Author's Note: I don't, under any circumstances, own the game World of Warcraft, its works, nor any other such related works/games/books. I make no profit from this story.
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Chapter Two: Confusion.
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I burned. Aching, blistering heat swept relentlessly over me. My body shivered from the chills caused by my sweat. My head hurt. Every heartbeat made me nauseous from a new wave of pain buffeting my senses, hitting me worst behind my eyes and in my joints. Every breath I took was laced with agony.
My throat itched, my tonsils swollen, fighting the chill that I'd managed to catch. I noticed I was still lying on the ground. My left side ached from where it was pressed against the hard earth. I could smell the damp, dark soil. It did nothing to soothe my stomach.
I winced as I took in another pained breath, too deeply, and my belly strained against the waistband of my shorts, jolting the shards of glass still there. The site of the wound itched and felt far too hot. My eyes stung, caked in salt and sleep from the crying I'd done and the time I'd spent unconscious. They felt swollen. I tried to open the lids but they felt too heavy. A frustrated whimper stole from my throat.
It hurt. I hurt, everywhere. I began to shudder. My fingers dug into the dirt below me, tearing out blades of grass with each pain-induced spasm. I moaned softly, trying not to cry, failing when tears sprung up from my left eye and trailed down into my hair, leaving chilling damp at my temples. My eyelids squeezed shut even more as the salty moisture seeped out from underneath.
Suddenly, there was a break in the stillness. My right eye cracked open at the sound of boots scuffing on the ground. A foot appeared in front of me, followed by a knee. I saw a large, clawed hand reach out to me.
Startled, my eyelids snapped all the way open and I tried to move back. I failed, groaning and baring my teeth as my body screamed in pain. My pulse boomed in my ears, every thump sending me more hurt. The hand gently touched my forehead, the fingers blessedly cool. A soft voice spoke, a male voice. I couldn't understand what he was saying.
They sighed and tutted, removing the hand. Quickly, he stood up and moved out of my line of sight, leaving me to think he'd left. He hadn't.
Without warning I was picked up like a child. I cried out when the shards of glass moved in the wound on my stomach. He cradled me gently, one strong arm wrapping around my torso and another supporting my legs, pressing me against him.
I flopped boneless in his arms, my head lolling against his shoulder. We began to move. His stride was strong, his footsteps light and he walked almost like a ninja, and I could barely hear him. I sucked in a breath at a surprise jolt of pain shooting through my left flank. In my delirium I caught a comforting whiff of lavender.
'Who is he?' I wondered, swaying with the movement of his gait, 'What's happened to me? Where am I? What's going to happen to me?'
Apprehension trickled through me when I thought of that. I had no idea where I was, no clue as to what happened to me. For all I know I could've pulled over, gone down that forestry trail and go through every pill or prescription item I had. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time I'd done something like that. I whimpered at the memory, bitterness filling my mouth and my gag reflex slowly kicked in.
To keep myself from going loopy, I wracked my brains for any clue as to what happened before I passed out. Nothing. My forehead creased in a frown, betraying my confusion and discomfort at the matter. It was almost as if there was a rift in my mind, a gap where something important should be.
'I must have amnesia,' I thought.
After a while of walking, for how long I don't know, we stopped. The steady rhythm of my rescuer's breathing changed to a deep hum as he spoke. The sound was oddly comforting.
'He's got a lovely voice' I mused. My brain felt full of mush.
A flurry of questions responded in a language I couldn't understand, sounding agitated. I winced when I was moved and placed gently on my back, onto something soft. I moved my head slightly, regretting it the instant I felt agony shoot down my spine. I sucked in a breath, choking on a cough, moisture clouding my eyes. From a pained squint I could just about make out an amber glow to my right, followed by a wave of heat and the smell of soot and burning.
My hands opened and closed, fingers flexing, teeth gritting as I tried to distract myself from the raging pain threatening to take me over. I wanted to ask something, who my rescuer was, but I choked on phlegm and smoke.
'It's not like they can understand me,' I thought bitterly, wincing again as I breathed, 'I'm either in a drug-laced stupor or somebody's hit me over the head and I'm dreaming.'
Maybe I'd just lost too much blood and my imagination was just running away with me again. Yes, that was probably it. A figure kneeled down to my left, cupping my face in their hands and tilting it towards them. The chill from their touch was comforting, in an odd way. I blinked, attempting to clear my eyes from the fluid which was irritating my vision.
Perspiration sprung up from my pores as a sudden wave of heat swept over me from both the campfire and my own burning body. I shuddered, my belief that I was hallucinating became even more profound when I stared blearily into the face of the one who was frowning down at me.
Glowing eyes, a mix of silver and amber, pierced my own from a wild, angular face. His skin was ashen blue, his features stunning, all cheekbones and jaw. A full mouth was currently pursed in concentration as he examined me. Turquoise hair crowned his regal head, part of it tied back but tendrils here and there escaped and flopped over his high forehead and tangled in his long, wild eyebrows.
Poking out of his hair, flopping hilariously, were a pair of ears. Long, pointy, absurd even, but they were there. I had the most ridiculous urge to touch them, although at that very moment I barely had the strength to lift my head let alone my two arms.
Swept by a sense of déjà vu, I nearly missed what he had to say. He spoke again, the tone indicating a question. I opened my mouth to speak, nothing but a harsh croak escaping.
My body felt heavy, my head flopping against the rough fabric of the blanket beneath me when he released my face to lift up my T-shirt. He let out a cry of shock when he saw the blood, the glass and the torn flesh in my belly. I suddenly felt exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and never wake up again.
