Umm, I have a little gold and some...bombs, yes, I have bombs. I'll pay you not to tell the Maggot Lord.
Change (RP Story)
A few days had passed and it was incessant. It was in her head. It was everywhere. When she slept and when she was awake. It was making her weary and it was getting louder.
She tried to listen. To follow it. She headed north. She thought that was right. To head north. But when she found herself near Orgrimmar, it was just too loud. She had to stop. It was making her dizzy. She walked around the city aimlessly not sure where she was going.
This wasn’t a good thing. This noise in her head. She had been keeping quiet about it. But no more. She shouldn’t be keeping this to herself anymore. She fumbled for her hearthstone. She pressed it against her cheek. Her head, it was hurting. . . .
“It’s too loud,” she said into the stone. She wasn’t sure who responded, but she answered when they asked. “The noise, it’s too loud. . . .In my eyes when I sleep, when I’m awake. It’s just there, a noise. . . .Yes, the visi. . . . no, no, not the vision. Not a vision. It’s a noise. It’s. . .crackling.”
“Like fire?”
She recognized the voice now. It was Reknor and his word was right. “Yes. . . .like fire.”
She tried to listen. To follow it. She headed north. She thought that was right. To head north. But when she found herself near Orgrimmar, it was just too loud. She had to stop. It was making her dizzy. She walked around the city aimlessly not sure where she was going.
This wasn’t a good thing. This noise in her head. She had been keeping quiet about it. But no more. She shouldn’t be keeping this to herself anymore. She fumbled for her hearthstone. She pressed it against her cheek. Her head, it was hurting. . . .
“It’s too loud,” she said into the stone. She wasn’t sure who responded, but she answered when they asked. “The noise, it’s too loud. . . .In my eyes when I sleep, when I’m awake. It’s just there, a noise. . . .Yes, the visi. . . . no, no, not the vision. Not a vision. It’s a noise. It’s. . .crackling.”
“Like fire?”
She recognized the voice now. It was Reknor and his word was right. “Yes. . . .like fire.”
Reknor found Red Earth pacing in confusion on a bridge that stretched across the cavernous Drag high above the city. She was tapping her head, her face contorted in pain. He was unsure what he should do, but he tried to help her make sense of the confusion. The loud crackling, it was like voices. It was as if the fire was trying to get into her head and talk to her.
“Can you make out the voices?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “Too loud. No, too quiet. Too many. No. . .no. . .too FAR.”
“Focus, try to concentrate on one voice. One voice, focus on just one voice.”
Red Earth stopped her pacing and grabbed the rails of the bridge. She shut her eyes and tilted her head, listening to what Reknor couldn’t hear. Still unsure what to do, Reknor instinctively reached out and put his hand supportively upon her shoulder. She muttered in Taurahe, a single word. Reknor repeated the word, trying to understand. It sounded strange coming from his lips. Red Earth shook her head.
“Sorry,” she whispered to him. “Child. It’s child.”
Reknor nodded, understanding now. “Child. Yes, the elements would consider us children . . . .”
Red Earth shook her head vigourously. He did not understand.
“No? That’s not it?”
“Dropped the child,” she muttered.
“Dropped the child? Which chi-“
Her eyes opening suddenly as she sharply turned to look at him. There was fear and understanding in her eyes. She blurted out, “The painted child!”
“Alright,” he said calmly, hoping to calm her. “The painted child. Should we find it, save it?”
“Painted. . . .”
Red Earth pulled up the sleeves of her shirt and began to rub the red fur on her arms. She began to sway and shake her head. She put her hands on her ears, closing her eyes and bending her head down as if she was listening intently. Her words came out once again in Taurahe, repeating the same words. Something about the child. He could make that much out. She tilted her head back and forth now, as if she was speaking to one person then another. Speaking fiercely, disagreeing. Her eyes tightened, her lips contorted. What she was hearing was very loud. She then looked to the skies and yelled. . . .
“Yes! Okay! OKAY!”
She laid her hands upon the rail again, clutching them tightly. Her breath was heavy and ragged as she stared at her hands, but she seemed to be calming down now.
“Good, good. You’ve understood? It’s working. You’re controlling it.”
He was wrong again. She shook her head. “They want the child. I said I’d give them the child.”
“What child? And who wants it?”
“Can you make out the voices?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “Too loud. No, too quiet. Too many. No. . .no. . .too FAR.”
“Focus, try to concentrate on one voice. One voice, focus on just one voice.”
Red Earth stopped her pacing and grabbed the rails of the bridge. She shut her eyes and tilted her head, listening to what Reknor couldn’t hear. Still unsure what to do, Reknor instinctively reached out and put his hand supportively upon her shoulder. She muttered in Taurahe, a single word. Reknor repeated the word, trying to understand. It sounded strange coming from his lips. Red Earth shook her head.
“Sorry,” she whispered to him. “Child. It’s child.”
Reknor nodded, understanding now. “Child. Yes, the elements would consider us children . . . .”
Red Earth shook her head vigourously. He did not understand.
“No? That’s not it?”
“Dropped the child,” she muttered.
“Dropped the child? Which chi-“
Her eyes opening suddenly as she sharply turned to look at him. There was fear and understanding in her eyes. She blurted out, “The painted child!”
“Alright,” he said calmly, hoping to calm her. “The painted child. Should we find it, save it?”
“Painted. . . .”
Red Earth pulled up the sleeves of her shirt and began to rub the red fur on her arms. She began to sway and shake her head. She put her hands on her ears, closing her eyes and bending her head down as if she was listening intently. Her words came out once again in Taurahe, repeating the same words. Something about the child. He could make that much out. She tilted her head back and forth now, as if she was speaking to one person then another. Speaking fiercely, disagreeing. Her eyes tightened, her lips contorted. What she was hearing was very loud. She then looked to the skies and yelled. . . .
“Yes! Okay! OKAY!”
She laid her hands upon the rail again, clutching them tightly. Her breath was heavy and ragged as she stared at her hands, but she seemed to be calming down now.
“Good, good. You’ve understood? It’s working. You’re controlling it.”
He was wrong again. She shook her head. “They want the child. I said I’d give them the child.”
“What child? And who wants it?”
“Me. I’m the child,” Red Earth answered. “They want me to go to the Firelands.”
Reknor nodded. “Good, we need help there. We need to defend this world!”
Red Earth frowned. Once again, he didn’t understand. “Remember the other day, I said there was going to be a journey. Now I know where to go.”
“Yes. To the Firelands? And fight the wolves?”
Red Earth frowned again. She looked doubtful. She remembered the dream she’d been having. “Did I fight the wolves?”
“No,” Reknor remembered with her. “But you didn’t know how the dream ended.”
“It ends with fire. It ends with black.”
“So. . .you don’t believe you’ll come back. . . .”
“I don’t know, I just. . . .’You are one of us, we will show you.’ That’s what the wolves said.”
And that’s when Reknor remembered. “Oh. . . .the druids. I saw Druids of the Flames. Traitors to the Cenarion Circle in the Firelands. Could this have to do with it?”
Red Earth raises her head, startled by Reknor’s words. “Druids of the flame? Traitors?”
He explained to her what had happened among the druids. About Fandral Staghelm and how he had turned to serve the Firelords, how he had converted others to do the same and was continuing to do so now. Red Earth’s face grew pale as she listened to this. Then she started shaking her head again, she brought her hand up to it and started tapping once more.
“Is that what they want? They want you to join them?”
“Shhhhh!”
Reknor, who was about to ask more, shut his mouth and stepped back.
“No, no,” she said to him. She was shushing the voices in her head. “They’re loud again. They know. They know I don’t want to go now. Shhhhhh. . . !”
“If you don’t want, you can resist!” Reknor demanded. He was getting angered now, seeing her in this state. “We can gather other shamans, try to calm down the elements. You’re not alone in this!”
Red Earth whimpered as she took a hold of her head again. She fell to her knees, shaking her head vigorously. She started to cry. “No. Nononononono, I can’t-“
Reknor bent down over her and took a hold of her. “You’re a strong, a great, leader. You can resist if you want!”
“Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh, nonono. SHHHHHHH! I’ll go! I’LL GO! LEAVE ME ALONE! I’LL GO!”
Red Earth fell against Reknor, as if she had just been released. She rubbed her head and her face, as she whimpered. She could feel the disappointment from Reknor as she leaned against him. She wiped at her eyes with her shaking hands.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t. I have to go.”
“At least gather the tribe. Explain what’s going on,” he offered.
“Not because they demand me,” she continued.
“Then why?”
Pulling on the rails of the bridge, she raised herself up again. Reknor helped her stand as she shakily held onto the bridge to regain her balance.
