10 - Dreams or Memories

I stood behind a man who was sitting in a dimly lit room, one candle beside him on a small cabinet. He seemed to be busy, concentrating on something. I moved forward a little and saw another figure lying down on a bed to the man's right. It was covered in a soft blanket. Straining for a better look I caught a glimpse of chestnut coloured hair on the pillow before my attention was drawn back to the man.

Tentatively, I continued forward and glanced over his shoulder. I smelled his scent. It was familiar. I liked it. In his lap was a book in which he reverently sketched a face; a beautiful face. Her face. I noticed some words beside the sketch...

Even amidst my private thoughts, dare I admit this woman intrigues me? Again I am in denial, for it is so much more than intrigue which she stirs within me. But, I must put aside such folly, those days are gone and more important matters lie ahead.

Sweet Elune! And there - in less time than it takes to blink, I negate such words of wisdom. I am inexorably drawn to her. I feel an attraction like no other but regrettably, I know I must set it aside. Perhaps one day, when things are more settled and secure within Azeroth, I may be permitted to know her...

Suddenly, he snapped the book shut. Both he and the figure on the bed wavered before my eyes, becoming faint, transparent. Then another image materialised before me.

We were aboard a vessel – a gunship judging by the weaponry and ammunition stacked round the deck.

This time I was in front of the same man. He was tall and looked quite strong unless that was an illusion owed to the armoured leather collar-guard he wore which sat atop his shoulders and chest. He had silver hair and piercing eyes the colour of titanium steel. I thought he was quite a handsome man, as men go; strong jaw, a full mouth, a somewhat regal nose. He appeared concerned about something however, distraught even. His brow furrowed as he looked towards the bow of the ship.

I followed his line of sight and I found a woman on the deck. Her, again. She stood, staring straight ahead, her focus on the dark skies; unwavering. The winds whipped her cloak around her and there was an air of resilient determination in her posture.

I glanced back at the man. He had been joined by another male. This one was huge, and blue! With horns! My initial surprise then softened as I felt a warm familiarity start to wash over me. I knew him! I knew him well, yet his name escaped me. The silver-haired man knew him too, I could sense it. They were friends. Good friends. Once again the images faded and opened to another.

The man now sat beside the woman again as she lay on a bed, a sheet barely covering her breasts. There were markings on her skin, green tattoos that fluctuated and flared. The man held her hand, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. His eyes were filled with both sorrow and relief as he gazed upon her face...

More mist covered my vision then it cleared to a great battle. Suddenly I saw all sorts of mayhem. The vision was blurred for the most part but I could see the man. He was commanding spell weavers – mages, warlocks, shamans - all around him. He cast huge shields over the people who were fighting and he fired frost and arcane bolts upon the enemy – an enormous fiery red demon. The man was learned and powerful I could feel an exorbitant intelligence emanating from him.

His head turned sharply as his eyes searched for something or someone amid all the bodies. I should have known! The woman. She was now hovering in the air, a blinding light pouring from her.

I could feel his panic, his concern ... his love for her!

Then once more the images vanished in cloudy swirls of water and mist…

As my consciousness hurtled towards reality, the last thing I remembered was a small round face and what I thought was the sound of a baby's cry.

I was catapulted into wakefulness and at first my surroundings were unfamiliar and alarming. I flapped my wings to steady myself. After a few moments my awareness piqued and I found myself roosting close to where Lunk slept at the back of some covered benches and tables. He turned over in his makeshift bunk, pulling most of his blanket over to one side which left his back exposed. With a grunt, he broke wind.

"Ach, fur goodness sake!" a shrill female voice expostulated. I looked across and saw a female dwarf holding a dustpan loaded with what looked liked small rocks. She was glaring at Lunk's back. "He's prootin' again! Ah swear, if he dis it yin mair time, ah'm gonna shove these mithril nuggets right up his..."

"Evonice! That'll be enough!" A dark grey skinned dwarf scolded. He was naked from the waist up, holding a smithing hammer, so it was easy to assume he was the blacksmith. He was scowling at the female, who glowered just as hotly back.

"Well! He stinks!" Evonice protested.

The blacksmith grunted and rolled his shoulders. "Weel, maybe it's yer cookin' that dis it!" I could swear I saw him smirking under his black beard.

"Whit ye tryin' tae say, Burni'?" she retaliated.

"Stop ca'in' me that!" he said, clearly disgruntled.

"Weel, dinnae be insultin' my culinary skills, or ye'll no be getting' ony dessert the night!" she sniggered and assumed a haughty posture.

Again the blacksmith grunted and this time shambled to the back of the benches where we were located. "Ah swear, there's mair hot air comes oot hur mooth th'n dis his backside," he grumbled. I watched him jump slightly as she responded loudly.

"At least ma hot air is fragrant, honey buns!"

The grey skinned dwarf noticeably cringed at her term of endearment. I took it from his reaction he now preferred being called Burni'. He leaned down and nudged Lunk. "Up wi' ye!"

