Chapter 25: Headstrong
Then.
There was a reason that not many Draenei warriors trained with Melor.
Some of it was simple circumstance: they ended up under the tutelage of Kore, or Ahonan, or one of the others. For the rest, the answer was simple when you saw Melor's face.
There wasn't much left.
Rielle did not know the exact circumstances of the battles her teacher had fought, but she didn't need them to know that he had to have survived some of the most atrocious of them. His facial tendrils were almost completely gone, only a few remaining on the right side of his face. The left side, as well as being devoid of the Draenei's traditional flesh-strands, almost seemed partially caved in (a trick of the light on the damaged flesh, Rielle had been told. His skull was supposedly all right, or at least sufficiently repaired), the eye long gone: Melor had replaced it with a magical jewel that supposedly compensated for the loss of his peripheral vision. The rest of the left side of his body was similarly ravaged: his left arm was notably smaller then the right one (nerve damage, Rielle had learned: despite the lesser size, Melor had supposedly compensated with greater training that made the arm equally as strong as his other, undamaged limb, a fact he'd used against more then a few cocky students), and he seemed to be more scar tissue than skin on the times Rielle had seen parts of his chest or legs. His back bore its own hideous scars, rumored to be from an atrocious fel curse that had caused malignant bone structures to sprout and rip through the flesh there. Indeed, from any angle you looked at, Melor's body spoke of the horrors of war.
Not all could look at that, at what he had survived, and by extent, what could await them in their futures, and see beyond it to the skills and knowledge his torments had earned him. True, all the Draenei teachers of the physical arts bore their own scars, but none to the degree of Melor. And so, not many approached him.
Melor did not really care. It was not a competition, to see who could gain the most or train the best recruits. The goal of the Draenei was to ensure their species' survival. Anything else paled in comparison.
It was a give-no-shit attitude that Rielle had found herself appreciating more and more as she'd begun her studies under the Draenei warrior.
It was this day, however, that she truly began to understand him.
Rielle had arrived at their training area outside the Exodar to find it empty. A brief wandering had turned up neither her fellow students or her teacher. A little more exploring had rectified the latter.
However, her teacher was in no condition to notice her. Mainly due to the fact he had been chained to an Elekk.
"Are they of suitable firmness?" The Draenei male in front of Melor said, as the scarred Draenei fiddled with the manacle he had attached to his right wrist.
"It seems to be." Melor said, holding out his arm and turning it a bit, looking at the shackle and the chain it was attached to. Similar restraints encased his other arm and both ankles on his legs: the chains lead to an Elekk that was positioned a small distance behind Melor. Said chains were attached to the Elekk's rear legs and tusks, another Draenei male sitting on the mount on top of the animal and petting it, the Elekk's eyes closed contently. "In any case, it will do."
"Teacher?" Rielle said. Melor turned his head towards the Draenei female, a bit of light glinting off the yellow gem set in his skull.
"Rielle. What are you doing here?"
"I…came to train, teacher. As per our lessons."
"Training?" Melor said. "That is not for some time, Rielle."
"…But I…" Rielle said, investigating the parchment she'd shoved into her pocket, of the rough schedule Melor had given her when they'd started their training. Checking the date confirmed she had the right day…but not, as she'd thought, the right time. The writing had been slightly smeared, and Rielle had read the time wrong. She was over four hours early. "Oh. F-"
"Language." Melor said, raising a hand. "Well, since you are here, child, go over to the stationary constructs and run some extra drills. I have my own efforts to attend to for now."
"Yes sir." Rielle said, folding the parchment back up and walking over to the nearby wood, stone, and crystal dummies that she had trained on before. Picking up a two-handed mace, she warmed up for several minutes, loosening her muscles up and getting her blood flowing. Noise and yelling behind her indicated that her master had started whatever he'd been planning with the two Draenei and the Elekk, but having been given a task, Rielle paid it no mind.
At first, anyway. After twenty minutes of swinging her stone mace at the training constructs, Rielle had finally gotten tired and bored enough to take a look. Dropping the mace and wiping her sweaty hair from her eyes, she turned to watch.
It didn't take long for her eyes to widen, and stay that way.
