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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 18:58:53 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza, Horde, Troll Hunter Archiver: Alabaster
“The Wolf” was a name she had been given when she had been removed from her tribe. They had marked her with a tattoo on her left arm that bore her namesake, as well as a jagged scar down her right cheek. It was very difficult to make a troll scar, but it could be done through two methods: Fire or poison.
Her tribe had specialized in poisons. The Venomwood lived deep in the jungles of Stranglethorn, alone and secluded from the large tribes of Bloodscalps and Darkspear. A very potent herb that grew in their village was used to make many of the specialty poisons that were used by their hunters and assassins, and it was one of these that had been used during her marking.
The ritual for this sort of disfigurement was saved for those who committed the gravest sins against the tribe.
The elder shaman, an old wizened troll man, had found her that fateful morning, crouched over the fallen chief; his body mutilated by axe blows, his lifeblood puddling around his corpse. His chest cavity had been hacked open unceremoniously, and in the bloodied hands of the muscular troll woman the chief’s heart lay, still warm but no longer beating.
Reiza had turned then and flashed the shaman a grim smile, “His heart was weak. You’ve seen how he let our people die to the Bloodscalps. We needed to be rid of him. And rid of his weakness.” She held the heart slightly higher, as if offering it to the shaman.
He shrieked at her, trying to knock the organ from her hands, but she held onto it tightly, clutching it to her chest as if it were a prized possession. The others of the village had awakened to the startled scream of the shaman, rushing to the chief’s tent to see what had happened.
Reiza simply smiled her same grim smile, staring into the eyes of each of her tribesmen before bringing the heart to her mouth and sinking her long canines into the warm flesh. The members of her tribe stared at her in shock and horror for a moment before the shaman ordered them to grab her.
Four of the elite assassins rushed in, two of them pinning the girl to the ground while the other two bound her arms and legs, ensuring that she could not escape the punishment that she was due. They carried her out of the chief’s tent to a large tree just outside of the main village. Binding her tightly against it, they left her prone to the wilderness and the elements.
Luckily for Reiza, the animals of the region had learned to stay far from the village, even when smelling blood from a fresh kill, fearing the deadly accuracy of the tribal marksmen. She was left alone, tied to the tree for two full days as the tribe saw to their fallen chief’s funeral rites.
On the morning of the third day, the elder shaman stood before her with a number of the other tribesmen. In his left hand he held a bowl full of a sickly green liquid, and in his right was a dagger, sharpened to what seemed as a razor’s edge.
The old man stepped forward, standing perhaps a foot away from the bound captive. His voice was quiet – a soft wheezing sound, though his tone was as hard as granite. “Explain yourself girl. You killed our leader, leaving us helpless against the Bloodscalps… Why would you do this to your own people?”
Dehydration and hunger were starting to take their toll on Reiza’s mind, making her feel slightly disoriented and dizzy, but she managed to steel herself to answer the shaman’s question. “For years our people have been tormented by the Bloodscalps, and yet our ‘leader’ if you can even call him that, sat idly by and let our people die. Our tribe is dying because of him. Every day the Bloodscalps claim more of our lives. Our ‘leader’ was weak, and he needed to be gotten rid of. His weakness has killed our tribe, as well as himself.”
For a full minute, the shaman said nothing. He simply stared at the young troll in front of him, wondering how one so young could have grown to be so bitter. He shook his head, it didn’t matter after all. She was to be punished and thrown out of the tribe. That was the way of things.
He held up the bowl, close to her face. “I take it you know what this is?” he asked softly, gauging her reaction to the harsh smell of the poison. But the girl didn’t flinch, she simply nodded her head and stared directly into his eyes. “Then I suppose you know what is going to be done as well.”
She nodded again, no sign of fear or apprehension in her eyes.
He brought the dagger to the poison, gently rolling the tip through the noxious liquid. He took two more steps forward, his breath blowing into her face. “Reiza of the Venomwood, you have killed our esteemed leader and betrayed your own tribe. You act as a wolf, killing that which you find weaker than yourself and thinking that you can assume the position because you claim yourself to be strong. This poison in your flesh will remind you every day that you are a traitor to your people and your kin.”
The old man lifted the dagger with a steady hand, dragging it slowly from the tip of her eyebrow to the very point of her chin. Again he dipped the dagger into the foul poison, and again he repeated the motion.
Pain shot through Reiza’s face, as if she were being stabbed with thousands of burning needles. Her eyes watered and her mind screamed in anguish, but she refused to show any signs of weakness. Her face remained stoic as she stared into the eyes of the elderly man who was marring her flesh.
