Hallow’s End is almost upon us. How does your character view this holiday? Are they going around to collect candy? Do they volunteer at an orphanage? Do they host or go to a party, wear costumes, or put up decorations? Do they leave out a bowl of candy? What do they do with the candy/treats afterwards?
And/Or
Are they pranksters of the night? Do they participate in the annual stink bombing of the opposite faction? Do they play tricks on friends and/or strangers?
And/Or
Is this a melancholic holiday for them? Did they use to celebrate with a now dead/disowned/lost child/sibling/family member/friend? Are they out fighting their opposite faction with no ability to enjoy the season? Do they not care about the holiday for whatever their reasons are?
-----
This is meant to be a fun exercise, so there aren’t many rules. I ask that posts be limited to two or three, as much longer is more like a short tale probably befitting it’s own thread.
Prompts are fun little things meant to inspire. You don’t have to perfect match the prompt. Just let it inspire a thought.
I’m going to try and post these weekly, sometime between Saturday and Monday probably. Feedback and prompt ideas are welcome, so feel free to post them in here as well. Some prompts will be more thought provoking, some more whimsical. Respect your fellow writers.
Etzul sighed as Tinkahra bounced around the manor. They were due to leave in an hour for one of the high house’s annual Hallow’s End ball, and the demon huntress was hardly ready. She had been out already, dressed as a princess of titans knows what, and collected a decent haul of candy. Etzul had told her to leave the candy so they could get ready, but of course Tinkahra had gotten into it.
“I do love this holiday.” Tinkahra cheerfully quipped as she rounded the corner. She stopped cold in her tracks as she saw Etzul glaring at her.
“Get. Dressed. Now.” Etzul snapped.
“Now? But I still have-”
“NOW!” Etzul bellowed.
Tinkahra cackled and darted off towards the grand staircase. Etzul watched her go and listened for the demon huntress to shut her room door. Satisfied, Etzul made her way towards her own room. She paused at Tinkahra’s door and locked it. The huntress’s bowl of candy was downstairs still. This way she would focus on dressing. She heard the demon huntress pout, and knew Tinkahra was aware she was now locked in her room. With a smirk, Etzul made her way into her own room.
The ball was a costume masquerade. The who’s who of Silvermoon was slated to be there, despite the overhanging shadows of the war and the void elf betrayals. Etzul had spent months planning their costumes of elegance and beauty, as well as a pseudo disguise for Tinkahra. It took her almost the full hour to get ready.
When Etzul emerged from her room, she was wearing a long, figure hugging black sequin gown. There was a lace, cape like piece to the back of it with what looked like elegant spider legs sewn in. The lace cape hooked around Etzul’s middle finger on each hand, so the legs could be seen. Across her eyes was a sequin mask, with six white sequin spots for eyes. Her bronze curly hair was pulled back into two long braids and her lips were colored black.
Etzul unlocked Tinkahra’s door. Tinkahra stepped out with a sigh. She was wearing a long sleeved green gown that shimmered like dragon scales. It had a belt around Tinkahra’s midriff that hung loose in the back like a tail. It also had a cape, unattached from Tinkahra’s hands, with a dragon wing pattern on it. Her face had a similar green mask with a dragon scale like pattern. It went around her ears to encase them in hallow dragon horns, with only a small window for sound to pass through. She felt almost deaf with them on. Tinkahra left her hair down and wore no makeup at all.
“The horns are redundant.” Tinkahra grumbled, her mood soured by her entrapment.
“Hush, they help hide that you are a kaldorei.”
“But I’m not either elf.”
“Yeah, but you look like a kaldorei and can’t change it.”
“I find this outfit offensive.”
“Titan’s above, Tinkahra. Would you rather it be black or gold? I thought green was your favorite color!”
“Will there be candy at this place?”
Etzul sighed, grateful for the sudden shift but still annoyed. “Yes, yes. It is a Hallow’s End celebration. There will be candies and sweets.”
