The sound of metal crushing stone. The screams of terror and pain. The sound of a fire crackling. And a maddening cackle rolling through the air. The Felreavers were marching forward, the green skies of Shadowmoon Valley granting them a sickly terrifying visage as it is. And against them stood but a mere outpost of mixed Alliance members and Horde, foolishly holding in a last stance. The camp was under siege for the last hour, and already the casualties of the mortals was grim. The machines trudged on and on, and whenever one fell two came in its place.
A Gnome riflemen stood in his tower, desperately letting round after round from his rifle to the waves of steel with deafening loud bangs. He was huffing and sweating, and his pants were soiled with urine. The sight reflected in the goggles he wore as he shrieked out in terror.
"Ohshit it's a warlo-" His screams were silenced by the swooping wave of purple flames, searing the wood of his tower and scorching the Gnome severely, more shrieks, now of agony, escaping his badly marred throat. He coughed blood and winced, looking up with burnt eyes. He could not blink. His eyelids had fused inside of his skull.
"Have mercy..." His tiny little voice said in a hoarse whisper before the wood of the tower he was in collapsed down on his form, killing him. On the hills beside the camp the forms began arising. An Orc. A Sin'dorei, who's skin was a tainted red. And finally, a towering woman, a pair of massive wings to her back.
"Let fire rain!" The winged creature yelled, all three pointing at the camp as from the skies they came. Massive burning forms. Burning molten stone with an untameable wrath, the three huge orbs of flame and stone crashing into the boarders of the camp, opening a huge segment of the wall as the infernals took no pause as destruction raged.
Screams echoed from the camp, the defenders wiped out as if a brink of an eye had merely passed. The large winged creature smiled darkly, the slaughter finally over as it wondered in the ruins. Splattered gore and limbs laid all over the ground as if something taken out of a man's worst nightmare. Skin was flayed and corpses burning were found galore. It whistled a contrasting merry tune from its blackened cracked lips, eyeing the destruction with an unhealthy glee and enjoyment in its black eyes.
The silence and eerie tune were cut short by a wheezing cough.
"Help... Someone..." Called out an Orc. His entire lower segment crushed beneath a massive piece of a wall from a nearby barracks. He was bleeding profoundly, but he seemed to be alive and kicking. His red eyes traced up to the monstrous form above him, perhaps in delusion he reached his hand up in thought of it to be his salvation.
He was wrong.
A clawed finger pointed at his form, a horrendous white smile showing behind a black shadowy form. And from the tip of that finger, drew a small ball of purple flames, one which soon burst into a searing cone as the Orc was roasted alive swiftly, his heavy screams of agony cut short by the flames.
"It's good to be home." Sangreala Saumerian Skysearer smiled grimly, returning her merry stroll of the carnage.
In silence, Efee sat. The table in front of her set out with 3 tables on each side, each in perfect symmetry to the one in front of it. It was covered by a black table cloth, set within a small abandoned cave in Deadwind pass. Upon the table were set four plates, each with its own slab of meat upon it and still steaming hot. The candles in the middle of the table flickered as Efee ate in silence, occassionaly sipping from her alcoholic drink, her eyes never closing as she stared ahead.
The shadows on the walls danced around her, in the forms of monsters, licking her ears and caressing her skin with their terrible claws, as in front of her the Demoness smiled. The dark blue Eradar smiling widely to Efee.
"Good evening Efee."
The Eradar said to the Draenei, who in turn drank from her glass once more, the shadows dancing ever around her within the pale light of the candles, the two Draenei men on each side of the table nodding to Efee, each in turn, their head without eyes. Simply ghastly black holes.
"Mother."
The smaller one said.
"My love."
The man said, each in his own cold tone.
Efee stayed in silence, eating slowly as the three figures stared at her with the blackness of their eyes, and the thin unmoving line of their mouths. The shadows slithered around Efee, whispering darkly to her... They touched her in everywhere their claws could sink in, and yet the Draenei did not move.
Slowly, the light of Efee's eyes traced to the man. In a silent stand, he and she stood up. He took her hand in his, and wrapped her arm around his waist as he supported her, the two beginning a slow dance with not but the cackles and hisses of the looming shadows around them. They were jealous. They wanted her. But they could not have her. None could have her.
