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Cannonfire

Started by Sakinra/Akanra, June 03, 2016, 04:34:49 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Sakinra/Akanra

((Disclaimer: Mine and Saki's view of last nights events, written with sleep deprived memory; Any issues, inaccuracies, feel free to correct me.

Disclaimer2: She's not dead. I'll write part2 later.))

----------------------------------------------

"Cannonfire!"


The roar of warning cut across the field of battle too late, punctuating the low rumbling thunder of the ships mortar. Screams rang out as goblin, pirate, and Orc alike were caught in its deadly blast. Cut down and thrown aside. Some had been missed, others fortunate enough to dive aside.


But not all.


"Rageheart, Rageheart, get up..."


Rhonya's voice echoed distantly. The world strangely muffled as if under water. Sakinra reached up, taking the orcess's arm, bracing herself for balance her left leg still caught in its splint, as she hauled herself upright.


"Are you alright?"


The voice so dim and deadened. Blinking, she watched the concern etched in the healers face, Sakinra struggling to focus on the world around her. So many hours had already been poured into patching up the unfortunate warrior.


'That's the eternal battle, you warriors want to be out there helping, while we healers want to get you rested and fit....'


Sakinra nods.


"I'm fine. Go. The others."


She spoke shortly, curtly, the pain bloomed dull and throbbing in her chest. Something was badly wrong...


...her eyes followed Rhonya, settling on the bloodied burned body of another, clinging to life...


... But not as bad as it could be.


Sakinra stumbled over to lend what aid she could. Disguising spluttered coughs and wheezing, as bullets and explosions tore through the air around them, she lifted the younger, smaller Orcess from the sands and carried her away from the field of battle, before leaving her under Rhonya's supervision.


Blood dripped from her shredded ear, as she got close enough to see the tribe. They fought ferociously.


There was a job to be done.


Wheezing for breath, Sakinra steeled herself to speak.


This was a distraction.


"Push on, I'll guard... the wounded."


Guard the wounded? You are the wounded.


Feraleye glanced to her, as his axes found their mark in another pirate. The human spluttering in a bloodied heap with his throat open.


"Your call Rageheart. Rejoin us when you can, we're going to need every one we can get..."


She nodded curtly, not trusting herself to speak. As swiftly as she could, she returned to the injured and Rhonya, putting the barricades between herself and the portside cannons of the ships.


"How... is she?"


Sakinra grimaced, choking on her words. The shaman lifted her hands away from the young Orcess, Pushing herself to stand she looked up to Saki.


"I've done all I can for her here, the rest shall have to wait until we're back at town."


Sakinra nodded. Looking over the females form. Laid in the sands, already her burns were sealed over and beginning to heal.


"Go help the others. I'll call, if needed."


The Shaman hesitated for a moment, before she nodded and left, headed quickly to rejoin the Red Blade as they lived up to their name, carving a bloody path to the ships.


Sakinra looked to her charge. The sounds of battle were still painfully close.


They were exposed here. All it would take was a handful of fleeing pirates. Making a decision she bent down and scooped up the Orcess, murmuring apologies as her 'patient' grimaced in pain, her armour disintegrating and falling abandoned behind.


Never was there a worse nursemaid than you Rageheart.


Step. Drag. Step. Drag. Step.


Progress was slow. The light sand would have made difficult work for her splinted leg in even the best condition, but like this?


What had started as a dull ache of pain has blossomed and bloomed into an inferno of agony raging in her chest. Her arms locked she could barely bring herself to look down at the Orcess in her grip, the unfathomable weight, light enough to begin with, now nearly unbearable, slowing them down.


Drag. Step. Drag.


The beach had never seemed so long, the cave so distant. Wheezing with every breath. The hot, wet, metallic taste accumulated at the back of her throat, splattered inside her faceplate.


She slumped onto her knees, beneath the tree.


Less than forty paces to the cave. Forty paces too far.


Carefully propping up the Orcess against a tree. .


"I'm sorry, you'd rather be out there fighting, with them...."


She spoke softly, quietly. Seeming to Sakinra almost as if she expected a scolding for dragging her away from the field.


Sakinra laughed softly, her face contorted in pain as the laugh morphed into a vicious cough.


She removed her own faceplate hacking blood into the sand. Wiping her blood splattered mouth with the soft palm of her Gauntlets.


"What I want...and what I should do... Are two vastly... Different things..."


"Are...are you alright?"


"I'm fine."



Sakinra waved a hand dismissively.


There's no point concerning her. Speaking hurts. Fel, at this point breathing does.


"I miss home...My stories.... I miss... My sister..."


She spoke softly, dreamily. Sakinra dragged herself from her own self pity. She was here to look after the girl.


