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The website has never looked better!
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA... A.
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Remember to shout your lungs out every once in a while!!
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<dances>
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I too am testing the shoutbox for non-nefarious reasons.
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This is me testing the shoutbox, because shouting is a great stress relief and it would be a shame if it doesn't work.
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THE SHOUTBOX. Omg. This was like proto-Discord.
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*Grabs a camera to record what happens*
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Reflections

Started by Rhonya, November 12, 2017, 10:55:55 AM

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Rhonya





The sun was just disappearing behind one of the dusty mountains, the last rays still shining down on a tiny hut that was lodged between the trees in the northern part of the Barrens. Bare feet made their way over the reddish sand, the ground still holding the warmth of the day. They moved north, past the barricades into the deep, dark woods of Ashenvale forest. The grunts stationed here knew her by face and name, greeting her as she passed. She was a common sight after all, living nearby and sometimes even aiding them with food or mending.
One of them spoke up as he noticed her, his deep voice clearly used to giving commands, but to her he spoke gently.
“You chose a nice evening, Steelheart. All is quiet. Be careful though, some elves were seen passing by here a few days ago but they have not been sighted since. Better to be safe than sorry, at least, “ He said, while giving her a rare smile.
The she-orc in question returned the smile with one of her own, her red and blue eyed gaze resting on his face for a moment before her mass of black hair hid her expression again as she turned her head to the woods ahead.
“Thank you, Strongarm. I won’t be long, hopefully.” She spoke, her voice soft but determined. With a nod Strongarm waved her on through.
“Spirits guide you then, Steelheart.”

Without another word Rhonya moved on, her bare feet almost making no sound on the soft mossy earth. Clad in one of her simple garments, she also blended in pretty well against the deep greens and browns of the ancient trees. Spirits guide me indeed.. she thought as she made her way to her destination. The pool nearby. Something was pulling on her, a tugging, barely noticeable but to her it was like a bright shining beacon. Rhonya could not resist this pull, just like someone starving for food would do anything to find their next meal. She had to answer.


She reached the silent waters without issues, nothing disturbing her aside from the normal things. Animals scurrying around in the trees and undergrowth around her, birds singing their last tunes to the ending of the day. Rhonya chose a quiet spot away from the path, a spot she used often, sitting down and folding her legs under herself. The waters in front of her were as clear as a mirror, no ripples, no disturbances. Her eyelids closed and she focused, reaching out with her entire being, opening her mind.
“Spirit of water, of life and growth, spirit of my heart.. I’ve heard your calling. I accept your guidance, I am here to serve. Please answer me.”
It was a regular plea, she knew if it really was this urgent, they would be there. They were calling for her after all, not the other way around.

As she opened her eyes again, a small ripple broke the water’s surface. Soon more followed, all starting from the point where her knees were almost touching the water’s edge. She leaned forwards, looking down into them.


Rhonya Steelheart…

The whisper was barely there. If she didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn she had imagined it, but she was used to water’s voice by now. If you could call it a voice. It was more of a feeling forming words, like hearing spring waterfalls coming down, a music in its own right if one took the time and effort to listen.

Look.


And she did. Rhonya saw herself, her own reflection. Long, black hair framed a friendly but worried looking face. The roundness of it was still there but it had gotten less over the years, time and experiences having hardened her features somewhat. The oddest things were still her eyes, the black pupils surrounded by a red rim, the rest of them blue, making her eyes almost look purple from a distance. No scars were visible on her skin, the only jewellery being her earrings, several necklaces and one small, silver ring in her nostril. For a few moments she merely looked at herself, not entirely sure what else she was supposed to be seeing, or what the message was if there was nothing else shown. But water required patience, so she showed it.

As Rhonya thought, it didn’t take very long. Ripples appeared again out of nowhere, outwards away from her reflection. As she looked, other figures started to appear in the water. Vague outlines, dark shadows of people. She squinted, trying to make out their features…
At her shoulder was Kozgugore. Her bloodbrother. Her Chieftain. There was no mistaking that wolfmask, the strong jaw coming from underneath and the broad shoulders. His image came slightly better into vision but remained blurry, the ripples distorting his features slightly. She began to recognize others now. Srelok on her other side. Gashuk beside him, Trakmar, Kogra, Nosh’marak, even Krogon and all the other faces she hadn’t seen in a long time.


Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes a short moment, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes and slowly making their way down her cheeks. Why were they being shown? Were they all gone, dead? Did it mean they passed over and were now all on the other side…? Or did it mean something else?
Rhonya opened her eyes once more, looking at the faces of those she loved, those she had cared for for such a long time. A tear fell from her face, adding its own little ripples to those still moving over the water’s surface.


Remember.


“Oh, I do remember…” she said softly, her voice a mere whisper as she reached  a hand to the water, so very lightly touching the surface close to where Kozgugores cheek was. As she did, the image changed. Brown. Mountains, cliffside passes and the sun shining down. Stonetalon. She recognized it easily. To her surprise, soon after, the water turned red and a feeling of dread filled her. A sign of danger?


Go.


Without further warning, the images disappeared and Rhonya was left looking at her own reflection once again, alone with a deep blackness around her. She sighed deeply, sitting back straight. It didn’t take long before she felt a sharp pang of pain coming from her hand, the burned rune in her skin there almost feeling as if it was on fire.


You are not alone. We will stand with you. Go.



This voice was different. Harsh but warm, almost painful but comforting, direct and commanding. Fire..
“Very well… I will go. For whatever reason it is, I will go. I trust you.” She spoke softly, lifting her chin and wiping her hand over her cheeks. Rhonya would need some time to prepare, tell the children, Sukeenah.

But she would go. Her family needed her.

"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."

Okiba

Okiba Spearbreaker - Nag'Ogar and Warrior Monk of the Horde
"Strength, Discipline, Mastery."


Kozgugore

Very good indeed! Love seeing people being particularly eager to pick up where the guild left off. Makes me hungry for moar!
Kozgugore Feraleye - Chieftain of the Red Blade

Rhonya

Crossroads. Rhonya had made it there easily without issues, following the road south from her hut on the back of her wolf, Keren. There were some people she had to talk to, some things she had to gather before she was ready to leave and start her journey to Stonetalon. She left Keren at the stablemaster while asking him how his mate was doing and telling him about her departure soon. She'd gotten to know these people and their lives.

After having done her rounds through town, Rhonya returned to the inn. She would stay here tonight, it was getting too dark to travel back safely on her own now. Her arms were filled with gifts from those she had visited, none of them had wanted to take any gold for it, even though Rhonya had tried to convince them she was very willing to pay them for the needed supplies. They hadn't wanted to listen to her. With a soft sigh, she made herself comfortable on one of the beds far in the corner, peering at the dark wall ahead of her.
Rhonya was nervous. Nervous about her travels, about what she might find, who she might find. It had been a rather simple life for her these past eight months. Not that she minded them being over, but she'd gotten used to the daily routines. Slowly she closed her eyes, but even sleep couldn't give her any rest tonight.


As Rhonya drifted into the depth of her sleep, she started to feel uneasy, queasy even, but in time her mind got taken over by her sub-conscious. Unbeknown to her, the runic tattoos on her back started to glow ever so slightly, creating a dull eerie light in the otherwise pitch black.

A blurred image appeared to come to focus in Rhonya's mind's-eye. To begin with, all she was able to make out was a colour. A dark green hue, immediately con notating with Fel Magic. As the scene began to focus, she noticed jagged cliffs, seeping pools of fel-lava and sensed the presence of angry, tormented spirits. For a moment it almost felt as if the hand of an Orc touched her shoulder softly, as her form began to coalesce in the vision-world surrounded by mist. The hand somehow felt familiar. But it didn't linger for long, leaving her confused and trying to make sense of what she was feeling and seeing.

Peering around the scene, she realised she actually recognized the area. Rhonya had never been here herself, but there were enough war stories going around in Orgrimmar and the surrounding towns to be able to know what she was looking at. In the distance, a looming Temple stared at her. A piercing stare that would unsettle even the most stoic of Shaman. The Temple looked elven in origin but had long since been lost to time.

