Loading...
en

Ros's blog

advertisement

"Quiet Contemplation"


Weeks had passed since her rescue from Nazmir and Rosinthel had finally made her way back to the Eastern Kingdoms. Not only had she found her way back to civilization, but she had been reunited with her stoic companion, a grand tigress named Nuala. The two eventually made their way to the Human capital of Stormwind and settled in near the graveyard, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. The elf had typically kept to herself before the kidnapping, but now she withdrew much more.


Rosinthel ordered Nuala to stay behind near their makeshift camp as she did not want to draw any more attention to herself that she possibly already had. The already petite elf had still not regained her appetite and it was clearly obvious she was underweight and malnourished from her time abroad. Still, she had enough energy to make her way to the Cathedral park, where she sat alone...staring at the roses that climbed the trellis near the wedding gazebo.


"I hate Xanji...and yet I miss him..." she thought to herself, crinkling her nose in disgust at the passing thought. She let out a defeated sigh and hung her head, a lock of teal hair falling from the gold embroidered cowl she had been gifted by Killian before her departure from Nazmir. Killian had seemed like such a strong, good man. Someone that she herself could have seen herself with before Nazmir. Before...the Blood Trolls. Rosinthel brought her gloved hand to her face, catching a tear that she failed to hold back before inhaling sharply in attempt to regain her composure. "You have to move on..." she whispered.


It was then she was greeted by an all too familiar voice. A haunting voice that echoed and twisted in the deepest depths of her psyche. "You will never be able to move on," the voice purred, "I will never let you forget....'chil'." 'Chil', That one word struck her heart as the voice bellowed in maniacal laughter before fading away. Rosinthel was beginning to work herself up when she noticed a faint light peeking from under her hood. She quickly looked around to see if anyone could see her before she reached under her cowl to pull forth what looked to be a tentacle.


She ran her hand over it, pulling it softly only to realize it was connected to her...what was this? "Do you like it? The more you falter, the more you break, the more you show...no. The more *I* show. You have tried to hold me back far too long. Xanji never owned you, he simply broke you. You belong to me...and we are one. Ahhh yes, I think we shall come to make beautiful music together, you and I. I hope you enjoy this gift I have bestowed upon you..." Rosinthel quickly shoved the void tendril back under her cowl with a trembling hand and just like that, the voice echoed into darkness once again...

"New Lands, New Opportunities Pt.5 - Finale"


The light of the blood moon shone through to a filthy cage that Rosinthel had been calling home for the past few months. There she lie among the stench and rot of fetid remnants of slaughtered corpses. She took every violent attack and insult hurled at her by both her captors as well as the whispers inside of her own head; at times caving in to the torment and honestly believing there to be truth in the degradation. Now belonging to the cruel and sadistic blood troll, Xanji, came with its benefits however. She might have been beaten, humiliated, used and abused day in and day out but she was well fed and her strength had returned to her.


With the Alliance and Horde landing attacks on Uldir, Xanji had been called out to investigate a curious commotion near the camp. Rosinthel sat up in her tiny prison, craning her neck as much as she could in attempt to see what the ordeal was. Her ear pricked at what sounded like a Gryphons cry in the distance. "Is that..." she whispered to herself before stopping short as an old voice broke through the void to remind her, All of your friends have abandoned you. Sealing her eyes shut, she shook her head firmly as if to shake the whispers from her mind. "No. That *IS* someone!"


It didn't take long for the commotion to turn into a full fledged attack as a rag tag group of Mercenaries plowed their way through the Blood Troll camp, laying down everything and one in their path. Rosinthel stirred in her kennel as the voices approached. All she could hear was gunfire and heavy thuds followed by "All Clear!" She put two and two together and realized they were exterminating every troll in the camp. No trolls meant no food and no way out of her cell. Frantically, she began to claw the the door to her cage in a feeble attempt to free herself.