And so danced the Draenei alone in the cave, only her thoughts to accompany her.
Slowly, the sun rose. The eye of the Earthmother in her chase for her sister, gracing the world with her warm sight and her light. Slowly, the light of dusk came in a shower of golden light upon the endless green and rolling planes, showing all its beautiful grace and life. The Kodos traveled with a slow lazy pace, embracing the sun on their hide with a pleased rumble. The deer and antelope ran and galloped throughout the green paradise, their hooves embracing the earth beneath them in ever existing harmony. A bear has brought back a freshly hunted salmon, still dripping water from the stream to feed its cubs, the young ones devouring the fish with a delighted growl, nuzzling up to their mother.
And among the awakening of the world, was Kina.
The black furred girl stood atop the nearby edge of the camp, her spear held firm in hand as her lips curled in a smile. She always awoke earlier than the rest to view the world coming to life, all before her eyes. She took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air, the light breeze welcoming her back in its gentle kiss of a gust. She stretched in the wake of the world, and greeted the Earthmother with a blow from her horn, the melody of offering for the earth. Along the wake of her horn, it was time for the Tribe to awaken.
From the tents of leather, adorned with drawings, emerged the tribe. From the elderly, to the calves, the day has begun. The wisewoman of the tribe has gathered the females of the tribe, Kina among them, for their chant to the earthmother. Donned in the skinned hide of a bear, the wisewoman held up high her staff, the tip of it holding a lit incense. They began chanting, traveling through the tribe's current settlement to awaken those still in slumber with the melody of embracing voices. A new day was upon them.
After the chant was over, Kina slipped from the women and jogged down to the stream.
Welcoming her, was the sight of her father, dressed in not by his loincloth, his short spear held high in hand as he fished. Already a fine catch, of three large looking and dead fishes. His body was large, and rippling with muscle, in his days of fighting for the Horde and for the Shu'halo people. Scars littered his body, but he wore them with pride. His hand resided when he caught sight of his approaching daughter, letting out a bellowing laughter and smile as he embraced her in a gentle hug, kissing her forehead.
Soon enough, Kina joined him at his fishing, even starting a friendly competition with him.
Once more, she lost. But she did not care for that. There would be another chance. Walking back to camp with her father, carrying their fruits of labor, she left her father to take care of the fish alongside her mother. Though Kina was still young, she was not naive. She knew well enough that fishes will not be the only thing keeping her parents occupied.
A snicker left her lips at the thought.
For a year now, her mother kept on insisting to her that she was approaching the proper age to find a man. Yet, Kina was persistent and insisted that she would find a mate in due time. When her heart would be ready. She laughed at the thought of having to be mated so soon. But mostly, the thought would not bother her. Kina made her way through the planes of green, tracking the signs of nearby animals to be careful. Making her way to a nearby settlement, waving in greeting to the members of the area who in return waved back.
Meeting with a few hunters of the area, they sat down beneath the shade of a grand tree and told stories of hunts had. The most impressive was that of a brown furred male, telling a tale of how he was nearly carried all the way to Orgrimmar atop the back of a wild Kodo. Laughs were exchanged and time passed. The sun had reached its warm peak in noon, when the hunters disbanded and Kina moved further on her way west.
The day was hot, but Kina wasn't too bothered. Traveling to a nearby field, she picked a strand of flowers on her way before finally making her way to a single lone hill, a spear stuck in its tip and around it two patches of upturned earth. Silently, and sadly, Kina smiled and placed her flowers near the patches of land.
"For you, Grandfather. Grandmother."
Silently, after leaving her respect for the Elders, Kina traveled back to camp.
03-14-2012, 12:15 PM (This post was last modified: 03-17-2012, 12:09 AM by Psycho.)
Spoiler:
Silently, she peered. Black infernal eyes, wrought from the heart of the abyss itself. She saw the edge of darkness. It loomed to her. She saw it, every day. The darkened fog loomed inside of her eyes. The blackened gems narrowing, the shapes ahead of her odd and without recognition. She could not tell what they were. But she knew they were there. They've come for her. At long last. Suddenly, the eyes snapped open, peering from her usual spot.
