to go now. Guess you’re all mine.” He said as he leaned over her, his breath thick with the stink of wine. Fayleah looked up at him and smiled, taking the small pouch in her hand. “Guess again.” She said as she blew the powder into his face. The small cloud of poison slithered into Welean’s lungs as he gasped, the effects kicked in quickly. The man fell to his knees as his body started to lose its’ connection to his brain. His sight faded and before he was left to fall into unconsciousness was Fayleah smiling down at him. The three arrived at the Cabin in the dead of night, the other guests had fallen asleep or were otherwise not in a place to watch as Fayleah and Baal’themar returned with their prey. They made their way down to the basement and to Baal’themars workshop. Baal’themar placed the unconscious man a large wooden table and strapped him down. Baal’themar walked to the long steel work bench next to the table and grabbed a sharp knife. “I’ll remove his armour, could you get my medical kit from the bathroom?” he smiled at Fayleah. Fayleah smiled and almost skipped off. “Yes, sir!” she vanished down one of the hallways and was out or sight. Baal’themar looked down at the man strapped onto the table. “We are going to have a good time… This has been a long time coming.” He removed the man’s armour, cutting leather straps and dropping the plate on the ground with a loud crash. Baal’themar had the man naked on the table when Fayleah returned with the medical kit, she had gotten changed out of her thin dress and into a light shirt and pants, something more suited for the work to come. Baal’themar took the medical kit from her and started setting out strange vials and herbs on the work bench. “These will stop him from dying of shock.” He grinned at Fayleah. “I hope you have your knife with you?” "Of course." she flicked out her skinning knife. "Can't let you have all the fun!" Fayleah grinned and stood beside Baal’themar. “Good, Remove the skin from this leg.” He stepped back and watched as Fayleah worked. Fayleah grinned and started to slice into Welean’s flesh, the man groans and slowly comes to consciousness at first he doesn’t know what is going on, his eyes blink and search the room, but he is quickly awoken as Fayleah slides the blade under the flesh of his leg and starts slowly slicing down to his foot, his shin bleeding freely. “Arrgh! What the fuck?!” Welean roared as the woman slowly skinned his leg. “Shhh Welean.” Baal’themar said as he placed his large hand on the man’s forehead. “You are going to be here a long time, let’s not start screaming so soon.” Fayleah continued slicing into Welean’s leg, she had sliced a circle below his knee and another just above his ankle, she would remove the skin in one large sheet, she held the flesh and slowly dragged the tip of her blade along his shin to start, once she had a firm grasp on his flesh she used the length of the blade to part the skin from the flesh. Welean screamed and thrashed against the restraints that bound him to the table, his strength and anger useless as Fayleah worked. Baal’themar watched Fayleah finish up with Welean’s leg, she carefully placed the skin on the workbench then turns to start on his thigh. Welean had stopped screaming, the man had gone limp in his bindings. “The leg will do for now.” Baal’themar reached out to touch Fayleah only to have her growl at him and hit away his hand. Fayleah’s face was twisted into a cruel grin, she lunged at Baal’themar as something deep within her snapped, fel-energy burned along her tattoos as her body started to grow in strength and size. Baal’themar was caught completely off guard, her sudden strength and aggression overwhelmed him and he toppled backward. He landed hard his head hit the cold stone with a solid thud, his vision slightly blurred, he watched Fayleah lose control over the demonic power within her. She stood over him her chest heaving with excitement, she watched him like a fox might watch a chicken. Baal’themar groaned and propped himself up on his elbow. “Damn it Fayleah, we need him alive. If you skin him too much he will die of shock.” He carefully got up and felt the back of his head, wet hair and warm blood met his fingers. He held his head and grabbed a medical cloth, the cloth was soaked in powerful herbs and balms. Baal’themar covered Welean’s leg with the cloth, the man had passed out. “What’s gotten you so worked up?” He turned to see Fayleah inspecting him, her demonic eyes slowly working their way over his body. She took a large step toward him and pinned him between the table and her, she stood taller than him and Baal'themar was forced to look up at her. Fayleah radiated heat from her copper skin, something inside him urged him to embrace her fel-energy. She moved close to him, her eyes lost in something primal and raw. “I want you” she purred in his ear, her voice made him weak. Baal’themar didn’t fight as the two slowly moved down to the floor.
  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 quoted Chaoseater. Baal'themar looked around trying to find some sign of Khorvis. "Right well... fuck this place." He smiled at Theira and started to jog. "Think you can keep up old girl?" he asked her with a sly grin.