“Because the Ancestors say I will. Because my father showed me the vision of the kodo and how they went after the wolves. I do not know what will happen. But they say I will go. And I will listen to them.”
He was confused still by it all, but he said the words anyway. “Of course, I understand. But?”
He could see it in her eyes. There was something more she wanted to say. But Red Earth shook her head, dismissing her last thought. “You are right. I must try and gather the others and tell them what must happen.”
They were quiet now, the voices from the Firelands. The noise had stopped. Red Earth was exhausted, but she was once again calm. They would leave her alone now because she had resolved to listen.
“I’m sorry. You do not know me very well,” she apologized. “And now you’ve seen what is the hardest, yet necessary, part of my life. My visions.”
“No, but I think I would like to know you better. And who knows, we may still get that chance. And, mmph, no matter. I swore loyalty to you and I will never back down from such an oath. If you believe you are doing the right thing. . . .then you have my support.”
“Even into possibly the deadly unknown?”
“I’m an orc. And have you seen the kind of crazy stuff our Warchief orders us into?” Reknor grinned, and it made Red Earth chuckle.
“Thank you, my friend.”
Rest. It was time to rest. She would have to be strong. For the others when she told them. And for herself when she did as she was being told to do.
Reknor nodded. “Good, we need help there. We need to defend this world!”
Red Earth frowned. Once again, he didn’t understand. “Remember the other day, I said there was going to be a journey. Now I know where to go.”
“Yes. To the Firelands? And fight the wolves?”
Red Earth frowned again. She looked doubtful. She remembered the dream she’d been having. “Did I fight the wolves?”
“No,” Reknor remembered with her. “But you didn’t know how the dream ended.”
“It ends with fire. It ends with black.”
“So. . .you don’t believe you’ll come back. . . .”
“I don’t know, I just. . . .’You are one of us, we will show you.’ That’s what the wolves said.”
And that’s when Reknor remembered. “Oh. . . .the druids. I saw Druids of the Flames. Traitors to the Cenarion Circle in the Firelands. Could this have to do with it?”
Red Earth raises her head, startled by Reknor’s words. “Druids of the flame? Traitors?”
He explained to her what had happened among the druids. About Fandral Staghelm and how he had turned to serve the Firelords, how he had converted others to do the same and was continuing to do so now. Red Earth’s face grew pale as she listened to this. Then she started shaking her head again, she brought her hand up to it and started tapping once more.
“Is that what they want? They want you to join them?”
“Shhhhh!”
Reknor, who was about to ask more, shut his mouth and stepped back.
“No, no,” she said to him. She was shushing the voices in her head. “They’re loud again. They know. They know I don’t want to go now. Shhhhhh. . . !”
“If you don’t want, you can resist!” Reknor demanded. He was getting angered now, seeing her in this state. “We can gather other shamans, try to calm down the elements. You’re not alone in this!”
Red Earth whimpered as she took a hold of her head again. She fell to her knees, shaking her head vigorously. She started to cry. “No. Nononononono, I can’t-“
Reknor bent down over her and took a hold of her. “You’re a strong, a great, leader. You can resist if you want!”
“Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh, nonono. SHHHHHHH! I’ll go! I’LL GO! LEAVE ME ALONE! I’LL GO!”
Red Earth fell against Reknor, as if she had just been released. She rubbed her head and her face, as she whimpered. She could feel the disappointment from Reknor as she leaned against him. She wiped at her eyes with her shaking hands.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t. I have to go.”
“At least gather the tribe. Explain what’s going on,” he offered.
“Not because they demand me,” she continued.
“Then why?”
Pulling on the rails of the bridge, she raised herself up again. Reknor helped her stand as she shakily held onto the bridge to regain her balance.
“Because the Ancestors say I will. Because my father showed me the vision of the kodo and how they went after the wolves. I do not know what will happen. But they say I will go. And I will listen to them.”
He was confused still by it all, but he said the words anyway. “Of course, I understand. But?”
He could see it in her eyes. There was something more she wanted to say. But Red Earth shook her head, dismissing her last thought. “You are right. I must try and gather the others and tell them what must happen.”
They were quiet now, the voices from the Firelands. The noise had stopped. Red Earth was exhausted, but she was once again calm. They would leave her alone now because she had resolved to listen.
“I’m sorry. You do not know me very well,” she apologized. “And now you’ve seen what is the hardest, yet necessary, part of my life. My visions.”
“No, but I think I would like to know you better. And who knows, we may still get that chance. And, mmph, no matter. I swore loyalty to you and I will never back down from such an oath. If you believe you are doing the right thing. . . .then you have my support.”
“Even into possibly the deadly unknown?”
“I’m an orc. And have you seen the kind of crazy stuff our Warchief orders us into?” Reknor grinned, and it made Red Earth chuckle.
“Thank you, my friend.”
Rest. It was time to rest. She would have to be strong. For the others when she told them. And for herself when she did as she was being told to do.
She had called the brethren of the Ishnu Por Ah to gather. And to those who attended she shared her vision, her plight, and her decision to follow the demands of the Fire. Some understood her choice, some did not. But without even asking, and it was something Red Earth would never have asked, each and every one stood up and said they would go with her. She reminded them of the menacing end of the vision itself,
“. . . . consumed by flame and then nothing but black. . . .”
But it did not deter them. All were determined to go. She worried for their safety, but knew she would never convince them to stand down. And though she feared for their lives, it stirred her heart to know that her “Family”, young and old, stood by her despite the odds. The vision had shown her that the red kodo, her totem and guide, did not hunt alone. And so despite her fears, she would let them go with her.
Not all had come to the meeting. And Red Earth felt obligated to let them all know that they would be taking this journey. And so she sent Brother Mishkwaki to inform them all.
“You will tell them that my visions have sent me on a personal journey to the Firelands and some have determined to go with me unasked. How long the journey will take is unknown and if they would like to know more than they are to find me personally to discuss it. Until my return, you, Brother, are to be the head of the Ishnu Por Ah in my stead. I trust you to make the decisions which are best for them all. Let them know I have said this.”
She also told him to send a slightly different message to Kickfeather. One that would keep her from following. Kickfeather would hate her for doing it when she found out that she was trying to protect her little sister, but Red Earth would face those consequences should she return.
“. . . . consumed by flame and then nothing but black. . . .”
But it did not deter them. All were determined to go. She worried for their safety, but knew she would never convince them to stand down. And though she feared for their lives, it stirred her heart to know that her “Family”, young and old, stood by her despite the odds. The vision had shown her that the red kodo, her totem and guide, did not hunt alone. And so despite her fears, she would let them go with her.
Not all had come to the meeting. And Red Earth felt obligated to let them all know that they would be taking this journey. And so she sent Brother Mishkwaki to inform them all.
“You will tell them that my visions have sent me on a personal journey to the Firelands and some have determined to go with me unasked. How long the journey will take is unknown and if they would like to know more than they are to find me personally to discuss it. Until my return, you, Brother, are to be the head of the Ishnu Por Ah in my stead. I trust you to make the decisions which are best for them all. Let them know I have said this.”
She also told him to send a slightly different message to Kickfeather. One that would keep her from following. Kickfeather would hate her for doing it when she found out that she was trying to protect her little sister, but Red Earth would face those consequences should she return.
They gathered at the Sanctuary. Around them others prepared for battle against the armies of Fire and helped those who returned wounded. Many of the Ishnu Por Ah present had already participated in the efforts of this warfront. But they were not here for the war now.
Red Earth looked at each and every one who could come with her. New and old members of the family, she stood before them and asked them once more if they truly wanted to go forward to what may lead to a grim end. Their experience and loyalty left no doubt in their minds that they would follow her.
With one last grateful nod, she called them all to mount up and head through the portal.
They were whispering her again when the portal was in sight across the valley from the Sanctuary. The voices of the Fire urging her to come to them. As they entered the plane of Fire she was overwhelmed by sensations. It was all she could hear, all she could feel. They were more than voices now. The ground and the air around her felt like they were holding her, hugging her, pulling her, welcoming her. She wasn’t sure if she should be frightened or soothed.
The others looked around as they waited to see where she would lead them. They watched the forces of the Cenarion Circle send forth troops across the fiery planes. Battle raged before them. Red Earth paid little attention to the war as she stepped forward to try and determine where the melodic cacophony that now enveloped her was telling her to go.
“It’s so bleak,” someone commented.
“Bleak? No, not bleak. It’s so alive,” Red Earth replied. She then turned and pointed. “That way. That’s where they are.”
She quickly mounted and led them away from the battle to a place where an impassable carpet of raging flame covered the landscape and stopped them from moving forward.
“That’s where they want me to go,” she said, pointing beyond the great fires. It unsettled the others. How were they suppose to get past? “Brother Kaeevanrash, you must call upon the Waters to protect us. I cannot here. They won’t let me.”
