I realised when I started this story, I forgot the disclaimer. So here it is.
I own nothing except my characters. Azeroth is a fictional world created and owned by Blizzard entertainment.
Nights in the swamplands were bitterly cold, damp and all around miserable. Particularly when the only source of warmth was a ragged, filthy set of clothing and the reeking body warmth of fellow prisoners. A twisted, thick barred holding cell was set up on the edge of the camp. From deeper within the settlement, laughter and harsh voices could be heard, the flickering of a burning fire drawing envious and longing glances from the souls trapped within.
The caged group of malnourished humans huddled together, teeth chattering and shivering violently. Despair hung heavy around them, heads were bowed in submission, lips and fingers blue tinged from the fridge air, but none spoke out loud. To do so would draw the attention of their cruel masters, and none wanted such a thing.
In one far corner of the cage, a lone human female curled tighter into herself. Stringy matted hair fell around a now gaunt face and she clenched her teeth tightly together to avoid chattering her jaw. One hand closed around a pendant on her neck and the other wrapped around her knees that she'd pulled to her chest. Her position was protective, eyes occasionally darting about.
"Laila...?"
At the barley whispered name, no louder than a breath, she jumped, heart catching in her throat. Laila's eyes fell onto a familiar figure, Macy...a human girl like her that had moved from the huddled pack and crouched next to her. Macy gently touched Laila's shoulder. She didn't smile or try to reassure her, hopelessness had long caught up with them all, "Come join us...its not much, but its some warmth."
Laila shook her head in denial, clenching herself into a tighter ball. Macy looked down at the small girl in sympathy before sitting next to her. Both women had been captured by the band of raiders that now held them, along with most of the other prisoners. Azaroth was not a kind place at the best of time, constantly in turmoil and violence. Common folk like Macy were often victims of that cruel reality.
Duskwood was supposed to be safe from outside attacks, patrolled by the Alliance forces. But sneaky, careful bands like the one that had captured them got through sometimes. The group of slavers had been careful, spending weeks in the thick forest, picking off lone travelers and small groups till they'd felt they had a worthy load. Then they'd moved on. Months had gone by as they travelled, time had lost meaning. Macy hadn't known where they were going, the landscape changing from familiar forests, to bleached deserts and now a dripping, eerie swamp.
Some had held out hope of rescue. Even she had for some time. Surely someone would noticed their disappearance, send soldiers to save them. But no one came. The raiding group was clever, staying off main roads, taking time to cover their tracks. It was a well planned, well executed theft. And any defiance or attempts to escape by the prisoners was met with harsh penalty.
'No...' Macy thought to herself, shivering in the night, 'Not prisoners...prisoners are treated with some dignity...we are but trade goods to them...less then slaves...less then animals...' Everyone had learned the cruelty and heartlessness their twisted captors possessed. Poor Laila had learned in an even more brutish and sadistic way.
Laila felt Macy's dirt coated skin brushed her shoulder and the two sat in silence, listening to the unfamiliar language of their captures in the background. A sharp pain ripped down her body, a clenching cramp in her belly. She gritted her teeth, determined not to scream. The pain forced her to lower her knees from her chest, reveling her swollen bloated belly.
Another stab of pain and Laila's head jerked back, hitting the bars of the prison. She would not scream...could not scream...even as the child that had grown inside her on this terrible journey struggled to break free. Macy's eyes widened and she clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her shock at realizing Laila was in labor.
The pregnancy had not been a willing one for the young girl. Near the beginning of the journey, the slavers had loudly celebrated their success, drinking and feasting long into the night as their victims cowered in the cage. Within the raiding group were three Blood Elves males. That night, one of them had drunkenly stumbled to their prison and attempted to drag Macy away into the night. Laila had, in an act of braver that still left Macy breathless, interfered...and had paid the price for it when she was dumped back into the cell in the morning, bruised, blooded and clutching torn clothing to her body.
Another gut clenching cramp and Laila's eyes squeezed shut. 'Light help me! It hurts so much!'
Macy swallowed her panic, looking over through the darkness to the camp of their masters. None noticed Laila's distress, they felt safe in this area and cared nothing for their captives. Her hand shook, how was she supposed to deliver a baby! Breathing in deeply, she looked over at her fellow prisoners. None came forward to help, their spirits were long since broken. Swallowing hard, she carefully bend Laila's legs and crouched at her feet, whispering barley heard encouragement,
"Push...Laila...push...come on...you can do it..."