  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 and he had the blade needed to focus the ritual from Lilliana. Just get the old orc and leave. He thought to himself, he repeated his mission. Get him out and safe, then you’re done… don’t push your luck. He sighed and emerged from the shadows to join the main party as they formed up outside the Grim Halls. He walked to Edgar without looking at the others, he slowly pulled each component out of his pack. The Bonecube, Bloodstone Crystal and the Elemental Ice stone. Emerged from his pack, followed finally by the Dagger that Edgar had asked for, Kiannis had kept the blade safe before he handed it to Lilliana for the ritual. Baal’themar remembered the man handing it over to her rather than him… distrust ran deep between the two elves but none of that mattered. They would need to work together to save their brother… save him from his hellish prison.
  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 the hallway to her living space was lit with small multicolored lights, the same kind you would find decorating a winter veil tree. Baal’themar wondered the horror these lights could induce if the right amount of narcotics and pain were applied. He pondered these thoughts as he walked down the hallway to her door. The closer he got to it the louder the sounds of her workshop became. A loud hammering, and muffled goblin swearing softly came from behind the door heavy steel door. Baal’themar grinned and knocked on the door. “Mik?” he asked at the door, waiting for her to answer. The hammering and swearing continued unabated, Baal’themar frowned, and knocked again. “Mikki, open up!” he yelled at the door… again nothing but hammering and swearing. His patience worn thin Baal’themar kicked the door hard with his combat boot. “Mikkia, open this fucking door or I swear by whatever gods you hold close. I’ll ram my arm up your ass and use you like fucking puppet!” The stream of swear words stopped and the sound of little boots walking toward the door rewarded him. A little grease stained goblin in worn blue overalls, a par of thick work boots and little else. “What ya need boss?” she asked in a light tone. Baal’themar looked her over and stepped into her room. “We are moving… Gather your shit, I don’t want you in the house when we teleport It.” he said looking over her work. He slowly frowned, “I remember telling you this…” She walked over to her workbench. “I wasn’t here for a few days boss man, I was forced to use the black market to get supplies because you and Nathandiel left me here alone, you sure you didn’t get drunk and start yelling at the walls again?” she gave him a sly grin. Baal’themar liked the girl, it’s why he kept her safe from the people that wanted her dead… but she did like to annoy him. “Wouldn’t be the first time… we are leaving tonight, and there’s no point in keeping you safe if you end up dead because some magic stone doesn’t work correctly.” He returned the smile. The little Goblin sighed and looked up at him. “Will we be gone long?” she asked with a note of worry in her voice. Baal’themar shook his head. “Shouldn’t be long, an hour maybe two… I’ll take you to the new place myself, you won’t be alone.” He reassured her. She nodded and walked over to her dresser. “Guess I better get dressed and packed then.” She unbuttoned her overalls and wiggled out of them. Baal’themar turned to give her some privacy. “We will head out once you are done… I’ll wait upstairs.” He started to walk out of the room when Mikkia called back to him. “Hey, what do ya think? The blue or the grey?” She held up two tops, while she stood there topless waiting for his reply. “What one looks better?” she moved the tops in front of herself letting him see what they might look like. Baal’themar frowned, but looked them over. “The grey brings out your eyes.” He said with an annoyed huff, he continued to walk out. “Thanks boss.” She called back when as he walked out the door and down the hallway. Baal’themar waited for her to get dressed, while he waited he rolled the keystone to the bloodstone teleporter between his fingers. The little gem would send all this stone and timber to another location in the blink of an eye… powered all by blood magic. He owed Aderlee a great deal, the Troll had taught him magic, something that he never had the chance to learn in his youth. Better still he had been taught a magic that wasn’t arcane, the thought of him knowing something that some uptight mage didn’t made him grin. Mikkia bounced up the stairs and into the lounge where Baal’themar waited. “All set boss man.” She said with a warm smile. “Good, come outside with me and let’s see if our home doesn’t explode.” He grinned. She swallowed hard at the thought, even as a joke she didn’t want to have the last place she felt safe explode, not again. The two walked outside and into the forest. Baal’themar stood next to a large red gemstone, with a band of iron and bronze work floating around the middle. A small recess in the gem is the only thing that marks the surface of the gem. Baal’themar took another quick look at his home, a place he built with his own hands. Before he pushed the keystone into the recess. The stone sent a ripple through the gem, the power within the bloodstone sent small arcs of energy crackling over the surface and with a thunderous crack and loud boom the cabin and everything within vanished from the Grizzly Hills. The smell of ozone filled the air, and the wards around the house died. “Done… didn’t explode after all.” He smiled down at Mikkia who stood mouth open in shock. “It’s gone…” she ran to the edge of where the cabin once was, and she looked down into the freshly carved hole. “That was awesome!” she bounced and jumped on the spot. “Think how we could turn this into a weapon, we could bomb people with houses! They wouldn’t see it coming! Everyone expects bombs but cabins?!” she yelled and muttered to herself while Baal’themar watched from beside the bloodstone. He shook his head and pulled the keystone from the larger stone, with its power spent the crystal grew dull and collapsed into a fine dust, leaving the band on the forest floor. Baal’themar picked it up and put it into his pack. “Enough screwing around, let’s go see if the house is at the new spot.” He pulled a strange obsidian stone from his pocket and thumbed it, his body was enveloped in smoke and when it cleared he had taken the form of a large black stone panther with large powerful wings. Baal’themar looked over to Mikka and growled. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming.” She muttered as she climbed onto his back. The two took flight with a flap of his new wings and headed to their new home.
