Around The Campfire by Ashagga

[Keeper Of Lore]

Yichimet,
You wanted to talk to me. I will wait for you among your people near the home of the pigs. Do not make me wait long.

Ashagga

The orc woman sat beside a campfire atop one of the many stone spires in Thousand Needles, within spitting distance of Grimtotem Rise. Omen, her massive, armored dire wolf, slept soundly at her side, while her as-yet-unnamed worg pup curled up in the larger wolf's fur. Ashagga sat, her eyepatch removed, staring at the fire with both her good, clear, blue eye and her gaping, scarred socket, watching the spirits dance around her flame.

Sul'thraze the Lasher lay bared across the rogue's knees.

[Keeper Of Lore]

by Yichimet

Yichimet stuffed the letter from Ashagga into a waistpouch as he dismounted the kodo Heavy Foot Heavy Breath. He had not been home in months. The Spines pointed skyward, great pikes reaching for the night sky. Yichimet imagined giant quillboar heads on them and smiled.

A small campfire burned hundreds of yards ahead. He lead his kodo by the reins, not bothering to be quiet. As he approached, he felt the swirl, saw the churning white fog of yelling, moaning, weeping, laughing Spirits, and stopped. Even for his sister, who pulled at the Spirit-world with her every step, their flowing attention was beyond strong. Yichimet sensed a bad omen. He looked to the night eye Mu'sha and muttered a prayer.

He walked on, leading the kodo, who quietly munched a patch of dry grass when Yichimet finally let go of the reins and sat down across from Ashagga. The fire burned between them.

"So, you have brought the great thorn," Yichimet said, nodding to the not-steel resting on Ashagga's knees. "You can feel them here, can't you?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

Ashagga looked up to the Tauren, her bright eye sparkling in the firelight. "I've brought them all. Can you hear them?" She tapped the side of her head with a gloved forefinger. "The Bringer. Sylvanus. Sul'thraze. Even Mannoroth, an inheritance from the blood my father consumed. They all war in my thoughts." There was no trace of the rogue's usually thick accent.

"They all see me as their link to the world. I've done so many foolish, impulsive things. I performed the ritual, and earned the Bringer. I poisoned my own womb, and welcomed Sylvanus. I leapt through the Dark Portal and earned Mannoroth's legacy."

Ashagga shook her head. "You warned me against recovering Warneshi's blade. I felt it calling to me, felt Warneshi's spirit. It guides me, from within the sword. It knew.

"Yichimet... Sul'thraze is the last piece of the puzzle. Don't you see? With the sword in my possession, I can keep the others all fighting each other. I can use it against them."

[Keeper Of Lore]

Yichimet watched Ashagga closely as she spoke. Her eye shone in the firelight, too brightly even for the fire pricking at the color there. Even in the scarred and empty socket something almost-light peered out. Her words came from her mouth a split-second before her lips moved. The air, thick with smoke--what kind of deadfall had Ashagga used to light the fire?--felt dense, more than air, more than smoke. He felt the Spirits dancing around the fire, around him and her, touching them with not-hands and licking them with not-tongues. Yichimet heard them whisper in a language he could not understand. His kodo snorted and stepped away from the circle slowly, eyes rolling in fear.

Ashagga finished speaking. Yichimet looked at her for seconds, thinking how to answer. Everything here was dangerous. Something was already pushing its way into her head through the sword, the great and deadly thorn of the Sandfury.

"My sister," he began. "You...I have always seen in you the hard edge of the stone cliff. You stand on the edge and you are ready to jump, always, to get what you want or need. Only each jump leads to another cliff."

Trying to calm himself, he pulled out his peacebloom pipe, packed it slowly and lit it with a burning twig from the fire. Ashagga watched him deliberately. He puffed and blew out the smoke, hoping to read a Sign in it, but the fire's own smoke belched up and ruined it.

"It is not for you, sister. This sword is not for you. If I could I would destroy it forever, but it cannot be. All the others--there are ways. We will find a way to get them out of your head. But this sword...we must take it back to where you found it."

He waited for the voice that was not Ashagga's. The Spirits were quiet for a moment before she spoke.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Ashagga shook her head, the smoke blurring her features. For an instant, something ELSE leered at Yichimet, something utterly alien and OTHER. It could have been an illusion from the fire. Maybe.

