Mordria
03-08-2009, 05:42 PM
For over a week she had simmered, practicing her speech, trying to decide how she would react to witch words. She wasn’t good on the fly, she couldn’t win an argument. She knew what she wanted, but how to get it done with the least amount of fuss. And the truth, what would the truth be? These new people, she barely knew them, her “mentors”, there for the sake of helping, but only on the condition of barely concealed distaste and mistrust. Guiding her along, but on what path, for what ends? Making her look and feel foolish seemed the only results thus far…
Mordria sat on the edge of her bed, thoughts racing. She drummed her fingers along her lip. Her pale re-grown fingertips. So thin was the skin she could hold it up to a candle and watch the light play through, but it was skin none the less. The potions had worked, which meant the her mentor spoke the truth. She had been more than a little hesitant to take any potion from them, she woke from their last experiment with her mouth sewn shut. But it had worked, the rot had receded and she did feel…better. Which begged the next question, regarding her sister. For how long had Mordria obediently followed her sisters every command when Sorchea knew all along that something was terribly wrong…how many things, horrible things, could have been prevented?
All she wanted was the recipe. That and any potions the paladin already had made. An explanation for years of deciet didn’t seem half as important as a secure supply of medication. She would just go to the lab and request them in a calm and rational tone of voice. She talked herself through the motions a few more times before getting up and making her way downstairs to her sisters main work area behind the kitchen.
She opened the door slowly without knocking. Her sister Sorchea sat hunched over a large wooden table against the far wall. She seemed to be cataloguing some vials that were layed out on wax paper next to her. The bubbling of several larger beakers was the only other noise in the room. Mordria walked forward into the room.
“I WANT ALL MY ZOMBIE MEDICATION!” She yelled. Then brought a hand up to cover her mouth. That wasn’t how that was supposed to go…
Sorchea sat up quickly, startled. The vial that was in her hand fell and rolled off the table onto the floor where it shattered. The sound of the glass breaking was very loud in the small room. She braced both hands on the table and turned her stool around slowly.
“That elixer took almost a week to make.” She growled. Narrowing her eyes as she looked at the Priestess. “I can only assume that Blonde friend of yours told you that you were a zombie?”
Mordria cocked her head to one side. “Um…yeah. I mean no! Just give me the potions! And the recipe.”
Sorchea laughed. “The recipe! You cant even make a sandwich for yourself! I’m going to give you a valuable alchemal formula…” She chuckled and started to turn her stool back around.
Mordria stomped her foot. She could feel a vein start to bulge in side of her neck. All of a sudden she felt very hot.
“So you admit it! There is a formula, some medication I’m supposed to be taking!?”
Sorchea stopped in mid stool rotation, she turned her head to look at the younger elf, she looked her up and down, seeming to size up the smaller Priestess. “Of course there is a medication, have you no memory in that skull of yours at all? But it will be administered as it always has been. By me. And that’s all you need to know. Now if you will excuse me, I have wor-”
“I can make you give them to me…” Its was a whisper, deeper and more resonant. It seemed to come from all directions at once.
Sorchea’s body went stiff, too late had she realized the depth of anger in Mordria’s face. Her body turned unwillingly on its stool, joints popping as her mind fought the muscles in her torso. Her sister was gone. A pillar of darkness stood there instead. Green dots for eyes flaring, looking directly at her, into her.
“what…are…you…doing?!” Sorchea hissed through gritted teeth.
The darkness on the other side of the room pulsed. It still spoke in the tone of a angry child, but the menace in its form spoke of darker things.
“To long have you treated me like a child, like your experiment! I’m sick, I could have died. And you dose my food like you would an infant with a cold.” The shadow pulsed. The paladin came up off the chair like a puppet at a marionette show. It made its jerky way across the room, and bent down to pick up a large wooden box, it danced its jig back towards the table and began to sweep the contents into the box. Vials spilled, papers flew and glass shattered as the items fell into the container.
How could you!? I’m dying inside, what if Nymare hadn’t asked you, I could have died! ”
“Your dead inside already.” Sorchea mumbled.
“What, what did you say?”
“Ha! You think you were alive when I found you, you were all dead, all of you.! I tried my best to awaken them, but they were to far gone, to far…eaten, but not you. You were practically untouched. I called the light and willed your soul home, to its body. But it didn’t come. But yet here you are!” She let out a bitter laugh.
“Well then what am I? What’s wrong with me!?”
“How the hell should I know, you eat people, you rot, your evil! I should have turned you over to the guards and let them burn you.”
Mordria slid a few paces back in shock, she released her hold on her sister. “You don’t mean that…you cant.”
“What I mean is I don’t know you, you aren’t my sister, you are nothing like her.”
“But..but…”
She floated there, unsure, confused and lost, her mind wandered. She didn’t notice the cloud of light, the consecration of the ground beneath her feet until it was to late. Her sister had risen, calling the blessing of the ancient kings of Azeroth. Already Sorchea had crouched, grabbing the largest of the beakers from the table, and launched herself towards the towering shadow.
