NOTE: I dont claim to be a writer but for some reason I suddenly was inspired to write this, beats me why.. just was, hope y'all enjoy
The sickening thud of flesh on flesh echo'd through the hut, accompanied by a crack that could have only been bone as the large orcs fist nearly crumply one side of the Kaldorie's face with a strong punch from its armoured fist.
The elf had time to survey her surroundings as the orc yelled at her, though she didn't have a clue what the brute was on about, her only responce was to spit a thick glob of blood onto the dust covered ground to her side and look back at the orc, it's other fist was already swinging towards the other side of her face...
... How did it come to this?
----
"Durator 2 weeks earlier"
The Kaldorie huntress made her way towards her would be mentor, after much bargaining and pleading on her part the ancient shaman had agreed to teach her about shamanism as it is in the Horde.
Digging her heals into the flanks of her mount the great feline bounds forth, covering distance at high speed, the elf leaning forward in the saddle partially so she doesnt lose her balance.
Where the hell is that damn troll?
Her mind flashes over the events leading to this day, her time amongst those of the Circle, up to when she became a mercenary, operating in the name of the Masquerade. The pay was good but not good enough to make her kill those whom she swore she never would.
Faces also enter her mind, ignoring the yells of the guards as her mount speeds quickly through the camp known as Razor Hill, she knows she cant stop now. Faces of those she knew, both dead and alive.. In her heart she knows this day will either make or break her path to come and her part that she will play.
Finally she nears her destination, a small hut out in the red sands of Durator, pulling the reins of her mount the beast lumbers to a halt. She hits the ground silently, eyes shifting around the terrain to make sure she wasnt followed before heading into the hut.
Doesn't seem so big...
Ofcourse when she checked for someone trailing her she didnt expect the attack to be from within the hut...
---
With the second hit she reals back onto the red sand, the orc is yelling again and looks like it is getting annoyed by her lack of either replies or screams, she decides to herself its probably a bit of both.
For the briefest of moments she considers calling Æon in from his hunt, but opts against it, the shaman would probably cook her bloodthirsty companion, silently she wishes she had brought more than the simple shamanistic garb that was requested of her.
You cannot win...
She blinks and looks around, the voice was close, but she can't see anyone apart from the orc and troll who are now talking in their own language, seemingly not agreeing on something.
... You know what to do Moonsong...
She gasps as her skin suddenly feels as though it is on fire, agony washes over her, causing her body to writhe on the dust, her silvery hair and pale skin taking an almost fel shade to them through the dusts covering.
... What the hell... Fight it damn you!
Her mind cries out in protest as the agony continues, her cries of pain alerting both in the hut with her, though through the haze of pain she thinks she see's fear in their faces.. Nah, got to be halucinating.
... You really thought you could get rid of me with a simple little ritual? You amuse me Moonsong.. So I'll let you live, if you stop fighting..
The voice sounds almost warm, amused, the voices owner is grinning.. Somehow she knows this, but isnt sure how she knows. A sudden fresh wave of pain washes over her skin, this time it feels like she is being stabbed by a thousand needles all at once. Her teeth grit as she cries out once again, her fists so tightly balled that blood trickles down her palms and onto the sand, pooling about her in various places.
The orc and troll back off, though she is lay infront of the only door, they are trapped and they know it, in a panic the creatures look for their weapons...
I want... to... live...
... The orc falls to the ground before he reaches the glave, half of his face has literally been removed, gore splatters to the sand, staining it deep crimson. With his weapons drawn the ancient troll readies himself, his armour bearing the marks of a wolfs head, lighting crackling about the shoulders violently, he yells something... The Huntress knows this word all too well, her lips curl into a smile as she repeats the word in the tongue it so truely belongs...
"Demon..."
A sudden burst of frost hits her solidly in the torso, snapping her back to reality, her eyes flare balefully as she rolls to one side to avoid the deadly arch of the lightning, given strength by the spirits to this troll. The roll ends her by the orcs weapons, not like the brute will need them, she picks them up, single handed glaves, simple but somehow fitting.
Her near roar echo's through the hut, she charges forward with a burst of speed and leaps, spinning through the air, the first glave cutting downwards in a deadly arch which the shaman deftly evades. He's not so lucky with the true strike, cutting deeply across his throat, the Huntress spits onto the ground as the Shaman falls.
Make sure he dies...
With a nod the Huntress moves forward, the Troll is still alive when the glaves slice through his flesh and bone, starting at his feet and working their way upwards. When the Huntress is done all that is left is a pile of scattered gore, viscera and the occasional recognisable part.
Her eyes move around the hut, catching sight of herself in a mirror. Her skin once again covered in the markings she wore so long ago, her naked form caked in the gore that she so calmly delivered to these two wretched creatures. The shadow haze sinks back into the markings gradually as she watches herself in the glass, its almost like watching another person... almost.
The voice of her salvation, or damnation, sounds in her mind, though it seems to be mingled with her own mind now.
.. You did well, Moonsong, lets go home... Wherever that may be...
If you die and your holding on,
You see devils tearing your life away,
If you've made your peace,
Then the devils are really angels,
Freeing you from the earth