Tears pooled in her eyes as the contractions got worst. The hushed words of her companion were blurred from the pain, but Laila bared down and felt a slick warmth slip from her loins. The tiny cry of the newborn infant cut through the air briefly. Macy almost yelp in response before whiplashed fear cleared her mind. Quickly, she gathered up the tiny child and placed a hand over its mouth, muffling the sounds while desperately trying not to smother the babe. Almost like the newborn sensed the urgency, it latched onto Macy's finger, quieting to a soft gurgle as it suckled hungrily.
Laila panted softly in the aftermath of the birth. Despite the violated nature of her pregnancy, Laila had found herself growing to love the life growing inside her over the months. She'd felt her child's first heartbeat, rubbed her belly as it had kicked in defiance and wept silent tears when she realized the tiny life would never be allowed to grow to maturity. Half breed children were shunned and mocked in society. Within the walls of Stormwind and the ranks of the Alliance, such prejudices were less, but undoubtedly still existed. But to the Elf that had forced himself on her...a mixed-blood baby would never be permitted. Which only served to make Laila's heart ache more.
"M-Macy...please...let me..." She reached out blindly, motherly instinct demanding she be allowed to hold her child, if only for a few moments. Macy blinked in surprise, arms trembling as she wiped away the still warm residue of the infants birth before gently passing the tiny body to her friend,
"A girl Laila...you have a daughter..." Tears filled the new mother's eyes as she held the wrinkled babe. Macy gathered up a small section of her dingy dress and torn off a section, offering it to Laila as a wrap for the squirming child. Small and stunned already from improper nourishment during her growth in the womb, Laila's little girl still kicked with strong legs. Carefully sitting up and winding the scrap cloth around the naked girl, Laila pushed aside her torn shirt and lifted her baby to nurse greedily at her breast.
Macy looked around quickly. The birth had gone unnoticed by the slavers. A small miracle indeed. Swallowing again, she settled beside Laila, watching in the gloom as she brushed a shaking finger over her daughters mucus coated cheek. She gave her friend a while to observe and care for the newborn before she spoke in a pitiful whisper, "They won't let her live...the only reason they let you live is because you still have value...a baby doesn't...especially..."
Laila choked on a sob, doubling over to hold her newborn daughter closer, the horrid truth that she'd always known now being a reality. Macy wrapped an arm around her, trying to offer any shred of comfort. Come morning...they'd all be forced to watch the baby be murdered, once their captors realised Laila had given birth to a half breed.
It wasn't fair! This innocent soul didn't ask to be created, but her daughter would be killed simply for existing, for having breathed life into her lungs! Laila rocked back and forth in sorrow, her motherly love and need to protect her child raging within her, 'Gods of Light...please hear me. Save my child...let her live...Take my soul if you must...but please...let her live...' It was the same prayer she'd repeated day after day when she'd realized she was with child. No answer had come yet and Laila didn't believe one would come now, but still she prayed.
"Will...you name her...?" Macy mourned with her friend, but knew there was nothing she could do. All of them were weak from poor living conditions and meager food rations. None were warriors or magic users, no fighters existed in this pen. Trying to fight back only lead to pain and blood, they were no match for the trained ranks of the slavers. Laila didn't answer, too inward drawn to hear.
Hours passed by. Slowly, as though to delay the inevitable, the sun crept into the sun, illuminating the somber landscape of the swamp with dreary light. Laila had stopped crying hours ago, but her chest still twisted in agony. Such a small thing, her beautiful daughter. And so well behaved, sleeping peacefully and quiet. In the morning light, she could now see the feather soft fluff of silver-white hair and tiny pointed ears. Loyal Macy had stayed awake with her all night, whispering soft comfort and hugging her shoulders.
Reckoning hour had come. The camp of slavers woke, walking about and speaking in their strange, foreign tongue. Laila curled into the corner of the cage, trying to hide behind the other prisoners, trying desperately to give her baby girl just a few more moments of life. As the hulking body of an Orc lumbered towards the wheeled cage, beady eyes looked over the cowering humans.
