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Tyr cackled.

"He's broken! He's broken!" she screamed.

The harsh, maniacal laugh grew louder and louder. "Let the tears flow," she exclaimed, "Let the tears flow like BLOOD! Know what I've felt! What I've lived with for so long! The game is over, Brontes Emberwing, and YOU'VE LOST!"

A sore winner, the insane elf was. The just laughed and laughed, as the Blood Elf cried and cried.

"And the best part," she called, "NO ONE is going to come save you!"

((I am so, so sorry for vanishing abruptly last night. ><; I'd meant to stay online for two reasons: One, to write at least a couple replies to this, and two, because I...well, I got a little too god-mode/power-play in another RP I did, with a mutual friend of ours, and I felt awful about it. I wanted to stick around, and RP, and make up for my earlier mistake [which has, thankfully, been since retconned].))

((I feel like Drake as a character recently has DEFINITELY become overpowered, and...hell, maybe it's not even Drake as a character. Maybe it's just me. I'm taking too many liberties with people's characters, derailing too many plots, punching holes in other people's storylines...and it's not right. It's not fair to them. It's not right for me to be doing it. And I don't think I'd realized until last night just how bad I am for that.))

((There's been a lot of points where Drake has IC hogged the spotlight, because IRL I just can't will myself to step back. I really, really have to work on that...but I recognize that now. I'm going to try not to do that so much in the future. And so, mutual friend of me and Tyr, since I know you've been reading this thread as well...I am dreadfully sorry for getting so carried away last night.))

((I will do my damnedest not to let it ever happen again. If it does, please do not hesitate to cut me off, shut me up, and retcon on the spot. I want RP to be fun for the people I'm RPing with - the last thing I want to do is sour the experience for anyone, over anything.))

((Anyway, back on track, I vanished last night because IRL someone got hurt last night, and I had to make sure they were okay. It wasn't terribly serious, and everything turned out good, but after a 12-hour field day of film work I pretty much dropped when it was done, with this thread's response half-written on my laptop screen. xD Again, I am very sorry for not explaining this last night, and I am sorry for my abrupt disappearance. Drake and I will BOTH try and be a little more considerate and a little more helpful in the future. Thanks, everyone, for being so patient with me.))

((And now, Tyr, let me return the curve ball post you threw me last night in kind! xD))

Lost...? Yes, he'd lost. The game was over. The battle was over. Drakehide was gone, Bron Emberwing was alone, and...he had lost. He had lost everything. She was right - no one was coming to save him. No one would find him. They left him behind...thought he was dead. Left him in the Stockades.

Something, though, was left unexplained...unresolved. It was something in her response, that disturbed him. A lot. It spoke to something, inside of him. He stopped crying, wiped his eyes, and glanced up. Bron Emberwing was confused...puzzled, by Tyrynna, and puzzled by what she'd just said. He cleared his throat, wiped his eyes and nose, and spoke.

"What you've lived...with...?" he asked, not understanding at first. He glanced around, at the dark room...the shadows...he thought back to the currents, like electricity, arcing through his body, and the visions - those unforgettable, unthinkable images - and he shook his head in shock.

"You feel pain, like mine?" he continued, softly, "You...see visions? Like the ones I saw?"

In a moment...Drakehide returned. The rage, the fire, the anger, it burned deep through him, from his chest down to the pit of his stomach. His eyes felt hot, and he glared up at her, the green glow around his eyes fading enough to expose them - exhausted, red veins running through them, bloodshot.

He felt...vengeful. But not like he had before. It was that same vengeance he had felt when Kiesticus had tormented Vel, for so long. It was that same vengeance he had felt burning in him when Pakaza had knocked Kagran unconscious. It was that same vengeance he felt, now, for whoever had put Keedriel through so much torment. It was the same vengeance he felt towards the Loa who possessed Fearow. It was that vengeance he'd carried with him into Northrend, after he'd hurt Fehl, fighting off Scourge as a sort of penance for his failings, all of those weeks ago.