She could not even count the number of times the dagger was pulled through her flesh. She felt the blood running down her face, dripping steadily onto her leather tunic before rolling down the length of her body. The bloody trail streamed nearly to her feet as the shaman made the last mark upon her face. The poison slowed down healing to a near dead stop, though luckily she would not bleed to death from the wound inflicted on her face.
One of the men who had come with the shaman to witness the ritual handed him a small bowl filled with black ink in exchange for the bowl of now bloodied poison. The shaman shuffled back over to the girl, pulling a thin, sharp shaft of metal from a strap at his waist. He rolled up the sleeve on her tunic, exposing her bicep muscle.
“The lone wolf,” he said, dipping the shaft into ink before stabbing it carefully into her flesh. “You fight your own people, you kill senselessly, you fight for an over inflated sense of survival, and you will always fight alone. This tribe has no place for a lone wolf among its ranks. We are a pack, and we fight together. You, Reiza, will always fight alone.” He spoke slowly, continually moving the shaft from ink to flesh and back again as he drew a detailed picture of a wolf’s face, grinning and slavering at the mouth.
He stepped back as he finished, handing the shaft and bowl to one of those who accompanied him. “Cut her loose.”
Within seconds, two sharp axes swung at either side of her, cleaving the ropes that held her in half. She staggered on her feet, but refused to fall to the ground despite her body’s aching need to rest.
“No longer may you claim the rights of the Venomwood clan. You are dead to us, and you shall travel this world as a ghost among men. Leave before we are forced to shoot you as the intruder you are,” his eyes glared into hers, his voice soft and resolute in his decision.
Reiza said nothing. Her stony silence perhaps saying more for her strength than any other words or actions could have. She turned slowly away from the village, face still streaming with blood, and walked out into the jungles. She never so much as glanced back to her village, for what they had said was true. She was the Lone Wolf, and she had no need of this pack.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 18:59:08 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza
She rested that night in the wilderness, waking in the morning to realize how lucky she was not to have been attacked by one of the several carnivores that roamed the jungles. Perhaps the scent of the poison had caused them to keep their distance. How ironic that the clan who had cast her out with nothing had managed to save her life
She hunted the next day, forging a make-shift blade from a triangular stone. She attempted to fell a raptor, but failed horribly, earning herself a jagged cut across her stomach. She walked aimlessly, unwittingly finding her way to the shore. Salt water crocs roamed the beach and she kept her distance from them.
That is until she heard a frantic clicking noise. Her natural curiosity piqued, she hurried to the sound and watched in wide eyed horror as a croc took a small crab within its jaws, squeezing slowly until it heard a sharp CRACK and then releasing again. Never before had she seen an animal of the wild torture another before. Until now, she had thought it a purely humanoid invention. Rage boiled within her and she rushed the croc with a primitive screech of fury. Taking the beast by surprise, she stabbed her rock-dagger into its eye, using her sharp thumbnail to jab into the other. The beast shrieked in pain, and made it's hasty retreat away from whatever had attacked it, leaving its helpless prey in the hands of this savage woman.
But for all of her bitterness, Reiza's heart reached out to the poor clicking creature. She took him gently in her hands, cradling him almost like a child. The crab lashed out, pinching her hands and fingers in an attempt to flee, but she held him tightly as she walked back toward the jungle. She spotted some kingsblood growing nearby and plucked several blooms with a deft hand.
She sat down with her legs crossed, corralling the crab as she crushed the herbs in her hands against the flat of her dagger. She spit several times, creating a thick paste of herbs and saliva which she rubbed upon the creature's broken shell. The crab skittered away clicking his claws and mouth furiously.
Despite herself, Reiza laughed, "Now there little one, I'm just trying to help you! No reason to get so feisty with me. You make such a cute little clicking sound though." She paused, smiling broadly, "That would be a good name for you, Clicks." Only in Reiza's uneducated mind, she saw it spelled out as Klix.
Klix chattered more, still trying to scurry away from his unwanted owner, but Reiza would not let him go, at least not until he was well. His shell was cracked in several places, and he would never survive on his own in this state. "Yeah, I know you don't like it. You're a loner, just like me. But for now we're going to stick together, whether you like it or not."
Not understanding the strange woman that held him captive, Klix continued to chitter and clack to no avail. After awhile he became used to her presence, though he was still wary of her, and the sharp knife she carried.
She bonked his shell affectionately, "Don't worry little one. I'll keep you safe. You just have to put up with me a little longer and then you can go on your way."
Little did she know how long it took a crab's shell to heal, and little did she know that in that amount of time she would forge a strange friendship with the tiny shellfish. The lone Wolf had found her pack, even if she did not realize it.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 18:59:32 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza
Out of the Jungle
The savage troll woman and her tiny crab friend lived alone in the jungle for several weeks. They traveled slowly, Reiza cradling Klix in the crook of her arm as she walked at an unhurried pace through the thick vegetation. She had become excellent at tracking predators and prey alike, watching their movements with a close eye. She could dart swiftly between them and be out of sight before they even picked up her scent.
