This is a story I'm writing as an attempt to break through the writer's block I occasionally get with others. The length of it keeps growing, so I decided to post it. Comments are always welcome. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy it!
"Come, I'd like to show you something."
Curiosity beckoned her to follow the stranger, past the faceless inhabitants of the outdoor gathering she found herself at. They weaved their way through decrepit ruins of an ancient elvish civilization, once grand and glorious. A low, silver moonlight blanketed the strange flora, the environment portraying an ethereal feel. Large trees surrounded them, giving her the sense of being but a mere ant among giants.
He stopped in a small clearing. The voices and laughter of the party, suddenly, silenced. His face changed, showing her a menacing, viscous grin. His body convulsed, and he fell on all fours, screaming in pain, grabbing the sides of his head with his hands.
The environment changed. The flora began to die, leaving nothing but wilted and dead carcasses. The bark of the great trees withered, fading to an almost gray color. Sickly, long vines stretched downwards, giving the once beautiful grove an ominous and frightening feel.
She watched as his skin began to split open, with new tissue and bone snapping into place. Gray fur began to seep through the tattered rips in his skin.
It was…him.
She woke up after rolling off her bed and crashing onto the cabin floor. It was rough seas again. The Captain opened the door, snarling at her sprawled out, disorientated form.
"Buckle up, rough weather ahead. If you're feeling useful, come up to the deck and help strap down the goods. If your luggage falls over, it's not our problem."
He slammed the door. She heard the same thing being repeated to Martyn next door...and, apparently, someone else.
"Damnit man! The ship is flopping about like a fish on dry land, and all you can think of is that?!" She heard a growl, then the patter of feet disappearing.
The image of her companion flashed in her mind. Her wild and vivid dreams would rotate between the random men she had met on this planet. Last night's choice was Martyn.
She shivered, her face portraying a disgusted look. Her mind could be cruel and sick, no doubt. While Martyn was an attractive man, his personality simply did not mesh well with hers; he was an elitist asshole. They were associates, no more. Plus, he slept with a lot of women…human, elf…goat, it didn't matter.
She untangled herself from the sheets and grabbed her boots, stumbling against the wall as the waves knocked the ship about. A few minutes later she fell out of her room, hanging onto the door handle, as she swung to the left, struggling to keep balance.
She glanced to Martyn's door; it was shut and a loud moan erupted from the other side. She rolled her eyes, and pulled herself onward, tying her cloak closer as she tripped her way up the stairs.
Rain blasted her in the face, and the wind almost knocked her back down the steps. She grabbed onto a rope that was secured to the deck, pulling herself along. A few of the crew could be seen ahead, moving about in the same fashion. She tied the rope around her waist; no sense in falling off the deck and to an early grave.
A few lanterns swung about, spreading distorted light across the wet, wooden planks. It was pitch black, and she stumbled over various items, all of which were sliding across the deck like an air hockey table. When she would come across a moving object, she would snare it and try to find rope nearby to secure it to the railing…anything.
She concluded that her luggage was, more than likely, making its way down into the black depths of the strange ocean. Perhaps some Naga would take an interest in her underwear? The thought made her laugh out loud, as she envisioned a myrmidon wearing lacy pink panties.
"Something humorous, human?"
He was nearly shouting and growling at her at the same time. The dog had a personality akin to an ice cube. Her nose wrinkled when she recognized the same gray fur that had presented itself in her dream. He definitely looked like a werewolf; it was only natural for her unconscious mind to imagine the rest.
"Yeah…your mother."
A large wave swept over the deck and she lost her footing, sliding back and fortunately jerking to a stop, thanks to the rope around her waist. She hefted herself up, a little shaky from the near dive into the blackness below. She felt a large claw wrap around her wrist and pull her forward. Looking up, she saw matted, soaked fur. A mouth full of large canines hovered above her head.
"Be careful. I'll lose most of my payment if I show up to Stormwind without you."
She shielded her face, narrowing her eyes on him. "Yes, we can't have that, can we? How else will you afford your flea shampoo?"
