The scenery swam, twisting and reforming. The Crossroads became the Barrens became Ashenvale. The ancient trees closing in, their twisted boughs reaching out towards her.
Sakinra watched as the world formed and reformed around her, ever changing and morphing until it stopped. Her eyes rose up to the towering rock walls, their grey and cracked expanse stretching into the darkness. Demon Fall Canyon. She stepped forwards, the nights chill clawing at her skin like ghostly fingertips. The sound of the forest dulled, her own footsteps muffled in the stifling air of the gully.
"You press on..."
She didn't look up. It's voice roared with the sound of a thousand whispers, it's empty cowl beside her, agonisingly familliar.
"I am here for a reason."
Her voice cracked, sounding lost and alone in the darkness. Beside her the cackling laugh erupted from the whispered voices, the empty cowl and billowing robes circling in front of her. The arm reached forwards, unseen fingers tilting her jaw upwards, cold as bone.
"You steel yourself child, like the sand against the rising tide. But you cannot halt it, you cannot stand against of it. All of you will be washed away."
Sakinra stepped past the figure, pressing on. If she was here, there was something to be seen. Hiding from these visions would do nothing but blind her.
"You once ventured into this gorge alone before. Do you remember? So eager you were then..."
"Shut up..."
Images flickered of her younger self, sprinting past, the Fel Hound on her heels, running deeper into the canyon. Her screams lost in the distance twisted by the passing of time into a demonic howl.
She continued onwards, passing the broken form of her disembowled self, the Felhound gorging itself on her remains. The figure floating silently beside her.
The canyon stretched on, splitting into two paths. Each as imposing as the other.
"What are you expecting to find?"
The voices whispered like a roaring gale.
"Forgiveness? Insight? A warning?"
it laughed cruelly.
"Hope?"
She looked from left to right, not knowing which path to seek. She realised her hands were empty. The air was cold against naked skin. Armourless, Weaponless, into the unknown. Alone and Unprepared.
"There is no hope Sakinra. Not for you. You will lose everything."
Making a decision she pressed forth along her chosen path. The walls narrowed in, until she could barely squeeze herself between the stone. A sickly stench was filling the air.
Turning her head to look behind her, to retreat from this path she found herself face to face with the empty cowl. The blackness within moved and twisted, a shape forming. There was not nothingness within the shroud. The stench of death billowed out with each hissing breath. No eyes, no discernable form. But she was watched.
"Turning back?"
It's tone hushed as if whispered by the branches of a corrupted forest. The shadows within morphed and shifted, making a mockery of the face of her mate. The shrouds arm lifted, unseen fingers caressed her jaw. She tried to pull back but found herself trapped.
"No matter what. I will be there for you."
A grin twisted as flesh seemed to fall away from the face, peeling and rotting in front of her as it spoke.
"Does that help? Such empty words..."
As the last recognisable pieces fell away, the voices roared, The hand closing around her throat. And suddenly it was visible. The fel green glow bloomed around the hand, its twisted, clawed form as it drained the life from her. The Shroud billowed, the gale battered around her, the energy tearing its way through her form. She battled to free herself, trapped between the stone and the shroud, she squirmed and twisted, until something gave way.
Slammed onto her back, she scrambled away, the ground moving beneath her hands, the darkness almost complete, the air stagnant as if in a cave. She looked behind her.
There was no crack, no canyon, no sign of where she came in. Nothing chasing her. After a moment, she realised she couldn't see the canyon walls.
Light bloomed in the distance, it tore across the horizon, encircling her. The green flames rising, bathing her in its glow. The ground beneath her feet shifted. Looking down she froze.
A field of bones.
As far as the eye could see, anchient corpses left to rot had been reduced to nothing more than skeletons, broken and jumbled. Enough to have marked the extinction of a thousand thousand races. Around her, the flames flickered, blotted out as something passed through it.
Many things.
Hundreds upon hundreds of demons passed through the felfire, and halted.
Before her, there was a gap in their ranks.
The low, barreling laughter was met with a gout of felflame from its maw, illuminating its terrible form.
The Pit Lord advanced. Moving swiftly across the field towards her, bones scattered before him, his bulk carving a trench, he closed in. The lash of his tale extinguished the flames as he passed only to bloom once more. In his shadow, the transluscent form of the Shroud could be seen.
"Why? Why do you show me this?"
Sakinra screamed, her voice barely carrying above the roar.
Everything stopped.
Silence fell, its eerie quiet descending as thousands of eyes rested on her.
"Because you have a choice, Sakinra."
The Shroud approached her, circling her, before coming to rest behind her, cold, formless hands rested upon her shoulder. It's empty cowl looking upwards towards the Pit Lord.
"You don't have to die, neither does your cub, your tribe... All they need do is join us..."
