#feyrindora

[dajjalen]

November 2024 DWC Day 3 - Strength TW: spiders, some gore Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3

Dajjalen shot up like a rocket, gasping for air as he clawed at his chest and throat, only to be wrangled back down by Feyrindora. There was another presence nearby as well, he knew this aura well. Aerden’s eyes were like two small beacons of crackling lightning for just a brief moment before they closed and the young elf collapsed onto his side.

“Fucking fel, I just bloody saved him.” Dajjalen immediately checked for breathing; it was shallow, but it was there.

“He just bloody saved -you-, asshole. From death. He saved me too.” Fey brought him into a tight hug, “I thought I lost you, I couldn’t… I didn’t want to lose anyone else. You’re not gonna die on me on my watch.”

It was then that Dajjalen realized they were not yet safe, nor were any of them in good condition. Aerden was unconscious, and both he and Fey had noticeably gaping wounds all over from where the toxin of the webs had managed to eat away flesh. It would have been much worse if their skin wasn’t toughened by years of housing their internal companions.

“We need to get out of here. …We need -him-.” She gave him a pointed look, he knew what she meant.

These days Dajjalen tried to avoid changing, the hunger became insatiable, gnawing at his insides and he wasn’t sure that these undercrawlers were going to sate that need. He felt less in control, but that was the purpose, wasn’t it? They needed strength, absolute destruction, and felfire if they were to get out of here in one piece. She was right. “Please guard him well, he’s important to me. I need you to just run and not look back.” He pointed up towards a larger crack on the other side of the cavern. “I’ll get their attention, you just go. I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t so sure about that last bit.

Fey kissed the gruff man on his cheek and scooped Aerden up with ease, cradling him close to her chest as she waited.

He was severely injured and running on pure adrenaline at this point, not to mention he had just been brought back from the brink of death. But this is what demon hunters were made for. They were killing machines meant to annihilate anything in their paths with little care for themselves.

Dajjalen hobbled out from the alcove they were hidden within and wasted no time in dashing towards a group of the spider-like creatures blocking their path. He lept into the air and crashed down right in the middle of the group as an eruption of felfire spreading from him in every direction. Now nearly doubled in size, Dajjalen took on the appearance of that internal companion: A Doomguard - Elongated horns, cloven hooves, tough leathery wings, and razor sharp teeth and claws. He was already a formidable opponent before his metamorphosis, but this allowed the extra burst of adrenaline and the overwhelming urge to destroy everything. Claws and teeth were sharper, skin was tougher, and everything he touched would alight with fel.

Now that everything in this cavern had its attention turned towards her fellow hunter, Fey darted through the shadows towards their target opening with Aerden shielded and kept close. They would make it without issue, crawling up the spongy ramp towards the light above only to find themselves in a MUCH larger, foreign cavern. There was no time to look, instead she dashed towards some nearby rocks, crouching behind them as she set the young elf down and waited at the ready in case she needed to join in the fight.

Green flashes of felfire flickered through the porous material of the nest below and just as Fey was about to re-enter, Dajjalen came dashing out in a crackling blaze. “WE HAVE TO RUN!” Behind him, the entire colony seemed to be in literal hot pursuit; some of the undercrawlers on fire and running madly in an attempt to douse themselves.

“We could take the–” Fey’s words were cut short when the entire nest seemed to rumble and shake beneath them. A MASSIVE, jagged claw ripped up through the permeable membrane, slamming its spiked toe down just shy of Dajjalen. “Yep, running!” she scooped up Aerden once more and sprinted as fast as she could towards anything else.

Another jagged claw slammed down just behind her, and a brief glance over her shoulder offered a glimpse of Dajjalen now taking to the skies and swooping towards her, and a monstrous undercrawler: The Broodmother.

Fey reached her arm upwards, hand open and waiting as she continued to run. As soon as Dajjalen’s claws curled around her forearm, she gripped him tight and tucked her legs in as the three soared up into the cavern and away from Pillar-nest Xesh. None of them had any idea where they were, or where they were going, but anywhere was better than there.

@aerdendios @daily-writing-challenge

[dajjalen]

August DWC 2024 Day 6 - Corruption

“It had to be done, Dajj. It’s what he would have wanted. It’s what any of us would want when it’s our time.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean it’s going to sit well with me.” The demon hunter murmured around his cigarette, reclining back against Feyrindora’s couch. She was a fellow demon hunter he had met early in his journey, and one of the first to join the demon hunter only crew he had formed. It was as much of a support group as it was a mercenary crew at this point given their numbers were dwindling. Many felt their purpose here had been fulfilled and it was their time to pass on, whether that meant dying on the field or finally giving into their corruption and feeding their brethren in the process.

Earlier tonight had been the latter. Erien was older than Dajjalen, but their stories were quite similar. They had both lost their family to the Legion, and both had wanted and taken their vengeance by becoming…this. He was tired of fighting against what felt natural, and he decided it was his time to finally reunite with his family in the afterlife. It was always better and safer to do it on your own terms rather than having the demon within take hold out on the field of battle when you were supposed to have the backs of your fellow hunters.

Feyrindora plucked the cigarette from between his lips and ashed it in the tray before helping herself to a lengthy drag. Even Fey had a similar story, they all did. There was always heavy loss involved, no one in their right mind would have chosen to become this; to do what they had to do in order to become this and maintain this. It was a constant inner battle, sated only for the briefest of moments before the cravings once more took hold.

There were times when Dajjalen thought himself ready to give in, to finally be able to move on, but there was something that kept him tethered here. Against all odds, he had found himself a new family and a new purpose. The pain of loss still lingered, but it happened a lifetime ago. Would his wife or his children be disappointed he had become this because of them? It wasn’t fair to them to end it all without trying, without continuing on for them. When he finally did find them in the afterlife, he wanted them to be proud of him for being so strong.

So for now he remained, and he led, and he helped others of his kind find their new reason for being. Much like Fey. There were feelings there neither of them wanted to admit, but after difficult times such as this, they always found themselves together.

She extended a clawed hand down to him, “C’mon big man, let’s get some air.” She smiled at him, sharpened teeth peeking from behind blood red lips.

He took her hand, but instead pulled her down onto his lap. Tender moments were few and far between when one constantly felt the need to feed and give in to the fel ready to boil over. He felt good right now despite the reasons for it, but it wouldn’t last. At least for now, he craved these sentimental moments.

@daily-writing-challenge