Chapter 27: Savage By Nature

Then.

To the Draenei species, Azuremyst Isle was a mixed blessing. After years of hiding in the corners of Draenor, the lush planet of Azeroth was a wondrous change…but the process of arriving there had come with a cost. The violent crash of the Exodar had caused its unique design and aspects to rain down on the island and the adjacent Bloodmyst Isle, and the potent and unnatural energies of the pieces had not had a good effect on what was considered the 'normal process' of Azeroth life. Animals, plants, land, and water had been touched and changed by the Exodar pieces, poisoning and warping them more often than not. The Draenei had immediately begun to try and reverse the inadvertent damage they had caused, but their numbers had been stretched thin by the many tasks that required their attention, and the process was slower than some would have liked. Due to the slow progress, certain rules had been laid down.

One of the stronger ones was to stay inside when it rained. The Draenei were still not certain if the Exodar-contamination had extended to the clouds, and had issued a general order to seek shelter until further notice.

It had been raining that day, but Rielle hadn't cared. She'd been about as beyond caring as she could have been as she stumbled out into the pouring water, having had no real idea of a direction and not really wanting one. All she could think about was what she had been told.

How terribly she'd been betrayed.

Her sister had heard the wind. She was one of the new breed of warrior, the shaman. Rielle had smiled to her sister's face; part of her had even meant it. But when she'd gotten away, the other side of the blade had begun to emerge.

She was alone. She'd waited so long for the Light to come to her. She'd even begun basic training in combat, hunting for her epiphany…and found only silence. And now, with Ishova finding her calling, Rielle had pushed herself to do something she'd never had the courage, and the gall, to do.

She could still feel the faint echoes of the unique impression O'ros had made on her when he'd spoken. When she'd taken a knee, almost prostrated herself before him, and asked him what she had to do to find the power within her.

He'd told her the truth. He'd told her that no matter what she did, the Light had not chosen to bless her, nor would magic. It was not her destiny. In his revelation, he had tried to comfort her.

The pain had been too much. She'd fled from his reason, his genuine care. She didn't want it. It wasn't with the Naaru that Rielle had always felt out of place with. And there was nothing the Naaru could do about why, not without drastically changing what had made them choose her people to bestow their blessings upon.

The water had long soaked her to the skin when she finally tripped and fell. Instead of getting up, she lay on her knees for a few moments before she began to scream.

Alone in the storm, no one heard her. Rielle shrieked wordless cries as she clawed at the dirt, a gibberish mess of pain and rage and betrayal. She screamed even though she knew that no answer would be provided by it, and definitely not the one she wanted, or maybe even needed.

She screamed until the other voice finally spoke.

"That's a waste of good anger."

Rielle jerked her head towards the voice, looking at the male Draenei covered in dark water-leathers, his head partially covered by a cloak. Seeing his protection, Rielle dimly became aware of how she probably looked, soaked and filthy, her hair undone and partially covering her eyes, but the far larger part of her could give any kind of damn or blessing how she looked. What did it matter? She was barren, empty.

A failure.

"Especially when it may put your life at risk." The Draenei said, reaching out a hand. "Let's get back inside."

"Leave me alone." Rielle spat.

"That wasn't a request young lad-"

"I SAID GO AWAY!" Rielle yelled, surging up and swinging her fist at the Draenei. The Draenei moved out of the way, catching Rielle's fist and twisting behind her, yanking her arm up behind her back.

"Our species has lost enough to worthy causes, child. I won't stand by and risk another loss for such a pointless one!" The Draenei said. Rielle's only response was to contort her body, using her rain-slick form to slip her wrist free and whirl around. She tackled the Draenei, pushing him down into the dirt before she started raining down fists.

She'd thrown several before her struggles finally threw the Draenei's cloak off, exposing his horrifically scarred face and missing eye. The sight of the wound finally caused Rielle to freeze up, which was all the time the Draenei needed to reach up with his leg and hook it around Rielle, yanking her off him and driving her into the ground.