"The sword is mine, Yichimet. This is my destiny. Too often it has been wielded by those with world-shattering power and aspirations, warriors of Light or shadow. Now, finally, it is in the hands of one who will not use it."

A log in the fire snapped, sending up a shower of sparks. The flames brightened for an instant, and Yichimet could see the Tyrant standing behind Ashagga, his hands on her shoulders, whispering in her ear. He was gone as swiftly as he came.

"You cannot take the blade from me. You cannot destroy the blade. Warneshi would have, tried to. He returned it to the sands, but it will not stay buried. It is best in my hands."

Ashagga looked to the end of Sul'thraze, watched the small orbs of shadow as they spiraled 'round the sword's edge. "It is mine, Yichimet. You do not have the power to take it from me. But you do not need to fear. So long as you do not stand in my path, its fury will not touch you. There are many more who need to be slain."

Ashagga looked up to the shaman once more, the coal growing brighter in her not-eye. "You have been a brother, a father, a guide to me. I value your insight and your counsel. Work with me. Help me to use these influences to control one another. You, Lupen, Syreena, Chingaso... Chingaso and Syreena will help me easily. Would you set yourself against three of us? Would you face myself and the others?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

by Chingaso

Far away, in the depths of the Coilfang Reservoir, Chingaso fought naga.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, something deep in him stirred and his attention wandered...

"Chingaso!" Abric snapped. "Pay attention! Lay a trap here. We begin."

Chingaso roused from his unexplained reverie and followed orders. In his mind, he wondered what had just happened...

[Keeper Of Lore]

Yichimet caught the flash of the Tyrant standing behind Ashagga and held his face in a stone mask. He was dead, Yichimet knew, but someone of that line...

"I do not think you are right, but if I must stand against my friends to protect myself, I will do it. There are others who would fight with me."

Yichimet breathed deeply, closing his eyes that were once milky and were now almost brown again, almost normal. He felt the swirl of the elements around him, knew that if he needed he could call on the fire to rise up, to throw the sky's spark across the dry air, to bring what little water floated around to form ice crystals.

It was reassuring to feel, but before him was something he did not understand. Was the smell not from the wood? Whose voice was speaking? It sound almost familiar. It teased at his ears. The scent too was something he knew. A faint stink of other, of not-earth. A bad heart, he thought, not knowing why.

"No, you are not right. There is no Truth in your words. There is no Truth to you right now, Ashagga. I do not know who speaks from your mouth, but it is not you. I will dance around the fire with my words no longer."

Yichimet looked at the long, terrible sword still resting across Ashagga's knees. He did not think normally Ashagga would be able to wield it well--it was too big, and she had fought too long with much smaller blades. But still the whole earth was full of questions, like the dark clouds that get close and disappear again.

He began a prayer, speaking softly in Taurahe. "Earthmother, bountiful, two-eyed and eyeless, the kodo-call in the morning and the coyote's howl at night, keep your hands upon my head, keep me wise in my choices and strong in my will."

He tipped the burning peacebloom over the fire and waited for her action.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Ashagga watched him carefully, listening to the otherworldly whispers from a figure not quite there. Yichimet. He was her friend, her mentor. He was more father to her than anyone else had ever been. He was her elder brother, her sage, her guide. And yet, some things had to be done.

The orc stood, lifting the massive blade with ease.... ease, but not skill. It was rapidly slung into a makeshift scabbard on her back. If she was to fight, she would not fight with Sul'thraze. She spoke truly: it was not a weapon in her hands.

On the contrary. Sul'thraze made HER the weapon.

She drew the blades at her hips, one glowing with a frosty blue radiance that made the fire shrink and cringe away. Steam rose from the blade in the heat of the flame and the arid landscape.

"I would regret ending your life, Yichi. We were friends, once. You have always been there to watch over me, always desired to protect me, even from myself. If I end you this night, there will be no honor, no pride, and no glory in my deed. If I end you this night, I will always regret it, always wish there could have been another way."

She began to slowly circle the fire, dropping into a cautious crouch. "Before the first blow is struck, you can choose another path. If you will not stand with me, then at least do not stand against me. You will be spared. I owe you that much at least."