"Those useless idiots." She peered at the burnt crisp of her right hand, slightly mended ever since she managed a proper holding for that infernal staff. "And that damned brother of his..." She hissed in distaste in memory of the floating crippled man. "So he wishes to enter -my- chessboard?" She chuckles lightly. Turning around with a majestic sway of her wings, she began walking, the wind causing her long hair to flutter and her crimson robes to flutter all around her, the gems that were latched to her clothes, to her flesh, and to her wings clanking lightly.
"I'm afraid I don't play that way, darling." She chuckled darkly, her long bloodstained fangs revealed as she began walking. Crossing her healthy hand behind her back, perhaps out of habit, as she made her way near that accursed staff, engrave unto the floor in a circle of hundreds of small runes. It was heavy work, especially with the damned Death Knight interrupting her, but it will soon pay off. Walking to a stone chessbored, she sat. The pieces were all in place. She made her first move.
Rook to D3.
Knight to F2.
The game has begun.
"You see, my dearest cripple, when I told you about chess... I lied. It's not all about the king, darling."
Pawn to E4.
Priest to A3.
"It's about minimizing costs."
Her Knight devoured an enemy rook at the cost of a pawn.
"Maximizing harm."
She devoured a clear path to their king.
"But in the end?" She peered at her units. "It isn't about the king, darling... It's all..." She grabbed the Queen with her burnt hand, the king falling before the might of this unit. "About the queen."
Slowly, Azziri roamed in the town she once called home. Now, it was naught but ruins. Her gloved hand slowly traced on the wall as memories flood to her head, the memories of joy and laughter... The fields of gold in the summer, and the cozy fire in the winter... She remembered her other family, those who took her in. She remembered Roberto's charming smile... Maiya's beautiful singing...
Idly, she began humming to herself, her voice rasp and ugly... Frowning a bit, she began walking towards the old tower. She concentrated, and tried, and suddenly, the rasp was gone... She felt her old voice emerging from her throat... She began singing. The same song of Maiya. The song of her sister.
Pulling out her small drum, she began clicking it against her hip, a rythem growing as she hummed and sung, her heart lifting... Lifting beyond this shell, and back to the skies, to where she was free. Free of pain. Free of sorrow. Her steps lightened, even dancing in their nature, her long thick robes swaying with her as she began spinning, clapping her hand against the jingling drum, the rythem leading her as she danced and danced, the night beginning to pass.
And so she danced, until dawn came. She sung, until the sun became her audience. She smiled and laughed, until the very stars came down from the night sky, and the skies have turned blue. Her steps light, and her spirit lifted. Walking to the old clock tower, she climbed the many stairs to the very balcony of the clock, watching the rising sun. Night has passed, and so did the darkness it brought.
Slowly, and slowly, pumped the beating heart that was the clock... Slowly, and slowly, poured in the light of the crimson veil upon her eyes. Slowly, and slowly, her eyes opened...
Green. That was the first color she saw. Her body mostly naked, laid atop a grand and luxurious bed. She felt a peace so serene in her heart she had not known for years, her frown gentle, if not natural. A pair of sleeping, though protective arms were around her. Oh how her heart beat softly... She nuzzled back against his form, her smile slowly spreading...
Scream.
Reality faded, the nightmare came back. Her wings tore painfully out of her deformed flesh, the spurts of black corrupted blood splattering against the stone wall of her dream home. Here. Not here again. Why? Why now? Her anger returned, her fury not her own. She howled and screamed, her body wrecked with agony of returning to this accursed form. She stumbled forward, searching for a place to grip on. She was heavy. So very heavy.
Whisper.
Her eyes snapped open again, the Fel-green eyes returned from their slumber, a peaceful serene sunset. His arm around her, his smile kindly to her. Their children was asleep, all in the small hut they had rented for their family vacation. She must have been suffering from one of her day-terrors once more... The doctors from Northrend told her to take a break. Returning the smile slowly, her lips began seeking his.
Agony.
