#tezuli

[anraheth-art]

And I swear that I'm not gonna lose you now I’ll keep you in my life somehow And even when the lights go down, down I could never lose you now

[anraheth-art]

WHAT’S THAT?? A DRAWING??? I STILL DRAW????

yes, actually.

although this is the first meaningful lineart i’ve done since september.

i’m glad i don’t suck :D

[ivyprayed]

The Worst Case Scenario

‘I ain’t goin’ anywhere, girleh. I don’t intend ta die ta Garax, or his void-shit’. It was meant to inspire Di’onaya. It was meant to give hope. Yet her mind was never torn from the vision given to her that day. Her first Trial was important. All to ensure that the Zandalari could handle the responsibility of being a Shadow Hunter. Yet out of all of the visions...Di’s seemed to be the most brutal. She stares ahead in her cot. These were the beginning stages of the blood plague, heralding the arrival of that dreaded C’thraxxi. The Antu’zuls had been working day and night to keep the Clan safe. But so did they in that vision Di had and as parallels were drawn...

Hours earlier, the girl had woken up near the Arena in Zul’Gurub. She took the potion her Chief and Master asked of her...and slept. When she woke up however...it all had gone to shit. Garax had taken over. So much blood...so much gore, viscera...Di didn’t know who survived. For all she knew in that vision, she was the new Chief simply because everyone else was now either a Blood Troll or filling the pavement she walked on. Even the sky rained blood. There was hope however, she found Tezuli. She found the one person she’d go to if everything went to shit, the one person who had more experience in this Clan than her Chief. There was hope. Emphasis on was. Imagine her surprise when Di was told by Tezuli herself that she killed the Chief. ‘Zu’daba was infected’. The quote rang through her mind. ‘Abu and the other bears were infected’. Tezuli’s bears, especially Abu, meant the world to the Shatterspear. So did Zu’daba. Things must’ve been dire. Tezuli was a Shadow Hunter after all- she knew what was best. So the Zandalari thought. They were supposed to flee. Supposed to rally support to take back the city. Tezuli was Chief at a time, Di’onaya knew she could take the mantle up again if required. Then she did it. Vomited blood. A sure sign that Tezuli had gotten infected. Just like that, what little hope the Aspirant had faded. There was no cure. And then Tezuli claiming Di was corrupted...begging her to stop. Time became a blur. The next thing she knew, Di had stabbed the only family she had left. Tezuli attacked her first, but Di put the Shadow Hunter down. She didn’t retrieve her sword- no. She left it, and grabbed her adopted family’s glaive. Then it went black- the sound of Garax’s voice taunting her. It was just a dream- that’s what her Chief said. That’s what she believed. Yet Di...Di found herself going back to that vision over and over again. She passed that trial with ease of body, but not of mind. She had never considered failure until then.  Part of her hoped that her vision may never come to pass, all as she nestled further into her blankets.

[anraheth-art]

Eyes Open

In a dark, cold, sealed crypt they had laid what remained of Tezuli. It wasn’t much- a right leg, blown off below the knee. A portion of a right hand. Bits and pieces of her armor. Her Rush'kah. Gifts and parting offerings for the fallen Chief, sacrificing herself at 19 to buy precious few days for her people before the demons came.

In the moments before the explosion she had triggered, the Shatterspear had called for a full retreat. There was no winning that fight. She knew it. They knew it. Demons poured forth from portals, an endless and overpowering force.

And in the moment she destroyed the main portal, there was no fear. No doubt, no regret. She barely had time to feel the searing pain of hot metal and destructive magics before her head hit the mountainside behind her.

The next morning, in a red dawn harboring an oncoming storm, her remains were recovered. A few days later, the clan she so loved laid her to rest. Eyes closed and heavy-laden with tears, they said goodbye.

None knew that almost two weeks later, in a dark, cold camp, the Chief they had buried lay, grievously wounded and comatose. She had remained there after a passing group of Horde adventurers had spotted her. How they had managed to retrieve her was nothing short of a miracle, with the Tainted Scar still swelling with demonic forces. Yet all the same, there she was, battered and broken and still as the death that had not yet claimed her. Every now and then, Tezuli had heard bits and pieces of the conversations around her. They faded in and out of her blackness, and though she heard them talking to her, or more often than not about her, she was powerless to move or respond to their promptings.

“It should be soon...” A gravelly, hoarse voice rumbled in Orcish. A male. Forsaken, by the timbre.

“And if it isn’t?” Another voice, this one female and gruff.

“Then she won’t wake at all.” The Forsaken replied.

