Voljaan
08-31-2006, 09:08 AM
The Human was pretty strong, for a Human. Every attack Voljaan made seemed to get parried, every time the Human swung, blood would flow. It seemed almost impossible to win, and Voljaan knew that he would die here in Hillsbrad, at the hands of this crazed Human.
What should have been the final blow merely stunned him. By the time he was able to move, he was overtaken by three burly humans. To weak to fight back, Voljaan simply let himself be dragged.
When Voljaan awoke, he found himself on some sort of operating table. Metal instruments lined the sides, none of them looking very pleasant. There was a large hook with a barbed tip, several small knives, a small clamp, and several other objects that could only be described using the words ‘sharp’ and ‘pointy’. As Voljaan was pondering what these were there for, the door opened, and a very tall Night Elf walked in, flanked by two of the Humans who dragged Voljaan away in Hillsbrad.
“Greetings, Troll.” said the Elf, who was walking closer. “Surprised to hear a Night Elf speaking your native tongue, are you? Well don’t be, you’d be surprised how many are forced to learn it.” Voljaan could care less about the Elves, although he wasn’t going to let this dog know that. Why was he toying with him?
“Do you know why you’re here, Troll?” asked the Elf, now only a few feet away. Voljaan’s reply was a large amount of spit sent flying across the room, hitting the Elf right below his left eye. Unaffected, the Elf continued. “You are here because you are supposed to be dead.”
“Well that ain’t very nice now. Ah know ye Elves hate us Trolls, but isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“No, you get the wrong idea here. You are literally supposed to be dead.” Voljaan gave him a look that clearly signified that he could not possibly be any more confused. “Let me make it clearer for you. It is our organization’s job to make sure things that are dead… stay dead. Do you understand now?”
“Ya aren’t part o’ that freak show, that ‘Cult of the Anti-Damned’, are ye?”
“Goodness, no. That flea circus? They made themselves in our image, you know, trying to get famous. I believe we both know how that worked out.”
“So why haven’t ya killed me yet, eh?”
“So eager to die! I love getting people like you! It makes it so much easier, you know. To answer your question, you haven’t died because we don’t know how you died. We have refined our technique over the years, you see, and found it much more humane to kill someone however they were first killed.”
“Ye make it sound like ye do this all the time.”
“Well, we mostly get captured Forsaken. Very rarely do we get someone like you.”
“And ye expect me to jus’ tell ye how Ah died? Are ye really that stupid?”
“Oh, we have our ways.” The Elf waved off one of the Humans and he left. A few minutes later he returned, this time with a Human donning the robes of a priest. “Nice to see you again, Mymph. We require your memory searching abilities yet again.”
“As you wish, master.” The Human known as Mymph bowed before the Elf, bowed before Voljaan, then put his hands on Voljaans head and closed his eyes. Immediately Voljaan felt himself remembering things, seeing images of these events pass through his head. His father dying. Joining Confusion. Journeying to Tarren Mill to cure a poison. Killing Humans in Hillsbrad. Fhenrir’s wedding. Killing the accursed Gryan Stoutmantle. Then…
“I believe I have found something master. After this Troll died, he had a conversation with his father’s spirit. In this conversation, the spirit mentions the Troll dying of poison from an arrow wound in the back of his leg.”
The Elf rolled Voljaan over on the table and pulled up the right leg of the tattered pants they had given him to wear.
“Yes, I see the scar. Interesting. Golgah,” he pointed at the Human who had been sent to fetch the priest. “Take this Troll out to the archery range, and prepare a poison tipped arrow. It’s time to send this Troll back where he belongs.”
The Human nodded, and picked up the beaten Troll. Voljaan was helpless to resist, as he was still greatly weakened from the fight earlier.
As Voljaan was being dragged, he couldn’t help but cry a bit as he though about the few friends he had that he was leaving behind. He quickly stopped, though, thinking also about what they would say if they could see him now, crying, being dragged like a rag doll.
He was placed in a standing position, shackled at the wrists to hold him up, as the Human dipped an arrow into a vial of poison he had collected on the way. Taking careful aim, he shot, hitting Voljaan right in his scar.
Voljaan didn’t scream. He didn’t feel anything, actually. But as the world was growing dark, as it always did for someone who was dying, he could have sworn he saw his fathers face in the clouds smiling down at him.