Her lips met blood. It poured through and down her throat, the sickly crimson liquid so sweet and delicious. The only flavor she could feel, its delightful bitterness. This was all she needed. Not him, not them. Only the sweet pumping crimson. Her own was no longer a replacement. She needed it from a fresh source. In front of her, the screaming man. Oh how she hated him. His insides torn outside, his bones broken and his ears gouged off. Why is he not as sweet as he?! She rose, her wings flapping tremendously, her lips meeting his in her poisonous kiss. He perished. He was not as sweet as he.
Lynda.
Her breath stuttered, her body cutting in and out. Oh by the Sunwell, the agony... And then, the joy. Her pain was paid off. It was a child... Healthy, and crying in the arms of its father. She smiled. He smiled back. And then the pain cut in again.
Sangreala.
She was viciously sinking her claws into the already dead corpse, howling madly in anger, tearing out its flesh, her eyes streaming with her tainted tears. Why did he not want her? Was she not perfect? She would make him see. She was perfect. She was perfect! Blood splattered against her form, her howl fierce and her mind afire with rage. All she wanted was his love. Why would he not give it to her?
Aryeon.
The images did not cut back. Her claws were still there. She had managed to retain her... For now. Huffing heavily, her body stained with sweat and blood, she began withdrawing back, to her throne...
Boredom. This was all Roka felt. Ever since the events of Northrend had slowly become more tranquil, she found herself roaming the streets of Orgrimmar without any real purpose. Plodding her way through the street, the short Orc huffed to herself, pocketing her hands in her trousers idly. She wore her simple shorts and her blouse, no longer having use for her leather armor, or her weapons. Sighing to herself in boredom, she made her way to the pond where she sat down... And the conversation of two males caught at her ear.
"If I would've been a child of peace, I wouldn't have been as good a survivor." Said one voice.
"Hah. Peace doesn't mean free of danger. There'd still be many things to shape a warrior." Replied another.
Roka leaned back lightly, slowly walking over quietly to the nearby rock, using it to hide most of herself as she peekd curiously, listening in their conversations. Who were these two? She listened at attention, their discussion bringing up memories she longed to forget.
"Much less. An organised enemy is far more dangerous." The first voice talked solemnly. "Course. . . But we didn't have any Night Elves or Humans back on Draenor." The other voice soon responded to it.
Draenor... Roka peered back at memories, remaining hidden behind the rock. It's been long since she actually heard anything of the place said to be her home... She recalled something of it, something Doyle told her as he offered to take her there once.
"We had the war against the Draenei. The preparations to take this world. The inner struggles before Grommash took the leadership. These things had not touched me directly, but they have touched our entire people, father. And being raised in such times has its effect. I am the Deadheart, father. Son of a warrior, son to the Warsong clan. If times of peace will come to this land, I will leave it, and go to where I can have my wars." Said the first voice once more in his long speech. The other man exhaled a loud sigh, muttering something Roka could not understand.
Gently her brow furrowed, looking about her quietly as she peered slowly at a small chipped tooth necklace. She was but a child when she got this, the tender age of 4 summers old... She didn't remember much... Her gaze soon returned to the two males. They continued their talk, but her mind was too clouded to listen... All she did was feel at the scar, running across her face. Soon a third voice joined with the others, conversing with them, bringing Roka back to reality.
"You can come out, now." The third voice, seeming old and hoarse called out to Roka. Blinking lightly, paling just a tad as she slunk back deeper to the shelter of the large rock, sticking close to its formation. Thinking her plan had work, Roka allowed a bit of confidence to herself before the third voice called out again. "Yet why not join in on the conversation?"
Frowning, Roka muttered out. "...I ain't got no idea what'yer talkin' about! I'm a feckin' rock-spirit-thing! F- Ah feck'it..." She sighed in defeat, plodding to plain sight. Before her the three Orcs. One bore a blade on his back, and the mask of a wolf upon his head. His lower jaw was painted black. The other, seeming to be the older one, had worn simple plain leather armor, his face unshaved and unkempt. The last one seemed to be a beggar.
