Kindness And Mercy by Thrysta
Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2015 5:43 pm
The arrow took her in the back, near the blade of her left shoulder.
Thrysta heard the Cenarion Guards near her begin to shout, raising an alarm at the sudden outbreak of violence in their Zangarmarsh refuge. Some unslung huge curved axes, others drawing entangling throwing nets to begin dealing with the threat to their domain.
Hissing in pain, Thrysta gasped a prayer of renewal, her flesh mending and expelling the missile even as another thudded into her left hip, nearly knocking her from her feet. Whirling around, the sudden move causing her to wail in agony, Thrysta caught sight of her attacker.
Perched lithely atop of one of the vendor pavilions a short distance away, a young night elf woman cocked another arrow into her bow, drawing it back for her third shot. Her eyes locked with Thrysta’s own, her lips curled in a sneer as she loosed the nocked arrow at the diminutive Forsaken priestess.
Brought forth with a single focused word of power by Thrysta, a glowing shield of holy light enveloped her frail form, the night elf’s latest arrow deflected harmlessly away by it. Her eyes blazing as she stared at the elf, Thrysta uttered prayers of healing, her body infusing itself with mending energy, her wounds closing.
The night elf screamed in fury as she saw her quarry begin to recover, looking down at the ground around her as the Cenarion Guards closed in around the base of the pavilion she perched on. Spitting curses at them in her archaic tongue, she began desperately firing arrows at Thrysta in a stunning display of speed and accuracy, battering at the glowing shield surrounding the priestess. Prayers to summon her holy reservoirs of energy fell from Thrysta’s lips as the shield flickered and disappeared, overwhelmed by the barrage.
First one, then another, then a third of the night elf’s rapid missiles thudded into Thrysta’s breast, punching the breath from her ruined lungs just as she finished her prayer. Falling to her knees in agony, her eyes never leaving the now triumphant face of the she-elf, Thrysta did a curious thing.
She smiled.
Her prayer having been completed just before the impacts, Thrysta’s body began to glow, radiating holy light that flooded through her ruined husk in a sudden flash, the impaling arrows blasted out from her flesh as the wounds instantly closed.
Cocking her head coquettishly at the perched elf as she rose from her knees, Thrysta shook her head in a gesture of disapproval at the hunter…and pointed to the base of the pavilion. The elf hunter’s eyes followed Thrysta’s gesture down right as an enormous Tauren, one of the Cenarion Guards, slammed into the support beam of the flimsy structure. The pavilion collapsed like a house of cards, tearing out from under the night elf and spilling her to down to the ground in a wailing heap.
Within seconds, she was surrounded by Cenarion guards. Axes rose and fell as Thrysta walked toward the violent scrum, hearing the anguished hunter’s screams and the meaty impacts of the weapons on her flesh. The guards took no pleasure in their work, but the code of neutrality they enforced was set in stone. An example had to be made of those would violate the sanctity of their refuge.
As the screams of the elf faded into tortured gurgles the guards moved away, once again returning to their positions. They looked around to the other visitors scattered about the refuge, Alliance and Horde alike, making sure one and all took note of the example of the folly of violating their tenets that was lying in a bloody heap on the ground. One of them made a curt nod of apology to Thrysta, which she returned with a small curtsy of thanks.
The priestess moved slowly toward the twitching she-elf, kneeling softly at her side as the hunter gasped out her last breaths, her body rent and torn by the terrible weapons of the guards. She looked down into the tear-streaked, bloodstained face. The elf was young for one of her race.
“Oh child, that was so terribly ill-advised,” Thrysta murmured, stroking the fallen elf’s brow. The night elf tried to utter something in her own language between her last gasping sobs, but a wracking cough spoiled her words. Weakly, she reached up with a bloody hand, trying to clutch at Thrysta’s dark tabard.
Looking down, Thrysta’s attention turned to the tabard that the elf was fixated upon.
“The tabard of The Grim, child…this is what prompted your actions, did it not?” Thrysta murmured to herself. “This is what drove you to such behavior? Tsk tsk…” Thrysta admonished softly.
