World of Warcraft®

((Relating to the "Cruel Words.." story line, especially considering Tagnarr's post on page 4. Chronologically this would fit in a short time afterwards.))
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Despite the warmth of the summer nights, the air of Duskwood always seemed to carry a chill.

Everyone felt it differently. Some described it as a physical chill that creeps up on you, making you shiver. Others have claimed that it comes upon you suddenly. You’ll know it when your breath clouding the air and your cheeks or the tip of your nose suddenly stings. Yet others have described the cold as more of an ethereal thing. Something that seeps into your bones or drapes over your soul cloaking you from any ‘light’.

Whatever it may be, for Officer Rachael Reading, ‘the chill’ was a part of the job. Moreover, it was a fact of life that she had to accept. Darkshire, and greater Duskwood by default, was her beat. She broke her teeth here as a rookie and junior officer. It was here she’d made her first arrests, investigated her first cases, and shot her first violent suspect. The past couple of years have been “educational” as she would put it.

There was no shortage of the dark, the mysterious, and the weird here. In her experience, things just never occurred as they did in other beats. Crimes were different. Even when they seemed ‘typical’ there was always a strange element involved. It was often difficult for Officer Reading to nail down, not really being big into the supernatural ‘stuff’. As far as she’d been concerned it was all a lot of hooey. Nonsense. Things conjured in the mind, likely exacerbated by the strange darkness that clung to this land.

Oh, she believed enough in magic. At least she’d seen enough of it to respect… whatever ‘it’ was. But ghosts? Nah. Dead is dead as far as she was concerned. She’d spent a fair amount of time around Raven Hill Cemetery, and with her time spent in the field as a part of the Alliance Military, she’d encountered her fair share of ghouls and walking corpses. None of that seemed very supernatural to her.

Mystical perhaps but not mysterious. Merely puppets on magical strings.
Besides, put a slug in their brain pan and they reacted the same as anything else would.

Dead is dead.

Then came the day ‘it’ happened.

[1/6]

It was the same as any other day really.

Waking up in a land of eternal darkness and gloom you either learn to get used to it, adjust, or leave before it drives you mad. Opening her drapes use to be one of the first things she did after getting out of bed. A vain attempt to let in the none-existent sun light. She still liked to look out over the main square. The view from the room she’d been renting since she’d arrived years ago was fairly good.

Today, for her however, started… off. She’d left her drapes alone.

Putting herself together she checked in with the watch command at their local branch office post and finished filing a few reports from the night before. After an equipment check she stopped by a local farm house that did veterinary work to pick up her partner. A white-gray coated wolf half breed she’d picked up there in Darkshire, from the same veterinary actually. She’d always loved animals, dogs especially, and so jumped at the chance to enter Stormwind Watch’s K-9 officer program.

Reilly was predictably excited to see her. Days before, he’d gotten into a dust up with a feral wolf that had wandered too close to town. She’d put the wolf down to protect her partner, but not before Reilly’d taken a good beating. The doc gave him a clean bill of health though, and he looked no worse for the ware, so Racheal decided to go straight back to their usual patrols and hit the out laying regions hard today. Work out some of their obedience kinks from being separated for so long. There were bound to be a few.

The day passed rather uneventfully… at first. Visits with a couple of the outlaying farmers and homesteads had gone well. A few more reports of missing persons had come across their desks, and Rachael picked every one of them up as if it were her personal crusade to find these people. Most of them children of varying ages. She’d asked the usual questions but came up dry on leads, per usual.

While visiting the roadside worgen merchants near Raven Hill, Reilly picked up the scent of something he didn’t like. Clearly the cemetery beyond was crawling with walkers but Rachael knew they weren’t it.

“What is it?” Rachael asked down to Reilly in a hushed tone.

The wolf-dog’s ears steepled. Anxiously he glanced up at Rachael meeting her eyes, then back toward one of the old ruined buildings that managed to still be standing. She could tell by the dog’s posture that there was something he needed to see. Something of great interest.

“Alright. Cautiously.” Rachael breathed, holding her hand out. Palm flat pointing downward. She urged Reilly forward.

[2/6]

They had always made a great team. Rachael seemed to be able to easily read Reilly’s emotions and reactions fairly easily. Likewise, Reilly accepted Rachael as his leader. His Alpha, as it were.

It was a small pack bond that they’d formed. A bond of mutual trust, love, and understanding. The time they’d spent separated was just as hard on her as it must have been on him. When they finally were reunited at the veterinary’s farmhouse it didn’t take long for them to fall back into sync.

Officer Reading slung the rifle from her back. Her marksman training from her days on the front lines with the Alliance returned, and she shouldered her weapon with her trigger finger riding along the stock. Muscle memory. Wrapping her supporting are in the strap she pulled the rifle snug into her shoulder and leveled the muzzle as she walked. Several steps ahead of her Reilly stalked toward one of those ruined buildings. A tall two storied edifice. He was intensely interested, yet not alarmed nor aggressive.