"Are you in control now?" The Draenei asked. Rielle's response was to lunge up and grab for the Draenei again. It didn't work, as the Draenei took her weight and shifted his own, spinning her around and slamming Rielle against a tree, the scarred Draenei immediately pressing his forearm against her throat, cutting off Rielle's air.

"We ARE seeking shelter NOW, child. Now you can walk there, or I can drag you, but this tantrum is DONE." The Draenei said, pressing his forearm in harder. Rielle felt darkness begin to creep in at the edges of her vision, her seething rage starting to die under her more crucial needs like oxygen. Without the rage, her body lost its will to fight, and she partially slumped down before tapping the tree in a gesture of surrender. The Draenei ceased his chokehold, but new oxygen did not bring a new need for the female Draenei to continue fighting. Wordlessly, the male Draenei lead her to the nearby Azure Watch and into one of the huts located there, which was thankfully, also empty.

"Tea?" The Draenei asked.

"What does it matter?" Rielle said.

"Why do you think it doesn't?" The Draenei said.

"If you know who I am, you'll know."

"Rielle. Daughter of Irenus and Tekla." The Draenei said, sitting down in front of her and sipping from a mug.

"…And?" Rielle said.

"The only other things I know is you've had some rudimentary combat training which seems to have worked, and that you seemed to be very upset, considering your lack of proper clothing for the rain."

"The former doesn't matter and the latter you wouldn't understand." Rielle said.

"Perhaps. What I do understand is what I said before. You're running a risk of letting yourself go to waste."

"How can I go to waste when I have nothing to offer…?"

"Nothing to offer? When you made me struggle to contain you? Something not many of your fellows have done? When you got out of my disabling hold? That's all nothing?"

"It's nothing that my people want." Rielle said, lowering her head.

"Hmmmm. Perhaps." The Draenei said. "But things are changing, young lady. If you don't like what they claim, well…perhaps there will soon be other viewpoints to have. And even if not…their viewpoints can only define you as much…"

"Just stop with the empty platitudes. It's old and has been done before." Rielle said.

"Fine. I'll extend an offer instead. My latest crop of trainees will begin lessons in five days. I want you to be among them."

"…pardon?" Rielle said, raising her eyes again. "And you are?"

"I'm Melor. I teach the ways of combat for those not given the strength of the Light or the Arcane. There is power outside of those two ways, Rielle. I believe you have the potential to tap into its greatest depths."

"…oh please. Are you really trying to pull the wise mentor comes just when needed to fix the broken cynic act?"

"I can't fix you, Rielle. It's not my duty, and my interests are purely selfish. I'm not as young and as healthy as I used to be, and I want to make sure that when my time comes I've done everything possible to leave my species in good hands. And that includes not letting you throw away the skills you might have because of some pointless angst. Or worse."

"Oh really. And what could be worse, Melor?" Rielle said.

"I'm not the one sitting soaked to the skin with rain that may or may not be toxic." Melor said. Rielle glanced down, worry creasing her face. "You ran out without a thought, clearly. You let your rage completely take control. And you have a great deal of rage. There's more to learning the fight as I see it then just swinging a weapon or dodging a blow. It's about learning the rage, turning it to your side. If you don't…one day it may just eat you instead. And nothing good lies down that path."

Rielle was silent for a few seconds before she wiped her face with her hand. The rain had done well to hide her tears.

"Come. See if what I can teach you appeals. If not, leave. I won't stop you." Melor said. "What do you have to lose?"

"What do I have to gain?" Rielle said.

"You know I can't answer that." Melor said. "Tea?"

Now.

In the end, maybe her teacher hadn't given her all the answers.

Maybe he hadn't fully salved the sense of isolation and disappointment her species seemed to hold towards her. Maybe he hadn't made her feel truly comfortable within her own skin. But he had never claimed otherwise, and he had taught her a great deal about life.

