Ignitheus Fireheart

Aesthetics for Pyromancer Ignitheus Fireheart

[ignitheus]

FYI Niklos Adamant has been chatting about you in discord VC spreading false rumors about you being related to someone they dislike. So if you happened to get mass reported that is likely her guild reporting you just to give you a heads up

Never heard of this person before, so they must be from MG. If you happen to read this, Anon, send me a friend request in disc to "ignitheus".

[ignitheus]

How does it feel being so reviled because youre such a prick. According to my global ignore list you been on it for 563 days for how insufferable you were. Stop telling everyone what to do. Ffs. You arent lore police.

Reviled? I am not hated by everyone. It's difficult for me to take the words of an Anon to heart, though. If you really want to express your views to me, my discord is open and available.

[ignitheus]

[RP] The Vol’dun Showdown (Ignitheus’ Perspective)

‘Fwoosh!’

The flurry of fire soared in front as a scythe wreathed in fire chinked into leather armor and cut down an assaulting worgen. A Pyromancer bathed within orange flames stooped over the Alliance troop. His skull for a face gave an expressionless stare as the body limped to the side. “For...Greymane…,” it struggled to speak. Daggers falling to the ground. The life slipping out of the creature’s body. Nearby, a Vulpera caravan parked idly as the driver and his navigator mumbled and bickered to each other throughout the assault. Hiding behind a box that had loosened and toppled over. The pyromancer yanked his scythe out of the bloodied corpse with fresh blood dripping from his weapon.

“Ignitheus.”

Shaking his scythe out, Ignitheus sheathed it to his back, and turned to the voice whom called him out. As he searched the area, another body fell to the ground with dagger wounds lodged deep into vital points and the back. A shroud of darkness appeared in front just a few yards away. A figure exposed himself and stepped close. The killer: an elven rogue in black and red leathered attire. Shadowy magics draping around him like another set of armor. His palms rested upon the pommel of his daggers. Ignitheus turned to the rogue. “That should be it, Zan’themos. Are you well?”

“I am fine, brother,” he said. Rolling his shoulders around. “Burn the bodies away. We don’t need any evidence.” Scattered about the desert sands, corpses littered around the area. Some with burns. Others with deep, long cuts and holes. One with a painful-looking dent smack in the chest. Nearby, a priestess of the Light knelt down to the shooken up Vulpera as a drunken monk staggered with their brew. “Right,” he replied, lighting bodies up in flames with each one he passed. “Lets keep this caravan going.” The Vulpera hopped up as their defenders came close. Nodding, they set out to continue the trek.

Ignitheus had been on the caravan defending job ever since Dazar’alor was assaulted. With the death of the Zandalari king, outposts were spread out in Vol’dun and Nazmir to secure the landscapes against the Alliance. No one wanted to take the chance of another organized invasion to cripple the empire even more than it already is. The Vulpera, hearing of the events, continued to offer supplies of support.

Groaning a bit to himself, Igni brought his hands behind his head. The trading route was a long walk with pit stops along the way for places of momentary rest. Fortunately for the party, the sun was beginning to set, which meant a decrease from the scorching heat. The trek was coming to a close. All was relieving… until Ignitheus stopped dead in his tracks.

As the caravan made its way to the designated outpost, Zan’s ears twitched and turned to face his brother. He watched his movements. Studied his fire, which rose with intensity and wavered from side to side in a slow and focused behavior.

Something had caught the pyromancer’s attention.

“What is it Ignitheus?” Zan spoke with concern and curiosity. A hand kept at the ready to his daggers.

Igni didn’t answer him. Neither did he move or acknowledge Zan. As the sky slowly grew darker, a familiar sensation washed over him. A small surge of shadow energy tethered to a familiar source. A soul he once met. A soul he couldn’t so easily forget.

With urgency, he turned his head straight onto an orc grunt standing guard just up ahead and dashed forwards with Zan followed after him. The grunt was taken by surprise from the skully bonfire up in his face. “What directions are the other Horde outposts in Vol’dun,” Ignitheus questioned with urgency. The grunt backed up from the intensive flames. Beads of sweat dripped from his green forehead. “Ack-! Tone down that magic, elf,” the orc growled. The grunt pointed in different directions. “The outposts are far north-west, east, and-- Hey! Where are you going?!” Igni dashed off. “Stay at the caravan, Zan.” “East,” he repeated to himself. That’s where he felt it. Unsheathing his staff, he muttered forth a spiraling fiery portal as he continued to run. From behind, a trail of hoof prints surged forward followed by the sounds of a horse. A dreadstead cloaked, too, in fire. Igni sheathed his staff, hopped on the dreadsteed, and rode towards the dark source.