  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 with the stone, placing it on the floor next to him. The room looked dead, the entire cabin was a tomb… the smell of old blood and rot hit him, he hadn’t noticed when he entered but the fresh air must have stirred up the stench. It’s so quiet now… no laughter, no baby crying and no idle chatter. He felt his guts twist. Alone again. It crept up his throat, the acrid taste of bile. Guilt, shame, anger and sorrow. Feelings made flesh with the sick taste of acidic bile. "Did you expect any less?" a voice in his head questioned. ”Human’s aren’t like that.” The words haunted him. It could have worked… we could have been a big family… why couldn’t you even try? He felt his head spin. “You could have TRIED to make it work!” He roared to the silent stone walls. “You had us both when it started! How was this any different?!” His voice echoed around the dark rooms and hallways. "This was how it was always going to play out… you know it was. If it didn’t end like this, it would have ended in a few years anyway. Don't let yourself feel for a loss that you knew was coming." He slowly let it all slip from his mind, he sat staring at the blood stained stones. The smell started to get stronger, the foul air came up from deep within the basement. "You tried for happiness, gave it a solid try. Nothing to be ashamed of… but you should have known better. You lost sight of what truly makes you happy, that stench isn’t from the rotting family. It’s from work left unfinished, a symptom of your attempt at ‘normal’." He remembered what he was meant to be doing, the High Shield family. He had let them die down here and his work on them wasn’t even halfway finished. The bloated bodies would be in their cells, the sisters only slightly changed and the mother ended without seeing what he had planned. They had died pointless deaths, he had failed to give them the chance to see what they were on the inside. The voice calmly said "Once the paint is dry there is little you can do to change the picture, you can paint over it but it will never be the same... better to start new. Fresh paint and a new canvas." Start over, move the Cabin and continue my work. The thought pushed the bile back down and he picked up the blood stone. “Mikki, were leaving!” He yelled into the emptiness. Baal'themar turned on his heel, his mind focused on something he could change, something that he could achieve by himself. He stormed up the stairs to the main room, the smell of death followed him. “Mikki! Get your shit ready we are moving the Cabin.” He yelled pointlessly to the empty cabin. He placed the blood stone on his bed and gathered his ritual equipment. He was going to do this tonight. No more distractions, work the list. he repeated his new mantra in his head. Work the list, work the list. He gathered the ritual components and headed back down to the basement. He would need to power a new stone to replace the old one, that one had a new and grand purpose. Baal'themar removed his combat gear down to the waist, he set up the ritual candles and burning urns, the smell of burning plants masked the smell of rotting elf. He pulled the curved blades from their sheaths and coated his chest in oils and set about cleaning the blades before the final step of carving runes into his flesh. The wet sound of fresh blood hitting stone helped him focus on the ritual, slowly some of his life force was poured into the stone. It would take all night but he would ensure this final stone was ready… the Grizzly hills was a nice idea, but it was time to move. [c1]
  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 times where it would come back to him with a rush, and it would overwhelm him with the depth of the sudden pain. He dreaded the times that he was able to remember... but then. "People change" he remembered Fayleah's words. "You are right, we do. And not always for the better..." he removed his glove and looked over his twisted flesh. "You're a monster!" the thought of Hendrick and his how he suffered brought a clarity to him. "Yes... I'm sorry Elora, but I have changed... I'm a monster. But I'll keep working... I'll be something to fear, I'll be the thing that would make even the filth that hurt you would be afraid of." Baal'themar closed his fist tight, he felt the tips of his finger nails break the skin of his palm. "Forgive me Elora, but I can't be the same boy you loved. He died with you in that hell." Thick lines of blood ran down his arm and the pain from the wound burned as Baal'themar clenched his fist harder. "And I'll not pretend to be him." he un-clenched his fist his palm was wet with blood it coated his fingers and palm. *In the depth of his mind* The woman with golden eyes, watched in horror as her work started