Tinkahra thought for a moment. “Okay, fine. I guess it won't be so bad.”
The pair left the manor for a pumpkin shaped carriage. The driver was dressed in a suit with a white mask covering half of his face. He spoke nothing as the pair of women got in to be chauffeured to the ball.
“I do love this holiday.” Tinkahra cheerfully quipped as she rounded the corner. She stopped cold in her tracks as she saw Etzul glaring at her.
“Get. Dressed. Now.” Etzul snapped.
“Now? But I still have-”
“NOW!” Etzul bellowed.
Tinkahra cackled and darted off towards the grand staircase. Etzul watched her go and listened for the demon huntress to shut her room door. Satisfied, Etzul made her way towards her own room. She paused at Tinkahra’s door and locked it. The huntress’s bowl of candy was downstairs still. This way she would focus on dressing. She heard the demon huntress pout, and knew Tinkahra was aware she was now locked in her room. With a smirk, Etzul made her way into her own room.
The ball was a costume masquerade. The who’s who of Silvermoon was slated to be there, despite the overhanging shadows of the war and the void elf betrayals. Etzul had spent months planning their costumes of elegance and beauty, as well as a pseudo disguise for Tinkahra. It took her almost the full hour to get ready.
When Etzul emerged from her room, she was wearing a long, figure hugging black sequin gown. There was a lace, cape like piece to the back of it with what looked like elegant spider legs sewn in. The lace cape hooked around Etzul’s middle finger on each hand, so the legs could be seen. Across her eyes was a sequin mask, with six white sequin spots for eyes. Her bronze curly hair was pulled back into two long braids and her lips were colored black.
Etzul unlocked Tinkahra’s door. Tinkahra stepped out with a sigh. She was wearing a long sleeved green gown that shimmered like dragon scales. It had a belt around Tinkahra’s midriff that hung loose in the back like a tail. It also had a cape, unattached from Tinkahra’s hands, with a dragon wing pattern on it. Her face had a similar green mask with a dragon scale like pattern. It went around her ears to encase them in hallow dragon horns, with only a small window for sound to pass through. She felt almost deaf with them on. Tinkahra left her hair down and wore no makeup at all.
“The horns are redundant.” Tinkahra grumbled, her mood soured by her entrapment.
“Hush, they help hide that you are a kaldorei.”
“But I’m not either elf.”
“Yeah, but you look like a kaldorei and can’t change it.”
“I find this outfit offensive.”
“Titan’s above, Tinkahra. Would you rather it be black or gold? I thought green was your favorite color!”
“Will there be candy at this place?”
Etzul sighed, grateful for the sudden shift but still annoyed. “Yes, yes. It is a Hallow’s End celebration. There will be candies and sweets.”
Tinkahra thought for a moment. “Okay, fine. I guess it won't be so bad.”
The pair left the manor for a pumpkin shaped carriage. The driver was dressed in a suit with a white mask covering half of his face. He spoke nothing as the pair of women got in to be chauffeured to the ball.
"Are you ready?" Asana asked as she peered out from her shadowy hiding spot behind the trees. She glanced down the neighborhood streets of Goldshire and saw the festivities of Hallow's End in full force. Every house had at least several jack-o-lanterns ominously glowing in the darkness of the night. An unusual number of crows were perched on the rooftops looking to pick off any dropped food.
She saw dozens of children in full costumes of a vast assortment of creatures running and screaming among themselves. Most of the adults were dressed as well. Some were escorting the kids and others, she presumed, were headed to meet friends or to darker corners for other types of treats.
"I...I think so..." responded a small quiet voice behind her. Asana glanced at the young pandaren girl and smiled. Her costume was quite frankly adorable. Lin wore a hooded red cloak concealing her normal clothing and a paper mask over her face that had the image of a malevolent cackling witch. It didn't at all match her cute voice.
"Don't be nervous! You'll be fine, just do as I told you," she said reassuringly.
