[Horde] Chapter Five: Session Fifteen

Appearing Characters: Arthak Saurfang, Azeroth, Bakaz (vision), Bru'kan, Ebonhorn, Gul'dan, Jale Rivermane, Lantresor, Lasan Skyhorn, Levia Blackflight, Mayla Highmountain, Nyxxa Murkthorn, Ora (vision), Rak'Symma, Rexxar, Sol'chi, Thisalee Crow, Thura Saurfang, Torok Bloodtotem, Velameestra Windrunner (vision), Volrath (vision), Zar'Kaa, Zekhan, Zuni (vision)

November 12th

A mournful but optimistic celebration of life had begun following the funeral of Ulan, and massive bonfires were lit alongside feast and drink so that people could enjoy the memories of those who were lost and who had come before them.

Arthak took the opportunity to get to know people and talk to the warriors and shamans of the various tauren tribes that were present. Zar’Kaa did try to dance a bit with the younger tauren, but largely also used the opportunity to talk to people, much like Arthak.

Lasan was in the heart of the partying, and Torok was in the middle of the drinking, but was a largely quiet drinker. Mayla was also celebrating and many young bulls were trying to make themselves aware to her as a form of support. Jale Rivermane remained fairly low-key as she was not young and could not stay up as late as she used to.

Nyxxa had ultimately remained on the outskirts and spent some time in the woods instead of being in the heart of the party.

Sol also was in the heart of the partying and, after getting permission from Ebonhorn, he created a magical light show to enhance the celebration.

Rak’Symma had caught Lasan’s eye and gave him a nod. Lasan greeted her with a wide smile, but before she could escape, she was dragged into the dancing with a gleeful cry of “Skyfriend!”.

He laughed as he twirled Symma around. Eventually, she was able to escape and perch a level above the celebrations to watch.

While Nyxxa was out in the forests, quietly playing a flute in a tree, she heard Levia.

Nyxxa looked down at her.

Levia fluttered up to the branch and offered Nyxxa drinking horn.

Nyxxa smiled.

Nyxxa ruffled Levia’s hair.

In a puff of smoke and magic, a big, fluffy, black tarantula crawled out of her sleeve.

Nyxxa held out her hand and the spider scurried over and then up on Nyxxa’s head. It began to spin a web between Nyxxa’s horns.

Nyxxa clenched her drinking horn and muttered that she could have seen that she was actually Vel, and she could restrain herself, but Levia continued to tease her.

It was clear Levia had nearly stumbled into talking about something more personal, and Nyxxa grinned as she picked up on it.

Nyxxa gave Levia a hug.

Nyxxa took a long swig of her drinking horn.

She looked at her hands, and Levia took one of them.

At that moment, Nyxxa heard someone else approach through the trees, and they spied Lantresor.

She handed her drinking horn to Levia.

She gathered up her familiar and took off into the air and Lantresor turned at the sound of flapping wings. He saw Nyxxa upon the tree.

She gestured in the direction Levia had flown off.

Nyxxa patted the tree next to her, and Lantresor hopped up next to her fairly easily to take a seat next to her.

Nyxxa blushed.

Lantresor smiled.

Nyxxa had started to tear up as Lantresor spoke.

Nyxxa covered her mouth, blushing deeply as she was crying.

She reached up a hand to get a better image of his face as she touched the edge of his cheek.

A hand cupped Nyxxa’s on his cheek.

He pressed his forehead against Nyxxa’s, and Nyxxa continued to cry openly. There was the most gentle, warm, and uncertain in a positive way look on Lantresor’s face, and he moved forward to kiss her and wrap his arms around her. Nyxxa looked up at him.

They continued to kiss, and they did not return to the party. Levia, meanwhile, as the party wound down, raised her drink in the direction of the trees and took a sip.

Sol raised his drink as well.

While the party had been ongoing, Arthak opted to approach Rak’Symma.

Rak’Symma nodded in agreement, but there was a degree of melancholy about her.

Symma had a degree of inquisitive alarm at the notion as she tilted her head.

She looked up past the mountains.

Rak’Symma asked what exactly brought the Horde to the Broken Isle, and Arthak gave her the entire story. Symma sat with a shell-shocked expression as she realized just how much had been happening outside the isle.

Zekhan had enjoyed the opportunity to learn more about the tauren culture and many of the young tauren drew him into dancing. Similarly, Thura had drawn a large amount of attention because of the presence of her boar. Before long, boar rides had started to be offered to the children. Rexxar was staying outside of the party largely.

