Redlight King - Bullet In My Hand
I stepped forward, swiftly… It was only for the most important matters that we would be called to the Isle of Quel’danas to meet with a triumvirate, and this matter was incredibly important.
I saw the blue light flicker from the burning pyres, and the room was silent. Up above I could see all of those that had watched me seated in their same spots, with the Magistrate’s representative, a presiding Knight-Lord, and the Matriarch’s appointed honor-guard. I had not truly left the Blood Knight Order, but my sudden withdraw from the rank of Knight-Champion was enough to add question to where I stood now.
I stood and waited for the words of the grand council, who had been speaking swiftly and silently with one another. They had everything there was to have on me… writs of nobility, my honor-record, my affiliations, and every last misconduct ever reported to the magistry. They were to decide my fate, not on combat this time, but on past history.
They knew I was well-versed in combat, and there was all the evidence in the world to support it. All of Azeroth could attest to my strengths… but from circumstance, they all questioned my loyalty and stoicism.
The Knight-Lord stood and walked to the edge of his terrace, speaking in a booming voice that was no doubt even louder amongst the silence.
“Ileyan’adash Dragonbane, you are standing before me a second time now, to become a Knight-Champion. You have proven you have all the prowess, but what I must question is your fickle tastes in serving our people. It is not so easy to merely forgive you after conceding your rank upon deployment to Pandaria so that you might fight amongst the Sunreavers.”
The Knight-Lord paused before continuing on.
“You have been with us since the first year of our order’s creation, just a few months shy of the founding. You are formerly of the Quel’thalas legions, of Sunstrider’s honor guard, and of the Sunreavers. Your affiliations are not wrong, but they have proven to conflict with your duties. There is every reason in the world to grant you your medal of commendation and the insignia of your former rank, but by the sun, there are also a lot of reasons not to. Speak to me… Tell the Sin’dorei people why you deserve to climb back into such a seat of glory.”
I looked about as the people became loud in a rabble, speaking in a mixed sentiment over what would be my fate in the Order of the Blood Knights. I reached and grasped for whatever I could… The passion in my heart. Finally, I was able to speak out, silencing everyone as I did so.
“Enough! I am a patriot… I am a hero… I am a soldier… I -am- the Champion that our people needs. The advocate of Sin’dorei, the strength of our blood, and the pride of our nation— I will serve no matter how I am called. Give me my insignia back and I swear to you… I will topple our enemies and stand as a bastion of resolve.”
And with that, I straightened my tabard, banging my fist to the carapace beneath. The assembly erupted loudly, and while the Knight-Lord hadn’t said anything, I knew from the reaction that my words had been enough to inspire faith in me.
I, the Blood-Wyrm, have sought out my former greatness… Lo and behold, it turns out that I had never lost it.
The earth, worn and old, ancient- as can be… He holds my passion. All things natural and that stem grow from Azeroth are felt by the druids, but I feel the connection to the element that fosters growth and strength.
There was something about the ancient Dragonbane armory that was ever-changing. Suits of armor that were long buried becoming surfaced again, and newer pieces taking their place in the back of the huge room. Perhaps the servants changed them while they were being cleaned and kept, or perhaps the eye was just drawn to new things every time one entered the great hall that held plated raiments.
Dash passed by all the suits of armor that had been stocked to the side, each one polished and gleaming. Some were bright and suitable for a knight, others were dark and warped- seeming to bring to life the darker side of Azeroth.
Regardless, the suit that Lord Dragonbane sought out was absolutely ancient. It dated back to Tirisifal, where the younger of the Apocryphalt line refused to stay with the rest of the House. They became House Syn’pyre, and the Lord took with him this great and terrible garb.
Lord Ileyan’adash would be the first one to wear it since his fore-father, Sephral Apocryphalt. He reached out to pull free the pane of stained glass that encased it- a black rose with several vines wrapping about it hidden on the ornate display.
He then took down each piece and summoned his servants. They would work to reforging the smaller suit of armor to be suitable for its new wearer. Lord Ileyan’adash would revitalize the legacy of a great warrior with his own character, and this would be his symbol for the upcoming campaign against his former kin.
Vengeance and justification…
There was no sweeter way to dispatch the evil from your lineage.
Here we are! The newest addition to <House Dragonbane>
In light of our issues with some of the last forum, due to compatibility and difficulty in navigation- combined with the fact that we’ve yet to get a flash site up- I have assembled a Shivtr.
Please log on and apply if you’re a member, and please send all future applications here if you’re a new prospect!
So… You’re all cool as fuck. I got a shit ton of notes on that post, and hope to keep getting more. Thanks to the supporters I didn’t even know we had. Reblog so everyone that helped can see this shit!
House Dragonbane is recruiting!
You guys should totally take the time to reblog this and pass it around, so we can get the name out there. We’re working on an application process with our forums, and those accepted are given a 10-day trial before graduating to full membership.
Come be a part of the Dragonbane Dynasty— Er, *clears throat*.
You have grossly miscalculated your decisions.
Stepping over the viper’s pit, throwing hoards of precious metal to the raven...
The red whelp is not fit, and yet, your ability to rectify the situation with the pet you’ve captured and held close is in question also.
Perhaps this isn’t the life for you.
Give up, Ileyan’adash… You’re a relic of better times, and as hardened as you believe you are, the wear is settling upon you. Even with all of your light and artificial faith in a phoenix, your bones grow older with the stress of your actions.
I am not your enemy, old wyrm— No. I am what you must be aware of. More dangerous than that viper you tread on, and far more perilous than the ranks of another faction. Even the crippling sha that you feel creeping upon your skin as you fight it… they are nothing. I am the looming death that watches over you. The angel of darkness come to swallow you whole, and the savior of your true nature.
But for as fearful you are of me, you must fear yourself even more. When your body betrays your heart, and your heart betrays your mind, you find yourself on a destructive path. I enjoy watching it.
You will fall from your pedestal, so construct it of what you will. I will watch you close your eyes, ‘ancient paragon’.
— Speaking With Demons