The four conversed, though not in a most civil matter. Roka had soon fell into a harsh argument with them, the third beggar taking his leave. And she, soon after him... Though their words earlier, had taken their weight on her... She slowly walked through the Drag, towards the gates of Orgrimmar, peering at the chipped tooth necklace... The one true remain of her childhood...
"Priestess, we should have left her behind! She's tainted!"
"Monster! Freak!"
The voices screamed. With a sudden uproar of anger, the undressed woman sat upright in her bed, sweat covering her pale scar ridden form as she sunk her claws into the closer, stabbing the claws all the way through as she huffed heavily. Another nightmare? Another memory... The woman sighed to herself, still panting heavily as she stood up, dressing herself lightly in her night gown, stumbling to her feet and walking with quiet footsteps in the abbey halls. She stumbled almost blindly before managing to find her way outside to the nearby pond. Walking over to the surface of the water, the woman gently knelt down besides the cool pond, washing her face... Her hair, a messy strand of yellow covered her face, soon shifting to reveal the reflection of the monstrous deformed eye. The woman looked down to her reflection, panting and huffing.
"I am... Not a monster..." She muttered.
But did she truly believe herself? The young girl, not even an adult by her age, peered down to her trembling hands, still holding to her armored claw... In the shadows, it seemed to fit so perfectly to her hand... Like it was a natural part of her all along. She huffed, peering at the reflection, the words biting into her flesh like sharpened daggers, like the teeth of an angry predator. She soon smacked her hand into the reflection, breaking its clearing reflection with ripples, huffing and panting, walking away. She stumbled in darkness, her feet dragging her through the abby as she soon walked upon to the halls of prayer, soon falling to her knees in reverance...
"Light..." She whispered. "Please... Show me the way... Please... I am not tainted... I am not tainted... I beg of you..." She spat out, tears welling in her eyes.
The hours passed, the sun slowly broke through the window. The woman was still on her knees, gritting her teeth to herself, fighting a losing battle against the tears streaming from her healthy eye, her tainted blood giving out nothing... The sound was broken by a wail of anger, the girl quickly grabbing unto the ceremonial knife departed at the alter, bringing upwards in a thrust towards her eye... Only to be stopped by a firm grasping hand, struggling to hers. The taller dark skinned woman peered down unto her with a stern gaze, the sunlight giving her an almost unnatural radiance. In desparity, the girl cried out as she struggled.
"Let me be rid of it! Let me be rid of its taint, of everything! Of this curse!" She spat aloud, sobbing at her words bitterly as she violently struggled against the woman to no avail. Another hand firmly wrapped around her back, gently drawing her to an embrace of a hug, forcing her to drop her weapon as the girl shuddered. Slowly, she clung to the woman, burying her head in her chest, sobbing quietly.
Silently, or not so, Rhozak plodded ahead and strode to the small camp in Durotar. He looked to the setting sun, his shadow looming quietly upon the various crude work-out devices. He drew off his gloves to reveal his bruised knuckles, slowly smiling down at them. Memories came flooding as he walked over to the suspended punching bag, beginning to draw his hands back and smash his fists roughly against it, left right left right. He recalled back to the first time he got into a fight.
He was young. It was in the camp. Some punk was wailing on his mother, calling her a lunatic after she had accidentally spilled the water for most the camp. He was four times Rhozak's size, and yet he remembers clearly as the sun, he walked ahead of him and pushed him back, raising his voice.
"Hands off my mom! Or I swear I'll kick your ass so hard you won't be able to walk!"
He got beat up. Rhozak remembered every bruise, every connecting punch and kick as the older man took out his anger on him... But it's not that memory he chose to focus upon. It was that afterwards... He returned to his mother, bruised and hurt, huffing and frowning, looking up to hear, sniffling and holding back at the tears. His eye was swollen, nose broken... But both eyes widened as he saw her expression, her eyes... Clarity. For the first time, calm clarity. His mother looked down to him and spoke to Rhozak with a soft voice, he had never heard... It was gentle, womanly... Not the same maddened croak she always rasped out frantically.
"Oh look at you... You're all beat... Come, we better take care of that nose... And Rhozak... Please, stay strong..."