The world seemed to fade away. The pointy eared tie-dyed man in front of me panicked, noticing my heavy eyelids droop and close, slapping my face in an attempt to rouse me. I heard him but it sounded hollow, distant. I could barely feel my own skin, let alone the slaps he was putting on me.
'It's all a bad dream,' a soothing voice assured me, my consciousness slipping away more and more, 'go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be alright again.'
I smiled, or at least I think I did. That sounded nice. No worries, no more of my family hating me, no more abuse. That sounded perfect. My limbs went numb, my thoughts slowed down, I couldn't smell, taste or feel anything.
I saw nothing but darkness. The only sounds I could hear was the panicked dialogue between Flop-ears and his companion, and even that exchange was becoming muffled and fading away. The last few decibels tickled my ears and then…nothing.
I felt myself drift, weightless, nothing around me but a soothing blanket of numbness. I had no worries, no thoughts. I was content to float about forever.
A feeling niggled at the back of my empty mind. I frowned, or at least, I felt myself frown. That feeling was….familiar. Strong, primal, an instinct almost. I pushed it to the back of my mind, out of the way, not wanting it to disturb my peace. Sentiment was a pest I would be glad to be rid of.
The emotion refused to be contained, however, straining against my mental constraints and forcing me to acknowledge it. Growling, I attempted to ignore it, pointedly thinking of something else. Damn, now I'm thinking again. I tried in vain to slip back into that ignorant, blissful state. The feeling struck out again, forcing me to pay attention, to think, to remember.
'Remember what happened,' a small voice whispered, faint and coming from somewhere deep within me, 'don't let them fool you. You need to see.'
I did see, or rather, I felt it; Fear.
Once again it choked my throat, trickled through my veins and seized my limbs. My thoughts jumbled and scrambled like a can of worms, wriggling and squirming about, none making any sense nor appearing to start or finish anywhere. I saw, once again, the demon attack. The maniacal grin slicing through its ruddy face, the cloven hooves and lime green eyes burning with unholy fire.
I felt the grit under my palms, tasted the blood from my bitten lip. I heard its diabolical laugh, my own frantic voice, far too high and fast, praying. I felt the energy gather up for a fatal blow before the creature decided to finish me off.
The yell of rage, of hunger, so fierce it was a battle cry. The sound of metal slicing through flesh, unholy screams of agony, cries of exertion. The meaty thud as the body fell, the life cleaved from it. I remembered the way he stood, the way he tried to help me up. I remembered chasing him out into the moonlight, startled by his beauty and also his wretchedness.
I saw his face once more, the high, sharp cheekbones, and the strong jaw. The flowing blue that was his hair, as if he wore the evening sky on his crown and around his shoulders. The ram's horns curling around his face gleamed brightly under the stars. Finally, burning into me so I saw nothing else; the green fire of his eyes.
I felt frozen in place, caught up in that stare. Green fire, vivid, alive; there was nothing but that haunting jade.
He turned and left, walking away. I made to follow him, unable to move my feet. I frowned, looking down. There were roots entangling themselves around my ankles, creeping up my legs towards my knees. I tried to yank my foot out, looking up again to the figure retreating off into the distance. My arm went up, my hand reaching out to him. The edges of my vision began to crack, the picture fading.
"Wait!" I gasped, my eyes springing open, my arm up. But it was the star-studded sky I was looking at, not my mysterious rescuer. My legs were held down by hands, not roots, the figure crouching over them was hidden from the firelight.
I glanced to my left, Flop-ears still there, his hands glowing a soft brownish-green, a phantom cluster of leaves swirling around them. He had them hovering over my belly. I only realised then that my T-shirt was pulled all the way up to my chin and the waistband of my shorts had been undone, the garments and my underwear pulled down practically to my groin.
I squealed, immediately moving to cover myself. Flop-ears seemed to notice this and he snapped at someone behind me. Slender but strong hands grabbed my wrists and clamped them back down on either side of me. I looked up to see a very beautiful, yet strange face hover a little above my own.
'I must still be dreaming.'
Flop-ears muttered something to himself, glancing over at me. I felt unease squirm in my gut at the look on his face. I may not know what he was saying but he had the universal 'I'm-sorry-but-this-won't-go-well' look plastered all over that ashen face of his.
My mouth opened to question him when I suddenly had an agonised howl ripped out of me, my eyes clamping shut. I squinted at him, tears springing up.
He had an apologetic look on his face. In one of his large hands, slicked with blood, was a jagged shard of glass. I felt lightheaded, sick almost as I went back from looking at the ragged mess of skin in my belly, to the offending foreign body in his grasp. He reached down to my wound again, making to remove more of the glass. My eyes widened, my breath quickened, becoming heavier and I made a whimpering noise at the back of my throat.
'Don't touch me!'
My shoulders bucked up, fighting against the hold on me from above. I flailed, my hips bucking, trying to yank my legs out from the grip of whoever was pinning them down.
"No," I rasped, "stop it. It hurts. It hurts. It HURTS!"
I screamed when I felt the last few pieces of the glass come out, tearing into my flesh and worrying the already-mangled tissue. My scream turned into broken whimpering and hiccupping sobs as I slumped, no longer fighting the restraints on me.
I barely registered Flop-ears' hands glowing again. I just stared up at the stars winking above, wishing for the pain to go away. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes down the sides of my face, tickling my ears. I breathed in and out harshly in pained gasps, hiccupping every now and again.
