Caged

[Fhenrir]

(( Story continuation from Gnomerir (http://tn.yzeens.com/modules.php?name=Forums&file=viewtopic&t=1398). More to come soon, hope ya dig it! ))

“Kill her Fhenrir, KILL HER!”

The voice had been pounding in his head consistently since he’d last spoken to his wife. For weeks it had been trying to talk him into slaying friends and allies, but recently it had been targeting his bride Kaliera specifically.

Fhenrir clutched his head tightly as he walked through the gates of Orgrimmar, delivering a quick nod to the nearby guards that saluted him as he passed. The noise of the city’s bustling traders and adventurers did nothing to drive away the booming voice in his mind.

As he made his way to The Drag, the voice began speaking in longer sentences. Every word bashed against Fhenrir’s skull like an angry kodo herd.

“Fhenrir, you know I’m not going to go away… I’m going to stay right here, and remind you every waking moment of every day what you must do. Fhenrir, your wife is all that stands in the way of our freedom. Of YOUR freedom! END HER!”

A loud shout echoed through the streets as Fhenrir roared a loud denial and shook his head vigorously, sending his champion’s helm flying from his head and crashing into the dirt. He fell to his knees and grabbed ahold of his horns, squeezing his rage into a tremendously tight grip and began pulling as hard as he could.

“Until you allow my thoughts a moment of peace I’m going to keep TUGGING!” Fhenrir shouted again, pulling wildly as the voice in his head began to laugh aloud.

Fhenrir fell to his hands and knees after several moment of pulling his own horns, completely ignoring a few nearby citizens that were staring in awe and whispering of lunatics.

“Fhenrir, there’s nothing you can do to stop me… except end your “love”, Kaliera. Do it. NOW.”

Fhenrir blinked suddenly as he had a memory of an old friend, and a wry grin spread across his face.

“I may not be able to stop you… but I know someone who can…”

[AkuTazee]

“Let it commence,” Akutazee hissed in Trollish. He peered sightlessly down towards the engraved saucer below him, the runes sketched hastily in a circle around it glowing blue, tiny strands of smoke snaking restlessly towards the sky.

“God of blood, as cursed as your name is, as wretched as you are, as much as you have wronged me and mine, and as much as I desire vengeance against you... today I call upon your power. Let the essences of the two persons contained in this bowl... let their blood congeal in your name. Allow the hollow barrier of reality to be shattered, so that the malicious spirit that plagues this heathen cowhide, this nonbeliever, may be channeled unto me. I beseech you, O’ foolish Hakkar, O’ cunning Soulflayer!”

Fhenrir, the proud Tauren warrior who stood opposite the Troll deep in spell-weaving, clutched gingerly at his chest, afraid that his knotted stomach would loose another volley of digestive bile in response to his unsettling loss of blood. So courageous was he; a hero of Orgrimmar, a longtime veteran of Alterac Valley, both feared and respected among the Alliance, renowned for his remarkable ability to inhale copious amounts of alcohol. Here, he stood cowering, groping blindly at his plate armor in a feeble attempt to keep himself upright. To understand his plight, one would have had to see the daunting amount of bodily fluids the wily Witch Doctor required spilt for the ritual (his subtitle, Bloodletter, was not ironic in the slightest way), the likes of which Fhenrir still regarded with a grain of salt.

“Ugh... how long is this damn ritual going to take?” The hulking Tauren choked out. The Troll looked at him as though he had just committed a homicide, and then resumed his wild chanting.

The bowl itself, with the blood that churned within it, let escape a small hissing noise, and the scarlet liquid began to disappear into the wind, transforming into an eerie red steam. Fhenrir was aware of an incredible pressure; it was as if he had been hit by the full force of a Dwarvish steam tank. He fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him momentarily. He then opened his eyes, attempting to discern which direction was up. The Tauren, half up and half down, froze instantaneously. All was silent, except for the ragged gasps of the two beings opposite one another... and then, a third joined them.

[AkuTazee]

Akutazee turned his blind eyesockets to the formless creature that he could not see, but rather, hear. Both sentients in it's presence were aware of a thousand quietly spoken words, fleeting whispers cascading off into the distance, unintelligible phrases and unhearable sentences. He extended his hand, curving his three fingers into a claw, and continued speaking, finishing the ritual, slowly but surely, carefully and steadily reaching his goal. His heart thudded heavy and fast in his chest, and his stomach rolled over itself in a knot.

The first thing Fhenrir noticed upon opening his eyes was that the air around him was so cold that he could see his own quick bursts of breathing. He glanced up at the Troll in front of him and saw his quiet resolve, but also noticed the tiny bead of sweat that rolled unwillingly down his forehead, saw it changing rapidly into a diminuitive chunk of ice. The Tauren gasped, his eyes widened, as something, a seamless, formless incarnation, transparent but glowing ominously white, appeared between the two.

As the never-ending incantation drew to a close, the spirit drew closer to Akutazee, it's proximity frighteningly close... and then, in a rush of sound, disappeared altogether.

One second passed... two... three...

The Witch Doctor flew backwards, his body defying gravity for but a single long moment before the ground came rushing to meet him. He lay still, and then his entire body twitched. He convulsed, rolling in agony on the ground, locked in a battle for control of his own body. And then... something clicked.

The Troll stood up, and, emboldened by the sudden gain of confidence, so did Fhenrir.