Gogron flexed his jaw, and snarled at the caged small-teeth, grinning when they all cringed away. Weaklings and cowards, but slaves were always valuable. Stonard would pay a good price for them, making this long journey worthwhile. The muscle bound warrior started to move away...then paused at the curled form of the female small-tooth in the back of the slaves. A pig like nose twitched and a ferocious smile crossed his terrible face before he bellowed over his shoulder in grating Orchish.
Laila choked in response to the sounds of light footsteps coming towards the cage. She understood nothing said by the captors, but the fat green finger pointed to her and the head of the slender white haired Blood Elf turned to her, glowing emerald eyes brimming with hatred before his voice barked back to his companion. The locked door to the cell rattled as the chain was loosened. Her fellow humans pressed against the sides as the hulking Orc ducked inside and reached out to roughly grab her arm hard enough to feel the bone bend, hauling her to her feet. Despite the massive size difference, Laila fought as she was dragged out, twisting her body to try and protect her now crying daughter while screaming in despair,
"NO! Please no! It's not her fault! She's innocent! Leave her be! Please!" Macy screamed and jumped at the Orc, trying desperately to help the struggling mother. A careless backhand swipe from the monster sent her reeling away even as Laila was thrown to the boggy, slim coated ground before the Elf that had demanded her. The cage door slammed shut and Macy crawled to the door, weeping as she watched her friend double over, shielding her baby with her own body.
Laila shook with terror, clutching at her wailing daughter and looked up at the depraved face of the man that would murder her baby girl. Tears flowed down her face and her voice trembled, "Please...please don't...she doesn't deserve this...please..." Her pleas fell on deaf ears as she was yanked up by her hair. She cried in pain, but it was almost instantly forgotten as the tiny bundle clutched in her arms was wrenched away, "No!"
The months spent bowing to the mercy of the slavers was forgotten as Laila's 'angry mother' instinct roared to life. She turned feral. Broken nails clawed at her enemy, feet and knees struck at any part, bellows of rage erupted from her throat. Surprised by the sudden assault, the Elf stumbled, the wailing baby he'd grabbed falling from his arms as he moved to block the attack of the human, a hand grabbing a dagger from his belt.
Chaos exploded from the fog thicken air! War cries suddenly filled the air as new bodies leapt into the camp. An ambush! From the gloom, a new group plowed into the slavers, weapon swinging, shields clashing and curses flying. One such warrior was a broad shouldered blue, goat legged behemoth that crashed a two-handed hammer into the chest of a charging Troll, shattering ribs and dropping the threat.
Khin'o spun in place, luminous eyes surveying the battle, blood thrumming in delight. His party had been tracking and scouting this band of ruffians for days, shortly after they'd entered the Swamp of Sorrows, following close behind and preparing to strike. Slavers were despised by the Dranei male and he relished in the death cries splitting the air, even if his training taught him to value life. He was still a warrior and this was a battle for justice.
"Form up Brothers and Sisters! Drive them back! Free the prisoners! For the LIGHT!" Howls of victory filled the dingy swamp as the villains struggled to react the sudden assault. Fireballs were hurled through the air. Burning light spells seared enemies and healed allies. Blades clashed and arrows whizzed. The battle had begun.
Khin'o galloped forward, war-hammer drawn back and ready to crush any in his path. Which came in the form of a massive Orc swinging a jagged axe. He ducked, feeling the whistle of air above his head. A fraction of a second longer and the Paladin would have no head! He retaliated with a sideway arc, hoping to knock his opponent off balance. The two weapons crashed together like thunder and his arms shook from the impact. 'Light, this beast is strong!'
"I'll wear your blood as my war paint, Outsider!" Gogron bellowed in rage. The attack was unexpected and Gogron knew half his allies were likely already dead, taken by surprised after so many weeks of inactivity. He'd seen the way the blue skinned alien had commanded the attackers. If he was to die here, he would die with honor and in battle, taking the leader of this war party with him. He drew back and struck again, slamming his shoulder into the plate wearing Dranei.
His enemy stumbled and the Orc sliced his axe into the shoulder pad. The jagged blade didn't cut through, the heavy armor stopping the killing blow, but the Paladin was dropped to his knees, blue blood leaking from the wound and a cry of agony exiting his maw. Gogron lifted his blade high above his head, prepared to finish his foe. A brilliant explosion of light filled the air and a hammer-like shape crashed onto the Orc's head. His head spun and Gogron wobbled back and forth.