The weight on my wrists left, the blond woman above me moving back and out of my field of vision. Shakily, my hands moved up to where the hem of my T-shirt was, yanking it back down to cover my bloodstained midriff. I noticed then that there was no pain anymore. Sitting up, I pressed my hands against my belly in shock. My head no longer hurt, nor did the rest of my limbs.
"What in the?" I pulled my T-shirt up, running my palm over the now-smooth skin in wonderment.
There was nothing remaining of the wound except for a mass of congealed blood. I raised my eyes to Flop-ears.
"How?" I whispered.
He gave me a blank stare, those pale golden eyes showing only confusion. My head drooped, accompanied by a sigh from deep within my chest in the realization that nothing I said would get through. Exhausted, but no longer in pain, I fell backwards onto the soft blanket.
'Nothing but babble, remember?' I told myself, my mind beginning to drift as I listened to Flop-ears gab away with a husky, feminine voice.
My eyes closed as I laid there. From the depths of my mind, I could feel the minute tendrils of panic, despair and fear worm their way up to the surface. I drew in a deep breath of cool night air, delving through my mind for something to calm myself down.
A memory emerged with the smell of horse, honeysuckle and soft summer grass. Golden sun rained down in heavenly shafts of light as I sat up on Pooka, riding him through the woods.
Sleepy chirrups and liquid birdsong flowed through the trees, back and forth, their drowsy conversations soft on my ears. Pooka's coarse mane tangled in my fingers as we cantered along the forestry trail. I felt his power even through the saddle as we bounded along without a worry in the world. After we returned and I hosed down his steaming body, he'd nibble my shoulder or lip my hair. He wouldn't leave the gate after releasing him into the field until I gave him something to munch on.
I'd always have a mint or a few slices of apple to give him, loving the way his velvety muzzle daintily plucked them from the palm of my hand. Oh how I wished for those simple days.
Just as the cracks began to appear in the memory, my attention was brought back to my body. My eyes snapped open, pupils contracting in the bright light which suddenly came into being above me. I hissed, shielding my face with my hands, the radiance burning. A soft, slender hand gently but effortlessly parted my meagre barricade. I felt the tip of a finger touch the middle of my forehead, just above my eyes, completely centred.
I felt as though someone had reached inside my cranium and unravelled my brain.
An itchiness, confusion and a jolting tingle crept right down my spine and wriggled under my skin caused me to cry out in alarm and bewilderment. Unease and discomfort were all I felt. My face screwed up, eyes squinting and teeth bared as I tried to work out what exactly was happening. As quickly as it came, the weird sensation disappeared, leaving me reeling. My body froze, stiff as a board for a few seconds.
"What the fuuu-" I slurred, staring blearily up at the star-studded sky, "Jay-sus. The feck? I feel like my brain's turned into bloody scrambled egg."
I pulled myself up with a grunt, my hand clamping over my eye. The contents of my brain felt like they were about to slosh right out from my ears. I was nearly wretched with the dizziness.
"And she speaks Common. Wonderful."
I let out an unsightly hoot from surprise at the sudden voice behind me. Trying and failing at an owl impersonation, I twisted my head and upper body around to look at whoever had just spoken.
"What did you say?" I asked, still slurring slightly. I frowned lopsidedly, "Wait, you can understand me?"
"Indeed I can young lady," The owner of the voice, a very well-built man who appeared to be in his late thirties, answered me.
I squinted at him, my brain still feeling like squishy noodles. He was human, that was for sure, but he looked as though he'd just stepped out of a Knights Templar documentary.
Heavy-looking well-polished plate armour encased his body in a protective silver and gold-trimmed shell. Draped around his shoulders was a pale cloak of slippery-looking material, probably silver, which reflected the ruddy tones from the fire.
Chin-length wheaten hair, the top half of which was tied back from his face, sprawled messily around his face. He cocked his head, his left cheek catching the light. I gasped softly at the sight of a brutal row of scars which slashed all the way from his hairline to his Adam's apple. They looked as though they were caused by claws of some sort.
He was sitting on a moss-covered log, polishing a wicked and heavy-looking claymore. The blade winked in the light, the wine-coloured hues of the flames bathing it in a bloody glow, making it gleam wickedly. I supressed a shiver at the thought of how many had already felt the bite of that sword cutting through them.
"Wait, so what were you saying before?" I asked, shifting my weight slightly and trying to cover up the fact that I'd been staring.
"I was speaking in plain Common," he put down the cloth and looked me dead in the eyes, "I don't know what nonsense you were spewing but it weren't like any I'd ever heard in my life." His speech was slightly hoarse, but he had one of those rough, hardy voices. It actually reminded me of one of the lads back home.
"Common?" I raised an eyebrow, still not staring, or trying not to stare, at his scars, "never heard of it."
"Oh come on," he flung his arms out either side of him, "you're from Azeroth, aren't ya?"
I blinked rapidly, squinting in confusion.
'Oh Christ,' I cocked my head, missing the question, 'he has a blind eye!'
"Say, say that again?"
"Say what?" He looked confused.
"Where I'm supposed to be from." My brain was mixed up.
He looked at me like I was retarded before replying, "Azeroth."
'The feck has this chap been smoking?'
My jaw dropped and a befuddled "huh?" emerged. "Aza-where?"
This time he blinked, only slowly, like an owl. He craned his neck and looked past me, calling out to one of the figures by the fire.
"Hey, Bluey!" A gauntleted hand pointed in my direction, "Are ya sure you healed this one right? I think you forgot her brain."
