Paths Tangle
The dried leaves crunched underfoot as a lone figure strolled slowly down the beaten path, face concealed by a dark cowl. The moon was full, shining even through the thick clouds that rolled above the forest in a dark mass, being shifted by a wind that rustled through the stark branches of the trees. In the distance wolves cried out, baying their heart wrenching calls from somewhere deep in the wilderness.
Ahead, the path abruptly opened up into a sleepy little village. Even at this hour, the inn's windows glowed with warmth, merry choruses of celebration could be heard, if not a bit muffled. A twig snapped and the cloaked figure turned and stared intently in the trees, tensed, hands moving slowly to the dagger sheathed under its cloak. A pair of yellow eyes blinked open, followed by the broad nose, dulled tusks and olive skin of an Orc. He nodded once, his limp black hair falling in front of his face.
"This is the place?" The figure inquired, head nodding to the village behind them. Its feminine voice cold and hard with some unknown emotion.
The Orc grunted, baring his teeth. "They will pay." He paused, then added fiercely, "We will make them pay!" Already, she could see dark figures not unlike herself sulking through the shadows in a wide arch, creeping towards the village. The shine of cold steel glinted in the dim light. Notching an arrow, she turned to follow, silently descending down the hill.
Mur'tarek was a vile excuse of an Orc, his clan Vurglar, fought mainly among themselves when they were not raping, pillaging or plundering across Kalimdor. He kept his tribesmen in line with an iron fist and brute strength, but it would be unfair not to acknowledge his eye for strategies and battle. He had a talent of rallying the various Orc and even some of the more barbaric Troll clans under his banner and of raising spirits. But that was not why she followed him down the slopes to the first farm houses. He had promised her vengeance.
The Orcs were waiting for him at the base of the hill, wide, rotten smiles spread across hideous faces. Someone lit a torch and offered it to Mur'tarek, which he grabbed and thrust it into the air above their heads.
"For the Horde!" His booming voice cracked at her ears, along with the various war cries of the others and they watched him greedily as he tossed the torch at the first house. Pandemonium soon followed. Screams filled the night air and she watched as the few defenders that the village had groggily emerged from their beds only to be slain where they stood.
Children were crying and being torn from their mothers to be broken like ragdolls in the hands of the Orcs, the women were simply dragged away. Young and old alike were being butchered in their beds or locked in their homes as the fires quickly spread to engulf them. She could hear their tortured screams as they died, barricaded inside. A few of the Orcs had ripped barmaid's clothes to tatters and were parading her around the streets naked.
"This is the vengeance you promised me?" She growled savagely as Mur'tarek approached her side. "This! You sicken me."
He merely chuckled. "These Orcs live in the hills, where the only thing they know is the blade. The blade and revenge. Hate runs deep and surges through their veins." He eyed the frenzy, eyes twinkling in the firelight. "Let them have their fun. I let one of the villagers go. Do you think Stormwind will stand idly by as their people burn? Soon they will come."
Her mouth tasted of bile, she wanted to scream in frustration and anger. It was Horde like them that tarnished her people's name. The shame in her heart was sickening. There was no honor in this. It was foolish to think that these Orcs could give her the vengeance she craved, could offer her something more than petty village raids. Disgusted, she turned and left the scene behind her and stalked off into the woods.
Soon the carnage of the village was gone, muffled by the soft rustling of the trees and the sighing of the wind. Or so she thought. Soft whimpers of fear met her ears and through the pines she could see two terrified girls being tossed between a group of Orcs, each taking a turn at ripping at the women's clothes. Tears streamed down their dirty faces and they attempted desperately to cover themselves.
Gripping her sword under her cloak, she clenched her jaw furiously. She could not stand for this. Not any longer. She would not be like them, she would not allow innocents to be harmed, no matter their race. Stepping through the trees, she let her presence be known. The two girls saw her first, their eyes widened with terror, probably thinking she was another to join in on tormenting them.
"Stop." Her voice cracked like a whip and simultaneously four Orc heads turned to stare at her blankly.
"What you say, Troll?" One spat, still frozen in the process of tearing off one of the girl's gown. He was ugly, even by Orc standards and her keen nose could pick out his stench even over the fear that the two humans put off.
"Unhand them." She warned, her eyes flashing dangerously from underneath her hood. The other growled and shook his red-headed prize so violently that she was sure that he'd snap her in half if he continued much longer. The first laughed.
"Or what you do? I kill you easy." She barely could make out what he was saying through his guttural accent and rotted teeth, but even before he finished her blade was blazing. The dwarven forged steel sliced cleanly through the first as she simultaneously pushed the red haired girl to the ground.
The other two immediately rushed her after they got over their shock, crude axes arching past her wildly. She easily managed to sidestep them, the first axe buried itself haft-deep into the trunk of a tree. While he was sorting that out, she ran the other one straight through. He gave a strangled cry, axe toppling to the floor. Hot, dark blood washed over her hands. No time to think about that now.
Their leader charged her, shoulder ramming into her chest with the force of an ox, slamming her against the ground. Her head cracked against the hard floor and lights flashed across her vision, sword flying out of her hand.
"Now, I take you too." Putrid breath flowed over her face as he stood above her, eyes glinting with malice.
