Sulg Stuff

A form in tan and dark blue robes strode down a hallway lit by only the occasional torch flame. Unholy, green embers fell to the ground, and the sot that crept up the walls was an entity in its own; those who could attune themselves to fel energies would notice the daemonic voices that would drip from them. It was enough to drive any decent creature mad.

Fortunatly for the wandering figure, that was a bygone issue.

A neatly-kept black beard adorned the Sin'Dorei's face, his upper lip clear of any hair. A heavy leather hood lay over his head and temple, a light green glow eminating from his eyes. It took several more minutes until the sorceror was able to navigate the rest of the crypts in order to reach the correct chamber. He had duitifully followed the countless walkways and halls until he knew that he had entered a new world all its own. Heavy runed curtains hung from the crumbling ceiling above, swaying in an unnatural breeze, as if the centre of the room was breathing in and out in weak gasps, inhealing and exhaling with the steadiness of a Gnome's train of throught.

"Who dares enter this damned domain?" a deep voice demanded, curtains and lights swaying and flickering from the words. The Sin'Dorei slowed his steps, but continued them he did. He managed to force a small grin to appear on his face, his right hand gripping a cane as he pulled himself forward, wobbling, yet unfaultering. "It is I, Sulgaranosh Sa'Vae of Azeroth. I seek enlightenment, Great Soulstripper."

A cackle resonated off the walls all around the fallen elf, shaking its foundation as chunks off the stone walls fell from its ceiling. The mage continued forward, the silhouette of a ribbonned and patched figure coming into view through several layers of cloth. The elf felt his very core begin to shake at the raw power the being before him held, his mind screaming at him-demanding him to turn back and leave this place. But Sulgaranosh knew the key to his coming existed within the mind of this creature. If only he could manage to gain its respect-he would have it all.

"A name I know not-but care even less for! Why have you come, pitiful wyrm? Do you seek to be butchered by a worthy hand of the ethereal, or to beg and grovel at my feet for power? Neither comes easy, in these halls."

Sulgaranosh clutched his chest with his free hand, his cane wobbling as he pulled himself on. He had reached the first barrier of the Soulstripper. Torn and mutated faces coursed up and down in front of him in a wall of seemingly endless shadow and suffering, floating from the floor to the high, pitched ceiling. The voices became louder in his head. They called to him, begging him to join them. They promised him eternal life-existence longer than any mortal could comprehend. But the Sin'Dorei had meditated for many days at time on just this offer, and knew it to be a tainted and cursed promise. To give himself to these entities would mean the lose of his body and being; to be damned to be a suffering, empty soul for the ethereal's never-ending appetite. He took a slow, practiced step forward, his head moving through the wall.

Pain coursed from his skull down to his feet, and despite his best efforts, and audible groaned forced its way open through his lips. Had he not held all of his weight upon the cane, Sulgaranosh was certain he would have collapsed in a heap upon the floor-foiling his chances for any acceptance to the Soulstripper. Again, the bellowing laughter was heard from the other side of the chamber, though it seemed much closer now.

"Pitiful mortal! Give it up. The weight of your own consciousness weighs you down. Relieve yourself of such a foolish burden. I would satiate my hunger, and give your soul such a luxurious existence deep in the hollowed pit of my stomach!" Once more the daemonic cackle arose, followed by an inhuman shriek. Sulgaranosh could spot the shadow of a figure falling to the fel lord's side, red and green blood dripping down the thing's steps and collecting in a boiling pool and its bottom. "Oh, how I hunger so. I crave the living, Sulgaranosh...I do so..."

The mage grunted, hefting himself forward. He knew the second, and last realm before him would still not be the hardest challenge. This barrier consisted of the near-pure essence of magic itself. Such chaos could be handled by only a gifted few in existence, and to survive in its exposition meant power in its own. Sulgaranosh had seen gifted Kiron Tor mages ripped apart before his very eyes trying to conjure such a material, their entire beings twisted and manipulated into savage, darkened forms. In one case, a rather unlucky mage had his flesh burned off of his own skin from the summoning of neutral magic, his revealed muscle screaming in pain to its center upon contact with any surface. The human had spent his last hours in agony-in a way, a form of something pure. Though, it was certainly not the magic.

