Niethan
08-06-2006, 09:26 PM
Niethan was a long time in waking.
Days drifted by in a haze, a soft-edged blur of meaningless words and the hard, sharp stab of lucidity. Witness was working and had no time for dreams, so when the pain of thinking was too great Niethan let himself sink into Moment; he spent much time skulking in the jungle with Sigrun, satiating hunger for movement with hunting, and hunger for eating with the flesh of bloody squealing things- birds, beasts, and the two-legged things that hunted them.
Stranglethorn Vale was already a dangerous place by night. To say it was made more dangerous by the addition of two more beasts would be meaningless.
Other times Niethan braved the hard edges of perception, and took his time in the company of others. It was not always unpleasant, but the Rest Inn Peace tavern had to grow used to the shifting moods that strung out his thoughts. Usually careful words could calm him. Once he started laughing at nothing, and could not stop until blood was pouring out his nose and ears, trying to escape his bleeding brain.
There were days he could not bear to think, but could not sink into his hungry escape. Those days he spent delirious, pacing open roads under the sun and trying to escape the taste of gravemoss, or worse, the aching void that craved fresh-turned earth and cool darkness. Those days passed slowly, scraping down his spine in an ozone tang whenever he lay himself down, flesh screaming for rest until the lightning in his viens shuddered past his heart and drowned out the noise.
Some days he would cry for hours, shaking and sobbing at a pain he couldn't understand. Sigrun always stayed with him then, licking the salt off his face and whispering hush, dearheart, please until he calmed.
But, nothing lasts forever except change. Change came slowly, but it did come, and eventually there came a day that Witness stood back and admired his work, the marble city neat and whole. Moment bowed his head and retreated back into his night. And Niethan felt a little more awake.
Things were different, of course. Death Before Dishonor was gone, and Niethan's wasn't the only tabard that burned, nor the first. He avoided Gorthok, shrinking away on the rare times they happened into the same room. Sulajin was gone, vanished without a trace or goodbye. New faces had come and went into the Rest Inn Peace tavern.
Vitu was still there, one of the few people who seemed to resist change. Not through undeath or magic, but by sheer stubborn will. She was none too pleased when he finally did come home; the first thing she did was slap him upside the head and lecture him on leaving a note if he was going to dissappear. Then she huffed in irritation, smiled, and asked him what he would like for dinner. And things were normal again.
Little else changed on the surface, save scenery, and one thing more- more a break in habit rather than shift. No new names or objects were added to the List of People to be Afraid Of. Two had been crossed off; Spiders and Those Statues in Stranglethorn. For the life of him, Niethan couldn't remember why they had been added in the first place.
Time continued to pass, as is its wont. For Niethan, it passed slowly. He spent his days in the mostly empty Tavern, sometimes reading and sometimes dreaming, but mostly waiting. At night, when the few people he spoke to slept, he burned the hours by training, hunting, and speaking to Witness. It did not bother him that he was speaking to himself, though sometimes he felt that it should.
Moment never spoke, so Niethan never knew his name. He still sometimes gave himself up to his hungry escape, and often surfaced from his dreams far away from where he'd started and thirsting for the hunt. This, too, did not bother him, though he knew it should.
Days became weeks then months, and Niethan learned that calm did not mean peace; his days were quiet and increasingly restless. He began to search for purpose, something to fill the waiting hours. And one day, by fate or chance he passed by a notice board in Orgrimmar, and a piece of paper half-buried caught his eye. It read:
Greetings Friend, Foe, or Kin.
The House of Kai seeks to end the Cycle of Hatred that plagues the Horde and Alliance through whatever means; we'll strike down the corruption that is intertwined within both the Horde and Alliance, and we'll banish the evil from Azeroth.
The House of Kai raises it's banner to all those seeking to end the conflict and the Cycle of Hatred that plagues the Horde and Alliance. We follow the near forgotton concepts of Strength, Honor, Justice, and Enlightenment. To all those who would bury their hatreds, their dishonor, their corruption, the House of Kai calls you... you need only seek us out...
-Zusteakai, Master of the House of Kai
He hesitated, then grabbed it, copying down the names and post instructions. A bare few days later found him on Spirit Rise in Thunder Bluff, nervous as hell not from being interviewed but from being what he considered deep into enemy territory. He kept one eye glancing over his shoulder as he listened to the much larger troll in front of him speak. He was talking about the House's goals, a few future plans and what to Niethan sounded like a combination history lesson and sermon.
Then Zusteakai mentioned a name, and the world screeched to a halt.
"Woah, hold on. Back dat up- wha' was dat last part?"
"Hrm? I said that the Emerald Dream~"
Zustekai continued to speak, but he had lost his audience. A sound of something clicking, something breaking. Green came crashing in.