Klix was slowly growing used to his large protector. Ever since they had lost sight of the ocean, he had stopped trying to run away. This woman may have been strange to him, but so far she had kept him safe. His instincts were, oddly, starting to adapt to his new situation. Because of Reiza’s protection of him, he was beginning to become oddly protective of her, though he still shied away from fighting.
The troll never expected the little crab to fight for her. She was used to fighting for herself and making her own way, so his avoidance went by completely unnoticed. He had become invaluable during the nights when she needed to rest. If anything approached too closely he would start chattering until she awoke, and if that didn’t work he would pinch her forcefully on the arm. She had subconsciously taken on the role of Klix’s guardian, doing her best to keep him safe from anything that might harm him.
It was on the twentieth day of their travels that they came upon a goblin town at the very southern tip of the jungles. She sat watching them for more than a day before judging it safe to approach. She watched all matters of races and beings traipse into the town and exit again unscathed. However, she was completely unsure how they would react to Klix, so she held him close to herself as she walked cautiously into the tunnel.
The guards ignored her as did the ship merchants. In fact it wasn’t until she ran into one of the little green fellows that anyone even noticed her.
“Hey! Watch were you’re goin’ short tusks!” came the snide reply.
Reiza made a feral growling noise in the back of her throat, which made the little man laugh and smile.
“A feisty one, eh? I love a girl with some spirit. Name’s Brawn. Come on up to my shop. Ya look like you could do with some new clothes an’ maybe a bite to eat,” he grinned at her and gestured for her to follow him up the winding ramps of the haphazardly designed town.
She followed him for a moment before the thought suddenly struck her – This goblin spoke perfect Trollish. He had an accent of course, but he wasn’t of her tribe so that was to be expected. She hurried after him, pulling up along side him and pacing herself to his steps.
“You speak Trollish very well for an outsider…” she said quietly, clutching Klix in her arms.
“Heh, us goblins, we speak ‘trade’. Ya gotta know the language if you want stuff ta sell. Couldn’t very well try and sell stuff to an Orc speaking Elvish now could I?” he chucked as he finally turned into a little shack on one of the upper ramps. “This is my shop. Ain’t much really, but it gets business done.”
She ducked in cautiously, unused to being in such a crowded place. Her village had been relatively small, and growing smaller by the day because of the Bloodscalps attacks. The noise alone in Booty Bay was enough to make her want to run back into the quiet jungles with Klix. But she stayed, stubborn and strong willed, she managed to ignore her apprehensions, standing awkwardly in the dank leatherworking shop.
Brawn eyed her obviously before grinning again, “Ya don’t get out much do ya?”
“I was removed from my tribe exactly twenty one moons ago. They say I am a traitor to my people,” Reiza shrugged, not knowing if she should continue on with her tale.
The goblin simply shrugged, “Ain’t my place to ask about your past. People’ll’re always runnin’ from somethin’.”
She tilted her head at an angle, staring at him inquisitively, “I’m not running from anything. I left because my people are dead to me, as I am dead to them. I have survived alone in the jungles for twenty-one sunrises and sunsets, I could survive for twenty-one more, and twenty-one more after that. If I were truly running, I would not have stayed so long in the wilds.”
Brawn let out a hearty laugh, “Call it what ya will trollie, doesn’t matter to me. Yer past is your business.” He glanced at her scar, which was now a sickly greenish brown in hue, “Erm, but ya might wanna get that… mark on yer face looked at.”
“My scar…” she said softly, bringing her hand up to her face and tracing the line with a gentle finger. She could feel hardened pockets of skin intermingled with bubbles of puss as she followed the line down to her chin. Every day she could still feel the stabbing pain in it, the same pain she had felt during the original scarring. “Nothing you have could cure it. My people have a way with poisons. There is nothing you could do for me.”
“Suit yourself then,” he said shrugging. “So then… ya got kicked outta yer tribe and just been wanderin’ through the woods? Ya lookin’ fer a job? Or travel? Or…?” he said trailing off, waiting for her to answer him.
“In my tribe I was training to be one of our elite archers. If that’s what you mean by a ‘job,’” she said simply.
“Erm… nope, not quite. I meant a job. Ya know, something ya do just to make money? Like I work with leather. Ship it in from outta town, make it into somethin’ pretty and ship it back out,” he explained.
She shook her head slowly, “No… the people of my tribe have no use for ‘money’ that you speak of. We would simply provide for each other. If one worked in leather, they would trade to someone in exchange for food or something else that they needed.”
“…So ya don’t have any money then?” he said, the glimmer fading slightly from his eyes.