I bristled. Puffing up like an angry cat, I was ready to give him a solid tongue-lashing when I became distracted by a sudden, large person who plonked themselves in front of me. A calloused, cool hand grabbed my chin, eerily glowing eyes meeting my own. I squealed like a stuck pig, jerking my face free from Flop-ears' grip and falling backwards onto my elbows.
"The feck are you doing, you flop-eared nub?" I spat, glaring up at him, daring him to touch me again.
His mouth hardened into a thin line, those feathery eyebrows drew together in a furious 'V,' making him look more formidable. I gulped, but didn't quit my glare.
"For someone who would have died on the roadside without my intervention, you have a very odd way of showing gratitude." He had a funny accent, I noticed.
He leaned down, placing his left arm to one side of me, his other hand reaching out towards me, making me tense up again. I was also uncomfortably aware at how he was pseudo-straddling me. Apprehension knotted my stomach up at the weight of him bearing down on me. I began to wriggle about so as to get away. He didn't take too kindly to it.
"What's the matter with you?" He muttered frustratedly, leaning forwards even more. I hissed and tried to bite his hand as he moved it to my face again, "you're acting as if you've never seen an elf before."
"Get the fuck away from me!" I exclaimed, pushing on his chest and attempting to fling him from me. When that didn't work I wiggled my arse backwards along the ground and out from underneath him.
My breath quickened as panic began to set in, "Go away! You're not real. This isn't real!"
I moved away yet again, turning my back on the blue man with the funny ears and the shadowy figures of the rest of the group. A choked sob escaped me as I curled up in a ball and shielded my body with my arms. I began to shake, all the events leading up to now churning in my mind, the memories filling me with prickling dread, causing alarm and misery to slough through me.
'My God, what did I do to deserve this? Where the Hell am I and how the fuck do I get home?'
I went immobile at a hand gently touching my back.
"It's alright," a rolling, husky female voice cooed, "we won't hurt you. We only want to help you."
I kept my head in my hands.
"How do I know I won't be hurt?" I asked plaintively, "I don't know where I am or what's going on or what's even-"
I broke off, a terrified keen building up in my throat. My shoulders shook as I silently bawled my eyes out.
"Hush, hush child," the woman sounded distressed, her odd accent even more prominent, "there's no need to cry. If we wanted to hurt you we would have done so already. But you're safe now, yes?"
"Y-yes," I sniffled. I began to calm down a little at the soothing motions of the hand gently rubbing my back.
"Will you come back to the fire?" She cooed softly, "We can all sit down together and talk this over, hmm?"
I nodded.
"Good." She sounded happy with the decision.
I slowly lifted my head from my hands, wiping the tears from my eyes and wondering when the Hell I'd become such a cry-baby. Not forgetting my manners, I turned to thank her for her kindness.
Big mistake.
As soon as I laid eyes on her, I felt petrified. My heart stopped, my blood turned to ice and my eyes widened so much they nearly popped out of their sockets. The corners of my mouth twinged from how widely my mouth was stretched open. I sucked in a quick, startled breath.
Only seconds after that I let out a scream that would put a banshee to shame, hurting even my tonsils as near to one hundred decibels ripped through the night. As soon as I started, I leaped up, still shrieking, and ran into the dark. The same thought bounced around in my brain-box;
'It's a demon. It's a demon! It's a DEMON!'
Like any good little Catholic girl, I made to get as far away from the no-no as possible. In this case, the no-no being a demonic-looking humanoid creature. After a good five minutes of racing away and squealing, I slowed down a little, shutting my gob and stopping the scream. I was blinded by the substantial lack of light and my own overwhelming fear.
That's when I went over the edge.
My arms flailed, my legs pumped, boots scuffing on the rough ground. I couldn't see or feel the cliff edge, and was taken aback when, expecting solid ground to meet with my foot, I was instead presented with open space.
"Fuck! Fuck!" I tried to stop, my limbs whirling around like a windmill as I tried to find something to grab a hold of. "No, no, no! Shit HELP MEEEEEE…..."
I screamed aloud again, freefalling. Bracing myself against either sharp rocks, hard ground or water, I was surprised when I hit something soft. The soft thing screeched. I was shocked to find that the one soft thing was actually a large number of soft things. Quickly as I could manage, I rolled away from them, the moon disappearing into the clouds, plunging everywhere into darkness.
"Ouch," I winced, picking myself up from the ground, leaning my back against a rough, solid something. Probably a boulder.
The clouds then decided to stop harassing the moon and as the wraith-like, silvery rays lit up the area I felt my stomach sink down into the topsoil. It was at that moment that I knew, I fucked up.
Amassed in front of me was a colony of feather-cats. They screeched and squawked at each other. Some were perched on the cliff I'd just fallen off, others were grouped directly in front of me. In my peripheral vision I could see even more creeping from both sides, moving to corner me at the boulder. All were watching me, all were bristling and all of them looked pissed as hell.
So, I did what any sensible person would do.
I ran.
I shot out and away from the boulder and the parrot-cats as if the Devil himself was after me. Behind me I could hear enraged screeching and a stampede of angry footprints. My lungs burned, my arms and legs pumped in a desperate attempt to escape the nasties.
'What in the fuck are those creatures anyway?' I cried to myself, 'Did someone have a field day in a Lab somewhere after snorting Rainbow Dust? Why would you even think of making something that bizarre?'
In a moment of idiocy I glanced over my shoulder. In doing so I tripped and flew for a couple of feet before mushing my face into the ground. The force was so great that I bounced and tumbled for another short while until I came to rest, dazed. Then I heard the rapid footfalls and squawking cacophony and I was dazed no more.