Between one word and the next, a flickering tongue of flame jumped between the pair, and when it receded, the orc was nowhere to be seen. The shadows were her home, and from them, she watched the Tauren. If he walked away, then he would live. If not, then Ashagga would spend the next week mourning.

[Keeper Of Lore]

by Muatah

*whoosh*.....

Like a star fallen to the ground, a small flare lit the sky and landed a few yards behind where Yichimet sat.

From the other side of the fire a wolf howled, and a mountain stepped out of the night. A seven-foot tall mountain, wrapped in leather and steel and holding a bow as long as it was tall. Arrow nocked taught and ready to fire.

Muatah scanned the darkness, his keen Hunters senses searching for the slightest hint of movement. He had fought Rogues thousands of times before, and knew what to look for... the changes even in air movements that gave away their presence when they thought they were hidden. At his side Wolf sniffed the night, alert for danger.

"It has happened just as we both knew it would, Seer." he said softly, a whisper. His eyes and ears never stopped their scan of the world around. "The Sword has brought it's Corruption into our ranks again."

With a quick, practiced move he placed a small trap at his feet, ensuring that nothing could come up behind him. Satisfied, he turned to the darkness, and this time when he spoke, his voice was not soft.

"ASHAGGA..."

The word echoed off the nearby rocks.

"You cannot fight me. We both know this."

Wolf snarled his willingness to test that theory.

"If you harm the Seer, I will Hunt you the length of Azeroth and Outland until your tired Spirit refuses to return to it's shell!"

[Keeper Of Lore]

When Ashagga slung the dark sword across her back and reached for her blades, Yichimet felt his heart like a stone in its cage. He knew the blades were coated in poison, and that he would not be able to heal his body through her attacks. And so he closed his eyes, listening. Mohan and Muatah had spent time teaching him what to listen for, what to smell on the wind. He was a shu'halo, one of the greatest hunters. The land was his, and his people had stalked its length for countless years.

His breath was tight as he heard something flying through the air at him. He jumped, ready to pull the fire to his defense, and nearly collapsed in relief as the Brave Muatah stole into the light of the fire, looking all around. The flare sizzled behind him as Muatah's yell bounced among the chasms of the Needles.

"You followed my trail this whole way?" Yichimet asked the tall Brave. Muatah nodded. They had spoken briefly in Shattrath but days before about the sword, and Ashagga, and preparing for the worst.

"She is not herself, Brave. Something has her. The Corruption, but it is different than when the Tyrant held it..." Yichimet tried to fit into words what he'd seen and heard: the old troll, young again, standing behind Ashagga and gone as fast; the faint stink in the air--demon!, he realized suddenly; the terrible weight to the air and the alien look on his sister's face when she spoke of ending his life. But for now, he remained silent, knowing Muatah understood only that everything in this ring of fire was dangerous, and that was all he needed to know.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Ashagga hung from the edge of the stone needle, her gloved fingers wedged tightly in crevasses in the rock, feet braced as well as she could manage. The moment the flare had sizzled into the air, she had hurled herself over the edge, her stomach leaping into her throat as, for an instant, she had been utterly weightless.

Muatah was the finest hunter in Azeroth. She could not hope to fight them both. She did not WANT to fight either of them.

Muatah was the finest hunter in Azeroth. Yichimet may well have been the finest shaman in all Azeroth. But Ashagga was a rogue. She was skilled not in starting conflicts, but in ending them... and avoiding them.

She did not wish to fight either of the two. She certainly did not wish to fight them both. As much as she wanted to continue talking to Yichimet, she could not be certain the hunter would not attack her on sight. Thus, she had two options: she could leave or she could surrender.

She carefully eased one hand from its position in the rock, wincing as her weight settled on her remaining hand and legs. She reached back over her shoulder, freeing Sul'thraze carefully, trying not to give away her position. Looking down, she saw the Thousand Needles hot springs, patrolled by vicious elementals. She nodded.

The Lasher was bound to her, until she died. No other could wield it, and she could feel it in her mind. Warneshi laughed at her plan, smiled and kissed her forehead, but she shook his influence away. She needed to stay clearheaded.

Ashagga released Sul'thraze.

She could not bear to watch as it fell down, down, down, more than a thousand feet. Instead, she hauled herself up over the lip of the ledge, rolling to a crouch before her Grim allies. Her hands were empty, and spread wide.