Eventually one of the mercs made his way into the hut she was staying. Clad in heavy plate, he swung his sword in the direction of her movement, not having realized she was not a Blood Troll and indeed a captive. The sword smashed through the top corner of her sturdy wooden cage with a crushing blow and as he brought the massive blade back in the upswing he realized just how small his "target" was. Shocked, he quickly lowered his weapon and called out for backup, "I need backup, I've found a captive!" An older human male approached the door, surveyed the hut and pushed his way over to the filthy elf. "By the Light, what have they done to you my child?" he exclaimed as he set down his mace and drew his cloak around her body, covering her in attempt to preserve her modesty. Rosinthel just sat there in shock. It had been so long since she had been allowed to speak. She vaguely knew who these humans sided with, but she wasn't sure what to say or do. "Fetch a horse, lets get her back to Fort Victory." the older man commanded.


While the younger man rushed off to gather a horse, the older man sat with the terrified woman. He wrapped his arms around her in attempt to comfort her as they awaited transport. He was a stocky yet athletic man, in his late fifties perhaps with a short greying beard. Rosinthel felt a warmth radiating from him, a presence...the light. Its intensity hurt at first, but eventually became calming. The relaxing effect wouldn't last before a full mental assault of her mind commenced. This man is cloaked in lies and deceit. He will preach truth and order but he already set against you... She clenched up, as if to shut out the noise that only she could hear. The mans arms held her tighter, slowly rocking her in reassurance that everything was indeed, "alright" and they would be "home soon." As soon as the whispers begun they had stopped. The horses were ready.


The apparent Paladin had walked her outside where the younger man sat atop a sturdy black warhorse. Looking down to Rosinthel he explained, "You will ride with Killian. Do not be afraid, he will transport you safely to Fort Victory and from there you can rest and we can arrange passage back to the safety of Boralus. You are with friends now, no one will hurt you." He guided her over to Killian, picking her up to help her sit atop the Horse, in front of the younger man. His plate armor dug into her back the entire ride back to Fort Victory, but it hurt no more than what she had just spent months going through at the hands of Xanji. Killian attempted to make small talk on the ride, but Rosinthel wasn't able to focus on the conversation as much as the change in scenery and landscape.


They eventually arrived at the foothold by mid day and to her surprise there was a familiar face awaiting her. It was a face she had not seen in what felt like an eternity. A face that immediately snapped her out of her trance. A face that the whispers had screamed that had abandoned her...It was Nuala! The small elf bolted down from the horse, much to Killians surprise, and rushed towards the massive creature. "My love! My love, it really is you!" Rosinthel sobbed, the words now coming to her. The tigress let loose a roar as she ran into her Mistresses arms. The once inseperable pair were finally reunited.

"That is your beast then? You're Rosinthel Duskrunner! I heard of you back in Shatterstone Harbor. When your companion came back without you, we had all assumed the worst! Oh, thank the Light you are alive!" Killian exclaimed. "Hey everyone! Rosinthel Duskrunner is alive! Gather round, lets welcome her home!" Various people began to gather, bringing the elf clothing and food, showing her around the camp and helping her to settle in before the trip back to Kul Tiras. She was finally free and back in the welcoming embrace of the Alliance.


(End)



Epilogue: I know the ending seems rushed/sloppy and it unfortunately was. You see, the first few chapters of this piece were written during a very troubling and upsetting time in my life. It was a sense of therapy I suppose and a lot *has* changed in the past few months in my real life as well as IC. I have overcome my trauma in real life and in a twisted sense that made it very difficult to continue on with the ending that I had planned. I also lost RP partners that potentially could have made this a more suitable ending but then again, who is to say. Long story short, I lost my "muse". All characters mentioned aside from my character, Rosinthel, are completely fictitious.

"New Lands, New Opportunities - Pt.4"

[TRIGGER WARNING: IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT, ENSLAVEMENT]




Night descended on the fetid swamps of Nazmir and the Blood Troll village Rosinthel had found herself bound to. She was growing weaker with each disgusting act of servitude and accompanying void whisper. One by one she cleaned up the remains of each sacrifice, preparing the rancid alter for the Blood Trolls next victim until the larger male troll tasked with overseeing her barked some incomprehensible orders in his native tongue at her and pointed to a small hut that sat atop a hill, looking down to the sacrificial gathering spot below. She turned to look up at his physical commands with dead, defeated eyes; obeying as she drug herself up the incline to the hut. Inside there was a blood stained table, a hammock, and a wooden cage. "Get in it...you know damned well that bed isn't for you. You don't deserve comfort after everything you have done - or failed to do..." the voice cackled maniacally, and with a soft sigh, she began to make her way to the cage before a firm hand grabbed her arm and spun her around violently.