Sakinra stepped backwards, only to find herself pinned in place, forced down to her knees by the strength of the grip behind her. The Pit Lord's laugh roared through the darkness.
"Never."
"Such a pity, my child. I had such hopes for you. You may wish to reconsider..."
Flame flickered in the corner of her vision, the Shrouds hands engulfed itself, pressing it to her, it began to creep over her form. Burning, blistering her skin, it spread unguided and unimpeded.
Sakinra's howls of terror and agony filled the night as the flames consumed her. The low, rumbling laugh of the pitlord, was matched by the somber silence of the the Shroud as it watched her burn.
-------------------------------------------
She woke suddenly, her skin slick with sweat, the furs pushed from her. Her mate Lom'rak slept soundly beside her. Blinking she pushed herself to her feet, leaving the hut. She blinked in the predawn light she remembered they were occupying the tower. Avoiding the edge, she circled around the outside.
Running a hand over her arm, she frowned unable to shake the sensation of flame over her skin.
Taking a seat to lean against the wall she looked over the Crossroads. The patrols moved with familliar regularity. She had called this town home for many years.
The sky lightened in the east, casting its long shadows across the town. She rolled her shoulder, her scars across her back reminding her of their presence. Her gaze drifted down towards one of the behind the Inn.
A low sigh caressed her lips. In some lights, she would swear she could see the bloodstained earth.
--------------------------------------------
Heat.
The quiet buzzing of the flies.
The crackle of fire and smoke in the air.
A tightness in her shoulders.
Sakinra opened her eyes. There were an accumulation of guards around her. Hula'mahi the troll stood among them, blowpipe in hand. She could spot the young Blacksmith's apprentice Traugh. She blinked heavily, she was leaning against a post, and there was a crowd. A crowd facing her. She could pick out most of the township. Hidden half behind the large, hulking officer, was Okram. Still dust covered from their sprint.
"Wha...?"
"Sakinra of the Warsong clan, you stand before us charged with theft, and drawing the centaurs wrath, costing the lives of two of our best."
Sakinra blinked heavily, the heat was unbearable, the tightness in her shoulders was battling for her attention. A large, heavily armoured Orc moved beside the officer, upon his chest he bore the colours of the Warsong Clan. Her heart sunk.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Wha...?"
The Warsong outrider grunted, looking to the Troll.
"How long until your sedative wears off, Witchdoctor?"
"Naht lang. She be wakin more each momen' look it be in ha eyes dere."
Sakinra shook her head, and tried to stand.
She couldn't. Head snapping up the pain in her shoulders made sense, her hands tethered above her head to the top of the post. Panic set in and she began to squirm and wriggle, trying to pull free as the shackles cut into her wrists.
"Sakinra of the Warsong Clan, you will answer for what you have done. The families of those fallen today for your greed and dishonour, will see your blood spilt and flesh undone."
The officers voice rang hollow. She tried to twist her neck to see behind her. There the crowd flooded outwards even more. A young, sobbing, cub held onto her father, as behind them the pyres burned. The cloud of smoke carrying high into the air. No-one risking the Pyre outside the walls, this soon after a raid.
The guard she had kicked in her attempt to escape stepped into view. The whip curled in his hand. Pulling and wrenching at the post she yowled in pain, agony ripping through her wrists and shoulders, fighting to get through.
Three heavy footsteps caught her attention. The armour clanking with each footfall. Turning forwards once more she found the Outrider stood nose to nose with her.
"Silence. Stand tall. Do not yell ad cry like some whelp with its foot caught in a trap. You. Are. Warsong. You will take this punishment for the dishonour you brought upon yourself. Then you are to return with me, to the clan. You have been left to run wild too long."
He let out a long sigh.
"Your mother would be disappointed."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, reeling she watched him wordlessly step back, his quiet nod to the Guard.
It was the third fall of the lash before she screamed.
Another four before her legs collapsed beneath her.
The final three found their mark deep within her flesh, cleaving it apart. By then, all but the most hardened had turned their face away.
Strong arms lifted her as she was unbound from the shackles, and carried her away. Okram unable to meet her eye as she passed. She could taste her own blood in the air, as the darkness swam in around her once more.
"My Wolf?"
--------------------------------------
Sakinra opened her eyes.
"You left our furs, My Wolf. Trouble sleeping?"
She shook her head, offering a smile to her mate as she pushed herself to stand.
"No, merely reminiscing."
Her smile flickered for a moment, as the memories of her nightmares bloomed when confronted with his face, the rotting flesh, the twisting visage. She blinked and it vanished.
Lom'rak looked at her skeptically.
"Hmph, Very well. I have my patrol, I shall see you later on."
She nodded as a kiss was pressed to her forehead, and she watched him leave. The great Garn below bound to meet its master. She watched as he set out, before returning to the tower's hut, sat against the wall she pulled the furs on top of her and watched the dawn break.