“No… this is the first time that I’ve had any kind of contact with anyone outside of my tribe. Any… friendly contact,” she amended.
“Hmph… well. It’s not normally like me to do favors. But I like yer spunk and determination girly. So I tell ya what, you work for ole Brawn here and I’ll teach ya the ways of workin’ leather. Then you can sell some of the stuff you make and get yourself started on earning some cash.”
Reiza blinked at him, still cradling Klix in her arms. His offer was indeed very kind, and she recognized this, though she still distrusted his intentions. “My name is Reiza. Of the Ven…” she paused shaking her head. “Just Reiza. Or the Wolf, I suppose,” she said rubbing her arm awkwardly.
“Heh, Reiza’ll do just fine. Come on then, let’s head to the inn to get something to eat. Then I’ll start teachin’ ya the basics of the leathers,” he began to head out of his shop, but paused at the door way. “Oh, and ya might wanna leave your little friend here. The cooks at the inn might think ya want him boiled up and served with butter if ya tote him in there,” Brawn said with a grin.
She clutched Klix to her chest, her eyes going slightly wide at his suggestion. “I can’t just leave him… he might run away. And he’s still hurt. He wouldn’t survive if he ran off.”
“Wouldn’t survive in the kitchen either, just leave him here in one of the empty boxes lyin’ about. Don’t use ‘em for anything but leather scraps anyway. He’ll be fine in there,” the goblin said as he continued out the door of his shop, waiting on the pathway for Reiza to join him.
She grabbed one of the crates nearby, noticing it was indeed lined with a thin layer of scraps. She set down Klix gently and pulled some fruit from a small bag she carried on her hip. “I’ll be back soon… don’t go getting into too much trouble now,” she said, patting him affectionately on the shell before turning to leave.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 18:59:55 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza
The rest of the evening past uneventfully by and Reiza paid close attention to Brawn as he showed her how to turn a few scraps of leather into usable, craftable pieces. He had explained to her over dinner that she would need to learn how to make her own money, and that leatherworking was a fine way to do it. She realized that he was right, as the ways of the rest of the world were probably very unlike the life she was used to. This goblin seemed well-traveled and worldly, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt and submitted to his teachings.
By the end of the evening, before Brawn deemed it time to go to sleep, Reiza had successfully made a small pile of workable leather which she sat proudly on the floor in front of her feet. Klix sat next to her, chittering nervously every few minutes as if he didn’t trust their new and unfamiliar surroundings. She soothed him as best she could, but... soothing a crab is surprisingly difficult.
Brawn offered her a soft pile of old hides to lay on, which was much more comfortable than sleeping on rocks, twigs, and assorted other things that covered the jungle ground. She curled up, placing Klix beside her where he promptly fell asleep. Constant worrying, even on the part of a crustacean, is wearing. Reiza wrapped herself in one of the hides, the cool ocean breeze blowing in through the open shop door.
She drifted off to sleep very slowly that night. She was comfortable, warm, and safer than she had been in the jungles, and yet for some reason sleep eluded her. She tossed restlessly, though she tried not to disturb Klix as he slept soundly beside her. Reiza simply couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong. Something about her new surroundings was simply making her feel uneasy.
Perhaps it was all the noise, perhaps it was how crowded the town was. She tried to write of her unease to both of these things, but something deep in her subconscious continued to argue with her. Something was wrong, but it would be a long time before she realized exactly what it was.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 19:00:13 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza
A Poetic Interlude
Quiet drops fall on jungle trees, Rich scents travel on a warm breeze, Silence reigns in the pitch black night, Shadowing all that is wrong and right.
A crime of passion, of revenge so sweet, Watching the body fall at her feet. Crimson flowing, bones break and crack, She sits in the shadows, deepest black on black
A life taken for others lost, Vengeful girl too many times crossed. Alone in her life, a wolf with no pack, Lost from the world, too proud to turn back.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 19:00:36 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza
Boring.
That was the best way she could describe this new life in the goblin town of Booty Bay. So horrendously boring. She spent all of her days working leather, selling leather, getting more leather, and assorted other tedious tasks.
Brawn had told her of cities across the ocean, telling her that the Darkspear trolls had joined up with the orcs of Durotar. He told her fascinating stories about wars, a mountain called Hyjal, and great magicians and wizards. She had begun to learn the languages of the other races, mainly that of Orcish. Ideas were formulating in her mind that perhaps she could find solace among the other members of the Horde. If the orcs had accepted the Darkspear among them, why not one more lone troll?