Thisalee had gathered quieter groups of younger folk, and midway through the evening she had managed to help them construct lanterns for the widows and widowers and taught them one of the kaldorei traditions to construct lanterns in honor of the dead that could be sent up into the sky. Thisalee constructed one for her own parents and sent it up into the sky.

Zar’Kaa had approached Sol after the festivities. Zar’Kaa had his arm in a sling after he had reset his shoulder. Sol was working on ensuring all his things were in order before going to bed.

Zar’Kaa squinted.

Zar’Kaa showed Sol a few of the plans for the new kinds of potions he had been working on in his notebook. There were also notes in there about the Red Mist.

He created a humanoid shape with illusory magic that continued to shift between metal and crystal.

After Arthak had taken his leave of Symma, Ebonhorn came to find her.

Ebonborn furrowed his brow.

Ebonhorn came over and hugged Rak’Symma.

Symma nuzzled him before weakly pushing him away.

Rak’Symma opted to face plant into Ebonhorn’s fur and cried, as she was exhausted and overwhelmed. Ebonhorn put a big hand over her shoulders.

Symma started to laugh-sob into Ebonhorn’s chest, and she eventually started to pass out. Mayla had come to find Symma, but found her passed out on Ebonhorn, and she opted that whatever she had to say could be said tomorrow.

Ebonhorn lifted Symma up and took her somewhere safe to rest.

Zar’Kaa went to find Arthak, where he was sitting next to one of the last guttering fires.

Zar’Kaa grabbed a seat and scooched as close as he could manage to get to the fire.

Zar’Kaa nodded.

Zar’Kaa gave Arthak a skeptical look for a long moment.

Zar’Kaa smirked.

There was acceptance and calm clearly on Arthak’s face.

Zar’Kaa raised his eyebrow.

Zar’Kaa chuckled.

Arthak smiled fondly about Shaspira.

Zar’Kaa opted to sit for a bit with Arthak for a while of pleasant silence beside the fire. Arthak offered the cigar or his pipe, and Zar’Kaa refused, and then reminded him it’s better for him to shove the pipe up his ass than smoke it because of what it would do to his lungs.

As they sad in silence, watching the embers of the fire gutter out, Arthak’s mind retraced the events of the day, the week, the year, and his life. He closed his eyes in contemplation, and he felt himself drift. The warmth of the fire almost grew and pulsed with an ephemeral radiance.

The flames shifted in his mind’s eye into a brilliant star, its surface flickering with radiance golds and sky blues. From the star, he felt a cautious, tenuous warmth, almost like tendrils seeping out to touch the edges of his mind. It was almost vaguely familiar.

Arthak extended an invitation without expectation. The warmth washed over him, and it was curious, like a warm breeze trying to understand the rocks it washed across, or a tide seeking to know the current of the boat gliding across it. Arthak fully opened the door, and he felt a hesitance from the force, like the fear of a child hiding behind its parents leg. But then it grew closer, and larger, until he felt its warmth surge through him, and then enter him. It was warm, inviting, inquisitive, and fearful. It was deep, ancient, new, and young. It was sturdy as a mountain and brittle as a fallen twig.

It was a sense that belies understanding and sings with a radiant voice that does not use words. It wasn’t like telepathy or the song of the naaru, it was something deeper than that. It was if the words were being communed to his soul, a feeling that asked: “What’s your name?”

The warmth danced with the words, like fire burning a mark into the wood, and the sun’s rays glittering through an overcast day. Arthak felt his name in a way he had never felt it before, and himself in a way he had never felt himself before. He felt a comfort and an impression that reminded him of the warmest hearth on the Frostfire Ridges, and the laughter that Draaka would bring to a home, and Samuro trying to entertain a younger him with fire and steel. It reminded him of Dranosh and the support he had for him, and of the pillar he always represented. It reminded him of Remnii, of unconditional love. Of Sadras, of the joy and the sorrow the two of them found in their brief time. Of Shaspira. Arthak danced through the memories, and he felt the presence alongside him, seeking to understand Arthak.

The warm radiance resonated again: “Thank you.”

It was a thank you for many things. For being. For listening. For sharing. For protecting. It was an unconditional thanks, one for a thousand, and a single purpose, and it resounded with him like the thanks of a lost child after they had been reunited with their parents. But he also knew that the presence had no such thing, not in the way that Arthak would understand. It was not alone, but it was frightened.