Sakinra watched as the world formed and reformed around her, ever changing and morphing until it stopped. Her eyes rose up to the towering rock walls, their grey and cracked expanse stretching into the darkness. Demon Fall Canyon. She stepped forwards, the nights chill clawing at her skin like ghostly fingertips. The sound of the forest dulled, her own footsteps muffled in the stifling air of the gully.
"You press on..."
She didn't look up. It's voice roared with the sound of a thousand whispers, it's empty cowl beside her, agonisingly familliar.
"I am here for a reason."
Her voice cracked, sounding lost and alone in the darkness. Beside her the cackling laugh erupted from the whispered voices, the empty cowl and billowing robes circling in front of her. The arm reached forwards, unseen fingers tilting her jaw upwards, cold as bone.
"You steel yourself child, like the sand against the rising tide. But you cannot halt it, you cannot stand against of it. All of you will be washed away."
Sakinra stepped past the figure, pressing on. If she was here, there was something to be seen. Hiding from these visions would do nothing but blind her.
"You once ventured into this gorge alone before. Do you remember? So eager you were then..."
"Shut up..."
Images flickered of her younger self, sprinting past, the Fel Hound on her heels, running deeper into the canyon. Her screams lost in the distance twisted by the passing of time into a demonic howl.
She continued onwards, passing the broken form of her disembowled self, the Felhound gorging itself on her remains. The figure floating silently beside her.
The canyon stretched on, splitting into two paths. Each as imposing as the other.
"What are you expecting to find?"
The voices whispered like a roaring gale.
"Forgiveness? Insight? A warning?"
it laughed cruelly.
"Hope?"
She looked from left to right, not knowing which path to seek. She realised her hands were empty. The air was cold against naked skin. Armourless, Weaponless, into the unknown. Alone and Unprepared.
"There is no hope Sakinra. Not for you. You will lose everything."
Making a decision she pressed forth along her chosen path. The walls narrowed in, until she could barely squeeze herself between the stone. A sickly stench was filling the air.
Turning her head to look behind her, to retreat from this path she found herself face to face with the empty cowl. The blackness within moved and twisted, a shape forming. There was not nothingness within the shroud. The stench of death billowed out with each hissing breath. No eyes, no discernable form. But she was watched.
"Turning back?"
It's tone hushed as if whispered by the branches of a corrupted forest. The shadows within morphed and shifted, making a mockery of the face of her mate. The shrouds arm lifted, unseen fingers caressed her jaw. She tried to pull back but found herself trapped.
"No matter what. I will be there for you."
A grin twisted as flesh seemed to fall away from the face, peeling and rotting in front of her as it spoke.
"Does that help? Such empty words..."
As the last recognisable pieces fell away, the voices roared, The hand closing around her throat. And suddenly it was visible. The fel green glow bloomed around the hand, its twisted, clawed form as it drained the life from her. The Shroud billowed, the gale battered around her, the energy tearing its way through her form. She battled to free herself, trapped between the stone and the shroud, she squirmed and twisted, until something gave way.
Slammed onto her back, she scrambled away, the ground moving beneath her hands, the darkness almost complete, the air stagnant as if in a cave. She looked behind her.
There was no crack, no canyon, no sign of where she came in. Nothing chasing her. After a moment, she realised she couldn't see the canyon walls.
Light bloomed in the distance, it tore across the horizon, encircling her. The green flames rising, bathing her in its glow. The ground beneath her feet shifted. Looking down she froze.
A field of bones.
As far as the eye could see, anchient corpses left to rot had been reduced to nothing more than skeletons, broken and jumbled. Enough to have marked the extinction of a thousand thousand races. Around her, the flames flickered, blotted out as something passed through it.
Many things.
Hundreds upon hundreds of demons passed through the felfire, and halted.
Before her, there was a gap in their ranks.
The low, barreling laughter was met with a gout of felflame from its maw, illuminating its terrible form.
The Pit Lord advanced. Moving swiftly across the field towards her, bones scattered before him, his bulk carving a trench, he closed in. The lash of his tale extinguished the flames as he passed only to bloom once more. In his shadow, the transluscent form of the Shroud could be seen.
"Why? Why do you show me this?"
Sakinra screamed, her voice barely carrying above the roar.
Everything stopped.
Silence fell, its eerie quiet descending as thousands of eyes rested on her.
"Because you have a choice, Sakinra."
The Shroud approached her, circling her, before coming to rest behind her, cold, formless hands rested upon her shoulder. It's empty cowl looking upwards towards the Pit Lord.
"You don't have to die, neither does your cub, your tribe... All they need do is join us..."
Sakinra stepped backwards, only to find herself pinned in place, forced down to her knees by the strength of the grip behind her. The Pit Lord's laugh roared through the darkness.
