Disclaimer: NO! It's not mine!
A/N: Bwa hah! Here I am again. It's a beautiful spring afternoon in both Procrastination Land and New England. Birds are singing, then forgetting. Bunnies are hopping, but then sleeping cause they're too lazy. And ducks a putting off having little ducklings. What's new?
Yes Reaper, far more violence then I've been leaning on lately. More to come, now is where it begins to get juicy! And Azure Dragoness, I am far from ending. And I always put cliffies. It's either that or pay you guys to come back!
Not many reviews since I wrote, so not many credits. And without more credits, here's chapter ten! I might be stretching some things here with spells, but whatever. Forgive me please. And if anyone noticed, I solved the language problem in Chapter Eight.
P.S: I just realized I hit thirty reviews! That is spectacular!
Chapter Ten: Rise Again
Gwyneth smirked with pleasure as the undead showed her the new prison that would hold her. Anyone else would have tried desperately to escape from the gruesome chains that were wrapped around the wrists of a dead Tauren corpse. The undead kicked that viciously aside, unlocking the cuffs and tightening them around Gwyn's wrists. They should have used a cage.
"Thralk will be back to deal with you later." one undead sniffed with some guilt. Like most of the undead in the army he was not used to treating prisoners in such a way. Thralk taught them to erase their mercy, pity, and tolerance to make way for a better beginning. Most undead liked these things just where they were.
As the undead exited Gwyn let her muscles relax. It was an old trick taught to her by her father. Tense your muscles and they grow bigger, relax them and they shrink. The cuffs were fit to tensed muscles, but this alone would not stop the cuffs from constricting her. Luckily Gwyn had another trick up her sleeve.
The druid summoned power to her being, letting the aide of nature course through her veins and instill her with what blessings it could offer. Gwyneth smiled now, her mouth lengthening into a long golden muzzle that was dappled with dark blotches. Her hands became delicate paws with sharp, talon-like claws that flexed and twitched. Gwyneth could now move a long golden tail and flick the ears on the sides of her head. The travel form was graced to the druid.
Gwyn slipped her slight cheetah's paws through the chain cuffs. It came easily and her paws slipped through what now seemed to be a large loop around her wrist. With satisfaction Gwyn allowed her fluid body to slip around the prison. She knew there were guards outside, but her druid prowess defended her against that as well.
Closing her eyes Gwyn spent much more of her energy on calling forth a new spell. Instantly she became ghostly to her own eyes, staring right through her powerful legs and down onto the rocks on the floor of the tent. But the spell would not last long and it would be even a shorter amount of time before her captors checked on her. Time was of essence.
The spell kept Gwyn shielded against other eyes and it was not long before her cheetah's nose had picked up the scent of her frantic Tauren friend. Gwyn's mouth opened partially, her tongue drinking in the scent of another being not long passed. Thralk.
Gwyneth followed the trail, listening to the exclamation of the guards in back of her as they found her missing.
Yawna awoke to a blazing head ache. It was not more then three minutes after she had first fainted. Thralk was still there, she noticed, glowering at her. He had dropped the body of the child, but instead he was watching Yawna with a face of interest and chewing placidly on something that made Yawna sick all over again.
"It's strange, your reaction." Thralk remarked as if it were the most interesting thing he had heard yet, "You suffer when you feel pain and yet flourish when it is thrust at others. You draw strength from people who are despaired, but suffer from it as well. Exactly how do you work, and why does the Prophecy see you as such a large threat?"
Yawna shivered backwards as Thralk neared down beside her. He sniffed softly, as if testing her by this before looking strongly into her eyes. His brimmed with cruelty, red little beads set far back into his skull.
"An oracle told me the next part of the prophecy," Thralk remarked nonchalantly, standing with a swoosh of his robes, " Shall I tell it to you. I must admit. It seals you fate."
Thralk cleared his throat and began:
""'Bonds of friendship must be made
In order to disprove what lies have been laid.
Where forces of hatred do conspire,
Only rain can quench the fire.'"
"'Scars of past in tattered hope,
Twin Awareness, tight walk rope.
Light and dark. Blood and fire.
See the blindness through the mire.'"
