This is a series of short-stories set in the world of 'WoW,' in case you couldn't tell from the summary. Most of them will be based off of canon lore or be centered around characters I play, or others' characters whom I have been given permission to write for. Enjoy and please review. If I get anything wrong lore-wise, do tell me (kindly). I want to be as accurate as possible, especially if I'm going to be squeezing my own original people into that world.
Strangely, the clouds were not moving.
The young worgen blinked, repeatedly, as she realized this. The clouds were dark and ominous, and an instinctual sense deep within her told her that they should be traveling in whatever direction in rushes of wind and perhaps rain, but, they were not. They stood still, as if someone had painted them with such detail and vision it was enough to trick even the wisest eyes.
She blinked again and glanced about just to remind herself of her grip on reality. It was as she did this it hit her. She was dreaming.
She woke.
She was not much of one for dream interpretations, however, she couldn't help but wonder what that dream could have possibly meant. Was it a nightmare? Was she losing her mind?
"'Sis," said a voice. "Heb'!"
She sat up in bed. "Whaaat," she hated how her voice rasped. It was something she would have to deal with. Her brother, Paddarick, had learned how to shapeshift from worgen to human and back with seeming ease. She, Hebellina, was another story. They were the Tebbin siblings. Once upon a simpler time, they were the notorious child duo of Tempest's Reach, always up to no good in the eyes of adults. Now they were little more than domesticated animals on two legs, sometimes four. Hebellina found that darkly humorous. She had always aspired to be a hunter, a master of beasts. The first creature she ever tamed? Herself.
Her eyes were crusty and heavy. She felt sore. How she had grown to hate her life in such a short time.
Well, she had a purebred mastiff. Ranaldo, loyal and true. She didn't count him as a beast, never had, though she'd been told by the local lead hunter that he was technically a hunting companion. Hadn't she practiced shooting deer as a youthful girl with Ranaldo in tow? She had raised him from a pup and it was a wonder to her that he had relearned how to recognize her in worgen form. Her scent must be so different. Never doubt a dog...
"'Tis morn," Paddarick said quickly. Hebellina swung her legs to the side of the bed. It was a cot, more like, and it was greatly uncomfortable. She couldn't find it in her to complain the night previous, she was too exhausted then, from all of the work. Being not entirely human any longer, she and her sibling had had to perform many tasks the past few weeks for numerous individuals and endure a certain brand of scorn from half of them, to prove their humanity. The entire time with the threat of Gilnean culture being annihilated by the Forsaken hanging over their heads...
Hebellina, as always, brushed away the unwanted thoughts by thinking of a topic more humorous. It was a morbid humor, as it should be in times like these. She found it slightly saddening that the only man to have ever entered her sleeping quarters in her life was her brother. She suspected any sane man would rather run in fear than court her after all which had happened. She snarked, "No, it's dusk."
"Enough of that! No time for banter," Paddarick cut her off quickly. "The elvish ships are here."
Hebellina froze. She'd thought they'd never arrive. Drowning that thought—it wasn't proper gratitude—she got to her clawed feet and straightened. "Forgive me for wastin' time," her brother nodded. They knew each-other better than anyone else in the worlds, and the mutual agreement went unspoken. They'd both do their absolute best, from thereon. In a new land. They were worgen, yes, but in the end they were primarily human.
Hebellina merely hoped that the elves would not stare as blatantly as the whole of Gilneas did.