The male troll stool towering over her with his massive stature, her eyes meeting his chest before he crouched down to meet her eye to eye. He placed both of his hands atop her shoulders, two of his 3 fingers per hand inside the collar of her shirt as she began to pull outward slowly. The small elf shut her eyes tight as the whispers attacked her psyche. "Give in to it...you know what he wants...DO IT! GIVE UP!" The voice echoed as it trailed off and with one quick jerk, the Troll ripped her damaged top off - exposing her pale, void-touched body. "Ah, look at you now, chil'...ya be lookin' like a snack..." he chuckled, flashing a wicked smile as he drug a dirty, bloodstained finger across her bare breast. Rosinthel kept her eyes shut and her arms to her side, attempting to steady her heart rate in order to keep her fear hidden. She knew that he wanted to see her scared and she still had some fight left in her. He looked her up and down, studying her. "Wha else ya be hidin' for me, now I wonda?" His hands moved down her waist and to her hips as he slid down her pants, slowly taking in the sight of her teal bush as he reached to the table beside him to grab a knife caked in dried blood.


Standing back up to tower over her once more, he grabbed her by the back of the head forcefully, jerking her head back to expose her neck as he held the dirty blade to her throat. "You and I..." he started, "We be goin' to have fun now, ya see?" The blade dug into her neck as she maintained her composure. "Ting is, chil'..." his voice suddenly fell flat and with a gutteral growl, "I wan' ya to scream!" His left hand dug his nails into her hip as he bit her shoulder, drawing blood. The naked Ren'Dorei couldn't hold back any more and let out a loud roar of pain as she attempted to fight him off. "Let go, quit resisting..." the voice continued. She couldn't give up that easy. The troll was double her size and she wasn't skilled in hand to hand combat, but she couldn't just give up. The pair squirmed and tussled in violent conflict on the filthy floor as he attempted to mount her. Blow after blow struck her body as she clawed, bit, and fought her way in vain attempt to free herself from the assault. In what seemed like an eternity, he had successfully worn her out and pinned her down; one massive hand holding both of hers above her head as he fumbled with his pants, attempting to ready himself for the deed.


She lied there, defeated, as the familiar echo returned, "You've lost...again. When will you quit struggling? When will you listen to me? When will you realize that I know what is right for you?" Her bare chest heaved in attempt to catch her breath as she readied herself for the next vicious act that seemed to be in store for her. She simply hadn't the energy left to continue fighting. Glancing up to the troll, she attempted to incite mercy with failed response. He stared into her eyes aggressively with his jet black gaze as he continued to struggle with his pants, finally freeing himself as he pressed himself against her spread thighs. "I been waitin' for dis since I saw ya. Ya ain't gonna be no sacrifice If'n I can help it..." he pressed deeper into her as pain shot through her hips. He put his forearm across her neck, applying steady pressure to her trachea. "Ya belon' to ol' Xanji now, ya hear? If'n ya fight me, I may not be killin' ya outright, chil'; but ya gonna wish ya be dead so jus' do what I be tell'n ya." She instinctually brought her hands up to his forearm, squirming as she attempted to lift his weight from her throat. "Ya be strugglin' still, tch tch...when ya gonna trus' me now?" His brow furrowed and his voice deepened once more as he held down tighter, choking her unconcious. She lie there, vulnerable to the trolls advances as he ravaged her lifeless body to completion. "Ya gonna learn, chil'..."


The entire violent act was finished almost as soon as it began as the troll stood up and used her shredded clothing to clean the various fluids up with. Once everything was put back in place, he bent to drag her unconscious body into the cage as he tucked her feet under her limp frame; throwing her dirty clothes in the kennel to use as bedding before securing the door. He stood back briefly, arms folded with a smile to take in the sight of his new, battered trophy before making his way outside in search of food and clothing for his new "pet" while he thought of a way to convince the Ma'da to spare the lithe elf he wanted to keep...