Lin seemed unconvinced. Her small hands were clutching her bucket in a shaky grip. She peered out around the bushes at the bustling activity. "And those are...normal people right? Not scary ones or monsters?"
Asana chuckled in enjoyment, she had to keep reminding herself that Lin had never seen a Hallow's End before. It was amazing that Lin even managed to come here, she was usually so shy around people. But Asana had mentioned stories about the holiday while visiting her village and somehow days later the pair of them ended up here.
"No, no they aren't. It's all fake, just like your costume. And if any scary people do show up then I'll take care of them!" She flexed her arm jokingly. An understatement to the unfortunate fate that would befall anyone who actually tried to harm them.
"This is so weird though! I mean it's cool...and scary, but weird! Why do you celebrate like this?" Lin asked curiously. It wasn't the first time she had asked it.
She shrugged. "I have a vague idea of the history behind it, but I don't know much. This holiday has been here a lot longer than I have. Are you going to keep asking questions or do you want candy? Hop to it!"
She forcefully gave Lin a nudge out of the bushes. For a few seconds the little girl didn't move then ran forward to the first house with her head kept down. Every time a costumed person came close to her she flinched so hard it was almost too sad to watch. Almost. In her opinion, this was just too amusing to not watch.
Hallow's End was always such an interesting holiday to her. On one hand, she enjoyed the festivities and the overall nature of it. But on the other she had actually encountered many of the real versions of the "monsters" told in the stories. So it was a little surreal seeing the young trick-or-treaters go about it with merriment and disregarding fact from fiction.
(1/2)
She saw dozens of children in full costumes of a vast assortment of creatures running and screaming among themselves. Most of the adults were dressed as well. Some were escorting the kids and others, she presumed, were headed to meet friends or to darker corners for other types of treats.
"I...I think so..." responded a small quiet voice behind her. Asana glanced at the young pandaren girl and smiled. Her costume was quite frankly adorable. Lin wore a hooded red cloak concealing her normal clothing and a paper mask over her face that had the image of a malevolent cackling witch. It didn't at all match her cute voice.
"Don't be nervous! You'll be fine, just do as I told you," she said reassuringly.
Lin seemed unconvinced. Her small hands were clutching her bucket in a shaky grip. She peered out around the bushes at the bustling activity. "And those are...normal people right? Not scary ones or monsters?"
Asana chuckled in enjoyment, she had to keep reminding herself that Lin had never seen a Hallow's End before. It was amazing that Lin even managed to come here, she was usually so shy around people. But Asana had mentioned stories about the holiday while visiting her village and somehow days later the pair of them ended up here.
"No, no they aren't. It's all fake, just like your costume. And if any scary people do show up then I'll take care of them!" She flexed her arm jokingly. An understatement to the unfortunate fate that would befall anyone who actually tried to harm them.
"This is so weird though! I mean it's cool...and scary, but weird! Why do you celebrate like this?" Lin asked curiously. It wasn't the first time she had asked it.
She shrugged. "I have a vague idea of the history behind it, but I don't know much. This holiday has been here a lot longer than I have. Are you going to keep asking questions or do you want candy? Hop to it!"
She forcefully gave Lin a nudge out of the bushes. For a few seconds the little girl didn't move then ran forward to the first house with her head kept down. Every time a costumed person came close to her she flinched so hard it was almost too sad to watch. Almost. In her opinion, this was just too amusing to not watch.
Hallow's End was always such an interesting holiday to her. On one hand, she enjoyed the festivities and the overall nature of it. But on the other she had actually encountered many of the real versions of the "monsters" told in the stories. So it was a little surreal seeing the young trick-or-treaters go about it with merriment and disregarding fact from fiction.
(1/2)
Asana watched Lin knock on the door. A middle aged man answered it. Lin's voice must have been barely a whisper because even she couldn't hear her speak. But the man held out a bowl of candy anyways and let Lin choose the piece she wanted. With a noticeable skip in her step now Lin moved on to the next house, with Asana quietly tailing her behind the trees.
