A/N || Hey there, everybody. I know it's been a long time since I've updated 'Her Blessing, Her Curse'. I plan to do it eventually, as I've saved up all the chapters, including the one I was working on some time ago. Between WoW, last grueling years of high school, and now college, I haven't had much time to go back to it, but it will be finished in time. After reading this, you may notice that there will be many short stories to follow; all WoW-related. Mostly… This is because I've taken to heart my character on the RP realm I play on. The originals have been posted on our guild's forum site but I won't link that to you, because I wouldn't want to get in trouble, I'll just post them on here. Anyhow, below is the first story I ever wrote for her. In the next story, I'll give you a bit of a background on her.
This story focuses mainly on the death of her parents, and how she came to be raised by the Darkspear before their migration from Stranglethorn to Durotar. Enjoy! ;]

xXx

With a chuckle, he turned around in his chair, propping his elbow on the table and combing his fingers through his spiked, ebony hair.

"She's certainly your child," he muttered with a grin.

Turning toward her husband, she tucked her snow white hair behind her ear and smiled an adoring smile.

"Don't forget that she's yours, too."

"Of course. How could I?"

The two chuckled before she easily set the used plates into the filled water tub. Rolling up her sleeves, she dove her delicate hands into the water, rounding a wash cloth over the polished ceramic surface.

"Ryka," he muttered softly.

"Mm..?" Rykaria turned slightly, eyes on the dishes.

"I think that I should take her tomorrow . . . "

Rykaria stopped suddenly and rested her hands on the edge suddenly and rested her hands on the edge of the basin.

"Daemian . . . Truly?" A small smile crept up onto her lips and her azure eyes sparkled happily, watching as her husband nodded.

"Oh, Daemi . . . She's been dying to go. She'll love it!"

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm excited too . . . "

Rykaria giggled, stray hair falling into her eyes. "Mm . . . I can tell." She grinned, her smile lighting up the room.

Daemian watched her, his strong features softening, seemingly falling in love all over again. Blinking, Ryka watched her husband and laughed. However, it was short-lived. She turned her head and peered out the open window, her ears tipping back.

Shifting, Daemian stood slowly and peered over at her. "Go upstairs . . . "

Without a word of objection, she nodded and walked up the steps slowly, shaking the water off her hands and further drying them on her apron.

Daemian removed the dagger sheathed up inside his sleeve, opening the door of the house slowly. He stepped outside and observed the surrounding jungle, taking in the cool, damp scent of shrubbery.

---

Rykaria hummed softly, stroking the ebony hair of the young girl in the bed she sat on. She smiled fondly at her, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on the forehead of her daughter.

The girl's eyes fluttered open and she smiled slowly, squirming out of her blankets and waving with her fingers.

"Hi, Mommy . . . " she cooed in quiet Thalassian.

Rykaria laughed softly, brushing the bangs from the small girl's face. "Hello . . . " She leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose gently. "...A kiss, starry eyes, rosy cheeks, and a happy girl in the morning . . . "

The girl smiled and snuggled back into her bed, closing her eyes as sleep took hold of her once more.

---

Daemian sighed and turned, shaking his head. He wandered back into the house and gripped the door. He gasped as a dark blue, and three-fingered hand grabbed his face, yanking his head backwards. A second hand tore an ill-smoothed blade across his throat, ripping the flesh carelessly in a jagged design and shredding the elf's wind pipe. He fell to the ground with a thud, blood pouring down his front as the Troll drove the blade through his stomach. He writhed in pain and gargled, coughing blood as his attacker crouched, ripping the abdominal fissure apart, shoving his hand into the stomach of the elf and proceeding to disembowel him, throwing his entrails to one side. He stood suddenly and pounded on the door with his fist four times, the surrounding forest coming alive immediately.

A band of similar forest Trolls bolted toward the house and slid savagely to the floor, swarming Daemian's corpse like Rocs. One removed a horrid knife and grabbed a handful of the elf's hair, sawing his scalp away from his skull, while his comrades dug sharpened teeth into the tough muscles of his biceps and the soft flesh of his neck.

The steps creaked and each Troll looked up quickly, snarling as they breathed. Rykaria froze in place and stared back at them, her eyes watering as she sobbed silently. Her dire situation dawned on her and, immediately, she turned, bolting up the steps and into her daughter's room once more.

Watching her mother press her weight to the door curiously, she obeyed when she was told to hide. Wiggling under the tight fit between the bed and the floor, she snuggled the stuffed Pandaren plush and jumped as something charged the door.

After a few more bursts of weight to the door, she watched the feet of her mother give out, sending her to her back while the door shattered to pieces, raining onto the floor. She bit down on the ear of the Pandaren and watched silently.