Tezuli had seen her death. Years ago, at the start of her shadow hunter training. She had deliberately chosen to forget as much of it as she could-- after all, what point was there in knowing when the Loa would call her home? It would do nothing but hold her back or cause worry-- whether for herself or for others was another question.

She remembered bits and pieces though. Hardly anything to jog her memory on how she would die, much less the when.. but enough to know that it would not be today. It would not be lying on itchy hay barely covered by an equally scratchy blanket. It would not be in a coma, dead to the world and trapped in a hazy dream state from which she could not wake. Six voices echoed in the dark; sounds in neither Zandali nor Orcish, yet ones she understood all the same. The same sounds she had so often heard before in her Rush’kah when the Loa spoke to her.

Your time is not yet, child.

There is more we require of you.

There is more to be done.

Rise now, fight again.

Open your eyes, steel your resolve.

Get up, get up, get up!

Her body seized as she tried to lurch forward, tired and bruised muscles and still-healing broken bones resisted against the sudden movement. She tried again, grunting and failing. Get up. Get up.

GET UP!

The Shatterspear finally forced herself up, spittle flying from her maw as a raw, tattered scream tore from her throat. Every inch of her felt as if it were on fire, as though her muscles were tearing apart and her bones cracking under the strain of simply moving. It would not stop her, though. Even as the sounds of many footsteps hurriedly made their way to her bedside, and multiple voices told her things like ‘not yet’ or ‘you need to rest’ or even ‘if you keep that up you’ll hurt yourself worse!’, Tezuli focused on only one thing.

Her eyes were open.

((OOC Note: For any who are interested in trying to find Tezuli/scry for her/otherwise discover she is alive right now, that’s a no. I am still trying to sort out how/when I would like for her to come back into RP, so please don’t jump the gun and try and find her in any form yourselves <33))

[anraheth-art]

tezuli star hopes/regrets

Hi nonnie! :D Thanks for the prompt!

Tezuli has a couple hopes at present. The biggest is that the clan can finally put a permanent end to an old enemy. She doesn’t have a lot of regrets right now, but one that nags at the back of her mind every so often is how she regrets becoming so serious and quiet. She misses the girl she used to be before becoming a shadow hunter, before leaving her first mate. While she knows there’s nothing stopping her from going back to that, she’s finding it difficult after being so closed off for so long.

[anraheth-art]

★ (any fact)

One for each then!

Tezuli: She hasn’t danced in a ritual pretty much since she lost her home in Shatterspear Vale 4 years ago. She misses it and wants to get back into it, though!

Jenzulu: Though I haven’t played him in ages, I’ve been thinking OOC on what to do with him to liven him up. ICly, he’s considering changing paths from a balance/resto druid to maybe taking up being a big, burly bear!

Kioni’fon: Kioni’fon has two braids in her hair given to her by her closest friend, Faraji. He taught her how to braid and demonstrated for her, and she only takes them out to wash her hair, then puts them back in.

Altherei: She plans to take a trip to Pandaria with a friend soon to have a reprieve from all the craziness going on in the world.

Thanks! :D

[anraheth-art]

Does Tezuli have a favorite childhood memory? A really bad childhood memory?

Hi nonnie! Thanks for your question!

Some of Tezuli’s favorite childhood memories are participating in all the rituals the Shatterspear have, and getting to dance with her family and tribesmen. :D Bright colors, big bonfires, jingling bells and all the energy that came along with it is something she still treasures!

As for a really bad childhood memory, although she was technically an adult (14) at the time, by far her worst memory is when the night elves retaliated against the Shatterspear’s attack (after being encouraged by the Horde). Tezuli lost pretty much everything that day– her parents, her brother (though he isn’t dead, his whereabouts are unknown), her home, her tribesmen. It did start her on the path to meeting the Shadowtusk and becoming a shadow hunter, but to this day she holds a deep grudge against the Horde, and purely despises the night elves.

[anraheth-art]

The Voodoo Calls - Part 14

It was a loud peal of thunder that woke Tezuli from her deep sleep. The sky was dark and heavy with a summer storm, and peeling back one of the leather flaps at her hut’s entrance revealed nothing but a darkened downpour. Zul’Gurub’s cobbled stone streets were slick with rain, and she could barely see the hills and trees without the strobe-like strikes of lightning to illuminate them. What time it was, she had little clue, but the skull was quiet. It must still be rather early.

Choosing to stay inside for now, she closed the flap and lit a few candles for extra light, letting the soft glow fill her hut. She settled her Rush’kah over her face and took a moment to stretch her neck and wake up; with this storm, there’d be no sleep any time soon. Her eyes fell to the table, where now four out of the six hirizi she’d assembled lay on its wooden surface. On the floor were the two remaining pouches, and therein the last of the items the Loa had demanded.

