She awoke in the most unlikely of places, confused by her surroundings. It was dark, near pitch black, but the scent of rancid filth, rotted flesh and tainted blood enveloped her so fully that it took some serious concentration to keep from vomiting. She was restrained in chains in the worst possible manner: she was forced on her knees, her arms bound behind her and connected to the floor between her hooves, while her neck sported a massive iron collar similarly connected to the floor but in front of her. There was no give, no room to move, and the last thing she could recall was a Dark Ranger informing her that Sylvanas wanted to speak with her.
The rusty squeal that echoed in the darkness caught her attention, lanterns illuminating her surroundings, and as she strained to look she could see other prisoners huddling, some crying further down into the darkness, pleading in a language she didn't understand. She looked back at the few lanterns making their way along the cells until they stopped in front of hers. Her cell door squealed even louder as they opened it and invited themselves in. She jerked at her chains, lips pulled back in a snarl as the same Dark Ranger entered, accompanied by an Abomination. Before she could utter a syllable, the Ranger backhanded her hard enough to split her lower lip, forcing her partially sideways with enough force to nearly dislocate her arm. She was brutally hauled upright again by her mane by the Abomination as the Ranger crouched before her.
“My Lady wants information. Speak truthfully and you will go free. Lie...” she rasped, chuckling coldly. “... and you will be begging for death. Now then, tell me where your loyalties lie.”
Neevah frowned with confusion. “My loyalties lie with the Grim.” The Abomination backed off, and she rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the ache that stretched up to her head.
The Dark Ranger smiled. “Good. But where does the Grim's loyalties lie?”
“The Mandate,” Neevah replied without hesitation. She watched as the smile turned to a smirk, and felt the barbed chains lash down her back between her arms, letting out a clipped cry before clamping her mouth shut, green eyes now glaring at the Ranger. So that explained the grotesque creation's reason for being there.
“What is the Mandate?” The Ranger cocked her head to the side.
“Peace through Annihilation,” Neevah replied through clenched teeth.
“Interesting. Not so dissimilar from My Lady's goals. We found the abandoned remains of the Grim's halls, and it seems you have quite the collection of knowledge, judging from the massive vault and endless book and scroll shelving. Where is that collection now?”
Neevah's angry look turned to an evil smirk. “Wouldn't you like to know?” Even as the angered Ranger punched her, and the barbed chain lashed down her back, she saw what her future was going to be. From there she spoke no longer, even as her tabard was ripped from her chest. She knew then she would die here, but it would still be in the name of the Mandate.
Days. Weeks. Months?
How many moons had passed since she first woke here? She'd lost count. After a while, they stopped questioning her, resorting to beating her fairly frequently, especially as a lesson to others. She'd been released from the chains some time back, and she'd held on tight to the now scrap of tabard she'd once worn with pride. She'd been stripped of her armor- it didn't fit her anymore anyway. She'd lost so much weight, and it weakened her to the point that she could barely find the strength to sit up, much less move. She lay there, waiting for the next beating, or the next morsel of food, whichever they deigned her with today.
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
Well, that was new. Her ear flicked, the thumping growing louder and louder. It was hard to hear anything down there, but that, that resonated throughout the dungeon. The dungeon door opened, and she struggled to her hooves as someone rushed through, opening all of the cell doors, including her own. Their liberator was soon gone, and those who were still strong enough began to leave as quick as their injuries would allow. She stuffed the bit of tabard into what little scraps of clothing she wore, and with the last reserves of energy, she dropped into cat form. The influx of new smells was almost overwhelming, but she found what she was looking for- a meal. There were Gnomes a few cells down, freshly stripped, freshly beaten, and she all but gorged herself on them. With renewed vigor she tracked down where her gear had been stored, and with a brief transform back to Tauren to re-equip herself, she returned to cat to begin making her way home, before whatever was going on could stop her.
The stories and lives of the Grim. ((Roleplaying Stories and In Character Interactions))