He was vengeful. No..."vengeful" was the wrong word. Protective? Perhaps...perhaps that was better.

He couldn't fathom why Tyr had been so cruel to him...and so, he couldn't fathom why another being, whoever they were, could have been so cruel to her. Drakehide knew, though, that despite Tyr's needless agenda against him he had failings - failings that warranted, and justified this pain he'd experienced. He knew he had faults. He had hurt people, killed people, ruined lives, ruined families. He had destroyed countless homes, in his campaigns, especially in Ashenvale.

His story was written in blood, and sooner or later, vengeance would be called on, and it would not be on his side. The blood he'd spilled would follow him, hunt him to death and into the Nether.

And so...he could justify - almost - justify his own suffering. He could understand it. What he didn't understand was why someone would inflict this same pain on her.

"Your pain...was it unwarranted? Unprovoked? Needless, like mine?" he spat, quivering, "Tell me...tell me who has done this!" He stood, slowly, to his feet, the saronite plates that covered his body clinking together as he stood, preparing himself. "I will make them pay," he scowled, "Whatever spell has been placed on you, I will see it undone. And I will see they...they never...inflict this on anyone...again..."

Were the words hollow? Not to Drakehide. He meant every word, every fiber of it. Whether he could actually make good on these words, he did not know, but right now it did not matter. There was rage. There was hate. There was anger. There was vengeance. But, knowing what he did now, that vengeance could hardly be cast in Tyr's direction, or against her directly.

No...now, knowing what he did, what he felt for Tyr was sympathy...sadness...a need to protect her, the same way that he felt a need to protect all his other friends. To take their pain, so they had no more need to bear it. To let the blows strike his own flesh, instead of theirs.

"Whoever...has...done this to you...I...will put out their eyes," Drakehide spat, "That they might never read a tome again. I will cut out their tongue, that they will never cast another spell. I will cut off their ears, and I will punch their teeth down their throat! And do you know why, Tyrynna? Do you know why? BECAUSE IT WILL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!"

He was...now, and always...Drakehide. The blood elf, with skin thick like a dragon's. Mok'Rukh's boy.

And now...in some sick, strange way...he was starting to count Tyrynna as one of his friends.

Tyrynna was shocked. The malicious grin was wiped from her face in an instant. The blood red glow faded, revealing violet eyes glistening with tears.

"...You don't seem to understand, Emberwing..." she muttered. "No one did this to me but myself. I'm a victim of my own insanity, nothing more, nothing less."

Her tone was harsh, but riddled with misery. Her face conveyed a century of hardship and responsibility.

"You don't understand," she repeated. A tear streaked down her cheek as she spoke again. "No one understands, Brontes, no one can, no one will. And I certainly don't expect some Orc-wannabe to understand, so don't act like you do!"

Tyr clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "You have every right," she muttered, "to cast me your vengeance..." She looked the blood elf in the eye. "So do it. Let all your hate out on me, should you see it fit. I deserve it!"

Tyrynna clenched her teeth in pain. The same agony that had been inflicted on Drakehide was returning to punish her for such needless violence. Yet still, she remained glaring at the Blood Elf.

It was then that Drakehide realized that his blade and shield were at his feet.

Did she really want him to do it?

The Son of Rukh simply stared at Tyrynna, unsure whether to take the opportunity or be horrified.

"Finish it," she muttered through clenched teeth. "You damn fool, finish it!"

Drakehide glanced down at the sword and shield, then up at Tyrynna in shock, and then back down. He found himself thinking himself through what was slowly becoming an impossible choice.

Sons of Rukh, incidentally, do not generally like impossible choices. It makes their heads hurt, and usually makes their tempers flare. This time, though...Drakehide found himself, slowly, methodically, logically trying to think himself through this one, attempting to choose as best he could. The greatest reason that he was letting his mind govern his actions, at this point, was that his heart was dragging him in too many to count.