He snarled, tightening his grip on her. Another wave hit the deck, and she felt him let go, as he lost balance, falling backwards. He had been foolish enough to move about the deck, unbound to anything stationary, and began to slide across the slick surface, towards the edge. She skidded across the wooden planks, feeling splinters embed themselves into whatever skin was bare. Her hands latched onto his waist band, and she thrusted her arms around his hips, holding on as tight as she could.
He was an asshole, but he was also the one responsible for getting her to her destination, and more importantly, away from Martyn.
The boat was on a sharp incline. Her muscles were beginning to burn, and she started to breath heavy, groaning a bit. As the boat leveled itself, she felt his hands grab onto her torso and he pulled himself back up. She lied there, trying to recover her breath, her palms aching from the splinters, watching the scenery rotate over ninety degrees from the boat's continuous rocking. He stepped over her, growling, as he continued to the other side of the deck.
She laughed. "You're welcome, prick…"
She was in her tiny cabin room, sitting with her legs crossed on the bed. In her hand was a rustic and primitive form of tweezers. In front of her was the bloody remnants of slivers of wood.
She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to gear herself for some more sharp pain. Martyn was a "mage", and she had a feeling he could magically get rid of this, but he was preoccupied on the deck above her head. One of his bags had fallen off the ship, and he was threatening to "bring the entire shipping company down".
It was his bag full of love potions and cologne. She snorted.
A knock sounded on her door in the middle of her attempt to pull out another splinter. She hissed.
"Come in."
She did not look up, as she was focused on ending the ridiculous amount of pain in her right palm. She heard a chair moving and felt a presence appear in front of her. Suddenly, large, hairy hands took hers.
Her head snapped up. He was looking down, assessing the damage to her skin. A low light began to emanate, and she immediately focused on it. He was…casting something on her.
She felt the wooden slivers moving out of her palms, but there was no pain. The skin began to heal itself, and a white, calming light washed over her hands, spreading up through her arms. He released his grip.
She brought her hands up to her face, turning them over, then back again. Her face had an expression of confusion. She had seen the Draenei perform "spells", but she had never been exposed to this.
"You have never been healed before, I take it." His voice was gruff and deep. It was hard to decipher if he was berating an individual, or simply engaging in conversation. Perhaps…she had been mistaken with his demeanor?
"It all seems so…incredible. I forget…sometimes…" She shook her head, bringing herself back into focus with the Worgen in front of her. "Thank you, Captain."
"You are not one of my crew. Please, call me Colton. And thank you, Ms. Kardashian. I do believe I owe you my life." His orange eyes glowed with a low radiance.
She struggled keeping her face straight. Had she known this place was actually real, and not a dream, she would have used a different name.
Her phone beeped in her bag, under the bed. Colton startled, looking down towards the floor. She jumped up, nearly knocking him back.
"Well, I feel great! Thank you so much Bolton!"
"Colton." He snarled.
"Of course! Here, let me help you up." She yanked on his hands, pulling him up as fast as she could, using the momentum to drag him across the tiny room, and out into the hallway.
"Have a fantastic day!" She slammed the door and ran over to her bed, dragging the bag out from underneath. She swiped "Off", silencing the alarm.
In her short duration on this strange planet, she had attempted to keep whatever had been with her a secret. Her goal was to pass thru as no more than an average "human", and eventually find her way home. Her phone had been damaged 'upon entry', most likely from being submerged in water. It was amazing that it still worked, and she theorized that the local "magic" was the cause.
The only ones who knew were the space goats that found her washed up on the shore. However, the Draenei, in general, were of a good sort…travelers themselves. Nothing she owned shocked them much, and they went about their business, usually patting her head like a child when she would try to show them pictures of her home. They had warned her that the other denizens of this strange planet may not be as accepting.
Her inability to communicate with them was what brought Martyn. They had sent word to Stormwind (a human city, as it was explained) that "one of their own" had washed up on shore, speaking a language that even Velen, their leader, had never heard. Martyn's only purpose was to assess her situation.