She knew. She knew that this was a moment of sanity. And she gave it to him. All to him. She mended to his wounds, smiling to him reassuringly. He couldn't help himself, this woman, the one he had to lead by her hand since he could walk. The one who made his dad look with hours of sadness, showed herself to him... And at those moments, the bruises didn't hurt. The fact did. The loss he felt, when he saw the woman who could have been there, who's mind was giving away at each passing day... He tossed himself at her, hugging and crying deeply. It was the first time he ever cried. He remembered, how she held him in her arms, and smiled down to her. He wiped his nose, holding at his tears and looking up to her.
"I promise... I'll stay strong. I'll get stronger! I'll be the strongest there is, mom!"
Reality came back. He kept punching and huffing, hitting the sack with forces that made the thick branch it hung upon shake and stir. He worked, he worked until every muscle in his body cried out in burning pain, huffing heavily, laced with sweat. It was already nighttime, when he had finally finished his training routine. He looked over to the night's sky, taking in a deep breath, his fists clenched at his side. Silently, he muttered to himself, plodding off.
Rhozak stumbled back to the hut quietly, looking over to the sleeping lumbering man at the simple rug. A smile tugged to his lips as he laid besides Thragash, shoulder to shoulder as he closed his eyes, resting against him quietly, the night drifting by to the sound of snores and the crackles of the fire. And in the end, before sleep covered him, Rhozak just imagined his mother's voice one last time.
Silently, Tiff laid back upon the soft couch, head propped upright. She had no idea why she was doing this, or how she even agreed to this, but here she was... The room was clouded lightly with smoke, and a ceiling fan lazily turned in circles. The figure sitting besides her was middle aged human with a scrawny build, short black hair, and some simple scruff on his face... Quietly, she dug into her pockets and drew out a small pack of cigarettes, looking over to the man with a questioning look.
"Mind if I smoke?"
She asked slowly. And soon his reply came, his voice deep and obviously trained. It had a soothing quality to it, but she didn't buy it one bit.
"Ofcourse, go right ahead."
Slowly sitting upright, the Gnome slowly bent forward to place her lips around the edge of one cheap cigarette and pull it from its packet slowly, all before placing the box back in her pocket. In silence, she drew out a box of matches, and with a quiet snapping of the head of one match, a fire lit to its tip and soon to the tip of her cigarette. An uneasy inhale followed from her as she turned out the match, waving it in the air rapidly to cool it down before putting it back in her box. Silently, she sat back and took a little shaking puff of smoke from her lips, the flavor bitter, but at least it helped stop the shaking of her hands.
"So, Tiffany-" He began speaking.
"Tiff." She quickly cut him off.
Slowly composing his smile, calm and assuring, the man sat upright and crossed one leg on another as he leaned ahead, his hands crossed on his raised knee. The man resumed his speaking in his calm collective tone, assuring to Tiff with his clean smile. The woman in the meantime silently puffed from her cigarettes, looking about the plain room... Awards, pictures, diplomas, strung all over the walls...
"I understood you came here because you suffer from nightmares. Something about old memories?"
He asked kindly. She replied.
"Yeah, something like that... They told me I've been screamin' in my sleep, and tearing apart bedsheets."
She muttered with a snarl.
"Yes, well..."He began talking carefully, words calculated and soft."Could you tell me what's that you're dreaming of? There's nothing to be ashamed of in here, secrecy is one hundred percent." He smiled to her. Quietly, Tiff took another shaking puff of her cigarette, eyes closing as she muttered. "I've been dreaming about the second war... When I served away from my family..." She mumbled, reaching up to stroke quietly at the bridge of her nose, a constant headache resuming to harass her, silenced by her puffing of smoke.
Gently, the man nodded as he spoke. "I see..." A hand moved to stroke at his chin. "Could you perhaps, recite the dreams? If you remember them?"Silently, Tiff furrowed her brow and muttered, rubbing at her nose softly.