"Where's home?"


"...Lordaeron..."


The Orcess slumped sideways. Sakinra dove to catch her, trying to prop her against the tree, tapping her face.


"Oh no, no no, no you don't get to go to sleep on me. You were telling me about your home..."



Blinking back to consciousness, she was forced to keep talking, made to chatter vaguely about her home, her family, with Sakinra prompting with questions whenever she fell silent.


The name of 'Emrest' attached itself to something in the Warrioress' mind. But grasping the conversation was becoming harder.


Across the mental link she listened to the panicked shouts of the Tribe.


'Is this moving?'

'Did you feel that,'

'Shit, does anyone know how to drop an anchor on this thing?'



A flicker of concern crossed her face. Help would not be returning soon. Grasping for a topic Sakinra asked the Orcess to tell her what her favourite story had been.


'Emrest' lit up almost instantly.


"It was about a princess, who travelled to a strange and dangerous land, and had adventures so one day she would return as a wise and noble queen... I... I always wanted to be her as a child."


Sakinra laughed softly. The sound once again betraying her into the grasp of another coughing fit. Balling her hand into a fist, she tried to mask the severity into it. Spluttering to a halt.


"Look at you now. Off having adventures in a strange land..."


Sakinra watched as tears brimmed in the Orcess's eyes. Her voice catching.


"But I'm not, I'm not a princess, I'm not having adventures, I just end up needing saving all the time by the tribe..."


Nice going Rageheart.


Sakinra reached and took hold of her shoulders, hushing her.


She's seen so little, and is so afraid...


"Each of us need saving... from time to time...And the Tribe will always be there to.... Sometimes it's just...your turn to be unlucky..."


....there's nothing she could do...


Sakinra smiles briefly. Her speech becoming more laboured as she wheezes, a sick, crackling gargle edged every word.


....She doesn't need to watch this.


"Can you ride?"


"I... I think so..."



Sakinra nodded, whistling sharply.


Her worg ran towards them from out of the cave, where he had been waiting.


"I want you to take him...he'll carry you to Gadgetzan... Keep you safe until they... we... return"


The Orcess climbed into the saddle before looking down to Sakinra.


"What about you?"


Sakinra forced her smile.


"I'll be fine, I'll join the others."


"You promise you'll be alright?"


She nodded grimly. Not able to utter a promise she can't keep.


"Go, it'll be okay, don't worry."


She smoothed a hand through the Worgs fur, before striking its flank.


She watched in silence, as the worg bore its cargo away.


"Ride swiftly..."


In her mind, the voices of the tribe seemed so distant. They were too far to help.


Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. The eternal, rushing, throbbing hiss, grew slower.


Quieter.


She cleaned her faceplate with the palm of her glove. Carefully refastening it on.


The world swam around her.


Quiet. Almost Peaceful.


She carefully removed her axes, laying them beside her.


The pain in her chest was complete. All consuming. Each coughing fit, each wheezing breath having driven shattered rib and bone deeper into delicate flesh and organs.


Blood pooled and gathered in the lower reaches of her lungs.


Breath shallow.


Patiently she waited, Each moment the pain seemed to matter less.


Pain so complete, but somehow detached from her.


Blood loss taking its toll.


She lay down in the sand, she could feel the blood oozing from her mouth.


Above the stars were clear and bright.


No. She didn't need to watch.


Not when there's nothing to be done. It's better this way.


Without fight.


Without fear.



Sakinra closed her eyes, lips parting, soft, embracing darkness.


"Ancestors welcome me."

We're going to have a Grown up Party! It's just like a kids party, but with more crying....

Srelok

Cliffhanger!

Good read though xD

"If you could pour pain into a mold of an orc and then cut off its foot to piss it off, you’d get Srelok." Gulrok Ragehowl

Rhonya

But.. I already know what happens next!  :(
"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."

Sakinra/Akanra

*retcons what Rhon knows, dying horribly instead*
We're going to have a Grown up Party! It's just like a kids party, but with more crying....

Sakinra/Akanra

#4
Sakinra turned back towards the strange city of the the Tol'vir, its tall sandstone walls protecting it from the elements. The warm nights winds carried the scent of the lake and rivers, masking the bitter sting of the sand blown across the vast deserts. The Soft grasses and earth between her toes.


Each step felt so heavy, as if her feet were made of clay, legs bound in stone, struggling to move forwards, every fibre of her being wanting to turn back and undo what she had done.


Rubbing the palm of her hand over her face, she prepared to step once more into the braziers light. Wrapping her arms around her chest. She lifted her head, standing proud.


She was Warsong. Not some snivelling pup. When it came to it. Warsong would always do what had to be done.