(TBC)

"New Lands, New Opportunities Pt.3"

[TRIGGER WARNING: Torture, Abuse]


Rosinthel awoke bound and gagged atop a large isopod-like creature. The sun had set far in the sky; nightfall was upon her and what seemed to be a small party of perhaps ten or so making their way through the dunes near the Nazmir border - far off her original course. The hulking creatures appeared to be of the rumored serpent race, Sethrak, and as she soon realized this to be the case; things did not look good. She closed her eyes, not wishing to drawn attention to heself as plan after plan to escape darted and dashed through her mind, each one seeming more futile than the last as she had no weapon and she had no companion - "NUALA!" She thought, her mind racing as she held back pangs of guilt for having left the great beast behind. "Oh please, have no harm come to her..." The thought of the stoic creature left alone in an alien environment tore through Rosinthels heart like a sharpened blade as every dark thought of her beloved companion wasting away from her failure to secure the area flooded her psyche.


Just as she began to fight back tears, a loud explosion hit the party followed by blood effectively covering the entire group. Shell-shocked and confused the Sethrak searched themselves for injuries only to realize the blood was not their own. Amidst the confusion, an intense tribal yell was roared out as a massive party of Blood Trolls overtook the caravan. "Round dem up and keep dem alive! We need more sacrifices for G'huun!" a blood soaked Matron called out; swinging a bola above her head to release in the direction of a fleeing Sethrak slaver. She bared her bloodstained teeth in a wicked grin as the bola landed its target face down in the sands in rough impact.


Rosinthel had no way to flee as she watched her initial capturers fall one by one to the Blood Troll assault. The unusual beast she was strapped atop attempted to flee, but was met by a pack of nightmarish and ravenous bipedal creatures that quickly took its many legs from under it, forcing it to the ground before being called back by the Head Matron. It wasn't long before two emaciated, gangly male blood trolls found her; one much larger than the other. The two spoke in a language unknown to Rosinthel, "Ma'da gonna be pleased with dis one 'ere." the smaller one chuckled to the other. "Ay, she be lookin' differen' den de rest." the taller one responded as he proceeded to unstrap the small elf from the beast only to nonchalantly toss her over his towering shoulder; carrying her off into the swamps of Nazmir with the other captives.


Upon their arrival to the Matron, the larger of the two dropped her from his shoulder onto the hard ground as the two males bowed down in front of the Matron, hands on the floor in submission. "We found dis one atop de krolusk, Ma'da." The Ranger cried out in pain as her shoulder slammed into the worn stone below, instinctively squirming in attempt to break free. The Matron took a knee as she gripped Rosinthels face with a boney hand, sharp nails digging into her cheeks hard enough to draw blood. She looked the Ren'dorei over closely, taking note of her distinct features. Her entire hand and body reaked of old, dried blood touched with death as the Matron spoke in incomprehensible form, "Now, now, 'dere child. While ya be a worthy sacrifice for G'huun, we neva see ya kind 'ere before. So..." her fetid breath hit the Ranger hard, "We be savin' ya for last." A sadistic chuckle escaped the Matrons lips as she gripped the elfs face harder, before shoving her back down to the ground before licking the freshly drawn blood from her nails "Suspend 'er, have 'er witness G'huuns might." The two males scurried upright and began to carry off the struggling Void Elf as she screamed cries of defiance from beneath the gag.


She continued to struggle as the larger blood troll carried her through the filthy camp. The horrors before her quickly stilled her actions however as she bore witness to the sadistic and masochistic ways of this tribe. Mutilated, blood drained corpses of various races hung rotting from the huts in ornamental display while piles of bones were thrown into fetid pits for the nightmarish beasts she had witnessed working alongside the blood trolls during the assault. Her eyes were focused on the atrocities before her as the smaller blood troll began to ready the restraints around her wrists. Rosinthel found herself weeping, unsure of where or what was going to happen to her as the larger troll lowered her to the ground before hoisting her up by her wrists to suspend in the air, facing what seemed to be an alter covered in blood and entrails.


