[Story] At the End

[Mithaniel 66]

This story is set in Mithaniel's past, and will be split into parts.

 

A freshly razed planet was starting to crack and erupt across its now fel-wreathed fields, and demons were teleporting out while the natives were trying to get to safety - to no avail. Mountains began to crumbles, and temples crumpled beneath the tremors that took over the planet. The command ships of Lady Venya and Lord Xatheriaon were pulling out - as the planet looked to be nearing total destruction. They did not want to waste their forces any further - and engines roared as it seemed they would be taking their leave. Upon the aformentioned Lady's ship, the red-skinned eredar Commander was frowning. Someone of particular worth was not yet on the ship - but they couldn't waste any more time. It was as part of the rising peaks of the planet crumbled that she turned her gaze away - and the ship took its leave.

On the planet's surface, its primary temple to the native's supposed god had come crashing down around itself - and had trapped a figure. The planet was erupting all around him, and all the figure could do was reach for the fleeing ships. Green eyes blazed with hurt and with pain as most of his body was being pinned by the temple's stoned structure. "V-venya." choked out the man, whose wings were pinned beneath the rocks piling on the temple. A jagged rock had scratched at his hide, and pain was starting to flow through him. "D-don't leave..." cried out the raspy voice of the monstrous man. But he knew it was futile as an explosion overtook his vision and rocked the ruined temple - his vision going black.

When he came to, he felt so weak - blood loss having done that to him. Yet, he felt like he wasn't pinned - not by rocks at least. As green eyes looked around, he flexed his wings instinctively - grimacing as he does. "I wouldn't move too much if I were you, Chaos-walker." spoke a voice from the side. It was a female's voice - a husky one but still telltale of a female owner. Eyes darted to look for the owner of the voice, and soon he found someone sitting by him. The woman was cloaked, but her face was able to be seen - she was a native of this world judging by the ridged spikes jutting from her jaw. Yet, most of her face was otherwise coated in a plated mask. "You sustained several wounds as the planet sundered. Your masters' work, perhaps." drawled the woman as she lifted a bowl to the demon's mouth and he slowly began to drink the liquid down. After he did, he coughed a few times. "I am sure it tastes bad, but it is medicine." chided the woman. "Who are you, chaos-walker?" questioned the woman.

The green eyes stared at her before ridged features furrowed and he pushed himself to sitting up - despite her protests. "I used to be called a Champion. I used to be an Enforcer." responded the one called a chaos-walker. Eyes looked at his general body, and at his hands. Slowly, he closed his eyes. "Traitor. Oathbreaker. Kinslayer." continued the man before opening his eyes. "..sorry, sometimes I get a bit into theatrics of certain...areas. Especially when I'm trying to cope." This only drew out a tilted head from the woman. "My name is Mithaniel. Or I suppose was, given I practically died." This drew out a roll of the eyes from the woman. "Who knew a creature touched by chaos could be so dramatic." responded the woman as she stood up and moved around.

Slowly, Mithaniel relaxed backwards and he realized slowly where he was - a cave. Most of his body was bandaged up or sporting some sort of natural salve mixture across his scar-torn body. He sighed and looked to the entrance of the cavern. "So the planet didn't completely explode." remarked Mithaniel. "It did not, but now it is...shattered." responded the woman as she began to work at a stone table. Mithaniel grunted as he pushed up, and the woman was about to stop him when he began limping for the cave entrance. As he reached it, he stared out at ashen fields and floating remnants of the planet. His wings curled down and around himself while he leaned against the cave wall.

 

I was abandoned on a dead planet.

She probably thinks I am dead.

[Mithaniel 66]

 

Who knows how long had passed since he was left on the ruins of Nyelsamar - the planet that had once been the target of razing. Over what seemed like weeks - if not months - Mithaniel had felt his strength return and his tattered form did not seem so weak now. He had begun to wander the ashen fields of the ruined planet, and saw just what had happened. All that was left were skeletons, ruined buildings, himself, and his companion. Otherelia was her name, and it appeared she was like him - an outcast and a survivor. Only, he was the monster physically and otherwise - she had only been warped by magic physically. Such a fact had Mithaniel contemplating as he walked the barren wastelands of a world once vibrant. He had once been a growing arcanist who had already delved into the grasp of the arcane. He had once been so bright and hopeful to earn his place among the world as a member of the Kirin Tor's upper echelons.