He stepped forward, scratched upon the land with his fingers. Placing a totem before him he called out in Taurahe a prayer to the spirits of Water to aid and guide them. His urgings were heard. A rush of coolness arose around them. They were here to help. Red Earth cringed. It pricked her like icy rain, but it would do what was needed as Kaeevanrash listened to the Waters and began to lead them on a winding, narrow path through the flames which parted as they moved forward. The fires attempted to resist, reaching out to burn them. Some would pierce through the chilling shield and singe their clothing or their fur and skin.
But they made it to the other side and once there, Red Earth led them without hesistation to a place where she began to circle frantically, looking down upon the land. They were singing to her now, a song that made her heart beat stronger. She stamped her hoof, “Here, through here.”
The others searched around, tested the ground themselves. “It’s solid. How are we suppose to break through.”
Red Earth now pulled one of her totems from her belt. “Not for long,” she proclaimed. “Por Ah, guide me!”
She raised it to the sky then slammed it down, ramming it into the ground. Cracks in the earth stretched out from the totem. The ground began to shake and stir. Then suddenly, the earth rose up and swallowed them all.
Red Earth looked at each and every one who could come with her. New and old members of the family, she stood before them and asked them once more if they truly wanted to go forward to what may lead to a grim end. Their experience and loyalty left no doubt in their minds that they would follow her.
With one last grateful nod, she called them all to mount up and head through the portal.
They were whispering her again when the portal was in sight across the valley from the Sanctuary. The voices of the Fire urging her to come to them. As they entered the plane of Fire she was overwhelmed by sensations. It was all she could hear, all she could feel. They were more than voices now. The ground and the air around her felt like they were holding her, hugging her, pulling her, welcoming her. She wasn’t sure if she should be frightened or soothed.
The others looked around as they waited to see where she would lead them. They watched the forces of the Cenarion Circle send forth troops across the fiery planes. Battle raged before them. Red Earth paid little attention to the war as she stepped forward to try and determine where the melodic cacophony that now enveloped her was telling her to go.
“It’s so bleak,” someone commented.
“Bleak? No, not bleak. It’s so alive,” Red Earth replied. She then turned and pointed. “That way. That’s where they are.”
She quickly mounted and led them away from the battle to a place where an impassable carpet of raging flame covered the landscape and stopped them from moving forward.
“That’s where they want me to go,” she said, pointing beyond the great fires. It unsettled the others. How were they suppose to get past? “Brother Kaeevanrash, you must call upon the Waters to protect us. I cannot here. They won’t let me.”
He stepped forward, scratched upon the land with his fingers. Placing a totem before him he called out in Taurahe a prayer to the spirits of Water to aid and guide them. His urgings were heard. A rush of coolness arose around them. They were here to help. Red Earth cringed. It pricked her like icy rain, but it would do what was needed as Kaeevanrash listened to the Waters and began to lead them on a winding, narrow path through the flames which parted as they moved forward. The fires attempted to resist, reaching out to burn them. Some would pierce through the chilling shield and singe their clothing or their fur and skin.
But they made it to the other side and once there, Red Earth led them without hesistation to a place where she began to circle frantically, looking down upon the land. They were singing to her now, a song that made her heart beat stronger. She stamped her hoof, “Here, through here.”
The others searched around, tested the ground themselves. “It’s solid. How are we suppose to break through.”
Red Earth now pulled one of her totems from her belt. “Not for long,” she proclaimed. “Por Ah, guide me!”
She raised it to the sky then slammed it down, ramming it into the ground. Cracks in the earth stretched out from the totem. The ground began to shake and stir. Then suddenly, the earth rose up and swallowed them all.
((Almost two weeks late. I apologize. But life's been busy and haven't had the time to concentrate enough to write things down until now. I hope you enjoy!))
What route they travelled they could not tell as the warm, crumbling earth of the Firelands dragged them into darkness and pushed and pulled from every direction. Then without warning, the darkness split open and bright, orange light blinded them as they tumbled through hot stifling air, finally landing upon the hard rocky floor of a cave.
Helping each other up, one by one they slowly took in their surroundings. The heat was almost unbearable. Fire and lava spit and oozed out from the walls, flowing down and forming thick, fast moving rivers that travelled down into the depths of cavernous tunnels surrounding them. Red Earth had already stepped forward towards the largest of tunnels and stood once again listening for the voices that called to her.
“We’re in the heart of their lands,” she remarked. “Can you hear them? They’re everywhere.”
The others looked at her in confusion as she began to dart back and forth trying to make sense of the voices.
“I hear nothing,” remarked Hoka and Masax echoed his response.
“I don’t have your abilities, I’m afraid,” Reknor also commented.
“But they’re everywhere.”
Suddenly, Red Earth sprinted forward down into the tunnels. All the others could do was give chase. The caverns around them widened, the rivers and pools of lava grew bigger. She ignored their calls as she ran deeper into the growing heat. She began to climb outcroppings, higher and higher where the air only got hotter and it became harder to breath. Yet she continued until she had gone as high as she could go before she collapsed.
What route they travelled they could not tell as the warm, crumbling earth of the Firelands dragged them into darkness and pushed and pulled from every direction. Then without warning, the darkness split open and bright, orange light blinded them as they tumbled through hot stifling air, finally landing upon the hard rocky floor of a cave.
Helping each other up, one by one they slowly took in their surroundings. The heat was almost unbearable. Fire and lava spit and oozed out from the walls, flowing down and forming thick, fast moving rivers that travelled down into the depths of cavernous tunnels surrounding them. Red Earth had already stepped forward towards the largest of tunnels and stood once again listening for the voices that called to her.
“We’re in the heart of their lands,” she remarked. “Can you hear them? They’re everywhere.”
The others looked at her in confusion as she began to dart back and forth trying to make sense of the voices.
“I hear nothing,” remarked Hoka and Masax echoed his response.
“I don’t have your abilities, I’m afraid,” Reknor also commented.
“But they’re everywhere.”
Suddenly, Red Earth sprinted forward down into the tunnels. All the others could do was give chase. The caverns around them widened, the rivers and pools of lava grew bigger. She ignored their calls as she ran deeper into the growing heat. She began to climb outcroppings, higher and higher where the air only got hotter and it became harder to breath. Yet she continued until she had gone as high as she could go before she collapsed.
Reknor was the first to arrive at her side, swearing under his breath as he knelt and took a hold of her unconscious body. He sighed in relief seeing she was still breathing, though ragged and faint. The others soon joined him, encircling her, some near collapsing themselves as they panted, reaching for a good breath from the hot, thick air. Their bodies protested the heat and the dripping sweat which now soaked all of them did little to relieve them.
“Everyone stand back! Give her some air!” Akiae ordered, pushing them away from her. They did as told. He knelt by her as well to check that she was still alive.
“What do we do now?”
This had not been the reason why Red Earth had brought them here. To just chase her around in such a dangerous place only to collapse. But just as the doubting voices began to arise calling for a return home, Red Earth’s body jolted in convulsions. Kaeevanrash rushed to hold her down.
As sudden as her convulsions started, her body then stiffened straight and her eyes shot open, glowing with the brightness of a flame. He quickly pulled himself back in surprise. The touch of her was too hot to bear and he instinctively reached for his totem, gripping it tightly, his body bristling with fear and suspicion. Red Earth stood and gazed at each and every one of them, a singular smile creasing her face.
“This is not our friend,” Akiae declared.
Reknor shook his head, agreeing. “No. . . .I don’t think it is. . . .”
“She brought us things to play with, I see,” spoke Red Earth.
“There is another. . . .Red Earth seems fleeting,” Masax warned, for the voice that escaped Red Earth’s lips was not hers.
The eyes of fire flickered as the smile of the amused spirit within her grew. “Oh, she’s here. She’s where she belongs now.”
“Who are you? What have you done to our Matriarch?” Jindall demanded, readying his weapon to strike.
It seemed little threatened by this move. But its amusement faded as the smile fell away with disinterest and it turned away from them, waving them off. “Thank you for bringing her, you can leave. We’ll meet again when we eat your world.”
Tidestalker stepped in front of her, slamming his spear against the ground. “Matey, yer foolin’ yerself!”
They surrounded her, demanding answers. Who was holding her? What had they done to her? Why did they want her?
“Who are we? We are your masters! Soon enough!” She spun around, glaring at them all and laughed. “Your questions are meaningless. She was given our gifts and now we will use them.”
“None is our master but Por Ah,” Kaeevanrash demanded, his fists clenched, the urge to just grab her strong, but he hesitated having been hurt the last time he had done so.
The others had drawn their weapons and had spells at the ready upon their lips. But Masax raised his hand to them. “Stay your weapons. The elements may have their fangs in her, but I still feel Red Earth’s spirit.”
