#dinthoqaf

[dinthoqaf]

Silvermoon TP!

Seeking help! We're in dire need of Vendors. We are currently at only 50% capacity. 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝑜𝓈𝓉

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇'𝓈 𝒱𝑒𝒾𝓁 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃!

✦ 「𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧」

- 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Dinthoqaf the Defiler - An opportunity to support our fine city's economy! With vendors, food, drinks, and even a Gift Exchange (Raffle!)

𖤓 「𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧」

- Date: - Saturday, December 6th - Time: - 6:00pm [PST] | 8:00pm [CST] | 9:00pm [EST]

𖤓 「𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞」

-# [WRA] The Bazaar, Silvermoon City

𖤓 「𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬」

- This is a server-wide event for the Hordies trying to bring a bit more life to the city of Silvermoon! What we're aiming to have: - Vendors - Gift Raffles; including Mounts, Mogs and 'Baskets' of Goods! - Vendor Poll with voting to see those vendors get some real gold for their hard-working efforts! - [MG and WRA both invited to attend!]

𖤓 「𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬」

-# [WRA] Dinthoqaf -# [WRA] Zalilirah/Nezzok

𖤓 「𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬」

-# Server Link

𝑊𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!

[thalanilbloodcrest]

Itsy Bitsy Spider

His pulse thumped in his ears as he stood over the dead nerubian. Panic washed over him as he tried to recall how it all happened. The trilling noises of Azj-Kahets denizens screamed in his ears over his pulse. His hands slapped against his ears in an attempt to drown it all out, as shaking footsteps carried him back away from the body till his back came into contact with the rocky wall face he had once been trying to hide against when it all started. They had left for the night, both mother and father to whatever obligation they had entered themselves into which left himself free to slip away and make one of his many solo trips down into the depths of Azj-Kahet. It should have been like any other time. Keeping to the shadowed outskirts of Dornogal till he arrived at the tunnel that would take him to even darker shadows that would be filled with strange plants, insects and even the occasional conversation with certain Nerubians that didnt understand that he himself was not supposed to really be out in such a place alone as he was. But their lack of understanding about the soft pink fleshed thing before them was used to his advantage to mill about the suspended platforms of their cities, listening in and learning the strange and fascinating language they spoke. This alone allowed him to garner some information on where the best places to find many of the specimens of insects he had cataloged while down here.

But this time he might have wandered a bit to far, been much to engrossed in his studies that he did not realize how close he had gotten to those Nerubians settlements that did not care for the outsiders being here, intruding on their domain. And his usual brand of luck that often made his seem invisible to many threats on his sneaking abouts apparently had run out. Spotted and through the broken words he did manage to understand he knew that he was in serious trouble. The sound of spindled legs catching up to him as he pushed himself through tight, dark crevices in hopes it would deter his pursuer only to come out the other side of the crevice to be face to face with his soon to be assailant. Multiple eyes shone in the dim light taking him in as sharpened mandibles twitched and clacked. Words being spoken to fast for him to interpet them in the frantic moment of being caught. He tried to push back into the crevice once more, trying to flee back to where he should have been in the first place, bored at home and surrounded by books. Why was it that these trips meant so much, these small hours of discovery picking at his brain learning and testing himself, why were they so important?! But all those thoughts were cut short as he felt clawed fingers snag him and paw at him as he was wretched from the crevice. He yelped as he was pulled free and hoisted off the ground, legs swinging and kicking as if it mattered. His hands tore at the arms holding him in some vain attempt at freedom, terrified with tears streaming down his face, glasses long since knocked off and cast to the ether of this place. And then there was a wet squelch and the Nerubian became still, its hands still holding tight to Thal'anil but now it made these movement as if afflicted with deep hiccups that shook its body in quick jarring motions. And then he saw the tendrils that began to snake up around the creature, tightening around its body, squeezing and pushing underneath its carapace plates to protrude out of other points in its body. Blood and other wet things falling in loud moist noises to the ground it began to loose its footing and topple down to the ground. Thal'anil falling out of its grasp. And that is where he was now. This dead being in front of him. He was so sure that the trouble he would find himself in would be immeasurable but how to rectify it, how to .....and then in his panic he had been so unaware of the other person that had come along until a large meaty hand set down upon his shoulder. "Da f'ok kid" Shadow tendril lashed out at the arm attached tothe hand that touched him, squeezing and boring though it till it severed from its owner. The weight of it hung from his body as the hand still gripped him despite being severed. "Holeeh shit boy-o! Man she weren't kiddin when she said she done got rid o all dat shadah an it musta went right inta ya." the voice broke out into a cackling laughter. Thal'anil turned now as if coming to the realization that the immediate danger was paused for the moment. "Nezzok?" the question came out in more of a squeak than he would have hoped. "Ju f'okin luckeh it be boy-o. Naht dat ya couldn' da well nough on ya own from da looks o it." The gigantic troll tower over the boy as he always did, now though he reached out and took the severed arm that still clung to the boys shoulder and crammed it back against the stump, letting the limb work to reattach itself. Once satisfied he crouched down next to the boy, his words changing over to Thalassian, albeit spoken like a tourist but understandable enough. "What are ya doing out here this far from tha city?" "I got side tracked I suppose and then.." "Ya cant afford to do that ya know? Not only cause ya mother would shit cats but ya arent trained to be out here like this. Impressive as that was to watch it was only one of them. " "I know but..how did I even do that? What was even all that? And what did you mean by her getting rid of shadow, are you talking about mom?"