However, Lady Venya the Trickster saw to it for a different path to come from him. Arcane became fel and the Kirin Tor became The Burning Legion - his prodigal ways with magic mixing with his determination to make him a deadly warlock. Under Lady Venya's tutelage, he became so much more - and then he went on to become something else as he served The Burning Legion. Horns, green eyes, wings, and more began to follow him until he was mutated enough to become confused for a demon at times. He learned how to wield weapons and magic together and became Venya's Champion. Planets burned, people bled, and life vanquished under his unrelenting fury. He had even become the eredar general's secret consort - a fact hidden from most except for the most keen. Their dark love gave way to a softness between them that they hid well.

But now, he was alone and left for dead. A bitterness stung at him as he came to a stop, and his eyes looked to the swirling chaos of The Twisting Nether. A bitterness he had not felt in what could be considered eons. It hurt to remember that Venya had left him here - perhaps with no choice - but also never returned. As far as she might know, the planet was gone and with it? Him. With a boiling of emotions coming to a head, he let out a cry that sounded more like a roar - anguish, rage, and pain all coiled in his very soul. As he ceased, he fell to his knees and fell into a stance of absolute defeat. Where did he go from here?

"It hurts, doesn't it?" questioned the voice of Oth. Green eyes dare not look at her, but his head tilts in a manner of a nod. It seems his only company had glided over to him practically. "I can tell. You feel lost. Hurt. Confused. You wonder where you go from here? But you are forgetting something, no? Many things, rather." remarked the masked woman. His eyes flicked open and he tilted his head to look at her. Violet eyes stared back, and his mind worked - over facts, over what he knew. As fact upon fact clicked, he slowly pushed to standing and faced her. "You know how to say much without actually saying it. A trait of yours I'm starting to find endearing." remarked Mithaniel as his wings slowly curled around him like a cloak.

In a way, her words had prompted him to think. He had time upon time now to figure out what he wanted, what he could do, and more. Time was his ally, and it had yet to abandon him within The Twisting Nether. The towering felsworn tilted his head to look out into the chaos. Otherelia tilted her head as she watched him, and reached out to put a hand over his heart. This drew his gaze back, and brows furrowed together. "I need not speak to you to see, chaos-walker. You are not as cruel and lost as your former masters. There is still much of an old you. A shadow. You need only look deeper. Fetch that person from beneath the tomb you buried him in." His brow arched, but he knew she was right - he had buried his kindness and more to be the dreaded enforcer. Yet, he had not killed it all off - he couldn't.

He didn't say anything in response as he turned to face the chaos of the Nether that swirled around them. He heard her robes glide across the barren fields at their feet, and she was beside him. "You were left for dead, no? No one has come back for you, and yet you can smell the deceit. All of us believed this planet of mine would be gone. Yet it is not. Strange, no?" questioned the woman. It had him thinking, and Mithaniel's intellect came into play as he played over the events leading up to the near-death situation. His eyes began to move from side to side, and then his anger boiled into a scowl.

"It seems I was betrayed. My former...mistress was betrayed. Misled." snarled the felsworn as his wings shifted their position around him. Reaching out, his right hand glimmered with dark magic as fel flame licked at his hands. If there was anything he hated with high regard, it was betrayal. He did not tolerate it - not amongst the Legion. "But I cannot...return to the Legion if I do what I feel that I must." drawled the man as Oth chuckled. "..then don't. You have a power to you. A strength. No one else could have survived this planet's shattering. Not unless they had your drive. Your...fire." remarked the woman.

At the woman's words, a resolve began to fill Mithaniel. Though he did not know what he would do into the future, he knew what he had to do immedietely. If he wanted to show that he was still very much alive and not to be trifled with. He was a man all about not being underestimated - about standing his ground. Letting someone betray him and get away with it? He couldn't do that. Though it made him a hypocrite in some way, he couldn't see himself offing himself - but he could do something else. He could teach a lesson to an impudent warlord.

I will find this traitor and take what is his.

..then I shall seek out Venya.

Edited October 6, 2017 by Mithaniel

[Mithaniel 66]

This is the last part for now.

I might delve into bits about how he gets his forces, his current status, etc. This would be later on, but this achieves showing a critical moment in his past - when he turned from Legion lackey/champion into something else. This also is meant to slowly tease a few ideas - a truth about his mental status, his plans, and more. 
 

Also, doing dialogue for anyone but Mithaniel is my weak point.