After half a dozen houses, Lin, with a now more noticeable weight in her bucket, came running back towards her. She didn't look when crossing the street though and a group of several other kids accidentally slammed into her without warning. The four of them crashed to the ground in a tangled heap of cloaks and limbs.
"Lin!" She jogged out to meet them. Lin's hood and mask had fallen away. "Are you ok?"
The other kids were gaping at her exposed black and white furry face. "Woah, is that a costume? It looks so real!"
"I think it is real, Deric."
"Oh shut it, how could it be? I'd remember seeing someone like her before!"
She was confused at their responses for a moment then realized the children here have probably never seen a pandaren before, much less one their own age. "Easy boys," she held her hands up. "This is Lin, she's visiting from Pandaria."
"I..." Lin tried to speak up, but her voice stammered and her eyes glistened with tears. "Sorry...I wasn't looking. I didn't mean to...sorry! I'll leave now." She turned to run, but Asana's hand on her shoulder prevented her from moving.
One of the boys, Deric she heard his name was, stepped forward. "No, we're sorry! Don't cry. We weren't paying attention, it was all Tom's fault." His friend shot him an annoyed glance. "We've just never seen a..."
"Pandaren," Asana chimed in.
"What she said. But here, you can have some of our candy!" He and the other two all nodded enthusiastically, reaching into their buckets to offer a handful over.
Lin seemed taken aback by their kindness and sniffled. "Really? Th..thank you!"
"Don't mention it. We have to go, but you should come visit again sometime!" Without another word they all waved and ran off into the night.
"Well that was interesting," Asana wondered out loud. "You all right, Lin?"
The little girl nodded and smiled. "They were nice. I was worried because I'm...well not from around here. You were right though, it's not that scary! Ok it still is, but not as much now."
She hoisted the girl up to sit on her shoulders. "Ha I'm never wrong. I'm glad that ended well too. Your parents would have my head if I don't properly watch over you. Let's go to the center of town. There's more games we can play there!"
(2/2)
After half a dozen houses, Lin, with a now more noticeable weight in her bucket, came running back towards her. She didn't look when crossing the street though and a group of several other kids accidentally slammed into her without warning. The four of them crashed to the ground in a tangled heap of cloaks and limbs.
"Lin!" She jogged out to meet them. Lin's hood and mask had fallen away. "Are you ok?"
The other kids were gaping at her exposed black and white furry face. "Woah, is that a costume? It looks so real!"
"I think it is real, Deric."
"Oh shut it, how could it be? I'd remember seeing someone like her before!"
She was confused at their responses for a moment then realized the children here have probably never seen a pandaren before, much less one their own age. "Easy boys," she held her hands up. "This is Lin, she's visiting from Pandaria."
"I..." Lin tried to speak up, but her voice stammered and her eyes glistened with tears. "Sorry...I wasn't looking. I didn't mean to...sorry! I'll leave now." She turned to run, but Asana's hand on her shoulder prevented her from moving.
One of the boys, Deric she heard his name was, stepped forward. "No, we're sorry! Don't cry. We weren't paying attention, it was all Tom's fault." His friend shot him an annoyed glance. "We've just never seen a..."
"Pandaren," Asana chimed in.
"What she said. But here, you can have some of our candy!" He and the other two all nodded enthusiastically, reaching into their buckets to offer a handful over.
Lin seemed taken aback by their kindness and sniffled. "Really? Th..thank you!"
"Don't mention it. We have to go, but you should come visit again sometime!" Without another word they all waved and ran off into the night.
"Well that was interesting," Asana wondered out loud. "You all right, Lin?"
The little girl nodded and smiled. "They were nice. I was worried because I'm...well not from around here. You were right though, it's not that scary! Ok it still is, but not as much now."
