Zz ifis yrr iiyoq.
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We will soon share a lovely Hallow’s End night with the Grim Gest. I am quite certain that this will be the night they will relinquish their heretic ways and find mercy & compassion under the Bright Lady’s Holy Light. 
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Zz ifis yrr iiyoq.
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The Grim servants of pernicious powers are rumored to keep a solid presence in western Tirisfal.
Dragonhawk company’s representatives in Tranquillen and the Sunsail Anchorage display a whole new array of exotic jewelery on their stalls.
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(Dernglen, made by Xotrios)
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Be a real mf and join
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Party rockers in the house tonight!
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Truce edition 
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Black clouds swirled over Thal’dranath, the Broken Shore.
Where once legions of Demons got vomited into realty from emerald charred worlds, now the land fumed from the consumed Fel magic boiling all over the region.
On the biggest promontory nowadays known to some as the “Screaming cliffs” a column of bats enveolped in a pitch black swirling mist crashed, screeching, onto a wide plane. In the middle of it, and unrecognizable to the eye of an ignorant trespasser, a small mound.
From dark smoke and crimson embers raining on the ground after the impact, Xotrios Drak’ash resumed his form, admiring what once had been the major temple of the region…twisted by the presence of what ancestors caged within.
The statues, to the undead, seemd proud to this day, the stern expressions of the maidens holding the bowls resolute through the burden of corruption…something the former Thalassian simpathized.
He paced towards the mound, with no care of the passing of time, and stopped in front of a battered banner, the colors and heraldry long gone.
Kneeling, he placed a silver bowl on the ground with great care, placing a shadowy crystal into it, as Thunderbinder had suggested. The Shadowmoon’s stones, the Dark shaman claimed, were tools shamans of old used to better commune with the spirits of ancestors.
The knight then uncorked a vial he produced from under his cloak, versing the pitch black ichor into the bowl.
Xotrios clawed at Drauk’hain’s flat side, the magical sword ringing and singing as her master tapped onto powers old as the age of the well of Eternity, and with a word of power the ichor and the crystal ignited with crimson flames, ever burning.
Closing his eyes, he spoke with a grim tone of voice after minutes in silence:
"I call for you, Serpent Plaguefist."
A dry wind howled over the broken plateau of the Shore, rattling the tattered flag at Xotrios’ side. A rock atop the burial mound began to shudder as the offering kept burning. A presence was there.
Xotrios knelt, heavily, as if suddenly freed from an heavy burden. He repeated: "Serpent Plaguefist, I call for you."
The burning blood of the former Serpent glowed as the purplish crystal began to pulse at heartbeat’s pace. A thick, misty blanket rising from the bowl, spreading around the area.
A voice, barely heard among the howl of the wind ghosted its way towards Xotrios’ ears: "Speak."
The San’layn barred his eyes briefly, letting out a short gasp. He recollected and nodded, keening his senses and focusing on the presence as he smiled to himself. The laconicity he would never forget, it was Him.
"I trust you hunt with your ancestors and companions. Did you witness from there,the events that occured since you…departed?".
Xotrios words were gentle, yet inside a thousands hells were burning. He was the one who had killed the orc, the echo of their duel fresh inside him after months.
"No."
A laconic answer, he was used to it. The former elf valued it above the empty barking of thousands foe, the loose promises of long gone nobles.
Xotrios nodded calmly, unexpectant. "A truce occured, a pact of non aggression…with the Saurfang Legion, or what remains of it. The Rotgarde and the Gest fights united to this day, thanks to you…too."
The undead allowed himself and the presence a few moments, and the silence was returned.
"Nowadays we prepare, for the Lich who betrayed us gathers an army in the Frozen Wastes. The temple city is manned to no end…and we will head there. I know not if there will be a chance to act on our foes, but I expect betrayal and incompetence from the others.
Plaguefist, I seek not to disturb what rest you have earned, for that is yours and yours alone, but if you are willing to help or share wisdom, then I urge you to do so. For if the path of the Gest is led by the stars above, I lack vision of what awaits us as jointed units, and myself".
The Duke nodded firmly after and paused again, exhaling through his nostrils as if still necessary for him to breath for once.
"Seek the Jormungandr" The scant reply was carried on the wind, and Xotrios knew what it meant.
"Seek out the nerubians. Those that yet live. Their tunnels may provide a route within."
Xotrios nodded and looked around him, rising his gaze with a wary expression.
"No one fell, of ours. Nor any of the Queensgarde, since you have left. I brought something."
Xotrios then produced a vial from under his cloak. Its content swirled in a mix of liquid and blue vapour, ever twisting. The Dreamless Sleep potion he then closed in a very small chest, that he proceeded to bury delicately into the ground. "I remember you made use of those back then."
"For the Executor. To ward her from the path of the Baron."
Xotrios barred his eyes, unable to hide is stupor he looked around instinctively, vulnerable.
"…So they were for Her" he said, staring at the ground in front of him in a carnival of emotions agumented by the malificient powers keeping his corpse undead, tormenting the knight while he processed the revelation.
"She was plagued with dreams of the deep."
"I can carry your words, if you want any to reach her."
"I will save a seat by the fire."
The undead allowed himself a smile, inhaling. As he did his magical aura roared, bolstered by renewed vigor. His visage also, less burdened.
"I want you to know, that I remain true to what I have learnt. Always I will, Serpent. It helped me greatly and I own you that, my missing arm be testament of my words."
He spoke while passing clawed fingers onto the Dreadwake shoulderpad he had inherited.
"See them safely through the night."
"I swear." Xotrios knelt, patting his chest with supreme pride.