Something flew past Mordria’s face, she didn’t have any time to react. Her sister was thrown away from her, blood flying in a large arc to splatter the table and floor. The paladin flew backwards, her feet lifted from the floor. She cried out in pain, reaching for the wound. A thick wooden arrow protruded from the hollow of her shoulder, pinning her to the wall. The priestess turned, looking towards the door. Another bolt flew past, spearing through the flesh of the opposite shoulder, pinning the elf like a bug.
In the doorway stood the Trolless. Gone were the dark robes she had worn around the house for months, instead she wore shiny chain mail, polished enough to glow in the meager candlelight, and she was carrying the biggest crossbow Mordria had ever seen in her life. The Trolls eyes still seemed to glow with the unnatural touch of death as they had before, but the intensity and awareness in them now as she surveyed the room were something entirely new.
Mordria released the breath she had been holding and let the veil of shadows fall from her body. Karnya had never tried to harm her before aside from her general mocking and impatience, but today seemed a new day for all sorts of unpleasant things. But the Troll wasn’t even looking at her, its eyes were focused instead on the bleeding elf suspended on the other side of the room. The Trolless strode right towards her, paying no mind to the splinters of wood and glass, her thick feet stomping the fragments. She crossed the room, crossbow raised in one hand, with the other she reached out and grabbed the suspended paladins face. She leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. The Trollesses face almost 3 times the size of the elf, her fangs extended upwards from her mouth to tap against the elf’s forehead. Her dead eyes bored into the paladin.
“And whats bin in da potions ya been given to me den? Hmmmm? Doctor?” The scorn dripped from her words heavier than the breath witch flowed from her mouth, stinking of blood and rot, to wash over the paladins face. Sorchea fought her gag reflex and said nothing. The question proved itself rhetorical though as Karnya straightened up, she spoke without looking around.
“Git dem crates…we leavin dis place.”
Mordria raised an eyebrow and looked around the room, she was the only other one there. “Who…me?”
The Trolless snickered. “Unless ya be wantin at continue yer fight when she peels herself down from ‘dere. Plus I be needin ya now.” She bared her teeth in a snarl. “We gots medicines ta make.”
Mordria picked the crate up from the floor, she looked up at her sister, who was staring away from them, beaten. “Sorchea…I, um…” she began quietly. The paladin turned her head slowly, wincing, blood still flowed freely from the two wounds, it dripped down her body and was forming a small puddle on the carpet. “Just…get out of my house.” The priestess wanted to say something more, this was not how anything was supposed to go. There were small tears flowing down her sisters face. Mordria had never made anyone cry before.
“Take it, take it all. Go crawl off somewhere and try to fix what you think is wrong. I wash my hands of it.” The paladin said, before turning her head once more to the side, dismissing them.
The troll, who had been paying no attention to these events, had left the room several minutes ago. With nothing left to be said or done Mordria picked the crate up off the floor and hurried after her.
Mordria sat on the edge of her bed, thoughts racing. She drummed her fingers along her lip. Her pale re-grown fingertips. So thin was the skin she could hold it up to a candle and watch the light play through, but it was skin none the less. The potions had worked, which meant the her mentor spoke the truth. She had been more than a little hesitant to take any potion from them, she woke from their last experiment with her mouth sewn shut. But it had worked, the rot had receded and she did feel…better. Which begged the next question, regarding her sister. For how long had Mordria obediently followed her sisters every command when Sorchea knew all along that something was terribly wrong…how many things, horrible things, could have been prevented?
All she wanted was the recipe. That and any potions the paladin already had made. An explanation for years of deciet didn’t seem half as important as a secure supply of medication. She would just go to the lab and request them in a calm and rational tone of voice. She talked herself through the motions a few more times before getting up and making her way downstairs to her sisters main work area behind the kitchen.
She opened the door slowly without knocking. Her sister Sorchea sat hunched over a large wooden table against the far wall. She seemed to be cataloguing some vials that were layed out on wax paper next to her. The bubbling of several larger beakers was the only other noise in the room. Mordria walked forward into the room.
“I WANT ALL MY ZOMBIE MEDICATION!” She yelled. Then brought a hand up to cover her mouth. That wasn’t how that was supposed to go…
Sorchea sat up quickly, startled. The vial that was in her hand fell and rolled off the table onto the floor where it shattered. The sound of the glass breaking was very loud in the small room. She braced both hands on the table and turned her stool around slowly.
“That elixer took almost a week to make.” She growled. Narrowing her eyes as she looked at the Priestess. “I can only assume that Blonde friend of yours told you that you were a zombie?”
Mordria cocked her head to one side. “Um…yeah. I mean no! Just give me the potions! And the recipe.”
Sorchea laughed. “The recipe! You cant even make a sandwich for yourself! I’m going to give you a valuable alchemal formula…” She chuckled and started to turn her stool back around.
Mordria stomped her foot. She could feel a vein start to bulge in side of her neck. All of a sudden she felt very hot.
“So you admit it! There is a formula, some medication I’m supposed to be taking!?”