The Draenei had set her outside their great city, near the docks. She was not allowed to come closer, as they were unsure of her origins, as well as her motivations. While it was a slight, they still treated her well. Then Martyn showed up, speaking down to her, making demeaning gestures as a form of communication. She had gotten fed up with the treatment, proceeding to communicate in sign language that he had a "very small dick". He blew out of the fishing shack with a disgusted look, his arms in the air, signifying that she was a low-grade moron. One of the residents took pity on her, casting a warm light over her head. Suddenly, she could understand them…
Colton peaked through a crack in the door, taking note at the strange objects she was rummaging through. Interesting, indeed. His "Captain" role was a mere façade; he was employed by S1:7, with his instructions being to deliver the foreigner to the Mage District. However, she was also to remain his charge, until further notice. The Kingdom perceived her as potentially valuable, and perhaps the first visitor from an uncharted land on Azeroth, or even another world.
He growled, pushing himself back and heading towards his quarters. He should have stayed in the priesthood…
She had her bag swung over her shoulder, attempting to navigate the crowded streets of the massive city. Michael Bolton was moving fast in front of her. Occasionally, he would stop, looking behind him, only to find her staring in a window shop in utter amazement. He would then growl loudly, motioning her to keep up. She mostly ignored him.
A toy train moved around in a circular fashion, as a small, animatronic gorilla beat its chest. Children were running in and out of the shop in delight. A squeal or shout would resonate from within, followed by laughter.
She smiled. It almost seemed…normal. A large, hairy hand touched her shoulder.
"Come."
Her feet pushed her forward. The outskirts of the Draenei city had been magnificent to see, but this place was beyond imagination. It was what a Sci-fi version of the Renaissance festival would look like. Above her head, she saw the blue scales of a dragon shimmer. It was heading right towards her.
She sprinted off, hopping over a cart into a small alley on the side. She crouched, putting her bag over her head, trembling, hoping that she wouldn't be ate or burned to death. She felt a warm hand on her arm.
"Ms. Kardashian…what is wrong?"
Her eyes looked up, past that lumbering wolf in front of her. She saw the large, blue dragon walk on all fours on the cobblestone. Suddenly, a bluish haze formed around it, and a man stepped forth from the fog. Her jaw dropped.
"That's…not real…"
Colton turned around, seeing one of the blue dragonflight engaged in conversation with a gnome, selling sweets. He swerved his head back to the odd women on the ground. Her eyes still wide, with panic.
"Do you want me to carry you? Because this is becoming ridiculous."
Her eyes snapped to him, a blaze of fury hidden behind hazel orbs. "No, but you can go fuck yourself."
He growled, then reached down, picking her up in one swoop move, and throwing her over his shoulder. He stepped out of the alley and back into the street, ignoring the looks the citizens were giving him. She let herself hang there; defeated. Her feet ached, anyways.
An oompa loompa was staring at her. She was sitting on a wooden chair, still breathing heavy from the massive ramp they had climbed to get to the top of the "mage's tower". They had left the ill-mannered dog at the entrance, instructing him to wait until they were finished with her. He looked completely pissed off and disgruntled.
She grinned; hopefully this would take a very, long time.
"What happened before you arrived here?"
She cleared her throat. "I was heading home from the gym, up the street, and I heard a strange noise behind the Subway, by my apartment. It sounded like a loud, electrical buzz, and I saw the reflection of a bright, blue light flashing on the brick wall. My first thoughts was that a power line had fallen. When I went back there, there was this…portal, I think."
"You're not sure? Portals are pretty obvious."
She narrowed her eyes. "I had never seen a portal before. They don't exist."
An older man, with a large, pointy hat and robe, was looking at her exercise pants. He would stretch them out, holding them up to a floating ball of light, trying to deduce what material they were. It was amusing to watch, if anything.
"And then what happened?"
"I lost consciousness, and woke up on the shore of some strange land, where a person with goat legs dragged me out of the water."
The Draenei in the corner glanced up, her ethereal glowing eyes narrowing in on her. "Sorry, I meant no disrespect. Your race is incredibly beautiful." The female smiled, returning to the book magically floating in front of her.
The tiny person chuckled. Noise from some sort of commotion outside the room echoed. All three inhabitants looked at the door when it opened. "Kalec!"