The Ramkahen guardian raised his spear, watching the Orcess as she passed. Before looking back the way she had come. There  was the figure of another, silhouetted against the moonlight on the lakes surface.


It had to be done.


------------------------------------


She ran, screaming laughter breaking from her lips. Her hair streaming out behind her like a river's flow, fire wild in her eyes as she found her stride, getting faster and faster as the barren soil blurred beneath her feet.


"Come on! Keep Up!"


Glancing over her shoulder, Okram was struggling. A film of sweat formed on his skin. Frostwolves truely did struggle with the heat. She could hear his breath. He was faltering. She glanced behind him.



"Saki! We can't out run them!"


The dust was rising across the plains of the barrens. The violent war-cries in the distance, the sound of thunder growing louder.


"Not with that attitude! We all know Frostwolves can't run as fast!"


She slowed enough to graps his hand before plunging forwards, dragging him on. Under her other arm she kept tight hold of her prize. The Kolkar chest.


"You're... going.... to.... get us.... killed..."


"You Wish Okram!"


She flashed him a grin, and looked towards the Crossroads in the distance. Rising above the barricades was the watchtower. Behind them the Kolkar raiding party was gaining ground. A spear flew past the two whelplings and buried itself into the ground a few yards ahead.


Maybe they couldn't out-run them.


But then she wasn't counting on being able to out-run them, she was counting on-


- There - the horns rang out, the sweetest sound, barely able to hear it over the closing Thunder. The roar of the guards called to arms, barked orders as the town braced for the oncoming assault. Defenders flooded out of the gates, to put themselves between the two whelps and the thundering hooves of the Centaur.


Sakinra and Okram passed through the gates, before they were slammed shut behind them. The sound of battle and bloodshed raged on the other side.


"See. Told you it'd be fine."


Okram stared at her, speechless. He yanked his hand free, shaking his head at her.


"You're going to get yourself killed Saki. That's fine. Just don't make me watch, I don't need a front row seat."


She snorted a laugh.


"You don't get rid of me that easy. Really, Okram... Ok-"


He'd already walked off. She sighed. Turning her attention back to the Chest under one arm.


"Let's see what you've got hm?"


------------------------------------


There was a crunch.


Then a sickly, squelching movement. Bone beneath skin. Muscle ripped.


Something was bubbling, between her ribs. Rippling upwards only to run down her flesh, hot and wet.


Pressure, a great weight on her chest, her arms. Holding her down.


She tried to move, and couldn't.


She tried to open her eyes.


And couldn't.


This wasn't right.


Something wasn't right.


Her eyes flickered open, the ceiling of the tavern blurred above her. Srelok Grimtide swam through her vision.


Words muffled and inaudible were drowned out by screaming.


Her view shifted.


An Orc she couldn't remember the name of was pinning her. Rhonya seemed to be nearby.


Her jaw ached.


She tried to move, but they held her down.


The screaming was deafaning. It drowned out everything else.


Then the pain hit her.


Drowning out all other thought, it flowed like lava through her veins.


It was her screaming, her throat shredded and bloodied by the force of her own howls as her ribs were pulled back into place.


Her blood running from the dagger embedded in her chest, allowing her to breathe.


All eyes watched her in fear and concern as they battled to save her.


She reached out, grasping for anyone, her hand seeking another.


It closed around someone's arm.


She clung on. Desperate for a point of reference. Not understanding, so afraid.


Her hand was peeled from the arm. Held in the soothing grasp of another.


Everything shifted again. Srelok left, to be replaced with Rhonya. Her soothing words, her quiet voice calming. The pain dulled.


Everything blurred once more


------------------------------------


Crouched behind the inn Sakinra focused on her task. The 'borrowed' blacksmith's tools crammed into the lock of the chest making metallic grinding noises as they were churned. The sounds of the earlier battle had long since dimmed.


"Come on... come on..."


She had her back to the road. Trusting the stabled worgs nearby to alert her to anyone nearby. Sakinra yelped as she was hauled backwards by the straps of her harness. Kicking and squirming she fought to see her attacker.


The low, menacing laughter rolled behind her.


"Feisty one isn't she? Fetch what she was working on."


She watched as a large Orc pass her and bend down to pick up the chest and tools. He looked back to her.


"Ho ho, what have you got here? These look like Traugh's. He's been wandering around asking after them. Apprentice is no use without his tools."


"A thief and a trouble maker?"


"I'm not a thief! I was just borrow-"


Her words cut short as she was dropped to the ground, before she could pick herself up, the Orc had hold of her throat and lifted her, until she was nose to nose with him. Legs dangling. She grasped his wrist, trying to pull his fingers from around her neck and stop herself choking.


