#eytian

[eytiansunscorn]

Die.

Az’kruggoth’s multi-eye beam bore down into Eytian’s hardened flesh, he kept trying to move but chains kept him shackled to something out of sight.

You are weak. Just like your mother and sister.

The beam tore down into his flesh, he could feel the intense burning sensation overtaking his scaled limbs, a green light flooding his vision-

He awoke in a sweat, chest rising and falling as he panted heavily. The world around was blurry a moment, then the green swirls seemed to align themselves so he could make out the shapes of people. Without a sound, Eytian brought himself to an upright sitting position on the edge of his bed. Xil was laid out on the bed pressed to wall opposite himself, face half-smushed into the pillow. Looking up, he could see Vero snoozing gently above him. Looking around, he saw dotted life signatures all around the surrounding forest. None looked particularly intimidating- the most unusual being a thin-looking canine shape a good hundred feet from the back porch. 

Standing slowly, his bare feet fell against the cold floor. To his surprise, a hissing emitted from underfoot. Confused, Eytian re-examined the scene. There was a singed mark on his bed in the shape of his body, realizing only now that he was immensely and quite literally heated.

Heading for the back door, he stepped out into the cool night air. His half-naked form and the loose fitting pajamas tied to fit his waist allowed his body to cool off quickly, only a few holes burnt into the borrowed sleeping trousers. They were of course meant for someone with a much wider figure than he, the waist being a few sizes too big for him, only fitting him thanks to some pieces of an abandoned lead from the stables in the backyard. Az’kruggoth was silent now, thankfully. It was not often his demon spoke up, but when it did it was always backed by a fair bit of power. Az’ seemed to bide his willpower in between mental attacks, then come at full force when he could-

Kneel before the might of the Burning Legion.

When Eytian regained his senses and pushed the vision of Az’kruggoth from his mind, he was on his hands and knees somewhere in the woods. In front of him lay an emaciated carcass, canine in nature. Eytian’s hands were covered in blood. This time was unlike any time Az’ had tried to enter his mind before- surely if he had gained control he would not have made Eytian strike out against a coyote. It was all so strange…

He dared not risk sleep again. Walking back to the porch and washing up, Eytian decided meditation may be what he needed right now. He would head out to feed again in the morning. He’ll need all the reserved power he can muster...

Mentions: @xilarian and @glowanddaggers

[eytiansunscorn]

A stroll down Memory Lane

Gravel crumbs and settled ash crunched delicately underfoot, even despite the light grace of the step that laid upon them. The Dead Scar was as welcoming as it had always been since Arthas and his forces had tread through it so many years before. The cloaked Sin’dorei had just returned to this land and traveling south down the Dead Scar was only bringing back old memories. Old estates laid in ruin alongside the burnt blemish upon their land, though there was one in particular that the elf was looking for that lay just a bit further ahead.

A quick hop and a slide across a few pieces of crumbled roofing left him before the scene that he was hoping to find: a large estate, the ceiling seeming to have fallen directly inward on itself. Some of the walls still stood around the outer edge, though not entirely intact. Pieces of a wooden fence were scattered around the area that used to be a garden, having been reduced unwillingly to a compost pile years before; the area laid as a patch of uneven dirt. It kept the imprint of his footstep upon it, one of the few hints that he had come this way- the rest of his tracks were covered.

Eytian’s now dirt-laden boot left a dust-tinted footprint upon the base of the wall he had just scaled to get within the perimeter of the old building. He drew his cloak back, his long horns coming into clearer sight- not that they were effectively hidden before, the hood not offering much visual contortion of such a bulky facial accessory. His fingertips drew along a table that appeared to be barely standing, a small amount of pressure applied to one corner caused it to tilt unsteadily; the legs of course were uneven. He remembered the table fondly, now gently placing his full palm against it. The familiar grooves in the wood…

He looked to a crumpled bed frame cradling a rotted and no doubt rat-infested mattress. A step closer and the dank smell of mildew filled his nostrils, no doubt emanating from the former sleeping arrangement. He outstretched a long and clawed hand to the headboard, pushing it back against the wall so it no longer tilted. Carved beautifully in the wood was the name:

‘Sunscorn’

Though he could no longer see it, his gnarled fingers ran along the grooves in the wood. His heightened senses picked up every last detail through the touch, all the way to the end of the ‘n’ where a splinter threatened to dig its way into Eytian’s pinkie- a mission he did not allow it to accomplish. He plucked the annoyance from his smaller finger with his other hand, letting it fall to the cracked stone flooring beneath him. The area was so quiet, he could swear he heard the miniscule shard of wood connect with the ground. He walked to the other end of this room-well, where it used to be. Many trophies lay shattered upon the floor, their placards telling well the accomplishments of those they used to belong to:

‘Healthiest Clutch’

‘Longest Wingspan’

‘Sharpest Beak’

‘Most Intellig-’

‘-t in Show’

Some were broken, but Eytian still scooped up the pieces of bronze after feeling the engravings in each one over. Setting them off into his side-satchel, he felt the need to cry. No tears would come, as no eyes were in place and any ducts to release water were painfully scarred over. He shook himself out of this haze- now was not the time to fall prey to such memories. Moving again, he walked to the back door of the estate in search of a single monument: the last thing he left in this place before he left for the Outlands.

Walking down the stairs at the back door, his nonexistent eyes fixated on a rectangular stone object in the center of the small courtyard. He kneeled, reaching down to touch a knuckle to the engravings on the object.

Albion Sunscorn, “The Dragonhawk”

“Has it really been years?” Eytian wondered, memories flashing through his head of how things used to be. He would raise the young hatchlings with his father, then send them off to be assessed and hopefully admitted to the ranks of the Dragonhawk-mounted Cavalrymen. He remembered fondly of how his father gave the young Eytian his first job as a Dragonhawk Keeper outside of Falconwing Square, and of how he misdirected his first client all the way to a roof somewhere on the northern end of the city. He remembered how he had grown adept at riding the beasts, entering competitions and tournaments before eventually joining the Cavalry himself. His father was in every memory, proud as ever with every new achievement that he accomplis-

In this moment, Eytian realized he had been clutching the gravestone. His body was convulsing in the same way it would be if he was crying, his breathing rapid and inconsistent. Letting go of the headstone now, his hands clutched at the dirt beneath it. He slowly lowered himself down onto it, wishing for one last hug goodbye. Something. Anything to finalize the loss of his father, even a broken word or a passing smile or a few last words, please, just something...

His mind stopped moving at such a rapid pace, remembering as to how he was so unfairly cheated of that opportunity. He looked sadly upon the spectacle, lifting his torso only enough so that his altered vision could almost make out the grooves in the stonework, if just to read his name one last time.

Suddenly, a flood of alarm filled his thoughts. The Legion was back, in Hillsbrad. He sprung up, knowing it would not be the last time he would visit this place. With a few quick words, Agrodel sprung from a nearby resting spot and reluctantly ran to the Demon Hunter’s aid. They took off from the area, the house almost exactly as he had found it- save a few broken shards of bronze and one lonely boot-print looking lost in the side garden.