Post by Buthaleirus on May 30, 2006 17:37:00 GMT -5
Granting the patroller’s dying wish, Buthaleirus allowed her to sound the city’s alarm. The troll wanted his prey to know he neared. Methodically, he stealthed his way through Stormwind, skipping from shadow to shadow. Along his murderous path lay the bodies and blood of those he choose to kill. They served as both markers and warning to any that would try to hinder this self-imposed duty.
“This is it.” Butha thought to himself, as he looked at the small undistinguished house. “Time for the nightmares to end.”
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“By the Light, no”, Celphus whimpered. Alarms had been sounded. His judgment neared. Now old and weak the former SI:7 agent held little hope he would survive this starless night. Just as his stalker had little hope those many years ago.
Rain pelted the window pane, as the ex-assassin reflected. Memories and feelings of murder, duty and guilt flooded forth.
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“NAH!”, Buthaleirus raged. His classmates’ screams and cries filled the young troll’s ears. Chaos erupting around him, his instincts took over. Buthaleirus sought the shadows and watched. He watched a SI:7 agent murder his peers. Although still only new to his training with the Shattered Hand, the orphaned troll recognized the gratuitous brutality of the murders. The human took his time as he slaughtered each student.
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Celphus hated Orgrimmar. Its dirt, its filth and its stink made the city near unbearable for the “finer” races. He moved with haste through Drag into the Cleft of Shadows, where an arm of the Shattered Hand existed.
“This will be over soon enough.” The notorious child-killer sighed to himself. “Four. Only four. This will indeed be quick.”
With a swift kick, the old door collapsed, and the human went to work. One by one the young orphaned students fell before the ruthless agent‘s daggers.
“Bah, only three? There were supposed to be four. I don’t have time for this.” Turning about slowly, he chided the hiding would-be assassin, “Come out, come out wherever you are. Come now, do not be afraid. I will make it quick.” The human quickly searched his victims, taking their daggers as identification and proof of his mission.
As the Orgrimmar guard descended upon the Cleft, Celphus' time rapidly faded.
“You little prick!“ Celphus shouted. “We will meet again.” With that, the human disappeared.
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The shadows seemed to breathe. The dank air hung like a wet drape over the room. Darkness closed around the old man. His hope fading, he fell to his knees, praying, "I shall be with you soon my love. May the Light guide our new blade strong. May he find a path different than mine. Have mercy on his soul." Then, in a moment where fear meets panic, Celphus felt it. He felt the rain on his back. He tried not to scream, but failed.
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Lifting the window and gliding through it, Buthaleirus moved closer to silencing the screams in his head. The old man knelt only yards away. Methodically, he circled the child-killer. The trolls’ rage building, he struggled to restrain his shaking hands. His eyes narrowed, while his lips trembled, stretching themselves from a snarl into his trademark grin. Butha watched as the mumbling human began to scream. The shadow master giggled, and stepped forward. Butha loved many things. He loved pies, flowers and friends to name a few, but few things entertained the rogue like the dance that takes place within shadows.
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Eyes so filled with tears, Celphus could barely make out the shadowed figured that approached, yet he knew who it was. The rogue sauntered forward. His maces swung casually, almost lazily, at his sides. Lifting the great Demolisher up, he rested it upon his right shoulder, as he stood before the kneeling human. Placing the other hammer under the old-man's chin, Butha raised the murderer’s head, till their eye's locked. "Joo know who Ah' be?" Buthaleirus asked. With the sound of the troll's voice, Celphus leaned to his left and vomited. A mixture of bile and half-digested lamb now covered the wooden planks of his modest home. Bent forward his forehead resting in a self-loathing puddle, Celphus wept between his heaves. A mixture of rage and pity filled Buthaleirus. His heart pounded with sounds of revenge, but something held his hammers low.
"Daddy?" A human voice asked from the doorway. Celphus, the father, looked up and saw his son.