She disliked these little goblins for several reasons, namely their constant and unquenchable thirst for money. Brawn was the same as the rest, making her work to earn her keep, because he always wanted more money. She was beginning to have a grasp at the works of the basic economic structure, figuring out the complexities of supply and demand on her own, much to Brawn’s surprise. Despite all of her lacking knowledge in the ways of more advanced society, Reiza had a very sharp mind and could pick up on unsaid intricacies with little to no effort.
Her work ethic, however, was lacking at best. The majority of the time she would sneak out of town into the jungles and practice shooting random small targets. She had been given a bow by a very kind man in town when he heard of her interest in them. She had been training to be one of the most skilled marksmen of her tribe before her exile, and did not wish to lose the invaluable training that she was given.
She practiced for hours every day, shooting at rocks, discolorations on trees, or even small animals that happened to traipse across her path. Brawn continually tried to reprimand her to improve her behavior, but since she was making such steady progress in her leather skills, he didn’t really have too much room to complain.
Nights were perhaps the worst time for Reiza. It took her hours to fall asleep, and she was very often tired during the day because of Brawn’s early waking hours. She tossed restlessly on her pile of furs, perfectly comfortable in a physical sense, but a nagging thought that she couldn’t identify kept her poor mind awake.
Perhaps it suspected what was going to happen to her, perhaps it knew somehow that certain horrific events would transpire during those quiet night time hours where nothing could be heard but the sea crashing about the shoals. Regardless, for months Reiza’s nights were restless, until the one fateful night where her world came crashing down once more.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 19:01:07 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza
WARNING: ((Some explicit scenes in this... those who are squeemish about sexual harrassment type things might want to skip over this section.))
Thirty tunics were stacked before her. Thirty. She had been making them all day, stitching swiftly, but carefully, making sure that everything was done in just the right way. Brawn watched over her, a sly smirk upon his face. Reiza, in all her foolishness, thought that he was proud of her… of her progression. She finished the last stitches on her thirty first tunic, laying it carefully atop the others, before turning with a smile to her mentor.
She smiled again. She’d started without even realizing it. She used to smile all the time… to her mother… her father… her friends… But they were all gone now, and the happiness had gone with them. The anger and sorrow and burning aching for revenge had filled her. Her revenge had been sweet… sticky sweet as the blood that had been on her hands and lips as she held his heart in her palms… but the feeling had long since faded, and along with it the anger and sadness.
She had started feeling happy again. Accomplished. Proud. She was starting a new life in a confusing, unfamiliar world, and she was doing well.
Damn well as a matter of fact. She could speak Orcish near fluently, though she still had an accent that she couldn’t quite kick. It didn’t matter though, she could be understood and she could understand. She could make a new life with the Orcs once she saved enough money. Brawn probably wouldn’t want her to go, he seemed quite fond of having her around… In fact… it would be best to talk to him about it before simply taking off.
Reiza glanced over at him as she put away her needles and thread. “Brawn, I’s gonna be leabin’ soon joo know dat? Wanna go ta libe wit de Orcs obah in dey city.”
Picking the tunics off the ground, he arched an eyebrow at her but said nothing. He walked over to a crate, placing the tunics inside and hammered the lid into place. He turned around and looked at her, then walked over to the door of his hovel and closed the make-shift door.
“Leavin’ huh? Whatcha wanna leave for? You’re makin’ good money here with me, no reason to go off with those thick-necked orcs,” he said with a smirk.
She shrugged, “Joo git me on mah feet, but I wanna make mah own way, joo know? I knows de leaddahs now, makin’ de good armahs like joo taught me. Tinkin’ I kin make mah own shop obah wit de Orcs.” She looked directly at him, not ashamed of her decision, nor afraid of his reaction. Though perhaps she should’ve been.
He lowered his eyes to the ground, and gripped his hands together behind his back. “So, you’re gonna just run off with everything I’ve taught ya, huh? Forget all about the charity I offered, and the money I paid ya?” He paced across the floor, glancing at her from one eye.
“Joo know I ‘preciate wha’cha did fah me, Brawn. I woulda been lost wit out joo teachin’ me. But I gotta mobe on now, I don’t like dependin’ on anyone oddah den mahself, an’ I’s depended on joo too much already.” She tried to stifle her anger, staring at Klix, sleeping peacefully in his box of leatherscraps.
“You still owe me for what I taught you. And what I did for you. You can leave when you’ve paid your debt,” his voice was quiet, and the smirk on his face looked menacing in the dim light of the shack.
Her head swung around, glaring at him with open hostility, “I don’t owe joo nutting, Brawn. Joo been stealin’ mo’e den half mah money ebbah since I been workin’ fah joo. Ja been tellin’ me dat tings been sell fah only so much, bu’ I’s heared joo talkin’ ta jah frien’s. Tellin’ dem dat joo been makin’ so much money offa my leadahs. I been doin’ dis fah joo an’ not sayin’ nutting! Cuz I t’ought dat I be owin’ joo someting. An’ if joo’s gonna be actin’ like dis, den me an’ Klix’ll jes’ be leabin’.”
