#manyeullan

[saladwars-blog]

Slaps some words up here cause I got thinking and gross stuff like that

He was home, he was safe, he was with everything that made him comfortable. From the dark leaves of the canopy to the judging courtiers that walked past him as the sylvari sat with one leg crossed over the other, his head propped up in his hand. Yet, he was unsettled by what he had encountered. 

Manyeullan had been home from the Maguuma Jungle for months now and yet the echoes of Mordremoth’s voice still gave him shivers. To think he had survived being so close to the dragon without being overwhelmed. There were several moments he thought he was going to be, for sure, until he had burned his arm in stubborn idiocy to keep his mind on the pain and not the dragon’s call. That was something Cyhpri had taught him during the few weeks she had kept him under her charge. If you focused on nothing else but the pain then nothing else can get to you. If you focus on the pain it can only fuel you to end it in any way possible. For Many it had made him want to go home, want to sit here on this rock and watch other courtiers do their job. It had freed him from the dragon’s call so many times before he had been knocked out..

He looked over at his bare arm that had once been fairly pristine and now only saw dark, charred bark. It hadn’t been so bad that the bark was going to crumble away, but it had hurt him enough to leave some black scarring. It would grow out in time, he knew, yet he didn’t like the constant reminder of being born a slave even when he thought he was free. Even when he was a dreamer he was in chains. Being resentful of his position as a Courtier didn’t seem to make sense anymore. He was free from the dragon, yes, but as a dreamer, following Ventari’s teachings you weren’t really free either, were you? Not even as a Nightmare Courtier. Your chains were of a different sort. You were chained by the idea of freeing Dreamers...but at hat cost? Either way you were a slave to something. Many rubbed his arm. This was too much to think about. Even humans were in chains by laws, hell, even soundless were chained by the idea of meditation to keep them ‘free’. The dark sylvari sighed and for a moment felt at a strange peace. Everyone was in chains like he was. It made him feel better. 

Of course, telling that to other courtiers would most likely spell out his doom. For a moment he wondered if Rowann would even care until he realized that Elmimo, the small sylvari he sometimes kept watch over would most likely have a breakdown. Or something like that. The small sapling was unpredictable. And too enthusiastic about his job. The tiny sylvari was strange. Nodding to himself he thought it better to keep these thoughts to himself as he stood. For once he envied his fellow sylvari brothers and sisters. Perhaps ignorance truly was bliss? 

[saladwars-blog]

Been meaning to write this since I finished the HoT story...

SPOILERS for those who haven’t played all the way through!

It had been like a cold chill had struck him down his spine--as if he had accidentally stumbled into his own frost trap. Everything seemed suddenly so slow after Kykks had found him bandaged up, tucked away in the safety of a Pact camp. He had remembered the dragon’s loud roar in his head and when he turned, a mordrem stalker had surprised him. Everything had gone blank after that. He hissed quietly as he tried to sit up, but the often unmoved asura quickly went to stop him. “Lay back down you insufferable weed. You’ve sustained heavy wounds to your torso and arms..as well as a good gash on the back of your head. Your leaves should grow over that, however, so you should be fine.” Manyeullan groaned at the news, his bare fingers brushing up against the bandage around his head. This did not surprise him. What had was what Kykks would tell him next. “I’ve received news from Tactician Bramble Jar that...one of your firstborn have been killed..and that the fight is over. Mordremoth is dead.” While, as Nightmare Court, Many could have cared less about most Dreamers the firstborn had always stuck out. The Court had made them a big deal. Afterall, killing one of them was a goal in itself and even more so, Caithe’s words had been what spurred the Nightmare Court into birth! He let his head fall back against the pillow, closing his eyes. “Why should I care? ...Which one?” He had hoped it to be Caithe. Perhaps then he could stop hearing the rumors about her long distance relationship with Faolain. Kykks crossed his arms and huffed, rolling his eyes. “I suppose I don’t know why you should care, but seeing as he was our Marshal at one point I think you, as a Pact member, should at least know. Tactician Bramble Jar seemed deeply upset, considering his usual sour demeanor.” Many’s eyes shot open at the mention of the Marshal. “Trehearne? Trehearne is dead..!?” He couldn’t believe it and at once he felt the icy sensation shoot through him again. “Yes, the Commander themselves took care of him. Apparently, Mordrem had taken seed in him as a precaution. This is all rumor at the moment, though.” Kykks continued to ramble on about the simple tactic Mordremoth had thought of, but Manyeullan couldn’t bring himself to pay attention. The first of the twelve Firstborn had been killed. The first of all sylvari--of his people, dreamer or of the court, had been killed for the greater good of the world. Briefly, he wondered if Trehearne had fought against mordremoth until his death or if he had given in? Manyeullan himself had a hard time once he was close enough to the dragon. Everything had been so hard to focus on, but his sheer stubbornness and will power to kill his oppressor had kept him sane and out of the dragon’s reach...