She hoisted the girl up to sit on her shoulders. "Ha I'm never wrong. I'm glad that ended well too. Your parents would have my head if I don't properly watch over you. Let's go to the center of town. There's more games we can play there!"
(2/2)
Cute story :3 very touching event for a lil pandaren :D liked it.
((Just thought I’d give this a shot, thanks kindly for the interesting prompt! :) ))
In the slums of Orgrimmar, it was dark.
The night was her favourite time; it softened the impact when others saw the protruding bones of her arms, the unnatural pallor of her skin. The disgusted looks of the blood elves and those new highborne ones, the terse shunning from some orcs.
In contrast, the goblins were well-accustomed to dealing with Forsaken by now. A walking corpse with a coin purse, ready to trade, was just fine in their book. The trolls and Tauren though, they took her in stride, at least. She’d fought enough undead in Tanaris to know that trolls were no stranger to necromancy, and the Tauren... well, they regarded she and her brethren with pity in their eyes.
She hated it.
She wanted to be back in Brill, in her old cottage. It was hers in life and reclaimed in death. She wanted her books, her minions tending the small plot of straggling herbs outside. The rows of vials and unguents on the shelf by the window. And the secret she kept hidden under the floorboards. In the old, cracked wooden box, there were sketches a visiting artist from Capital City had done at the fair. It had cost her husband dearly, but the artist had drawn them all, quickly shading and tracing with a quick, talented hand. The rest of the family had joined in the shenanigans, and now yellowed, brittle pictures of them all - her mother and father, in-laws, nieces and nephews - rested in the old box. She still liked to take them out from time to time.
Things were different now. She didn’t weep or grieve when she looked at them. She only felt a sense of melancholy, one that sharpened when she looked at Thomas’ laughing face.
“Rin? Bless the Light, you’re up again!”
His face blanched when he saw her. “You need to lay back down, sweetheart. I’ll fetch the priest.”
She growled, an odd, feral sound, and his face paled.
She shuffled closer to him, her movements stiff and jerking. Inside her head, twin hectic thoughts to -FEED- and ‘no, no, no, not Thomas I can’t do this please no please STOP’ vied for control. The urge to rip, tear, and feed was growing, swelling, as she lost control. She tried to scream at Thomas to run. No sound came out, and he approached her, intending to carry her back to bed, and suddenly he was there, his throat was so close, and her mind was red and she needed to feed -
She didn’t grieve. She didn’t think she could anymore. Almost a decade into her new life, this strange new life where there wasn’t the sharp senses of pain or joy, where the green woods of Lordaeron were now quiet, filled with webs, mists, and shadows. Where a farmer’s daughter could become a powerful warlock, and travel to places that in life she’d never dreamed could exist.
Each year, she had enjoyed the hubbub that Hallow’s End would bring to the town. A link between her old life and the new. Travellers from all over Azeroth would descend on Tirisfal. There were fairs, markets, decorations. People celebrated the macabre, they revelled in it, and they didn’t shy away.
Now, it was just... gone. Razed to the ground, Brill had been sacrificed to the Alliance. She had known when the Dark Lady issued the command to abandon the town that everything was... over. She had fled to the Undercity then, taking only a few possessions. They were lost in the debris and blight, books and pictures gone forever. Faces that lived only in memory now.
But her home, her sanctuary, it was gone. The struggle meant nothing. Reclaiming Lordaeron meant nothing. Now, she stayed on a filthy cot in a crowded slum halfway across the world, the winking lights of the pumpkin lanterns a dull reminder of where she should have been. The Desolate Council was gone - executed for treason, and the Blightcaller wasn’t so solicitous of the refugee’s well-being. The Dark Lady herself was away, taking care of her duties as Warchief, no doubt. Children of the grave, abandoned. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
1/2
In the slums of Orgrimmar, it was dark.
The night was her favourite time; it softened the impact when others saw the protruding bones of her arms, the unnatural pallor of her skin. The disgusted looks of the blood elves and those new highborne ones, the terse shunning from some orcs.