Once suspended and secured, the larger male turned to the elf to watch her expressions as one of her initial Sethrak capturers was drug to the alter against his will with the help of the smaller Troll. She cried out as her eyes widened at the struggle the serpent put up. "Shh mon, shh. It be alright. His sacrifice be feedin' G'huun and G'huun be givin' us power. Ya learn soon enough." and with that final comment he struck her behind the legs with a swamp reed. Cries of agony erupted forth from her gagged mouth as the reed landed a sharp blow to the back of her thighs. "Look at you, strung up there, powerless to help...again. Pathetic." An all too familiar voice assaulted her mind...


The Ren'dorei's frame suddenly went limp as she fixated on the atrocity unfurling before her, taking every void whisper as it came. "You sought me out, like a child seeks a parent..." the seductive voice taunted,"You sought power to make up for your own inability to save your people, your family." She began to struggle as the Trolls beat the Sethrak into submission, brutalizing him to a point where he could struggle no longer as his chest still heaved with painful draws. The ritual was beginning. "Look at him, splayed atop that alter. Not so different than Arthas raising your family now, is it?" the voice echoed laughter. "You weren't there to witness that, but look at you here now - take it all in. His death feeds us and you have failed, again." Emphasis was dropped hard on the last word as she began to break down into uncontrollable sobs at the sight of the Sethrak being mutilated beyond recognition upon the alter of blood. His life energy swirling in an intense light as it traveled to the Old God before finally being snuffed out. "Your family, your people, your allies at the Gates of Lordaeron, even your feline companion...all...your...fault." The firm voice trailed off...


The Ranger hung there, lifeless, as the Matron walked by with a wicked grin as she spoke to the larger Troll, "Drop 'er and have 'er ready de alter for de next sacrifice." "Yes Ma'da." he obeyed as he cut her down. He then pointed to her restraints, to the woods and then to his reed as if to convey that if she ran he would strike her down. She nodded in compliance as he cut her free and lowered her gag. Her jaw was stiff from being forced open for so long. She began to rub her bruised wrists and jaw in a moment of solace before she was abruptly pushed towards the alter. Unsure of what was going to happen to her she broke down to her knees in uncontrollable fear, begging the towering Troll not to sacrifice her before being whipped across her arm with the reed, breaking through her shirt and through to her skin adding a nasty laceration to her forearm.


He threw a basket at her and used his arm in a sweeping motion, pointing at the alter before taking a seat on a nearby stone to oversee her work. She grabbed her arm, applying firm pressure to attempt to curb the bleeding as she slowly turned around to pick up the basket, blood now soaking through her torn sleeve. Soft cries from emotional torment flooded her as approached the alter and began to remove the very few mutilated parts of what was left of the Sethrak into the basket. Most of the larger pieces had already been taken away to be prepared as food for the cannibalistic tribe, however the entrails and such had been left behind as what would appear as food for the war beasts in the nearby pit.


With the alter cleaned and the basket filled she looked back to the troll, who was taking apparent pleasure at the mental abuse the Ren'Dorei was struggling with. Upon noticing the job was complete he approached her, looking around to see if any of the other tribe members could see them before he placed a hand on her face, turning her head to expose her neck as he caressed the bare skin with an evil smile. "You love it..." a whisper repeated in her head before the Troll quickly straightened up at the sound of someone approaching. Drawing his reed he belted the elf in the ribs before pointing to the filled basket and ushering her to the pit of beasts, where she would drop off the leftovers.


She had given up, the whispers were right. Her defeat in the 3rd war was her fault. Her family perishing was her fault and even Nuala was her fault. This what what she deserved and she was actually growing to enjoy the freedom the painful whispers provided her. She continued to witness and clean up after the sacrifices one by one like a mindless slave until she noticed that the fresh body count was getting lower and soon her number would be up. Where fear would once flood her, she was numb...the void whispers had her fully convinced it was in her best interest...


(TBC)

(New Lands, New Opportunities Pt.2)


The small, lithe elf continued to make her way through the Alliance foothold of Shatterstone Harbor as the unforgiving sun pressed down hard upon her. The breeze through the makeshift streets didn't offer much relief as the wind kicked up the dry parched earth below. It wasn't long until she came across a middle aged human man, clad in Alliance colors, barking orders left and right to seemingly new faces atop a shattered terrace. "This must be my contact..." she pondered momentarily before she made her way up the terrace to report in.