She moved to stand up, when she was taken by surprise at the little goblin flinging himself at her at full force. Despite his miniscule size, he was exceptionally strong. The name “Brawn” was more accurate than she had ever known, and she struggled, trying to throw him off of her.
Cold metal pressed against her throat, and at once her struggles stopped. A sharp skinning knife held by expert hands was enough to make even this rebellious woman keep her temper in check… At least until she saw an opportunity to turn the tables on the two faced bastard that was holding her at knife point.
“Now then…” Brawn said, with the sick smirk returning to his face, “about what you owe me.” His free hand reached down, ripping the front of her tunic and exposing her to the cool night air. Embarrassment was something that Reiza had never learned, but anger… oh gods how the anger burned in her. Flashes of her mother’s face came to her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut to try and blink them away. She wouldn’t end up like that. There was no way she would let that happen to her.
She watched his face, with cold, dead amber colored eyes. He smirked at her, before he allowed his eyes to trace over the contours of her exposed torso. He let his eyes wander, licking his lips absentmindedly. Distracted by what he saw, the knife released ever so slightly from her throat, and before he could even scream, his wrist was broken and a three fingered hand clenched around his tiny green throat.
She said nothing, just glared as she watched his face turn blue as his air was cut off by the firm grip at his neck. He moved his lips, trying to say something, but she didn’t even give him a chance. Reaching over to pick up the fallen skinning knife, she gripped it in her free hand and brought it to the side of his face, giving him an identical scar to her own.
“De mark ob a traitah,” she whispered, bringing the knife to his throat, just above where she gripped his neck. She stood, watching his little legs kick futilely at the air. “I be leabin’ now, Brawn.” She loosened her grip slightly, and he gasped as the air filled his lungs.
“M-mercy…” he managed. “Have mercy…”
Her nostrils flared and she dropped him to the ground, pouncing on top of him and pinning him down with her strong legs, the knife cutting ever so slightly into the skin of his throat.
“Nebah.”
The single word was all she spoke as she stared into his eyes and drank in his fear. She gripped his ears in her hands, tilting his head back to expose his throat. Her deft hand sliced easily through his skin, and blood rushed from the wound with a near gushing force. Her eyes didn’t leave his face until Brawn gurgled his last dying breath.
She dropped her grip on him and let his head thunk to the floor as she stood up and wiped the blood on her ripped tunic. Reiza walked over to the recently closed crate, prying it open quickly and taking out several of the tunics. She slipped one over her head, throwing her bloodied rags to the ground. Her pants were stained from the knees to the cuffs from the blood that had puddled on the floor, so she stripped those off as well, prying open another crate and sliding on the new pants. She grabbed her things and shoved them into a small leather pack that she slung over her shoulder.
The last thing she picked up was Klix’s box. She gave him an affectionate bonk and walked over to the door, resting the box on her hip, and opening the door with her free hand. She let it slam closed behind her, and made her way to the docks to wait for the boat that would take her to Ratchet.
What happened to Brawn was discovered the next day as the noonday sun baked his dead flesh inside his hovel. The authorities investigated the smell, finding the disturbing scene. Calls went out for everyone to find the troll girl that was staying with him, but she was no where to be found.
The Lone Wolf had traveled on, learned another lesson, and gained another grudge. The happiness that had returned to her was extinguished. A fire that perhaps would never be ignited again. Her anger, however, burned more fiercely than it ever had in the past. She had a score to settle with these goblins. One day it would be recognized.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 19:01:32 GMT -5
Writer: Stumm, Horde, The Broken Fist, Tauren Shaman
In an isolated cove just north of Booty Bay, the ruined body of a Goblin in the colours of the Booty Bay Bruisers slipped from the Red Admiral's wrist claw.
The green man's red blood disappearing into the Admiral's regalia, Stumm knelt to inspect the filthy creature's pockets. There was a note; a warrant for arrest, for a Troll woman apparently under suspicion of murder.
Snapping the claws back under the broad sleeves of his red swashbuckler's shirt, Stumm grinned. Another had joined the battle against the Goblins, even though that individual may not know it yet.
Disappearing back into the steamy jungle, the massive red form of the Bloodsail's admiral vanished into the brush.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 19:01:52 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza
After spending so much time at the bustling port of Booty Bay, Reiza thought that living in the Orc city would be a breeze.
That is until she got to the gates. Very few people were coming in and out, but there was a dull roar of noise that could be heard even out in the barren lands of Durotar. She shifted her weight and hefted Klix’s box on her hip, standing and staring at the gate in front of her.