"Only when Light doth pass,
Through the blindness rain does mass
Darkness wary eye does see,
Untainted victory.'"
Thralk chuckled as Yawna's eyes widened further. At first he thought the Tauren weak. How could this young calf be prophesized as his greatest weakness? How could they say she could possibly be his downfall. But the prophecy promised him a victory, and he would get it.
But then Yawna stood. It was labored, but a step above what Thralk had anticipated. He noted with displeasure suddenly that his men had not unarmed her. She still had her bone axe and gun, though he could think of no reason why but haste.
"You will never win Thralk, for you will never be happy," Yawna spoke in a hoarse voice, "I know your anger now. The same anger that you felt when you slayed Two-Moons and When the Demon Wolf attacks. You control it, don't you Thralk. It calls to your whim."
Thralk blinked in surprise, the light of his eyes briefly shadowed over by a beaten brow when he lowered his head. But when he lifted it again it was nothing but triumphant glare that met Yawna's eyes and she stirred slightly.
"You are so very clever Yawna. Maybe Two-Moons was not wrong after all when he took you under his tender wing. But mark my words Yawna, I will win as the prophecy foretold. And I will make a mockery of every thing that you stand for." With that Thralk spread his arms slowly, smiling as the small undead children surrounding him drew away in fear.
"Witness it now." Thralk oozed with pleasure.
Var'Jun's breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the mount. It was a traditional troll mount, the long lizard-like creature blinking at him with an inquisitive eye. Var'Jun flexed his fingers. He was not skilled enough or trained to use the mount, but he knew it had been sent by Mitka and Gar'Ihn and somehow it gave him power.
Var'Jun was soon learned by the creature. After falling off three times he thought it faster if he run, but soon he was able to sit on it's back without falling to the ground. The lizard had extreme speeds too and Var'Jun could feel the miles slipping under his feet. He would reach north by nightfall.
After he had traveled for hours Var'Jun slipped rather stiffly off the back of the mount. The undead camp lay before him, the evidence of struggle past in the dirt. The warrior found a strip of cloth that belonged to Gwyneth in the dirt, and a small speck of blood he was sure smelt like Kat's. This sent shivers up his spine and made him look at the camp with a new loathing.
He patted his mount fondly, giving it a little smack to send it on it's way. There would be bloodshed, he knew it.
At first the warrior was sneaky. He slinked in between camps and tents, his long legs and arms shivering in and out of cracks and crevices to tighten his body into grotesque shapes. But soon it was evident there would be killing, and his first victim was a young undead rouge that shivered and shook when Var'Jun laced his hands around his neck.
"Tell me," Var'Jun hissed, his demand cloaking the sky, "Did they bring any prisoners here? Any prisoners that might have been a tauren, night elf, or some humans?" When the undead shivered and said nothing Var'Jun quickly found a dagger among the folds of the rouge's robes and brought it to it's owner's neck.
"Speak now," Var'Jun hissed, "I promise mercy if it's what I want to hear."
The undead hesitated, looking around him as if suspecting someone else to leap from the shadows. The dagger pressed closer to his neck and the rogue started, choking out his words with a care as his Adam's apple was almost slit by the knife.
"Yes, yes. All those you just stated sir."
"And where were they taken."
The rouge paused again, fear of Thralk dominating him. But the dagger was a more immanent threat and he quickly spilled his information, for it was the same rogue who was Thralk's errand boy.
"The male human is still in the prison. He's going to be used as target practice I think. And- Ow, I'm still talking. And the night elf is chained somewhere else around here. She was- not so close with that thing! She was interrogated by our Lord. The tauren is roaming around here someplace. She was talking to Lord Thralk about the release of the prisoners. I'm not sure how far she got with that though."
"And what of the female human?" Var'Jun asked with a new urgency as the undead paused once more.
"She was taken by a General. Kolkua I think. Thralk always gives him the pretty prisoners though. And it's a shame because Kolkua's so rough with them too."
"What do you mean?" Var'Jun's blood was ice. He felt his heart thunder in his throat, then he pressed the dagger closer and demanded, though the answer was already anticipated.