"Listen Whelp. Arguing is only going to make it wor-"


His words were cut short, and morphed into a pained snarl as the young Orcess's foot kicked out harshly, finding its mark in his crotch. As his grip loosened around her neck, she took advantage, pulling her head back enough to be able to bite him. He yowled in pain and dropped her and she sprinted for the gates.


"Stop Her!"


The second Orc roared, lumbering after her with the chest.


No one could beat her for speed over a hundred yards, she knew that. Certainly not with a head-start.


There was a hiss, and a sting of pain. Sakinra looked at her shoulder, her eyes focused blearily on the feathered dart sticking out of her shoulder.  Hula'mahi stood in the distance, lowering his blow pipe.


"Ligh's ou' mon."


Sakinra opened her mouth to protest and crashed into the barren earth.


------------------------------------


"Path of Strength is made of the Nag'Ogar. The tribes Battle hardened Iron Guard, and the Rosh'tul, it's Warleaders, and well, we're the backbone of the tribe. We break, the tribe breaks. We have to make our strength theirs, to care for them, protect them, defend them. We are the tribes shield, giving our bodies and our lives for the Tribe. I'd die for every one of you, without a Second thought. Does that answer your question?"


Sakinra wrapped an arm around her knees, watching the breeze move the woven fabric shades, high on the walls of Ramkahen, protecting the alley below. She listened to Lom'rak talk, nodding slowly.


"Any other questions about it?"


"What's the best part of it?"


"I get to do what I do best, for a good reason."


She smiles briefly, nodding at that one. Ex Kor'kron knew all about the importance of having a good reason.


"And the worst part?"


Lom'rak remained quiet for a moment, considering his answer.


"Not feeling like I have time for a family, and if I had one, not feeling like I'd give enough time for them. The tribe would always come first."


"Fair answers. Thank you. Would you recommend this path, to a New Blood?"


The grizzled orc set his gaze on her, weighing her up.


"I would not have chosen it, if I did not think it was worth choosing. What about you? Why do you want to walk this path?"


Sakinra laughed softly, the movement bringing only the slightest wince these days from her bruises.


"That's not decided yet whether I will for certain. I'm still finding out about each path. But in truth it's likely. If I did, it'd be because it's what I've always done. What I'm trained for..."


She trailed off.


"We are the tribes shield, giving our bodies and our lives for the Tribe. I'd die for every one of you, without a Second thought."


His words echoed in her mind. She had always feared death. All Warsong, all orcs to some extent, wished for a good death, a warriors death. But she had feared it, like a cornered wolf, snarling and snapping at the brandished torch. The more frightened it is, the more dangerous it became.


Images rose, memories of sending Izeira off with her Worg, making sure the girl got away and didn't have to watch her die helplessly. They almost felt like a story she'd been told, like they belonged to someone else.


She had been so sure she was going to meet her ancestors, doing her small part for the tribe, albeit substantially sooner than she'd wanted, she had found not fear, but a quiet acceptance and peace.


She'd been surprised how willingly she'd slipped into that path. How she had been prepared to give her life for the tribe.


Without a second thought.


And then, she hadn't.


She'd awoken in blinding pain and confusion as the menders and healers battled to save her life.


In the end leaving her with only bruises.


She had been given life back. It made sense to her now, that it would be spent protecting those who'd saved her.
We're going to have a Grown up Party! It's just like a kids party, but with more crying....

Rashka

Yessss! More Nag'ogars! \o/ Poor Saki though. Srelok surgeries are evil. Just ask Rashka xD
Rashka Facebreaker - Battlesworn of the Nag'Ogar

Srelok

They're not evil.... You just need to earn that anaesthetic first. ;)

"If you could pour pain into a mold of an orc and then cut off its foot to piss it off, you’d get Srelok." Gulrok Ragehowl

Kogra Windwatcher

You're from the path of Strength, walk it off Rashka!
"Never leave an enemy to die alone in the cold. Warriors should die with hot blood on their hands, not with ice in their veins"

Groshnok

Quote from: Srelok on June 07, 2016, 11:55:33 AM
They're not evil.... You just need to earn that anaesthetic first. ;)

In reality, Srelok just doesn't know that anaesthetics exist!

Bamm

So Srelok needs a anaesthetic's whacking stick/billy club/taser?

Srelok

He has a wooden foot, could whack you with that if prefered?

"If you could pour pain into a mold of an orc and then cut off its foot to piss it off, you’d get Srelok." Gulrok Ragehowl

Sakinra/Akanra

#11
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.
We're going to have a Grown up Party! It's just like a kids party, but with more crying....

Nosh'marak

"Dogs obey and whimper, wolves carve their own path with a roar! Let the Alliance hear your cries for battle! Rrosh'ka Valokh! For the Blood!"