Ascension (Warrior)
This was no mere artistry.
The blades dug deep into her flesh, the needles bit her skin and the ink felt both warm and cold when they poured it. They were using at least two techniques here. One knit an inked thread in her wounds while another simply filled the gashes with ink and paint. Both worked together on every part of her naked back. When it dried, they would do the front and cover her in writing and painting, adorning her with witnesses of her victories, devotions to the great spirits of the world and many others things beside. Such was the way. When a warrior attained rank and renown, proving herself to be as strong or stronger than magic and iron, having proven herself in battles uncounted, she could petition to ascend. The procedure could be bought, of course, but not by gold. To obtain the proper inks, one had to supply the Apothecaries and the inscribers with raw materials who could only be taken by fighting. Indeed, it was traditional at least one of the tinctures used to be entirely personalized, the mixture of the warrior's prey symbolizing her past and future victories.
Falra's ink had been milled from the herbs of Felwood, from demon blood burning bright, from flowers of Moonglade freely given and from raw essences of light and life. The warrioress had dedicated her life to lead her pack in service to the Cenarion Circle and the druids had been more than happy to repay her service with favor. She had bled in the tainted forests to atone for past sins and she had been happy for the chance as she was happy with the rank she had attained. To be here this day was painful but it was more than she could have ever dreamed.
The voice of the shamans lulled her to near-sleep while the tattoo artists did their work.
"Falra. Born of Clan Warsong. You took your Trials after Thrall restored us to our ancient heritage. You fought for the freedom of our brothers and sisters taken by the Alliance. You fought for the Horde before it was again. Without fear, you served and many of the thugs and cutthroats of the cowardly Alteraci you dispatched as they tried to waylay us in the mountain passes. Glory in the victory of your youth, warrioress for they were the foreseeing."
"Falra, Born of Clan Warsong. You fought at the side of Hellscream when the trees were full of shadows. You fought against arrows and glaive and the spirits of the forests when they were roused to action. No warning were you given and yet you fought on to protect the retreat of the peons of your clans. You saw the demigod with the crown of antlers, the wooden hands and the power of nature and you felt awe not fear. Be honored forevermore for you are of those who refused to drink of corrupt blood and when Grom strayed again from the rightful path you stayed pure and had no party in the demigod's murder. Flight was wise in that occasion and from you and those like you we learned of the treachery of the Warsong."
"Falra, who took the name Lonesnarl, renouncing kith and kin when they fell from grace. After the battle of Mount Hyjal when the tree burned away the corruption of the Legion and many lay dead on sacred slopes you refused to put down your weapons. You rose in the ranks of your pack and pledged them to the service of those your clan had so wronged. You were the blade of the Cenarion Circle and one of the many emissaries of their will. You fought in the forest not against the Kal'Dorei but for them and even in the forest of Felwood you remained pure of corruption. Know that you are pure and your purity is awesome to behold. Your pack named itself the Lonesnarls and they were as family, united in common purpose and faithful to the cause they have chosen. Much honor you have brought to the Horde and much honor you brought to yourself. Stand proud warrioress and let the world know of your trophies."
"Naraxis of the Nathrezim fell and foul master of the shadows. Thassiran the Fallen defiler of ten thousand years. Xiulmirth the Inquisitor, tormenter of dreams. Those and many others you slew in your war. You became known and of Falra Lonesnarl the foe learned to flee the approach. You hunted them to their lair and proved them they couldn't overcome the fury of the Horde. The skulls of champions and monsters are your throne queen of the battlefield and bride of war."
This was no mere artistry but it was artistry nonetheless. The design was intricate. On her green skin stood a representation of herself standing on the hill of her slain foes. Around her were the skulls of her greatest prey, horned and leering impotently. Behind her was the sun in splendor and in the light the names of the great elements and the great spirits she had honored all her life. Even if it were but a mundane tattoo it would have been impressive but it was not mundane. Magic was in the pattern, magic was in the ink. Old sorceries of growing, of shielding of strengthening, enabling her to push beyond the limits of mortality.
It was dangerous of course. If her body proved too weak for the ink and the patterns she would die from the reaction. There was a reason this procedure was reserved to veterans, after all.
"The spirits look upon you with favor Falra Lonesnarl. They see your bravery and are awed. Broxigar the Red who was taken alive by Father Wolf to battle at his side in eternal war smiles upon you and his blessing is upon your brow.
Arise Warrior of the Horde and embrace your new rank. Your victories are there for all to see. May they give your strength for future battles. Your Warchief's heart surges with pride at the mention of your name. He opens the gate of his house for you and accept your renewed oaths.
Rise Commander Falra Lonesnarl. Chieftain of the Horde."
Her back hurt when she rose from the ground. She felt pain but also the sensation of light, the booming of life, the cold insinuation of shadow and the purifying touch of the arcane. The blood of her foes, of the foes of all creation had been transmuted by her victory and served her now. Other victories would be inscribed on her skin, other glyphs of strength and endurance. She would fight again and again and again, leading the armies of the Horde to victory on victory until the world was safe for her kin and all who lived in.
This was her oaths to Broxigar who had been taken at the gates of Ahn'Quiraj and had never tasted death, but entered while alive in the presence of the spirits and even now served as totem for all righteous warrior. This was her oath to Fenris-Ur the Bloody Wolf of Thunder who was the patron of all wars and all fight. This was her oath to the Horde, may it live and be prosperous. And there was another promise, stronger even than wishes of victory.
She would never forsake honor, no matter how dire the battle.