Now was the time. With as deep a breath as the sorceror could muster, he thrust himself through the wall. Instantly, his form became alive in an agony he had never felt before. It seemed as if his heart was trying to split into countless pieces, as if to seperate and force its way through his veins across his body, to tear his very existance apart. The nails on his fingers began to claw at the flesh below them, blood dripping through his gloves. The chain connecting the feathered hand of a Arakkoa shaman gripped his throat, reaching desperately to squeeze the remenants of air out from his lungs. He felt his jaw slacken and then tighten back, crushing the tip of his tongue as it flopped lossely in his mouth, attempting to spit out curses in exotic and unholy languages.

Sulgaranosh fell in a heap through the wall, his body writing in pain. Unable to control his own mind, bolts of shadow essence flew from his finger tips. Failed spells coursed around his frame, his robes growing soaked with his own blood and his now mottled flesh. He could feel exposed bone rubbing against his turban, the cloth from it now dripping down the side of his face in an impossibly freezing flame. A deep scream once again rose from his mouth, his lips instantly drying and cracking at its touch. He suddenly wanted death more than anything; an end to all this pain-this impossible pain. He wanted to be ripped from the husk he was chained to, to be free of his cage. It seemed as if he had existed in this state for the life periods of entire worlds.

Then, suddenly, the pain left him, and the last of his form left the barrier. What was left of his mind pulled his gaze upwards, to the tall, bandaged form before him. It hovered from over the floor atop its pedestal, and Sulgaranosh could barely make out the crude curve of a grin from the thing. No-he himself did not have to die...this creature did. He-the righteous one-the powerful one, had to rip the collected souls from his ethereal. He was promised their ownership if he could defeat such a power host.

He lunged out with all the strength left in his body, a surge of energy flying from his free hand towards the daemon. It spread harmlessly across the thing's chest, and a booming laugh rose from its form. Sulgaranosh began clambering up the steps to the top of the pedestal, his every movement begging him to accept his end. But he had to prevail. He had to prove his worth to the Soulstripper. What was left of his finger nails began to dull and break away as his clawed at the stone steps, screaming curses at the being atop it as loud as he could. His voice grew hoarse, his words decaying surprisingly faster than his own strength.

"Unworthy heathen! Return from whence you came! You are undeserving of my unholy damnations-you do not even deserve to be in my presence!" The Sin'Dorei continued on despite the thing's words, his cane clattering at the last step of the staircase. Sulgaranosh's hood fell back to his neck, blood streaking down his scalp and face as his eyes met the unholy being before him. He pushed himself to a stand, his back craned forward as if a Titan had gripped his spine and twisted it like the mountains of Dun Morogh. Still, the mage pressed on, his consciousness fading, his vision growing dizzy and blurred.

Sulgaranosh then reached out towards the daemon, his hand breaking the thing's aura and surpassing its barriers. At last, the Great Soulstripper reacted, a deep grunt eminating from it. With the slightest twist of his hand, he threw the mage's form up against the wall beside them, the Sin'Dorei's form crumpling in a broken and bloodied collection of flesh and cloth. The Soulstripper then groaned with approval, his voice echoing all around Sulgaranosh. "Interesting. Perhaps you will not accompany the other forsaken inside my stomach, just yet. I will allow you to survive another day...When you return to this world, you will be tested."

And then, all became black to the mage. All the pain and suffering he had gone through to reach the ehtereal left him, and his head fell back against the wall, the green light of his eyes blinking out.

The eternal sleep of his last shred of humane thought began just as his shadow was awakened.

((Interesting story...especially coming from a priest. /strokes chin.))