In contrast, the goblins were well-accustomed to dealing with Forsaken by now. A walking corpse with a coin purse, ready to trade, was just fine in their book. The trolls and Tauren though, they took her in stride, at least. She’d fought enough undead in Tanaris to know that trolls were no stranger to necromancy, and the Tauren... well, they regarded she and her brethren with pity in their eyes.
She hated it.
She wanted to be back in Brill, in her old cottage. It was hers in life and reclaimed in death. She wanted her books, her minions tending the small plot of straggling herbs outside. The rows of vials and unguents on the shelf by the window. And the secret she kept hidden under the floorboards. In the old, cracked wooden box, there were sketches a visiting artist from Capital City had done at the fair. It had cost her husband dearly, but the artist had drawn them all, quickly shading and tracing with a quick, talented hand. The rest of the family had joined in the shenanigans, and now yellowed, brittle pictures of them all - her mother and father, in-laws, nieces and nephews - rested in the old box. She still liked to take them out from time to time.
Things were different now. She didn’t weep or grieve when she looked at them. She only felt a sense of melancholy, one that sharpened when she looked at Thomas’ laughing face.
“Rin? Bless the Light, you’re up again!”
His face blanched when he saw her. “You need to lay back down, sweetheart. I’ll fetch the priest.”
She growled, an odd, feral sound, and his face paled.
She shuffled closer to him, her movements stiff and jerking. Inside her head, twin hectic thoughts to -FEED- and ‘no, no, no, not Thomas I can’t do this please no please STOP’ vied for control. The urge to rip, tear, and feed was growing, swelling, as she lost control. She tried to scream at Thomas to run. No sound came out, and he approached her, intending to carry her back to bed, and suddenly he was there, his throat was so close, and her mind was red and she needed to feed -
She didn’t grieve. She didn’t think she could anymore. Almost a decade into her new life, this strange new life where there wasn’t the sharp senses of pain or joy, where the green woods of Lordaeron were now quiet, filled with webs, mists, and shadows. Where a farmer’s daughter could become a powerful warlock, and travel to places that in life she’d never dreamed could exist.
Each year, she had enjoyed the hubbub that Hallow’s End would bring to the town. A link between her old life and the new. Travellers from all over Azeroth would descend on Tirisfal. There were fairs, markets, decorations. People celebrated the macabre, they revelled in it, and they didn’t shy away.
Now, it was just... gone. Razed to the ground, Brill had been sacrificed to the Alliance. She had known when the Dark Lady issued the command to abandon the town that everything was... over. She had fled to the Undercity then, taking only a few possessions. They were lost in the debris and blight, books and pictures gone forever. Faces that lived only in memory now.
But her home, her sanctuary, it was gone. The struggle meant nothing. Reclaiming Lordaeron meant nothing. Now, she stayed on a filthy cot in a crowded slum halfway across the world, the winking lights of the pumpkin lanterns a dull reminder of where she should have been. The Desolate Council was gone - executed for treason, and the Blightcaller wasn’t so solicitous of the refugee’s well-being. The Dark Lady herself was away, taking care of her duties as Warchief, no doubt. Children of the grave, abandoned. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
1/2
When the call to the front came, she left the refugee slum gladly. A number of the Forsaken refugees were being called to the Darkshore front. Perhaps there would be opportunity to carve out a niche for herself once more, a home for their people. Perhaps not. It didn’t matter, not really, not anymore. Lordaeron was gone, and it was the only home that truly mattered.
They shuffled to the zeppelins under the hot, harsh sun, the interminable line never ending. A small flash of green darted amongst the assembled throngs. She looked down to see a pair of curious eyes peering up at her from behind a crude dwarven mask.
“Boo!” A small voice piped. “I’ll take ya t’ Ironforge, lassie!” He added in a truly awful attempt at an accent.