It was a struggled to regain my footing. I went stumbling and lurching all over the place. I looked behind me again and my blood froze. They were nearly upon me.
"Oh God," I whined, scrambling up again and taking off, "please don't let them get me!"
I hadn't made it three feet before my ankle gave under me with a sickening snap and I fell, screaming, as hot agony sparked up my leg and throbbed behind my eyes, making me see stars. I made to stand, but I couldn't. The pain was too much. My back prickled in anticipation of claws and beaks ripping into my flesh.
I closed my eyes, bowing my head and waiting for my torment to ensue. I was expecting to be feather-cat munchies, to be killed viciously and torn to bits. I definitely wasn't expecting to be picked up by a massive bird.
"Holy shit!" I yelled in shock as I was grasped by my shoulders by gargantuan talons and lifted up, high into the air. "Let me go you fecking feather duster!"
I wriggled and squirmed in its grasp. My hands automatically clutched onto the rough skin of the raptor's feet, trying to detach them from my shoulders. The grip on me was like that of iron and the bird still went higher and higher.
'I might have to slip out of my T-shirt to escape, like they do in the movies,' I thought, panicked. Glancing down, I saw the owl-cats fighting with a group of people, some of which didn't look human.
There were two hulking figures clad in plate, one who was hurling hammers of light and held a massive shield. The other wreaked havoc with a hefty one-handed sword. I could also see a slender creature clad in dark material flitting in and out of the writhing pack of animals. Another statuesque, definitely feminine, creature stood to the side and hurled bolts of…was that ice? No, it was light. She wielded pure light and was hurling some at the fighters and the rest at the animals.
The bird above me let out a loud caw, eerily similar to that of either a crow or a raven, and began to tilt. We slowly spiralled down. I saw the last of the cats, some who fled and others who continued to fight. The ones who stubbornly refused to leave were cut down.
Figures moved between the corpses, plucking feathers, hacking off claws, one person even skinning a good number of the beasts. The sight of the glistening, skinless corpses, the moonlight making the blood look black, made my gag reflex kick-start.
I hiccupped and clamped a hand over my mouth as we neared to the ground, the breeze changing for a short second. My nostrils filed with the scent of blood, meat and excrement. It was awful and sickening.
I let out an 'eep' when big auld birdie let go of me and dropped me to the ground. I momentarily forgot about my wonky ankle and tried to steady myself to stand on my own two feet. Oh boy, did I regret that.
"Fecking Hell!" I squealed, clenching my hand into a fist and shoving it into my mouth.
My injured leg flew off the ground and tucked under me as though the soil had turned into lava. In an effort to maintain my balance I hopped around on my good foot, biting down on my fist to distract myself from the pain in my ankle.
I still managed to fall to the ground. The movement jarred my bad leg and I nearly drew blood from how hard I bit down on my hand. I breathed heavily in and out, and after a minute I removed my fist from my mouth and wiped it on my T-shirt.
My head swung around to my left, catching a glimpse of the bird, who'd landed and was looking at me with a beady black eye. I cocked my head, ignoring the pain as the creature ruffled its feathers, seeming to shift.
The neck grew longer, the body became more upright, and the beak and wings shrank into its body, becoming a face and arms, with hands. The spindly legs filled out and the talons withdrew into themselves, becoming feet with toes. My jaw dropped at the fairly rapid and fluid transformation from bird to man.
Where the bird sat not nearly a minute before, Flop-ears now stood, and he looked pissed. I noted at the back of my mind that he still had his clothes on, whichever way that worked.
"You!" I exclaimed, pointing at the tall blue man, noticing only then his odd manner of dress; closely fitted leathers entwined with leaves and the like, "You're a fecking púca! What the hell?!"
Flop-ears brushed himself down and strode towards where I was lying. I squeaked and held my hand up.
"Stop!" I wriggled backwards, "don't come near me now," he looked even more pissed off, "I don't want any of your fairy magicks messing with my head."
He ignored my 'stop' hand and grasped me by the wrist, pulling me to my feet, or, foot. I squawked like a hen and tried to hobble back, cursing and swearing and babbling on about not wanting to go away with the faries, pulling against his grip. He yanked me towards him, shouting.
"Enough!" His velvety voice livid. I stopped my protestations, meeting his raging luminescent eyes with my own wide, scared ones, "What's the matter with you?"
"What do you mean?" I retorted, "What's with you? What in the feck are you supposed to be?"
"I'm an elf," his eyebrows drew together in a furious 'v', "It's obvious. You're a very stupid human to not realise that, especially for one who's on the Broken Isles."
My cheeks filled with two high red blotches. I gasped in anger.
"Who're you calling stupid, you overgrown smurf?" How dare he? Only I was allowed to call myself stupid! "And what's with all the grabbing, huh? What in the feck am I doing here? How the hell are you turning into birdman and-" I glanced behind him, spotting the demon-lady I'd run away from earlier, "Oh Christ Almighty there's a demon over there!" My voice trailed off to a strangled whisper.
"Where?" Flop-ears whirled around, dragging me with him in his arc. I hopped and filled the air with 'feck's and 'fuck's'. "Where's the demon?"
"Right there," I pointed to the lady in white and gold-ish robes, holding a staff. My heart picked up again when I looked at the group, seeing one of the heavy figures take off their plate helmet, revealing an indigo-skinned face complete with horns and white, glowing eyes. "Oh Lord have mercy there's another one!" I pointed at blue-face, "Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph," I bawled, sounding like an old Biddy, "I don't want to go to Hell!"