"Never."
"Such a pity, my child. I had such hopes for you. You may wish to reconsider..."
Flame flickered in the corner of her vision, the Shrouds hands engulfed itself, pressing it to her, it began to creep over her form. Burning, blistering her skin, it spread unguided and unimpeded.
Sakinra's howls of terror and agony filled the night as the flames consumed her. The low, rumbling laugh of the pitlord, was matched by the somber silence of the the Shroud as it watched her burn.
-------------------------------------------
She woke suddenly, her skin slick with sweat, the furs pushed from her. Her mate Lom'rak slept soundly beside her. Blinking she pushed herself to her feet, leaving the hut. She blinked in the predawn light she remembered they were occupying the tower. Avoiding the edge, she circled around the outside.
Running a hand over her arm, she frowned unable to shake the sensation of flame over her skin.
Taking a seat to lean against the wall she looked over the Crossroads. The patrols moved with familliar regularity. She had called this town home for many years.
The sky lightened in the east, casting its long shadows across the town. She rolled her shoulder, her scars across her back reminding her of their presence. Her gaze drifted down towards one of the behind the Inn.
A low sigh caressed her lips. In some lights, she would swear she could see the bloodstained earth.
--------------------------------------------
Heat.
The quiet buzzing of the flies.
The crackle of fire and smoke in the air.
A tightness in her shoulders.
Sakinra opened her eyes. There were an accumulation of guards around her. Hula'mahi the troll stood among them, blowpipe in hand. She could spot the young Blacksmith's apprentice Traugh. She blinked heavily, she was leaning against a post, and there was a crowd. A crowd facing her. She could pick out most of the township. Hidden half behind the large, hulking officer, was Okram. Still dust covered from their sprint.
"Wha...?"
"Sakinra of the Warsong clan, you stand before us charged with theft, and drawing the centaurs wrath, costing the lives of two of our best."
Sakinra blinked heavily, the heat was unbearable, the tightness in her shoulders was battling for her attention. A large, heavily armoured Orc moved beside the officer, upon his chest he bore the colours of the Warsong Clan. Her heart sunk.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Wha...?"
The Warsong outrider grunted, looking to the Troll.
"How long until your sedative wears off, Witchdoctor?"
"Naht lang. She be wakin more each momen' look it be in ha eyes dere."
Sakinra shook her head, and tried to stand.
She couldn't. Head snapping up the pain in her shoulders made sense, her hands tethered above her head to the top of the post. Panic set in and she began to squirm and wriggle, trying to pull free as the shackles cut into her wrists.
"Sakinra of the Warsong Clan, you will answer for what you have done. The families of those fallen today for your greed and dishonour, will see your blood spilt and flesh undone."
The officers voice rang hollow. She tried to twist her neck to see behind her. There the crowd flooded outwards even more. A young, sobbing, cub held onto her father, as behind them the pyres burned. The cloud of smoke carrying high into the air. No-one risking the Pyre outside the walls, this soon after a raid.
The guard she had kicked in her attempt to escape stepped into view. The whip curled in his hand. Pulling and wrenching at the post she yowled in pain, agony ripping through her wrists and shoulders, fighting to get through.
Three heavy footsteps caught her attention. The armour clanking with each footfall. Turning forwards once more she found the Outrider stood nose to nose with her.
"Silence. Stand tall. Do not yell ad cry like some whelp with its foot caught in a trap. You. Are. Warsong. You will take this punishment for the dishonour you brought upon yourself. Then you are to return with me, to the clan. You have been left to run wild too long."
He let out a long sigh.
"Your mother would be disappointed."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, reeling she watched him wordlessly step back, his quiet nod to the Guard.
It was the third fall of the lash before she screamed.
Another four before her legs collapsed beneath her.
The final three found their mark deep within her flesh, cleaving it apart. By then, all but the most hardened had turned their face away.
Strong arms lifted her as she was unbound from the shackles, and carried her away. Okram unable to meet her eye as she passed. She could taste her own blood in the air, as the darkness swam in around her once more.
"My Wolf?"
--------------------------------------
Sakinra opened her eyes.
"You left our furs, My Wolf. Trouble sleeping?"
She shook her head, offering a smile to her mate as she pushed herself to stand.
"No, merely reminiscing."
Her smile flickered for a moment, as the memories of her nightmares bloomed when confronted with his face, the rotting flesh, the twisting visage. She blinked and it vanished.
Lom'rak looked at her skeptically.
"Hmph, Very well. I have my patrol, I shall see you later on."
She nodded as a kiss was pressed to her forehead, and she watched him leave. The great Garn below bound to meet its master. She watched as he set out, before returning to the tower's hut, sat against the wall she pulled the furs on top of her and watched the dawn break.