"It's the same dream... Always has been. I'm back in this trench... It's rainin' cats and cogs out there... There's fires blazing everywhere... And screams. Always screams." She pauses to shake and take another weak puff of her cigarette."I'm huddled up, hugging the artillery launcher before letting off round after round... The sound pierces my ears, I lost my ear-plugs... I bleed, and I shoot... I peek my head up to look at what's happening, and what I see is never pleasant... Fighting going all around me, Orcs ganging on human and Dwarven soldiers alike, tearing them limb from limb... And I shoot, and I shoot..." Her voice begins breaking lightly. "And no matter what I do, they just keep coming. I see bits flying everywhere, blood practically raining as hard as the rain, mud splatting left and right as I let off round after round of drumming artillery with the other mortar teams, but no matter what we do, it looks like they just keep on coming..."She muttered, swallowing dryly as she smoked again. "But that's just the start... Eventually, they get too close, and the men retreat back... But we're stuck in our little make-shift trenches, barely any room to move with Orcs coming atop of us... T-that's when the real nightmare starts..." She swallows dryly, taking a shaking breath as she smoked heavily, half of her cigarette long gone in ashes. "I'm crawling.. I lost my knife and I'm desperately digging through the mud to get it... I catch a glint of it, but suddenly something jerks me from behind... An Orc lifts me up and smashes my ribs straight in, knocking the air right out of me... He's holding me up like I was a pebble... I look around me and all the people I've worked with, all the squad, all dead..." She chokes back a little sob. "Limbs scattered, eyes gouged... They didn't even bother to kill off some of them... One was crawling with his legs torn off, maggots digging into him like he was already dead..." She pauses, taking a shaking breath once more, desperately shaking now as she smokes. "And they're surroundin' me now... I'm the only one left... But I can see in their eyes, they ain't just going to kill me... No, dyin's going to be a relief... They start grabbin' my hair, tossing me around like I was a toy... And finally when one of'em shouts impatiently, the move to tear my armor off... Piece by piece... I have a single piece of explosive in my pocket... I subtly draw out the p-pin... And let it drop...Boom." She quietly paused, wiping off an escaped tear from her cheek. "I wake up, screaming and shaking... Sweating like a pig..."
Quietly, she turns off her cigarette upon the ashtray, leaving the smoking bud there as she clings softly to her arms, shaking. "I couldn' sleep ever since... I couldn't think, I couldn' breath... I sometimes still hear the screams when I'm alone, feel the dirt smacking against my face..." Her hands quietly clenched. Slowly, the man nodded his head."That's enough for today, Tiff..." He assured her with a calm gentle smile. "We'll continue our sessions next week, and until then..." He scribes her a note, handing it over. "Take this twice a day, once when you wake up and one when you go to sleep... It should ease the nightmares."
Slowly, her hand reached for the note and folded it in her pocket, before the Gnome waddled out of the room, staring at the note quietly.
The stars of night silently beckoned as Rija walked. A lucid dream experienced not very often by the Priestess as she strolled upon the very celestial realm she dreamed of each night, this dream repetitive and constant. She was naked, her womanly body bare to the cold night's chill, but she did not seem to mind. Vanity was lost. Her bare feet prodded against the dark space of the night sky, the forests of ancient Ashenvale beneath her... She knew it was before, before the war and the horrors which ravaged their land. In perfect silence, the wind whistled and whispered the sounds of the world below to her...
"A girl..."
A womanly voice muttered to another, a happy sob. A smile tugged at Rija's lips as she looked over to the moon, ever far but so unobstructed, its light pure and its radiance undeniable. So flawless, so untainted... This was her light. This was the light she would bring to others. As she strolled across the celestial realms, she seemed to move so effortlessly, the ground beneath her vanishing in a flurry of lights as she found herself striding above green lush plains, bonfires littered at their lengths as if mirroring the night's sky. It was the wind who whispered to her of the words beneath. Tales of valor and heroism, of a peaceful people. Songs of lovers, and of new allies...
"Draenei."
The words tugged at Rija's ears as she continued to stride above Draenor, each step of her bare feet leaving behind it a small glowing celestial dot in the heavens that acted as land for her. Slowly, the lands of Draenor were left behind her, and she strolled a seemingly endless space of soothing darkness and the dotting of stars. Memories rung in her head as she strolled and walked silently, her silvery hair fluttering behind her... It was elongated than it was truly, as if Rija has spent years and eons striding across the stars, her long hair reaching to her bare hips with a cascading fall..,
"Do you remember what I told you of the stars, Kalah?"