She approached the man, Nuala in tow, to meet his green gaze; her hand extended with the folded documentation of her mission she had accepted in Kul Tiras. "Ah, you don't seem like a new recruit - too soft. You must be the trailblazer I've been waiting on, took you long enough!" he bellowed out in a harsh, raspy tone as a playful smirk crossed his weathered and war torn face. Rosinthel and Nuala both startled at the sudden boom of volume in the mans voice as she gave him a polite nod in agreement before speaking in her typical calm, melodic manner, "Yes Sir, Rosinthel Duskrunner reporting in, the beast here is Nuala. We are ready to lend our aid for the Alliance." "Sergeant Ermey..." the man replied with an informal salute as he unfurled the paperwork to glance over, mumbling to himself as he read.


"Ah, yes, I see." He continued on as he read the mission details; looking up over the paperwork to meet her eyes once more. "Given your uhm, ethnicity, I assume you know what the job details then?" It was obvious he meant no harm, but the emphasis he put on her racial background cut like a knife. She chuckled softly in response, "Yes Sir, I do. Leave it to Nuala and I to find you an alternate route to Deadwood Cove." "Good, good, well then..." he hastily rolled the missive back up, turning to place it in a crate behind a desk, "Get a MOVE ON!" he roared once more, laughing at how easily startled the two were as they jumped back slightly before grabbing her pack and heading out. As the Ranger and her companion made their way out of the encampment, Sergeant Ermey smiled as he thought to himself,"Ahh, they'll be fine in the quiet wilds."


The two made their way through a small, winding canyon before they reached the vast open sea of sand dunes. Rosinthel looked down to her jet black companion from underneath her cowl, taking note of pale dusty dunes before them. She searched around before grabbing handful after handful of the mineral rich sands, smearing them into the great tigress' coat - essentially blending the non-native beast in with the new, earth rich tones of the environment. Fully camouflaged, she gave the dusky copper creature a nod of approval before they set off through the dunes.


The suns radiant heat continued to beat down upon them, amplifying and reflecting off of the burning sands below. If they didn't find shelter soon, they would indeed perish. The pair took refuge under what looked to be the ruins of an ancient troll civilization as she dug through her pack for her trusty bronze telescope to scan the horizon of life; for where there was life, surely there would be water. It wasn't long until she spotted a small group of Saurolisks basking in the desert sun nearby. Packing her scope she ushered the noticeably dehydrated tigress to push on a bit further as they made their way to investigate this area of activity.


The Ranger took note of the hostile beasts position but also that the reptiles seemed enthralled by the mid day suns energy. She used this to her advantage as she crept around them slowly, not drawing attention to herself, before noticing a path that lead down into a lush oasis. She knew better than to rush into the seemingly tranquil area and instead perched herself atop a small outcrop of boulders as Nuala ventured down below. Telescope in hand once more, she followed Nualas movements as she stalked her way down the winding path, taking heed for any hostilities.


Rosinthel continued to track the beasts movements as two humanoid figures appeared from under the nearby sands without a sound. She didn't have a chance to alert Nuala before she was struck on the back of the head, falling to the ground with a soft thud. All went black as she felt herself being bound and carried off by what appeared to be large serpents...leaving the tigress alone in the oasis, unaware of her Mistresses plight.


(TBC)

"New Lands, New Opportunities..."


Upon her arrival back to Stormwind following her mission in Tirisfal Glades weeks ago, Rosinthel had learned of Jaina Proudmoores aide in Lordaeron during the battle and her suggestion to travel to request the help of the Kul Tiran Naval Force. The war was escalating against the Horde, who had paired up with the Zandalari Troll Empire that was settled on the Island of Zandalar; ships distance away from the seafaring people of Kul Tiras.