to come undone. "No! You can't give in!" she screamed into the void. Slowly, a sound met her ears, she turned in a panic and hoped that her fears weren't coming true. In the distant darkness of Baal'themars' mind a huge shape slowly rose up. A wolf like beast, massive and corrupted took its first steps. Its thick fur slick with oil like tar, its filth dripped into the void. The woman watched as the beast took in a deep breath, the sound of air as it rushed into the beast’s lungs gripped her with horror. She knew well what this meant, she had failed... her attempts to turn Baal'themar from his darkness had only caused him pain and confusion, his will and his soul so misaligned... The beast finally howled, the sound was deafening it rolled out from the void like a storm cloud over mountains, endless and indomitable. The woman crumbled under the overwhelming power of it. Her failure was complete, her form splintered into shards and scattered be the monstrous howling. *In the real world.* Baal'themar watched the blood drip onto the dry soil, the ground so parched for water in spite of the running water only a few meters away. He felt... free, his choice to embrace what he had become was long overdue. It was time to share his new found perspective with Nathandiel.
  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. Nathandiel sat on his back lazily watching the horizon. A sound like thunder shook him from his daydream and he sat upright and looked toward the direction of the sound. A soft whistle was the only warning Baal’themar got before something large and fast shot past him toward the ground, he had to jerk his body to avoid the object. Whatever it is, it lacks the fel-green glow of a Legion weapon. Baal’themar thought. Nathandiel held on tight and let slip a curse as he fought to keep his grip. His curse was followed by a thunderous crash as the object slammed into the swamp under the two men. Baal’themar dove down toward the impact site, Nathandiel leaned into the dive keen to see what had disturbed his daydream. Baal’themar landed in the mud and waited for Nathandiel to hop off his back. In a cloud of smoke the tall blond elf stood next to his lover, and the two men headed toward the object that now rested in the soggy muck. Twisted and cracked steel met the two men as they approached the strange metal box, Nathandiel walked over to the box and kicked at it, a low hollow sound rang out, followed by a soft whimper. “There’s something inside this thing!” he yelled to Baal’themar. Baal’themar frowned and helped Nathandiel pull the metal box onto it’s side. “This thing has hinges…” Baal’themar nodded to two thick metal hinges and what looked like a bolt holding a door shut. “If this is a door then we better get it open and see what’s inside,” Nathandiel said with a grin. The two men worked on removing the pins for the hinges with the few items they had on them and anything heavy from around the area. In time brute force and stubbornness won and the door gave way to what was inside. A grease covered goblin woman lay unconscious, her small body had bounced around inside the steel coffin when it came to an abrupt stop in the swamp. Nathandiel’s doctor instincts kicked in and he started to check on her. “She’s still alive… but she needs to be taken care of fast.” He turned to Baal’themar. “She’ll need to stay with us.” Baal’themar grinned. “How often does it rain cute girls? I think we can make an exception for her…” Nathandiel carefully picked her up in his arms, she was limp like a tattered ragdoll. Soot and grime covered her face and clothes. Together they activated their runestones and the soft green light enveloped them all. As the green light faded they stepped out into the basement. Nathandiel had taken the time to change the hearth stones summoning point, the safety of the basement being the logical choice. Nathandiel rushed over to the now clean and unused stone operating table and set the woman down. He worked quickly to remove her clothes and clean up her wounds. “She’s got a haemothorax, I’m going to need your help,” Nathandiel said as he waved him over. “Will you check on Siané and Kieran while I get her ready please?” He asked. While Baal’themar checked on Siané and the baby, he palpated the tiny woman’s chest. He turned her onto her side, small green breasts slumping, and raised one arm over her head. “Baal’themar! I said check on, not linger!” He didn’t have a full theatre, but he had the basics. The little green woman was unconscious--which was lucky for her. Travel had taken too much time. He went to the cabinets and took out supplies. Sadly, the nature of what Baal’themar’s basement had been created for had not been the comfort and cleanliness of a standard hospital. It took some searching, but