Hissing, she grabbed her boot knife and drove it into his calf and twisted, taking small pleasure as he howled. The other tore free his axe and came at her again, swinging it madly. Jerking her knife back, she kicked the first to the ground. Let him writhe, she thought as she began to battle the other. He wielded his steel as if he were hacking meat, but that didn't mean his wild strikes were any less quick.
Pain blossomed in her right arm as the axe grazed her shoulder as she failed dodging the cruel edge fast enough. Blood welled down her wrist, make her grip on the blade slippery. Furiously, she waited for an opening, dancing lightly around him. The Orc swung his blade around, intent on chopping her to pieces. Finally. Ducking, she lunged at him, her dagger plunging home into his heart.
One of the girls stared at her with wide eyes and gasped at something behind her. Spinning, she snatched up the axe and screamed. Her momentum finished the job and there was a dull thud as the Orc's head toppled to the ground.
Panting, she let the axe fall. Everywhere there was blood. Dark, black Orc's blood. Already, she could feel it soaking through her clothes. Retrieving her boot knife from the corpse and her sword laying in the mud, she sheathed both and turned to the girls. They were huddled together, shivering, both bloody and bruised, covered in dirt. They stared at her in terror.
"It's alright," she said, holding up her hands. Then she realized that they couldn't understand her. Somewhere during the battle her hood had yanked down, revealing her purplish blue skin and the crimson eyes that marked a Troll. "Please, I will not harm you." They broke out into sobs. She shook her head in frustration, running a hand through her dark hair.
Someone yelled behind her and she only managed to turn in time to see that it was a hammer that smashed against her skull.
"What is your name?" A voice yelled too loudly that might as well have been a hammer and her head a gong. She attempted to open her eyes. Bright lights flooded her vision, setting her skull on fire. Oh, her head hurt! The dizziness made her want to throw up. Waiting for the nausea to pass, she tried again, slowly.
Many faces peered up at her. Most human, though there were some others. All Alliance. That was not good. She thrashed, but the bonds that shackled her from the ceiling by her wrists held strong. Where was she?
"Your name?" Someone said in broken Orcish. She glared at the fat cleric below and spat. Repugnant Alliance aristocrats. A whip cracked and lashed against her back causing her cry out.
"I would answer the question if I were you." A tinkling voice sounded next to her in perfect Orcish. A beautiful woman was seated near her, her silvery hair shining brilliantly in the light. Baring her teeth, she hissed. Blood Elves, the only thing worse than Alliance.
"Where am I?"
"First your name." The elf smiled that little cocky smile of theirs that made irritated her to the core. The lash cracked again.
She took her time about answering, to let them know she was going about things at her own pace, no matter how many times they struck her. "Faine. Now where am I?" Her demands brought another lash and a bout of girlish giggles from the elf.
"Come now, Troll. Can't you take a gander?" She paused, a mocking smile on her pretty little face. Insufferable sop. Faine wanted to tear it off her face and tack it on her wall like a trophy. "Hmm, no? Stormwind. Where we take all Horde prisoners."
Faine couldn't suppress the chill that ran her down body in a tremor. Stormwind, the Alliance capital city, was far across the ocean in the Eastern Kingdoms. She knew she couldn't have been out that long to travel by ship; one of the human mages must of opened a portal. She cursed ever agreeing to fight for Mur'tarek. Scanning her surroundings, Faine made a mental note of everything.
It was clear she was being held in some kind of dungeon. Though it was too large to be cell. About ten humans were gathered in it, most of them regarding her with extreme disgust and turned away with a sickened expression when her crimson eyes met theirs. However, when she fixated her gaze on the slender body of a draenei she was surprised to see that the woman didn't look away. The draenei was staring intently at her with those eerie pupil-less eyes, expression unreadable. Now that she thought about it, the draenei had never once broken her silvery stare.
"So Troll, tell us what tribe you hail from." Came the twinkling voice of the elf again. Faine refused to answer and it was quiet for many long minutes. The elf nodded to whoever was holding the lash. It cracked out again and again.
Faine could feel the blood trickling down her back in a steady flow now. The stinging burn made it hard to breathe. The whip mercilessly bit into her skin again, she couldn't suppress the whimper that escaped her lips. Bringing herself to meet the cruel eyes of the elf, she still managed a defiant glare. Laughing merrily at the strong will of her prey, the elf raised her hand again to signal the painful lash to lick against her skin.
"Enough." spoke one of the humans, in their own tongue. "Clearly, this is getting nowhere. Take her back to the cells." Most of the humans had gone pale, faces ashen. The one who had spoke, begrudgingly glanced toward the elf. "You may use whatever force necessary, Jeserine, just get us answers."
Faine didn't much like the way her eyes lit up at his words, nor the smirk that tugged at her full red lips but she kept her own expression slack to hide the fact she knew their language. The Blood Elf bowed lowly to the human man and instructed the guards to take Faine away. Spitting at the woman and thrashing at her bonds, Faine attempted vainly to pull free of their grasp. She had no delusions of escaping. The troll only wanted to cause as much pain as she could to her captors.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the draenei woman raise from her position of sitting cross legged on the bench and whisper something under her breath. Suddenly, Faine's struggling began to cease and her eyes began to grow heavy. It was as if a warm blanket was winding itself around her. Shooting one last angry glance at the damn goat woman, she drifted off into a deep sleep.