A man, dressed in brown, thick clothing, stepped in. He wore a white tunic, and carried various leather and metal clasps over his arms and legs. He reminded her of an old-fashioned explorer.
With blue hair.
"Ah, a visitor, I see?" His fiercely bright blue eyes narrowed in on her. "A traveler, no less." She felt something prick her mind, and her eye twitched. A headache? She glanced around the room, wondering if they had aspirin here.
"Ms. Jones, I hope the mages are treating you well?"
Her eyes widened. He glanced at her, confused. The little person spoke up. "Her name is Kim Kardashian. I'm sorry Kalec, there must have been a mistake on her paperwork."
He glanced back at the woman in the chair. "Yes…of course. May I speak to our guest in private?"
The other two nodded, and quickly grabbed some items, heading out of the room, shutting the door. The strange, blue-haired man walked towards her. She slunk in the chair a little bit with each step.
"You go by Vicky, am I correct?"
She nodded, barely.
He chuckled. "Fear not, my friend. It is not uncommon to communicate with your mind in this world. While yours is easily accessed, you, however, lack the ability to respond. In fact, you entirely lack any magic; so much it makes you noticeable."
She sighed, putting her head in her palm. She had her elbow propped on her knee. This was the last thing she needed. Not only was she on a different planet, but she also gave off a strange vibe…or a lack of a vibe.
She'd only survive a week, tops.
He laughed, reaching over to grab her shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. She looked up into his face; it was like he stepped straight out of a magazine. He was gorgeous. A smell crossed her nose. It smelled like…
His blue eyebrows scrunched together. "What is Tide?"
She laughed.
"Sorry Atherton. I'm sure you understand. Orders are orders."
He growled. He did not sign up with the organization to babysit. While he would protect her, as required, she could damn well be provided her own place of residency, especially if she was that much of an interest to his superiors.
Colton stormed out, walking past her without a glance. She stared at him, then back at the entrance to the building. Wasn't she supposed to sleep here?
She heard an irritated growl. Looking back towards him, she saw him motion her to follow.
"Oh for fuck's sake…" She gripped the strap of her bag, rolling her eyes.
Kalec had told her he would reach out to his vast network of magicians and weirdos, seeing if any might be able to help, or, at least, figure out how she stumbled onto this planet. After that, they could start working on how to get her back home.
His theory was that it had to do with some of the engine parts that fell off the Draenei ship, the Exodus. The charged crystals had powerful effects on the environment around them. It was not impossible to deduce that having a large collection of them, in one location, for years, might produce something akin to an inter-dimensional portal, if only briefly.
Their conversation also shed light on some other details; it wasn't a city she had been staring at her first few months here…it was a spaceship. An entire civilization of people on a floating ship, similar to the Death Star, albeit, much more benevolent. They walked around a corner and the smell of sewage smacked her in the face. She much preferred space goat land over this cesspool. She had been shoved aside, even knocked back on her ass, on more than one occasion by the rude, self-important citizens of this city.
The biggest asshole being the dog in front of her.
They finally arrived to a plain looking town home, on a generic pathway that diverted off the main street. His large hands fumbled with his tiny satchel, and he produced a key that barely fit into his hand. Somehow, he managed to unlock the door, and pushed it open. He walked in, saying nothing while tossing his cloak and bags to the side.
She remained outside, gripping the strap of her bag. He looked over his shoulder.
"Are you going to stand out there all night, human?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Firstly, you haven't invited me in. Secondly, you're a dick. Thirdly, don't you huff and puff doors down?"
He walked over, slamming the door in her face.
She was wandering the streets of the city, trying to find an inn. Her plan was to follow the noises of drunks. It had worked flawlessly.
A lowlife whistled at her as she walked up the steps, taking a swipe at her ass. She ignored him.
"What's a sweet piece of candy like you walking around alone? Need someone to warm up with?"
She shook her head, pushing the door open and stepping in. The noise was deafening. Before her were all sorts of creatures and humans, in varying degrees of drunkenness. A little person, or Gnome, as Kalec corrected her on, was dancing on the table in front of two Dwarves, who excitedly were guzzling their beer, dripping it all over their beards.