The Champion Strikes

Facing down an eredar commander was going to be no easy feat for the felsworn, and he knew this. It was this single fact that had him spending his time upon the broken world wisely. He focused on regaining his entirety of his strength. As he did, his companion had opted to teach him her secrets - secrets even he did not know. Ways to use fel that few among the Legion knew. Including a way to take a demon's power for himself and leave them nothing but a husk. Learning that particular magic had taken him time to master before he was confident enough. With months having passed in the Nether, he felt he was ready as he would ever be. So he stood at a broken font of magic that the natives of the planet had used. He breathed in and out, and began to focus. Dark magic seeped from from his fingers as he began to weave the chaos of the Nether to his command for one singular spell.

Slowly, fel began to swirl to life before him as the latent magic in the air took to shaping a portal. He knew just where he needed to head. The ship of the one who betrayed him was all but in sight - his mind recalling every detail from his visit some time ago. His face contorted with focused rage as the portal suddenly ripped into finishing - rippling and echoing with the power put into it. Slowly, his wings unfolded from its cloak-like form as he stepped towards it. However, he heard footsteps and he turned his head. The woman who had taught him, helped him recovered, and brought him to quiet inquisition was approaching him. "So. You are off to slay a commander." remarked the woman. Slowly, he turned to face her and nodded.

"Then, allow me to do one last thing." She reached out to him, and he instinctively tensed slightly - only to find her hand on his forehead. There was a gleaming green glow to her, and then he was briefly blinded. However, the blindness went away and she was gone. He blinked and looked around, and then down to himself. Nothing had apparently changed, yet the woman was gone. With a frown, he turned towards the portal and cast his right hand outward as magic swirled - taking the shape of a large fel-wrapped sword. The dark steel of the weapon gleamed with darkly colored glyphs, and echoed with power. He stepped through the portal, and he was transported away from the world that had almost been his tomb.

When he exited the portal, he found himself standing face to face with the commander that had done this all. The towering eredar looked surprised to see him, and Mithaniel seemed to be calm. "You're alive!?" questioned the eredar in surprise. Mithaniel didn't answer with words, as his left hand lashed out and several fel flame bolts smashed into the eredar. Demons underneath the service of the commander began to rush Mithaniel, but he showed them why he had been called a champion. Felguards, wrathguards, and fel hounds had fallen to his blade - their life essence used to fuel himself and the blade's own power. The eredar commander, Xarael, scowled. How could this felsworn still be alive!? Slowly, Xarael reached out with his polearm and launched a large blast of fel fire at Mithaniel.

Mithaniel's wings expanded as the blast almost consumed him, until he jumped upward and soared over it. As he descended, he continued to carve through more demons. "You and I can stop being coy about this, Xarael. You betrayed me. You betrayed Venya." remarked the felsworn as he spun around and cut down the last of the demons attacking him. His wings flared to full wing span as he shifted his stance. Xarael stared the felsworn down and shook his head. "I was doing what I had to, you filth. You were...in the way. A blight to be put to rest. Lady Venya had no more use for y--" He was cut off as the blade suddenly dug into his left leg - impaled there. Mithaniel had thrown it in a sudden moment.

"You're a terrible liar, Xarael. I know you too well." remarked the felsworn as he gathered his magic to his palms before launching a rather sudden blast of fel lightning towards Xarael's center. The powerful spell sent the eredar falling back - only to rip out the sword and tossed it aside. "You impudent wretch! I am a commander and you are NOTHING." roared the eredar as he and Mithaniel began to engage in a battle of fel - each one launching one spell after another. However, Mithaniel soon launched himself for the eredar. Back and forth they clashed as the distance closed.

Both of them were landing blows on one another. Xarael had less wounds than Mithaniel - but they were starting to equally trade. Mithaniel was suddenly swiped back into one of the walls, and he hit the ground. He cursed and coughed out blood. He stared down at the ground as more demons flooded towards him. The pain was dulled as he closed his eyes - memories of Venya flashing in his mind. Memories of all he had done to get stronger. To be able to survive. As fel-wreathed weapons descended on him, darkness crackled around his wings as rage and dark magic boiled together within him.

The dark magic took over his form as he let out a more demon-sounding roar than one made by a mortal being. Raw power took shape around him as he grew in size, and took on a form of something more demon-like. He had done a metamorphisis that paled in comparison to that of the Demon Hunters, but that did not mean he was going to be easily taken down within this form. His eyes blazed with power, with emotion, and with something else - as if Mithaniel was not all there. Xarael looked surprised, and the demons continued their charge. Only, claws tore through their throats and their armored forms.