eventually he found a local anesthetic. He wondered momentarily if Baal’themar had stocked that by accident; sparing his playthings from pain seemed counter intuitive. Baal’themar returned while Nathandiel was washing the little woman’s side: up her arm and down to her waist. He put on gloves and palpated the area he intended to cut into again. “You’re my nurse, come assist me.” Baal’themar frowned but came to his side. “I said you’re my nurse--you don’t stand on the business side of the table. Go on around.” Baal’themar did as he was told and stood opposite him. “Hold her please,” he instructed, dipping the needle of anesthetic into her flesh. “This will help a little bit, but once I cut through muscle...well...she might wake up.” “Wake up?” “Wake up. I’m gonna cut into the space between her lungs and her ribs and drain the area.” He looked at Baal’themar. “If that doesn’t wake her up, we’re looking at a head injury.” He smirked. He performed the placement of the tube quickly. It wasn’t a proper tube, but the procedure was ancient and could be adapted to suit one's needs. The poor girl did wake up, right when Nathandiel jammed his gloved fingers into the wound he’d made to poke around and spread the incision. “Hold her…” he repeated calmly. “Hold her…” When the drain was in place he held the opposite end out to Baal’themar. “Open your mouth,” he demanded. Baal’themar shook his head. “Open.” Baal’themar took the tube in his mouth. “Now suck.” Baal’themar frowned but did so. When the blood and debris made it to Baal’themar’s mouth he spat, sending up an arch of purple and red that splattered across the floor with a heavy thwack. “Good.” Nathandiel took the drain back as Baal’themar wiped his chin, and let it drain freely to the floor; he’d find a bucket or a jar after. He sutured the tube in place, hushing the poor woman and assuring her that she was alright, that she was safe, that things were looking good, and that while she’d been in a terrible accident she was a very tough, little cookie. When he was done he wasted no time in setting up an intravenous line and administering pain medication from his travel bag. He gave her a sedative and set to cleaning her up. When she was out, he had Baal’themar carry her to one of the beds and cover her up. “I’ll need you to go to the Undercity to get some supplies,” he told Baal’themar as he filled a large bucket halfway with water. He brought it over and set it beside the bed and redirected the free end of the tube into it. The water seal would prevent air bubbles from tracing back up the line and into the woman’s chest. “I’d go, but someone that knows what to do should stay with her. We might even need Siane to do some of her--” He wiggled his fingers. “--magic.” Baal’themar looked over the wounded woman and nodded. “Tell me what supplies you need and I’ll get them for you.” Nathandiel left the bedside to write a list for Baal’themar. “These should all be in the same place where we did your physical exam,” he said as he handed Baal’themar the list. Baal’themar read over the list and sighed. “I’ll be back shortly. It shouldn’t take me long to steal this stuff and leave,” he said as he readied himself to head to Dalaran. “I’ll get Siané to come in on my way out.” Baal’themar turned on his heel and headed out to Undercity. Siané appeared shortly afterward. “Kieran is sleeping,” she said hesitantly, her gray eyes moving to the unconscious goblin female. Whatever she inferred was going on, she didn’t object to. “You needed me to…?” Nathandiel made a grimace of distaste. “Heal her,” he said, indicating the goblin. He went over to the basin to wash his hands, as though that would help with the taint accrued by asking for magic to be performed. “I don’t want all the effort we went through to be for nothing. Make it quick so you can get back to Kieran.” “Okay,” Siané said in that dull way she did, and went over to the goblin. Nathandiel watched her covertly while pretending to be busy cleaning himself up. She did her best to summon the Light but Nathandiel had seen better healers. Still, it was better than nothing, and the unconscious goblin’s breathing seemed to grow easier. “Now get,” Nathandiel said, making shooing motions that also doubled as air-drying his hands, and Siané lowered her gaze and went back to the cell that was currently outfitted as a nursery for Kieran.
  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 undead man had spoken. Scarlet Athenaeum, and a library of old human lore... Perhaps this will mean something to Khorvis. Rain set in as he walked, by the time Baalthemar arrived at the guild halls and was standing in the high Inquisitors office he had been soaked to the bone. He dripped onto the messy office floor, water pooling around his feet as he gave his report.