Nezzok laughed "Ya probably did that cause like lotsa ya kind ya have some magical ability, especially given who ya parents are. Secondly it looked to be some sort of shadow magic and the last part is not my part to say cause I dont want to listen to ya mother screech in my ear for forty days and nights. " He put a meaty hand back on the kids shoulder this time not having to worry about it being severed in a state of panic. "Look, for what ever reasons ya mother and my brother wish to let ya an ya siblings live like normal people. And as much as I'd love to see ya raised into killing machines I will not piss ya pops off. Ya mom I could care less bout if shes mad or not but ya pops I do care." "We're gonna get ya home, where ya gonna stay besides school an if ya folks take ya out. "

Thal'anil began to protest this but was stopped before he could really start. "For ya own good. Now, I will speak to ya parents and should they be agreeable ya can come ta Zul'Mashar for a while and I will have someone to help ya get a grip on what ya got going on. Plus ya can do some work with Tamaku and tend ta da Mindless Cousins. Plus Im sure ya aint took any time ta come see what we got festering in the Plaguelands so far as bugs be concerned now have ya?" Thal'anil thought for a moment, his gaze going between Nezzok and the dead Nerubian a few times. "Okay." he answered. That was all Nezzok needed to hear before he stood up and pulled a knife from his side and sliced through the air causing a rift to tear open, something Thal'anil was accustomed to at this point given how long Nezzok had been in his life. "Um...Nezzok?" "Hm?" "Is there any way...would it be weird if I asked to..to take the head back with us. Purely to study!" Nezzok laughed, his response falling back into that broken orcish that had him sounding like he had a mouthful of rocks "Aye, aye. Ya a creepy lil bastard Ah give ya dat but Ah like dat kiddo." He went over and in a smooth twist popped the head off the body and carried it with him back to the rift. "C'mon, b'fer long dere will beh othahs come long...dere deaths attract othahs ta come collect da bodehs." He ushered Thal'anil through the rift and it closed up behind them.

[vyvienne]

It has been a whirlwind of activity in the last few days. My room is finally finished and all of my things moved into the Damp which is pleasant in many ways.

Unlike the Silvermoon Inn, which regularly hosts parties and events for the Sin’dorei locals, the Damp is a quiet refuge with an extravagant library and food or drink as desired. The Nameless seem to keep everything not only properly running but well stocked and clean. Or I assume it is the Nameless. No dust gathers in my room or on any other surface. It is like having an army of invisible scullery, cooks and other needed workers without ever knowing their name or anything about them. I assume, of course, that the Defiler knows about them. It is a rather odd place to be, having people around me I personally have not vetted or know. It takes a bit of personal acclimation I wasn’t aware I would need. One more area of growth.

Since everything is essentially taken care of, I had time to attend the World Faire Carnival this year. I admit to being slightly overwhelmed with the people, light and noise around me, feeling a bit out of place and suddenly two Sin’dorei swooped in and rescued me. Again, an odd place for me to be. I am still getting used to this facade and it’s forever interesting to have these new experiences.