Flop-ears' face went from tense and attentive to confused and finally, disgusted, in a matter of seconds. The looked down at me, curling his lip in contempt.
"They aren't demons you ignorant human." I opened my mouth to retaliate but he cut me off with another jerk on my arm, "they're Draenei, creatures of the Light. How could you not know that yet be here on the Broken Isles? What are you even doing here anyway?" I was given a cursory glance up and down, feeling humiliated by the dismissive look, "you're obviously not here to fight, and that's for sure."
"I've been asking you what I'm doing here and where this is," I pinched the bridge of my nose, sucking in a frustrated breath, "I've asked and I've asked and you still haven't answered my questions."
"You haven't answered mine," he snapped back.
"You didn't give me a chance to!"
"Well now I am."
"Oh yeah, like I'm going to answer them now after how you've been treating me."
"Well you're not getting any answers from me, either."
"Hey, would you two quit it?" A rough male voice called out to us, "you're like two dogs pissing on each other. Stop being so childish and act like responsible adults. Jeez." The armoured man from the fire clomped towards us, his helmet under his arm and his sword on his back.
He stopped in front of us, followed closely by a svelte woman wearing jet-black leathers, wicked daggers holstered at her hips. Her silky-looking blonde hair was tied back in a chignon and her eyes glowed a bright acid green, not unlike those of the Metal Angel I'd met just after arriving here.
She was so pretty, with beautifully proportioned eyes, nose, and a little rosebud mouth which was currently pursed in a pout. Her eyebrows were like Flop-ears; long, spindly and arcing up and off of her face, although these seemed to be much better groomed.
I couldn't help but feel she looked like a grumpy Taylor Swift. As she inspected her nails and huffed, after not even half a minute of glancing at me and dismissing my existence I changed my mind. She just seemed like a bitch.
To the left of the blonde was another plate-covered figure, yet this one was built like a behemoth.
Standing over eight feet tall, he was looked sort of human, except for a few minor details. For one, he had a big bony crest coming off his forehead, shaped in such a way that it almost looked like a crown. Tendrils decorated with golden rings protruded from his chin, four of them, and they tangled in his powder-blue hair, half of which was tied back from his face, the other half let loose.
His size alone screamed 'Non-human!' but I was also very aware of the fact that instead of feet, his legs ended in cloven hooves. They were also like the hindquarters of a goat, but without the hair. I squinted a little, was that a tail?
'Oh dear God,' my assumption was correct, 'he has a fecking tail!' It swung lazily back and forth behind him, a large, heavy-looking golden ring fastened securely three-quarters of the way down its length. I blinked hard and shook my head, still convinced that I was seeing things.
On the other side of the blonde was another female. This one had been extremely kind and she'd comforted me, and I'd got scared and wailed in her face before tearing off.
She was gorgeous, with luscious lips, a long, strong nose and a soft, oval face. Two delicate horns, like those of a kudu, curled up and out from the elegantly coiffed mass of her snow-white hair. Her garb was a well-fitted white and golden dress, showing off her curvy figure and making me feel very podgy and frumpy in comparison. Also at eight feet in height, with cloven feet, she was quite definitely a non-human as well.
After examining the posse, I opened my mouth to try and explain to the human that I just wanted to know what happened to get me here and that I wanted to go home. Flop-ears beat me to it.
"She hasn't answered any questions so far," his accented lilt now starting to sound more annoying than relaxing, "she's caused nothing but trouble since I picked her up and I refuse to cooperate with her until she behaves."
I tensed, anger shooting through me. My mouth opened and I sucked in a breath, ready to lash out. I was stopped by a hand on my free arm. I followed the hefty, gauntleted hand up a plate clad arm to the face of the big blue darn-eye-whatever you call him.
His illuminated white eyes stared into my own from a heavyset face and he gently shook his head. I blinked, tilting my head to the side in incredulity, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He gave me a pointed look and a small nod before turning to Flop-ears.
"You should know better, Kaldorei," his bass timbre had a roiling accent, like that of the goat-legged woman. Was it Russian or Hindi? I couldn't tell. "Look at her," he swept a massive arm out, showing me still doing my flamingo impression. "She can barely stand, you're holding onto her like a prisoner and you still haven't healed her from when you picked her up from the roadside."
"That has nothing to do with her attitude," the long-eared irritator said snidely, "she shouldn't be here anyway unless she can take care of herself."
"Yet you picked her up," the blue mountain stated, folding his arms before speaking again, "have you forgotten your patience, druid? You know far better than to act the way you did. Remember your manners."
Flop-ears flinched, narrowing his eyes to pale amber slits. "You're one to talk, paladin." He growled, his upper lip curling back far enough to show a dangerously sharp-looking set of teeth with long, pointed canines. I shivered.
"Enough!" The goat-lady interjected, pulling me from the elf's grasp and putting herself between Flop ears and I as the paladin caught me before I fell. "You both want answers, yes? So do us all!"
Blondie nodded, as did the human.
"Just ask each other questions," goat-lady began again, "and answer them. It's simple. This time," she looked both of us in the eyes like naughty children, "behave yourselves. Yes?"
I nodded. Flop ears jerked his chin. We both looked one another up and down. I decided I'd at least act civil and schooled my face into a neutral expression. Expecting the same from him, I glanced up, only to find him looking down his nose at me in contempt.
'Right,' I thought, pissed off once more, 'if he wants to pay that game, I'll bloody well play that game.'
I stuck my face right up to his, a furious scowl contorting my features. "Who are you? Where am I? And how did I get here?" I said vehemently, "That's all I want to know."