“Come on den...” she said aloud, urging herself forward. She walked confidently... until someone nearly ran her over on an armored kodo. She leapt swiftly out of the way, clutching Klix’s box to her so that she wouldn’t drop him. Reiza glared at the fading dust trail set off by the great lizard’s speeding feet. Taking a deep breath to try and calm herself, she turned about and entered the gates, pausing once more as she looked over the valley of what she assumed was the main trade center of the city.
People were rushing about on various errands, others were yelling out goods that they had to sell, while some screamed about needing the help of other adventurers to take on some task. All of the noise blurred together in to one loud roar, and it was all that Reiza could do to keep from holding her hands over her ears to drown out the sound. She walked as swiftly as she could through the crowded area, accidentally bumping into several people on her way and earning various glares and grumbles.
She noticed a dark area ahead and made directly for it. Something in her mind told her that where it was dark, it would be quiet.
Partly right at least. There were less people here, but the noises from the crowd at the front of the city echoed off the high walls of the Drag, and the random vendors she passed shouted out their wares, adding to the noise. She clutched her box close to her chest and rushed past all of the people, trying to find some place where she could just stop and think. She turned randomly toward an opening on her right and sighed in relief.
There were relatively few people here... just some fishermen on a dock on a small pond and scant few shops. The yelling from the front of the city could scarcely be heard, and she sighed with relief, loosening her grip on Klix’s box. She flopped down next to the pond and let Klix wander around a bit. He immediately rushed for the water, chittering happily as he reached the cool pond. She watched him with a certain fondness in her eyes, but couldn’t bring herself to smile.
How could she? In this place? After the reasons she had left? She was alone in a strange place... surrounded by more people than she had ever seen, let alone met. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting out a soft sigh. She just needed to find work... anything to keep herself busy... maybe they would send her places that weren’t so crowded... maybe she wouldn’t have to spend too much time in this noisy place with all these... people.
“Why’d we eben come heah, Klix?” she murmured softly, mainly to herself. “We don’ fit in heah... dey’s jes’ too many folks heah fah us...” She ran a hand through her blood red hair before sighing once more. “We jes’ gotta fin’ ah place...”
But where exactly that place was... Reiza could not even imagine. It certainly couldn’t be in this busy, bustling city. After a few moments, she pulled Klix from the water, earning a sharp claw on her finger and an angry exclamation of chatterings from her bright red friend. “Joo hush nah. We need ta fin’ some place ta sleep befoah tings get too dahk. Joo can play in de watah tahmarrow.”
She placed him back in his box, his angry clicking going on for a few more moments before he quieted down in his familiar surroundings. Reiza shook her head, envying the little creature. No matter where he went, he would have something familiar... he’d be able to take some sense of comfort in the box that he had lived in for so long...
“Wish I had mah own bawx...” Reiza said with a snort.
She walked around the small circle of this offshoot of town and found a small secluded area near the top of the waterfall that fed the pond below. “Dis be as good a place as any, jah?” Klix, already asleep, made soft chittering noises as he flexed his claws. Reiza sat with her back to the canyon wall, staring out at the slowly darkening sky. She watched the moon rise over her head, as the sun faded and the torches around the city were lit.
The noise had quieted drastically now, though a dull hum could still be heard, even in this far corner of the city. Her eyes blinked heavily as her body finally gave over to its exhaustion. She lied down, curling up in a fetal position with her back against the wall.
She drifted off, her mind occupied with finding her place with the Horde. All she could see were deep green jungles in her mind, missing the soothing night time noises that she had grown up with. And yet despite the noise and despite the unfamiliarity of the city, Reiza slept soundly for the first time since she had left her jungle home.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 19:02:22 GMT -5
Writer: Reiza
A Chance Meeting
Jobs came and went. Some important, some not so much. She worked, she made money, and she made armor, but she never made any friends. She wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to her to feel any sort of companionship to her, and even if they had, she would not have returned their feelings. She traveled to the far reaches of the world, but today she was sitting outside of the Goblin town of Gadgetzan astride her magenta raptor, Julie.
She gritted her teeth, trying to keep calm. These people here didn’t know her… and it had been a long time since Brawn’s death. But every time she looked at them, the way they walked, the way they spoke, their disgusting, grabby hands… she wanted to unstrap her bow from her back and slaughter the lot of them.
But she resisted… because they had jobs.
Jobs that required her to slaughter trolls… Vicious, violent trolls that reminded her of the Bloodscalps of Stranglethorn. She licked her lips, dry from the arid desert, and set off toward the ancient city of Zul’Farrak. She dodged agilely through the small village outside and ducked into the ruins only to find… a sleeping, shaggy, ghostly dog.