"I did not come to fight. I came to talk."

[Keeper Of Lore]

As Ashagga spread her hands wide, Yichimet reached into the Spirit ofthe fire and pulled a thread of it from the blaze, pushing it toAshagga's feet and forming a small, low-burning circle around her. Wolfgrowled, and Muatah's arrow was nocked tightly, one eye closed and hisaim placed straight on her heart.

Yichimet looked for the sword on her back, and wondered what trick shewas playing. She was a smart orc, but had never seemed to find theCoyote in herself. Yichimet's scared mind was trying hard to get ahoof-hold. Without the presence of the great thorn, the air releasedsome of its throbbing thickness.

"You have spoken already, thing that is not Ashagga," Yichimet said. His words were soft, enough for her to hear but no more. "I don't know what trick you play, but we will destroy the sword to keep us safe."

Yichimet peered into her eye and socket, looking for any change in the mind behind them. The light still nipped at his gaze from somewhere deep in her skull. He looked at her face for long seconds, remembering how she appeared hanging upside down, bleeding gore down her hair, dreamcatchers tied to her waist. He had not done enough to calm her insides, he knew that now. She took on too much of the world's hunt herself, and so was always seeking something more to help her. It was always the way: his friends would seek him for help, and he could not help them. He was a stone, unmoving, unhelpful for anything but rest and empty words. He left them all to fight for themselves.

His heart would crack if he could not save this one.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Ashagga flinched a bit as the flame circled her... but Yichimet did not strike at her, nor did Muatah's arrow fly. They were defensive, but willing to listen. The ember in Ashagga's not-eye grew a bit brighter. Good. That gave her a chance to avoid shedding Grim blood, hers or their own.

"Yichimet... look at me. I have changed. That much is obvious. And yet, if I were the monster you feared, would I have given you as much as I have? Would I have called you to meet with me? Given what you know of my skills and the demon influence the blade has shown, would I have given you this chance?

"You know better. Think, brother. If I were the monster you feared, one of us would already be dead. None has spoken out so strongly against my actions as you, and yet, none has ever been so willing to stand by my side through the midst of my foolishness... except perhaps Chingaso.

"I have spoken to them already, Yichimet. Chingaso, and Syreena, and Lupen. All had their worries, and yet, I have convinced them all that I am still myself. I have changed, as we all change, but change is not inherently bad. You know, shaman, how change is vital. Without it, we stagnate and die. And yet, Chingaso, who knows me better than any living or undead being, trusts me. Syreena, innocent and caring, yet with experience with both Warneshi and Sul'thraze, trusts me. Lupen... well, he does not TRUST me, but he does not trust anyone. But he believes me."

Ashagga sighed and moved from a crouch into a kneeling position, arms still spread wide in the circle of fire, flame almost licking at her fingertips. "Muatah, you are the finest hunter in all of Azeroth. Yichimet, you are wise beyond your not-inconsiderable experience. I know two things: I will not kill either of you for my life, and I will not surrender Sul'thraze. Therefore, if you truly believe me beyond redemption, if you feel I am so corrupted by this, the latest in a long series of influences, that I cannot be further trusted, then end me now."

Ashagga lowered her head, her hair falling around her face to bare her neck. "I demand, however, that if you decide I am a threat, that you, Yichimet, slay me. Muatah, I respect your judgment, but if I am to be sentenced to death, if I am to be executed, then I demand my murderer be the one who has passed sentence on me already."

[Keeper Of Lore]

Muatah did not move. The arrow stayed pointed. The fire stayed where it was, wide enough not to nip Ashagga when the wind blowed strong, but tight enough to keep her reined to the circle.

Yichimet stared at her for a moment.

"We will see. Brave, tie her up." He handed rawhide string to Muatah as the fire around the orc died down. Yichimet reached for his hearthstone, searching for the breath of Syreena, Chingaso and Lupen over the air.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Chingaso pause. Noise in Mechanar deafen, but Chingaso sense as much as hear familiar resonate from stone. Yichimet call. Which probable mean Shaggy in some sort trouble. Chingaso signal to Anaie for pause and pull stone from bag of Netherweave craft by Deathshadow.

"Yichimet require Chingaso? Chingaso sort of occupy at moment..."