She had tortured him. She had tortured him, beaten him, bombarded him. He had submitted...he had broken, from her assault. She had captured him and committed against him perhaps the most hurtful, degrading dishonor that anyone had ever inflicted on him. And...when he had directed his rage, his anger elsewhere...when he had extended the hand of friendship...she had admitted full responsibility for what she had done, and asked him, honorably, to end her life. It would end her suffering. It would end whatever pain she was feeling. It would keep her from exercising this suffering, this pain on anyone else. Perhaps...this was really for the best.

Drakehide took up his sword, the saronite edge shrieking indignantly as it made its ascent, the blade dragged against the solid floor producing several sparks. He glanced at it, then at Tyr, then at the blade again...and what he saw in that blade was his own reflection. Depending on how he held the blade...the reflection would change. Drakehide, then Tyr, then Drakehide, then Tyr.

Were they more alike than unalike, perhaps? He was a soldier of the Horde, or...he had been, for many years. He had hurt, killed, committed atrocities and actions that kept him awake at night...yes, he could kill her, and exact his "vengeance", but one of these days vengeance would not be on his side, and would not be kind to him. The methods were different, but...the crime remained largely the same. She was clearly many things - but she had shown that she was not heartless, and not without morals. Now, she was experiencing the same pain that Drakehide had, earlier. The same pain that had wracked him now appeared to be coursing through her, and he felt...great sympathy for her.

What was it, that he'd said all those days ago, in that foolish letter, after that foolish invasion of Darnassus - however many days it had been by now - ? That her "aggressive act would cost her dearly"? That he would cut her down "on a field of her choosing"? That "this was personal"? "My name is Drakehide - prepare to die," he'd said. Looking back, the words seemed so...so...

He closed his eyes. He turned, slightly, and stormed forward. He drove the blade in. Drove it in, right up to the hilt. Drove it in, snarling and cursing and growling. Drove it in, full of rage, and anger, and fire. He couldn't watch. He couldn't bring himself to. He drove that blade in, like he'd never driven a blade in before.

And, by Rukh's axe, it would take a half-dozen men with arms like the son of Rukh had never seen if they hoped to drag that blade out from where he'd rested it deep inside the dark, silent walls of his prison. Tyrynna still stood there, behind him, untouched by the blade. He had missed her altogether. Avoided her altogether.

Now, no one would be killing anyone, in here. Not again.

"We each carry pain of our own," Drakehide spoke, unusually soft, "For each of us...that pain is different. It carries a different weight. But...but we must remain strong. We must stay alive. When...when that pain comes, we must become masters over that pain...not let it be master over us..."

Drakehide turned, releasing the blade-hilt from his grip, and stepping towards her so that they were face-to-face, divided by only a few feet of space.

"You...are not, perhaps, as...as mad as you claim you are," Drakehide suggested, "At least...I...do not think you are. If you were completely mad, Tyrynna, I would...still be bound, watching those...images. Feeling...what you are feeling now. There...there remains goodness in you. Honor. And...and for me to take your life...I...I cannot help feeling that it would dishonor...the good in you. The honor you have shown me."

He sighed, deeply, glancing down at the ground for a moment, and then back up to her. He tugged off his gauntlets and then reached out, taking Tyrynna into a warm, consoling hug. While also trying not to impale her on his saronite armor's many spikes, of course.

"If you truly want me to kill you, and end your pain...one day I will," Drakehide continued, "But...not like this. You should die better. On the battlefield. We are warriors, both. I...I would see you die a warrior's death. And...one day, should you end my own life, Tyrynna, I would ask only the same death in return."

Again, the elf stood somewhat shocked. Slowly, her lips curled into a slight smile. Not the maniacal grin she'd worn previously, but a true, genuine smile. After a long pause, she finally spoke.

"...Thanks."

She then stepped back, away from the somewhat spiky elf hug.