Lady Naralinthe Emberdawn and Lord Veronath Sunscorn rescued me quite pleasantly and we attended a theatre production together. There was a musical selection beforehand which made the entire visit worthwhile. I sadly had to leave as the production began but found a few moments to peruse the shops before leaving. I didn’t find anything I wished to buy, but I hope to get back before the Carnival is over this week.

It is an interesting life, if somewhat mundane lately. I suppose one should take the respite while it comes, for as soon as you become accustomed to quiet you find yourself on the edge of death again.

@themadamelioness @veronath

[nezzokthecollector]

My Brothers Keeper.

How many days had it been? Surely pressing more than a couple weeks now. Long before this point many others would have wished for absolution and begged for mercy, their soft fleshy bodies and weak wills unable to withstand the constant onslaught of hate filled assaults. But not him. Betrayal was not something he would give even a hint of. So may things had been instilled in him from the very first spark of memory with the Jin, cunning, cruelty, pride, evil things that most could never stomach but loyalty was highest of them all. And it was this loyalty to the Defiler, his brother that seemed to rile Ammaelin the most. It stoked the flames of his hatred making him give into recklessness in his torture. Of course next to this unwavering loyalty Nezzoks smart mouth only added fuel to this fire. Every smart ass remark, every taunt, every laugh and deriding comment only got him more pain inflicted upon him.

There would be times that the room would spin and fade to black nothingness with only the small and distant throb of the connection that he, the Defiler and the Weaver shared, like a life line that was barely tangible but enough to be like a small glint in the darkness. Only for the world to come back into color and focus to the agitated, crimson haired elf ready to work him over again. Each time he would start with his obnoxious questioning and half lies of how it didnt have to be like this, just give up where his brother was because this fight was with him not Nezzok. And when the laughter came or the laughter it cost Nezzok a lower arm then the other, then burnt flesh that clung to the air in the room like a heavy shroud, choking the guards that stood at their posts. Teeth and tusks broken, softer bits that would be irreplaceable to most living things loped off and discarded as if they werent replaceable once the Sanctum had come to retrieve him. Black blood stained the ground beneath him as he hung suspended, the glow of the font that kept him subdued reflecting off of it like black glass before it dried in layer after layer. Then like an oil lamp being lit and its wick lengthened the connection not only between him, the Defiler and Weaver but the Sanctum as a whole flared across his unconscious mind. He could hear the muffled exchanges around him as if his ears were filled with water but then he was moving, quickly. More talking and more moving before he was left to sink against something soft under his massive weight. At some point the brightness of where ever he had been taken roused him enough to crack an eye and try to figure out where he had been taken. The reds and golds and purples along with the small elf that sat writing in some book lead him to believe it was Silvermoon. He groaned "Fresh hell is dis? Sh-shoulda left meh ta die than beh here." How his brother hated him for his selfless act. He must be paying him back for all the spiders in the Weavers wardrobe...poor poor Nezzok.

[kelzthalasbandtherion]

( You've had your walls stripped bare and defenses torn asunder emotionally. What's the deepest truth you refuse to tell a soul about them or yourself? - Meant to be an IC response of course! It's not something Din would much ask someone, but didn't wanna do it anonymously either. lol )

"Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster, for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." - Friedrich W. Nietzche

It had to be a dream. There was no way there was just an end to all the fighting.

Labored breaths and a survey of their surroundings however did not mince the details to the altercation. The battle had ended and in its wake was silence and stillness. This was always what she had strove for. This... semblance of foreign peace. It didn't appear real. And she again looked for movement or a questionable shadow. Her hand reflexively tightening on the glaive she held until the hand of her father settled on her shoulder.

A firm squeeze was given with a muted assurance that what she was seeing was not a mistake. He had the experience to understand it, but she didn't. He had fought in battles and won. But in her case, she never had a victory. This... This didn't feel true.

"There must be-"

"It is over." He reaffirmed with a tone of finality. His blade was put to rest at his side as she couldn't believe him. Her father never dropped his guard! THIS WAS WRONG!

