Vilmah
09-15-2006, 02:02 AM
The night hadn’t begun well.
She wasn’t paying attention to the arguments. Vilmah knew that it was pointless to argue with the Undead who had Niethan’s body. They needed to find his soul, first. She did was Shadospeak said, and stood guard. Eventually, Sulajin and the Undead came to an understanding. She took a seat, and tried to calm her nerves. Niethan’s absence made the tavern feel empty, but she wanted a bit of time to relax after the exhausting day. She’d spent hours interviewing new members of Sanctuary, taking advice from older members, swearing in the new people and showing them the ropes. It was hard work, but she loved it. They really truly seemed to believe in the cause…
And then he showed up.
Gorthok, menacing and drunk as always. He insulted her. He insulted her family, he insulted the fallen heroes of the Horde, and worst of all, he did it without the least bit of respect for her. Vilmah took little pride in her position as Warboss of Sanctuary. She felt she was on equal standing with her guild, but as a person, she felt she deserved respect.
“Worthless,” he’d spat at her.
She retaliated with words. In retrospect, she realized that this probably wouldn’t do in the future. Gorthok wasn’t one to be challenged, and he didn’t like the idea of Vilmah or Sanctuary, for some reason she couldn’t understand… and with Nojinbu showing up suddenly, her former guild leader attacked.
Nojinbu helped, but it wouldn’t do. Not with Contaminator at Gorthok’s side, and the rest of the tavern soon joining him. At one point, Vilmah found herself on the floor, bleeding from a deep stab wound. It was so painful, she couldn’t understand how Gorthok was still standing from the very wounds she’d given him herself. Both his foot and his liver bled heavily from her swords, yet he stood.
He even cut off her hair.
On the floor, with Nojinbu incapacitated by the cowardly attacks of so many, Vilmah felt the familiar feeling of despair. It wasn’t the loss of her hair, she mourned. It was the thought that so many would rally to the battle cries of a madman, in order to silence one who wanted nothing more than to save lives. Why was it so much easier for people to murder than to be kind? To hate than to love?
He loved her once.
Was it possible that his love had been twisted into so much hatred, that he actually enjoyed hurting her so? If that was the case… what sort of creatures were orcs? Vilmah didn’t know if she had that type of hatred within her. Even the humans who abused her as a child, she forgave. The feeling of hatred was too heavy for her delicate heart. It ate at her, when she allowed it to. She even tried to hate Gorthok, but instead, all she found was resounding pity. Nadea cared for him, and he obviously cared for her.. But she wondered how much he could love someone, when his hatred for others could go so far.
There was a part of Vilmah that was afraid for Nadea. Not that she needed Vilmah’s fear, she knew Nadea to be powerful, and strong in her own devices. She had many subordinates. Gorthok could not touch her, and he probably would not try. Still…
Gorthok bled heavily. Combined with the alcohol, he nearly lost his life from blood loss, while she was still standing. Vilmah thought for a moment, that some would call that a victory on her part. Certainly, it was impressive for one of both her season and her age to hold her own against a drunken orc in blood fury, but for her, this was no victory. Nojinbu was badly wounded. He’d been ambushed by so many, that even his basest instincts, his berserker rage, had come forth. On the floor he lay, while Vilmah used her knitting to tend his wounds. She felt helpless against the world that could so easily turn on her., and then…
“…Draekon?”
The tauren stood by her side, a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a bottle of liquid that would heal them, and stood guard. Proud of his standing, proud of his own honor , and proud of Sanctuary, he would protect them both. His strength as a warrior, and his experience was far greater than her own. Still… he could see that she was right to lead. Vilmah’s mind still asked why, even as she gave Nojinbu the healing potion. It began to work, but he didn’t regain consciousness. Vilmah took some as well, and soon her wounds began to scar over. After a while, people left, and people came. If this night had done anything, it proved that Sanctuary would stand by it’s beliefs against all odds. People began to ask questions. Even Keraph, a member of the dreaded Infection, gave Vilmah advice.
He reminded her that they would not make peace easy, for Sanctuary.
Vilmah smiled. She knew they wouldn’t, but she couldn’t hate him. She couldn’t hate anyone, as much as she tried. Not even Gorthok.
She picked up Nojinbu’s body, and lay him on Edmund’s back. Walking to the guild hall beside her loyal riding wolf, she felt a surge of pride. Yes, they were both injured, and this was certainly no happy night… but they were alive. And they would not relinquish their beliefs. Even if others tried to get them to succumb, they had come far. Sanctuary was growing in numbers. People were asking more and more questions. The Horde was, even in the most insignificant of ways, learning.
“We’re not all defined by war,” Vilmah had said, earlier.
She knew that it was true.
That night, she lay Nojinbu in his bed. He hardly used it, and the guildhall was mostly empty. Most of the other guild members were out on their own adventure, spreading the word of peace and justice across the continents. Vilmah was proud of them all. She smiled at Nojinbu, and knew he would wake up soon. The scars on his face were numerous, and deep. His eye was gone, and now, he would have every reason to want to end his peaceful beliefs within Sanctuary. Vilmah knew he wouldn’t. She quietly blew out the candle in his room, and left him to sleep.