On the way to the Horde outpost, the faint source of magic would vanish out of his perception range for a few moments, making Ignitheus looking around and reach out to find nothing, only to have it appear again. If it weren’t for Ignitheus being a warlock and his connections of such dark magics, he’d have far a more difficult struggle in tracking it down. The source was on the move continuously. Stepping in and out of sight and carefully covering its tracks. He growled a bit. It was becoming harder to track. If only he had- Then it clicked.

Shuffling a hand into the neck of his robe, Ignitheus pulls out a large purple crystal the size of his palm. Upon removal, it brimmed with dense shadowflame. A deep echoed voice slipped out from it.

???: “What will you have of me now, Ignitheus?” “Ackolyse. Can you sense it too? That void?” Ackolyse went silent for a moment. The crystal brimmed more. "MmMm... Familiar, but I am uncertain. Deeper than they before, perhaps. The same direction. Away from the outpost. It does not deter. Perhaps on its own hunt as we are."

Sand burned away from his horse’s tracks. Ignitheus illuminated more and more. Knowing this, he forces himself to tone down his light to be less noticable. The crystal then surged and Ackolyse ‘pulled’ onto Ignitheus.

“There! Turn there! Yes. Keep going. It’s definitely her. But keep yourself quiet. There’s another unfamiliar source nearby…”

Ignitheus’ dreadsteed would clop through the sands and dunes. Tens of yards closer to the shrouding void.

Closer to Ahvie.

[ignitheus]

“The person that always smiles is the one to always be wary of.”

[pyro-baby]

[ignitheus]

Are you normally this hot?

Is that a serious question to ask a walking bonfire?

[ignitheus]

[ignitheus]

Chaos-Driven Memories

(This is a 2 in 1 story containing Ignitheus’ experience in Darkshore and efforts at the siege of Lordaeron. As such, it’s a long narrative.)

Ignitheus gazed over the war zone in front of Lordaeron’s entrance as he stood on the walls’ balcony. Staff sheathed to his back, his body was cloaked in flames with shoulder pads that ignited with volcanic spikes. In place of a fleshed out face, a hood and his burning skull obscured it. His eye sockets filled with fire within them bore into the conflict that reined down below. Scarlet and dark violet robes covered the entirety of his body, with gloves and footwear in the same color scheme.

Normally, he was a bright light in any cave, but today was different. They were mere embers. Discouraged. At another time, conflict like this with chaos ensuing was entertaining to watch and get involved in.  But here? It was pointless. The Alliance outnumbered the Horde tens of hundreds to a mere few hundred. Even the war cry ‘For the Horde’ didn’t sound reassuring. For the most part, Ignitheus held no loyalty to Sylvanas, the current Warchief of the Horde. When the call to arms was sounded, however, both he and his unit, The Relentless Dawn, had little choice but to go.

“I should not even be here. Not after-...”

***Darkshore – Several days ago***

The sky was red and orange. Ashes fell from the sky like snow. Teldrassil was burning in the far distance opposite of Darkshore’s coastline. There were screams of pain and terror of both the dead and dying. The captured Kaldorei’s wailing in grievance and pleas for the Horde to rescue their relatives. Ignitheus looked around to the nearby forces of the Horde. This act against the tree, out of nowhere, stunned nearly half of them. He couldn’t tell if the expressions were of awe or displeasure. The other half cheered and roared in their “victory” and turn of events away from the initial goal: to capture Teldrassil as a foothold. Not to burn it.

There was no honor in this.

Ignitheus was a pyromancer, and in all his years of warfare, this was one tree fire he did not find an appeal to. In fact, it angered him. So many unnecessary deaths of civilians from Darkshore and Teldrassil combined. Despite Saurfang’s control over half of the troops to capture civilians, Sylvanas’ half instead had cut down most of what they tried to save. The distant screams of civilians from the top of the tree as they burned alive hit Ignitheus to the core. It made him realize something that only made his views in the war far worse.

Sylvanas’ Horde assault on Darkshore was the same in comparison to Arthas’ Scourge during the Fall of Silvermoon, and the grand tree’s destruction was similar to the loss of the Sunwell. Darkshore was ransacked near entirely. So was Quel’thalas. The attack on Teldrassil was like removing a large percentage of the Kaldorei race. The same for his own people.