She searched for the position of her brother, Allasticus. Even he, one that was driven by bloodlust, had sheathed his blade. Though, his head hung as he stood over the remains of their young brother. This had to be some ploy or red herring.

The rubble beneath her feet crumbled as she moved in the direction where the Sanguine Sorceress had last been seen. Though the red was not something anyone could miss. It was a focal point in the dark and she was still as a statue - pinned into a wall by a blade. Those black lips of hers now had become an open fountain. Blood that had since been taken from others ran down over the curve of her white skin.

She was the monster that did not stop.

This wasn't Malakortana.

This was...

"Not convinced are you," quipped the familiar tone of the Nethermancer, Nixalegos. "Neither am I."

Before an answer could be offered, the nethermancer ignited the corpse of Malakortana with a deft motion of his hand. The flames of fel hungrily devoured the corpse of the she-devil. But her presence still lingered in the air, it was heavy to them both. Soulless or not, there was an aura about her. Even the blade that was mounted in her chest melted from the heat, ensuring that nothing would remain in its wake.

The Nethermancer was still moving, busying himself with his things and investigating the area. Yet, she struggled to find purpose now as this was not her field of expertise. All she knew was that this had been an ongoing ordeal for far too long. The flame, even if it had been snuffed, could burn again if a spark fell in the right place.

"Kelz."

Kal'ren's voice drew her out from the labyrinth of her thoughts, forcing her to turn to address him. He towered over her but had her well-being on his thoughts always. Though he was wise enough to not speak of it around others, generally.

"Let's take a look over here."

It was an invitation for salvation, one that she should have eagerly accepted. But the machinations of disappointment would fracture her reliance on others and her willingness to cope.

"I'm fine," she stated and sought to move away from him. But a clawed hand reached to take hold of her arm and stop her from moving away.

"You're not." He countered and his grip tightened like a vice. His inflection was seeking to appeal to her at the base of her own needs, and yet... she didn't want to believe the truth.

An ill-timed cough and sight of blackened blood left her lips. She could feel something. It stirred in response to her anger and reveled in it. Again, the coughing would continue as Kal'ren shifted to be closer in an effort to support her. He turned her to look at him, but she couldn't see him. A veil of shadows fell over her eyes, making them black to those who looked at her face.

Spurred by that of a holy mission, Naralinthe Emberdawn was running towards them.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Her voice cried out to Kal'ren, forcing all that had come to do battle to now converge at this place of potential contention.

Like a fire that had been housed in Kelz's chest, black smoke billowed up and out of her mouth as her arm roughly pulled from Kal'ren's grip. Hands sought to cover her own eyes as she strained to breathe against the miasma of her now tainted soul. The shadows would writhe in an effort to overtake her entirely, but her father did not stand idle as his hands pulled on hers so that she could be afforded a chance to see again.

But what he revealed was far more sinister. The color of his light, which manifested hope into strength now was seen as a blight in itself.

"YOU ARE THE MONSTER! YOU LET HER DIE! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU... ARE NO FATHER OF MINE! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING! MY MEMORIES, MY LIFE, AND MY HAPPINESS!"

Her head then turned towards Kal'ren now. "AND YOU! YOU HAD NEVER CARED! I WAS JUST A MEANS TO AN END. AND WHEN IT DIDNT WORK OUT, YOU BARTERED YOUR SOUL WITH A DEMON! LOVE WAS NEVER REAL, IT WAS FICTION! I'M JUST AN OBSESSION FOR YOUR FLAWS!"

Adonis's hands sought purchase on her shoulders, to roughly rattle her as the glow in his hands continued to ward of the influence of evil that encompassed her frame.

"This isn't you, my daughter!" He said, seeking to reason with her. He didn't want to lose her, not after everything else.

But fate had another answer to this disturbance as Naralinthe's blade found a place between Adonis and pierced through the surface of Kelz's armored chest. The decisive blow forced Kelz to fall to the ground as the shadows faded from the ethereal plane in which they had come.

Bereft with grief, Adonis tried to pull Kelz into his arms and placed his hand over the place of her fatal wound. But it did nothing to rouse her. And Kal'ren was forced to stay his claw as the Nethermancer shouted at him to stand down. Even Allasticus was prepared to stop his father, if the grief would turn into aggression towards Naralinthe. It was chaos within this party of allies, and only one knew the truth. Tears raced down her face as she looked to the younger ward, her friend, and potential family.