“You are in our lands! You have no power here!”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Reknor sneered.
“We are here. We’re living proof you are wrong!” Kaeevanrash added.
“Everyone stand back! Give her some air!” Akiae ordered, pushing them away from her. They did as told. He knelt by her as well to check that she was still alive.
“What do we do now?”
This had not been the reason why Red Earth had brought them here. To just chase her around in such a dangerous place only to collapse. But just as the doubting voices began to arise calling for a return home, Red Earth’s body jolted in convulsions. Kaeevanrash rushed to hold her down.
As sudden as her convulsions started, her body then stiffened straight and her eyes shot open, glowing with the brightness of a flame. He quickly pulled himself back in surprise. The touch of her was too hot to bear and he instinctively reached for his totem, gripping it tightly, his body bristling with fear and suspicion. Red Earth stood and gazed at each and every one of them, a singular smile creasing her face.
“This is not our friend,” Akiae declared.
Reknor shook his head, agreeing. “No. . . .I don’t think it is. . . .”
“She brought us things to play with, I see,” spoke Red Earth.
“There is another. . . .Red Earth seems fleeting,” Masax warned, for the voice that escaped Red Earth’s lips was not hers.
The eyes of fire flickered as the smile of the amused spirit within her grew. “Oh, she’s here. She’s where she belongs now.”
“Who are you? What have you done to our Matriarch?” Jindall demanded, readying his weapon to strike.
It seemed little threatened by this move. But its amusement faded as the smile fell away with disinterest and it turned away from them, waving them off. “Thank you for bringing her, you can leave. We’ll meet again when we eat your world.”
Tidestalker stepped in front of her, slamming his spear against the ground. “Matey, yer foolin’ yerself!”
They surrounded her, demanding answers. Who was holding her? What had they done to her? Why did they want her?
“Who are we? We are your masters! Soon enough!” She spun around, glaring at them all and laughed. “Your questions are meaningless. She was given our gifts and now we will use them.”
“None is our master but Por Ah,” Kaeevanrash demanded, his fists clenched, the urge to just grab her strong, but he hesitated having been hurt the last time he had done so.
The others had drawn their weapons and had spells at the ready upon their lips. But Masax raised his hand to them. “Stay your weapons. The elements may have their fangs in her, but I still feel Red Earth’s spirit.”
“You are in our lands! You have no power here!”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Reknor sneered.
“We are here. We’re living proof you are wrong!” Kaeevanrash added.
“NO!” Red Earth screamed, painfully. The voice was hers this time and the glow in her eyes began to fade. Her body once again started to shake. Falling to her knees, her hands grabbing at the ground under her. She hacked and convulsed, vomiting liquid fire.
Masax reached down to touch her, wincing at the heat emanating from her body. “We are here with you still. Fight their lure!”
“We can’t leave her here, let me open a portal!” Reknor yelled. He turned to Red Earth. “Come on! You can leave if you want to!”
“NO! You cannot have her!” the Spirit’s voice rasped. Red Earth bolted upright, pushing away from them. Her face twisted in anger, the brighntess in her eyes blazed strong. “She was born to be among us and here she will stay! A beacon for all, consumed by flame she will be a prophet of our desires!”
“Someone do something! She needs water. Cold! Something!” Akiae yelled angrily.
Red Earth’s eyes began to flare. From her fingers, licks of flame began to flicker. She laughed wildly.
“FAST!” Masax commanded.
All of them did whatever they could, throwing their magics and any other means available to them. Water, wind, ice buffeted against her body, pushing her back. The spirit in her, enraged, let out a roar and dug her hooves into the ground, pushing against their attempts. The flames from her fingers swelled to cover her hands and grow up her arms, fighting their attempts to free her. It swept around her body and wrapped her in a cocoon of raging fire. “SHE IS OURS! You will not have her!”
“MORE! NOW!”
They doubled their efforts, hitting her from all sides, together they nearly knocked her to the ground burying her in a vicious swirl. Underneath, the raging blaze began to ebb.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
The furious yell urged them on. Their combined will taking effect, the flame inching away. Then something changed. The fire looked to become angrier as radiating streaks of red and orange surged growing hotter into a yellow and white burst. It crackled and roared. Instead of flaring out, it began to surge inward. The glow in Red Earth’s eyes disappeared and her face began to contort in pain. She let out a horrific scream as the fire began to burn her instead of surround her.
Some in desperation turned their spells to healing as the nauseating, sulfuric smell of burning fur and skin filled the air with her excruciating screams. Her whole body was being consumed by the fire and she stumbled and flailed wildly. Tidestalker fearlessly reached for her and held onto her to keep her from falling, ignoring the heat and flame despite the pain. Then in one final convulsion, her body shot up once more and the fire peeled from her body, a rush of heat exploding away and searing all around her. They all stepped back in an attempt to protect themselves. Forced to release her, Tidestalker grunted in pain, his hands smoking. Her charred and damaged body collapsed to the ground.
“We. . .have we done it?” Reknor gasped.
Masax reached down to touch her, wincing at the heat emanating from her body. “We are here with you still. Fight their lure!”
“We can’t leave her here, let me open a portal!” Reknor yelled. He turned to Red Earth. “Come on! You can leave if you want to!”
“NO! You cannot have her!” the Spirit’s voice rasped. Red Earth bolted upright, pushing away from them. Her face twisted in anger, the brighntess in her eyes blazed strong. “She was born to be among us and here she will stay! A beacon for all, consumed by flame she will be a prophet of our desires!”
“Someone do something! She needs water. Cold! Something!” Akiae yelled angrily.
Red Earth’s eyes began to flare. From her fingers, licks of flame began to flicker. She laughed wildly.
“FAST!” Masax commanded.
All of them did whatever they could, throwing their magics and any other means available to them. Water, wind, ice buffeted against her body, pushing her back. The spirit in her, enraged, let out a roar and dug her hooves into the ground, pushing against their attempts. The flames from her fingers swelled to cover her hands and grow up her arms, fighting their attempts to free her. It swept around her body and wrapped her in a cocoon of raging fire. “SHE IS OURS! You will not have her!”
“MORE! NOW!”
They doubled their efforts, hitting her from all sides, together they nearly knocked her to the ground burying her in a vicious swirl. Underneath, the raging blaze began to ebb.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
The furious yell urged them on. Their combined will taking effect, the flame inching away. Then something changed. The fire looked to become angrier as radiating streaks of red and orange surged growing hotter into a yellow and white burst. It crackled and roared. Instead of flaring out, it began to surge inward. The glow in Red Earth’s eyes disappeared and her face began to contort in pain. She let out a horrific scream as the fire began to burn her instead of surround her.
Some in desperation turned their spells to healing as the nauseating, sulfuric smell of burning fur and skin filled the air with her excruciating screams. Her whole body was being consumed by the fire and she stumbled and flailed wildly. Tidestalker fearlessly reached for her and held onto her to keep her from falling, ignoring the heat and flame despite the pain. Then in one final convulsion, her body shot up once more and the fire peeled from her body, a rush of heat exploding away and searing all around her. They all stepped back in an attempt to protect themselves. Forced to release her, Tidestalker grunted in pain, his hands smoking. Her charred and damaged body collapsed to the ground.
“We. . .have we done it?” Reknor gasped.
“Somebody give me a hand! Sweetie, I hope stepsister taught me the right things,” Akiae muttered as she crawled to Red Earth’s side and attempted emergency triage. She did not shirk as she turned Red Earth’s blistered and bleeding form to examine her. The druids and shaman came to her side, calling once more on their healing. In their weakened states, it seemed to do little, but it did something, assuring them that their friend was still alive.
Cavern walls around them began to rumble, lava and flames bubbling faster out of crumbling crevices. The burning rivers below becoming faster and wider. Blasting heat and magma towards them, the flows smothered the land around them quickly beginning to rise and turning the high outcropping on which they stood into a shrinking island.
“Get her! We need to get out of here now!” Reknor, drained and worn, pulled whatever strength he could muster and summoned the portal for their escape, tumbling through it after all the others had passed through and barely escaping the reaching flames which caught the edge of his robes on fire.
Cavern walls around them began to rumble, lava and flames bubbling faster out of crumbling crevices. The burning rivers below becoming faster and wider. Blasting heat and magma towards them, the flows smothered the land around them quickly beginning to rise and turning the high outcropping on which they stood into a shrinking island.
“Get her! We need to get out of here now!” Reknor, drained and worn, pulled whatever strength he could muster and summoned the portal for their escape, tumbling through it after all the others had passed through and barely escaping the reaching flames which caught the edge of his robes on fire.