Whatever Melor had commanded the Elekk rider to do, it clearly did not involve staying still in any fashion. The Elekk roamed, twisted, and stomped around, dragging Melor by the chains he'd attached to himself. At the same time, Melor was facing down the other Draenei male, armed with the same stone training mace Rielle had been using. The other Draenei, however, was armed with a considerably more unpleasant weapon: a glowing blue staff that Draenei Vindicators occasionally used if they wanted to take a foe alive. The staff sent electrical blasts into whatever it struck, at strengths ranging from unpleasant to seizure-inducing (Rielle couldn't recall their official name, but their nickname was 'The Clench', due to the fact that getting zapped by one supposedly made your anus clench up so hard you'd need a muscle relaxant to get it back to normal). Normally, Melor would have never let his enemy get anywhere close to him with such a weapon, but with his body chained to a constantly-moving Elekk, his guard and stance was repeatedly disrupted, allowing his sparring partner to continually strike and jab him with the Clench staff. Despite his situation, Melor kept fighting, even after Rielle had thought, twice, that he was at risk at suffering a heart attack. Even when his sparring partner hesitated from the damage he seemed to be inflicted, Melor ordered him to continue, battling another seven minutes before he finally took a knee.
"Enough." Melor said quietly, laying down his weapon. The Draenei bowed, and then said something Rielle couldn't hear. Melor nodded in response, and the Draenei scampered off.
"…teacher?" Rielle said, approaching the badly battered Draenei. For a moment, Melor didn't response, feeling about his person before he produced a key.
"To answer your question, no, I am not 'all right', but I will survive." Melor said, unlocking the cuffs. Even those small motions seemed labored, but Rielle kept her distance. "Are you done? I am afraid I do not have any other tasks I can think of, beyond more exercise."
"Teacher…"
"Yes?"
"…why the fel are you doing? Are you INSANE?" Rielle said. "I might be a student, but…how does that help you?"
Melor said nothing, regarding his female student as he sat on the ground.
"I mean, maybe we…but…" Rielle said. ""I know that things won't always be in our favor, but…it just seems that…"
"Rielle." Melor said quietly. "I will teach you how to fight. But I can only take you so far. The same goes for any other trainer of our kind, or any kind. After that, you will have to teach yourself. And that, you will learn, is a lesson you will spend your whole life on. And it will be your lesson."
Rielle fell silent at her master's words, thinking them over.
"There is no way to truly prepare for everything, my lady." Melor said, slowly standing up. "Only what you decide to prepare for. I would like to think that you can find method in my madness. If not…well, then that is how it goes."
"…I suppose." Rielle said. "I still question the validity of what I just saw."
"As well you should." Melor said, as his sparring partner returned with a healing potion. The warrior Draenei drank it gratefully, the magics within the liquid immediately going to work on the ugly burn marks that covered his body. "Because the day you stop asking questions is the day I fear for you."
Rielle nodded in response.
"Now go run around the Exodar for taking such a disrespectful tone." Melor said, his voice now hard as a flint. "Three times. Toisil, keep pace!"
"Yes sir." Toisil said, brandishing the Clench staff at Rielle. "Move it young lady!"
"Wait how did-Gack!" Rielle said as the staff was thrust at her. Turning on her heels, she took off. Her first hope was that she could out-pace this Toisil.
And when it turned out she couldn't, her second was that she really didn't hope anyone she knew saw her.
Now.
While Rielle hadn't exactly found what she'd seen or been told that day incomprehensible at the time, it had taken her longer to fully understand.
The world was the harshest teacher of all, and there was no guarantee you would survive its lessons. Your odds were only as great as you made them.
Perhaps that was how Melor had survived to teach her.
And it was how Rielle planned to survive this day. She'd been taught, and taught herself, how to fight in the best and the worst conditions. Maybe nothing quite like this…but nothing in life happened the way you wanted or expected.
Sometimes, you just made do.
Her body was weakened, but her mind was as sharp as ever. She could see the subtle shift in weight, the rippling of the muscles in the ogre's body as he brought back his club. The room was cramped, but not cramped enough that he couldn't still swing his weapon if he was in the right position. She could see his angle even as he calculated it himself. He was going to swing at a downward slant, planning to catch her if she ducked at the top of her head, knocking her senseless and leaving her open to his fists or feet.
