#melanei

[pydoodles]

Some doodles I did last night on the stream.

@azriah @sakialyn @jessipalooza

[curiouslich]

Aftermath: The Weak Die

The front being held by the Phoenix Guard was a bloody mess to be put lightly. A felscape hell of retreat and terror. The Legion crashed in with their demons before proper defenses could be established. Cleaving through the ranks all they could do was fall back with each demonic advance.

Zanarian’s Green eyes darted over the field. As their front line crumbled the Crushers moved on clearing room for their war machines. Praetorians and Faithbreakers took command of the assault shouting out orders and delighting in the havoc.

“Those shields won’t last much longer, they are going to charge up this hill, and if they don’t that cannon fire will” Running his hand over his face he shook his head. Against his better judgement he had stayed back to defend the healers. Two of his favored among the cabal and a contingent of Light users.

“Enough of this, If someone doesn’t help they’ll be over run. I am not waiting for them to upon us. I think it’s time for a snack.” Sliding off the rock he was perched on he walked over to Mara. A warm smile on his face. “The price is paid my Seer, so long as your heart beats I will keep going.” Leaning down he slid his thumb over her ear before giving her a kiss. First her lips then her forehead. Moving on he marched over the other illidari.

Claws wrapping around the back of Vilesun’s neck Zanarian knit his fingers into his friends hair. Holding his forehead against the ink binder he nodded. Felseared eyes boring into the other man. “Whatever happens, you know my orders.”

“I won’t disappoint Overseer.”

Releasing the man Zanarain nodded a second time. “See that you don’t, when this over gather who you can, we’ll have a party like we’ve never seen.” The joke never seemed to let him down and he smiled at his humour.

Turning to the field he charged down the hill his foot fall became heavy. Each step wider, each landing with more force. Blackened scales spread across his arms as spikes began to reach out from under his armor. By the time he slammed into the first demon he had finished the transformation.

Biting into his first target his draconic jaw clamped down hard on the fel lord. Closing on its neck he wrenched the flesh from the demon and with a spray of blood they hit the ground. Where one now struggled to breath the other was looking for his next meal.

In a battle he never had to wait long. The infernal let out a shriek as the construct greeted him. The lumbering machines were slow. Zanarian had more than enough time to dodge its ‘arm’ and capitalize on the strike. Claws aimed forward he pierced its vulnerable spot. The armor was weak below the chest. It was all too easy to grab onto its core. Pulling back he dislodged the molten center of the beast. With a second shriek it came undone and fell to pieces on the ground. He always liked the taste of Infernal, and with a delightful crunch he devoured the treat.

With the way open his real target was in sight. The Fel Cannons. Each war machine was pointed at a different location. Some near the healers, some at the front, and another at the casters.

The battalion of magi rained spells of all schools on the demons. This of course gathered their ire and as the cannons all changed to put an end to that threat.

With the force of the freshly consumed infernal Zanarian crashed into one of the cannons shattering it in his wrath. Tail flinging out he choked the operator before throwing him like a rag doll at the second cannon. He lived for this, and lept at the next one. In the midst of his wholesale slaughter he barely noticed the darkening of the sky, but the searing smell of fel-ionized air was a give away.

In a battle against the forces of the Legion the unexpected had to be prepared for, and when Baal’s forces marched on the Dawnspire there would be no difference. What was the point of a stable front line when facing aerial superiority.

The cry to look above rang out almost too late. In a rain of fire the green meteors shattered the clouds  With a cataclysmic slam the sphere of stone and fel crashed into the ground. The final moments were here and Baal’s elite guard had arrived. Just as soon as the craft had obliterated the earth beneath it the behemoth inside surged outwards. Double edged spear swinging in wild arcs melting away the lines of casters.

Runes on the monster’s glave shimmered as he sent frost, flames, and lightning back at their casters. Sweeping the spells from the sky he advanced further into their back line.

Giving off a deeply satisfied roar the demon pierced another magi. Hefting their body up on the tip of his halberd he smiled as the weakened mage squirmed. “Your magic won't save you now wurm.” Plated hands clamping down on his target he dragged him forward on the spear until the reddened spike erupted from his back. “Pathetic”

Tossing the corpse aside the Praetorian was only able to react just quick enough. Slicing through a bolt of frozen fel flame he turned on his next targets. A pair of Suncasters one with hair like flowing honey, the other a raven’s quill. “Is that the best the Dawnspire can muster!” To end the sentence he sliced the second volley. Clearly the Dawnwards weren’t keen on talking. Eager to meet the Felravens the demon lept at them.

Glave held high in the air he was on them in an instant. With a cackling howl the Praetorian slashed at the pair. His spear stopped short and he was furious that instead of a clean cut and tattered cloth his blow was halted.

It wasn’t in Zanarian’s nature to protect people. There were only two types of people, the strong and the weak. If you couldn’t protect yourself you were weak, if you were weak you died…

At least that's what he always told himself, but he broke that rule often. Curling his arm he did the best he could to met the slash with his shoulder. Metal met demonic armor with a loud ring.

Dirt ground up over his feet as Zanarian was punished back with the blow. The sound of cracking scales filled the air followed by a wet thud the Praetorian was stopped in his tracks.

Blood flooding his mouth Zanarian coughed up the red fluid. His trio if eyes fell down on the fel steal of the spear.

It was strange to see a weapon sticking out of your stomach. The blazing hot sensation of split skin, the piercing ache of cracked bones, and the sense of what felt like frozen metal drinking in your blood. Though, to his surprise it didn’t hurt. Stumbling in shock Zanarian struggled to keep standing.

