The ground was barren
and torn to shreds by magic. It leaked from the wounded earth, its
purple light leeching into the very sky and creating fantastical spires
of strange twisted metal growths. Mariskka 'tsked' slightly as she
surveyed the landscape, seeing firsthand the devastation caused in the
Twilight Highlands by the Twilight's Hammer. It was just as bad in other
parts of the world she knew, but seeing it like this from the back of
her gryphon really gave her an appreciation for how dire the threat was,
and how important it was to aid against this growing darkness.
As she turned her mount around for one last pass over the dreary scene below, her keen eyes picked out a sight that sent a jolt of worry through her. Amongst the tents and encampments that the Twilight's Hammer had set up at the base of their mighty bastion, a number of cages had been erected. Even from the great height at which she flew, Mariskka could make out tiny shapes within those cruel metal prisons.
Dwarves. At least a dozen, possibly an entire family or clan. She could see smaller shapes amongst them, the children of whatever unfortunate Wildhammer village the Twilight's Hammer had raided. She knew she couldn't just leave them there, not with the slave mines she'd already observed and the sacrificial altars that dotted the landscape. Her face set, the shaman guided her gryphon into a nearby ravine, quickly dismounting and sending it on its way.
She made her way carefully across the broken landscape, taking care to keep as low to the ground as her form would allow. She wanted to avoid being spotted as she attempted to free the prisoners. Given her large size and loud hooves, Mariskka was relatively surprised to find herself quickly making her way to the back of the cages, unnoticed in the heart of Twilight held territory. She made her way around to the side of the cages, even as the dwarves within noticed her and frantically gestured at her to set them free.
Mariskka made a hushing gesture with her hand, carefully setting her mace and shield down as she slid up to the lock on the front of the cage. She was in no way skilled at picking locks, and it took many agonizing minutes and not a few spells to finally free the first group of prisoners. They crowded around her, encouraging her as she slowly made her way down the line of cages, coming to the last one. It was here that she had the most difficulty with the lock, and she spent many minutes trying in vain to break the steel bolt keeping the dwarven prisoners inside. Failing to weaken the device, the shaman made her way around the exterior of the cage, looking for weaknesses in the metal. It was then that she made her first mistake.
She tripped over one of the tie-lines keeping a nearby tent upright. Her heavy hoof severed the line, which snapped back towards the tent. Instantly the makeshift structure collapsed, fabric raining down on the cultists that had been within it. They began to shout, thrashing around in the material as more cultists took up the cry, running from other nearby tents. Mariskka's secrecy had been shattered.
"Oh no!" she squeaked, seeing the rush of angry Twilight's Hammer emerging from the tents all around. She turned and quickly pointed at the lock on the cage. A shock of freezing cold frost struck the bolt, shattering it with a loud crash of metal breaking. Speed was far more important than stealth now.
As the last of the dwarves made their way from the cage, two things happened. The cultists that had been buried beneath the fabric of their tent emerged from the ruins and slammed into the first wave of cultists that was rushing towards the escaped dwaves. With a loud *thud* bodies collided with each other and a writhing mass of angry cultists fell to the barren ground, cursing each other. This fortunate event was quickly followed by the unfortunate accident of Mariskka tripping over another tent's tie-lines.
The rope that had encumbered her hoof snapped, wrapping around her leg and tent, shaman, and equipment racks that had been stacked within the tent all collapsed onto the ground. Mariskka scrambled to free her leg from the rope and her body from the material as she could hear more cultists running towards their location, and the ones already there sorting themselves out of the pile they had ended up in. She shoved material out of her face with a hand, clearing her line of sight to take in something that chilled her to the bone; a large group of angry cultists was rushing towards the freed dwarves, who cowered weaponless outside of the cages that she had just freed them from.
It was then that something happened which Mariskka had rarely experienced; her cycles of life overlapped one another. She had lived many centuries, and seen things both horrible and amazing in that time. In that moment, she didn't see the dwarves cowering before their enemies and she didn't see cultists rushing to butcher them; she saw demon-tainted orcs rushing to slaughter draenei children, a sight she had seen long ago and which, at the time, she had been able to do nothing about. For that moment, she was living a former life in a time when she had been forced to witness great darkness. The parallels between the two times and places were so uncanny that she felt goosebumps on her skin as she realized what it meant.
I am here for a reason. It is my destiny.
This time was not like her previous life in Nagrand. She was not a helpless priestess of the Light, unable to assist the weak in war. She had been reborn through countless hardships, adventures, and years of wandering that those events had pushed her to do. Many considered her a simple creature because of her inability to stay in one place and her lack of focus on danger, but she understood what it was to stand against darkness.
A peal of thunder rumbled in the distance as her hand slid down to the remains of the tent around her, grabbing the first thing she could find; one of the cultist's own axes that had been on the weapons racks within the tent. Her other hand closed around the haft of a second axe from the pile and she rose slowly, stepping between the angry cultists and the prisoners.
"Be going!" she called to the dwarves as she faced down the mob of rabble that had come to slay them.
One of the dwarves shook his head, "No lass. This is our fight too. We'll not leave you to fight 'em alone."