Tez lowered herself to the floor and sat cross-legged, letting the storm guide her towards the pouch she’d put Shango’s requests in. Spreading out another square of leather, she carefully emptied the herbs into it and inspected them one by one. Coffee cherries gently rolled around as they were poured out before going still on the even wood floor. A single, drying cayenne pepper sat in the center, and around it the pieces of ginseng root she’d collected. She stood only long enough to grab her mortar and pestle before settling back to the floor.

Picking up the coffee cherries, she placed one in the mortar bowl and began to crush it. Much to her surprise, a small bean popped out, bouncing and rolling around the bowl momentarily. Tezuli tilted her head, then gingerly picked out the husk of the cherry itself, tossing it aside. Deft fingers worked quickly after that to separate the remaining beans from their respective casings, before dropping them all into the bowl. Lightning split the sky again, and the wind howled, slapping at the curtains of her hut as she ground the beans down into a fine powder.

Once she was satisfied with the powder’s consistency, she reached for the small red pepper. Even smelling it was enough to tickle her nostrils, and she gave it a good snap, breaking the pepper in half to spill what remained of its juices and its seeds into the bowl with the bean powder. With her ordinary skinning knife, she began chopping the pepper into smaller pieces, removing unnecessary seeds. When the pieces were small enough, Tezuli dropped them into the bowl and ground them in with the coffee beans.

Lastly, she reached for the ginseng root. Just as she’d done with the pepper, she cut what she needed into smaller, more manageable pieces before grinding them into a powder with the rest. What she was left with was a strange, not-too-pleasant looking brown-colored powder.

She dipped her finger in and gave the mixture a swirl or two with her digit, only to have some of the mixture stick to her finger from the pepper juice when she removed it. Shrugging nonchalantly, she stuck her finger in her mouth only to be smacked in the face not only by the taste of it, but the smell.

It was awful! The most bitter thing she’d ever tasted, and probably the hottest, too. Despite wanting to spit it out, she refrained. Her eyes watered and she let out a few gagging coughs-- this had not been a good idea, and she couldn’t rid her mouth of the taste!

She pushed herself to stand and hurried out of her hut into the downpour, where she turned her head skyward and opened her mouth to catch as much water as she could. When her mouth could hold no more, she finally swallowed the rainwater, and with it, the spice mixture. A few more coughs were spared before she shuffled back inside, soaking wet.

Sitting back down, Tezuli carefully poured the spice mixture into the center of the leather square. Just as she had done with Lukou’s sachet, so she did here by grabbing the corners, pulling them up, and tying them securely with a stray piece of leather cord.

No sooner had she finished, though, did her brain begin to buzz. Her fingers and toes began to tingle, and she felt her heart begin to race ever so slightly. It was extremely similar, if not exactly like the feeling of frenzy she’d experienced in her dream and subsequent meditation.

Reaching for an empty vial she’d kept stashed on her belt, Tezuli grabbed it and stuck her arm out the back opening of her hut, into the rain once more. She let the water fill up the vial until it was overflowing, only then bringing it back inside. She poured out a few drops, then corked the glass vial and tied it to the sachet with another piece of leather cord.

Thunder shook the hut, and she understood. Scooping the sachet and vial into her hands, Tezuli noticed her palms shaking. Every bit of her felt like she’d been struck by lightning-- she had never had this much energy before! Nonetheless, she forced her body to sit still, her eyes to close, and her mind to focus so she could pray.

“Shango.. Lord ‘a the Storm an’ master ‘a chaos.. I come before ya, askin’ that ya may impart ya blessings onto this sachet. Jus’ as I feel it now, so may I feel ya frenzy whenever I use this charm. May ya lightnin’ fill me, an’ ya storm make me an unstoppable force like the one that rages outside...”

Despite wanting to hold herself there in the silence, the desire to move and burn off energy was simply too strong. And the skull was still silent, so the likelihood of anyone seeing or hearing her was low.. right?

Tezuli sat the hirizi on the table with the other four and, with only her casual clothes on-- a simple halter top of leather and basic pants-- she ran into the raging storm. She ran through the city, doing laps on the water-slicked stone for what felt like hours. This high.. she’d never experienced it before! It was incredible!

The crash that came soon after, however.. was not.

The shadow hunter spent the next few hours in her hut, drying off as the storm dwindled, and fighting a battle with her newfound fatigue. This was not a charm she could use often... and with how sluggish each movement felt coming down from the high? She couldn’t imagine herself wanting to use it too often, either.

But now.. only one remained.