As Khin'o stumbled to his feet, clutching at his now useless shoulder, an ear shattering BOOM! sounded and the stunned Orc's head burst apart. From behind him, the stocky form of a Dwarf moseyed up like he was walking through a park, not in the middle of a dangerous warfare, shouldering a funnel ended rifle. Brazmal angled his head towards the Dranei, giving him a wry grin, "Ah believe that'd be three that ye owe me, eh Fearless Leader?"
The large warrior managed a small smile back, "Aye...I suppose it does. My thanks, Braz." His companion chuckled as he reloaded his gun with another deadly shot of lead, "Well...once ye pay up with those pints ye've been promising, we be even."
A surge of dark energy made the Paladin's head snap around. Brazmal growled beside him, grumbling lowly in his native tongue. Before him was a Blood Elf with Fell energy encircling his body. He stood near the caged prisoners and extended out a hand towards them. White and green tendrils were ripped from the caged humans and agonizing screams filled the air as the Warlock sucked life essences from them. Rage filled the Paladin as he felt some of their souls wither and fade. All the other prisoners passed out from the shock of having their energy ripped away. A swirling dark portal appeared and a huge, winged Demon emerged, eyes aglow with power.
Khin'o gripped his hammer tighter, pushing back the pain in his shoulder. Innocent lives lost, his people hadn't gotten to them in time. Now his blood screamed for vengeance to be delivered, "Shall we, old friend?" Brazmal harrumphed in response, his gruff voice coming out grumpy as always, "If ye need to ask, ye've been whacked in the head too many times." The two battle hardened warriors roared in unison and barrelled forward, thirsty for blood.
The aftermath of battle was different every time he experienced it. As Khin'o limped among the broken bodies of the dead Horde slavers, he felt the remorse that always followed. His people understood the ravages of war and darkness better than most, but it didn't stop him from mourning for the lost. There had been minimal injuries to his party and their healer had dealt with most of them. He'd waved off the human Priest worry, ordering him to see to the mistreated victums.
Not all of the prisoners were dead by the Warlocks magic, but all were severely weakened. Khin'o thanked the Light for that. It meant this battle hadn't been a complete loss. Of the two dozen prisoners, only 8 were dead. Tactics told him those were acceptable losses, his heart denied that. Life was a precious thing and should never be squandered, especially on the foulness of the Fell. The Blood Elf had put up a good fight with his Demon's, summoning a fierce Hellhound when his Fiend had failed to kill him. The bite on his leg burned with each step, but he ignored the pain.
His second started towards him, a grim look on his face. Beside the grizzled Dwarf trotted a shaggy, scarred ebony wolf with blood still coating its teeth. The Dranei nodded to his friend, "Report, Brazmal."
"Ever'ones mostly alive and Rylie's get'ing the group healed up best she can. Survivor's are real weak though, damn Lock almost killed 'em all. Got the mounts loaded and ready ta move. We need ta be getting on...not safe ta linger long here." Khin'o nodded in agreement, "Yes...gather up the survivors and fallen. The dead deserve their last rites. Lets make haste to Marshtide Watc...Ehh?"
His command ended in a confused grunt when Brazmal's wolf companion sudden pricked up its ears and dashed from the Hunter's side. Braz barked out a harsh order, "Cantor! Heal boy!" A loyal, well trained pet, the large canine listened instantly, skidding to a halt, but his dark eye still focused on the dead body before it. Khin'o maneuvered over the uneven ground, picking up his pace when he heard a small cry.
Approaching the face down human, the Dranei carefully rolled over the body. A female with a dagger shoved deep in her chest, fresh blood coating her body. Her soul had long left, no power of the Light could bring her back. That wasn't what Khin'o focused on. Rather, he gently gathered up the tiny, crying baby that had been pinned beneath her. Beside him, Braz hummed in sympathy, "Poor wee thing...barely born and already deat' follows. Born under a cursed star." He crouched with the Paladin, looking over the now lifeless body, "Must be her mum..."
Khin'o nodded, "Aye...seems she tried to protect her child and paid with her life. A brave soul." Gently, he reached out and closed the human's eyes, "Light be with you."
Having two children of his own, Khin'o knew well how to hold a newborn. Gathering the whimpering child closer, he stood and looked around. So young and already stripped of a parent, the world was so cruel at times. As he looked down at the human women, he noticed a pendant around her neck. Shifting, he removed the necklace. There was a marking on the round bauble, but Khin'o paid it little mind. This babe hadn't even gotten to know her mother, at least now, she would have something of hers.