***Ruins of Lordaeron – Present time***

Ignitheus shook his head. He felt nothing could gain from this war. Especially not from remembering Teldrassil. His emotions overtook and broke him upon returning to Orgrimmar after Darkshore’s assault. He couldn’t risk that happening again. Not here where his attention to survive was needed. He needed his mind off of this and carried himself to the war zone. With a small group of three, he traveled to the outskirts of the battlefield. If he couldn’t save people on Darkshore, perhaps he could here. Forsaken, anyway.

Hurriedly, his group of one Orc warrior and Troll priestess rushed from one abandoned home after another for any survivors, but with no luck. They found none but fresh corpses splayed in corners. Someone else was cleaning these homes before they got here... and just as the trio returned outside, the hairs on Ignitheus’ arms rose as he felt something electric whisk behind him.

The Orc saw the enemy before Ignitheus did; charging towards a Dwarf shaman with blade and shield up. The troll began counterattacking a Lightforged Draenei with holy fire. For Ignitheus, a Worgen caked in fel casted fel-fire bolt in which Ignitheus was able to deflect. What caught Ignitheus’ main attention, however, was a Forsaken’s head strapped to the human’s hip. Now he was pissed.

Ignitheus turned his staff into a large scythe covered in fire and slashed upwards to send a crescent of flame surging towards the warlock. He heard an exclamation in Common, which he assumed was a curse, but pressed on in his assault. The warrior to his side was electrocuted by a bolt of lightning and crushed by earth, but not before lopping the dwarf’s head off in the last ditch effort before dying. The priest’s body spilled along the floor in her own blood. Now he was beyond pissed.

Slashing a cut from side to side in front of the remaining human and Draenei, a wall of orange fire rose skyward. Ignitheus backed away and sheathed his scythe as he heard an exchange of Common and a yell. He dashed forwards and jumped through the flames and grasped both the human’s and the Draenei’s unsuspecting faces. “Burn to nothing,” he whispered. Fire erupted from his palms and combusted both enemies as it rushed along their skin and underneath their armor; roasting them alive until they were nothing but charred bodies.

Ignitheus pushed the corpses aside just as two additional troops, one plated and the other leathered, rushed forward from afar. A third was overconfident and rushed to his blind spot. Reacting in time, he unsheathed his scythe and slashed horizontally through the clothed Draenei. It would have been a clean cut if it hadn’t been her blade accidentally finding its mark on his shoulder. He growled through pain and turned his rage onto the incoming pair. Erupting once more, he extended his arms out to the side and dived into the ground feet first. A batch of fire swerved and slithered across the scattered burning ground like a snake, and stopped at the plated enemy’s feet. He stretched his hands out, grasped around the human’s ankles and forcefully pulled the plated man into the ground with him; his body burning through the intense flames. A chuckle slipped the pyromancer’s maw.

As Ignitheus rose back out in front of the remaining enemy, seeing fear flush through the woman’s face, a dagger was thrown to his leg before fleeing. It hit its mark, but not without the warlock creating a set of demonic fiery chains and throwing it at the retreater. The binding coiled around their body, which seared against her leather equipment. The pyromancer gave a final tug to pull and drag the writhing the human to the ground towards him, unsheathed once more, and slashed his scythe at the body to end their life.

Ignitheus turned back and walked to the human warlock he had cut down. He knelt to the forsaken head and ripped it free from the belt. He placed it on the ground, ignited it in flames and whispered a prayer. He scanned through the scorched warzone he created, then stood back up and took his leave back to Lordaeron.

Perhaps he will find entertainment in this war after all.

[ignitheus]

To the Fel and Back

(This is a story I made about 2 years ago at the beginning of the Legion expansion, and its setting took place on the initial Broken Shore assault. It’s was also my first story and now somewhat revised.

At the time of the story, his own battalion was the Phoenix Highguard, though changed into The Relentless Dawn before BfA’s release. The battle on Quel’dannas took place in a cross-faction RP campaign on Emerald Dream.

To some, this story may give insight how Ignitheus thinks and behaves.)

The air felt tainted like the light was being sucked into the void. The flames on his back swayed side to side uneasily. Even Ackolyse, the ‘Mr. Hyde’, as compared to some human stories, felt the unsettling atmosphere. Consulting to Kercor, his Observer - floating bookworm, for insight on this change of energy and got the same feeling Ignitheus had. It was somewhere far away. Fel. Death. THEM. Even after all of that, he was still in disbelief. Despite the havoc in his brain, he still had to focus on this annoying war these humans placed upon us.