Exhausted, but able, she ferreted out a contract and secured passage to Kul Tiras via the majestic and intimidatingly large Kul Tiran ship that Jaina had ushered into harbor upon her return. The small elf gathered her supplies and her companion, the ebony tigress Nuala, and proceeded to board the vessel. Once on board, she settled into the hull with the cargo so as not to disturb any of the crewmen or passengers with her or her beasts presence, as a large tiger on a ship would surely cause waves...


Once out to sea the ancient vessel moved with all of the strength and determination of a small continent. Creaking and groaning as it crushed through the massive swells of the Azerothian Sea on it's way home to Kul Tiras. Rosinthel looked down as she wrapped her arm around her companion in comfort; the the ship swaying with each crest. "Steady girl, I have you my love." she cooed, attempting to ease the great beasts unease. It wasn't but a few moments later that the tide turned to calmer seas and the two bed down to some much needed rest.


A weeks time had passed and they had arrived in Boralus, the Kul Tiran Capital City. It was a nautical town, typical of the seafaring Kul Tirans. Pack on hand, they disembarked to make their way into town to stock back up with much needed supplies. The streets were lined with many vendors selling their wares and delicacies. To her amusement, there was plenty for them to eat here as this was a harbor town and fish dishes were abundant. She bought quite a few rations of this newfound and apparently imported "Loa Loaf" for later, but tonight the two dined on Spiced Snapper as a treat as they quietly retreated to the shoreline under the docks to enjoy their meal in quiet comfort.


After their meal, Rosinthel and the hearty cat headed down to the docks to see if any work was available. The 7th Legion was seeking Pathfinders to help aid them in finding alternate routes from the new Alliance foothold, Shatterstone Harbor, off the coast of Vol'dun down to a smaller encampment to the south, Deadwood Cove. This was something she excelled in accomplishing and the added gold was much needed. She graciously accepted the contract and the duo set sail that evening for the desolate landscape of Vol'Dun.


Days had passed when the two finally arrived to Shatterstone Harbor. She shielded her eyes as the pair disembarked into the dry sandy ruins of what seemed to be an ancient troll encampment, now currently occupied by various members of the Alliance - soldiers, adventurers, and the like. Upon landfall, with the sun bearing down on them, she dropped her bag to the ground and dug around until she eventually came along a cowl to assist in keeping the sun off of her face; as well as help break up her image in the dunes when they would begin trailblazing through them here shortly.


The two then proceeded to walk down the dusty pathways, taking in the sights as miniature saurids, or compies, scurried past them. The grand tigress flattened her ears with annoyance as a trio bumped in to her on their way to scavenge trash piles in the distance. With a soft chuckle, Rosinthel patted the stoic creatures side and ushered her to continue along as they checked in with her contact, Sergeant Ermey, to be briefed before they headed out...
(TBC.)
"Torturous Whispers"

Rosinthel had just landed on the northern shores of Tirisfal Glades, formerly Northern Lordaeron. She had spent the good part of the week cooped up with her stoic tigress, Nuala, on a ship that had been chartered by Alliance forces to deliver her and a few other unknown scouts to the area on a reconnaissance mission. Her orders were:"Scout the area, Observe and take note of enemy mobilization, Discover any weapons caches and/or units, Return and report her findings."

Once disembarking from the unmarked ship, she and her feline companion made for the dusk shrouded, damp cover of the Tirisfal forest. The stench of death and decay hung thick in the glade, as this area had been occupied by Forsaken forces for going on 13 years now. Every step the pair took in the blight ridden forests had to be taken lightly, so as not to alert any undead or Forsaken civilians. It was a matter of hours before Nuala crouched low, her large round ears laid back against her massive skull, the signal that danger was near. Rosinthel slowly dropped to the ground, taking cover under a thorny bramble with the black beast, melding into the scenery.

Two ghoulish bodies staggered by in unison. "Wait a moment," she thought to herself,"In unison...these are not undead." Her eyes followed the pair, taking mental note of the armor they adorned, along with their Forsaken tabards. The elf and her companion stalked the Forsaken guards to the edge of the forest. As she reached the edge, her view shifted past the guards to where they were headed...the massive and decrepit Gates of Lordaeron. Her eyes grew at the sight of war machines and troops, preparing fortifications for an oncoming attack.

