Disappointing

[Îî-tichondrius-795388]

So much potential…far more than the unstable son of Hellscream ever showed…more than the pathetic “Dark Titan” and his angst-driven crusade…

So much potential…only to have her fear exposed…her fundamental anxiety revealed at the final moment…before she had seen it through…before she had overcome.

She has always been obsessed with suffering…with her torment. But she never embraces it. Always running from it…

Her flight led her over the edge of Icecrown. Only for her to discover that suffering pursued her even into the Hungering Darkness. And, at long last, it had cornered her there…

Still, resourceful as she is, Sylvanas managed to elude her fate…evade her destiny…just to take up a fanatical quest to conquer death in the hopes of avoiding the terrifying life she faced there.

In the end, it is her fear of life—of conscious existence in all of its forms—and its myriad of sufferings that will always be her prison no matter how far she runs…no matter how much power she acquires, no matter whose will she manages to bend to her cause…no matter what chains she breaks or binds.

In the end, it will be her end.

Had only she embraced her fear-of/as-suffering for its own sake…

Had she only acknowledged her obvious predilection for violence and cruelty not as a means to some angst-fueled purpose, but as her purpose…

The End in Itself…

Had only her war, which began with such luminous ecstasy, been the artform that she shared with this world…

Had only she accepted her hatred of life as the meaning of meaningless existence…

Had only she seen that, indeed, suffering alone lasts in the nothingness…

What she could have been…what she should have been…

Worse …what we…the Forsaken…the Horde…all of the denizens of Azeroth could have become through her. What we almost became…what we were, for but a brief moment…a delectable taste…of what is to come…

The agony we could have caused…the monument to suffering that we could have built…it would have eclipsed a thousand Icecrowns…a thousand Burning Teldrassils…

Disappointing…

…but alas, hope remains…

[Rethul-moon-guard]

You approach truth, but you have yet to touch it, Forsaken.

Life is not without meaning- but that meaning is not suffering.

Nor is it joy.

Life’s meaning is to propagate. Life’s meaning is change. Life’s meaning is self-fulfilling. Life’s meaning is life.

Windrunner fears life. Fears change. She wishes to remain static.

Even in death, she will not find stasis- especially not for all that she has done.

But that is fine… for when We reach her- and it is inevitable that We will- We will show her the grandeurs of change. We will embrace her in Our majesty, and welcome her into Our fold. She will know the beauty of life.

Whether she wants to or not.

One way or another, Sylvanas Windrunner will be changed. Be it in life, or in death.

It is a certainty.

[Îî-tichondrius-795388]

Indeed, my wayward elf, life’s meaning is self-fulfilling…

But I am afraid that it is you who have approached but not yet touched the truth.

Your tautology is accurate, life’s meaning is life, because life is suffering–suffering as self-othering – the essence of change and self-propagation.

So while what you say is accurate, it is your failure to see the meaning of your own words that keeps you blind to the true beauty of life.

How unfortunate this is given your obvious predilections… perhaps you should listen to the whispers of the void more closely…

Did you not hear the delightful music in the screams of the Kaldorei as they burned…? Do you not see the majesty in the impotency of their anguish, which will burn within their hearts unceasingly…consuming them whole until they have become the very reflection of their enemy?

You are another disappointment elf… but maybe that can change…

[Perfectia-moon-guard]

I see a woman moving forward.
I see a someone that is refusing to accept there fate.
I see a woman failing and getting right back up again.
I see someone meeting every trouble squarely, face to face.
I see someone that believes that something different can happen.
I see someone that doesn’t always win but isn’t afraid of making decisions.
I see a person surrounded by traitors and nonbelievers believing that she is right.
I see someone that keeps failing and will keep failing, but won’t give up and will keep fighting.
I see someone surrounded in dark clouds who future many seem grim that refuses to lose there nerve.
I see someone that is willing to fight to accomplish there goals and lose all terror of the opposition for that goal.
I see someone about to face the worst bound things that will happen, regardless of any plans to oppose them, but I know full well that running or retreat will not options for her. Because she knows running won’t save her.
I see someone that can’t see past the tired war or past endless conquest. Even if she gets everything she wants, then what?
I see someone that refuses to look inward and start asking themselves the big questions, “Who are you and what do you want?”
I see someone that doesn’t know what makes them happy and it is disappointing.

(I felt this poem fit her.)

Though victory’s proof of the skill you possess,
Defeat is the proof of your grit;
A weakling can smile in his days of success,
But at trouble’s first sign he will quit.
So the test of the heart and the test of your pluck
Isn’t skies that are sunny and fair,
But how do you stand to the blow that is struck
And how do you battle despair?

A fool can seem wise when the pathway is clear
And it’s easy to see the way out,
But the test of man’s judgment is something to fear,
And what does he do when in doubt?
And the proof of his faith is the courage he shows
When sorrows lie deep in his breast;
It’s the way that he suffers the griefs that he knows
That brings out his worst or his best.

The test of a man is how much he will bear
For a cause which he knows to be right,
How long will he stand in the depths of despair,
How much will he suffer and fight?
There are many to serve when the victory’s near
And few are the hurts to be borne,
But it calls for a leader of courage to cheer
The men in a battle forlorn.

It’s the way you hold out against odds that are great
That proves what your courage is worth,
It’s the way that you stand to the bruises of fate
That shows up your stature and girth.
And victory’s nothing but proof of your skill,
Veneered with a glory that’s thin,
Unless it is proof of unfaltering will,
And unless you have suffered to win.

(Edgar Albert Guest)

[Gulgalogos-wyrmrest-accord]

Clearly, the hungering darkness of domination speaks through you Undead, but Rethul spoke correctly when he said that you have not touched the truth, only its shadow.

Suffering is a perversion of the true meaning of life…love.

Love…compassion…is the only genuine means of self-othering.

Suffering is a twisted reflection, a shadow cast by the void of the Maw.

Yet, in the depths of this void, in the darkest fathoms of Death’s Shadow, the Light of Love burns the brightest, embracing all with its compassion…even the likes of your disappointing Banshee Queen.

It is for this reason that Anduin Wrynn is the only king the Alliance has ever had, indeed, that this world has ever had, who is strong enough to face the darkness that you herald.

[Lunene-moon-guard (Lunene)]

“Hah. Don’t cut yourself on that edge, boy. You know, I may have a distate for Calia Menethil, but at least she’ll neuter the withering remnants of you Forsaken as you damn well deserve. No more war crimes, there’s a good lad.”

(EDIT: oof, the post necro’ing-)

[Gulgalogos-wyrmrest-accord]

(yeah, I was reposting some of my old stories/forum rp that were lost with the forum reboot of a couple of years ago and necro’ed this one with a reply that I had intended to add back then on a different character but never got around to doing…pretty sure Classic was just out or something )

(Edit: Also, cutting oneself on the edge is half of the fun!)