And the rage. The monster living in her heart and soul. He'd been right about that, more than anything. She'd done all she could to tame it, to make it part of her. And it was.

But it would never truly change what it was, either. And now, in a truly desperate situation, one beyond virtually any kind of teaching or preparation, it was out.

Rielle wanted to live.

It wanted blood.

It was not, however, the first eruption of rage Mug'thol had ever seen. He had not risen to be overlord of the Crushridge Clan by chance. He had faced anger before, many times, from his own kind and all the smaller ones, and smashed it to a pulp.

So when Rielle let out an ear-piercing cry and charged at him, he merely got his club ready and prepared to tenderize his meat some more, Rielle diving in mid-run for her axe…

Then somersaulting as she did so, pulling the axe along with her and hurling it through the air. It spun in a deadly arc…one that missed Mug'thol entirely, the weapon flying past his arm. It served, however, to distract the ogre and allow Rielle to close in again.

Mug'thol thought he'd seen rage in his life.

He hadn't seen anything yet.

Rielle seized her hands on the damaged piece of armor that Mug'thol had strapped to his stomach, pulling at the cracked and worn leather straps as hard as she could. Mug'thol yelled in surprise again, before hammering Rielle with a punch that briefly knocked her to her knees. Mug'thol tried to position his club to follow up the blow, and again re-discovered that with Rielle so close to him, he couldn't swing it to hit her.

A problem he fixed by grabbing Rielle and hurling her backwards. Snorting crude laughter, he brought the club back and lashed out with it again, going low to break the Draenei's legs.

Mug'thol's brilliant idea to keep Rielle from ducking his attack didn't work, as she simply jumped over it instead, closing back in. She was barely aware of the crippling injury she had just avoided, nor the methods she'd used to prevent it. Her mind had long dissolved into the snapping, vicious tangle of her rage, and all her thoughts were undeviating in their goal.

RIP AND TEAR! RIP AND TEAR HIS GUTS!

Rielle seized onto the armor stomach plate and yanked again with all her strength, Mug'thol utterly flabbergasted at the Draenei going from using tricks to not doing so. Unfortunately for Mug'thol, his armor's far-from-pristine leather straps picked that time to give up the ghost, Rielle tearing the armor piece free.

HE IS HUGE! THAT MEANS HE HAS HUGE GUTS!

Mug'thol's latest punch also met with failure, as the Draenei yanked up the piece of armor she'd torn off and used it as a makeshift shield, blunting the ogre's blow even as the Draenei dropped the armor and lanced out with her hand, going for the small wound her axe had made where it had cut through the armor.

RIP AND TEAR!

Mug'thol roared in pain and the ogre version of alarm as Rielle sank her nails into the cut and both forced and yanked at the wound, trying to drill her fingers deeper into his torso even as she also tried to make the injury bigger. Mug'thol's retaliation was swift and brutal, the ogre bringing his free fist down onto the Draenei, and again, and again, trying to get the out of control alien to stop her attempted disemboweling. That, at least, was successful, the ogre managing to stop Rielle's attack and smash her back onto her knees…

At which point she slithered around him and began doing the exact same thing to another cut on his back. Mug'thol bellowed again and twisted around, trying to get the nearly-psychotic alien off of him. Rielle seized onto Mug'thol's clothing and rode out the effort, fresh blood spraying on her face as she raked and tore at the injury.

"RARGGGHHHH!" Mug'thol yelled, lurching around before a plan bloomed in his less-than-optimal brain. The move hadn't worked the first time, but his enemy no longer had her weapon!

So Mug'thol repeated himself, charging backwards into the nearest wall. This time, it worked, and Mug'thol drove every bit of momentum his mass could utilize to hammer the Draenei into the rock. He felt his enemy's body fall, and in the most graceful move an ogre could really do, he hooked his foot around her and kicked Rielle across the room before she could spring back up and resume her attack.