The hot summer evening of Thunder Bluff was like a cool breeze compared to where they had just been. But it did little to relieve them, instead accentuating their exhaustion. Some of them collapsed to the ground as they came through the portal. But little time to rest was had as they hurriedly wrapped Red Earth’s broken body and carried her to a place where they could attend to her.
Akiae quickly set to work on the gruesome task of cleaning and saving what little she could, cutting away at what she could not, Reknor coming to her side to aid where he could. The Tauren healers surrounded their patient and once again called upon their respective spirits to come to their aid. The minion of the Firelands that had taken Red Earth had devastated her body. The nauseating stench, both sweet and putrid, of her peeling burned flesh was something they would not soon forget and no simple healing spell would easily heal.
She was not out of danger when they were finished. But they had done all they could do and Red Earth’s body now lay bandaged and bundled within the safety of Ishnu Por Ah’s lodge. The old Keeper of the lodge, Mishkwaki, was there to see them bring her home. At first shocked and demanding to know what had happened, his demeanor quickly turned to one of understanding as he saw them all worn and shaken.
“Thank you all. She is here and she is alive. That is because of all of you.”
Akiae quickly set to work on the gruesome task of cleaning and saving what little she could, cutting away at what she could not, Reknor coming to her side to aid where he could. The Tauren healers surrounded their patient and once again called upon their respective spirits to come to their aid. The minion of the Firelands that had taken Red Earth had devastated her body. The nauseating stench, both sweet and putrid, of her peeling burned flesh was something they would not soon forget and no simple healing spell would easily heal.
She was not out of danger when they were finished. But they had done all they could do and Red Earth’s body now lay bandaged and bundled within the safety of Ishnu Por Ah’s lodge. The old Keeper of the lodge, Mishkwaki, was there to see them bring her home. At first shocked and demanding to know what had happened, his demeanor quickly turned to one of understanding as he saw them all worn and shaken.
“Thank you all. She is here and she is alive. That is because of all of you.”
((Finally adding after a long while. :) ))
In the days and weeks that followed, Mishkwaki did not leave her side, taking charge of Red Earth’s care. The others would wonder if the old Bull ever got a moment of sleep. No matter what time of day, when any of the others arrived at the lodge, there he sat either by her bedside or just outside the door, quietly greeting them.
He was the first to greet Kickfeather outside the door the night she returned and inform her of what had happened. He could not stop her from nearly pulling the door off when she rushed into the lodge. Kickfeather collapsed to her knees by her sister’s side and sat there helplessly in shock and silence, her hands hovering uncertainly over the bandaged body. Slowly she bent down, finally resting her hands upon her chest and her cheek upon hers. There was no warmth, the bandages so laid thick upon her and for a little while it took all of Kickfeather’s power to keep from more than shivering as she tried to contain her emotions.
But then as suddenly as she had fallen to her sister’s side, Kickfeather bolted up and began to rage, violent epithets surging from her seething breath as she tore through her belongings, gathering up her best weapons, armor and other sundries to go to war. Mishkwaki dared to grab a hold of her and stop her before she left the lodge. The fierce glare she gave him could wither the skin off a Forsaken’s bones.
“She is alive. Do not let me be the one to tell her you are not if she awakes.”
She said nothing in return, shaking her arm free from his hold and tearing the door off as she stormed out. As he stepped out to watch her leave, flying into the darkness of the night sky upon her hippgryph, he said a prayer to Por Ah asking her to keep Kickfeather’s path clear and whispered to the birds nearby to keep an eye on her for him.
In the days and weeks that followed, Mishkwaki did not leave her side, taking charge of Red Earth’s care. The others would wonder if the old Bull ever got a moment of sleep. No matter what time of day, when any of the others arrived at the lodge, there he sat either by her bedside or just outside the door, quietly greeting them.
He was the first to greet Kickfeather outside the door the night she returned and inform her of what had happened. He could not stop her from nearly pulling the door off when she rushed into the lodge. Kickfeather collapsed to her knees by her sister’s side and sat there helplessly in shock and silence, her hands hovering uncertainly over the bandaged body. Slowly she bent down, finally resting her hands upon her chest and her cheek upon hers. There was no warmth, the bandages so laid thick upon her and for a little while it took all of Kickfeather’s power to keep from more than shivering as she tried to contain her emotions.
But then as suddenly as she had fallen to her sister’s side, Kickfeather bolted up and began to rage, violent epithets surging from her seething breath as she tore through her belongings, gathering up her best weapons, armor and other sundries to go to war. Mishkwaki dared to grab a hold of her and stop her before she left the lodge. The fierce glare she gave him could wither the skin off a Forsaken’s bones.
“She is alive. Do not let me be the one to tell her you are not if she awakes.”
She said nothing in return, shaking her arm free from his hold and tearing the door off as she stormed out. As he stepped out to watch her leave, flying into the darkness of the night sky upon her hippgryph, he said a prayer to Por Ah asking her to keep Kickfeather’s path clear and whispered to the birds nearby to keep an eye on her for him.
It was not long before Mishkwaki stood outside the lodge one morning waiting for Kickfeather to return. Mishkwaki already knew some of what had happened to her. The birds had told him how she had gone to Hyjal looking for a fight with the minions of Fire. But they were not able to follow her into the portal that led to the Firelands. But now, many days later, Mishkwaki waited to greet two druids of the Cenarion Circle delivering a badly injured and unconscious Kickfeather.
On the Firelands front she had ignored all orders for organized attacks, setting out on her own to ravage as many of the elementals as she could slam her axe against. Any injuries she sustained did not seem to stop her. And when fighters were sent to retrieve her before her rampage caused more trouble than aid, it took several of them to bring her down. The defenders of Hyjal had classified her a danger both to herself and others on the front and had sent her home to be cared for and hopefully restrained by those responsible for her. At least until she had proven herself willing to fight as part of an army, not as an uncontrollable berserker.
Broken bones, a cracked and bruised hoof and seared skin, Kickfeather would not be leaving the Bluffs anytime soon. Brother Mishkwaki also ensured that by refusing to allow anyone to aid her magically in her healing. She would endure a slow convalescence.
Both bitterly and concededly, Kickfeather succumbed to her fate. Grudgingly, she accepted the wisdom of staying upon the Bluffs while she healed, but it would not keep her from staying cooped up in the lodge. A rather overprotective Kickfeather would be found limping around the city, making sure it was a safe place for her sister to recover and encouraging any who would listen to focus their efforts on destroying any walking, talking flame that came their way.
As for others of the Ishnu Por Ah, they did whatever they could to assist in Red Earth’s recovery. Helping to supply the same remedies which were being used for Hamuul Runetotem to prevent complication and assist the healing. Taking turns redressing her bandages. Simply sitting by her side or keeping Mishkwaki company during his vigil. The ever present Bull would keep them informed about her condition. After a night when she had woken up screaming in agony, he had used what little knowledge he had learned of the Blackhide family’s herbal medicines to keep her sedated and at peace while she healed. Mishkwaki would tell them how she was beginning to dream and how sometimes she muttered in her sleep. And then sometimes they would just sit together outside the lodge to chat, discussing an uncertain future or telling stories.
On the Firelands front she had ignored all orders for organized attacks, setting out on her own to ravage as many of the elementals as she could slam her axe against. Any injuries she sustained did not seem to stop her. And when fighters were sent to retrieve her before her rampage caused more trouble than aid, it took several of them to bring her down. The defenders of Hyjal had classified her a danger both to herself and others on the front and had sent her home to be cared for and hopefully restrained by those responsible for her. At least until she had proven herself willing to fight as part of an army, not as an uncontrollable berserker.
Broken bones, a cracked and bruised hoof and seared skin, Kickfeather would not be leaving the Bluffs anytime soon. Brother Mishkwaki also ensured that by refusing to allow anyone to aid her magically in her healing. She would endure a slow convalescence.
Both bitterly and concededly, Kickfeather succumbed to her fate. Grudgingly, she accepted the wisdom of staying upon the Bluffs while she healed, but it would not keep her from staying cooped up in the lodge. A rather overprotective Kickfeather would be found limping around the city, making sure it was a safe place for her sister to recover and encouraging any who would listen to focus their efforts on destroying any walking, talking flame that came their way.
As for others of the Ishnu Por Ah, they did whatever they could to assist in Red Earth’s recovery. Helping to supply the same remedies which were being used for Hamuul Runetotem to prevent complication and assist the healing. Taking turns redressing her bandages. Simply sitting by her side or keeping Mishkwaki company during his vigil. The ever present Bull would keep them informed about her condition. After a night when she had woken up screaming in agony, he had used what little knowledge he had learned of the Blackhide family’s herbal medicines to keep her sedated and at peace while she healed. Mishkwaki would tell them how she was beginning to dream and how sometimes she muttered in her sleep. And then sometimes they would just sit together outside the lodge to chat, discussing an uncertain future or telling stories.