As the presence began to fade, the stone growing stiller, Xotrios pulled himself up, Drauk’hain glowing of a crimson hue, suffucated by pitch black vapor, a magic too fierce to be craft of men. He asked as he straightened further, rising his chin with contempt: "Serpent Plaguefist, what is the name of your frostwyrm?"
"Dreadwing."
Xotrios dipped his head respectfully, with imperishable convinction and supernatural contempt. He looked up at the cosmos above until he finally closed his eyes, bathing in thoughts as he waited for the presence to go, silent.
As the presence faded, Xotrios offered a ceremonial salute, then collected the tools with great care, leaving at a slow pace after.
"In life and death, Serpent."
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Serpent Koiffen, made by the great and talented Brokensun-Argent Dawn, a recent addition to our guild roster, and a good friend of mine!
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Northrend
In the shadows of the abandoned naga shrine, on a balcony ruined by battle and time, Xotrios closed his eyes. The Darkfallen spent hours studying the ancient map he took for himself, from what once were his training grounds: Naxxanar, the necropolis nowadays occupied by the Lich Nhaazur.
The undead conditioned his mind, his concience led from invisible hands as he crossed the realms of Mortals and the Mind, of Beasts and the Fang, of demi-gods and beyond, losing himself into an experience mortal mind could barely process as a torrent of supernatural phenomenons and visions.
Until he fell from roaring heavens of ever changing colors, clouds becoming yellow and crimson, twisting like a whirlpool on the wake of his descent. A column of smoke on its trail, flickering of a carnival of lights. On his descent he witnessed as the blurred figures of demons raised their claws to release a futile barrage of magic, none potent enough to harm his traveling conscience in that vision.
Xotrios kept descending, led by invisible gelid currents that led him to a promontory burning of emerald fel flames, fiery violet arcane and the natural ones cast by a thousand of elven shadows. The undead felt like shrinking as he made his way through what looked like a maw shaped into the rocks, finally crashing into the darkness of a lair.
The knight stood, and he could hear the low, hissed chant of magi he could not see nor discern the language they were using. Air shimmered with raw magical power and the smell of blood and brimstone felt nauseating even for a master of the Arts.
A gigantic form made its way through ghostly, crimson mist, its tail lashing once and it was thunder, shaking the ground and what remained of his soul. Monstrous wings snapped and crimson reptilian eyes opened to stare at Xotrios, the presence alone depriving him of all initiative.
He felt what at first seemed like the familiar, unintelligible growling whisper of his sword. Drauk’hain, forged for the first son of the head of the Drak’ash at the times of the battle for the Well of Eternity, was the only relic passed through generations. A sword of raw magic, fabled to have been carried in battle by those who tempered steel with emerald breaths of their draconic companions…nowadays twisted by damnation and the craft of Baron Morsteth Blightreek.
The sword pulsed and spoke as the twisted dragon making its way through the fog coiled, bellowing. It was then Xotrios realized that in there, he could tell what the sword spoke to him.
"Brace".
The undead had no time to process, as the Dragon stretched to close her clawed hand around the San’layn, the undead paralyzed into the grip.
"I do not fear the blade you carry." The beast spoke, now into vision Xotrios stared in awe at her twisted form. What was but a carcass with pumping veins and muscles kept together by pernicious powers radiated murderous magic, the words hurting the undead’s mind like the sharpest of blades. Her eyes burned of a thousand crimson hells and it took efforts for the undead not to let himself lost, and dead for good, under the pressure of her gaze alone.
"I do not need to live" The dragon continued, and it anticipated the knight’s thoughts.
"You are not the first" Again the dragon spoke, answering what questions were yet to formulate into the undead’s trained brain.
Xotrios felt vulnerable, unable to think, to process, to plan. A trial? A test? A curse? The forbidden power he delved into had never been direct, never timed, never stable…
The dragon hissed at a paniced yell coming from the outside, her reptilian eyes grave, saddened. The undead could feel the sense of dread, the desperation, the pain as Drauk’hain whimped when it happened, glowing of crimson.
Demonic roars echoed all around, the clash of steel and the roar of magic grew closer and closer. Death. A moment of dreadful silence came, respite for Xotrios that tried to summon the magical sword into his spare hand, frowning his nose, defiant now and ever calculating.
The sword did not move.
"We have lost". At the dragon’s imperious statement the san’layn’s blade ringed, soaring to spiral seven times around dragon and knight to then dart towards them, stabbing Xotrios into his heart as the air tore apart, screeching.
The knight barred his eyes, betrayed by his one companion he found what measure of defiance and pride he had left within him to finally ask while rain fell through the one fissure above. Everything went blur.
"Who are you"
The dragon and the sword spoke at unison:
"Drauk’hain".
Xotrios opened his eyes, gasping for air as if still alive after years. He scratched at his neck, then cheeck.
Scales.
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Looking forward to a new year with the grim gang. 
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These guys are great bad guys
Also I love killing Morsteth
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I had to sacrifice my firstborn to join the PCU’s most evil guild and I have zero regrets.
Ngl the void kinda slaps.
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Beware, and a-VOID these guys if you must.
Hehehe.
Laugh damn it.
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i love morsteth yes i do
(please dont void me)
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Thanks for the five days in ghostlands! Trolls might have failed but trolls never die!
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Was the Grim Gest… right all along ? When will these based gamers be wrong about something ? You should probably join to find out.
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Damn man, I really love these guys. They have such cool t-mogs and are such good rp’ers. Wowie. Man, I would love to be a GG Gang member when I grow up.
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Just finished a campaign in Alterac with Waldengarde, Eaglecrested and co. now moving to our next campaign further north
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