She disappeared.

The endless expanse of darkness began to fade.

The suddenly exhausted Son of Rukh fell to slumber once again.

* * *

Darkness. Everything was darkness, and silence.

A familiar feeling to the Son of Rukh.

For a moment, Drakehide could hear nothing, save for the echo of his own breathing. He knew he was not in the Stockades, for the air was not as arid or stale.

Drakehide began to wonder if the final encounter was just a dream, if he was still a prisoner.

No.

Slowly, his senses returned to him. He could hear the song of mountain birds in the distance. He caught the scent of pine trees. His limbs were starting to numb from the cold air. He could feel snowflakes falling on his face.

Slowly, Drakehide opened his eyes, revealing the snow-sovered lands of Winterspring.

The bonfire of the barrens have been cackling wildly for several hours now. THe two orcs slept, back to back slouched over the table. Both were thoroughly covered in bits of food, a large carcess sitting some ways away. It had been a good feasting.

((Sorry, don't have time to reply right now...on my lunch break at work, and was able to get back to my place and sign online for a few minutes. Just gotta say...wow. Wow, wow, wow. Tyr, I's had a tremendously fun time with this RP. Hope we can bounce more ideas around, for developments in the future - ESPECIALLY given all the crazy, wild stuff that's happened in the world since Drake was captive! Will do a full proper post ASAP, just still have to work till about midnight over here. *grumble*))

((And by the way...by the way...I thought of one other crazy, awful, WILD twist based on current in-game events that would...well, it occured to me at work this evening and I'll run it by you later.))

((And PS, Bralox, thank you for bringing a great deal of silliness before mine eyes, and bringing me much-needed laughter. The cake, the second cake, and the meat cake sequences were brilliant.))

((See y'all soon! Will add a reply as soon as I can.))

EDIT: ((As a footnote to the following post, I will say that Drake's current internal bad mood is strictly IC. ^^ I am WAY excited to have Drakey released, and I can't wait to start RPing with you all again! Aeshi, Keed, Akira, and all my other Homeland peeps [including Protection Orc], that means you! ^^))

The ground was frozen. On top of that ground was at least a good foot of snow. There were trees, littered with frost and ice in the distance, and somewhere in the distance he could hear the sounds and cries of creatures, wild creatures. Birds...mostly birds, but many other sounds.

The Stockades...the dark room...this was neither of those places. Was it all just...a bad dream? Where was he...? How had he come to this place...?

Was he in Zul'Drak again? In Northrend? Had he died? Was he dying? Where was...

"Aeshi...?" he groaned, as the wind whipped against his face. "Aeshi - !" He raised a hand up, took off his gauntlet, and peeled little flecks of ice and snow from his eyes, his nose, his lips. He put the gauntlet back on, and shielded himself from the approaching storm. The Scourge could be anywhere...watching him...stalking him...waiting for him to make just one mistake, fall back just far enough to land in their grasp...

No...something was wrong. This was not Northrend. This was not Zul'Drak. He had been somewhere...a small, dark, silent room. Tyrynna, the night elf who had shot him, she had been there...she had...

Drakehide immediately whirled around, his eyes darting back and forth, scouring the frozen landscape around him for some sign of the dark room. This was not where he'd fallen asleep - he couldn't even remember falling asleep. One moment, Tyrynna was stepping back from him...and the next...she was gone.

She had...let him go. She had let him escape. Why...why would she do that? She...had him at her mercy. She could have killed him, tortured him indefinitely, tortured him until...until...

Drakehide realized, with shame, that there would have been no need for her to torture him any further. He'd broken, at her hands. He would have done anything to make it stop. Anything. He was shamed...disgraced...damaged.

But...she had let him go. She, at the end of it all, had shown him...kindness...

Drakehide felt a wide range of emotions, sensations. More than anything else...he felt confused. He was not sure right now what to think, or why to think it. What he knew, though, was that he was lost, right now.