Rija recalled at the memories of her last encounter with her student. After what felt like a brief moment, a taste of eternity, Rija found herself reaching to a glowing lake of silvery waters, illuminating the night's sky in a shine matching the moon's... Rija strode ahead to its water, beholding her reflection. Her face was older, more mature, and her marks have changed to the signs of crescent moons, glowing atop her expression. There was no whispers of the wind, no thoughts... Silence. A perfect serene silence. And on the other side of the lake, stood a nude male figure, but she could not see his features. For he was as radiant as the stars themselves, a celestial body of a man... He gently stepped one foot atop the water, letting the ripples line across the lake as he waited. The Priestess stood and slowly mimicked him, as she did night and night before so, the two walking towards one another slowly in the dark of night.
"I see you've come back to me..."
The man spoke to her in a echoing voice that vibrated the whole of the night's sky. Rija nodded her head gently as their bodies met, her hands softly taken by his as she looked up to his face, but she could see no expression. Her features soft and her hair fluttering in the windless breeze about them.
"As I have for many nights before so..."
The Priestess replied to the celestial male as she spoke quietly, her hands as tender as silk, and his hands as soothing as the embrace of Elune's divine light itself. He returned the sightless look, nodding his head slowly as the trails of light seemed to grow from his forehead, antlers... Or were they halos? Rija could not tell.
"Then you have a question for me?"
Rija nodded her head lightly as gently she began entwining her fingers with that of the mysterious figure that came visiting her every night. His body kept close to hers, and it seemed to emit such an odd heat, so comfortable and embracing. She continued to sway side to side with the celestial figure as she furrowed her brow in thought, before eventually returning her gaze to where she assumed his eyes were, asking hesitantly.
"The hunt I embark upon is one dangerous than ever before... I will ride side by side with the Orcs, and I will stand at risk for them and the safety of my own people... Will I make it back? To Kalah? To Linevi? To help Franziska?"
She admitted with a light shameful bow of her head. The Celestial male let out a deep hum at the back of its transparent throat, his fingers still entwined with that of the Priestess as he seems to think deeply over his words. Eventually, his echoing soothing voice rang to her ears, after what felt like hours of silence.
"Dawn soon breaks. And with it, answers."
It said in the kind of cryptic tone Rija had all but come to expect. Keeping close to him, the Priestess merely nodded her head. Looking over to the Celestial figure, she withdrew her fingers from his as she knelt down and sat upon her knees on the surface of the lake, her hand drawn out softly towards him as he slipped back, his voice echoing as dawn began rising behind him.
"Look to the stars, Rija..."
With a startle, Rija's eyes shot open. He never spoke her name, not once in the last week of these strange dreams. Shooting upright in her bed, the priestess lay nude upon white silk as dawn broke through the balcony of her living dorm within the temple, her bare flesh beaded lightly with sweat as she panted to herself. Rising carefully to her bare feet, she donned a simple sleeping gown, not quite bothering to close its middle as she slid open the curtains to the balcony over-watching the Darnassian forest. The warm gleams of sun brought warmth to her flesh and relaxed the Priestess lightly as she retained her thoughtfulness. It was a week since she began the hunt with the Orcs, or even more so she thought... This was the first day in a long while since she had slept in her own bed. She wished herself that luxury, for what was to come. A startled muffled voice came from behind Rija, one of the Temple's keepers, a young woman by the name of Athili.
"Oh, forgive m-me High Priestess!"
The young girl muttered nervously as she stumbled into the room unannounced, bowing in apology towards the shoddily Dressed woman. Rija dismissed her in forgiven motions as she closed her robes more thoroughly, peering out to the sunlight in deep thought.
"It is fine... Athili, may I ask you a question?"
Rija asked aloofly towards the other Priestess. She nodded firmly and quickly, still flustered with the earlier incidents.
"How can I see the stars... When the sun colors the sky differently?"