It was far past noon before she even considered getting back up.
She wasn’t paying attention to the arguments. Vilmah knew that it was pointless to argue with the Undead who had Niethan’s body. They needed to find his soul, first. She did was Shadospeak said, and stood guard. Eventually, Sulajin and the Undead came to an understanding. She took a seat, and tried to calm her nerves. Niethan’s absence made the tavern feel empty, but she wanted a bit of time to relax after the exhausting day. She’d spent hours interviewing new members of Sanctuary, taking advice from older members, swearing in the new people and showing them the ropes. It was hard work, but she loved it. They really truly seemed to believe in the cause…
And then he showed up.
Gorthok, menacing and drunk as always. He insulted her. He insulted her family, he insulted the fallen heroes of the Horde, and worst of all, he did it without the least bit of respect for her. Vilmah took little pride in her position as Warboss of Sanctuary. She felt she was on equal standing with her guild, but as a person, she felt she deserved respect.
“Worthless,” he’d spat at her.
She retaliated with words. In retrospect, she realized that this probably wouldn’t do in the future. Gorthok wasn’t one to be challenged, and he didn’t like the idea of Vilmah or Sanctuary, for some reason she couldn’t understand… and with Nojinbu showing up suddenly, her former guild leader attacked.
Nojinbu helped, but it wouldn’t do. Not with Contaminator at Gorthok’s side, and the rest of the tavern soon joining him. At one point, Vilmah found herself on the floor, bleeding from a deep stab wound. It was so painful, she couldn’t understand how Gorthok was still standing from the very wounds she’d given him herself. Both his foot and his liver bled heavily from her swords, yet he stood.
He even cut off her hair.
On the floor, with Nojinbu incapacitated by the cowardly attacks of so many, Vilmah felt the familiar feeling of despair. It wasn’t the loss of her hair, she mourned. It was the thought that so many would rally to the battle cries of a madman, in order to silence one who wanted nothing more than to save lives. Why was it so much easier for people to murder than to be kind? To hate than to love?
He loved her once.
Was it possible that his love had been twisted into so much hatred, that he actually enjoyed hurting her so? If that was the case… what sort of creatures were orcs? Vilmah didn’t know if she had that type of hatred within her. Even the humans who abused her as a child, she forgave. The feeling of hatred was too heavy for her delicate heart. It ate at her, when she allowed it to. She even tried to hate Gorthok, but instead, all she found was resounding pity. Nadea cared for him, and he obviously cared for her.. But she wondered how much he could love someone, when his hatred for others could go so far.
There was a part of Vilmah that was afraid for Nadea. Not that she needed Vilmah’s fear, she knew Nadea to be powerful, and strong in her own devices. She had many subordinates. Gorthok could not touch her, and he probably would not try. Still…
Gorthok bled heavily. Combined with the alcohol, he nearly lost his life from blood loss, while she was still standing. Vilmah thought for a moment, that some would call that a victory on her part. Certainly, it was impressive for one of both her season and her age to hold her own against a drunken orc in blood fury, but for her, this was no victory. Nojinbu was badly wounded. He’d been ambushed by so many, that even his basest instincts, his berserker rage, had come forth. On the floor he lay, while Vilmah used her knitting to tend his wounds. She felt helpless against the world that could so easily turn on her., and then…
“…Draekon?”
The tauren stood by her side, a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a bottle of liquid that would heal them, and stood guard. Proud of his standing, proud of his own honor , and proud of Sanctuary, he would protect them both. His strength as a warrior, and his experience was far greater than her own. Still… he could see that she was right to lead. Vilmah’s mind still asked why, even as she gave Nojinbu the healing potion. It began to work, but he didn’t regain consciousness. Vilmah took some as well, and soon her wounds began to scar over. After a while, people left, and people came. If this night had done anything, it proved that Sanctuary would stand by it’s beliefs against all odds. People began to ask questions. Even Keraph, a member of the dreaded Infection, gave Vilmah advice.
He reminded her that they would not make peace easy, for Sanctuary.
Vilmah smiled. She knew they wouldn’t, but she couldn’t hate him. She couldn’t hate anyone, as much as she tried. Not even Gorthok.
She picked up Nojinbu’s body, and lay him on Edmund’s back. Walking to the guild hall beside her loyal riding wolf, she felt a surge of pride. Yes, they were both injured, and this was certainly no happy night… but they were alive. And they would not relinquish their beliefs. Even if others tried to get them to succumb, they had come far. Sanctuary was growing in numbers. People were asking more and more questions. The Horde was, even in the most insignificant of ways, learning.
“We’re not all defined by war,” Vilmah had said, earlier.
She knew that it was true.
That night, she lay Nojinbu in his bed. He hardly used it, and the guildhall was mostly empty. Most of the other guild members were out on their own adventure, spreading the word of peace and justice across the continents. Vilmah was proud of them all. She smiled at Nojinbu, and knew he would wake up soon. The scars on his face were numerous, and deep. His eye was gone, and now, he would have every reason to want to end his peaceful beliefs within Sanctuary. Vilmah knew he wouldn’t. She quietly blew out the candle in his room, and left him to sleep.
It was far past noon before she even considered getting back up.