Abominus had heard of his Beloved's condition, though how none of the other Ishnies could tell. They had, one and all, barred him from her presence. They had made a Wall of Bodies to stop him! This would deter Abominus!
A few days later, a small bit of earth in her room ruptured, and Abominus poked his head out and looked around. He spied Reknor dozing at the side of Red Earth's bed. Moving quietly, he placed a ragged bunch of Iceveil flowers at her side, and a bowl full of snow gathered by hand from the tops of Northrend's highest peaks. Lastly, he placed the crystallized heart of an ice elemental he had hunted down and destroyed in the bowl. Then, carefully, he closed the hole in the ground, and tunneled back to the Pools of vision. A small Maggot wearing leathers, a feather headdress, and wielding a rattlesnake rattle remained to stand vigil, shaking the rattle and chanting, while slithering in a complex pattern on the earth .
A few days later, a small bit of earth in her room ruptured, and Abominus poked his head out and looked around. He spied Reknor dozing at the side of Red Earth's bed. Moving quietly, he placed a ragged bunch of Iceveil flowers at her side, and a bowl full of snow gathered by hand from the tops of Northrend's highest peaks. Lastly, he placed the crystallized heart of an ice elemental he had hunted down and destroyed in the bowl. Then, carefully, he closed the hole in the ground, and tunneled back to the Pools of vision. A small Maggot wearing leathers, a feather headdress, and wielding a rattlesnake rattle remained to stand vigil, shaking the rattle and chanting, while slithering in a complex pattern on the earth .
One afternoon, Reknor returned to the lodge. Taking a seat next to Mishkwaki just outside the door, he did the usual, asking about Red Earth’s condition. The conversation then moved onto other things.
Reknor was an orc with a curious mind. A historian, it was his scholarly interests which had brought him to the Ishnu Por Ah so that he might immerse himself among the Shu’halo people and learn more about their history and culture. The past events, with Red Earth being compelled to follow the voices of a vision into imminent danger, comments of her connection to the elements, gave rise to many questions. Mishkwaki had offered to tell him what he could.
“I have been a loyal servant of the Blackhide family for many years and known the Matriarch since the day she was born. My knowledge about their history is yours.”
“She, and they,” Reknor said, referring to the fire elementals they had faced, “called Red Earth a child of Fire. I want to know more about what this means.”
Mishkwaki nodded, taking a moment to quietly consider where he should begin. They discussed the various elements and how much they were a part of and influenced the world they belonged to. Reknor, being a mage, had knowledge and experience with the use of elemental powers. But he found himself bewildered at how much they affected Red Earth.
“People are made of the same elements as this world. And it is very much believed that the elements can have their influence upon them as well. And that each person is born with an affinity to one element or another. Some show it more than others. And those, like shaman, can be some of the more pronounced.
“Both Kickfeather and Red Earth were born with Fire in their hearts. In Kickfeather it can plainly be seen. She is loud, brash, implusive. Open and undeterred. A fierce warrior that must be reigned in lest she lose control. It is harder to see in the Matriarch’s personality, but it is there, quiet and intense. From time to time you can see it. But she has had the training of her father, a man of the Earth, who taught her how to temper and control it.
“I have always suspected there was more to it, however. That it was not just her father’s patience and influence that dampened the Matriarch’s fiery heart. Her whole life, though she has accepted herself as a child of Fire, she has always struggled with it. What has recently come to pass makes me think once more about what I have wondered. Her father suspected something too. Which is why, when the signs presented themselves, he taught her the ways of the shaman despite her red fur.”
“What does her fur have to do with it?” Reknor asked, curiously.
“She is a Blackhide. Among her family only those born with a pure hide of black are blessed with the connection to the Spirits and Por Ah to guide the Swifthorn tribe. But the Matriarch was born with a hide of red. Or that was what have all decided to believe.
“But look at the time,” Mishkwaki said, pointing with a nod to the setting sun. “The hour grows late and I have talked your ear off enough. It is a long and varied story.”
“You have made me more than curious. And I am still trying to understand. I’m in no rush to be anywhere,” Reknor prodded.
“Very well,” Mishkwaki chuckled and considered where to begin his story. “When Red Earth was born, the midwife swore she was born with black fur. . . .”
Reknor was an orc with a curious mind. A historian, it was his scholarly interests which had brought him to the Ishnu Por Ah so that he might immerse himself among the Shu’halo people and learn more about their history and culture. The past events, with Red Earth being compelled to follow the voices of a vision into imminent danger, comments of her connection to the elements, gave rise to many questions. Mishkwaki had offered to tell him what he could.
“I have been a loyal servant of the Blackhide family for many years and known the Matriarch since the day she was born. My knowledge about their history is yours.”
“She, and they,” Reknor said, referring to the fire elementals they had faced, “called Red Earth a child of Fire. I want to know more about what this means.”
Mishkwaki nodded, taking a moment to quietly consider where he should begin. They discussed the various elements and how much they were a part of and influenced the world they belonged to. Reknor, being a mage, had knowledge and experience with the use of elemental powers. But he found himself bewildered at how much they affected Red Earth.
“People are made of the same elements as this world. And it is very much believed that the elements can have their influence upon them as well. And that each person is born with an affinity to one element or another. Some show it more than others. And those, like shaman, can be some of the more pronounced.
“Both Kickfeather and Red Earth were born with Fire in their hearts. In Kickfeather it can plainly be seen. She is loud, brash, implusive. Open and undeterred. A fierce warrior that must be reigned in lest she lose control. It is harder to see in the Matriarch’s personality, but it is there, quiet and intense. From time to time you can see it. But she has had the training of her father, a man of the Earth, who taught her how to temper and control it.
“I have always suspected there was more to it, however. That it was not just her father’s patience and influence that dampened the Matriarch’s fiery heart. Her whole life, though she has accepted herself as a child of Fire, she has always struggled with it. What has recently come to pass makes me think once more about what I have wondered. Her father suspected something too. Which is why, when the signs presented themselves, he taught her the ways of the shaman despite her red fur.”
“What does her fur have to do with it?” Reknor asked, curiously.
“She is a Blackhide. Among her family only those born with a pure hide of black are blessed with the connection to the Spirits and Por Ah to guide the Swifthorn tribe. But the Matriarch was born with a hide of red. Or that was what have all decided to believe.
“But look at the time,” Mishkwaki said, pointing with a nod to the setting sun. “The hour grows late and I have talked your ear off enough. It is a long and varied story.”
“You have made me more than curious. And I am still trying to understand. I’m in no rush to be anywhere,” Reknor prodded.
“Very well,” Mishkwaki chuckled and considered where to begin his story. “When Red Earth was born, the midwife swore she was born with black fur. . . .”
Deep Sky stared into the bonfire. His gaze fell upon the crackling wood, and he watched as the surface of black char slowly turned into grey ash. Much like the changing of the color of his mane, he thought. At that moment his age felt like it had come too fast. He tried his best to let his thoughts float away with the smoke of the flames or simply concentrate on the conversation of his brother and friend who were discussing the finer points of spear fishing. He considered the beads of sweat upon his snout brought about by the hot autumn day they had just endured as they waited. But the muffled voices, the groans and cries, coming from the tent did not make it easy for his mind to leave the present situation. Especially, when those voices in the tent went silent. The flap of the door was swept aside as the midwife stepped out and approached them. All three bulls looked at her in silent anticipation. She gave Deep Sky a gentle smile and slowly shook her head.
“Not yet, Brother. Just a moment’s rest. I just thought I’d take a moment to check on the father to be,” she smiled, laying a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. “How are you fairing? Normally, the fathers go out hunting, sparring outside the village, something away from here. You know, there’s no shame in not wanting to hear your mate’s cries?”
“I’ve done all that, Sister. And many other things. Whitehoof has been in labor a long time.” He looked out at the long shadows creeping across the glowing red plains. An’she sat lightly over the horizon, beginning to settle in for another night’s rest. It was her sister Mu’sha he had seen there when he had been shuffled out of the tent by the midwife into the darkness. “And I grow impatient,” he admitted.
“Soon. It will be soon,” the midwife comforted. “And the signs are all good, my friend. The spirits are with this child.”
“Let us hope so,” Deep Sky’s brother said, mirroring his own thoughts. His brother looked at him for further reassurance. The shaman simply nodded, and that seemed to comfort him. He had nothing more to say. The spirits had not told him otherwise. But they had not given him confirmation either aside from the fact that he could feel them swimming around the tent. He had to take that as a good sign. The Blackhide family, the whole tribe of the Swifthorns for that matter, were eager for this child to be the one. He was getting on in years. The tribe needed a new shaman.
