A Wolf with a coat of Darkness – chapter 1
I do not own ASoIF/GoT or Warcaft/WoW
Rated M for the Cult of the Damned and the Scourge (including but not limited to cannibalism, human experimentation, murder, rape, slavery, torture, sadism)
Sansa felt her senses coming back to her. And she was not happy they did. A burning pain quickly spread through her ankles and wrists, the sensation spreading to encapsulate her feet and hands fully. Her dark vision returned not long after.
The red-head found herself in the back of wagon, of a sort, with tall white pillars curving inwards on several intervals along the sides. Trying to move, she found her wrists and ankles bound with the skin already red close to the ropes.
"W-W-What?" she managed to utter out as panic quickly set in. "What is happening? Where am I?" she nearly screamed as she thrashed against her restrains. Her scared blue eyes found that she was not alone in the cart. An assortment of men and women of all ages, even two children filled it. Some looked like nobles or rich merchants, other like knights but with their armor battered and broken. Some had pristine clothes, others barely had anything to conceal their modesty.
"Who are you? What is happening?!" Sansa franticly asked.
"Shut it, you daft girl!" hissed out an older woman with black messy hair and tattered robes, bound just as Sansa was. They all were.
"H-how dare you! My father is the hand of the king, you cannot speak to me t-"
"You really should shut up" said a gruff voice, Sansa quickly turning to one of the knights. The man was maybe her father's age, but his brown eyes were so tired, the man barely keeping them open. "Unless you want to get us all killed."
"Killed? How dare you! I am betrothed to the crown prince, you cannot threate-"
"We are trying to save your stupid live, and ours." interupted the woman.
"Bah! Can't you see? She is some stupid noble! Look at her skin! Practically flawless. And her dress! Must have cost a pretty penny." Said an elderly woman to her left.
"QUIET BACK THERE!" Came a distorted voice from the front of the carriage.
"Listen girly." Began the first woman in a whisper, leaning in. "I don't know where you are, but the closest still living nobles are thousands of miles away. Right now, we are all prisoners of the cult and if you want to keep that pretty little head on your shoulders, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."
Fear and panic froze Sansa, her eyes wildly darting around. Prisoner? Cult? No nobles for thousands of miles? Just what were these peasants talking about? Still, she slowly came to grips with the reality of her situation, the painfully right bindings reminding her of it.
"What cult? Where are we?" Sansa asked aloud without bothering to lower her voice. And not a second later, a creature of horror jumped onto the cart and got straight into her face. It quickly extended bloody, deformed hands and grasped onto her red hair as its lower jaw unhinged and opened impossibly wide, showing disgusting yellow malformed teeth as a putrid smelled invaded her sensitive nose.
The Stark girl could only shriek and thrash against her bonds.
"Fluffy! Down! DOWN I SAID!" came the voice of the couch master as he stopped the cart and got up from his seat, turning back towards his charges.
"I told you to be quiet, girly! Look how you startled poor Fluffykins!" said a man in dark purple robes with his hood up and a mask covering the lower half of his face.
"Now- "he coughed into his oversized sleeves before continuing "We will all be quiet and enjoy a peaceful ride to our destination, won't we?" he asked, his white eyes looking directly at Sansa.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned back forth and the cart resumed its uniform movement. But all Sansa could look was the creature as it got off the back of the cart. With it no longer trying to eat her face, her wide blue eyes took all of its majestic horror in.
A thin frame with chunks of meat missing showing naked bone and muscle, ribs protruding like a hand forth like a third hand, trying to grasp at anyone that got too close. Long arms for its body, partly covered in bandaged, ending in things that were more claw than finger. A few strands of thin white hair remained on its head, framing an elongated faces showcasing large, empty, glowing yellow eyes. Boils and sores dotted the few patches of remaining skin that showed beneath the few pieces of… cloth that clung to the creature.
It took her nearly a minute to calm her breath from her hyperventilating stance, her eyes never leaving the thing as it took position on the side of the cart and moved with it. Honestly, it was a miracle that Sansa had not seen it before. It was quite a few painfully long minutes before her panicked mind calmed down enough to form coherent thoughts.
This was an abomination! And that man! He must be a heretic! A witch! A male witch! Oh, the seven preserve her. As she more and more came to her senses, tears started streaking down her face, her breathing speeding up once again the more her mind raced.
Just where was she? No good lord in the grace of the just seven would allow such things to so blatantly exist. And they were on a main road, no less! Cobbled and even occasional fences on the side! Father! Joffrey! Anyone, please! Her bound hands quicky interlinked their fingers, the girl trying to find a prayer but her mind coming in blank. She searched and searched her mind for a solution, for an exit. Logic dictated that she awaited to be rescued, but what if no one came?