A large battalion of the Alliance had assaulted the Isle of Quel’dannas with the clear motive to destroy the Sunwell. Fortunately, other parties of the Horde answered the plea to assist in defending the Sunwell Plataeu. As the days went by, Ignitheus’ concerns only got worse. This time, he consulted with other warlocks, which they too had the same answer. He assumed his Commander, Tarenor Swiftsawn already knew, so he did not bother bringing it up. Even if he did, it would be just another problem on their already-filled plate and cause major panic within the battalion... but he didn’t have to. Rumors were already spreading about the unnerving sensations of dread and the bright green light somewhere east of Stormwind, and soon it reached Hillsbrad to both the Horde and Alliance. The skirmish was forcefully halted and for good reason.

The Burning Legion had returned.

Eventually, the Highguard grouped up and waited for the order to embark. Warlocks from the Highguard conversed about these turn of events. With the demon influence and taint in the air, surely they would have the upper hand against this threat. With the call to leave sounded, they headed for the ships. Ignitheus saw many faces on that ship. Ackolyse felt many emotions. There was no hint of positivity on that ship, let alone any hope, nor could he blame them. Everyone was in fear. Even as they arrived on the darkened atmosphere of the Broken shore, Fel cannons shooting at incoming ships from left and right, the usual ‘For the Horde’ war-cry had hints of hesitation and terror. -No one- was ready for this.

The approach was chaotic. A few ships burned on the shoreline after being blasted Fel cannons; bodies burning by its fire as screams of those injured and dying filled the air. There were so many demons ahead of us. So much blood that was not his after catching a thrown goblin. As soon as he burned his first felhound to a crisp however, that fear all but evaporated. Here, Ignitheus was against demons. Not people. Not living beings that have family and kids to look after. Here he could let loose.

Here... he could have fun.

Ignitheus burned one demon after another; cutting through with the blade of his scythe. Thier own cries of pain with each attack. In the distance, we watched as Tirion Fordring died, and for once in many years, both the Horde and Alliance worked together on separate landmasses to take down the large demon that which killed Tirion. The Legion’s forces were endless. Even after defeating that large demon, the Legion’s progress never faltered. Not even a flinch. They still kept coming; un-wavered. Mortals were getting restless.

One soldier of the Horde after another dying by fel-blades... but when the Warchief had fallen, his body burned with rage, and as the call to retreat was given by Sylvanas, so too did the Highguard. Forming ranks properly for once, the Highguard fended off the demons as they fled. As soon as the warlocks sent Infernals crashing onto the demons; the Legion’s own creations being used against them, the order to run was given and every soldier in the Highguard hauled ass back to the ship. Giving everything they had at that last defensive push gave them enough time to make it on the ships and sail back to Orgrimmar.

Everyone was in bad shape. Crying and moaning were the only sounds on the battleship as standby medical units did what they could to the injured, despite their own conditions to deal with. Ignitheus had fun in that onslaught but used up so much energy and almost felt drained. It was clear he needed more practice, as much as he could before the brutal days ahead. It will be brutal for the Horde. The Alliance. Everyone.

No one expected this to happen. The call had been given, and now they must answer it... to the bitter end.

[ignitheus]

“The more Light you use to heal, the more entertainment I have with you…”

[ignitheus]

“Give them Hell”. That’s child’s play.                                                                  I will show what true Hell really is…

[ignitheus]

Fire is vibrantly alive. It eats everything from wood to flesh, excreting the waste as ash, and it breathes air just like a human, taking in oxygen and emitting carbon. Fire grows, and as it spreads, it creates new fires that spread out and make new fires of their own. Fire drinks gasoline and excretes cinders, it fights for territory, it loves and hates. Sometimes when I watch people trudging through their daily routines, I think that fire is more alive than we are – brighter, hotter, more sure of itself and where it wants to go. Fire doesn’t settle; fire doesn’t tolerate; fire doesn’t ‘get by.’ Fire does. Fire is.

Dan Wells, I Am Not A Serial Killer

[ignitheus]

0:39 When the flames begins to build 0:55 And the rage begins to rise. 1:10 When the adrenaline increases, 2:18 Nothing will stop my rampage and their demise.

[ignitheus]

Vengeance for Quel’thalas

All is burned and scattered My trust has been betrayed The price of all that mattered Is one that cannot be paid. I have burned all the dead But they have not gone in vain For all that I’ve suffered I will bring them endless pain. My heart has grown scorched And my soul has become numb I will have my vengeance Now see what I’ve become.