Crisis of Faith...
Shiryou's taking a bit of a break for the time being Reassessing prorities and whatnot. Bruiser, Cabot, I apologise if I've mucked you up Hopefully not though...
The crystal shattered into a thousand fragments, the soul within spiralling upwards into the blackened sky. The tortured body of the tauren fell, crumbling into the red dust of the Blasted Lands almost instantly.
With a low growl Shiryou slammed his staff into the ground, turned towards his two comrades, two Horde who counted themselves on the list of the very few people he respected. The great veteran warrior, Bruiser, and the wise priest Cabot. Both members of PI - whom, of course, he had....tentative relationships now - but in the interest of freeing the tortured servants of Razelikh from their fate, there had been a temporary truce.
They were almost done. Seventeen of the old guard were now freed; only one more remained, and Shiryou could already see the last of the soliders shuffling in the distance.
"They won't do this again," he growled to the others, aiming a kick at one of the cultists as he walked towards them. Gods but the death screams of those bastards was sweet after what they had inflicted upon those soldiers...
Bruiser turned then, to eye the warlock. "Trapping souls in shards...you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"
Shiryou stopped dead.
"It's not like that!" he spat. "I don't...force their bodies to serve me! I'm no necromancer!"
As the others turned to the last of the prisoners Shiryou remained behind, suddenly feeling colder than he usually did. One of his precious soul shards was in his hands, and he looked at it, suddenly reviled. For ages he had done this, torn souls from dying bodies. Countless beasts, demons and humanoids had fallen to his might, their essences used to power his most potent abilities. It had meant nothing to him before, merely another bargaining tool for power. It was only now, faced with the torment that Razelihk had inflicted on those Horde that the enormity of what he did hit him.
Days later he was still dwelling on this. Routing out the Scourge did nothing to help. Slaughtering the elves in Ashenvale felt pointless. Even the promises of the power of the Dreadsteed from his masters meant little. With each soul he captured, even though most were from the vile satyr of Azshara, it tormented him more and more.
He retreated from Orgrimmar to the place he knew best - the ruins of Lordaeron. Lordaeron, not the scum-filled wasteland beneath it. There he stayed, aimlessly wandering, trying to make sense of where this sudden crisis of faith in what he did had come from.
Shiryou heads off to cause chaos in Elwynn
Written on the very last page of Shiryou's journal. The handwriting ranges from small, neat notes to vicious scrawls. It appears this page is on a constant state of updating.
<u>To Kill List</u>
Magen Rhul - need to 'speak' with Ras Frostwhisper. He may know.
Takumi- has disappeared. Good.
Cabot- no point. Already overthrew him.
Che(appears scribbled out before even finished)
Thrakan and his dumb Wolves(quite firmly scrawled out)
Cham ChamCham (apparently can't make up his mind)
Ravenstein - Done.
COLJUN (the most recent addition and viciously scribbled in)