Niethan woke up.
Days drifted by in a haze, a soft-edged blur of meaningless words and the hard, sharp stab of lucidity. Witness was working and had no time for dreams, so when the pain of thinking was too great Niethan let himself sink into Moment; he spent much time skulking in the jungle with Sigrun, satiating hunger for movement with hunting, and hunger for eating with the flesh of bloody squealing things- birds, beasts, and the two-legged things that hunted them.
Stranglethorn Vale was already a dangerous place by night. To say it was made more dangerous by the addition of two more beasts would be meaningless.
Other times Niethan braved the hard edges of perception, and took his time in the company of others. It was not always unpleasant, but the Rest Inn Peace tavern had to grow used to the shifting moods that strung out his thoughts. Usually careful words could calm him. Once he started laughing at nothing, and could not stop until blood was pouring out his nose and ears, trying to escape his bleeding brain.
There were days he could not bear to think, but could not sink into his hungry escape. Those days he spent delirious, pacing open roads under the sun and trying to escape the taste of gravemoss, or worse, the aching void that craved fresh-turned earth and cool darkness. Those days passed slowly, scraping down his spine in an ozone tang whenever he lay himself down, flesh screaming for rest until the lightning in his viens shuddered past his heart and drowned out the noise.
Some days he would cry for hours, shaking and sobbing at a pain he couldn't understand. Sigrun always stayed with him then, licking the salt off his face and whispering hush, dearheart, please until he calmed.
But, nothing lasts forever except change. Change came slowly, but it did come, and eventually there came a day that Witness stood back and admired his work, the marble city neat and whole. Moment bowed his head and retreated back into his night. And Niethan felt a little more awake.
Things were different, of course. Death Before Dishonor was gone, and Niethan's wasn't the only tabard that burned, nor the first. He avoided Gorthok, shrinking away on the rare times they happened into the same room. Sulajin was gone, vanished without a trace or goodbye. New faces had come and went into the Rest Inn Peace tavern.
Vitu was still there, one of the few people who seemed to resist change. Not through undeath or magic, but by sheer stubborn will. She was none too pleased when he finally did come home; the first thing she did was slap him upside the head and lecture him on leaving a note if he was going to dissappear. Then she huffed in irritation, smiled, and asked him what he would like for dinner. And things were normal again.
Little else changed on the surface, save scenery, and one thing more- more a break in habit rather than shift. No new names or objects were added to the List of People to be Afraid Of. Two had been crossed off; Spiders and Those Statues in Stranglethorn. For the life of him, Niethan couldn't remember why they had been added in the first place.
Time continued to pass, as is its wont. For Niethan, it passed slowly. He spent his days in the mostly empty Tavern, sometimes reading and sometimes dreaming, but mostly waiting. At night, when the few people he spoke to slept, he burned the hours by training, hunting, and speaking to Witness. It did not bother him that he was speaking to himself, though sometimes he felt that it should.
Moment never spoke, so Niethan never knew his name. He still sometimes gave himself up to his hungry escape, and often surfaced from his dreams far away from where he'd started and thirsting for the hunt. This, too, did not bother him, though he knew it should.
Days became weeks then months, and Niethan learned that calm did not mean peace; his days were quiet and increasingly restless. He began to search for purpose, something to fill the waiting hours. And one day, by fate or chance he passed by a notice board in Orgrimmar, and a piece of paper half-buried caught his eye. It read:
Greetings Friend, Foe, or Kin.
The House of Kai seeks to end the Cycle of Hatred that plagues the Horde and Alliance through whatever means; we'll strike down the corruption that is intertwined within both the Horde and Alliance, and we'll banish the evil from Azeroth.
The House of Kai raises it's banner to all those seeking to end the conflict and the Cycle of Hatred that plagues the Horde and Alliance. We follow the near forgotton concepts of Strength, Honor, Justice, and Enlightenment. To all those who would bury their hatreds, their dishonor, their corruption, the House of Kai calls you... you need only seek us out...
-Zusteakai, Master of the House of Kai
He hesitated, then grabbed it, copying down the names and post instructions. A bare few days later found him on Spirit Rise in Thunder Bluff, nervous as hell not from being interviewed but from being what he considered deep into enemy territory. He kept one eye glancing over his shoulder as he listened to the much larger troll in front of him speak. He was talking about the House's goals, a few future plans and what to Niethan sounded like a combination history lesson and sermon.
Then Zusteakai mentioned a name, and the world screeched to a halt.
"Woah, hold on. Back dat up- wha' was dat last part?"
"Hrm? I said that the Emerald Dream~"
Zustekai continued to speak, but he had lost his audience. A sound of something clicking, something breaking. Green came crashing in.
Niethan woke up.