Reaching the doorway Reilly paused and glanced up at Rachael. An ingrained response that Rachael had trained into him. Before entering any building Reilly was to always stop at the threshold and ask permission with his glance, or at least wait for further commands. In part, for her, it was a sign of respect. Other officers that had watched them work also interpreted as much. More than however, it was for safety concerns both for Reilly and whatever might be inside.

Reilly, after all, had been trained primarily as a search dog… but being part wolf he had a fierce nature about him that was sometimes kept only just in check thanks to Rachaels’ disciplined training. The last thing anyone wanted was for him to uncontrollably charge into a situation and maul a suspect.

Or worse, get himself killed.

Officer Reading paused at the doorway. She lowered her rifle and listened for a long moment. Not hearing anything she slung her rifle over her back and pulled the side arm pistol she carried. Cycling the dwarven make (gnomish adjusted) six shot cylinder with her fingers to check its load, she clasped the weapon with both hands and adjusted her stance accordingly.

With a gentle nod Reilly slowly entered the open building as she followed close behind.

[3/6]

Aside from a few faint shafts of muted light that pierced through gaps in the wood paneled walls, the building was dark and silent.

Just inside Rachael fished a powerful gnomTech flashlight from her duty belt and clicked it on. She wrapped her clenched fist with the flashlight beneath her pistol as added support. Where her flashlight pointed, so too pointed her pistol.

The beam of light cut through the darkness, revealing an assortment of broken furniture and other debris. Sweeping the beam across the room she found Reilly, padding along slowly, sniffing the floor as he went.

Then came a soft voice.

Rachael’s ears perked at the sound. Reilly’s did as well. His head lifted suddenly to peer into the darkness. Rachael swept her beam of light in the direction Reilly faced. A stairway leading to the second floor. She heard Reilly’s footsteps advance. Concerned about the unknown Rachael sounded an abrupt and sharp ‘shht’ noise, a call that triggered Reilly’s conditioning.

The dog halted near the foot of the stairway.

Rachael stepped past him. She took each creaking-moaning step with deliberate ease. Not only did she not want to broadcast her presence, but who knew if or when one of these steps would give away under her weight. What if the whole thing collapsed as Reilly climbed up before her. That would be a mess. True enough, that could still happen, but at least this way she felt a little more in control of the situation.

Her ears perked up again, as did Reilly’s. She glanced down at the dog on the step just below her. Anxious as ever he crowded her back leg, as if he were pushing her forward. She relented and kept moving.

Sounded like… a cry. A moan? Was somebody weeping?

[4/6]

The pair reached the top of the stairs. A small landing that opened up to three doors, presumably with rooms beyond. Each door was closed, but by their looks they were merely resting in their jams, unhinged and ready to fall at the slightest breath.

Rachael made a soft tapping noise with her tongue. A signal for Reilly to go ahead.

The dog followed his nose around the landing, coming up to each door before sitting at one. His signal to Rachael that he'd found something of interest. The door on the far right. Rachael clenched the flashlight in her teeth and with her free hand gently worked the door open. Dust and debris fell away as she dislodged it from its frame.

She was wrong. A single hinge yet remained, allowing her to precariously swing the door open with one hand and prop it against the wall. She gazed into the room as she did, flashlight in her mouth, pistol arm sweeping inside. Her ears perked again.

A soft cry. That was certainly a cry or a moan.

Reilly stepped to the door threshold and paused, ears peaked. Rachael listened again as the voice wept softly. “Is somebody there?” Rachael called out as nonthreatening as she could. More than once she'd been chided for not being a 'people person'.

Not prone to much conversation, idle or otherwise, she usually stuck with the facts and when she was done she left. Curiously enough she wasn't much of a 'child person' either. Not that she didn't like kids, they just didn't like her.

“I’m Officer Reading of the Stormwind Watch. Is someone there?”

The soft voice moaned. That’s a child’s moan.

“Are you hurt or lost?” Rachael called out as she stepped into the room.

Reilly brushed past her leg, entering the room ahead of her. It was an antechamber of sorts meant to accommodate small meetings, gatherings, or perhaps an office. It was hard to tell which it had been, as most of the debris seemed to have been cleared and the walls were barren.

Reilly swept wide across the room, eyes fixed on the interior closed door. Rachael guessed that a bedroom was beyond. She crept cautiously to the door.

“Hello? I’m going to open this door now. Don’t be afraid. I’m just here to help.”

[5/6]

Planting the flashlight in her mouth as she did before, Rachael slowly pulled on the door handle.

Immediately she noticed that it swung easily on all of its hinges, as if it had recently been installed. Her brow furrowed a little. Odd.

Pulling the door open enough to peer into the room, the beam of light projected from the instrument in her mouth illuminated the small figure of a child. Sitting on a small single bed in the corner of the room, the child clutched his legs to his chest facing the wall. Rachael pulled the flashlight from her mouth to speak, and immediately noticed several other children, all of varying ages, huddled in the opposite corner of the room.