The Draenei lay still, blue blood leaking onto the floor around her. Mug'thol almost immediately went after her, and then in another rare thinking move, instead brought his club up and tried to smash her where she lay. The alien moved at the last second and sprang back up, the rage ever-burning on her face.

"Kill youuuuuuu…" Rielle rasped, crouching down. A swing from Mug'thol's club kept her away, the Draenei weaving away and moving to charge again. In a first for Mug'thol, a glance at the wall behind him caused him to have, again for the first time in his life, three good ideas in a row. With his back placed against the stone, the Draenei couldn't get around him with her sneakiness, forcing her to attack him at his front, where he was superior.

"So you think you strong? You savage?" Mug'thol said, indicating his wounds before gesturing with his club. "This nothing! YOU nothing!"

"Heard THAT beforeeeee…" Rielle said. "DIDN'T LIKE IT THEN AND SURE DON'T NOW."

Rielle's charge was interrupted by Mug'thol's club again, the ogre lashing out with a mighty swing and driving the alien back. Mug'thol swung the club back and forth a few more times, continuing to hold Rielle at bay.

"What's wrong? Scarrreedd…?" Rielle said.

"MUG'THOL SCARED OF NOTHING! STRONGEST OF CRUSHRIDGE, OF OG-!" Mug'thol thundered, lashing out with his club.

Even as Rielle leapt up and landed on it, sprinting down its length.

Right into Mug'thol's trap, as he immediately dropped his weapon. Rielle didn't notice, lancing in to claw at his injured stomach, causing her to instead run into the ogre's now free hand. Mug'thol was no genius, but he knew that if he let his enemy get in too close he was at risk. But if he let her get a little close, and held her at range…

She was his. Mug'thol clamped his fingers down and lashed out, smashing his fist into Rielle's face. The Draenei shrieked, clawing at his hand that held her, trying to break through, but the ogre held his grip as he hammered on Rielle with his other fist, blow after blow. After several, he felt the pressure on his hand lessen. After a few more, the Draenei fell down to her knees before him.

Mug'thol didn't stop, smashing his fist down on the Draenei's back and shoulders a few more times before she was finally face-down in the dust. Breathing heavily, the ogre finally released his grip.

At which point Rielle surged up and seized her own, shoving her hand under Mug'thol's armor and seizing onto a delicate part of his anatomy.

The scream the ogre made would have almost been comical had Rielle not currently been viewing everything through a red haze, her fingers crushing and twisting the ogre's testicles as hard as she could. Mug'thol hammered a few more punches down on Rielle's body, blows made even stronger by pain and desperation, but they did not cause the Draenei to relinquish her grip. Unfortunately, Rielle's effective attack had completely tunneled her vision: instead of trying to exploit any opening her effort had caused, she had focused entirely on turning what was in her hand to mush…

It proved her undoing, as Mug'thol had his last good idea and stopped trying to move Rielle, instead moving himself forward, scooping up the warrior and, with a desperate, furious roar, charged across the room and smashed Rielle into the wall as hard as he could.

The impact again jarred the Draenei loose, but Mug'thol didn't let her fall to the ground again, instead pulling back and ramming the Draenei into the wall once more.

Rielle responded by reaching up and punching the ogre in the face as hard as she could. Fresh pain shot through Mug'thol's broken nose, but all it did was cause him to recoil off the wall and charge across the room again, Rielle punching him in the face all the way.

The second impact briefly made her hand fall…before it snaked back up and seized onto the crude piece of armor Mug'thol had strapped to his right shoulder. Mug'thol's response was to turn around and barrel across the room once more, driving Rielle into the wall with ever-greater bone-crushing force. Rielle held her grip.

So Mug'thol turned and charged across the room again. Blue blood splashed against the ogre's face from the impact, but Rielle held onto the armor. When Mug'thol turned and finally smashed Rielle back onto the floor, the armor piece went with her.

A victory at a high cost, as Mug'thol violently stomped on her as hard as he could. Then, for good measure, he did it again before stepping back, staring at the Draenei's limp form.

