Daedraug
08-06-2007, 01:06 AM
The seafoam haze at the borders of the Emerald Dream swirled and lifted like a morning fog. The whir of cicadas and the lilting melodies of song birds whose lyrics never reached the living world rose in a gentle crescendo through the air about him. Daedraug new the place in the way only the Kaldorei could: he had spent days roaming the primordial landscape in his first life, exploring as far as he dared into this world that might have been if not for the meddling of fledgling races.
In those days - in those dreams - he rode the spirits of the panthers, bears, and birds through the winding runs. Now he stood only as himself. Though he had left the path of Cenarious long before, at least as men measured time, he had never divorced himself from nature. In this place, though, there was no denying the aspect of nature which he had assumed. The great stags tensed at his approach, the white diamonds of their tails thrusting toward the canopy in warning before crashing away through the brush. Birds bolted skyward in tight flocks if he dared turn his gaze on them. A predator walked alone through the trees.
The land of the Emerald dream stands as the lands of the waking world would, save it lies wholly untouched by any sentient hand. Great human castles are still open, fertile fields there. Ironforge mountain is cold and snow-covered, no steam nor smoke pouring out it's solid core. Even roads are tight trails and well-worn deer-runs, no matter how well-built or well-traveled they might be as the sun shines on them.
As if summoned to the spot, Daedraug found himself at the intersection of two such paths. Without knowing, he had been traveling the circumference of a great hill, and his options would send him up its steep face or down the great, sloping angle. This was a sign from the ancients which could not be ignored; a desparate attempt at guidance aimed at a choice which Daedraug would be forced to make.
He studied the paths silently. The Upward path wove between two great grey stones covered in black moss. The way was uneven and broken, the footing unsteady. As his golden eyes followed the twisting trail an echo of roaring fury rose from beyond the gatestones. Two great sabres appeared upon the twin rocks, identical save their fur: on the right, a ghostly white cat with cold black eyes stared silently, and on the left an orange and red cat snarled and snapped with hate in its burning green orbs.
From the lower path a voice called. There was something familiar - home-like, even - about its song. So too were the face and form of the woman calling. Her features were obscured by the dark shadows of the thick canopy, and she stood with her arms outstreched in invitation. Her seductive form was barely clad in wisps of black cloth, and in the gentle breeze her hair twisted just so at every moment when her modesty would have become forfeit all together.
A battle raged within his mind. Though he had defeated awesome enemies, there was no doubt that the ghost-cat and the fire-cat would slay Daedraug eventually, for he was fighting up-hill and they ruled from atop their homes like fortresses. Yet also there was a dark feeling gnawing at the back of his mind when he turned to the woman. A sense of finality...maybe even doom.
Yet her body seemed to curve just so...
And her song was one he knew he could sleep to...
Perhaps it was only the fear of settling, he convinced himself. Perhaps it was only that same fear he had felt before when lying with human women - that constant dread of seeing them again a lifetime later and facing the loss of their youth in melancholy comparison to his own body. It was certain that both paths led to his death, but to die with the memories of having loved and been loved in return...
It was the smallest of steps; a shifting of weight, more properly, toward the beauty and invitation waiting at the end of the hill. A pebble at his feet was dislodged by the minute motion, and it tumbled down the path to the woman's feet. Her head lifted and she smiled. It was a grin that shined through the shadows and seemed to stretch grotesquely from ear to ear. A serpent's tongue flicked out from between the rows of gleaming teeth and Daedraug saw the shining eyes open and peer trough him in triumph.
He turned to run, to face the deadly beasts atop the rocks, for surely this fate was worse, but he couldn't find his footing. The tiny pebble had been but a harbinger for a landslide which began to pour out from under him, stealing the earth from beneath his feet. He scrambled like a wildcat, clawing with his fingernails and trying to grip any vine or root within reach but all gave way. Somehow in his terror the song had grown more beautiful, and the woman sang of love and justice. But a sickening growl was rising like thunder from further down the path - a black sound which could only come from the visceral Nightmare which scoured across the Emerald Dream leaving unspeakable horrors behind it. It pooled at his feet and rose like the tide of an obsidian sea coming in, its waves lashing at his bare feet like a scorpion's tail.
His glowing eyes wide with terror, Daedraug made a final wild lunge for the thick root of an ancient. His hand locked around dirt-caked salvation, and soon his chest pressed hard against it as he bound himself to the root with both arms, his legs dangling in the air. He found the ancient's face, the owl-hooked nose and deep knotted eyes stared down at him. He called to it in the Kaldorei tongue, screaming for help.