She can scream for help! Surely the noble knights would come to the aid of the maiden? But… but what if they were not fast enough? Her eyes again wondered to that thing walking in pace with the cart. What if that thing devoured her before the brave warriors got to her. She closed her eyes, but the image of the rotten maw full of sharp teeth filled her vision like a flash of lightning, forcing her to quickly reopen her eyes.
Finding that indeed staying passive is probably her best option, she tried to calm her nerves down. 'I am the daughter of a high lord! I am valuable alive!' She tried to reassure herself. Nevertheless, morbid curiosity got the better of her and seeing how her unwilling travel companions were not that disturbed by that thing, she leaned in towards the woman that first spoke to her.
"What-what in the seven is that thing?" she asked in a whisper, the four people on either side of the two of them hearing the question as well, causing them to scoff.
"You are in the middle of the Plaguelands and have never seen a ghoul before?" asked the woman in a low voice.
"Plaguelands? Ghoul?" Sansa shook her head in disbelief. What was this peasant talking about?
"Next thing you will tell me you have never heard of the cult?" at Sansas' blank look, the woman got borderline angry and offended. "The cult? THE cult? The fucking cult of the fucking damned?" the proper part of Sansa that was raging at the vulgar language was currently suppressed so far down that she did not even register it.
"Just fill her in quickly so she can be quiet." Hissed out the knight in annoyance.
"Ugh, where to start? Do you even know of Lordaeron?" the red-head quickly shook her head, her eyes constantly darting between Sansa and the creature on the side of the cart.
"Oh, you are fucked, alright." And then she began her retelling.
The woman spoke of plagued grained that turned people into undead, of dark magicians – necromancer that in turn controlled them. Of death knights and abomination. Supposedly, that thing next to them was not even that strong or special. A foot soldier in an endless army.
'No! This is impossible!' she raged inside herself. Magic? Plague? Undeath? Evil wizards? It sounded like one of Old Nan's bad bedtime tales. So bad that in no world would that tale ever be real, not even in a childs' mind. And yet, her blue eyes remained locked on that thing next to the cart.
"So…Now what?" Sansa finally whispered out.
"For now, we are safe, atleast until the cart stops."
"How can you know?" asked the red-head.
"We are still alive. Now shush."
Silence descended over the road, only the steady rumbling of the cart echoing across the forest all around them. Her quick conversation left Sansa with more questions than answers. Just…where was she? She was diligent in her lessons, yet she had never heard of Lordaeron. Never heard of towns like Andorhal or Stratholme. She tried to convince herself that it was all a bad dream, for there was no other explanation. How could any of this be real.
She tried pinching herself and with some tugging, she managed to twist her left arm enough so that the right may deliver the pain. And nothing. She tried several more time with the only result been the reddening of her skin.
Panic again befell upon her, leading her to try everything that her mind came up with. Deep breaths, pinching, twisting, focusing on home. She tried to fall asleep, but each time a maw of teeth flashing before her eyes quickly awoke her before she can truly doze off. In the end, she focused on trying to ignore the pain coming from her wrists and ankles, the course rope digging into her skin more and more each time she moved.
Unable to sleep or move, she settled on simply looking around, trying to distract herself from both the pain and shock. Not that there was much to look at. Dense, dark forest as far as the eye can see in any direction. Sansa vague noted smoke up ahead, a hope rising that they were headed for a town or atleast a village where they would be rescued, but that hope was quickly crushed given how… confident their captives were. It was probably their town or village.
For hours, they moved in silence, the girl constantly looking between the dark forest with the occasional pair of eyes in between the trees looking back, her companions who were, surprisingly, mostly asleep and the ghoul moving next to them.
Eventually and what felt like dusk, they arrived at a clearing, Sansa momentarily losing her breath.
Tents matching the same purple colors of the robes of the driver were set up in between large cages, half of which filled with man and beasts alike. She felt tears well up again in her eyes as they passed by many of the piles of corpses that doted the clearing, the scream-locked faces with their empty eyes seemingly following her. She vague noted that many of the corpses were naked and missing body parts. Some even missing entire halves, be it lower, upper or…side to side…
She was forced to rip her gaze from the bodies when she no longer could look at them, only for her gaze to fall on all other… undead that doted the clearing.
Ghouls, ghouls and more ghouls. Creatures in various states of decay. Skeletons, armed skeletons, armored skeletons. And in the middle, more cultists tending to glass bottles and colorful liquids over tiny fires while others sat and read books, some having a corpse idly laying before them on the ground.
Her sizzling-hot blood suddenly ran cold when her eyes fell upon a tilted table to the side of the camp, a large blob of flesh laying upon it. It vaguely looked humanoid, missing an arm and a leg, but everything looked oversized, bloated, barely held together by the stitches visible even from as far as she was.
And then the cart stopped.