She whistled for Klix, as he had fallen behind on her run into the ruins, but he quickly came scurrying up to her, clattering wildly. He paused when he saw the ghost wolf and scuttled up to it, settling down beside it. Reiza smirked slightly, but the expression died off fast enough when the ghost awoke and began speaking.
“What the…” he murmured sleepily.
Reiza settled down in front of him, curious as to what this creature was. She pointed at the crab and said, “Dat’s Klix.”
Klix began to chatter once more at the sound of his name, looking around curiously for anything that might attack them. He was slightly paranoid… especially for a crustacean.
The ghost wolf sniffed the creature curiously. For you see, in the time that had passed since their arrival to Orgrimmar, Klix had grown quite large. He could no longer fit in his box, and was too heavy for Reiza to carry. The wolf looked up at her, “This is the biggest crab I’ve ever seen.”
She shrugged, “I jes’ feed him right. He lubs fruit. Mebbe dat makes crabs biggah.”
Suddenly, in a flash of light, a large Tauren knelt where the wolf had been sitting. His shoulders were of black stone, and seemed to be coursing with lava. Upon his back was a strange whirring device… some machine that spun on endlessly. Reiza had been sitting quite close to the ghost wolf, not realizing it’s true form was that of a shaman and she felt the urge to scoot away from the grey Tauren in front of her.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Stumm said, glancing at the troll, suddenly catching sight of her suspicious look, though he made no mention of it.
“De gobbies… dey gabe me some jobs to do heah.” She pulled out a list and squinted at it. Her reading skills were lacking at best, but she was able to make out the important words. Rather than embarrass herself, she handed the parchment over to the shaman, who scanned it quickly.
“You’ll probably want some help with this,” he said handing back to list. “Even a crab that size wouldn’t be able to take on that whole place by himself.” He grinned and gave Klix a firm pat on the shell.
Reiza shrugged and tucked the note back into her bag. “Me an’ Klix do jes’ fine by ahselfs.” She leaned over and bonked the crab on the shell, her face alight with affection for him.
“Well… I was waiting here for some people I know to show up. You might as well just come with us. Five bodies will give you better luck than just you and your ambitious little crab friend,” Stumm said with a grin.
The hunter eyed him suspiciously. “Joo wan’ Reiza’s help? Dat’s it, jah?” She glanced over at Klix, noticing that he had not given up his place next to the Tauren, and seemed very taken with him. They’ve always said that animals know better than people… she thought. “Dat’s fine, cowman. Me an’ Klix’ll gib joo a han’. Don’ need joo ta go dyin’ to dese trollies, jah?”
Stumm snorted and replied with dripping sarcasm, “Oh yes we desperately need your help. Without you, we’d be horribly lost.” He stood up and brushed the sand from his clothes. “And for another thing, I’m not a cow.”
Reiza climbed to her feet as well, following his lead, “Well joo LOOK lahke a cow. Joo got cow hohns an’ a cow tail.”
“You have tusks, does that make you a boar?” he quipped, folding his arms across his chest.
“Ob course nah! I don’ hab a snout o’ hoobes o’ a tail. Joo... joo got fuh an’ joo got a tail an’ joo got hohns an’ joo got hoobes. Joor a cow... an’ a dumb one at dat!” she replied, calling Klix over to her. The crab looked up at Stumm and reluctantly scuttled over to his master, chittering softly.
“Well I’ve never argued that last point. But I’m a Tauren, not a cow.”
She shrugged, “Wuts de difference?”
Stumm grinned, “Well for one thing cows are animals. And animals don’t talk. Tauren do, so we’re obviously not cows.”
Reiza rolled her eyes and was about to respond when two other Tauren came riding in on their kodo mounts. One male, with a large cat and one female, dressed from head to toe in green. They dismounted and greeted Stumm warmly. Reiza however, tried her best to blend in with the sandstone wall behind her, feeling completely uncomfortable and out of place.
The female Tauren bowed before her, and Reiza simply nodded her head in acknowledgement. She began to fidget, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides. Nokora, the female Tauren, had began speaking to Stumm, joking and laughing with him.
“We gonna jes’ stand heah all day o’ wut? I’be got tings to do,” Reiza said in a huff.
Stumm looked at her and arched an eyebrow, “Well... let’s go then.” Nokora smirked at him, and he grinned at her. The other male Tauren was very quiet, much like the stealthy cat that followed him. He hovered very closely to the female, occasionally giving her looks of affection or small touches on the arm.
A strange feeling stirred in Reiza as she watched their subtle interaction. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but she didn’t like it at all. She felt empty suddenly, and there was a pang in her stomach that she did not understand. She pulled her bow from her back and continued on into the ruins, trying to ignore the feeling in her gut.
It was time to kill. This was no place for feelings.
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