Slowly Rhonya took a step forward, the ground in front of her beginning to clear of mist and revealed a plethora of twisted corpses. Many different races, with faces she both recognised faintly, but couldn't put the name too, and faces she didn't recognise at all. The same familiar face appeared more often than not, but before she was able to grasp the identity, she took another step and the corpse was replaced by another, and another, causing frustration whilst she lingered on it.

Out of nowhere, a furious scream deafened her, making her cringe. "No! You musn't! We need you!" - The voice was unknown, but appeared to be Orcish and male. The scream echoed before fading away, but it never faded entirely.

Eventually the sea of corpses began to come to an end, her journey actually felt like it had taken days and all the while the looming Temple had grown bigger and bigger in the background.
The corpses began to grow far and few between now, some even began to miss limbs. Arms, heads or legs. Occasionally, Rhonya only noticed a single limb. A foot or a hand with no body to attach it to. In time, all that she saw was the occasional hand - one small and pink, gnomish and one clawed and furry, a worgen.

Eventually she spotted a severed hand that belonged to a mystery Orc, the large hand gripping a wolf-tooth necklace and a small fur blanket, meant for a cub.

As she tried to lean down to investigate, the items began to burn and along with the hand, turned to ash.

The crackling fire was green.



With a loud gasp, Rhonya sat upright, for a moment in a panic, her back hurting and her legs stuck in the blanket. With a soft thud she actually rolled out of the bed, taking a crouched position in the corner beside it, eyes wide before she realised she was still just in the inn and nothing was happening.
Behind her, the glow of her tattoo's faded again. But she felt that they had reacted on something. She felt drained, tired.. sad.
The blanket and the necklace. The hand. That.. place. Felfire. Something had happened to her Bloodbrother.
Hiding her head in her hands and breathing calmly, Rhonya tried to calm herself down. They had been the first gifts given to her when she was pregnant. Even then he had already started to teach her proper orcish customs, gifting her things for the upcoming cub.

Gashuk. Had he really gone to that place? And who had the voice belonged to? It hadn't sounded like anyone Rhonya knew. The burning hand. It couldn't be anything good. But what could she do? From here, absolutely nothing, to her frustration.
Slowly she stood up again, untangling herself from the thin blankets. Just wearing her thin nightrobe, Rhonya wandered outside to get some fresh air. It was still dark, she'd perhaps slept for a few hours at most. She settled down on one of the small hills below the watchtower, looking out over the dark plains below.

"Brother.. Be safe, wherever you are, please. Spirits, watch over him if you can..."

But a painful feeling deep in her stomach told her it was too late. One could hope, however.


((Credits for the vision go to Gashuk! <3 ))
"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."

Gashuk

Ooooh! It's heating up now :D
-Gashuk, Son of Garrak-
"When the ashes fall and the green winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."

Rhonya

The calm was slowly returning. Orcs were heading back to their furs to desperately try and get some more shuteye for a few hours before it’d be too light to do so. Puddles of blood were still soaking into the earth, the pyre in the middle of camp still smoking. The air was still rich with the smell of burning flesh and ash and it would probably remain as such for a while longer.

Huddled close to the main tent, against one of the sides just beneath a small overhang was Rhonya. Covered in a bunch of furs wrapped close around her, she stared ahead, following the first rays of sunlight slowly creep over the camp. She hadn’t been able to sleep anymore. She knew that it’d come back to bite her in the ass later, especially because there were probably still some wounded orcs around and who knew what the new day might bring. Some assassins had escaped after all.

A deep sigh escaped from between her lips as she pulled the furs entirely over her head now too. It’d be so easy to remain hidden here, to not get bothered today… But she couldn’t.
Rhonya had tried to keep a positive outlook the past week. Had tried to keep a welcoming smile on her face for everyone who spoke to her, to soothe their worries and make them feel at home again with the tribe. Or for those that had just arrived and knew no one yet, to make them feel welcome. But her mask was slowly cracking now.
Worry had taken root deep in her stomach, worry about her bloodbrother and the others still missing. She had walked into the camp yesterday looking for answers. All that they had gotten were more questions. No Feraleye, no nothing. An empty camp, no sign of anything or anyone, aside from the assassins. They had all expected a trap, but.. not like this.
There was no sign yet on who they had been, how they knew of all the Orcs. How they knew of Kozgugore and that there would be orcs answering the call. Two were taken prisoner that Rhonya knew of, but she doubted they would talk. She had no way to reach out for Kozgugore either, the spirits were ,as usual, very unclear with their messages and visions, if they even showed anything to begin with.