"Are having children here. Must be saving them, yes," She said calmly, her eyes not leaving the foe as they spread out to surround her. "Vill stall them until you are being safe. Is being my place."
The dwarf nodded slowly, looking back at the crowd of prisoners. At least five of them were children, and he knew they'd need to be led from the cultist camp before they were recaptured and sacrificed. "Aye lass. We'll be takin' 'em to safety, but don't think we ain't comin' back for yah."
Mariskka didn't hear him or see him. Around her, the very air itself whispered to her, the spirits of those she couldn't save all those years ago encouraging her. The elements of the highlands, so twisted by what the cultists had done cried out to her for revenge, sought to teach her what she needed to do. The sounds filled her mind and she stepped forward, almost in a trance.
The first cultist lunged, blade extended towards her. It hit nothing, for the wind had already whispered a warning to her and she was already moving. A second blade slashed forward, met by the head of an axe. A cultist had to dive as the second axe spun around at head height. A third cultist ran in, cracking the draenei in the hip with a mace only to drop it as lightning stung his hand.
The dwarves fled with their young back into the safety of the ravine that the shaman had come from, even as the air around Mariskka surged with fierce winds. Her axes lashed out again, shattering the blade of a cultist. Her hoof stomped down, crushing a foot as she whirled out of the way of another attack. Lightning crackled around the combatants, throwing cultists away.
The last dwarf in line paused before he descended into the ravine, turning to take one last look at the draenei that was willing to sacrifice herself for strangers. His eyes widened as spirits whirled in the air around her, taking on the forms of wolves and leaping on the enemies that surrounded her. He could barely see her amidst the raging wind, flickers of lightning and dust kicked up from the battle.
"Give 'em hell lass," He said quietly before following the others, seeing to the safety of the children she was buying time for.
As they pressed deeper into the ravine, the last thing they heard was the mournful howl of a ghostly wolf, echoing in the charred hills.
*****************************
Hours later Mariskka's eyes opened, seeing the twilight tinged sky far above her, drakes circling in the distance. A pair of eyes and a stout dwarven beard leaned down over her, a look of concern on his face.
"Easy lass, you're hurt bad," he said softly. "We came back for yah, just like I promised."
Mariskka said nothing, could say nothing as a small group of dwarven raiders lifted her from the ground where she'd been laying for hours, bearing her towards the safety of the nearby ravine and later towards one of the remaining Wildhammer strongholds in the hills so her wounds could be tended. She was too weak to respond, too tired to answer them.
As she was carried away from the site of battle, she did manage to tilt her head to see the ruins of the camp where she had fought, and the unconscious and slain foes that had laid around her. She smiled slightly before she passed out again.
She had finally put to rest one last piece of an old life, had given peace to a few more spirits that now lived on happily in their new lives. She had done something good here, and it would comfort her in her current cycle of life.
As she turned her mount around for one last pass over the dreary scene below, her keen eyes picked out a sight that sent a jolt of worry through her. Amongst the tents and encampments that the Twilight's Hammer had set up at the base of their mighty bastion, a number of cages had been erected. Even from the great height at which she flew, Mariskka could make out tiny shapes within those cruel metal prisons.
Dwarves. At least a dozen, possibly an entire family or clan. She could see smaller shapes amongst them, the children of whatever unfortunate Wildhammer village the Twilight's Hammer had raided. She knew she couldn't just leave them there, not with the slave mines she'd already observed and the sacrificial altars that dotted the landscape. Her face set, the shaman guided her gryphon into a nearby ravine, quickly dismounting and sending it on its way.
She made her way carefully across the broken landscape, taking care to keep as low to the ground as her form would allow. She wanted to avoid being spotted as she attempted to free the prisoners. Given her large size and loud hooves, Mariskka was relatively surprised to find herself quickly making her way to the back of the cages, unnoticed in the heart of Twilight held territory. She made her way around to the side of the cages, even as the dwarves within noticed her and frantically gestured at her to set them free.
Mariskka made a hushing gesture with her hand, carefully setting her mace and shield down as she slid up to the lock on the front of the cage. She was in no way skilled at picking locks, and it took many agonizing minutes and not a few spells to finally free the first group of prisoners. They crowded around her, encouraging her as she slowly made her way down the line of cages, coming to the last one. It was here that she had the most difficulty with the lock, and she spent many minutes trying in vain to break the steel bolt keeping the dwarven prisoners inside. Failing to weaken the device, the shaman made her way around the exterior of the cage, looking for weaknesses in the metal. It was then that she made her first mistake.
She tripped over one of the tie-lines keeping a nearby tent upright. Her heavy hoof severed the line, which snapped back towards the tent. Instantly the makeshift structure collapsed, fabric raining down on the cultists that had been within it. They began to shout, thrashing around in the material as more cultists took up the cry, running from other nearby tents. Mariskka's secrecy had been shattered.
"Oh no!" she squeaked, seeing the rush of angry Twilight's Hammer emerging from the tents all around. She turned and quickly pointed at the lock on the cage. A shock of freezing cold frost struck the bolt, shattering it with a loud crash of metal breaking. Speed was far more important than stealth now.