A few seconds later, Rielle began to move. Despite all her body had suffered, the rage refused to die. All the hours, days, weeks, months of training had been for moments like this, when the body had been pushed to limits sane people would never contemplate. She'd endured it all to forge herself into a weapon…

But every weapon breaks.

Especially when furious ogres brought their clubs down on them.

"SMASH!" Mug'thol roared, having picked up his weapon and done just that. The ceiling kept the ogre from doing a full-power overhead swing, but the ogre by now was so angry that he didn't really need the extra windup: he took the room he had and used it against the Draenei.

"CRUSH! KILL! DIE!" The ogre bellowed, as he brought his weapon down on the alien again and again, like a pile driver, hammering Rielle until the wounds on Mug'thol's arms would not let him swing any more. The feat of being so exhausted that he couldn't fight was new to Mug'thol, but he wasn't stupid enough to resist it, finally ceasing his blows.

"…hah. Hah hah." Mug'thol said, drawing back his club and looking at the remains of his enemy. He poked the Draenei's body with the end of his club a few times anyway: the alien did not stir. Mug'thol snorted, and then grimaced as the many pains of his body reminded him of their presence. The cost in blood the warrior had taken from him.

But it didn't matter. Ogres were the strongest of all creatures, and Mug'thol was strongest of ogres. He would heal quickly. Better yet, when he brought the head of the enemy who had killed so many of his clan, said clan would forever be under his sway, no one willing to challenge his strength. And in his castle, his once more, he would roast his foe and eat well…

Rielle began to move. In her motion, Mug'thol abruptly became aware of just how much his wounds still hurt.

The ogre grit his teeth, and almost resumed smashing the Draenei before his arms lodged a protest. Said pain caused the ogre to realize just how slowly the warrior was moving. She might have been getting up, but she was getting up at such a sluggish pace an amateur warrior could have struck a killing blow twenty times over. Even so, Mug'thol felt anger rising back up in him. How could this meat endure so much? How could something so small be so stubborn in dying?

Enough was enough. Hammering repeatedly, again, on this meat was not the answer. Mug'thol was going to do what he did best and would have done much better had the confines of the room not hemmed him in. He was going to swing a full-power blow directly into the Draenei and knock her head right off.

"Herh. Not again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on... you again! Fool me three times, and you is smart. Four times? You not that smart!*" Mug'thol said, drawing both hands to his club's base. Rielle had, by now, fully stood up, but her gaze had not returned to Mug'thol, instead drifting off to the side as if she wasn't even aware the ogre was there. Mug'thol thought he might have heard the Draenei say something, but it was too quiet for him to make out.

"Why still speak words? Words nothing. Small words, from small teeth. Matter not." Mug'thol said. "What you in end? Nothing but meat. DIE."

Mug'thol drew his arms back to his left and lashed out, the club whistling towards the Draenei.

It did not strike her head. Instead, Rielle threw up her arm, the club impacting against her palm. Instead of resisting and causing her arm to be crushed, Rielle immediately let her muscles go loose, her arm folding up and the club's impact shifting down it and to her body at large as she dug her hooves in, the club dragging her across the floor as Rielle bled all its strength and momentum out by countering it with her own.

She should have been dead. She should have been broken. But Rielle had been hearing what she SHOULD have been her whole life.

She'd learned to defy expectations, as she turned her blazing eyes back to the ogre, Mug'thol standing in stunned amazement that Rielle had stopped his strongest blow cold.

"EAT ME."

Rielle turned and brought her other arm down, smashing her elbow into the length of Mug'thol's club, the badly battered tree finally giving up the ghost and shattering to pieces from the precise blow. Mug'thol stumbled backwards in shock from the abrupt disintegration of his weapon, his eyes wide in stunned, uncomprehending surprise…

Even while Rielle snatched one of the pieces of wood that had flown into the air from the near-explosion of the club's demise and charged the final time.