Rosinthel quickly closed her eyes, trying to divert the invading void tainted whispers that had just begun to swirl in her mind..."How would the Forsaken know an attack was coming? Why did the Alliance send you here? They sent you here to die for their cause...You have been found out, the position is compromised. Run away, they deserve to know nothing. Deliver them all into undeath." Her ear twitched at the mental assault and with a brief shake of her head she snapped out of it. The sturdy obsidian beasts emerald eyes peered up to her Mistress in concern. Rosinthel took one more look out to the gates at the war machines, quickly kissed the enormous creatures forehead in reassurance and with a nod of her head they both made their way back into deeper cover of the glade.

The duo fled with great speed and agility through the twists and turns of the musky wood, urgently attempting to make it back to the rendezvous point before anyone could be alerted of their presence. She had stopped short of the coast when she spotted something in the distance. Quickly reaching around to her pack she pulled out a bronze telescope and cast her view to the oceans horizon to find the majority of the Alliance Navy off the coast. She stood there, dumbstruck at how quickly they had shown up, wondering if perhaps another scout had reported in before she had the chance to.

Either way, she was beginning to question this battle. With a sharp inhale she was bombarded of visions of what she could only assume was to come...something terrible was going to happen and she had friends that would surely be down there. Rosinthel reached to her head, pressing her fingers to her temples as if to silence the void energy radiating throughout her. Nuala stepped back, crouching down as she always did to signal danger, only this time the beast wrapped her tail around her in a mild cower. Void energy pulsed around the small elf, the tendrils in her hair taking to a life of their own, snaking around slowly as a dark cloud enshrouded her.

There she stood, in the forest alone while the void energies encompassed her body, piercing and attacking her mind, preying on her insecurities. Reminding her of her failed attempts to warn others of Teldrassil, blaming the loss of life on her inability to speak up. The historically fearless beast slunk away behind a tree as the void rose up in the woman squeezing a tormented wail from her, "It wasn't my fault!" An explosion erupted from her that tainted everything around her in deep twilight. With a tremble, she quickly regained her balance and urgently searched for her companion who, intelligently, hid behind an impressive pine.

The tigress eased out from the shelter slowly, searching her Mistress for any harm. "I thought I had hurt you, I am so very sorry my friend." she whispered apologetically to the beast as she wrapped her arms around its thick neck. The elf looked deep into the emerald orbs of the creature and held her gaze for a moment before realizing they needed to move, and fast. Surely someone might have heard the ordeal and she did not wish to be around to find out if friend of foe had heard her. She made it to the rendezvous point in record time, to brief the agents of her sightings. She had the choice, to board the unmarked ship and sail back to Stormwind or stay behind and help the Alliance capture Lordaeron. She then chose to head back, thoroughly exhausted, this was a battle she just hadn't the strength to fight...





Rosinthel had answered the Kings call and had been busy with recon work in Darkshore throughout the week. Her tour was wrapping up and she was heading back towards Lor'danel when her giant tigress, Nuala, crouched low; signalling enemy arrival. As the Horde forces marched on to the ruined stronghold, Rosinthel mounted up and made haste to Teldrassil in attempt to warn the Kaldorei of the breach in line...

She had arrived too late, however. As soon as she passed through the Rut'theran portal into Darnassus, the whole tree shook as the horde trebuchets lobbed masses of oil soaked boulders, wrapped in flame at the trunk of the mighty tree; setting it aflame. She struggled to get who she could to safety, losing her beloved bow in the process, but trying nonetheless. She managed to get 72 Kaldorei civilians to safety before the smoke became too thick for her to operate in and she had to retreat to the safety of Stormwind via a mage portal.

When she returned to Stormwind and had a chance to process the days events with word that Sylvanas was the one to have ordered the crime, guilt had set in. Not only was she ashamed that a former Quel'dorei could commit the act, let alone order it; she had also been having void-touched visions and whispers of this atrocity for weeks prior. She had even attempted to tell a couple of people, but after seeing the reactions and dismissals she chose not to push the thought for fear of being stigmatized as "just another void-touched loon". After all, the void only speaks either in half truths or deceit...right?
advertisement
Password protected image
Password protected image
Password protected image