A voice called from inside the tent. With another comforting pat, the midwife returned and the painful groaning and muffled voices of encouragement resumed. The blazing orange sun being pushed down by the weight of a deepening red sky was almost fully hidden behind the horizon when the voices within changed and rose up in relief and joy. Deep Sky stood and walked to the tent, stopping short of the door, unsure whether or not he should enter. He heard his wife’s tired voice eagerly ask, “Is it what we hoped for?”
“It’s a girl. And see for yourself,” the midwife replied happily.
“Not yet, Brother. Just a moment’s rest. I just thought I’d take a moment to check on the father to be,” she smiled, laying a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. “How are you fairing? Normally, the fathers go out hunting, sparring outside the village, something away from here. You know, there’s no shame in not wanting to hear your mate’s cries?”
“I’ve done all that, Sister. And many other things. Whitehoof has been in labor a long time.” He looked out at the long shadows creeping across the glowing red plains. An’she sat lightly over the horizon, beginning to settle in for another night’s rest. It was her sister Mu’sha he had seen there when he had been shuffled out of the tent by the midwife into the darkness. “And I grow impatient,” he admitted.
“Soon. It will be soon,” the midwife comforted. “And the signs are all good, my friend. The spirits are with this child.”
“Let us hope so,” Deep Sky’s brother said, mirroring his own thoughts. His brother looked at him for further reassurance. The shaman simply nodded, and that seemed to comfort him. He had nothing more to say. The spirits had not told him otherwise. But they had not given him confirmation either aside from the fact that he could feel them swimming around the tent. He had to take that as a good sign. The Blackhide family, the whole tribe of the Swifthorns for that matter, were eager for this child to be the one. He was getting on in years. The tribe needed a new shaman.
A voice called from inside the tent. With another comforting pat, the midwife returned and the painful groaning and muffled voices of encouragement resumed. The blazing orange sun being pushed down by the weight of a deepening red sky was almost fully hidden behind the horizon when the voices within changed and rose up in relief and joy. Deep Sky stood and walked to the tent, stopping short of the door, unsure whether or not he should enter. He heard his wife’s tired voice eagerly ask, “Is it what we hoped for?”
“It’s a girl. And see for yourself,” the midwife replied happily.
Suddenly, it was as if a vortex of hot, rushing air rose up. Deep Sky felt the gently floating spirits whip around wildly and rush through the walls into the tent. The women inside let out fearful gasps and the air was cut by the mewling of a newborn child. He tore away the flap of the door as he rushed in to see what had gone wrong. Before him, the light of the setting sun streaming through the door shone upon the midwife, half blinding her as she struggled to pick up the crying babe from the ground. He caught a glimpse of its wet fur glistening in the sudden light before it was hidden away in the protection of a blanket.
“Oh, Por Ah!” the midwife exclaimed. She looked at him with eyes screaming in apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop her. I don’t know what came over me. I. . .”
“Is she alright,” Whitehoof pleaded.
“Yes, yes. She’s fine. I think she’s fine.” The midwife hurriedly came to Whitehoof’s side and handed her the child. Deep Sky made his way to his wife’s side, kneeling next to her and reaching over to give her a loving kiss upon her brow. Both looked down and watched as the midwife wiped the child clean of the red earth that coated its soft, wet fur. “Yes, she looks fine, she . . .”
“She’s not black,” Whitehoof said, disappointment in her voice.
A look of concern came over the midwife. “No, I. . .I don’t understand.”
“What is it?” Deep Sky asked.
“She was black. Black as the night sky. I swear to you, by the Mother’s mane. I don’t understand. . .”
“A trick of the light, perhaps. It can be hard to see by the light of a single campfire sometimes,” he offered.
“No, Brother, I swear to you. I know what I saw. She was black. And the signs, they always speak true. She was to walk with the spirits.”
“Don’t fret. There is still time. The Blackhides aren’t done yet,” Whitehoof soothed. “And if there is one thing I’ve learned being married as long as I have to this Bull, the spirits are not always very clear with their intentions. She may not be a shaman, but perhaps something else. And look at her. She’s a beautiful baby. Look, my love. Our first child.”
She drew the child closer, comforting it into silence. Taking a hold of her mate’s hand, she placed it upon the baby’s little head. Carefully, he ran his thumb across the tiny forehead, sweeping a lick of red fur across it. She smiled at him and sighed, tired but content. “What shall we name her?”
He looked at the midwife and considered her words. Thought of the spirits and how they had swept into the tent with the light of the setting sun. Considered the cloth still held in the midwife’s hand, the one she had used to try and clean off the dirt from the child’s body. He looked at the newborn calf. Her hide was not black as they had all hoped, but his little red daughter was certainly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Deepsky smiled at her.
“Painted By the Sun”
“Oh, Por Ah!” the midwife exclaimed. She looked at him with eyes screaming in apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop her. I don’t know what came over me. I. . .”
“Is she alright,” Whitehoof pleaded.
“Yes, yes. She’s fine. I think she’s fine.” The midwife hurriedly came to Whitehoof’s side and handed her the child. Deep Sky made his way to his wife’s side, kneeling next to her and reaching over to give her a loving kiss upon her brow. Both looked down and watched as the midwife wiped the child clean of the red earth that coated its soft, wet fur. “Yes, she looks fine, she . . .”
“She’s not black,” Whitehoof said, disappointment in her voice.
A look of concern came over the midwife. “No, I. . .I don’t understand.”
“What is it?” Deep Sky asked.
“She was black. Black as the night sky. I swear to you, by the Mother’s mane. I don’t understand. . .”
“A trick of the light, perhaps. It can be hard to see by the light of a single campfire sometimes,” he offered.
“No, Brother, I swear to you. I know what I saw. She was black. And the signs, they always speak true. She was to walk with the spirits.”
“Don’t fret. There is still time. The Blackhides aren’t done yet,” Whitehoof soothed. “And if there is one thing I’ve learned being married as long as I have to this Bull, the spirits are not always very clear with their intentions. She may not be a shaman, but perhaps something else. And look at her. She’s a beautiful baby. Look, my love. Our first child.”
She drew the child closer, comforting it into silence. Taking a hold of her mate’s hand, she placed it upon the baby’s little head. Carefully, he ran his thumb across the tiny forehead, sweeping a lick of red fur across it. She smiled at him and sighed, tired but content. “What shall we name her?”
He looked at the midwife and considered her words. Thought of the spirits and how they had swept into the tent with the light of the setting sun. Considered the cloth still held in the midwife’s hand, the one she had used to try and clean off the dirt from the child’s body. He looked at the newborn calf. Her hide was not black as they had all hoped, but his little red daughter was certainly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Deepsky smiled at her.
“Painted By the Sun”
Edited by Redearth on 12/2/2011 11:12 AM PST
((Finally taking this up again. It's been awhile. Time to catch folks up on what's happened and get things going forward again.))
A long time had passed since MIshkwaki had ceased giving her the sedatives that kept her from waking during the most traumatic period of her healing. Yet she had still not come out of her coma and, quietly, this worried the old Bull. But he said nothing of this to the others. He continued to remind them of her strength of will and that her time would come when she was ready.
At times, they thought for sure she would soon wake. She would be heard muttering or moaning quietly. She was dreaming, they thought. And once in awhile they would make out a word or a phrase. But the words were never anything that made complete sense or seemed to be a response to anything they said to her. Still hopeful, some would spend time speaking with her, waiting for the day she might talk back.
But they could only wait so long. She had passed the danger of death. With their aid and skills, Red Earth’s eventual recovery was assured, if she awoke. They had tended to her wounds and treatments diligently, doing everything they could to minimize infection and further damage. Over time, the bandages and curatives became fewer, her body soon taking care of its own mending without their aid. As the demands of her care lessened, the demands of their own lives began to beckon more. Personal priorities could take more precedence. And with Mishkwaki always by her side, they knew she would never be left alone.
Many weeks had gone by. Mu’sha had blinked a few times now as the nights had come and gone. Every day and night, Mishkwaki maintained his presence at the lodge, almost never leaving during Red Earth’s infirmary. He had become as much a part of the lodge as the mats upon the floor and the beams which held it together, that on the rare occasions when he was not there to greet them, the others would wonder if something had gone wrong.
As he watched her progress slowly each day, it would bring him quiet joy. He had both protected and served her since the day she was born, the oath he had made to her father long ago being the one guiding principal in his life for decades now. That her young life might have ended before his long and ragged one. . . . The thought of it was almost too much to bear. For so long, he had known almost no other life without her to serve. The loss of her life would have been the loss of his.