((I had a lot of fun playing with you all on the Horde side, but it's time for a change. Special thanks to those who were in Confusion, and those in Voodoo Hooligans. You guys were great!))
What should have been the final blow merely stunned him. By the time he was able to move, he was overtaken by three burly humans. To weak to fight back, Voljaan simply let himself be dragged.
When Voljaan awoke, he found himself on some sort of operating table. Metal instruments lined the sides, none of them looking very pleasant. There was a large hook with a barbed tip, several small knives, a small clamp, and several other objects that could only be described using the words ‘sharp’ and ‘pointy’. As Voljaan was pondering what these were there for, the door opened, and a very tall Night Elf walked in, flanked by two of the Humans who dragged Voljaan away in Hillsbrad.
“Greetings, Troll.” said the Elf, who was walking closer. “Surprised to hear a Night Elf speaking your native tongue, are you? Well don’t be, you’d be surprised how many are forced to learn it.” Voljaan could care less about the Elves, although he wasn’t going to let this dog know that. Why was he toying with him?
“Do you know why you’re here, Troll?” asked the Elf, now only a few feet away. Voljaan’s reply was a large amount of spit sent flying across the room, hitting the Elf right below his left eye. Unaffected, the Elf continued. “You are here because you are supposed to be dead.”
“Well that ain’t very nice now. Ah know ye Elves hate us Trolls, but isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“No, you get the wrong idea here. You are literally supposed to be dead.” Voljaan gave him a look that clearly signified that he could not possibly be any more confused. “Let me make it clearer for you. It is our organization’s job to make sure things that are dead… stay dead. Do you understand now?”
“Ya aren’t part o’ that freak show, that ‘Cult of the Anti-Damned’, are ye?”
“Goodness, no. That flea circus? They made themselves in our image, you know, trying to get famous. I believe we both know how that worked out.”
“So why haven’t ya killed me yet, eh?”
“So eager to die! I love getting people like you! It makes it so much easier, you know. To answer your question, you haven’t died because we don’t know how you died. We have refined our technique over the years, you see, and found it much more humane to kill someone however they were first killed.”
“Ye make it sound like ye do this all the time.”
“Well, we mostly get captured Forsaken. Very rarely do we get someone like you.”
“And ye expect me to jus’ tell ye how Ah died? Are ye really that stupid?”
“Oh, we have our ways.” The Elf waved off one of the Humans and he left. A few minutes later he returned, this time with a Human donning the robes of a priest. “Nice to see you again, Mymph. We require your memory searching abilities yet again.”
“As you wish, master.” The Human known as Mymph bowed before the Elf, bowed before Voljaan, then put his hands on Voljaans head and closed his eyes. Immediately Voljaan felt himself remembering things, seeing images of these events pass through his head. His father dying. Joining Confusion. Journeying to Tarren Mill to cure a poison. Killing Humans in Hillsbrad. Fhenrir’s wedding. Killing the accursed Gryan Stoutmantle. Then…
“I believe I have found something master. After this Troll died, he had a conversation with his father’s spirit. In this conversation, the spirit mentions the Troll dying of poison from an arrow wound in the back of his leg.”
The Elf rolled Voljaan over on the table and pulled up the right leg of the tattered pants they had given him to wear.
“Yes, I see the scar. Interesting. Golgah,” he pointed at the Human who had been sent to fetch the priest. “Take this Troll out to the archery range, and prepare a poison tipped arrow. It’s time to send this Troll back where he belongs.”
The Human nodded, and picked up the beaten Troll. Voljaan was helpless to resist, as he was still greatly weakened from the fight earlier.
As Voljaan was being dragged, he couldn’t help but cry a bit as he though about the few friends he had that he was leaving behind. He quickly stopped, though, thinking also about what they would say if they could see him now, crying, being dragged like a rag doll.
He was placed in a standing position, shackled at the wrists to hold him up, as the Human dipped an arrow into a vial of poison he had collected on the way. Taking careful aim, he shot, hitting Voljaan right in his scar.
Voljaan didn’t scream. He didn’t feel anything, actually. But as the world was growing dark, as it always did for someone who was dying, he could have sworn he saw his fathers face in the clouds smiling down at him.
((I had a lot of fun playing with you all on the Horde side, but it's time for a change. Special thanks to those who were in Confusion, and those in Voodoo Hooligans. You guys were great!))