Arthak thought about Azuka, and the gentle pressure of her forehead on his back. He offered the feeling of warmth, comfort, and security, and the radiant presence responded with uncertainty, but then acceptance, yearning, and profound loneliness. It replied with gratitude and safety, and tentative trust.

Arthak opened his eye, and he saw the ashes of the fire, and the chill of the wind. Zar’Kaa was still sitting beside him. Whatever that experience was, however, was something very real.

Arthak retreated to meditate on the experience, and the feeling he had was a strange notion of security one had when they knew their young one was soundly sleeping. Arthak continued to meditate using the lullaby.

Zar’Kaa eventually found rest, and he had a dream where he buried his hands in the earth seeking to fill his wounds. When he pulled them out, his hands were changed and covered in magic he recognized to be the fel. His pain was gone. The fire that licked over his claws healed his scars, but this time he wasn’t a child. He was exactly as he was.

He looked around and found himself in a desolate waste. He saw nothing but ruins far in the distance. The withered plants were starving for water.

There were tears on Zar’Kaa face, and he wiped them aside as he wandered toward the ruins. The stones were blackened and beaten by the winds and the sand. Forgotten. There were old bones that were blackened and almost indistinguishable from the rocks and the waste. He walked into a scene of emptiness, and he saw a figure in the rubble with their back to him. He was hunched and cowled. There were bone-like protrusions on his back, with skulls of unfamiliar creatures skewered upon them. In the figure’s hand was a gnarled staff adorned with bone and petrified wood.

There was an old raspy voice that spoke in orcish. The figure turned and Zar’Kaa saw an ancient orc with a long grey beard and a cowl that was draped partially over his face, draping his eyes in shadow.

Zar’Kaa moved his hands to his weapons.

Zar’Kaa looked around.

Gul’dan smiled.

Gul’dan bowed.

Zar’Kaa shrugged.

Zar’Kaa’s expression twitched.

Gul’dan waved his hand, and an image of Zuni appeared, speaking to another headhunter.

Volrath and Ora, the gunner, appeared. Volrath turned to face Ora.

Then Volrath and Arthak appeared.

Then Zuni and Vel appeared. Zuni was lounging with his hands behind back next to the vampyr.

Zar’Kaa looked stunned.

Gul’dan started to laugh.

Gul’dan gestured with his hand, and an orc appeared. He was hunched, broken, starving, and thirsty. It was an echo of an orc, but one that was unmistakably Gul’dan when he was younger.

Zar’Kaa stopped and considered, clenching and unclenching his fists. As he did, he felt the fel magic run through them. It felt like power, possibility, the ability to show the gods, the Darkspear, anyone, what he was truly capable of.

Gul’dan conjured another image, this one of Arthak again.

He then conjured an image of Levia with fire in her hands.

And then Vel appeared.

Then Volrath.

He reached for a blade before the image faded into Zuni.

Then Zekhan appeared.

Then there was the sound of a sword unsheathing behind him, and Arthak’s voice spoke.

Zar’Kaa turned around, and then saw Nyxxa.

Then the image shifted to Bru’kan.

And then Bakaz.

Zar’Kaa woke up in a cold sweat and immediately threw up off the side of the bedroll. He reached for his hunter’s knife and stabbed himself right in the thigh.

He kept the knife in his thigh until the tears stopped, and then pulled it free again. He looked at Bru’kan.

Bru’kan recoiled.

Zar’Kaa reached out for one of his solvents and wrapped a bandage around his thigh.

November 13th

The next day, everyone got up. Zar’Kaa was limping and quite disheveled as he left his place of rest, and had not even bothered to put his hair up. Nyxxa had returned from the woods and joined up with Sol and Levia.

Arthak went to find Ebonhorn, who greeted him for the morning.

Ebonhorn led Arthak to the chamber of the chieftains and went through a side chamber to a warm pool that he sat down next to. Arthak went through his own meditations again.

Arthak looked over in the direction of the crystal.

Ebonhorn nodded seriously.

Arthak turned his head toward the crystal.

Ebonhorn nodded.

Ebonhorn nodded.

Ebonhorn smiled. Arthak did not say anything back.

Ebonhorn nodded.

Ebonhorn smiled fondly. Arthak pulled out a piece of jerky and devoured it.

Ebonhorn put his hand on Arthak’s shoulder in a gesture of kinship.

This page was last edited on April 21, 2024, at 03:01 PM

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