She pushed her way through the crowd, heading up to the counter. An older, balding man glanced at her, an unenthused look on his face.
"What do you want?"
She grimaced. Did she say a week? She'd be lucky if she survived one night…
"A room."
"One gold."
She dug into the little coin pouch in her pocket. She knew she had one gold. The people that wanted her brought here had sent 500 gold with Martyn. He handed her this bag, with a smile, and told her to be careful where she spent it.
She opened it up. All that was in there were some copper coins, and a few silver. She looked up at the bartender, holding the bag open. "Will this be enough?"
He looked at the bag, then looked up at her. "Are you serious?"
Her eyes widened in confusion, followed by sadness. She had been swindled…
The bartender sighed, and nodded his head towards the back room. "Look, we're short staffed tonight. If you help out in the back, I'll let you stay in one of the cots in the basement. Deal?"
She smiled, nodding her head, and dashing off behind the counter, where his wife was already screaming for her to haul more mead out of the basement…
Colton tossed in his bed, throwing a heavy arm over his head. He couldn't sleep, although he should be dead tired. He groaned, throwing the covers over and standing up.
He shouldn't have left her out there.
He pulled his boots on and threw his cloak over his shoulders. He would try the local inn up the street first. Hopefully, she had enough sense to go there.
He fell out into the rank streets of the early night. The sun had just set, and the sounds of the noisy, night crowd had picked up. He dodged between some drunks, arriving to the first inn.
"Did you see that fiery red-head? She's the new wrench the old man picked up. Pretty one too."
Yep, he was in the right place.
He walked into the inn. The smell of spilled beer and bad food assaulted his snout. He sneezed, growling as he wiped his nose. The quicker he found her, the sooner he could get back to his bed.
"Hey sweetheart, if you show me a little of what's underneath, I'll give you something you'll never forget."
He spotted her. She was still in her travel clothes, a rag tucked into her belt. Her hair was frizzed and her face was dripping in sweat. On her shoulder was a large tray of pints. She was struggling to put one in front of each of the misogynist farmhands shouting lewd comments at her.
"Are those real? Let's find out." One of them reached up, grabbing her breast. She dropped the tray and cocked her arm back, punching him in the face hard enough that he fell off his chair. His buddies laughed, clinking their glasses.
"Hey Reg! This one's a keeper!" The greedy bartender grinned in return. She had brought in twice the business, all for the promise of a place to sleep in the basement. It was terms he could definitely get used to.
Colton took a few large strides over, grabbing her wrist.
"We are leaving."
"Hey, dog…where do you think you're taking our wrench." He turned around, seeing a well-built, farmhand glaring at him. Behind him were a few of his buddies, intent on jumping in on whatever fight the leader started.
Colton sneezed again; his eyes were beginning to burn from the dense atmosphere of smoke and body odor. His patience was at its limit. He picked the lewd up by his throat, and threw him a good twenty feet across the bar, sending him crashing into the wall. His buddies stepped back, their eyes wide, not wishing to engage in a fight they had no chance in winning. He turned back to his charge, and pushed her forward, out the door.
"Look, I think I have enough coins to cover an inn. It's hard for me to believe a room costs one gold, anyways. I think that guy was being a jerk, and wanted free labor."
He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at his split soles on his boots. He groaned; that was the third pair this month. "How much do you have?"
She dug into her pant pockets, and pulled out the few coins she had. "Um…whatever this is." She pushed it towards him.
He glanced up at her. "You can't count?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, I can count. It's just…" She frowned, throwing the change on the table. "Fuck it."
She threw her bag on the floor, and sat on the small cot off to the side. Her phone's alarm went off again.
"Motherfucker!" She kicked her bag, then crouched over it, angrily pulling the brown sheet back, exposing the zippers and sports logos. Finding her phone, she picked it up, almost smashing it against the wall.
She debated, then held the button on the side instead. The beep finally stopped.
