BLOG IS NOW ARCHIVED!
I will be bringing back Arthas again soon under a new URL/blog. :^)
I will be bringing back Arthas again soon under a new URL/blog. :^)
I will be bringing back Arthas again soon under a new URL/blog. :^)
‘Let them come. Frostmourne hungers.’
i seriously can’t believe this is a statue
I noticed that this is the second anon message I’ve received in relation to necroarchy. Whoever is sending them, I have to ask you to stop. Necroarchy and I are friends, and the anons are rather invasive, rude and demeaning towards them. So they took my FC? Big deal. It’s just cropped little pictures of an actor for a video game character that isn’t mine where I write for fun on the Internet. It could be worse.
I just don’t like seeing people treat my friends like that, so please don’t send me any more asks. Thank you.
necroarchy stole your fc
Hello, Anon…I just noticed this in my inbox due to my absence.
While I do know I was the first to use Skasgård as my faceclaim for Arthas out of us two, I don’t really mind if other people who write the same muse use it. I mentioned it to them before, but now, I don’t mind. I’m not going to get mad at them for it.
I do get upset if people steal my stuff, but this is a faceclaim that anyone can pick. If I go batshit over that, it wouldn’t end well.
once more, he grew too PERSONAL, it was no longer JUST his words, but now actions. the DISGUSTING name, ‘ dear ’, it left a bitter taste in her mouth, EYES would glare harshly —- STANCE was tense, hostile, filled with pure hatred. he grew near while she would take a STEP or two back, click of each heel against the COOL ground that was covered in thick ICE.
‘ so you claim. ‘
remaining stern, though WARY of every movement he would make, he was STRONGER—-larger, the DARK lady was no fool, she knew all too well as to what POWER arthas held, && with such knowledge, she’d only hope to KEEP distance between them.
‘ perhaps keeping your distance— it’s never EASY shooting an arrow from such a lack of RANGE. ‘
a minor threat.
HE COULD TELL, from the moment she gazed upon in a WARM HORROR, to the instant she stepped away, that he still MEANT something to her. No matter how much she wished, no matter how much she tried, SHE COULD NEVER ESCAPE THE PAST.
And he was there to make sure of it.
“ Do you think me that STUPID, Sylvanas? “ The hiss was ice cold. Another crunch of the dead ground underneath his weight as he shifted once more, locks of white hair spilling out amongst his black-plated armor as Arthas nearly hung above her. At such a height that loomed above other men, Arthas was now towering. A gloved hand twitched at his side, raising slightly, slowly.
“ Because you certainly treat me as you do. “
Dream Theater - Pull Me Under (Images and Words, 1992)
You shall be king.
if i can’t have you no one fucking can
’ i could have gone the REST of my days without EVER needing to look upon your being ever again, clearly it hasn't been LONG enough. ‘ being addressed by her last name had RUBBED the queen the wrong way, TOO personal it was in her books, && as such, she was DISGUSTED, though it did not take much for arthas to bring about such a feeling.
“ GOOD TO KNOW, in all honesty, dear.” The King SNEERS as he looks down upon her, not as a servant, NOR EVEN A PERSON, for he is NOW that heartless, that dark. He saunters over to her, the difference in their bodies clearly, and almost painfully, visible. He could CRUSH HER with both of his hands, if he WANTED TO. He COMPARES her, SADISTICALLY, to a bone: thin and easy to snap into pieces.
“ I, however, beg to differ. “
“ WINDRUNNER, “ he begins, as if oddly solemn and chilled. No ounce of LOVE or CARE was carried in his voice; it showed in the cold that spewed between cracked lips. HE DARE NOT touch her, for it was a SADISTIC PLEASURE enough just to gaze upon the ROT QUEEN, as it usually was.
“ It’s been too long, hasn’t it? “
ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴄʜ ᴋɪɴɢ & ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀɴsʜᴇᴇ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ
A quick death…like the one you gave me? No. You’re going to suffer as I did. Thanks to my arrow, you can’t even run. Give my regards to hell, you son of a bitch.
Standing straight faced. It is your fate. Calling my name, calling me pain, and if you stay, you’ll bite the scythe.
Arthas by SaeedRamez @ deviantart
@isblod
THIS WAS IT. the official close. the coup de grace. the finale chaotique. Koltira stayed close to his own battalion; those few surviving Death Knights who had chosen to side with the Horde. Sin'dorei, Tauren, Orcs, the occasional Forsaken. those who had been cheated out of life an given a second– NO – third chance in death.
the grip he had on his runeblade promised death, coated in the gorey, pustule-covered flesh of an ABOMINATION. had it been only a year ago, the sound of rattling chains within the CITADEL would’ve been a sign of home. of a city built to house the great military that had successfully taken over Northrend, and soon, the entire world. down the Argent Dawn would go, the deaths of the Scarlet Crusade nothing more than a soothing bedtime tale. but that was no longer possible. no. Tirion had granted them their sanity. their ability. and now… what were they to do? the defilers of azeroth, those chosen and taken from their very homelands, risen like DOGS to do arthas’ dirty work. but what good were they to the living? nothing. not now. not ever.
not unless this could be the end to the Lich King’s tyrade.
hoards of skeletal foes, some small, some as tall as the citadel’s ceiling itself, besieged his squadron. but Koltira broke through– piles of severed both fell to mingle with the icy floor, the sound of his plate boots crashing away with each heavy-footed leap. he went on ahead, as he was so known to do ( oh, let’s not forget that little escapade in New Hearthglen! ). but the world was not right. the air had become still, and no enemies beset him in the mirror-like room of ice and fallen steel.
with one hand he lifted his runeblade, and turned so that the glow of his Lichfire eyes could be seen over bulky, black spauldrers. for a moment, he wished he could be alive. to feel the cold bite of ICE sting his hollowed cheeks. but all that could befriend him was the echoed tone of his own voice, left rotten and sharp from years left unused. real, or illusion. it didn’t matter. he’d face it HEAD-ON all the same!
❝ ARTHAS. ❞
TO THOSE THAT STILL wished for breath, to those that still clung to even the smallest hope to be back to a NATURAL LIFE, it started to fester inside of him ( much like things did with his frigid body ) that the notion was USELESS.Wouldn’t those who sided with him think the same? That after their death, he had given them a purpose? If that purpose was not to be FOOD for the WHIPPINGS and icy slaves to the frozen Citadel.
Gauntlet-covered hand pulled the dreaded Frostmourne forward, a DEATHLY CHILL surrounded the blade, snow flames gathered as it gave off a sickly blue glow. The Lich King looked on, and all he saw was NOTHING OF VALUE. Arthas might have seen something else, however, maybe something to give the slightest shred of mercy to. But said mercy had long-since been BURIED, deep underneath BLACK, FRIGID ice and the sickening stench of CORPSES PILED HIGH.
The remains of a sharp, deadly grin is seen between thin lips and an ebony-coloured helm.
"̸ ̢W͝H͞A͝T̡ ͜ís͞ ͞it ͟t͜hat you҉ ̀p̶la̕n ̧on҉ ̀W̢AS̨TI͘NG b̛ef͝o͏r̴e ̷m҉e̷ n͘òw̷?̸ "̵