Brazmal grunted as the two looked over the babe, "The wee one be having a hard life ahead...mixed-blood ain't easily accepted." Khin'o tilted his head, looking closer at the child, now seeing what his sharp eyed friend had already. So...not one parent gone, but two...an orphan alone in a harsh world. He hummed to himself, "The Light spared this one, granting her survival even in this horrid place. I sense a great destiny for her."
Brazmal snorted in derision, "Ye sense a great destiny for ever'one ye meet, don't be daft." Still, the world weary Dwarf looked up at the tiny bundle in the alien's arms, feeling a mote of sympathy for the babe, "Will ye care for the wee one then? She not be hav'ing any family now."
As though the universe sought to mock the burly Dwarf's words, a agonising wail erupted into the air. Khin'o and Braz both had the same thought of 'BANSHEE'!, before whirling towards the sound. Stumbling and half crawling over the soggy ground, Macy struggled against the cloth armored human female trying to help her, "Miss! Miss! Please! Stop struggling! Your spirit is terribly weak right now! You need to rest!"
"Let go of me! Laila! Laila! Is she alright!? Laila!" Rylie, the Priest that Brazmal had spoke of earlier, wrapped her arms around the frantic girl in a bear hug. Macy had blacked out when the Blood Elf had painfully ripped out her soul essences. Her last memory was watching her brave, selfless friend throw herself at the Elf to protect her child's life. Upon waking, even with the kind face of the Priest hovering above her, Macy fought to her stand. Her body ached and her head spun with dizziness. Her strength was gone and the restraint of Rylie effectively subdue her, even as she screamed out loud.
Not seeing a threat, but a panicked survivor, Khin'o quickly made his way to the two women as Braz cursed foully behind him, "Peace young one, lower your voice. This place is not safe, you risk us all." He put more force and authority behind his voice than he wanted to when addressing a traumatised girl, but it was needed. Macy calmed to a whimper, sinking to the ground while Rylie supported her frail form. Her eye stared at the fallen body of Laila even as tears dropped from her eyes,
"No...nononono...Laila...Gods..." Macy buried her face against Rylie's shoulder, despair taking her as she spoke in choking sobs, "Sh-she saved me...she...was...s-so br-brave an-and strong...Laila..."
With a haze head and shaking limbs, Macy reeled and fought to think straight. It was hard, but she finally registered a baby crying and blurrily managed to focus on the tiny bundle held in the kneeling Khin'o's arms, "Sh-she's alive...? Laila's daughter...?" The Dranei angled the whimpering newborn towards the human girl with a solemn face.
"Yes young one, the babe lives. Your dear friend protected her to the last." Macy sniffled. Her brief fight to consciousness was failing and darkness danced at the edges of her vision. But she had to speak, "Do-don't hurt her...the baby...Lai-Laila just...just w-wanted her t-to live...i-its not her fault...she...she's not to blame...please...d-don't..."
Khin'o jolted but quickly reassured her, "No, young one, no. Never. None will harm this child, you have my word. Rest now...you both are safe." He could understand the young girls fears, but as a loyal follower of the Light, such an act was incomprehensible to him. Reassured and unable to stay awake, Macy slumped forward, supported by the healer. Khin'o nodded to Rylie as she gathered her up, moving back towards the loaded mounts. Behind him, Brazmal appear, respectfully carrying Laila's body before grunting to his commander,
"We be lucky her screeching didn't bring all o' Stonard down on us." If Khin'o didn't know his grouchy friend so well, the comment may have sounded heartless and cold, but the elder warrior knew it was just Braz's way of hiding his discomfort and uneasiness of the situation. His second wasn't one for warm, cuddly hugs or giving calming consultations, more comfortable in the wilds with the animals he tamed or roaring on the battlefield, with blood and violence abound. But the Dwarf still had a heart and was undoubtedly glad the tiny mixed blood had someone to care for her.
"The Light guides us all along different paths, my friend. Sometimes the path we must walk is unclear and twisted, but we still must walk it." As Khin'o carefully climbed onto the large draft horse, Brazmal snarked back,
"The Light ain't get'ing us to Mashwatch any faster...next time we be hiring a Mage to portal us around."