“My wounds are healed by the Light, child…you did no harm to me.” Thrysta whispered, smiling beatifically down at the dying hunter. “I will think of you fondly while I mend the holes in my raiment, elfling…I do so very much love to sew.”
One of Thrysta’s fingers stroked the night elf’s cheek, her long talon drawing a teardrop from the smooth, porcelain surface of the flesh.
Locking eyes with the elf, smiling comfortingly, Thrysta brought the talon to her own lips, tasting the salt of the night elf’s tear. Eyes widening in horror, the elf rattled out a last gurgling breath before the stillness of death claimed her.
“Oh my, I had forgotten how I savored them…”
“…now look what you have wrought upon me, child,” Thrysta softly said to the corpse, “You have reminded me of the past and made me quite melancholy.”
Shrugging in resignation, Thrysta rose to her feet.
“I serve the light now,” Thrysta continued softly, “and here you so callously remind me of the delights I once so very much enjoyed. But it is a day of great fortune for you, for my previous ways have been renounced fully…so I shall not harm you or punish you for such terrible behavior.”
Thrysta strolled away from the elf’s corpse, making her way to the nearby Cenarion Moonwell.
“Now, I must finish the preparation of my Mooncloth, child,” Thrysta called over her shoulder as she moved away, “Beware those you see wearing this tabard, young one…for so very few of them are as kind and merciful as I have been to you. Tell your kin of The Grim, child. Tell them of Thrysta’s kindness and mercy as well.”
As the diminutive priestess knelt at the Moonwell, humming softly to herself while working at her craft, the Cenarion Guards moved in to collect and remove the mangled corpse of the night elf. The movement catching her attention, Thrysta turned to them and smiled softly.
“It is so kind of you to help her. Those of us who serve the Light should always seek to assist others with kindness and mercy. It is the way of things.”
The guards stared at the Forsaken woman, the bloody corpse of the night elf hanging between them. Turning to look at each other, they glanced back at the quietly humming priestess, eyeing her warily before finally turning to begin disposing of their macabre burden.
Thrysta sighed softly as she returned to her work, for there was so much work to do, to spread the kindness and mercy of The Grim now that she had returned. It was very fine work, yet she did regret one thing about it.
It left so little time for sewing.
Thrysta heard the Cenarion Guards near her begin to shout, raising an alarm at the sudden outbreak of violence in their Zangarmarsh refuge. Some unslung huge curved axes, others drawing entangling throwing nets to begin dealing with the threat to their domain.
Hissing in pain, Thrysta gasped a prayer of renewal, her flesh mending and expelling the missile even as another thudded into her left hip, nearly knocking her from her feet. Whirling around, the sudden move causing her to wail in agony, Thrysta caught sight of her attacker.
Perched lithely atop of one of the vendor pavilions a short distance away, a young night elf woman cocked another arrow into her bow, drawing it back for her third shot. Her eyes locked with Thrysta’s own, her lips curled in a sneer as she loosed the nocked arrow at the diminutive Forsaken priestess.
Brought forth with a single focused word of power by Thrysta, a glowing shield of holy light enveloped her frail form, the night elf’s latest arrow deflected harmlessly away by it. Her eyes blazing as she stared at the elf, Thrysta uttered prayers of healing, her body infusing itself with mending energy, her wounds closing.
The night elf screamed in fury as she saw her quarry begin to recover, looking down at the ground around her as the Cenarion Guards closed in around the base of the pavilion she perched on. Spitting curses at them in her archaic tongue, she began desperately firing arrows at Thrysta in a stunning display of speed and accuracy, battering at the glowing shield surrounding the priestess. Prayers to summon her holy reservoirs of energy fell from Thrysta’s lips as the shield flickered and disappeared, overwhelmed by the barrage.
First one, then another, then a third of the night elf’s rapid missiles thudded into Thrysta’s breast, punching the breath from her ruined lungs just as she finished her prayer. Falling to her knees in agony, her eyes never leaving the now triumphant face of the she-elf, Thrysta did a curious thing.
She smiled.
Her prayer having been completed just before the impacts, Thrysta’s body began to glow, radiating holy light that flooded through her ruined husk in a sudden flash, the impaling arrows blasted out from her flesh as the wounds instantly closed.
