Chaindog: A Dream Dashed
Chaindog, August 23, 2006
“Markhor, something is wrong.” the expectant mother says. “You
have to get her. I’ll meet you at the ruins. I am sure I can make
it.”
Huntsman Markhor grimaces at her. “Do you think that is wise? You
know how your mother can be. She won’t take this lightly.”
“I know, but both of us may not survive the night. You’re the
only one that I trust to do this.”
“Very well, I will get her. But you must get to the ruins. If
Primal Torntusk finds out, there’ll be hell to pay.” Markhor says
as he mounts up on his black raptor and runs off into the night.
The mother to be makes it upright and heads to the ruins. The
journey is arduous and painful. But after a few hours she
arrives.
The Vilebranch troll at the entrance looks at her with contempt
and moves to shoo her off. “Yous not allowed ‘ere anymore. You
made yous choice!” he says with disdain making a jabbing motion
with his spear. He suddenly stops when he notices her standing up
right and her stomach protruding outward.
“Cousin, something is wrong, my mother is coming to help, you
must let me in.” she says in pain.
The Vilebranch troll ignores all of it but for the words ‘my
mother is coming’ and his eyes go wide. “Yous mudder? ‘Ere?? Oh
no! I must wake the others.” He turns and into the ruins to wake
the others. “Wake up!! She comes!!” he screams into the night.
The mother to be finds a soft spot of grass under the stars and
lies down. The pain becomes increasingly more apparent and the
trolls around begin to shy away from her moans of pain and agony.
Her wait is not long as her mother arrives followed by Huntsman
Markhor. The Vilebranch trolls all bow and back away from her. A
few glare at Huntsman Markhor but none make a move towards him.
Her mother leans down and looks at her child. With an exasperated
gesture of a hand and her voice, “Now what is this proble-??” She
kneels down and looks more closely at her daughter. A sudden
intake of breath and she closes her eyes. She casts a soft
glowing spell and then her eyes snap open. She looks down at her
daughter and lets out a resigned shy of sadness and a face of
determination sets in. “You stupid girl, you defy my wishes, and
then you really defy then. What did you think you were trying to
do?”
Her daughter looks up and says meekly, “To end the war, what
else? I knew the marriage would work, I had intended to return to
you, but I didn’t expect to fall in love with him. I’m sorry.”
“Oh you’ll be sorry alright. You’ll be lucky if you don’t die
from this.” her mother says with love from a voice the rarely
shows any love.
She turns to the Markhor, “We have work to do Revantusk. Let’s be
about it.” The night carries on with screams of pain, and agony.
The sun barely starts to crest the eastern coastline as the child
is born. “The child is strong and healthy. You weathered this
well my daughter.” She looks down and sees the stillness of her
daughter’s body. “Oh my.” she says quietly. She bows her head in
prayer. She then stands and looks to Huntsman Markor. “It seems
you are alone and this deed is done.” She looks to her tribe and
says, “Kill him.” The Vilebranch trolls ready weapons and move in
on Markhor.
“How about we don’t” says a new voice. The cloaked figure steps
forward and removes her cloak.
Markhor takes a sudden grasp, “Primal Torntusk!”
“I’m surprised at you lover. I never figured you for this kind of
deception. But when you weren’t in bed when I wanted some loving,
I went looking for you. Then to find that Hexx’s daughter is
missing as well,” she says while pointing at the new grandmother,
“I knew something was up.”
Huntsman Markhor says, "You knew about her being Hexx's
daughter?"
"I lead the Revantusk, it is my right to know what is going on."
Vile Priestess Hexx stands up, cradling the child, and says, “I
never approved of my daughter’s choice of a mate. Zul’jin was a
fool. He always was and always will be.” She pauses for a moment
to regard her dead daughter lying upon the grass. “This child is
my daughter’s dream of something that I don’t think will be.
While I can’t bring myself to kill it, I don’t want it either.
But as a maternal mother it is my right to name this child. Like
the Revantusk’s chained servitude to Warchief Thrall, I too name
this child Chaindog like your tribe of chained dogs to your
master. Now take it and be gone.”
Primal Torntusk says with scorn in her voice, “We aren’t chained
dogs. We choose to be with Thrall.” She says more calmly, “As is
the right of all trolls, I accept this name for the child and I
will raise it as my own.” She takes the child and turns to leave.
“Come along Markhor. You’ve been a part of this from the
beginning, and you’ll be apart of it to the end now.”