The Praetorian recovered far more quickly and went to free his blade from the lizard that clung to it. With a grunt he yanked his hand back, but to his dismay the Illidari insect refused to let go.

Biting down on his inner jaw Zanarian dug his feet further into the dirt. Wrapping his tail around the Praetorian’s arm his white knuckles held fast to the blade. Blood flowing from his mouth he gave a toothy smile. “The~ fuck you think your going~”

Dragging the spear deeper into his gut he knew the plan already. The taste of frozen air was one he had become well acquainted with, even missed it. As the ice began to race along the blade's edge it froze his tail in place around the Praetorian’s arm. The thought that neither would escape what came next was his only solace.

The worst of the ice didn’t touch him. Lovete’s magic merely helped to cement them in place. She was always kind to him, but for the praetorian there was a more sinister result of the freezing. His armor, his flesh, and no doubt his blood all ran cold.

From his dealings with her Zanarian knew that Melanei wasn’t exactly one for mercy… or restraint. With a score to settle with them both the heat of fel was only inevitable.  

Sure enough the air began to crack as it was suddenly sparked ablaze.The bright green was a welcome sign, maybe she would calm down after venting this out.

An Inferno that could probably rival the core of Argus met the iced surface of an instant glacier. The result was a shattering blast that shredded the pair caught in the attack. Thrown to the ground in the violent reaction Zanarian had no idea what happened to his rival demon. No doubt he was in worse shape. As his armor was replaced with burnt skin he would have laughed at the situation if he could manage anything but ragged breaths. Darkness creeping into the edges of his vision his charred head slid to his left. Where he expected to see his arm he found the singed look of what appeared to be his legs.

Before the black took him he pursed his dry lips. “Fffff….”

….if you were weak you died…

@stormandozone @captainswingbeard @sakialyn @jessipalooza

[pydoodles]

A doodle i finished for my good friend @sakialyn

The warlock bae, Melanei

[pydoodles]

Melanei @sakialyn

[sakiwriting]

Raven’s Flight

The battle had been heavy and costly, and though the way into the Bleeding Eye’s necropolis had been cleared, the undead would find no rest. There was no end to them. As many as had been cut down, more rose to take their place.

Melanei attempted to catch her breath, but as Finnistan Truefeather rose to stand before them with his massive army, she knew a decision would have to be made: Stand and fight or press on and deliver an end to this. As their Archon stepped forward without hesitation in order to buy the rest the time needed to get through the portal, she knew already what her decision would be.

She tightened the grip on her staff and looked to Lovete, her beloved sister. "Go on and see this through. I will stay behind with our Archon."

Rather than heed her sister’s request, instead the mage would join her sister’s side. She somehow managed to hold her ever present smile, though it did not reach her eyes. "And I won't leave your side, dear sister."

She knew she should be furious as once again her sister disregarded what was commanded of her and yet, relief seemed to fill Melanei’s gaze. If this was indeed to be their end, they would see it together. The tiniest hints of a smile actually began to grow upon her lips, as she nodded to her sister. 

“Then let us remind them why the Felraven name is to be feared.”

[jessipalooza]

TSG SW: Day 14

How does your character know someone loves them, even when they aren't told?

You have always been a useless spot on this family. You cannot keep up with the rest of us? You cannot keep your legs shut? You do nothing of use. If I was a lesser mother, I would have gotten rid of you long ago.

Lovete hears these words and yet her smile does not falter. She has heard them nearly all her life. Her father touted how much she was a disappointment until the day he died, and her mother did so twice as much after that to make up for his absence.

A daughter of mine without the ability to wield fel? Useless! Shameful! You are lucky we have Melanei. Without her, I don't know what we would do. She is the daughter we deserve.

Time and time and time again, she hears these things and looks to her sister. Melanei frowns bitterly in response, as though agreeing with their mother. However, she says nothing. She says nothing of agreeing or disagreeing.

And neither does she tell the truth that only she knows.

So when their mother ends her hateful tirade and the sisters are left alone, it does not matter that Melanei did not stand up for her. It does not matter that Melanei chastises her for her 'loose morals' and spending habits. It does not matter, because she hears the truth of it, all hidden in that unspoken knowledge of what their mother will never know.

I love you, sister.

@thesunguardmg | @starcunning | @sakialyn

[thegoddamnhawkman]

Lovete/Erisi

pros:

+ they’re both pretty chill

+ they get along well

+ they’re both super cute

+ neither would have any interest in actual romance so no complications

+ suncasters funcasters

+ full stable of magic and fel-related sexy time gimmicks

cons:

- erisi has to work with melanei

that one con basically offsets all the pros

jessipalooza sakialyn 

[sakiwriting]

Missing Items

That pair was very expensive. I expect a new pair. Or maybe I'll just steal some of yours.

Melanei glared at the letter in her hand. It was in the middle of her studies when the envelope had been discovered stuffed between her beloved books upon the desk. There was no question from whom it was, and it was obvious they knew the right time in which to anger. Now her concentration had been disrupted.

“Then don’t leave them lying around in the beds of men,” she growled to no one in particular.

In a flash, the letter erupted into flames between her fingers and was then tossed into the wastebin next to her desk, igniting the rest of the paper pile within. It was for such reasons that the bin had been specifically made out of stone and judging by the blackened insides of it, trash fires were a common occurrence next to this desk.

As she got back to her work, and picked up the quill once more, she was thankful for the magical lock she had put upon that particular drawer.  Too often had her things gone missing thanks to a certain sibling borrowing without ever asking.