He had seen all the twists and turns of her path in life. Good and bad, it had made for a beautiful dance. When she awoke, that dance would continue once more. But he wondered. Would it be the same? Or if it was different, would it be as beautiful? There was nothing he could do for her spirit. That was left for Por Ah to mend while she slept. But as the blackened flesh flaked away to be replaced by twisting welts upon her bare skin, as the seeping wounds crusted over, Mishkwaki began to consider what he might do to bring back her physical beauty.
A long time had passed since MIshkwaki had ceased giving her the sedatives that kept her from waking during the most traumatic period of her healing. Yet she had still not come out of her coma and, quietly, this worried the old Bull. But he said nothing of this to the others. He continued to remind them of her strength of will and that her time would come when she was ready.
At times, they thought for sure she would soon wake. She would be heard muttering or moaning quietly. She was dreaming, they thought. And once in awhile they would make out a word or a phrase. But the words were never anything that made complete sense or seemed to be a response to anything they said to her. Still hopeful, some would spend time speaking with her, waiting for the day she might talk back.
But they could only wait so long. She had passed the danger of death. With their aid and skills, Red Earth’s eventual recovery was assured, if she awoke. They had tended to her wounds and treatments diligently, doing everything they could to minimize infection and further damage. Over time, the bandages and curatives became fewer, her body soon taking care of its own mending without their aid. As the demands of her care lessened, the demands of their own lives began to beckon more. Personal priorities could take more precedence. And with Mishkwaki always by her side, they knew she would never be left alone.
Many weeks had gone by. Mu’sha had blinked a few times now as the nights had come and gone. Every day and night, Mishkwaki maintained his presence at the lodge, almost never leaving during Red Earth’s infirmary. He had become as much a part of the lodge as the mats upon the floor and the beams which held it together, that on the rare occasions when he was not there to greet them, the others would wonder if something had gone wrong.
As he watched her progress slowly each day, it would bring him quiet joy. He had both protected and served her since the day she was born, the oath he had made to her father long ago being the one guiding principal in his life for decades now. That her young life might have ended before his long and ragged one. . . . The thought of it was almost too much to bear. For so long, he had known almost no other life without her to serve. The loss of her life would have been the loss of his.
He had seen all the twists and turns of her path in life. Good and bad, it had made for a beautiful dance. When she awoke, that dance would continue once more. But he wondered. Would it be the same? Or if it was different, would it be as beautiful? There was nothing he could do for her spirit. That was left for Por Ah to mend while she slept. But as the blackened flesh flaked away to be replaced by twisting welts upon her bare skin, as the seeping wounds crusted over, Mishkwaki began to consider what he might do to bring back her physical beauty.
The damage done to Redearth’s body was profound and as the scars formed it was obvious she would be disfigured the rest of her days unless a way was found to restore her beauty. It was a vain request to find such a restorative, he was sure to tell those who he had gathered to help him find what he wanted. And, he was slowly discovering, not an easy thing to find.
The Shu’halo were a pragmatic people. Nomads and hunters for generations, they were a proud and down to earth race, generally more concerned with more practical matters than frivolities. Their ways of magic reflected that. And so the idea of using magic vainly was not of high importance. It was not that it did not exist. But much was illusion or dealt with powers he and certainly the likes of many Shu’halo, including Red Earth, would not allow to be used to help her. So this was the task that he placed before them all. To help find a means to restore her looks that was not mere illusion and did not bow down to the Fel.
A number of ideas were proposed and explored. But one by one, they each proved fruitless. False leads, the materials too much to gather or too rare, the people involved failing in one way or another to follow through on their attempts. But then one night, a number of the Ishnu Por Ah stood in front of him, a little ragged, a little bloodied, a little excited. Kickfeather stepped forward with the much more modest Margaritha before her, prodding the little priest to show the old Bull what they had acquired. From her satchel, Margaritha produced a thick, round, crystalline vial, its contents glowing bright like the sun and bathing the walls of the lodge in a prismatic display of fractured light.
A bit of the Sunwell’s essence had been Margaritha’s idea. A skilled alchemist, she had confidence that with a little experimentation she might be able to create what they had been searching for. The possibility of acquiring it, however, had been extremely slim. The Blood Elves were highly protective of the Sunwell, guarding it almost fanatically and very rarely allowing any strangers access to it, much less even see it. But they had to try and so Margaritha and a few others had gone to the Isle of Quel’danas to try and convince them to donate a small portion. They had returned with no results, disheartened and, in Kickfeather’s case, angry.
The first time.
But Kickfeather’s anger could make her a great motivator at times.
“I see your second round of negotiations went better than expected,” Mishkwaki asked wryly, as he approached the bottle carefully, squinting eyes attempting to get a better look at this small portion of magical essence so enamored by the Elves.
“N-n-negotiations. . . .” Margaritha said, hesitantly. If Forsaken could blush, he imagined she would be doing so now to go along with her small smile of embarrassment.
“No talking needed,” Kickfeather said with confidence. “We went and got what we needed. Now all she’s gotta do is make it work. And she will.”
Kickfeather nodded with finality, gruffly patting her smaller Forsaken friend on the back. But Mishkwaki’s raised brow expressed incredulity, telling them that he was not quite ready to put it at rest. Kickfeather frowned and lifted her posture defensively, shaking her head. “Hey now, we didn’t do anything you or Sis wouldn’t like! Didn’t even touch the Bloody Elves! Well, didn’t kill any, anyway.
“They were mostly distracted. AND any dead ones you hear about wasn’t our fault! Any of the ones we touched will just have headaches when they wake up. Promise! And proof!”
With that, Kickfeather poured out the contents of her own bag, a pair of severed hands falling to the floor. One was the green hand of an orc, the other the pale one of a human, or perhaps a dwarf. Both with tattoos marking their former lives as members of the Twilight’s Hammer.
“We weren’t the only ones who wanted to get to the Sunwell today. We were just quicker and quieter. HA!”
The Shu’halo were a pragmatic people. Nomads and hunters for generations, they were a proud and down to earth race, generally more concerned with more practical matters than frivolities. Their ways of magic reflected that. And so the idea of using magic vainly was not of high importance. It was not that it did not exist. But much was illusion or dealt with powers he and certainly the likes of many Shu’halo, including Red Earth, would not allow to be used to help her. So this was the task that he placed before them all. To help find a means to restore her looks that was not mere illusion and did not bow down to the Fel.
A number of ideas were proposed and explored. But one by one, they each proved fruitless. False leads, the materials too much to gather or too rare, the people involved failing in one way or another to follow through on their attempts. But then one night, a number of the Ishnu Por Ah stood in front of him, a little ragged, a little bloodied, a little excited. Kickfeather stepped forward with the much more modest Margaritha before her, prodding the little priest to show the old Bull what they had acquired. From her satchel, Margaritha produced a thick, round, crystalline vial, its contents glowing bright like the sun and bathing the walls of the lodge in a prismatic display of fractured light.
A bit of the Sunwell’s essence had been Margaritha’s idea. A skilled alchemist, she had confidence that with a little experimentation she might be able to create what they had been searching for. The possibility of acquiring it, however, had been extremely slim. The Blood Elves were highly protective of the Sunwell, guarding it almost fanatically and very rarely allowing any strangers access to it, much less even see it. But they had to try and so Margaritha and a few others had gone to the Isle of Quel’danas to try and convince them to donate a small portion. They had returned with no results, disheartened and, in Kickfeather’s case, angry.
The first time.
But Kickfeather’s anger could make her a great motivator at times.
“I see your second round of negotiations went better than expected,” Mishkwaki asked wryly, as he approached the bottle carefully, squinting eyes attempting to get a better look at this small portion of magical essence so enamored by the Elves.
“N-n-negotiations. . . .” Margaritha said, hesitantly. If Forsaken could blush, he imagined she would be doing so now to go along with her small smile of embarrassment.
“No talking needed,” Kickfeather said with confidence. “We went and got what we needed. Now all she’s gotta do is make it work. And she will.”
Kickfeather nodded with finality, gruffly patting her smaller Forsaken friend on the back. But Mishkwaki’s raised brow expressed incredulity, telling them that he was not quite ready to put it at rest. Kickfeather frowned and lifted her posture defensively, shaking her head. “Hey now, we didn’t do anything you or Sis wouldn’t like! Didn’t even touch the Bloody Elves! Well, didn’t kill any, anyway.
“They were mostly distracted. AND any dead ones you hear about wasn’t our fault! Any of the ones we touched will just have headaches when they wake up. Promise! And proof!”
With that, Kickfeather poured out the contents of her own bag, a pair of severed hands falling to the floor. One was the green hand of an orc, the other the pale one of a human, or perhaps a dwarf. Both with tattoos marking their former lives as members of the Twilight’s Hammer.
“We weren’t the only ones who wanted to get to the Sunwell today. We were just quicker and quieter. HA!”
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