Although the troll could not interpret the words, he understood their meaning. With a deafening roar, Butha raised his great hammers, and with a force that made his chest nearly explode, he sent them crashing down, splintering the floor’s wooden planks.
A flash of powder and a moment later, Buthaleirus was gone.
“This is it.” Butha thought to himself, as he looked at the small undistinguished house. “Time for the nightmares to end.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“By the Light, no”, Celphus whimpered. Alarms had been sounded. His judgment neared. Now old and weak the former SI:7 agent held little hope he would survive this starless night. Just as his stalker had little hope those many years ago.
Rain pelted the window pane, as the ex-assassin reflected. Memories and feelings of murder, duty and guilt flooded forth.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“NAH!”, Buthaleirus raged. His classmates’ screams and cries filled the young troll’s ears. Chaos erupting around him, his instincts took over. Buthaleirus sought the shadows and watched. He watched a SI:7 agent murder his peers. Although still only new to his training with the Shattered Hand, the orphaned troll recognized the gratuitous brutality of the murders. The human took his time as he slaughtered each student.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Celphus hated Orgrimmar. Its dirt, its filth and its stink made the city near unbearable for the “finer” races. He moved with haste through Drag into the Cleft of Shadows, where an arm of the Shattered Hand existed.
“This will be over soon enough.” The notorious child-killer sighed to himself. “Four. Only four. This will indeed be quick.”
With a swift kick, the old door collapsed, and the human went to work. One by one the young orphaned students fell before the ruthless agent‘s daggers.
“Bah, only three? There were supposed to be four. I don’t have time for this.” Turning about slowly, he chided the hiding would-be assassin, “Come out, come out wherever you are. Come now, do not be afraid. I will make it quick.” The human quickly searched his victims, taking their daggers as identification and proof of his mission.
As the Orgrimmar guard descended upon the Cleft, Celphus' time rapidly faded.
“You little prick!“ Celphus shouted. “We will meet again.” With that, the human disappeared.
.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The shadows seemed to breathe. The dank air hung like a wet drape over the room. Darkness closed around the old man. His hope fading, he fell to his knees, praying, "I shall be with you soon my love. May the Light guide our new blade strong. May he find a path different than mine. Have mercy on his soul." Then, in a moment where fear meets panic, Celphus felt it. He felt the rain on his back. He tried not to scream, but failed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lifting the window and gliding through it, Buthaleirus moved closer to silencing the screams in his head. The old man knelt only yards away. Methodically, he circled the child-killer. The trolls’ rage building, he struggled to restrain his shaking hands. His eyes narrowed, while his lips trembled, stretching themselves from a snarl into his trademark grin. Butha watched as the mumbling human began to scream. The shadow master giggled, and stepped forward. Butha loved many things. He loved pies, flowers and friends to name a few, but few things entertained the rogue like the dance that takes place within shadows.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Eyes so filled with tears, Celphus could barely make out the shadowed figured that approached, yet he knew who it was. The rogue sauntered forward. His maces swung casually, almost lazily, at his sides. Lifting the great Demolisher up, he rested it upon his right shoulder, as he stood before the kneeling human. Placing the other hammer under the old-man's chin, Butha raised the murderer’s head, till their eye's locked. "Joo know who Ah' be?" Buthaleirus asked. With the sound of the troll's voice, Celphus leaned to his left and vomited. A mixture of bile and half-digested lamb now covered the wooden planks of his modest home. Bent forward his forehead resting in a self-loathing puddle, Celphus wept between his heaves. A mixture of rage and pity filled Buthaleirus. His heart pounded with sounds of revenge, but something held his hammers low.
"Daddy?" A human voice asked from the doorway. Celphus, the father, looked up and saw his son.
Although the troll could not interpret the words, he understood their meaning. With a deafening roar, Butha raised his great hammers, and with a force that made his chest nearly explode, he sent them crashing down, splintering the floor’s wooden planks.
A flash of powder and a moment later, Buthaleirus was gone.