"You know, he uses them." The undead stiffened at the dagger on his neck, "Kolkua hasn't had a girl for quite some time now. He's an ugly bastard. But once he's done with her she'll probably be passed around a bit more, Thralk sometimes takes his pick, he'll probably with this one. She's a looker. But Kolkua will probably take all the life out of her by the end of it. And anyways- ugh… guh…." The undead's voice gulped off as the dagger slid smoothly across his throat.
"That was not what I wanted to hear." Var'Jun growled at the body as it slid off of him. Something was stirring in his blood, something had had threatened to emerge all day but had been kept at bay. It was what was referred to as the Fury by the trolls that were led by Var'Jun's family's monarchy. The warrior's blood boiled and his eyes clouded over red. The killing would begin.
Gwyneth was becoming tired. Her paws and limbs ached from sneaking around the camp searching for the original tent she had been captive in. The army was massive, almost like all of the Undercity in the Lordaeron Ruins had come to Thralk's aide. When Gwyn finally found the tent she was shocked by the absence of guards. Then again, they did not expect any chance of escaping. And Gwyneth's slink cheetah body was able to slip through most things doubled with her invisibility.
To Gwyn's surprise only Malchior was inside the tent. The door to Kat's prison was ajar, rough signs of a struggle in the dirt. There was no sign of concern from Malchior however, because he was sound asleep against the rough flap of the sturdy leather tent.
Gwyn growled, her voice quickly changing from a feline snarl to an elfin scowl as her body morphed back into it's usual form. She rapped on the bars of the prison impatiently, her voice filled with a newfound annoyance for the prejudice paladin.
"Get up. Where are Yawna and Kat?"
Malchior came around, blinking the sleep from his eyes and standing stiffly. His weapons have been removed and his armor stolen which made his body and shoulders look even skinnier and rather slight.
"The cow I don't know about. Kat was taken away not even ten minutes ago by some undead though. Really big, ugly fellow with a face only a mother could love. Seemed to be important though."
"You don't sound too concerned." Gwyn remarked with disgust, her hands trying desperately to figure out the combination lock on the prison. After a moment of being frustrated she let magic seep in through her fingers and slowly the padlock began to undo itself. The druidess also noticed though, that Kat's cell was a key lock.
"There was nothing I could do from inside the cell." Malchior shrugged, "And besides, she's rather fiery too, so she should be able to handle herself." He Didn't thank Gwyn for letting him out, nor did he acknowledge the fact that he had not owned up to all his big talk.
"I hope so," Gwyn said softly, the weight of what she had done pressing down onto her like a heavy wet blanket.
Var'Jun panted quickly, rounding the corner of another tent and deftly sliding his broad sword through the ribs of another undead guard. He was traveling less in stealth now and mostly just silencing all those who could possibly be a threat now. He had slain almost twenty and he hadn't been in the undead camp for more than an hour. But the dead rogue's words were a burden on his heart and it pressed him onwards.
He stopped the next undead, holding the already soiled dagger against his heart and demanding the tent of Kolkua. The general was well known and little liked, and even though Var'Jun was not able to let any live he did kill this new victim with swift and painless wounds for the information he received.
Kolkua's tent was a large affair. It was covered in paintings and murals that depicted blood and battle. The skull of a Tauren was mounted over the doorway and the slight smell of decay hung around the air. There were no guards, for Kolkua feared little. But there was also another reason, for the General like privacy when he was relieving his stress.
Var'Jun ignored the niceties of a surprise attack. He slunk though the shadows and entered the tent, sword flashing and brandished with an angry accuracy. What met the troll's eyes would haunt both his dreams and Kat's, for she was the victim there.
There was Kolkua, his rotting jaws fastened forcefully on Kat's once rosy lips. But now she was pale, her face tear stained and her hands still trying weakly to conjure mage fire, the blue flames flickering and fading weakly. Kolkua was an ugly brute, his red eyes set far back into an ape-like head. He had very square features and curling nails that clung to Kat, one on her shoulder and the other lower than her neck and very discomforting to the poor human. When she saw Var'Jun Kat gave a little whimper, words failing her completely.
With a roar of rage Var'Jun dropped his sword, abandoning the weapon for fear of hitting the priestess. Instead he leaped on Kolkua with an animal-like stance and throwing him to the ground.
