Grim Views

“Ooooh,” Ashagga moaned softly, her eyes closing. “Oh, Light, that feels good.”

The Blood Elf woman looked up, her green eyes sparkling beneath her flowing golden tresses, and smiled. “Is it too hard?”

“Oh, no…” Ashagga grimaced slightly, arching her back. “I like it ‘ard.”

The Blood Elf grinned and resumed the slow, deep massage, slender fingers pressing and kneading the taut muscles in Ashagga’s back. Ashagga shifted slightly, keeping the linen towel draped over her hips, while her pale masseuse stood beside the padded table, stroking away the tensions of another day in the Outland.

For a long time, Ashagga had avoided Silvermoon City, afraid of its inhabitants and her visions from the Bringer. Until recently, she had even avoided those Blood Elves that had joined the Grim, as if avoiding them could keep the visions from happening.

That was before Hellfire Citadel. She’d entered that hellish place multiple times, often with a Grim Blood Elf at her side. Tirralys had aided her in her fight against the dragon on the Ramparts, and Krinathalasa had worked with her and Chingaso to cleanse the Blood Furnace of its fiendish masters.

Ashagga had found her trust growing for the Grim Elves, and though she still felt reservations, they seemed more and more ridiculous. Finally, at the urging of some of her connections in the Shadow Cleft, Ashagga scheduled a visit to Silvermoon City.

The Blood Elf capital was stunning. Gorgeous, sweeping vistas met the eye at every turn. Enchanted guardians and finely armored Spellbreakers wandered the streets, keeping the peace. Everything was more convenient, and the city actually had TWO Auction Houses! Ashagga had immediately set about making contacts.

Not only had the orc found a thriving underworld with black market goods banned from Orgrimmar and Thunder Bluff, she’d also found a hedonistic side to the already indulgent society, where Blood Elves (and anyone with the right coin) could enjoy themselves without fear of reprisal. All manner of entertainments could be found, from dances and theatrical performances to recreational substances and fine companionship. No desire was too extreme.

Here, Ashagga could lose herself. She’d spent too much time in the Outlands, of late. She was a warrior, a soldier in the armies of both the Horde and the Grim, but she’d grown tired of killing for a time. Also, she felt anonymous here. Whoever was watching her would have a hard time keeping track of her movements through the seedy underbelly of the city, especially when she occasionally hearthed back to Shattrath City. Her movements were erratic, which gave her the chance to occasionally relax.

She took a long pull from the hookah at her side, and let the chemical burn through her body, let it alter her consciousness. Between the alcohol, the drug, and the massage, her mind began to drift.

The moment her eyes closed, Ashagga found herself in an eerie, gray place, where wastelands stretched on as far as the eye could see. There was light, but no sun, as though the very air itself were slightly luminescent. In the sky, a bleak maelstrom raged, a yawing void that seemed always directly above her. Ashagga recognized this place.

This was where spirits went before they died.

She had been here before, always on the cusp of death. Always, she had felt that it was not her time, that she was not done living. And yet, every time, it became harder and harder to resist the pull of the maelstrom above. Her spirit grew a little weaker with every near-death experience. She didn't know how many more times she could resist this place.

And yet, this time, she did not feel the pull. She also did not feel half-alive, or that she had to find her body and wake herself. She was relaxed, almost floating.

She blinked, and Yichimet stood in front of her. She was not startled. Such was the nature of this place.

"Who are you, Ashagga?"

"I's me..." She frowned. "What d'yer mean? Yer know me."

Yichimet was no longer Yichimet, but Lupen. "Do we? Do you know who you are?"

"Of course!" Ashagga was less certain.

Syreena stood in Lupen's place, her worg pup at her side. "You will find yourself. What will you lose when you do?"

Ashagga shook her head. "I don' know."

Chingaso nodded. "You have a long journey ahead of you. And yet, your journey nears its end."

"What d'yer mean? Chingaso?"

The shadowy Forsaken warlock laughed. "We're not here, Ashagga. This is your mind."

Ashagga shook her head again. "I don' unnerstand..."

The Bringer stood before her, a bloody elemental, pulsing with rage and hate. "Your time in Azeroth nears its end, Ashagga. The End is coming."

Ashagga drew her weapons, but instead of knives, she wielded a whip and a bouquet. "Wha...?"

Her parents smiled at her. "Wake up, Ashagga. Wake up."

"I's... this is a dream?"

Abric smirked, bloody eyeball in hand. "No. But you have to wake up anyway." He shoved her backward, and she fell, fell forever, screaming.

With a start, she woke.

Ashagga woke with a start on the table, and the masseuse pulled back a bit. She laid a hand on Ashagga's back, leaning closer. "Are you all right?"

Ashagga swallowed, trying to calm her breathing. Another dream. It had been a long time since she'd had one. She didn't want them anymore! She closed her eyes tightly. No... no, it hadn't been one of THOSE dreams. It couldn't have been. It was just a drug-induced vision. Ashagga pushed the hookah away.

The masseuse asked again. "Are you all right?"

Ashagga rolled over onto her back, looking up at the blood elf woman. She was attractive, in a slender, fragile way. Ashagga took her hand in her own.

"Jus'... a little jumpy."

The elf smiled, her eyes half-lidded. "You need to relax." She leaned in, whispering into Ashagga's ear, lips so close they brushed the orc's skin. "And I know just how to help."

When the elf's lips closed on the orc's, Ashagga did not resist. Relaxation... that was why she had come here. When the elf's dress slid to the floor, Ashagga stopped worrying about the dream.