So she didn't duck. She juked to the side and ducked, the club sweeping over her head. The ogre roared, the sound of rage crashing through the room. Rielle didn't let it affect her, as she swiftly closed in, twisting her axe in her hand as she rammed its pointed hilt against the side of Mug'thol's knee.
The ogre roared again, but Rielle knew her blow hadn't been as effective as she wanted. Despite the mish-mash nature of the armor Mug'thol wore, not to mention the wear and tear it likely suffered from, it had managed to work and keep her from doing more then inflicting a small flesh wound.
So Rielle went ahead and inflicted ANOTHER small flesh wound, and another, stabbing at Mug'thol's knee again and again. The ogre swept around, trying to smash Rielle with his club, but the Draenei went with the motion and matched Mug'thol's turn with her own. She managed to get in six or seven stabs before she was forced to break away, ducking again as the club smashed into the wall. Surging back up, she saw the ogre twist towards her, his open hand grasping for her head.
It found her axe-head instead, as she twirled the weapon back up and thrust the blade out. Mug'thol yelled and jerked his hand away. Rielle went after the limb, twisting her axe again.
Her first mistake. Focused on the appendage and doing damage to it, she erroneously calculated that Mug'thol would try and bring the club back around to strike her in the back. He didn't. Instead, he dropped the club and swung out with his faster fist. Rielle was too slow to dodge, the giant knuckles ramming into her back and sending her crashing against the opposite wall, the Draenei only partially able to deflect the impact as she fell to one knee.
Mug'thol bellowed laughter at the sudden turnaround, even as Rielle felt nausea and weakness slam into her body. She'd fought less then thirty seconds and it felt ten times that long.
"Come here meat!" Mug'thol said, yanking up his club. With his left hand. Rielle was able to tell, with a quick glance, that said hand did not seem weaker then his right one. The damn ogre was ambidextrous. Figured.
She also knew even before his other, right hand started heading for the base of the weapon what the ogre was going to do: a two-handed roundhouse swing.
Rielle figured the ogre expected her to duck again. Instead, she willed power and strength to her muscles, standing fully to her feet.
Mug'thol swung his club.
Rielle met it with her own swing.
The impact rang through her arms, down her back, and all the way down her legs, a thousand tiny blows, but Mug'thol had clearly not anticipated the strength she possessed, even dilapidated, in her small (to him) frame. The block, however, was successful, the club deflected away from the ogre's body, and Rielle charged in, spinning herself.
The axe blade bit deep into the ogre's stomach.
But not deep enough, again. Rielle had used up too much of her lessened strength setting the strike up: she hadn't managed to fully cut through Mug'thol's armor. Worse, the ogre's recoil caused her weapon to be twisted out of her hands, trapped in the filthy metal as Mug'throl swung his free fist at her.
Rielle went low and surged forward, diving between the ogre's legs, his fist just missing her right hoof.
"RARGH, STAND STILL!" Mug'thol yelled. Had she been in a better state, Rielle might have sarcastically asked if that exclamation had EVER worked.
Instead, she twisted on her heels, dug deep for more strength, and thrust her hand forward into a palm strike, hitting Mug'thol in his right ankle as hard as she could. The ogre jerked from the strike, snarling and trying to turn around.
Which is what Rielle had wanted, immediately throwing herself on her back and lashing out with both her hooves, slamming them into the side of Mug'thol's left knee. She was certain she heard or felt something give, but all she knew was that her attack made Mug'thol lose his balance, even as she frantically rolled onto her stomach and tried to lunge out from beneath him.
She again made it, barely, the ogre crashing down behind her. It was probably fortunate that a wave of dizziness picked that time to come visit her in her head, stealing her sense of the situation as she fought to stay conscious. After a few seconds she beat it back, pushing herself back to her feet.
Her second mistake, so to speak. Her brief spell had kept her from retrieving her axe and furthering her attack, but she couldn't have predicted that. Said error had come from her not properly judging the ogre's reach.