"How dare you?" Var'Jun raged, his hands flinging to the dagger at his hip and bringing it above the General's chest, "don't you ever touch her. Ever!" The troll brought the dagger down with slow wrenches that made the undead gurgle blood and clutch the troll's hands weakly. Var'Jun felt the tip enter the heart with a very warm soothing and he chuckled as Kolkua choked and lay still underneath him.
"Var'Jun?" It was Kat's shaky voice that interrupted the red. All Var'Jun could see was the crimson streaks in front of his eyes. He curled his lips, licking a spare trickle of blood off of one of his tusks and turning to the priestess with no reorganization in his bloody orbs.
"Var'Jun?" Kat now sobbed, completely breaking down and kneeling on the ground miserably. She clutched her torn clothes, her eyes once more awash with tears. It was this that brought Var'Jun back from the Fury ad he slowly lent down to her side, taking her in a warm grasp despite the fact the she shivered away at the feeling of touch once again.
"You still got those bandages Kat?" The troll asked weakly, feeling the thin form tremble in his embrace.
Yawna turned around, watching the children shrink back. She saw the fear in their eyes, the wounds on their bodies, and the slow anger that was slowly consuming their souls.
"Why children Thralk?"
"Because," Thralk said, kicking at the dead body on the floor. He was stepping on it's fingers, smiling every time he heard one crack. "Nothing anger's a town more than finding a dead child in their midst. When I want to summon the Wolf I just murder a child and throw it's body down into town. I attack a human town, I throw the human child in the middle and hate erupts there. They always suspect all their neighbors."
"The Wolf comes to hate then?" Yawna asked, her Awareness pouring through the camp. She was invading all the minds of the soldiers one by one, seeing their thoughts and speaking to them. It took most of her energy, but soon she could coax them into abandonment. She smiled as the rebellion began outside the tent flap and Thralk could not tell.
Thralk shifted slightly as he felt the faint brushing of the Awareness. He saw the faraway look in Yawna's pale hazel eyes and demanded impudently.
"What are you doing?"
"I called to them all. An eighth of your army has just abandoned you Thralk. They will go elsewhere and find peace. Your war is not wanted."
"What?" Thralk raged, his eyes burning once more, " How dare you?" From the folds of his robes Thralk produced a throwing knife. His deadly accuracy was a pain that stuck Yawna's shoulder close to her heart, but she only winced and smiled.
"Poor Thralk. You can find no solace, can you?"
The undead opened his mouth to say something more, but it caught in his throat. He paused as he felt the sun rising outside from what was a very long night. It was the fifth day since he had made plans, and the day of reckoning would begin. He could waste no more time.
"I leave you with a parting gift Yawna." he waved his hands as a beastly chunk of rotting flesh and metal pieces rose form the ground. An Abomination, the very guards of the Undercity with their insides spilling out, stared at Yawna with beady black eyes and a dull wit. Thralk had disappeared without a trace.
The disturbing creature lifted it's axe high and brought it crashing down on the Tauren huntress's head just as Gwyneth dragging Malchior and Var'Jun practically carrying Kat all rallied at the tent flap and stared in horror. The had followed Weary Traveler to where he knew his master was, but there was no way Yawna could have survived the blow.
Wow, the cliffies! I feel so bad for Kat! She totally did not deserve that, but there is so much more in store for all of them. They still are yet to see the terror. It's a shame really. I created these characters to suffer, overcome, and possibly triumph. Possibly. To get some things straight, Var'Jun is a Prince. All that's going to come up later as well as Mitka and Gar'Ihn. Kat is going to have some of her past come up too, and I'll explain more of Gwyn's predicament and exactly where Malchior came from. More people will end up leaving and some will come back. Just to give you a little hint though, one of the original four, Gwyneth, Kat, Var'Jun, and Yawna will die. I'm not gonna tell you who though! Sorry about the short chapter. I was hacing a bout of writer's block. But don;t worry, verything's better now. New chapter... I dunno if I can say soon. You know I always procrastinate. But I love getting reviews, so not too long fromnow. You'll just have to be patient!