Like memories, her body would be confined beneath the earth next to her mother.

Years would pass as her eternal slumber had received all the preventative care and love the living could give her. But the evil that had taken hold of her that day would someday bring her back... You can either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

( @dinthoqaf - thanks so very much for this ask. Was fun to explore this.

Tagging: (Family first) @grumpyoldfker - sorry dad @allasticus - sorry bruh @lazraelbandtherion - you asked for this >:(

@kalren-daelish - :( I feel bad for you.

@sanguinesorceress (Youuuu) @themadamelioness :< BUT WHY MADAMEEEE - THE WHEEL OF TIME IS SO MEAN XD @nixalegos - I dont think I quite did your character justice, but ... I TRIED. You are so dang methodical, and I suspect he would have done more than this. XD )

[frostbitecontingent]

An Estate Cleared

Another Session cleared for the personnel of the Frostbite Contingent and Bloodcrest Family; catching up on two events separated by large server events and time. The Bloodcrest Family, lead by Ammaelin Bloodcrest seeking to redeem their name politically and ethically due to the evil doings of his now disowned brother, Dinthoqaf the Defiler, has been attacked by the Sanctum of the Forbidden due to its associations with the Frostbite Contingent. In an effort to destabilize the House further and to make sure support was pulled, a plethora of SotF Cultists lead by Lattimer the Devourer assaulted the compound and nearly wiped the House off the slate if it had not been for the timely arrival of the Contingent.  Initially leading the charge, Attzi ( @attzi-gearburst ), Kappi, ( @advancedscoutkappi ), Zokkine ( @piximae​ ), and Naturasu, came to the rescue of the estate and inhabitants as Ammaelin found himself going Head to Head against Lattimer. With quick work and precision, most of the estate was cleared but during the FBC’s confrontation and reinforcement of Ammaelin the cultists managed to secure one of the support structures that houses a particular treasure for the family, a font of power believed capable of healing miracles. Lattimer was defeated and forced to retreat, going to the captured structure where Elementium was magically summoned to taint the building and reinforce it, causing the FBC and Bloodcrests to call it here as they sought out solutions to the problem at hand. Time given way, the FBC and Ammaelin settled on the use of explosives to open the tower. With the decision made, a second gathering occurs with Ammaelin, Attzi, Zokkine, Kappi, Naturasu, Makosubi, and Dave ( @x-amanita-virosa-x ) where the building was blown open just to discover that the cultists within had already been killed and the Font within was being tainted by a Totem placed by them before their death. The team, in an effort to cleanse the place, enters only to discover Lattimer lying in wait amongst the dead, ambushing them! After a lengthy and dangerous melee with the The Devourer, he was defeated and the totem destroyed. Ammaelin now sets to discover the purpose of the act and everything the totem was doing while trying to make sure the Font is cleansed and can provide its healing waters for any pilgrims who come seeking it. The FBC now awaits anxiously to see if this news brings them any closer in rescuing their boss. [ Image taken of the team hiding behind Ammaelin Bloodcrest just before the explosives go off to get them into the Font’s Sanctuary! ]

[frostahesmegabite]

A Call to Arms

[ A new exerpt for the coming Campaign for the FBC! A small lead up story because I can't exactly duel box and rp with myself, so, I made a little story/scene out of it! Hope you enjoy! ]

A Call to Arms

A Call to Arms A heavy fist hammers into a desk cherry oak desktop, sending items up into the air as the top is splintered. “And this is t

[dinthoqaf]