She dropped down to her knees, looking the small orc in the eyes. “I surrender, master dwarf. What would you have me do?”
The child giggled, and pushed up the mask, revealing a cheeky fanged smile. “I tricked you!” He called out to his mother, a harried looking orc who came running across the dusty mesa.
“Jaggar, stop bothering this woman! Come with me.”
“But I tricked her!” He turned back and looked up her hopefully. “Do I get a prize?”
She rummaged in her pouch, finding a small bag of candies. She held it out for the young orc. “A happy Hallow’s End to you, young one.”
He took it with a thank you and beaming smile, reaffixed his dwarf mask, and returned to his mother’s side.
“Aka-magosh, warrior,” the mother farewelled her with a respectful nod. “Lok’tar. For the Horde.”
She returned her nod. “For the Horde.” Mother and son made their way back towards the heart of the city.
She shuffled forward, mounting the zeppelin with a somber, silent contingent of Forsaken. Snipers, scouts, assassins, battle mages. One devotee of the void whispering and muttering to no one in particular. Otherwise, the other passengers appeared to match her, their expressions reflective. The loaded zeppelin lurched into the air with loud clunk of gears. As it rose she looked down at the squadrons ready to be deployed, ready to lay down their lives for the Dark Lady. The last defenders of Lordaeron.
The Dark Lady told them that they would have their vengeance. Vengeance against whom, she thought. The monster was long dead in his true grave, and his Scourge was in tatters in Northrend. Vengeance against the living? Perhaps, once. But times had changed. She had worked side by side with living humans - had even been saved by them in battle a time or two. Some humans had welcomed their family back, warmly enough for them to turn traitor apparently. And... it wasn’t the humans who had seeded the Undercity with explosives, she thought.
She wanted quiet. She wanted purpose beyond vengeance, beyond conquest. But above all, she wanted her home back.
She knew she probably was on her way to die. But serving Sylvanas was all that was left, now.
Or perhaps... serving the Horde? An odd thought, that. The orcs, those howling monstrous barbarians who killed so many, a lifetime ago. Different to see them as allies. As a small child who just wanted to celebrate Hallow’s End.
She touched the pouch around her neck. In it were the ashes of her cottage on the outskirts of Brill. When the time came, and she met the final death, she would have that little piece of her home with her, no matter where her body lay.
The zeppelin flew off, over the mountains, the city shrinking into a spot on the distant horizon. For the first time, she felt... uncertain... about the battle ahead. Her trust in her Queen was an increasingly fragile thing, but for now, it remained. Victory for Sylvanas.
They shuffled to the zeppelins under the hot, harsh sun, the interminable line never ending. A small flash of green darted amongst the assembled throngs. She looked down to see a pair of curious eyes peering up at her from behind a crude dwarven mask.
“Boo!” A small voice piped. “I’ll take ya t’ Ironforge, lassie!” He added in a truly awful attempt at an accent.
She dropped down to her knees, looking the small orc in the eyes. “I surrender, master dwarf. What would you have me do?”
The child giggled, and pushed up the mask, revealing a cheeky fanged smile. “I tricked you!” He called out to his mother, a harried looking orc who came running across the dusty mesa.
“Jaggar, stop bothering this woman! Come with me.”
“But I tricked her!” He turned back and looked up her hopefully. “Do I get a prize?”
She rummaged in her pouch, finding a small bag of candies. She held it out for the young orc. “A happy Hallow’s End to you, young one.”
He took it with a thank you and beaming smile, reaffixed his dwarf mask, and returned to his mother’s side.
“Aka-magosh, warrior,” the mother farewelled her with a respectful nod. “Lok’tar. For the Horde.”
She returned her nod. “For the Horde.” Mother and son made their way back towards the heart of the city.
She shuffled forward, mounting the zeppelin with a somber, silent contingent of Forsaken. Snipers, scouts, assassins, battle mages. One devotee of the void whispering and muttering to no one in particular. