Syreena stood at a small, fresh grave just outside the herb garden. Ber, a worg runt she'd had since before the Dark Portal to Outland had opened, was recently killed by some beast in the snow just outside the Grim garrison. The word "ber" meant "bear" in wor sa fa chal, the language taught to her by her once best friend, Chavie. The Bear that was Ber's namesake was a druid named Ravovich. He was the little rogue's first mentor in group combat. The three of them, along with Lilly and Grolish, spent many, many hours together, battling in places like the Sunken Temple. So many Grims gone, their memory haunting her since the Nightmare. Some would return, or already have. Some never would.
Slowly, after finishing her silent goodbye to her longtime pet, she turned in the direction of splashing in the nearby water. A young hydra splashed there. "This one reminds me of you: many things which bite and an ill temper," Kex'ti had written in the note that accompanied the little beast. He also requested she not kill it out of spite and to take good care of it. Now she watched as the three heads fought over a fish it caught, snapping and hissing and spitting poison at each other, as if it didn't realize they were all part of the same body with a shared stomach. The little rogue sighed and motioned for the beast to follow her. The keeper at the menagerie refused to care for it because of its aggression with the other animals there. Syreena started back towards her little hut without waiting to see if it came with her or not.
A hut near the herb garden had been her home for nearly a year. Once it seemed cozy and safe. Now it just looked old and worn, like it had weathered too many cold storms. Bones, her undead horse, stood outside the hut with her most important belongings packed in his saddlebags. His bridle jingled as he shook his head and stomped his foot. The Shadowblade removed something from the pack and unwrapped it from the soft cloth protecting it. It was Mohan's scope. Shaelie had given it to her, for luck, along with a sincere note. The elf engineer had obviously tried to repair it, but the damage done to it was too much to fix fully. Syreena wrapped the cloth around it again and carefully replaced it in the saddlebags. She swung up onto her mount's back and steered him towards the Warspear portal.
One other set of memories had been haunting her since the Nightmare. Aleister. The drunken old gambling alchemist who raised her in life. He taught her how to pick herbs, brew potions, sneak, lie, steal, and lock picking. He also taught her the meaning of loss when he killed a kitten she brought home, and how to muffle her cries when she hurt lest he muffle them with a pillow over her head, how to shred her finger tips trying to escape a tiny locked closet, and how to deal with abandonment when he left her to die in a jail cell. She'd always planned to track him down and make him pay for how he'd treated her. She came close once, when she happened upon him in Shattrath, but he escaped her before she finished exacting her revenge. Since then, her Grim duties had kept her from hunting him down.
Now, however, she had no pressing Grim business to delay her any longer. She had no special assignment from the Commander; in fact, he seemed even more distant lately, if that were possible. Yemana had returned and had taken over her duties with the Earthshakers. The Tanaan Offensive would go on without her as well; between Anaie's team, Kex'ti's group, and Kerala's group, Syreena was confident the threats in the Hellfire Citadel would be eliminated by someone. All that remained was the issue of Vionora/Siane, but her hands were tied there; too many misled people protected that evil elf. There were no excuses left to keep her from her mission now.
From Warspear, she would go to Orgrimmar, then Outland. She last saw Aleister in Shattrath, so that's where she would start her search. She didn't leave a note. She'd already told enough people of her plans. Word would get around to who needed to know it.
Syreena rode through the portal out of the Grim garrison with the vicious young hydra waddling along behind her.
Revenge Overdue
Re: Revenge Overdue
Syreena had followed Aleister’s cold trail from Shattrath, to Booty Bay, to Gadgetzan. She was lucky, she knew, to have found him at all after so many years. She was surprised to have found him so soon.
After spending several days in Gadgetzan, spending most of her time in the tavern and other places that looked less than reputable, the little rogue heard a rumor about illegal cage matches taking place late on some nights. Syreena watched the cage from the shadows every night until, finally, it was fight night. Aleister and a group of equally unsavory men were drinking and shouting at the fighters in the cage.
Several of the men, including Aleister, had a girl with him. Their ages varied, but none were past their mid-twenties. They liked their little prizes to be young, Syreena thought as she watched from her spot in the shadows. The little rogue could guess, by the look in their eyes, how long ago each girl had been taken. The new ones’ gazes darted around—scared, hoping for someone to help them, watching for an opportunity to escape. The ones who have been captive longer had duller expressions. Most of those no longer entertained thoughts of escape. They had all tried it at least once. After that, they knew the consequences. Then every time after that when they were out in public, they must always weight the risks and rewards of each escape attempt they might try--until they gave up all hope.
Aleister’s girl was a human, maybe fifteen years old, with dark brown hair. She was too skinny and too dirty, but her full lips and thick lashes hinted at potential beauty if she were in a different environment. She still had watchful, darting eyes.
When the matches were finally over for the night, and there were no more bets to be placed, Aleister spoke to his girl. He motioned to the tavern, and then he turned and walked away. “Bring a bottle of whiskey home,” Syreena could imagine him slurring.
The girl looked at the tavern, then out at the open desert. Syreena knew she was weighing her chances of survival out among the basilisks and pirates, and deciding if it was worth the risk. After a moment’s contemplation, and with a great sigh, the girl started walking toward the tavern. Syreena followed.
Just before they reached the building, the rogue grabbed the girl and pulled her around the corner, spinning her to slam her back against the wall. She covered the human’s mouth with a gloved hand. The girl struggled, but Syreena held a dagger up with her other hand, and she became still. The little rogue stared into those wide, fearful eyes as she positioned her blade at the girl’s throat. Her fingers tightened on the blade’s handle but otherwise made no move to finish the job.
The little rogue found herself wondering about her. Who was she? Where was she from? Was her family looking for her, or did they give her away? Syreena had vague memories of a mother, sisters, a home, before she was ripped away from it all by a careless, drunken father. She slowly took one step back, carefully removing her hand and blade from the girl. The girl stared, confused, not confident enough to run just yet. Syreena pulled a small pouch of coins from her armor, and used it to point at the flight master. Then she tossed the pouch at the young human and vanished into the shadows.
Drunk as he was, Aleister didn’t get too far, and Syreena had no trouble catching up with him. She followed him to a rundown tent just outside the town’s wall. It was close enough to avoid long walks through the desert, but far enough away to avoid scrutiny from the goblin bruisers when his girl cried and screamed.
Syreena entered the tent after him. No guards heard him scream.
After spending several days in Gadgetzan, spending most of her time in the tavern and other places that looked less than reputable, the little rogue heard a rumor about illegal cage matches taking place late on some nights. Syreena watched the cage from the shadows every night until, finally, it was fight night. Aleister and a group of equally unsavory men were drinking and shouting at the fighters in the cage.
Several of the men, including Aleister, had a girl with him. Their ages varied, but none were past their mid-twenties. They liked their little prizes to be young, Syreena thought as she watched from her spot in the shadows. The little rogue could guess, by the look in their eyes, how long ago each girl had been taken. The new ones’ gazes darted around—scared, hoping for someone to help them, watching for an opportunity to escape. The ones who have been captive longer had duller expressions. Most of those no longer entertained thoughts of escape. They had all tried it at least once. After that, they knew the consequences. Then every time after that when they were out in public, they must always weight the risks and rewards of each escape attempt they might try--until they gave up all hope.
Aleister’s girl was a human, maybe fifteen years old, with dark brown hair. She was too skinny and too dirty, but her full lips and thick lashes hinted at potential beauty if she were in a different environment. She still had watchful, darting eyes.
When the matches were finally over for the night, and there were no more bets to be placed, Aleister spoke to his girl. He motioned to the tavern, and then he turned and walked away. “Bring a bottle of whiskey home,” Syreena could imagine him slurring.
The girl looked at the tavern, then out at the open desert. Syreena knew she was weighing her chances of survival out among the basilisks and pirates, and deciding if it was worth the risk. After a moment’s contemplation, and with a great sigh, the girl started walking toward the tavern. Syreena followed.
Just before they reached the building, the rogue grabbed the girl and pulled her around the corner, spinning her to slam her back against the wall. She covered the human’s mouth with a gloved hand. The girl struggled, but Syreena held a dagger up with her other hand, and she became still. The little rogue stared into those wide, fearful eyes as she positioned her blade at the girl’s throat. Her fingers tightened on the blade’s handle but otherwise made no move to finish the job.
The little rogue found herself wondering about her. Who was she? Where was she from? Was her family looking for her, or did they give her away? Syreena had vague memories of a mother, sisters, a home, before she was ripped away from it all by a careless, drunken father. She slowly took one step back, carefully removing her hand and blade from the girl. The girl stared, confused, not confident enough to run just yet. Syreena pulled a small pouch of coins from her armor, and used it to point at the flight master. Then she tossed the pouch at the young human and vanished into the shadows.
Drunk as he was, Aleister didn’t get too far, and Syreena had no trouble catching up with him. She followed him to a rundown tent just outside the town’s wall. It was close enough to avoid long walks through the desert, but far enough away to avoid scrutiny from the goblin bruisers when his girl cried and screamed.
Syreena entered the tent after him. No guards heard him scream.
Alts: Lirsha Deathwhistle & Ayidda
Re: Revenge Overdue
In a remote part of Tanaris, an eerie howling noise came from a winding cave in the rocks. Any rare passersby would probably assume it was the only the wind whistling through the tunnels. One unlucky explorer had thought he heard more than that though, and he entered the cave, ducking low under the rocky overhang. He never came out again. His body rested in a moderately sized cavern deep within the tunnel system, getting eaten by the three heads of a green hydra.
In that same cavern, a Forsaken man was secured with his arms stretched behind him and tied around a large rock. He sagged against his bindings, holding none of his weight on his own legs, which was likely because he no longer had legs. The leg bones were now splintered and chewed by the hydra. He also had no shirt, and what was left of his flesh was decorated with gouges and scorch marks. Several bottles from Stratholme lay scattered over the floor. They were empty now, but they were once filled with holy water.
“You’re not so tough now, are you?” Syreena asked the dead man. She was perched on a smaller boulder across from him, her glowing yellow eyes fixed intently on her captive.
“ARE YOU!” Syreena shouted when he didn’t answer. She hopped down off her rock and stomped over to him, her twin blades slashing through the air at his chest and stomach until the flesh hung from him in strips. Aleister begged and wriggled under this latest attack, but that only seemed to annoy the rogue further.
Syreena was tired of being in this cave with nothing but Aleister and her memories for company. She was tired of torturing him. She’d never enjoyed torture to begin with. A battle was fun, but hurting a tied up captive held no challenge, no thrill. She sighed with unnecessary breath. It was time to end this.
She grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. With her other hand, she slashed a dagger across his neck with such force that only his spine kept his head from rolling off. She stabbed at the spine, severing it, and Aleister’s head came off in her hand.
“Now what do to with you?” she asked him in a conversational tone. She held him up and looked at his face. His eyes were wide, and his jaw started moving as if to speak, but as soon as he opened his mouth wide enough, she stabbed her dagger in it, burying the blade in the soft tissue at the back. His jaw moved, but his teeth only clicked against the blade, unable to knock it loose.
“Shh,” Syreena soothed as she took his lower jaw in her hand. "You don't need to talk. You'll have no more girls to order around anymore."
The little rogue began humming to herself as she pried his jaw open further and further until his lower jaw broke off in her hand. She tossed it towards the hydra, whose three heads immediately began fighting over it. Then, still humming, she turned the head upside down and started hollowing out the skull with her dagger. Bits of brains and other gore were tossed to the hydra as she pulled them out.
In that same cavern, a Forsaken man was secured with his arms stretched behind him and tied around a large rock. He sagged against his bindings, holding none of his weight on his own legs, which was likely because he no longer had legs. The leg bones were now splintered and chewed by the hydra. He also had no shirt, and what was left of his flesh was decorated with gouges and scorch marks. Several bottles from Stratholme lay scattered over the floor. They were empty now, but they were once filled with holy water.
“You’re not so tough now, are you?” Syreena asked the dead man. She was perched on a smaller boulder across from him, her glowing yellow eyes fixed intently on her captive.
“ARE YOU!” Syreena shouted when he didn’t answer. She hopped down off her rock and stomped over to him, her twin blades slashing through the air at his chest and stomach until the flesh hung from him in strips. Aleister begged and wriggled under this latest attack, but that only seemed to annoy the rogue further.
Syreena was tired of being in this cave with nothing but Aleister and her memories for company. She was tired of torturing him. She’d never enjoyed torture to begin with. A battle was fun, but hurting a tied up captive held no challenge, no thrill. She sighed with unnecessary breath. It was time to end this.
She grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. With her other hand, she slashed a dagger across his neck with such force that only his spine kept his head from rolling off. She stabbed at the spine, severing it, and Aleister’s head came off in her hand.
“Now what do to with you?” she asked him in a conversational tone. She held him up and looked at his face. His eyes were wide, and his jaw started moving as if to speak, but as soon as he opened his mouth wide enough, she stabbed her dagger in it, burying the blade in the soft tissue at the back. His jaw moved, but his teeth only clicked against the blade, unable to knock it loose.
“Shh,” Syreena soothed as she took his lower jaw in her hand. "You don't need to talk. You'll have no more girls to order around anymore."
The little rogue began humming to herself as she pried his jaw open further and further until his lower jaw broke off in her hand. She tossed it towards the hydra, whose three heads immediately began fighting over it. Then, still humming, she turned the head upside down and started hollowing out the skull with her dagger. Bits of brains and other gore were tossed to the hydra as she pulled them out.
Alts: Lirsha Deathwhistle & Ayidda
Re: Revenge Overdue
((Okay, that made me twitch.))
Re: Revenge Overdue
[[ I love it. Sweet, sweet revenge. Also, my penis has retreated into a cave of its own making. ]]
Re: Revenge Overdue
((Good for her. He deserved it. Shouldn't treat little girls like that. Also yay you're back!))