Lunk groaned then once more let the wind go free. I could empathise with Evonice after that one. The female dwarf huffed, grumbled under her breath then proceeded to carry on with tidying up around the benches and tables at the front of the covered area.

"C'mon lad, up ye git!" the blacksmith persisted.

Another groan and Lunk opened his eyes. He slowly sat up, stretching and yawning as if he had slept for decades. I shuddered when I heard his bones cracking and popping as he rounded his shoulders and neck. His hooded lids opened one at a time, revealing surprisingly bright eyes for one just surfacing from sleep. "Good morning, raven," he said and smiled, his bottom tusks almost lost in the facial exercise.

"Huh! Speaks tae the ruddy burd furst, yit he slept in ma premises!"

Lunk lowered his head for a moment as his smile drooped instantly at the dwarf's words. He looked ashamed. "Sorry, Master Burninate. Thank you, for letting me sleep here, Lunk really appreciates it."

The dwarf was then the one who looked repentant. He scuffed his boot in the dirt then shrugged. "Ach, ah'm only botherin' ye lad. Yer welcome ony time."

The ogre managed what resembled a smile and heaved his body upright. He dutifully folded the blanket he had used and placed it on a low serving shelf of the makeshift storage nearby. I would miss his company, he was a very amiable man with a big heart. His small eyes turned to me, his face a little sad. "So you leaving now?" he asked me.

"I have to, Lunk. Something Muattai said rings true to me. I must find my way home." I conveyed in my thoughts.

He nodded and sat down on one of the benches. It protested under his weight, creaking loudly, but it was sturdy enough to hold him. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his heavy set knees. "So where is home?" he asked. From the side, I saw Master Burninate watching us. Judging by his expression, he did not appear to consider the ogre speaking to a raven anything out of the ordinary. I guessed the denizens of Thorium Point and The Iron Summit, if indeed not the entire region of Searing Gorge, were so used to Lunk and his affinity with all creatures, that it did not lead to many raised eyebrows.

"That's the thing, Lunk, I don't know – yet. Something however, is calling me to the north."

He made a deep noise in his chest. "I understand. Lunk will miss raven. You have been good company."

I admit I was rather touched by that and there was certainly some sadness within me as I took to the wing, leaving the compassionate ogre behind.

Soaring high, I made my way ever north. There was a pull taking me there. Yet, still I did not know what it was. As I flew up through Dun Morogh and over the snow covered landscape, my mind began to cogitate over what the tauren cultist had said. He firmly believed I was something, or someone other than a mere raven. I cawed at the term.

Mere ravens did not cast frost bolts or any other form of magic for that matter. That, combined with the dreams I'd experienced, I had to admit, Muattai's ideaology seemed strangely plausible.

So who or what was I? I had an inkling, a hunch. My dreams were becoming more vivid and both the wet-eyed woman and the man with silver hair were prominent figures in them. I had felt some thread of connection with this man; an empathy, an understanding, an emotional bond. But was I he? Who he actually was remained a mystery.

My logic told me that while humans sometimes dreamed of being animals, it was not assumed so the other way around. I, a raven, could not, therefore, be simply fantasising about being a humanoid. These subconscious images had to be...memories. Surely!

I firmly believed that the pull I was feeling to the north, was somehow a keystone to my discovering my real identity. Then another thought crossed my mind. If I was a shape-shifter, then why could I not shift back? What was it which prevented me from doing so?

I scanned the ground beneath me. I had passed over the snow covered hills of Dun Morogh and now I crossed over marshland. Below, I saw a variety of creatures. Ravasaurs, reptiles similar to the diemetradons of Searing Gorge, but these ran on powerful hind legs, their front ones being too small to reach the ground or support their weight even if they could. They roamed the upper plains, hunting small prey and protecting their nests from thieving orcs.

Within the winding rivers and streams, crocolisks also lay in wait for their prey, or meandered near the various little settlements, hoping for an easy meal of who or whatever camped there.

Coastal murlocs slip- slapped their way over the sandy beaches pillaging from the odd wrecks lying just off shore. Their throaty gurgles travelled easily on the warm air as they went about their daily tasks. There was something quite endearing about these little fish-men, even when they charged at you all bug-eyed and gurgling frantically, waving their homemade spears at you.

I bore to the north again, having flown too far west while enjoying quiet observation of the land below. Up over Thandol Span, the once massive bridge engineered by the dwarves. Sadly it was another casualty of the scourge attacks during the third war, but it was still an impressive example of dwarven skill. The crossing took me into the Arathi Highlands. I flew over the area paying little attention to the land for now I felt whatever was luring me onwards was almost within my sight.

Nonetheless, my stomach informed me that I had to eat. I sensed I was close to where I needed to be, but I was hungry. The aroma of nature's offerings by way of the sea, wafted up on the warm draughts and enveloped me. It was too good to refuse. By the position of the sun it was now close to mid morning, perhaps nearer noon. I turned west as I passed over Dun Garok, the old dwarven fortress which nestled in the south-eastern reaches of Hillsbrad Foothills. I then headed for the coastal town of Southshore.