Silent terror stricken eyes peered back at her, a strange element shone in them.

“Children.” Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s ok. I’m with the watch. I’m here to help you.” Reilly’s thick warm body pressed up against her leg. She felt him tense.

Sweeping the light back across the room toward the bed she opened her mouth to ask a question. The vision of a terrible phantom, the likes of which she had never before seen, launched itself at her. She cried out an obscenity, flapping her arms in defense.

A strangely familiar sensation fluttered in her chest, around her heart.

Reilly recoiled from the doorway, hackles raised, teeth bared, rolling a deep deadly growl. Staggering backward a step she blinked and quickly tried to reorient her senses, sweeping her flashlight around the empty antechamber.

The soft child’s voice grew louder in her mind, ever more menacing. The sound of clattering claws or chattering teeth danced around her. Just as she’d catch the thing in her beam of light it disappeared, darting circles around her legs.

A shrill cry pierced her ears, practically crippling her.
Reilly cried out.
Rachael reached to cover her ears.

As she turned to the source of the sound, the beam light shone across a large dark figure that stood in the other doorway, blocking her exit. A horrendous visage with a green hellish glare and a maddening grin, clad in the dress of an agent of death. She heard Reilly cry out and fall silent, but before she could find him the weight of something clawed and bony fell upon her shoulders and practically wrapped itself around her head.

It cackled ferociously in her ear. It's breath chill and frigid as death.
She cried out in terror.
Something sharp pinched both sides of her neck.

Darkness took her.

[6/6]

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((More to follow...))

((A jaunt over here for an interlude: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/18194055460?page=1#5 ))

Rachael awoke some time later.

Her mind reeled with panic. Darkness. She couldn't see a thing. Silence. Her heart beat in her ears. Her breaths came rapidly. All else was quiet. No echoes. She moved her head side to side. She could hear hair rubbing against something.

Easy Reading. Her training took over.
Easy. Be still. Where are you?

Drawing in a few sharp breaths she managed to calm her heart, if only a little. She flexed her arms to move. They were free, but something pinned them to her sides. She couldn't move her elbows out. Her hands lifted and felt something solid just above her body. Her muscles tensed. Cold realization chilled her blood.

That's...is that... a lid?

She pressed against it, but nothing budged. She kicked her feet out gently to feel around. They could move but only so far. Their restriction confirmed it. This was her worst fear. Her nightmare.

"HELP!" Her scream sounded long and tormented. Tears welled in her eyes as she beat against her surroundings. The heat of her panicked breaths began to stifle the air around her. Time passed felling like hours she screamed and beat on the hard surface that surrounded her until finally her voice gave out.

Nothing. No sound. Her head spun. Slowly she began to relax. The chilling resolution of her own demise began to set in.

NO. She chastised herself.

NO. I'm not giving in. Think Rachael. Think.

Who? Her mind fixated on the question. Who would do this to me?
No. That was the wrong question.

Don't blame yourself. Don't give way to despair and become the victim here. You're an Officer, Reading. Start acting like one.

Slowly, in painstaking detail, Rachael began walking back through her day starting from the last moment she could remember. With something else to fixate upon, her mind drifted away from her horrible circumstance. Her body finally relaxed.

This is going to take a while.

Only when she had grown sufficiently weak from thirst and hunger did the lid of her stone casket finally pop open. Not a soul answered her cries for help. Weak and helpless she forced her way out of the casket into a warm dank stone room. Only the dimmest candle light guided her to a small stool and table where sat a simple plate of bread, some kind of meat, and a cup of liquid which clearly wasn't water.

Nevertheless, starved and thirsty, she ate and drank ravenously. She then paid for it as the food forced its way back up. She cursed herself, knowing better. Dehydrated, she slowly forced down the remaining liquid when a soft unkind voice spoke to her from a darkened corner, urging her to climb back into her stone casket. She refused at first, of course, and fought hard.

In the end however she was taught a painful lesson. The room darkened and some unseen force descended upon her. When her lesson was finished she returned herself to her stone prison.

And so passed the first week. At every turn and every chance she fought the voice. Only ever a voice. For Rachael Reading it felt more like a month. Well into the second week she'd become convinced it was all in her head. That some sinister unseen force was playing with her mind. Her time spent outside the box extended longer and longer as she remained obedient. Any disobedience was treated harshly.

By the end of the third week, she'd been broken.
Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Utterly broken.

Three weeks may as well have been three months, or even three years. It didn't matter, especially once the nature of her captors were finally revealed. The voice, a succubus, her loyal pair of fel hounds, a large brutish fel guard who always smelt of blood, and a gaggle of viscous imps. Demons. That explained the uncomfortable warmth of the small stone room where her stone casket and she were kept.

Somehow, for some reason, she was in hell.