Sorchea stopped in mid stool rotation, she turned her head to look at the younger elf, she looked her up and down, seeming to size up the smaller Priestess. “Of course there is a medication, have you no memory in that skull of yours at all? But it will be administered as it always has been. By me. And that’s all you need to know. Now if you will excuse me, I have wor-”
“I can make you give them to me…” Its was a whisper, deeper and more resonant. It seemed to come from all directions at once.
Sorchea’s body went stiff, too late had she realized the depth of anger in Mordria’s face. Her body turned unwillingly on its stool, joints popping as her mind fought the muscles in her torso. Her sister was gone. A pillar of darkness stood there instead. Green dots for eyes flaring, looking directly at her, into her.
“what…are…you…doing?!” Sorchea hissed through gritted teeth.
The darkness on the other side of the room pulsed. It still spoke in the tone of a angry child, but the menace in its form spoke of darker things.
“To long have you treated me like a child, like your experiment! I’m sick, I could have died. And you dose my food like you would an infant with a cold.” The shadow pulsed. The paladin came up off the chair like a puppet at a marionette show. It made its jerky way across the room, and bent down to pick up a large wooden box, it danced its jig back towards the table and began to sweep the contents into the box. Vials spilled, papers flew and glass shattered as the items fell into the container.
How could you!? I’m dying inside, what if Nymare hadn’t asked you, I could have died! ”
“Your dead inside already.” Sorchea mumbled.
“What, what did you say?”
“Ha! You think you were alive when I found you, you were all dead, all of you.! I tried my best to awaken them, but they were to far gone, to far…eaten, but not you. You were practically untouched. I called the light and willed your soul home, to its body. But it didn’t come. But yet here you are!” She let out a bitter laugh.
“Well then what am I? What’s wrong with me!?”
“How the hell should I know, you eat people, you rot, your evil! I should have turned you over to the guards and let them burn you.”
Mordria slid a few paces back in shock, she released her hold on her sister. “You don’t mean that…you cant.”
“What I mean is I don’t know you, you aren’t my sister, you are nothing like her.”
“But..but…”
She floated there, unsure, confused and lost, her mind wandered. She didn’t notice the cloud of light, the consecration of the ground beneath her feet until it was to late. Her sister had risen, calling the blessing of the ancient kings of Azeroth. Already Sorchea had crouched, grabbing the largest of the beakers from the table, and launched herself towards the towering shadow.
Something flew past Mordria’s face, she didn’t have any time to react. Her sister was thrown away from her, blood flying in a large arc to splatter the table and floor. The paladin flew backwards, her feet lifted from the floor. She cried out in pain, reaching for the wound. A thick wooden arrow protruded from the hollow of her shoulder, pinning her to the wall. The priestess turned, looking towards the door. Another bolt flew past, spearing through the flesh of the opposite shoulder, pinning the elf like a bug.
In the doorway stood the Trolless. Gone were the dark robes she had worn around the house for months, instead she wore shiny chain mail, polished enough to glow in the meager candlelight, and she was carrying the biggest crossbow Mordria had ever seen in her life. The Trolls eyes still seemed to glow with the unnatural touch of death as they had before, but the intensity and awareness in them now as she surveyed the room were something entirely new.
Mordria released the breath she had been holding and let the veil of shadows fall from her body. Karnya had never tried to harm her before aside from her general mocking and impatience, but today seemed a new day for all sorts of unpleasant things. But the Troll wasn’t even looking at her, its eyes were focused instead on the bleeding elf suspended on the other side of the room. The Trolless strode right towards her, paying no mind to the splinters of wood and glass, her thick feet stomping the fragments. She crossed the room, crossbow raised in one hand, with the other she reached out and grabbed the suspended paladins face. She leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. The Trollesses face almost 3 times the size of the elf, her fangs extended upwards from her mouth to tap against the elf’s forehead. Her dead eyes bored into the paladin.
“And whats bin in da potions ya been given to me den? Hmmmm? Doctor?” The scorn dripped from her words heavier than the breath witch flowed from her mouth, stinking of blood and rot, to wash over the paladins face. Sorchea fought her gag reflex and said nothing. The question proved itself rhetorical though as Karnya straightened up, she spoke without looking around.
“Git dem crates…we leavin dis place.”
Mordria raised an eyebrow and looked around the room, she was the only other one there. “Who…me?”
The Trolless snickered. “Unless ya be wantin at continue yer fight when she peels herself down from ‘dere. Plus I be needin ya now.” She bared her teeth in a snarl. “We gots medicines ta make.”
Mordria picked the crate up from the floor, she looked up at her sister, who was staring away from them, beaten. “Sorchea…I, um…” she began quietly. The paladin turned her head slowly, wincing, blood still flowed freely from the two wounds, it dripped down her body and was forming a small puddle on the carpet. “Just…get out of my house.” The priestess wanted to say something more, this was not how anything was supposed to go. There were small tears flowing down her sisters face. Mordria had never made anyone cry before.
“Take it, take it all. Go crawl off somewhere and try to fix what you think is wrong. I wash my hands of it.” The paladin said, before turning her head once more to the side, dismissing them.
The troll, who had been paying no attention to these events, had left the room several minutes ago. With nothing left to be said or done Mordria picked the crate up off the floor and hurried after her.