The hue of the snow was a curious shade of violet...

...a frostsaber roared in the distance...

...he could see small, abandoned huts that looked Furbolg in the distance...

Winterspring. He was in Winterspring. What in the Nether was he doing in Winterspring?

First thing was first: He had to find his way back to Orgrimmar.

How long had he been gone? What had he missed? What had happened to all of his friends? He had to find his way back to the others. That arrow, back in the Stockades, had come dangerously close to Akira. Keedriel, for all he knew, was still going insane. Fearow was still possessed. And now, with Pakaza out of the Stockades, for all he knew the hunter was rampaging his way across the continent at large again. Fehl...Fehl, where was Fehl? He had last heard she was in Uldum, of all places. Was she also in need of his aid...? He had to make sure that everyone was alright. He had to make sure they were safe...

And of all of them, one stood out: Aeshi. Was Aeshi alright? Was she still in the Echo Isles, waiting for him? She had always been so patient with him, so kind to him, so...forgiving. Would she be upset at him, for having vanished for so long, without a word? Would she...still want him, after all that had happened? After he'd broken, at the hands of a night elf...? At the hands of the Alliance...?

And then...a darker train of thought seized him. Turned him cold. Turned his hide even thicker than it had been before. The mission in the Stockades had been a success: Pakaza had been rescued, and was alive. It had gone over without a hitch. Within a single evening, Roriel had succeeded in rallying an entire force to his cause, some of Homeland's best. Pakaza, who had caused mayhem, death, destruction, madness, and chaos of late was rescued by his friends.

So...where was his rescue party? Where were the Homelanders who he'd thought of, and worried about, during his imprisonment? Were they here, in Winterspring, waiting for him? Looking for him?

Where was Fehl? Where was Aeshi?

Drakehide was struck with the realization that if Tyrynna hadn't let him go...he would still be back there, rotting in the dark, silent little room.

The room was gone, but the darkness and the silence were here, in this place, with him...in the center of the storm, as the wind whipped at his face, he found himself realizing just how alone he was. The Horde had abandoned him. Homeland had left him for dead. And Aeshi...

Drakehide started the long walk back towards...anywhere. He did not know this place. He did not like this place.

But it was quiet. And right now, Drakehide decided that he did not want company.

Right now, all the warrior wanted was to be left alone.

The crunching of heavily booted feet possibly caught the elf's attention. IF not the smaller boots of the orc Shaman, then perhaps the much larger footfalls of the Semi grown Venomhide Ravasaur at his shoulder. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH. Went the snow beneath his feet. The Ravasaur whined, Bralox reaching back to pat his snout. A few of the scales on it's back were loose, having brushed off when the orc had brought him through the land of the Timbermaws. He grinned, putting a hand over his eyes to block the sun and looking off into the distance. "Bralox see Yeti." He turned to the Ravasaur ."Sue hungry?" He asked. The small kitten perched on Sue's nose mewed at him. He chuckled. "Fluffy hungry." His stomach growled. "Bralox hungry too.." He pondered for several long seconds. "First hunt for Sue, then go goblin town for eat." Taking out his mace, Bralox began the comical task of trying to sneak a devilsaur up on it's pray.

((The name makes me have to ask - did someone kill your father?))

((Not that I know of. His parents died in the camps.))

((Heya! Uh...should have posted this sooner, but IC Drake did finally make his way out of Winterspring last night. ^^; Sorry, Bralox. However! There is still a thread I have active at the moment, and Bralox, Mok'Rukh, and their "meat cake barbeque" may or may not have made a cameo appearance...))

((The link's here, if you want to check it out: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/4038614251 ))

((Again, sorry for the confusion. ^^; Meant to post a message effectively closing the story on this thread for now, but completely forgot. xD))

((With that being said, the scene in your post still did make me laugh. ^^ Bralox is a brilliant, brilliant character, and I hope to RP with you more in the future!))