--

That was weeks ago. Manyeullan had cleaned up well, including his wounds. Though they would leave scars and join the many others on his dark blue bark. He had been thankful not to lose his eye like Bramble Jar had, but was jealous of the attention he got from it upon returning to Verdant Brink with him and Kykks. Tylliand, a brightly colored Dreamer had noticed immediately. While she had split up from the Tactician’s squad to help the Itzel and Nuhoch, she had no trouble fawning over the short angry plant. Shaking his head he forced the annoying thoughts out of his head. Things were different now. Manyeullan saw the bigger picture--he saw more than just the Nightmare Court’s ideals. He saw more than just the craving of power, now. While it still heavily lingered within him, it was now stronger than ever to have power over his own goals--his own decisions. 

He looked down at the note he wrote, turning it over in his hands before handing it over to the dark raven that cawed impatiently for his letter. Once it had snatched it up in it’s claw it took off towards Brisban. While he knew Rowann was not fond of staying there for long, it would at least be waiting for him there when he returned. Mayeullan could not give up the tangled thorns of the Nightmare Court so easily. It was his home and everything he held dear. Yet...he could not stay. Not right now. He had to see everything. He had to see what Mordremoth wanted control of so badly. He wanted to see the world. 

[saladwars-blog]

more faces

i still have many more to do

[saladwars-blog]

some of the faces from the expression prompt!

Theres some more i have to do but if you’d like send me some.

I’m still up for drawing them!

[saladwars-blog]

I know one thing and one thing only

Manyeullan has a cockney English accent. 

[saladwars-blog]

Tempest Ele’s on the battlefield using “Feel the burn!”

[saladwars-blog]

How Many gets a job and meets Kykks

There were those in the Nightmare Court who did not see dragons as a threat. They were a necessary evil in this world and like so many of the darkened sylvari had believed, it was just the way of life. But Manyeullan would have been damned if he’d be held back by dragons and pushed around by the ideas of others. He was forced into this Nightmare and he wasn’t about to let that go to waste because ‘dragons were an needed evil’ just like the Nightmare was for the Dream. 

Of course, that had always been like the sylvari. He was mean and cruel with bouts of cockiness and a sprinkling of pride. Cyhpri had not been kind to him but she had taught him the importance of power and control...and if the dragons didnt have control over Tyria then the Nightmare could spread...

He supposed he got the idea from Rowann, though he’d never admit it, to join the Priory to investigate what was going on with these monstrous creatures. He took on a quieter demeanor and stayed away from other sylvari--they would know his presence in an instant and unlike his higher up he cared just enough so he wouldn’t have to hear rumors. He shed his old outfit when he’d come to visit, disappearing from the Arbor without a word for days or weeks, leaving his staff behind for a dagger and focus and his favorite burning gloves for small, more delicate ones that made it easier to turn pages. He was a different person at the Priory. He’d sit and study books and stare at artifacts and bore himself to the brink of going mad just so he could have control over the dragons. As if he could defeat one himself. Hah. He was cocky, but the sylvari was not a fool. 