Why she was insistent on keeping her few belongings, she didn't know. The mages had told her what she didn't want to hear; she was stuck. None of her "technology" meant shit. Martyn had dumped her as soon as he saw the bag of coins drop in his hand. She was "a guest" of the city; a.k.a., a prisoner.
She sat back on the cot, her head buried in her palms. Her thoughts returned to her home; her mother's face pushed itself to the forefront of her mind…all gone, forever. Stuck in this primitive shithole, until she got herself killed, which seemed like quite an easy task. She let loose a shaky breath, tossing the phone on her bag.
"What is that?"
Her head snapped up. He was standing near her, looking at her malfunctioning phone; his wolfish, glowing eyes enlarged with questions. She returned to staring off into the space between her knees.
"Something that has no value any longer. A relic of a past or future, maybe another dimension, made of materials unknown to…here."
"Time travel and alternate realities are not unknown, Kim."
She sighed. "Where I am from, talking wolves don't exist."
He snarled. He hated it when she talked down to him, like some sort of animal. "That is from the curse, woman."
She raised her head, her eyes taking on a sudden, saddened expression. "Curses do not exist, either."
She leaned forward. "Magic…does not exist. Why do you think I was so fascinated when you fixed my hands?"
She reached for something in her bag, pulling out a strange book, offering it to him. "I do not, naturally, speak whatever language this is. One of the Draenei 'casted' something on my brain, which allows me to communicate. In terms of your local literature, I cannot read nor write. I have been trying to teach myself."
He glanced at the book, and slowly opened the cover. Bright white, thin paper was bound, by unknown means. On the pages were words he recognized, which were written next to a language and lettering he had never seen.
Her eyes swelled up. "They told me I can't return. I'm stuck. Do you have any idea what it feels like? People like you…you think I'm an idiot. My first attempt at finding a place to sleep ending with getting groped by alcoholics. How can I survive here? I don't even know the fucking currency."
A tear fell down her cheek. She harshly wiped it off her cheek as she stood up, grabbing for her bag.
"It's cool. I'll find an inn. Just tell me how much is on the table there, and how many nights it will cover for a room. I'm talking cheap; a sleeping bag on the floor."
He glanced at the few pieces of copper and a silver. It looked like the slimy mage took everything. He knew, because he was the one that handed that useless, pompous windbag the five hundred gold to give to her. He snarled, his canines becoming exposed. He walked to his side of the room, grabbing his split shoes and cloak. Looking up, he saw that she had an expression of confusion, while she gripped the handle of her pack.
"Stay here. I'll be back."
It wasn't hard to find him. The boisterous, annoying voice of Martyn echoed out of the inn. He was in the prestigious section of the city. While racism was not legal, the bar had notoriously been classified as "humans-only". It merely was not worth the effort of any of the other races to care.
"The best part is, she believed me! I took all the gold from her hand, while she smiled!" Laughter erupted from the bar.
Idiot.
He tucked himself away in one of the dark recesses off the side of the cobblestone path. It required him to focus his mind, and having an audience was always something he struggled with. He closed his eyes; the image of a scythe flashed, as a cooling breeze rushed over his body, his beastly form dissipating.
Opening his eyes, he looked down at his cream-colored hands, sticking them into the pocket of his loose overcoat, pulling out some gloves. He adjusted his clothing, tightening the straps to fit his smaller form. Worgen's clothing needed the ability to expand and contract at ease, without tearing. He looked down at his boots.
Shoes were still a problem.
He stepped out of the darkness, heading towards the entrance of the bar.
It was the middle of the night by the time he returned. He stepped into his house to find her sitting on the floor by the door, her bag in her lap. She had drifted off to sleep; dark circles were under her eyes.
Guilt washed over him. He threw the bag of money on the table, and leaned down, lifting her up. In her exhaustion, she didn't even budge, letting her bag crash on the floor. He carried her over, placing her on his bed, while pulling the sheet up. Some of her auburn hair had come loose, sprawling out over the edge of her face. His fingers brushed it back.
He glanced over to the cot in the corner. Rolling his shoulders, he picked up a spare blanket on top of his metal chest, and stretched out. Sleep finally came.