Cocking her head coquettishly at the perched elf as she rose from her knees, Thrysta shook her head in a gesture of disapproval at the hunter…and pointed to the base of the pavilion. The elf hunter’s eyes followed Thrysta’s gesture down right as an enormous Tauren, one of the Cenarion Guards, slammed into the support beam of the flimsy structure. The pavilion collapsed like a house of cards, tearing out from under the night elf and spilling her to down to the ground in a wailing heap.
Within seconds, she was surrounded by Cenarion guards. Axes rose and fell as Thrysta walked toward the violent scrum, hearing the anguished hunter’s screams and the meaty impacts of the weapons on her flesh. The guards took no pleasure in their work, but the code of neutrality they enforced was set in stone. An example had to be made of those would violate the sanctity of their refuge.
As the screams of the elf faded into tortured gurgles the guards moved away, once again returning to their positions. They looked around to the other visitors scattered about the refuge, Alliance and Horde alike, making sure one and all took note of the example of the folly of violating their tenets that was lying in a bloody heap on the ground. One of them made a curt nod of apology to Thrysta, which she returned with a small curtsy of thanks.
The priestess moved slowly toward the twitching she-elf, kneeling softly at her side as the hunter gasped out her last breaths, her body rent and torn by the terrible weapons of the guards. She looked down into the tear-streaked, bloodstained face. The elf was young for one of her race.
“Oh child, that was so terribly ill-advised,” Thrysta murmured, stroking the fallen elf’s brow. The night elf tried to utter something in her own language between her last gasping sobs, but a wracking cough spoiled her words. Weakly, she reached up with a bloody hand, trying to clutch at Thrysta’s dark tabard.
Looking down, Thrysta’s attention turned to the tabard that the elf was fixated upon.
“The tabard of The Grim, child…this is what prompted your actions, did it not?” Thrysta murmured to herself. “This is what drove you to such behavior? Tsk tsk…” Thrysta admonished softly.
“My wounds are healed by the Light, child…you did no harm to me.” Thrysta whispered, smiling beatifically down at the dying hunter. “I will think of you fondly while I mend the holes in my raiment, elfling…I do so very much love to sew.”
One of Thrysta’s fingers stroked the night elf’s cheek, her long talon drawing a teardrop from the smooth, porcelain surface of the flesh.
Locking eyes with the elf, smiling comfortingly, Thrysta brought the talon to her own lips, tasting the salt of the night elf’s tear. Eyes widening in horror, the elf rattled out a last gurgling breath before the stillness of death claimed her.
“Oh my, I had forgotten how I savored them…”
“…now look what you have wrought upon me, child,” Thrysta softly said to the corpse, “You have reminded me of the past and made me quite melancholy.”
Shrugging in resignation, Thrysta rose to her feet.
“I serve the light now,” Thrysta continued softly, “and here you so callously remind me of the delights I once so very much enjoyed. But it is a day of great fortune for you, for my previous ways have been renounced fully…so I shall not harm you or punish you for such terrible behavior.”
Thrysta strolled away from the elf’s corpse, making her way to the nearby Cenarion Moonwell.
“Now, I must finish the preparation of my Mooncloth, child,” Thrysta called over her shoulder as she moved away, “Beware those you see wearing this tabard, young one…for so very few of them are as kind and merciful as I have been to you. Tell your kin of The Grim, child. Tell them of Thrysta’s kindness and mercy as well.”
As the diminutive priestess knelt at the Moonwell, humming softly to herself while working at her craft, the Cenarion Guards moved in to collect and remove the mangled corpse of the night elf. The movement catching her attention, Thrysta turned to them and smiled softly.
“It is so kind of you to help her. Those of us who serve the Light should always seek to assist others with kindness and mercy. It is the way of things.”
The guards stared at the Forsaken woman, the bloody corpse of the night elf hanging between them. Turning to look at each other, they glanced back at the quietly humming priestess, eyeing her warily before finally turning to begin disposing of their macabre burden.
Thrysta sighed softly as she returned to her work, for there was so much work to do, to spread the kindness and mercy of The Grim now that she had returned. It was very fine work, yet she did regret one thing about it.
It left so little time for sewing.