Mug'thol roared in agony as the Draenei drove the length of wood into his stomach wound, the spike piercing through the flesh and muscles and impaling through his guts. His fists crashed down on Rielle, but the Draenei stood her ground and violently twisted the spear back and forth, fresh blood drenching her arms as she did, the ogre's roaring becoming a high-pitched shriek before his hands closed on Rielle's head.

Rielle slipped free, grabbed one of Mug'thol's fingers, and nearly tore it right off his hand. The new torment caused Mug'thol to stumble forward, almost falling on top of the Draenei…who grabbed onto Mug'thol's arms and yanked. The ogre fell to one knee, and Rielle leapt into the ogre's arms and pulled herself up onto his shoulders. Snarling, Mug'thol reached for her, only for Rielle to rake his eyes and draw his hand away in an instinctive reaction to the pain.

Pain. The oldest, best way to create an opening.

"YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT I AM?" Rielle yelled, pulling herself over to Mug'thol's exposed shoulder. "I'M A PAIN IN THE NECK!"

And with every last bit of strength she had, Rielle yanked Mug'thol's head to the side and sank her teeth into the throbbing veins of the ogre's flesh.

Mug'thol screamed, his hands grabbing at the Draenei, but Rielle held on like the mosquito from hell and continued to bite, pull, and rip away at the side of the ogre's throat. Blood exploded into her face, blinding her eyes and running down her throat, but she barely noticed, only wanting to bite deeper, harder, fiercer. Finally, she clamped onto a piece of gristle she couldn't chew through and yanked back her head, ripping out a fist-sized chunk of the ogre's neck and turning the blood spray into a fountain. Blinking sight back into her eyes, hardly even aware of the ogre's attempted defense which had by now turned into a futile attempt to cover the wound she'd made, Rielle's gaze seized onto the proud, singular horn on top of Mug'thol's moments before her hand did, her clenching fingers grabbing firmly onto the protrusion and pulling with all her might. Flesh tore and bone broke, as Rielle ripped the horn right off the top of Mug'thol's head, a small jeweled crown flying off unnoticed in the process.

Mug'thol staggered, his brain a mass of pain, his groping having grown weak. Rielle almost fell off the ogre's back, but held on even as she turned the horn over in her hand.

With one last swing, she buried it into the ogre's ragged neck wound. Mug'thol's cry was so soft, Rielle almost didn't hear it.

Then her own scream filled the room, as she reared back her head and smashed it down on the horn's end, driving the point deep into Mug'thol's body with one final spray of blood. The move nearly knocked her senseless, and her grip faded as she fell off the ogre's back, bouncing and coming to a stop some distance away.

Mug'thol managed one last lurching grasp, dull confusion in his eyes. What had…just…happened…?

The sound of the ogre's collapsing form seemed to reverberate through the whole castle, and then Mug'thol moved no more.

Silence settled over the war zone, save for the faint noise of the storm outside.

Silence that was finally broken by ragged breathing, as Rielle crawled over to the nearest wall and used it to drag herself up. Somehow, she found she could still stand. Still walk, as she slowly crept over to Mug'thol's body.

For a moment, the Draenei stood there, breathing slowly and deeply, looking at her handiwork, before she closed her eyes.

Looked at what lay within her, and what it had done.

The beast was sated. It had returned to its cage and her service, well-pleased by what it had been granted. Content that it had allowed its 'host' to live another day, to grant her the power and the drive to win despite all she had endured.

A small part of Rielle's mind cried out what it had made of her, but it was a quiet voice, only there as a reminder. In her heart of hearts, Rielle felt okay.

This was who she was. Part of it was ugly, but what drove it was not.

The fact she had a life worth living.

Something shifted inside her mouth. Rielle blinked at the sensation, then flexed her cheek before turning her head, spitting out a chunk of ogre onto the floor before turning the once-again soft glow of her eyes onto her vanquished enemy.

"…small words, Mugthol? No. Just one." Rielle said. "Victory."