I felt a sense of melancholy settle over me as I flew down to the old wooden pier. When I landed, another odd sensation flowed through me. I could only describe it as ... nostalgia. This was once a quaint and thriving little town in days gone by. It had been an invaluable source of supplies for those affiliated with the Alliance, in particular during the years when Lordaeron was predominently a human realm and its Capital City was under the rule of King Terenas Menethil.

Those days however, were long gone and the land had suffered not only at the hands of the scourge during the third war but also from the plague of the forsaken blight during the cataclysmic rise of Deathwing the Destroyer. The township now lay in ruins, its main inhabitants plague ridden, aggressive gelatinous globules; a foul source of some new, highly volatile, fatal substance which needed to be extracted and stored within specially designed vials.

While I embraced all this information - knowledge, astuteness, whatever you want to call it, I felt like a weight lift from me. It was almost as if each piece of my true identity's puzzle was being uncovered with whatever memories or former knowledge my brain processed. In that moment I fully believed that I had been here before, albeit many years ago, and in a different form. My true form.

Logic once more thrust to the fore as I decided I could only be one of two things; a night elf or a human. Admittedly, humans could not ordinarily shape-shift as the elves could, but the dreams I had been having strongly suggested I was of the latter species. I looked to the north west. There was something over those hills which sang to me, enticed me, seduced me. Perhaps it would reveal all.

I ruffled my feathers and did a quick spot check of my secondaries, primaries and tertiaries. Now, I needed sustenance. I hopped over the wooden planks that served as the beaten quay, and noticed some small crabs on the adjacent shore. The prospect of killing one of these little guys did not sit well with me, but at this moment in time it was them, or putrid, bloated corpses of creatures which had fallen ill of the befouled Southshore township.

I skipped a couple of steps then glided over to the neighbouring shore. My feet sank into the soft sand. It was warm and strangely comforting. Small dunes, shaped by the ebbing waters of the azure sea provided an obstacle course for the small crabs that scuttled up the shore. I eyed them carefully.

As I contemplated battering one of the crustaceans, it suddenly dawned on me that I had never actually done such a thing ... ever! Whether as a raven or, I supposed, as a man, I had always been accustomed to having such delicacies already ... well ... dead at the hands (or beak) of another.

This was not going to be an easy task, but I was hungry for I had failed to have breakfast. I tilted my head, watching the crabs sidle their way around the dunes and ripples in the sand. Surely it couldn't be that hard? They were small. One quick peck and that should do it.

Pulling my feet out from the sifting sand I moved closer. One had stopped as my shadow covered it. It stood, pincers drawn, forelegs off the ground, ready for the fight. I stabbed at it. It pinged a few centimetres away. It was still moving, so I hopped forward to try again.

To my surprise it came at me, maniacally snipping its claws at my legs. I was so startled that it had the nerve to challenge something at least four times its size that I stood there, frozen in disbelief.

Until I felt the nip of its pincers that is. I flapped my wings and jumped back. It scuttled towards me again and this time I pecked at it harder. I missed. To my dismay, I noticed from the side that some of its companions were watching the duel and were creeping nearer, pincers at the ready. Again I stabbed at it.

This time my beak came down hard on its shell and the crab was half buried in the sand. The others still came at me but I was trying to determine whether I had been successful or not in pursuit of my lunch.

I froze yet again as an enormous shadow stretched out over the sand. The crabs suddenly scurried away en masse, towards the green of the nearby meadows. A loud, long drawn out hiss sounded from behind me. I stared at the shadow, my eyes grew larger, of that I am sure, for this was no man, nor beast from the nearby meadows. Another hiss, and slowly I turned to meet what had terrified the little crustaceans.

There, rising at least eight feet was a creature I had never, to my knowledge, had a close encounter with before. Its reptilian body glistened from the water still dripping from its form.

Mainly azure and sea green, the creature's scales had an iridescent quality like the great conches of the deep waters. It had four arms, adorned in armour and trinkets, its taloned hands, weapons in themselves. From the full breasts showing between fronds of seaweed it was not hard to deduce it was female.

The face that loomed above me was terrifying yet strangely beautiful, hypnotic. A snake-like snout protruded from its ophidian face, rows of sharp teeth hinted at from between its scaled lips.

Eyes, red with vertical pupils stared at me with something akin to utter distaste. Its head writhed with serpent-like tendrils which seemed to taste the air in an almost exotic, constant form of dance as a large fin, armed with sharp spikes rippled and ran down from its crown to the centre of its back.

An even greater sense of foreboding and pending doom washed over me as from behind this creature came two more. These ones definitely male, their bodies rippling not only in scales, fins and tendrils but also pure muscle. They also carried enormous spears.

These, were naga.