It's fissure-mouth drew tight before a single amber tear bubbled from one eye.
The ancient gave its roots a great shake, and Daedraug fell into the black.
In those days - in those dreams - he rode the spirits of the panthers, bears, and birds through the winding runs. Now he stood only as himself. Though he had left the path of Cenarious long before, at least as men measured time, he had never divorced himself from nature. In this place, though, there was no denying the aspect of nature which he had assumed. The great stags tensed at his approach, the white diamonds of their tails thrusting toward the canopy in warning before crashing away through the brush. Birds bolted skyward in tight flocks if he dared turn his gaze on them. A predator walked alone through the trees.
The land of the Emerald dream stands as the lands of the waking world would, save it lies wholly untouched by any sentient hand. Great human castles are still open, fertile fields there. Ironforge mountain is cold and snow-covered, no steam nor smoke pouring out it's solid core. Even roads are tight trails and well-worn deer-runs, no matter how well-built or well-traveled they might be as the sun shines on them.
As if summoned to the spot, Daedraug found himself at the intersection of two such paths. Without knowing, he had been traveling the circumference of a great hill, and his options would send him up its steep face or down the great, sloping angle. This was a sign from the ancients which could not be ignored; a desparate attempt at guidance aimed at a choice which Daedraug would be forced to make.
He studied the paths silently. The Upward path wove between two great grey stones covered in black moss. The way was uneven and broken, the footing unsteady. As his golden eyes followed the twisting trail an echo of roaring fury rose from beyond the gatestones. Two great sabres appeared upon the twin rocks, identical save their fur: on the right, a ghostly white cat with cold black eyes stared silently, and on the left an orange and red cat snarled and snapped with hate in its burning green orbs.
From the lower path a voice called. There was something familiar - home-like, even - about its song. So too were the face and form of the woman calling. Her features were obscured by the dark shadows of the thick canopy, and she stood with her arms outstreched in invitation. Her seductive form was barely clad in wisps of black cloth, and in the gentle breeze her hair twisted just so at every moment when her modesty would have become forfeit all together.
A battle raged within his mind. Though he had defeated awesome enemies, there was no doubt that the ghost-cat and the fire-cat would slay Daedraug eventually, for he was fighting up-hill and they ruled from atop their homes like fortresses. Yet also there was a dark feeling gnawing at the back of his mind when he turned to the woman. A sense of finality...maybe even doom.
Yet her body seemed to curve just so...
And her song was one he knew he could sleep to...
Perhaps it was only the fear of settling, he convinced himself. Perhaps it was only that same fear he had felt before when lying with human women - that constant dread of seeing them again a lifetime later and facing the loss of their youth in melancholy comparison to his own body. It was certain that both paths led to his death, but to die with the memories of having loved and been loved in return...
It was the smallest of steps; a shifting of weight, more properly, toward the beauty and invitation waiting at the end of the hill. A pebble at his feet was dislodged by the minute motion, and it tumbled down the path to the woman's feet. Her head lifted and she smiled. It was a grin that shined through the shadows and seemed to stretch grotesquely from ear to ear. A serpent's tongue flicked out from between the rows of gleaming teeth and Daedraug saw the shining eyes open and peer trough him in triumph.
He turned to run, to face the deadly beasts atop the rocks, for surely this fate was worse, but he couldn't find his footing. The tiny pebble had been but a harbinger for a landslide which began to pour out from under him, stealing the earth from beneath his feet. He scrambled like a wildcat, clawing with his fingernails and trying to grip any vine or root within reach but all gave way. Somehow in his terror the song had grown more beautiful, and the woman sang of love and justice. But a sickening growl was rising like thunder from further down the path - a black sound which could only come from the visceral Nightmare which scoured across the Emerald Dream leaving unspeakable horrors behind it. It pooled at his feet and rose like the tide of an obsidian sea coming in, its waves lashing at his bare feet like a scorpion's tail.
His glowing eyes wide with terror, Daedraug made a final wild lunge for the thick root of an ancient. His hand locked around dirt-caked salvation, and soon his chest pressed hard against it as he bound himself to the root with both arms, his legs dangling in the air. He found the ancient's face, the owl-hooked nose and deep knotted eyes stared down at him. He called to it in the Kaldorei tongue, screaming for help.
It's fissure-mouth drew tight before a single amber tear bubbled from one eye.
The ancient gave its roots a great shake, and Daedraug fell into the black.