And for some reason, most of the orcs still looked to her for leadership and guidance. Something she had put aside long ago already, but yet she was apparently the ‘go to’ for questions and other things. Bloodpaw had taken the mantle of official leadership for now, which she was proud of, at least. He hadn’t asked for it, but him being the only one of rank still there, he had done it without complaining.

Rhonya peeked through the furs, outside. The sun was up properly now, the camp slowly coming to life again as Orcs started to take care of whatever was left to clean or inspect from the attack the night before. She should get out there herself, clean herself up and do a round for the wounded…
With a soft grunt she turned around on her other side. Few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone…
"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."

Kozgugore

Poor Rhon! Back to being the tribe shrink again. :D Great to see the effects that the campaign is having on the orcs so far though! The more development among one another, the better! \o/ And Rhon's always been good for a fair amount of that.
Kozgugore Feraleye - Chieftain of the Red Blade

Rhonya

The others continued talking still, standing at her bed. Rhonya didn't really hear them anymore, she was just staring down into this cup of glowing blue water. It looked utterly creepy and not something she'd normally voluntarily drink. But Arhnum had given it to her, and she trusted him. Rhonya realised she might’ve been a bit quiet to him and perhaps hadn’t seemed very happy to see him, but she was just so tired…

Shrewd on her lap let out a soft huff through his nose. He was still there with her, even though his life companion had walked outside on his own. She was happy for it though, because if Shrewd was comfortable here with her, it meant that her bloodbrother was safe as well. The wolf would let her know if something was amiss, the bond between those two was stronger than anything else she’d seen so far, when it came to wolf and orc.

Sometimes she envied that bond. Personally Rhonya had never had something so deep, so pure, so.. primal. Wild. Some could argue that her connection with the elements was something to envy in return, but that was more of a mutual agreement of aid, not so much a bond of love and care. Especially now that Sadok was gone and her cubs safely away from her, she was very happy with someone just… being there for her. Shrewd might’ve not been able to talk to her with words or feelings like with her brother, but the fact he was there and gave her his attention was enough for now.
She’d had a short moment with Kozgugore too, for which she was very glad. Not often did Rhonya show her affection for him in such a public place, but… She couldn’t help herself earlier. Tired, hurting both mentally and physically, worried about him.. so when he finally had a bit of time and stood before her, all she could think of doing was just to put her arms around his neck, place her head against his shoulder and breathe in the scent of the brother that had been lost to her for so long. Finally the weight was off her shoulders, the worries that he’d been killed or taken captive when he hadn’t showed in Stonetalon.

Rhonya’s hand moved gently to scratch Shrewd behind an ear. She was still looking down into the cup. Ten hours, Arhnum had said. Like a coma, but she’d wake up as if she had slept a lot longer, her energy returned. She hoped he was right.
So without any more hesitation, she downed the blue glowing water, pulling a bit of a face at the taste. Some things were spoken to the others in the inn, but her head was already feeling a little weird, so she actually didn’t have much of a clue what she was saying.
Rhonya set the cup aside and shifted herself on the bed, very gently removing her legs from under Shrewd his head, lying down beside him instead. He turned his head and laid it on her stomach instead, just as comfortable. Lightly putting her arm around his neck in return, Rhonya noticed the others leaving.

A few minutes later, a very, very heavy darkness came over her, like a massive blanket being spread over her mind. Last thing she felt was Shrewds soft fur under her hands, before she lost consciousness.

"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."

Okiba

Okiba Spearbreaker - Nag'Ogar and Warrior Monk of the Horde
"Strength, Discipline, Mastery."