"Off, all of you. Off!" shouted one of the cultists that had approached the cart as soon as it had stooped. More and more cultists and their undead minions began swarming around the cart as everyone got up from their seats and onto the ground. Sansa found herself following more out of fear than anything else, the girl sitting in the middle of the cart. She found it hard to move with her ankles tied, the girl alternation between baby steps and hopping, much like everyone else. A few fell on their faces over the edge, but were quickly brough up to their feet by skeletons.
Half-led, half-forced by the undead, they were arranged in a straight line facing a cultist that had a more elaborate headwear, for there was no other way Sansa could describe the mix of a tiara, skull, horns and cloth that adorned the mans' head.
"Let me be the first to congratulate you on your good luck." Began the man "As of right now, you are all have the chance to become our brothers and sisters!" he raised his hands and swept to the side, as if presenting something grand.
"All of you will be brough into the glorious embrace of our lord, the Lich King and will serve faithfully. Right now, you have to choose how. As living –" Sansa found her bonds been cut by a skeleton and she flinched at the cold touch of naked bone, especially as that skeletal hand forced a dagger into her own.
" – or as undead." They were again half-led, half-forced into position, this time into pairs, Sansa noting that everyone was free and given a dagger. She briefly wondered why the men were not fighting, but she also saw the overwhelming number of undead and cultists all around them.
"Now, the choice is simple. Kill or be killed. Those that survive will serve as living agents in one way or another. Those that do not will be gloriously reborn into undeath!" It took some time for the red-head to process what that man said. He wanted her to kill the person before her?
No.
No, that can not be happening! This was not right! She can not just…kill! She looked at the dagger in her hand, already shaking in fear and shock before lifting her gaze and seeing that against her stood the knight, the same mean-looking dagger in his hand. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered the "or be killed" part, bringing the dagger before herself and grasping it with both hand despite barely been able to do so.
She tried to silently plea with the man against her, shaking her head, mounting no over and over again but he remained impassive, his eyes as dead as ever. He was looking straight at her and once again fear froze her. She was certain he would not hesitate to kill her.
"Begin." And chaos broke out.
A scream made her look to the left, just to see a boy, barely older than Robb stabbing an older man over and over again, the man in vain trying to defend himself against the much younger foe. Further down, the dark-haired woman embraced a young boy, barely a child in a tight hug. Sansa could have sworn she sung to him as she plunged the dagger into the boys' heart within their embrace.
It took a few more moments, but it was as if a rain storm had suddenly broken out with everyone rushing into action. She saw to her right as the old crass woman that had commented on her and her dress simply stand and let herself be killed by what was a girl about Aryas' age, the child crying and asking for forgiveness even as the old woman smiled at her and ruffled the girls' brown hair with bloody hands.
Suddenly realizing that she and the knight were the last pair, Sansas' only warning were the sound of boots on dirt before a shadow fell over her, the noble screaming in fright. The knight was on her, quite literally, her frightened blue eyes meeting his tired brown ones, his head just above hers. It was then that she noted that he had stopped moving and that she was unhurt. Trying to move her hand, she was unable to and looking down, she saw that the dagger she was holding onto was plunged fully into her opponents' stomach.
A new wave of shock overtook her, freezing her in place. Sansa found herself unable to tear her gaze away as she saw blood drip out from the wound, over the dagger and onto both her hands, the warmth of the crimson liquid warming her and making her skin crawl at the same time.
"Live." She heard in barely a whisper, snapping her head up just in time to see the light leave the knights' eyes. They stood like that for a few moments as blood kept on coating her arms, now reaching her elbows and not soon after, the now dead man collapsed, leaving a stunned Sansa clinging onto her dagger, the knife having come out with a sickening sound when the man fell backwards.
"I supposed that counts." Said with boredom and annoyance the head cultists, but Sansa barely heard him, her blue eyes remaining locked onto the still open eyes of her opponent. Of her…savior. Of her kill.
Kill.
Her frozen form suddenly went limp and the red-head collapsed to the ground, the realization slowly dawning on her. She nearly threw the dagger away, now trying to scrub the blood from her hands in a great frenzy, feeling what little food return back before vomiting before herself.
Shaking and tear-stricken, her jaw quivering she looked up as the head cultists approached.
"Welcome to the cult, brothers and sisters!"
A gritty, dark take on a warcraft tale. For behind the colorful graphics and simplistic, almost cartoonish at times design of Warcraft/WoW lie quite a few dark stories. I am note sure just how far in the dark aspects I would go, but an M rating just to be on the safe side (though I already probably passed it with this chapter)
I feel that the cultists are not necessarily evil (not all) at the start and some were forced/had no other choice and it was by their later horrific actions that they came to realize that they can no longer return to normal society and thus fully devoting themselves to the cult.
Or something along those lines. Anyway, let us see how this one goes.
Thank you for reading.
Cheers