He brought his own visage, a mask of grieving annoyance and immense irritation, to my own. "I'm Faeldryn, you're on The Broken Isles, Azeroth. We've already told you this. As for how you got here, I was hoping you would tell me that."
"Well," I backed off, "I don't know. I was hoping you would know that, being a fairy and all."
"Elf," he corrected, "Kaldorei to be exact."
"Bless you."
He frowned, tilting his head to the side, giving me a quizzical look which quickly dissolved into irritation once more when I refused to answer.
"Who are you?" He grated through his teeth.
"Aoibheann," I replied without hesitation.
Another frown, this time followed by a comment; "That sounds like a Dwarven name."
"Do I look like a dwarf to you?" I snarked, "You can clearly see I'm a little over-catered for in the height department."
"That was just an observation," he sounded pissed off again.
I sighed, counting to ten in my head and letting a breath out to calm myself before I made the situation any worse.
"I think," I began, glancing at him tentatively, "I'm ready to talk and," I fidgeted with my fingers, "I'd also like to listen to what ye all have to say."
The blonde huffed, snatching a dagger from its sheath and picking at her nails. "It's about time," she muttered, making my ears and cheeks burn red with annoyance and a little shame.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry if I was a little bit scared," I bit out, my voice heavy with sarcasm, "But, it's not every day you get violently shunted from one reality to another and nearly kill yourself along the way. But," I put my hands on my hips, "You probably do that all the time and I'm just a humble rookie when it comes to interdimensional travel huh?"
I really shouldn't have responded that way. Miss Taylor Swift doppelganger appeared to have a superiority complex. Said complex must have become triggered by my snarky remark if the dagger appearing in front of my nose was anything to go by. Woops.
"You'd better watch your tone, human," she hissed. I flinched slightly, regretting my smart-mouthed jibe. Although just a little, mind you.
"Alysria!" Goat-lady said sternly to the blonde, "leave her," she brought her white eyes to me, "and you, she's right. You'd better watch your mouth."
"Fine, fine," I flung my hands up, palms facing out, "Jaysus, you have no sense of humour. I was being sarcastic."
The Blonde, Alysria, gave me a dirty look before removing her blade and flouncing off with the goat-lady in tow.
"Let's just get back to camp." The armoured mountain behind me sighed, "But first," he nodded at my ankle, "I need to fix that for you."
"Wait," I cocked my head to the side, "you can heal things? How? Don't you need a splint or at least something to brace the injury? Wha-"
He held his hand up and I stopped my interrogation.
"Watch," setting me down on the ground with my back against a large rock, "and you will see."
I turned my eyes to my damaged limb. It throbbed and hurt. The foot was swollen enough that it strained against the confines of my boot. My eyes widened and my mouth opened to a little 'o'of surprise when I noticed a golden glow gather in his hands.
He brought them down to my ankle and I must say, that was probably one of the most wonderful feelings I'd ever felt before in my life. Warmth bled into my skin, down through muscle and sinew and filtered into my bones. I felt the pain be washed away, the swelling rapidly decreased and I let out a breath of relief when the injury was completely healed.
Tentatively, I wriggled my toes inside the confines of my boot. A slight smile spread across my face when I found no pain in response to the action. Encouraged, I rotated my ankle and flexed my foot, whooping under my breath. All I felt were minute tingles, like pins and needles.
'Is that what a miracle looks like?' I wondered.
"Thank you," I said quietly, my tone grateful.
"You're welcome," the big blue man replied, his bass tone warm and rumbling like an avalanche. "Now, let's get back to our camp. Faeldryn?" Flop-ears, no, Faeldryn looked over his shoulder at Blue Mountain.
"Yes?" He enquired.
"Could you take Aoibheann on your back?" There was that frown again, "I don't want her to put too much weight on her leg. It needs to settle or she might damage it again."
The elf breathed in and out, pinching his nose, before answering; "Fine, I'll take her. But if she falls off I'm not picking her back up again."
"Uhhhhh…" I poked a heavily armoured shoulder, "What do you mean by put me on his back?"
"He's going to carry you," was the response, as sound as if piggybacking was an everyday, mundane thing.
"Right," I drew the word out, my eyes on Faeldryn who was in front of me in a matter of seconds. "So," I asked him, "is it going to be a piggyback or - Oh Lord above you're a deer!" He'd rather quickly and, needless to say, painfully, transformed into a stag before my eyes.
The stag, white in colour and covered in weird symbols etched into its fur, snorted in my face. I stood, still in shock, as it kneeled down, offering its back to me. I looked back for the blue armoured chap but he'd disappeared into the night.
'Come on Aoibheann, you can do this.' I schooled myself, 'it's just like riding Pooka, bareback.'
With my face set and myself steeled for whatever came after, I stood up, swung a leg over and gingerly lowered myself onto the animal-no, it was Faeldryn.
"Woah!" I yelped, scrabbling for a mane to grab a hold of, realising there was no mane and just digging my fingers into the thick fur as the now-stag-Faeldryn rose up to a stand. "Okay, cool," I chuffed, "no problem. I can handle this. Just like riding a horse, right?"
In the beginning, yes. We turned as soon as Faeldryn stood, and set off into the dark. The walk was rather nice. I was able to keep myself from sliding all over the place, clinging with my legs as well as burrowing my fingers into the luscious, fluffy coat. As we began to speed up a little, I was sure in the knowledge that I wouldn't so much as sway an inch no matter what happened.
I was wrong.