He spread the shadow wings and then began to cut through the demons like they were putty. Xarael snarled and began to gather his magic - intending to wipe out the felsworn once and for all. However, he was surprised when the transformed Mithaniel curled his wings inwards and then unleashed a shockwave of power. By now, the torrent of demons had begun to come to its close. Magic-crackling hands grabbed at his tossed sword, and he truly began to make a mess of what remained of this ship's forces. However, the two soon re-engaged with one another. Both the commander and the empowered felsworn were masters of combat mixed with magic.

Once more, Mithaniel was flung back by a particular blow, and he used his wings to slow his fall and even hover. The empowerment wasn't going to last much longer, and his mind blazed with desire to see Xarael dead. So he gathered himself as Xarael pointed his polearm at him. "You should have known you don't stand a chance." yelled the commander. However, the battle resumed - Mithaniel and Xarael clashing - both sending magic and physical blows at one another. They traded blows, but Xarael was focused for the fight - while Mithaniel's mind was beginning to dance around with other thoughts. Their blows sent shockwaves through the ship and began to throw rampant magical blasts to the insides of the ship. Eventually, he drew back and hovered in the air - and he knew he had only so long left now of the empowered form.

As the battle raged, the ship was taking damage on the inside, and Mithaniel knew he had to end it soon - lest they both be caught by the ship's destruction. So as he reached Xarael, he launched himself up and revealed a spell that Xarael had not seen before - several fel flame chains and spikes cutting into the eredar's form and armor. Mithaniel then landed on the towering eredar's shoulders - on the back of commander. He brought both hands to the temples of the eredar, who struggled and fought against the bindings. "But I must thank you, little rat." drawled the felsworn as his hands began to glow with magic. "You putting me to near death awakened me. It...allowed me to look back. To consider everything. All I learned." He then pressed his fingers into the temples of the head harsher - and the eredar found his immense strength waning. Slowly, the empowered form began to leave Mithaniel - revealing his battered form, but he was now taking from the demon commander.

Xarael was hard to kept bound, so Mithaniel had something else to help him. His wings curled inward and then he focused as his eyes glowed with power. "I learned a thing or two in my time of recovering. Esh an nal ke wasath mekna." uttered the felsworn. Xarael's eyes widened as the fel bindings began to cocoon him in place. His very soul felt seared as Mithaniel began to drink of all his strength - all of his power. Dark magic began to spark and crackle around the sneering felsworn's visage - which teetered between vile sneering and weariness from their fight.

"You see, I realized. No one means well for Azeroth or the universe. The Burning Legion wishes to burn it all, The Void wishes to corrupt it all. Order, Chaos, Light, and Shadow? Too many sides vying for power and control. Of course, you can't see the bigger picture. I can." He begins to continue his spell - draining the eredar more and more. The power was giving him a rush - a rush that made him grin. "All you do is cause pain and torment. Any of you. Everyone is doing it wrong, but I will not. So, as you feel your energy leave you. As you feel yourself become nothing, know you have helped me. Thank you. Now, return to nothing." He then ripped his hands away from the temples, and energy - life energy, magic, and more - rapidly shot through him as the eredar began to wither away.

As the eredar began to fall, Mithaniel launched himself from the eredar's body and landed with a thunderous crack. What remained of Xarael's forces watched in horror as the felsworn slowly rose to his feet - radiant with power. His wings oozed fel magic, and his form seemed to glow with power. He closed his eyes as he felt the raw power echo within him. In the time that he had prepared for this, he had begun to reflect on what he would do from here on out. He thought of Azeroth, of Venya, and of his own history. It was after he had taken the strength of the commander that he saw it before his eyes - a vision. He knew what his path would be - and he smiled to himself.

Turning, he strode out of the main chamber and to the outside part of the ship. Fel eyes burned with a calm stare as he saw the chaos of the Nether once more. Reaching out, he wove magic to forge a projected image of his targeted location. Azeroth was made from fel, and floated before him - slowly spinning as he flicked his fingers. He knew now what he had to do - what he had to stop and prevent by going to the root of all issues. To do so, he would have to face the one element that few could ever tamper with.

 

Time.

Edited October 7, 2017 by Mithaniel