As the last of the dwarves made their way from the cage, two things happened. The cultists that had been buried beneath the fabric of their tent emerged from the ruins and slammed into the first wave of cultists that was rushing towards the escaped dwaves. With a loud *thud* bodies collided with each other and a writhing mass of angry cultists fell to the barren ground, cursing each other. This fortunate event was quickly followed by the unfortunate accident of Mariskka tripping over another tent's tie-lines.
The rope that had encumbered her hoof snapped, wrapping around her leg and tent, shaman, and equipment racks that had been stacked within the tent all collapsed onto the ground. Mariskka scrambled to free her leg from the rope and her body from the material as she could hear more cultists running towards their location, and the ones already there sorting themselves out of the pile they had ended up in. She shoved material out of her face with a hand, clearing her line of sight to take in something that chilled her to the bone; a large group of angry cultists was rushing towards the freed dwarves, who cowered weaponless outside of the cages that she had just freed them from.
It was then that something happened which Mariskka had rarely experienced; her cycles of life overlapped one another. She had lived many centuries, and seen things both horrible and amazing in that time. In that moment, she didn't see the dwarves cowering before their enemies and she didn't see cultists rushing to butcher them; she saw demon-tainted orcs rushing to slaughter draenei children, a sight she had seen long ago and which, at the time, she had been able to do nothing about. For that moment, she was living a former life in a time when she had been forced to witness great darkness. The parallels between the two times and places were so uncanny that she felt goosebumps on her skin as she realized what it meant.
I am here for a reason. It is my destiny.
This time was not like her previous life in Nagrand. She was not a helpless priestess of the Light, unable to assist the weak in war. She had been reborn through countless hardships, adventures, and years of wandering that those events had pushed her to do. Many considered her a simple creature because of her inability to stay in one place and her lack of focus on danger, but she understood what it was to stand against darkness.
A peal of thunder rumbled in the distance as her hand slid down to the remains of the tent around her, grabbing the first thing she could find; one of the cultist's own axes that had been on the weapons racks within the tent. Her other hand closed around the haft of a second axe from the pile and she rose slowly, stepping between the angry cultists and the prisoners.
"Be going!" she called to the dwarves as she faced down the mob of rabble that had come to slay them.
One of the dwarves shook his head, "No lass. This is our fight too. We'll not leave you to fight 'em alone."
"Are having children here. Must be saving them, yes," She said calmly, her eyes not leaving the foe as they spread out to surround her. "Vill stall them until you are being safe. Is being my place."
The dwarf nodded slowly, looking back at the crowd of prisoners. At least five of them were children, and he knew they'd need to be led from the cultist camp before they were recaptured and sacrificed. "Aye lass. We'll be takin' 'em to safety, but don't think we ain't comin' back for yah."
Mariskka didn't hear him or see him. Around her, the very air itself whispered to her, the spirits of those she couldn't save all those years ago encouraging her. The elements of the highlands, so twisted by what the cultists had done cried out to her for revenge, sought to teach her what she needed to do. The sounds filled her mind and she stepped forward, almost in a trance.
The first cultist lunged, blade extended towards her. It hit nothing, for the wind had already whispered a warning to her and she was already moving. A second blade slashed forward, met by the head of an axe. A cultist had to dive as the second axe spun around at head height. A third cultist ran in, cracking the draenei in the hip with a mace only to drop it as lightning stung his hand.
The dwarves fled with their young back into the safety of the ravine that the shaman had come from, even as the air around Mariskka surged with fierce winds. Her axes lashed out again, shattering the blade of a cultist. Her hoof stomped down, crushing a foot as she whirled out of the way of another attack. Lightning crackled around the combatants, throwing cultists away.
The last dwarf in line paused before he descended into the ravine, turning to take one last look at the draenei that was willing to sacrifice herself for strangers. His eyes widened as spirits whirled in the air around her, taking on the forms of wolves and leaping on the enemies that surrounded her. He could barely see her amidst the raging wind, flickers of lightning and dust kicked up from the battle.
"Give 'em hell lass," He said quietly before following the others, seeing to the safety of the children she was buying time for.
As they pressed deeper into the ravine, the last thing they heard was the mournful howl of a ghostly wolf, echoing in the charred hills.
*****************************
Hours later Mariskka's eyes opened, seeing the twilight tinged sky far above her, drakes circling in the distance. A pair of eyes and a stout dwarven beard leaned down over her, a look of concern on his face.
"Easy lass, you're hurt bad," he said softly. "We came back for yah, just like I promised."
Mariskka said nothing, could say nothing as a small group of dwarven raiders lifted her from the ground where she'd been laying for hours, bearing her towards the safety of the nearby ravine and later towards one of the remaining Wildhammer strongholds in the hills so her wounds could be tended. She was too weak to respond, too tired to answer them.
As she was carried away from the site of battle, she did manage to tilt her head to see the ruins of the camp where she had fought, and the unconscious and slain foes that had laid around her. She smiled slightly before she passed out again.
She had finally put to rest one last piece of an old life, had given peace to a few more spirits that now lived on happily in their new lives. She had done something good here, and it would comfort her in her current cycle of life.
No comments:
Post a Comment