The Mind Expands and Contracts

( Story point aimed to be before the current raid events, as this is during The Voidspire's assault and ending. ) Dinthoqaf stood upon one of the floating Silvermoon Terrace's, looking out over the vast city towards the Voidstorm. The look upon his features was one of heavy concentration and turmoil. What was going on up there? Only so many knew that were on this side of the storm. Many could guess, many had ideas, but how do you articulate the viewpoints of hundreds of people all at once? You could sit with a hundred scribes, each writing everything out all at once, and not come close to what The Defiler was currently screening out from the rest of his flock. The Nameless were up there along with some of his Anointed, fighting back the Storm and Devouring Host in some effort to try to escape, to pull back before the Voidstorm potentially snapped shut, or worse, erupted with an outpouring of such energy that the Devouring Host would live up to its name. The interference from The Void and Sunwell was playing havoc with The Sanguine. His connection was going lax and then snapping tight as it'd reconnect across the differences. People would disappear and then reconnect, some of them during something only veterans of horrific wars could recount in some fueled drinking session at the bar, recounting violent episodes of PTSD driven carnage. Monsters, Animals, Void-Amulgamations and Aberrations, Cultists, Ethereals. So many different creatures and enemies in this place coming from under the ground, from the 'Sky' (if one could call it that), and every other direction on foot. His Nameless were being slaughtered just trying to fight back the Voidstorm's mind-destroying influence and all these images rushed into The Defiler as some of them pleaded with their 'God' to save them, to make their death have meaning amongst the order to retreat. All he could do was cradle their consciousness in their last moments, sever their abilities to feel pain, to give them some moment of bliss as he led their last thoughts to their children, their spouses, to whatever memory made their minds slow and hearts calm. A horrific trick of illusion and mental tamperance, some would say, but what can a God do for a follower beyond making their final moments as peaceful as possible? They all knew that their children in the Academy would be tended for, and The Weaver ( @zalilirah ) was already on the path of making preparations to move those children elsewhere if it somehow became breached or under threat. The generations beyond would be protected as best they could, as was his promise made to each Nameless who swore their loyalty and faith.

The Prophet was already scouting secondary fallback positions in case Silvermoon was overrun and the elves were pushed out due to the Devouring Host or fallout if the Sunwell went supernova. The White Rose ( @vyvienne ), The Vile Shadow, Lewin, and so many others were on the other side of that portal into the Storm. People, Pieces, that could not nor would be replaceable, no matter who or what came after.

Nezzok was preparing Zul'Mashar in the event of a complete and total loss of the Region and Caer Darrow was being prepared too as a final fallback. He could not nor would not depend on the success of a group of elves who historically couldn't work together without in-fighting and he wouldn't be caught unprepared. How many people from Silvermoon would be displaced? How many would lose mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, or even children, because of everything currently going on? Even now, amongst the calamity, opportunity was being prov-.. Dinthoqaf hisses as his hands come to press against his temples. Another wave of connections reestablished as his Nameless were torn apart. Willpower came to push it back, to release the pressure to give him his train of thought. He needed his people out of there, but could not run the risk of The Sanguine being overloaded by walking into the Storm himself.

An exhausted sigh slips free. The weight of leadership had its gravitas, and this was one of the moments where the chains hung heavy. A chuckle comes free. Don't you remember when things like responsibility for others wasn't a concern?

"Yes, yes. I remember my days as The Seether. You ask this as if I'm as old as that scrote, Velen." A deep chuckle rumbles up from within but never leaves.

"Responsibility comes when we earn the position and have people looking to us for answers. Guidance. I am not Deathwing, Ragnaros, or any other of the hundreds of others who led their flocks and followers to their deaths without a care on what remains if they fail, let alone what remains on if they succeed. I need the Nameless and all of my Sanctum to remain as intact as possible if we manage to accomplish what I desire and to keep our grasp upon it. We cannot afford short sighted sprints; you should know this more than most after what? How long has it been now? Two hundred years? How many host bodies have we jumped between now too? Four? Five?"

Including your son's body that you took for yourself?

"Now you try to bring ethics into this?"

Quiet came back to his mind. A stalemate made or perhaps points by each side as the two refused to budge. Dinthoqaf was not alone anymore, or rather, he was never alone, but a voice that had once been lost now returned.

You realizes you can speak to me without opening your mouth, right, or have you forgotten?

"No, I didn't forget but it makes me feel less insane to converse verbally."

It certainly doesn't help in the appearance however...

It wasn't wrong there.

"We have other things to concentrate on; such as preparing teams for healing our Nameless once they come back, while minimizing our presence or being caught by the Army Remnants. We have to acknowledge that this may be what shows The Sanctum off to The World."