Giant, vice-like fingers seized on her legs, yanking her backwards. Rielle immediately began struggling, but her efforts weren't enough as she was jerked up into the air, dangling upside down as Mug'thol pushed himself back up. With a chortle, he pulled the axe out of his stomach armor plate and dropped it.
"Now make good!" Mug'thol said, reaching for his club. Rielle knew full well that if he swung it into her while she was in her current position, he'd break her in half. Worse, she didn't have her knife: it had been put aside sometime during her illness and she didn't know where it was.
She didn't need it, instead rearing up and digging her nails as hard as she could into Mug'thol's hand, using the leverage to pull herself up and scour said nails as deep into the flesh as she could manage, even as she sank her teeth into Mug'thol's lower finger. The ogre roared at the sudden pain, but he didn't drop the Draenei.
Instead, he threw her. Rielle managed to complete a partial tumble before she smashed back and hip first into the wall opposite the fireplace. The impact against the floor was almost as unpleasant, searing pain and clutching dark fighting in Rielle's mind for dominance.
The pain won out, and brought with it sense. Rielle did a half-second check to see if she'd broken anything. When her self-diagnosis came back negative, she pushed herself up, rising up to her feet.
Just in time for Mug'thol to throw her axe at her.
Rielle jerked to the side, the blade of the weapon impaling into the wall. She glanced sideways, assessing with some gratitude that the move had been a reaction to her hand assault rather than a proper combat move, before turning her gaze to Mug'thol, trying to batter down the pain and weariness.
"You WILL be meal!" Mug'thol said, grabbing up his club. "Eat your guts, your bones, your face!"
"You know…this isn't exactly a fair fight." Rielle said, reaching up and yanking her axe free. "Maybe I should close my eyes?"
Mug'thol's only response was to charge and piston his club towards the Draenei like a battering ram. Rielle reared up her weapon to meet it.
Then ducked at the last second, causing Mug'thol to draw up in confusion, having been expecting a weapons-meeting. Said confusion was long enough for Rielle to crab-sprint under the club and reach the underside of the ogre's arm, where she slashed her axe up and sliced a wound into the flesh open in an exposed spot on Mug'thol's patchwork armor. The ogre thundered his pain and tried to crush Rielle under his club, and when she moved away and to her current left, tried to swing it into her.
His club hit the wall first, having been too close to said wall: Mug'thol's awareness of his surroundings was considerably less than Rielle's. In the time allotted by the ogre's wasted blow, Rielle had darted around Mug'thol's form and lashed out with her axe, opening another wound on the ogre's side. With another yell, Mug'thol swung his club around in a deadly spin, only for Rielle to duck and slash him across the back, carving open another wound.
The ogre surprised her then, as it lunged backwards instead of trying to turn, Mug'thol moving to crush her up against the wall. He wasn't fast enough; the Draenei got her axe up and braced against the ogre before he'd crossed the distance, the ogre ramming the point of the head into his own body. Lamenting his pain, Mug'thol stumbled forward; Rielle yanked her axe free and went after him, reaching him before he could turn to face her and going low, sliding between the ogre's legs and slashing her axe up into his stomach when she had reached his front.
The move didn't pay off, as the armor took the shot again. Worse, Mug'thol reacted before Rielle could follow up, slamming the club down lengthwise across the Draenei. Rielle just managed to get her weapon between her and the wood, but she still felt like she'd been partially hammered into the floor, her tortured muscles screaming at her to stop her torment of them.
Mug'thol, however, had his own torments, which is what Rielle had gone for. While the injuries she'd inflicted were superficial, they likely burned with pain, screwing up what little battle-intelligence the ogre had. Instead of grabbing at her, or kicking her, Mug'thol continued to press down on the club, trying to squeeze her into mush. And while Rielle was in a bad state, it wasn't anything she couldn't get out of.
And she did, shifting her body to the side just enough to get out from under the club, the wood slamming her axe into the ground. The abrupt cessation of a counter-force caused the ogre to lose his balance, falling forward slightly and down to one knee.
Rielle slashed her leg up and kicked the ogre in the face as hard as she could. She felt his nose break beneath her hoof, even as the ogre squealed and reared back in turn, falling on his rear. Having no time to retrieve her axe, Rielle instead leapt up and lunged forward, trying to grab onto the ogre's upper half and take out his eyes.