Rykaria screamed, punching and kicking at the Trolls, her voice resonating in the ears of her daughter. The Trolls seized her, finally, one on each limb, pinning her to the floor. A fifth Troll climbed on top of her and shredded her clothing. The Troll removed his loincloth and shifted, forcing himself into the elf savagely.

As much as she wanted to, the girl couldn't turn her eyes away from her mother. She watched the Trolls take her in turns, making her mother cry, scream, and call for help. She wondered why her father wasn't there . . .

At last, one of the Trolls brought his head down swiftly and tore the side of Rykaria's throat away, chewing and swallowing the mouthful of flesh. A soundless scream was plastered on her face, as her torn jugular showered blood onto the floor in front of the bed. The girl froze as she felt the drops rain onto her face.

The Trolls swarmed again, ripping the hoop from her naval and taking large chunks of flesh from her stomach and breasts. Rykaria let her head fall to the side, looking at her trembling child under the bed. With her last bit of strength, her hand glided over the floor, fingers reaching toward her, but to no avail.

Opening her mouth, she looked frantic as her daughter cooed the word "Mommy." However, it was the last thing she heard her daughter say as a blunt stone axe fell downward, shattering the woman's skull and crushing her head.

The girl gasped and bit harder onto the ear of the Pandaren, watching as the Trolls continued eating and disemboweling, tearing so far through her abdomen that all that remained after a while was a blood-soaked section of a spinal chord, planted precariously in a set of hips.

She prayed, hard, for it to stop. She wanted them to leave, get out and just never come back. As if answering her prayers, gunshots from the newly established expedition camp resonated through the jungle. After removing the scalp of Rykaria's corpse for a prize, the Trolls scattered.

It took a long moment for her to speak, but when she did, she was cautious.

"...Mommy..?" She watched Rykaria's remains and bit her lip.

"...Mommy..? ...Momma!" She called louder.

"Poppa?!"

No answer.

"Poppa!!"

Tears streamed down the girl's blood-speckled face. Her cries grew louder and painful, weighing down on her chest. She called for her parents through her sobs, finally stressing herself so much that she fell into a coughing fit. She choked and tried to catch her breath, sniffling once before she fell unconscious, gripping her Pandaren tightly.

---

---

Moving through the carnage slowly, the young Trolless made her way upstairs. She eyed the elven corpse, frowning as her braids hung around her teal face lazily. She licked her lips and inched toward the body, kneeling down. She lifted the limp arm by its dainty wrist, turning the inner veins toward her, lowering her head and opening her mouth. She stopped suddenly and followed the elf's opposite arm with her eyes, peering at the small fingertips sticking out from beneath the bed. With her stomach growling, she crawled forward, grabbing the tiny wrist and pulling.

Surprised, the Trolless eyed the unconscious elven child before her. Her stomach ceased its protesting as an even stronger natural instinct took over. Her red-orange eyes softened and she slowly pet the child's head, stirring her.

The girl lifted her head and looked at the Trolless for a long moment before bursting into tears. Blinking, the priestess shushed her, lifting the girl and holding her comfortingly against her bosom. She stroked her hair and respectfully bowed her head to the mother's corpse, muttering something in an unfamiliar tongue before standing. She walked from the house, the girl in her arms, and approached the shoreline.

---

Sputtering and coughing erupted as the Priestess poured water onto the head of the child. She squirmed in the tub and eyed the Trolless wearily, looking to the side as she tried to take in and familiarize herself with the surrounding hut.

"D'ere, now . . . " The Trolless smiled, wiping the girl's face clean with a sponge. "You been t'rough a lot, I t'ink . . . "

The girl simply looked at her, seeming slightly confused.

"...You be undastandin' me, now..?"

She nodded slowly and wiped her nose.

"Dat's good . . . " She smiled down at the child. "Hm . . . You be havin' a name d'ere, den?"

The girl held her breath in her cheeks and closed her eyes as more water was poured onto her head. She moved her bangs carelessly from her forehead and exhaled, looking up at the Trolless again. "...Jehricka."

"Ah . . . Dat be a mighty pretty name... But I be t'inkin' dat its too grown up for such a small child . . . Chu got any name you like bein' called..?"

Confused at her question, Jehricka shook her head slowly.

"Eh . . . Dat's not'in ta be ashamed of. Lesse, now . . . I t'ink I'll jus' call you Jehri . . . You be likin' dat..?"

'Jehri' kept her childishly confused face and gave a slow nod. The Trolless just laughed. "...I be takin' care o' you now . . . Dat be okay?"

Another nod.

"Good . . . Chu be callin' me 'Mi'sa'." She gave another smile to the child and received a very weak and uncertain one in return . . . But it made the Trolless's grow even brighter. She lowered a hand and gave Jehri's head a loving pet. Hopefully, she could do right with this child.