#hallow's end

[eluviannaa]

Happy Hallow's End!

What If? Elu as Cosmic Ghost Rider 👁️✨

[sad4ppleart]

These city gates are guarded, buddy! You're not getting in alive

spooky halloween piece of the boys!! whats more halloween than! uh murder

[skymagpieart]

Witch Shazi and (Dis)Count Dracula Khadgar are all dressed up in tacky Halloween outfits and waiting for trick or treaters at Karazhan! 🎃

[galderthefuzzy]

Hallow's End

Hallow's End, the spooky holidays! Some love it, some hate it. For Bahu it's the favorite day of the year. She's very good with knives and loves to carve things. Pumpkins.. of course pumpkins. It has nothing to do with the fact that she is a Grimtotem and also loves blades.. and curses!

That's a pure coincidence. On second thought, perhaps avoid Bahu during Hallow's End. She set my pumpkins on fire last year, who knows what she could do this time. I'm just a slightly late to the show with my Halloween piece. But better late than never, yes? I have just recently recruited Bahu among my minions, and had to introduce her in style. A Grimtotem Witch? Just the perfect season for her. And her transmog is just so fitting! Yet again, I have used mostly just my trusty painting brush!

I hope you like how she turned out!

[kottkrig]

It's the 31st, happy birthday to every single Forsaken

[lightsfeather]

“The Sound Beneath Scholomance” - A Hallow's End Short #3

The school had been abandoned.

That’s what they told her.

Scholomance had been purged, they said. Sealed, twice over. The last cultists of Kel’Thuzad hunted down, their bones scattered, their names erased. The Light had reclaimed the surface of Caer Darrow—quiet now, cradled by lake and mist.

But the girl, young, sharp, and faithful, was sent anyway.

She was to catalog what remained. Scrolls, relics, bones. Nothing more.

Two weeks. No longer.

She descended alone.

It started with the chalkboard.

Scratched faintly into it was a phrase:

“We still have class.”

She rubbed it away with the sleeve of her robe.

It came back the next day.

Same words. Same curve of the handwriting.

But this time—her own name was beneath it.

The longer she stayed, the harder it was to breathe.

The torches refused to stay lit for long.

Books rewrote themselves in the night.

She heard footsteps in the hall, dragging slow and wet, like something moving on broken knees.

And always—just beneath the silence—a sound.

Low.

Rhythmic.

Like someone… sobbing.

But it wasn’t in the halls.

It was coming from behind the walls.

She tried to leave on the fifth night.

The stairwell was gone.

Not blocked.

Not crumbled.

Gone.

The stone wall was smooth and unbroken. Her maps twisted into inkblots. Her food turned to ash. Her hearthstone pulsed like a heart. warm, wet, wrong, and cracked open like an egg.

Inside was her own face.

Eyes closed.

Mouth sewn.

Sobbing.

She stopped sleeping.

The light never returned.

But the school kept teaching.

Each morning, new lessons appeared:

“How to Breathe Without Lungs”

“Smiling in Silence: An Obedience Primer”

“Funeral Hymns for the Living”

At first, she refused to read them.

But the pages began to scream when ignored.

In the lecture hall, the desks began to fill.

Not with people. Not at first.

But with coats. Boots. Gloves.

Familiar ones.

From the others who had come before her.

And then, slowly… the flesh returned.

One finger on one desk.

A jawbone, still chewing.

A spine that twisted, stretched, clicked as it bent to take notes.

She tried to scream.

A dozen mouths across the room turned to face her, eyes hollow, jaws stitched, and screamed with her.

But only she made a sound.

In the library, she found a book bound in something soft and familiar.

Her name was on the spine.

Inside: hundreds of pages—blank.

Except for one line written again and again and again:

“If I write enough, maybe they’ll let me out.”

She dropped it.

But it stuck to her hands.

To her arms.

To her face.

When she clawed it away, strips of skin came with it—revealing words tattooed on muscle:

“Student. Permanent.”

By the thirteenth day, she had no voice.

Her mouth was sealed. Her fingers stained with ink she hadn’t used.

She walked with the others now, barefoot, silent.

When she passed the mirror in the Headmaster’s chamber, her reflection paused before she did.

It smiled.

Raised a hand.

And waved her goodbye.

Then it turned.

And walked away.

Through the glass.

Into the next room.

Without her.

Outside, they say Scholomance is still sealed.

Still empty.

Still quiet.

But sometimes, if you cross the lake at night—if the fog clears just enough—you’ll see lights burning beneath the keep. Flickering. Like candle flames in classroom windows.

And if you listen closely…

You’ll hear the sound of someone writing.

And weeping.

And the scratching of nails on stone as someone behind the walls tries to claw their way out.

But there’s no way out.

Class is still in session.

And the school always needs more students.

[fugue-feast]

Superstitions, Hallow's End and Other Fun Stuff

So, there's a whole lot of background lore to this post, but the TLDR is: Iantha lives in an old tower house somewhere in the Grizzly Hills near the border of Howling Fjord. Falonel, whom she lives with, was stationed there specifically as a warden to monitor for any feral Scourge/necromantic/cult activity.

There's a village not far away, and during their time there, some superstitions have arisen surrounding the two. Here are a few I wrote out tonight.

Folklore & Superstitions

Warding off bad luck, protecting your family and household against supernatural forces and other folk practices usually start to increase amongst the villagers around Hallow's End. Similarly, the eerie tower inevitably attracts the attention of the village children, who dare each other to do things like:

- Run up to the gate and see who is brave (or stupid) enough to hold on longest. If you hear a horse whinny, you've stayed too long, and the draugrdrottinn (i.e. Falonel) is coming to get you.

- Stand with your back to the tower and look at it over your shoulder through a mirror. If you see the lady in one of the windows, she'll visit you that night and steal your soul

- Go to the crossroads between the village and the road to Draugrhold (the name villagers have dubbed the tower). Sit in the middle, and light three candles: one black, one purple, and one blue. Chant the lady’s name over the purple one, the lord's over the blue one, then who you want to curse over the black one. If you've done it correctly and the lord and lady favour you, the target will be cursed by midnight the next night. If they favour your target instead, it's you that will be cursed!

- While dressing up for Hallow's End doesn't attract any undue attention itself, dressing as a parody of the lord or lady certainly will. They don't have to spot you to know—they say the lord's unseen minions tell him everything, and if you're guilty of this, you can expect bad luck all year long.

Petition Days

If a petition day happens on Hallow's End, Lady Dusklight brings pouches of candy from Quel’Thalas for any children who arrive, and small protective charms for petitioners. It's the only time of year that her favours come without bad luck.

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...and there you have it! World building is a fun exercise for me, so I have tons and tons of notes on things like this.

[nzoth-the-corruptor]

i hope neighborhoods in wow will support trick or treating