"What... did you do to it?" The midnight black Tauren huffed out. In response, there sounded a voice like the grating of metal on metal, a shrill, harsh, shrieking sound, which still carried a Trollish accent, but was very, very wrong, somehow, whether it was in pitch or the foreignness of the voice which Fhenrir knew so well.

"He is mine." The two orange gemstones ingrained in the black earthen-wrought mask which the Troll had worn for some time flared dangerously near to an uncontrollable blaze.

When the spirit attempted to speak again, and it did, the beginnings of it's vocalization that Fhenrir should not fall back onto his haunches and crawl away in horror, it met with a watery gurgle, and then from the Troll's lips came such a scream that it would have drawn many eyes were they not so far from the gates of Orgrimmar.

"Conclave of Binding? Circulum of Supression? What is this? Are you some kind of warlo- GAAH."

"Ah be one who be trained in da nessecary arts," came the self-assured voice which the Tauren, who was once again on the ground, thought he would never be glad to hear.

Suddenly, with newfound energy, the Troll slinked away into the distance, towards the Gates, towards Rocktusk Farm, and towards the zepplin tower. A sandstorm was brewing over the red wastes. Fhenrir called out from his luxurious postion in the dirt.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?"

"AH BE GOIN' TO A PLACE O' HEALIN', WHERE AH KIN SETTLE DIS ONCE AN' FO' ALL!" came the reply, blurred slightly by the harsh desert winds.

"Crazy Trolls," Fhenrir murmured under his breath.

[Fhenrir]

Fhenrir slowly rose to his hooves and brushed the dirt from his equipment, grumbling to himself about his trollish comrade. Only shortly after doing so he realized something was different. He gazed around the area for a moment and scratched at his mane before he suddenly realized what had happened.

His mind was clear again. His thoughts were his own. The desires that begged and barked at him to do things he'd never dream of were no more.

Quickly he called for his wolf and set off riding for Orgrimmar. He delivered a slight nod to the people outside the gates dueling one another, and a quick salute to the guards that greeted him with the same.

He hopped off his wolf and slowly trotted into the marvelous city he’d grown so accustom to. The stars that hung brightly from the night sky shined down on the city as he walked into the Valley of Honor, and a feeling of relief fell over him as he gazed upon the busy traders.

Not a single demanding command came at him, not a single threat. He had no urge to bring his hammer down upon his brethren. As a bright toothy smile crossed his face, an overwhelming sense of joy came over him as he realized his heart was no longer aching for him to attack his own lover.

He spoke to a few auctioneers briefly, wrote a quick letter to his love, and went in search of a bed. He needed a good night’s sleep.

And he would get one, for the first time in almost a month.

[AkuTazee]

The first thing Kar noticed about the newcomer, the Troll which strode quietly towards the zepplin tower, was that he was very shady. His head was covered by a helmet, his eyes were unnatural in that they glowed. He was accustomed to this; adventurers often passed by with all manner of equipment obtained from foreign monsters and treasure looted from far-away places. Yet, something in his mind begged that this one be recognized, and, to an orc guardsmen, being recognized is not an entirely good thing. Perhaps it was the way he slinked from shadow to shadow; perhaps the casual way he carried his heavy-handed axe, with frightening familiarity; perhaps it was the way his gaze tunnelled deep into the orc's skull; most likely, it was all three.

Kar raised his weapon, and his partner, Galthra, did the same. She stepped forward, standing in front of the Troll, and she spoke to him. Kar was unnerved in the way the Troll's eyes suddenly darted to her. It was quite menacing, and, for a surprising moment, Kar knew fear.

"Yoo a strange one, and you be checked 'fore yoo get on zep," came the voice of his brutish comrade. "Yoo follow Galthra." She turned. The Troll raised his shoulders in a shrug.

A shrug which raised his weapon into both hands.

Moving blindingly fast, with incredible agility even for a Troll, the axe cut through the air with a whirring sound, just above Galthra's shoulders. Kar flinched, falling backwards, dropping his axe. When he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn't.

Galthra's body was seemingly frozen in time, the axeblade lodged deep into her neck, shearing bone. But it did not cut all the way through. It was too blunt. The Troll twisted, and Kar winced at this, as a cracking sound became fully audible. The remaining Orc had not the reflexes left in him to shut his eyes before the Troll bent and licked up the growing pool of blood.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn and run. All the impulses in his body shrieked for him to flee. And yet, as the eyes were afixed upon him, he found that he could not move a muscle. The Troll, however, would be far more generous. He would move muscles for him.

Forcing Kar on his knees, grabbing him by the tuft of hair that sprouted from his mottled green head, the Troll raised his axe, and with a satisfied grin, lowered his mouth until it was parellel with the Orc's ear. In the last few moments of his life, Kar was able to recount the next thing that he heard many times over. So scared was he, that, had he survived, one such as him would have never been coherent again.

"Say goo'nigh'."

[AkuTazee]

(( Firstly, I've got some 'splainin' to do. To all those who were eager to see the continuation of this story, I'm sorry. I was lured off of my Troll Shaman to Maelstrom with the prospect of an awesome roleplay plot which I participate in to this day. However, in my rush, I left a lot of threads to unravel, including that one called "coming up with an in character reason for Aku's sudden absence", a question which I have only recently come to answer. Like several of my other stories which could have been particularly good, this one was left to rot because I didn't have the conviction to finish it.

This is Fhen's story. He has recently reminded me of that fact. So it happens that I'm going to finish this up, once and for all, for my own peace of mind if nothing else. In the next few days I'll be doing what I should've done a long time ago.

If you've a mind, enjoy. ))