Her defensive reading only let her block the ogre's fist instead of dodge it, the blow knocking her away. Unfortunately, her sense of balance decided that taking direct blows in its current state was a no-no, and her dizziness allowed Mug'thol to grab up his club and swing it out, further knocking Rielle away before her feet tangled up and she fell onto her side.
Too long. She couldn't dally any more. She had to end this, before her body gave out.
Mug'thol had regained his feet just in time for Rielle to charge back in, having picked up her axe in mid-run. Her strike slashed another wound onto Mug'thol's leg before Rielle turned and took the ogre's punch on her back, stumbling forward. Mug'thol took the bait and lashed out with the club: Rielle ducked and scrambled around the ogre's side again. The ogre twisted to catch her, only to overshoot Rielle when she immediately reversed direction and ducked under the club again, getting around Mug'thol's side and sending her axe to bite deeply into the ogre's knee. Mug'thol shrieked, but the wound wasn't great (again) and Rielle knew it, the Draenei wrenching the axe out just in time to escape Mug'thol's club once more. She feinted that she was going through his legs once more before twisting away and running around the ogre. Mug'thol snarled in alarmed rage, trying to guess and counter her intent, and failing, as she didn't strike for his blind side, instead continuing to run. The two whirled around each other a few times before Mug'thol lost his temper and just began spinning around with his club.
Rielle won the game of 'tag' after two desperate dodges caused the club to strike the wall, and she made full use of it as she brought her axe down on the ogre's current weapon-hand. Mug'thol shrieked in pain once more, the club tumbling from his fingers. Rielle yanked the axe free and gathered what strength she had, going for the kill as she leapt up and aimed for Mug'thol's neck.
Her last mistake. Rielle had planned for Mug'thol's other hand to come for her, and could have deflected it and still lashed out.
She had not expected him to recover his other hand so quickly. Perhaps in all her twirling about, she'd also confused herself a bit.
The hands closed on her, trapping her arms at her sides. Three strikes, you're out.
With a snarling roar, Mug'thol smashed Rielle into the ground as hard as he could. Rielle felt the air leave her body even as the staggering pain tore through it. Despite it all, she tried to hold onto her weapon, get in a swing…
Which ended as soon as Mug'thol whirled around and smashed Rielle face-first into the wall behind him, caving a small crater in. Yanking the Draenei out, Mug'thol smashed Rielle into the rock floor again, her axe spiraling away before the ogre yanked the warrior up and, with one final bellow, hurled her across the room.
She crashed directly into the fireplace, wrecking the top portion before she came down onto the glowing embers below in a shower of sparks. The Draenei spasmed once, and then lay still.
Mug'thol grunted, wiping at his bleeding face, his teeth grit fiercely at the injuries covering his body. Despite it all, dark satisfaction had begun welling in his breast. A hard meal, but one that would taste all the sweeter for it. Fel, from the hissing noise Mug'thol heard, it had already begun to cook.
"Not strong." Mug'thol said. "Like all others. I strongest. You not."
The ogre's continued satisfaction lasted another six seconds.
Then Rielle began to move.
"…huhn?" Mug'thol said, as the Draenei rose up, small pieces of stone and soot falling off her body as she did. Drops of blood fell and boiled away on the dully-glowing embers that lay beneath Rielle's feet, the hot stones having seared some ugly burns on her lithe form.
Rielle wasn't aware of them. She wasn't aware of the multiple cracked ribs she had, or the dislocated elbow she'd popped back into place as an afterthought as she'd gotten up. Something bigger had broken within her, and for the moment it held no concept of pain, limits, or surrender.
The beast within her had slipped its chains. It no longer sought to follow directions or commands, nor serve any desires but it's own. It had been too long since it had fed.
And if it had to, it would gladly destroy its host to sate its appetite.
Strangely, one of the few things Rielle realized was that one of her horns had broken off. She only noticed a few seconds before she mostly went away again. Her fingers touched the blood pooling down from her nose and mouth, feeling its hot wetness before she traced it across the rest of her face.
"…all right then." Rielle said, her eyes blazing like a star. "Now…I'm…really…ANGRY!"