He’d need an entire army of people who were as smart as Rowann and strong as himself to defeat something like that...which had caught the attention of an Asura one night as Manyeullan rubbed his eyes in frustration, grumbling about it to himself. 

“You go on about the defeat of dragons as if it is your own personal war, Sylvari. If I wasn’t so interested I’d make my next project a shutting system for your oral orifice.” The dark sylvari glared at the Asura from across the table, the scar down his face and his red eyes catching him off guard enough for the small creature to notice. “I’ve procured my own personal wars in my life. Which is why I’m here. I come here when i need guidance..knowledge...when I feel I’ve lost control of something I’m apart of.” “And what, pray tell, is that, Asura?” “Well, when you agree to be a field scout for a group of priory members and get made into their Leader haphazardly it becomes a bit daunting. I’ve never been a Leader type but here I am searching for knowledge on how to go about fighting dragons and hiring mercenaries to do my job for me.” “...Why would you do that...? Why not do the job yourself?” Manyeullan questioned again, feeling as he was curious enough about the Asura to want to know.” The Asura smiled slightly at that and slid a poorly made poster across the table towards him. “To Maintain and Protect.” 

[saladwars-blog]

Cyhpri comes to visit her old stomping grounds..

Caledon was not the forest she thought she would return to, yet as she made her way past the sylvari encampment she found herself welcomed with a sort of nostalgia...among other things. She would not admit it but she was excited to see some of her old friends again. What more could she call them, really? She did not despise them like many of the Nightmare Court did with each other, but she certainly was not overly friendly or open with them, either. 

Cyhpri made her way through the dark swamp, taking note of how the trees and roots looked like faces and the swamp water was still murky like she remembered. It was if nothing had changed...until she saw a certain Knight of Ashes standing with her own. he had taken notice of her once she had made herself visible, pushing the tall swamp grass aside. “Baroness Cyhpri, I was wondering when you’d make it. Vyridnith here says you've come to visit your old roots...I’m almost flattered~” Manyeullan smirked, full of himself as ever as he tried his best to flirt with the dark green sylvari. He had no such luck as Vyridnith snickered behind her gloves. He gave her a nasty look as the Baroness moved past the two Knights and into the Arbor. She had no time for saplings at the moment--especially Many. 

The two had followed after her, the taller of the two watching her every move while the other carelessly followed after as she usually did. She took mental notes on how the Court of Twilight Arbor stared after Cyhpri and how they whispered and gripped their weapons. The Baroness took no notice as she held her head high. “Where is the Countess..?” She asked a guard. They saluted and tried to answer her before Manyeullan answered for them. “Gone.” “What do you mean ‘gone’?” Cyhpri asked in a harsh tone, turning towards him slightly. He was unaffected by her cold stare. “She’s off with Fyianna--I’m not her Knight. I don’t keep tabs on her.” He shrugged before she gave him a long sigh and rested her hand on her hip. “Then the Count. Where is he? I should like to visit him while I can..” The lanky sylvari gave Vyridnith a long glance before she too shrugged and crossed her arms in a flustered manner. “He’s been off to the Priory a lot as of recently. Who knows what for.” Cyhpri found herself feeling hollow now as the news soaked into her core. “When will they return, then? Why the Priory?” “How should I know?” “because you are here with them every day.” “I am, but I do not follow them around like some human child. If you really must know then ask your Knight of Locusts here. Isn't that what she’s for?” Cyhpri did not answer as she stared holes into the elementalist with no avail. Cheeky, useless piece of rotten cabbage. “Vyridnith,” She started, giving the dark plant a cold stare. “I’m on it, I’m on it...perhaps you should take this time to visit some of your favorite old spots--bring Many along~?” There as no answer for the dark necromancer before she walked off, leaving the two alone. “She’s got a good--” “She doesn't and you’d do well to hold your tongue before I tear it from your jaw you ungrateful fool.”