A galloping deer has a very different gait to the steady lope of a horse. For one, they bounce more and for another I think Faeldryn was deliberately being more bouncy in an effort to buck me off. As a result I ended up leaning forwards and pressing myself against his back and withers while, at the same time, clinging for dear life onto his antlers.
I know most deer would be rather small compared to horses but this boy was huge! He was about the same size as a Percheron horse.
'He'd be as large as a Giant Irish Deer if he was any bigger,' I mused, making a rather embarrassing hooting noise when we jumped up along a cliff.
"F-faeldryn-"I wobbled, my voice shaking and trying desperately not to fall off, "Faeldryn, do you think we could go a bit slower? I don't really fancy falling off..."
The bastard sped up!
I gasped and huffed as I was flung around, scrabbling for purchase in his broad back with my knees, my thighs, heck, anything would have done at that point.
"Please slow down, I think I'm going to fall off!" I yelled as I lost my grip on both the antlers and the stag and I went tumbling yet again, landing on my buttocks. "Ouch!"
Faeldryn stopped. I sat there, groaning and rubbing a hand over my tender rump, moving to get up. He turned his head to look at me, mussed up and rolling around in the dirt. I swear by the glint in his eye he was laughing at me, or maybe it was just the moon.
He snorted, the sound suspiciously close to a guffaw. Not the moon then. I stood up, albeit shakily and made my way to him. As soon as I came within touching distance, he snorted and danced backwards, away from me. I scowled and moved forwards yet again.
Once more as soon as I came close enough to reach out and touch him he bounded backwards. It happened again, and again and again until I became so frustrated I just flung my hands up in the air and collapsed to the ground in a fuming, cross-legged heap of frustration, muttering curses at him under my breath.
I glared at the grass, pulling up individual blades from the soil. I could hear his footsteps approach, feet not hooves. Sure enough, two leather clad boot toes stomped down in front of me. I sniffed and pointedly ignored them.
By this stage I was tired, confused and on the brink of a mental breakdown. I didn't know whether I was going to laugh maniacally or collapse in a weeping mess, again, so I focused my attention on decapitating the grass. It was working, at least it had begun to work. That is, until Faeldryn spoke.
"Aoibheann," I froze, shaking my head in a silent but adamant 'no.' He wasn't having it, "Aoibheann, look at me," I felt a large hand grasp my shoulder.
I slowly lifted my head. He was kneeling in front of me, resting back on his heels.
'How can his eyes shine like that?' I thought stupidly, 'It's like there's a lightbulb in his brain.'
"What?" My voice was flat, tired.
He pursed his lips, staring at me for the longest time. I felt, for reasons beyond my comprehension, very self-conscious. I was surprised when actually spoke and jumped a little.
"How did you get here?" Half my mind was lulled by that smooth baritone, whilst the other half took a little while to process the question.
I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut and balling my hands up into fists, grinding them into my eye sockets.
"For God's sake," I muttered through clenched teeth, "we've been through this before." I took my hands away and poked him in the nose, "I don't know."
"I think you do," he grasped my hand and pulled it away from his face, but he didn't let it go, "I think you're just supressing it."
"And if I am?" I raised an eyebrow, "What are you going to do about it?"
He frowned. "I suppose I can take you to someone who can help to speed up your recovery," His eyes closed and he let out a weary sigh, "looks like I'll have to tell the others."
"Please," I started, my voice dull with tiredness, "I just want to go home."
"Don't we all," I barely caught that murmur, or the sadness which quickly washed over his face before it was replaced again with cool neutrality.
He stood up, offering a hand down to me, which I took. I yelped when he literally pulled me to my feet, the momentum causing me to slam into him. I quickly stepped back, muttering an apology and scowling when I heard his snicker at my flaming cheeks.
A few heartbeats later and I was once more sitting astride him, this time venturing with more grace and steadiness to where the rest of the group was waiting. By the time we arrived, the sky was rapidly changing from ink-black to watery yellow towards the east. I yawned, slipping my legs over Faeldryn's hindquarters and barely keeping myself from collapsing to the ground in fatigue. I was so out of it that I barely registered Goat-lady catching me before I fell to the ground.
"Look at her, the poor thing!" she clucked, "Mordaan! Come over here and help me. I think she's still injured."
"She's fine, Davina," The heavily accented bass tickled my ears, "she just needs rest. Now put her down and let her sleep."
I felt Goat-lady, no, Davina, sigh. She gently lowered me onto a soft blanket and swaddled me like an infant. The last thing I saw before I fell into sleep were her bright eyes looking worriedly into my own.
'Tomorrow's going to be fun,' I thought, feeling my body go numb.
Sleep swept me up and I became lost to it.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
So there you have it, the [It's about time] second instalment of the scéal. I do have an excuse for the woefully slow progress. I'm currently in University reading for a degree and I've only really been pecking away at the keyboard in my spare time. I know I'll get a lot of flac for not having updated very often but I'll try my hardest to not upset too many people. I'll also be going back over previous chapters as I go along with the story just to work the kinks out in either narrative or general plot. As I said before, please leave a review and let me know if you find any mistakes, plotholes or whatnot. I can only learn if I have the chance to correct myself. Chapter Three is in the making and I hope to have it up and ready more quickly than I did with Chapter two.
Little note:
Púca, {pronounced poo-ka}, is the Irish word for 'Ghost,' but originally was used to describe faries. These particular faries had shapeshifting abilities, changing from goats to hares to horses and to rabbits, all of which would be black in colour with red eyes. They were known and feared for their love of tormenting and playing tricks on humans.