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Admiral A.B.

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Admiral A.B. last won the day on August 28 2018

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  1. Admiral A.B.

    [Story] Into the Maws of the Void

    (This is also my goodbye to Unknown Shores. I am not one for theatrics or drama, but I needed to send out one last peaceful message to those few who have been with me throughout this journey, most of which left before I have. Faldrin is now a frozen statue somewhere in the jungle, victim to a sea of illusions, and perhaps someone will meet her again. As will I in the future.)
  2. Admiral A.B.

    [Story] Into the Maws of the Void

    Cutting through the jungle ferns and vines with her knife, Faldrin nearly crawled her way through the most dense jungle areas of Opej'nor. She made a good effort to avoid its most dangerous denizens, and scared away one of its oversized vipers with a fire show before it would get too close. Even as the terrain in front of her seemed impenetrable she kept going, her survival knife occasionally blazing with flames to help her carve a path in the thick vegetation. Her mind set on one direction, she cared little what she had to do to reach her destination. Even when the island would push her back in a last attempt to stop her she would reply with a flurry of jagged ice, opening a hole within the swaying, dark green wall big enough for her to jump into, not looking at the fall that awaited her below. And as she recovered, with a hand rubbing on her battered head, her bright green glowing eyes landed upon the image of her dreams. An uncharacteristic entrance, reminiscent of Thalassian architecture, disguising a cave going into the depths of the earth. To each side of the faux gate lied an anchor and a hammer, crossed to bar her way in. She prepared to muster her little strength and push them aside, but as she set her hands on each of the items they moved to let her pass. Unrelenting, she marched forward. "Moras?" The cave floor was as soft as the jungle. The walls were wide, and tightened around her with every step forward into the increasing darkness. "Moras?!" Her shoulderpads grazed on edges of rock and moss. Her hands and feet navigated through unfriendly territory, avoiding bumps and holes that could further injure her. "-Beoveld-!" A faint light at the end of the corridor shone upon a figure, donning green and gold armour, still partly shrouded by darkness. To the approaching Sin'dorei, it opened its arms. "Faldrin. I knew you'd come and find me." With little hesitation, she stepped forward. Her own arms spread to reflect his gesture. "As I promised I would." The figure stood still. The pristine metal nearly sparkled, contrasting with its surroundings, a lighthouse welcoming lost ships into the harbour. "We are reunited. Let us set sail once more, together, away from this cursed island. As captain and first mate." Faldrin stopped a few steps away from the Judge. She stared into the darkness covering his eyes, and she smiled. "You are wrong." Bringing her arms together only to sweep them upwards, she conjured three ice lances which burrow themselves into Moras' body, sinking themselves into his chest with ease. "You are not Moras. I will only join him!" Blood began to coat the spikes poking out of his body, completely still and nonreactive to the physical punishment it withstood. The man smiled, and the corners of his lips kept expanding outwards. "You will join me. In life or in death." His smile widens into a grin, and his grin expands into a maw. Slowly, his face now revealed by a light turned violet, strains as it is ripped into half, the tear splitting his head as an amalgam of blood and tentacles pours out with a deafening, guttural scream. The armour breaks off, the skin of his body peeling off alongside it, a naked body of the darkest of magics revealing itself to the nearly paralysed elf. The grotesque mass of tentacles, claws and ever-expanding void matter sheds its guise and envelops the cavern, surrounding the elf and approaching her from all directions. "You have no friends, no home, no safety. Your actions led you to your failure. What did you hope to achieve by coming here, into my trap?" As its monstrous voice shook the cavern, she stood still. Her expression was unmoving, as if frozen in place by her will or by the abomination toying with her past. "You will never escape this island. You will never redeem yourself. You have no hope, Faldrin Duskgale." Her arms slowly lifted up. As the creature roared, lashing out its myriad of limbs against her frail form, her visage would move. "You. Are. Wrong." With the wail of a banshee, her arms extended outwards, her eyes shining brightly blue and repelling the darkness of her foe. As the void reached out to strike her down it could not touch her. It could only retract, shrivelling from a frozen advance that cut sharp and bit harder. With a scream the darkness receded in an instant, leaving nothing but a glacier where it once stood. The fiend from below was defeated, with only one small price to pay. In Faldrin's mind, devoured by the void long before they met, there was peace. Beyond it, in the realm of the sane and the material, her frozen form was lost in the jungle, untouched by the elements and all living creatures, a permanent reminder to beware dreams and voices that will lure the unwary into a fate worse than hers.
  3. Admiral A.B.

    Drustgarde

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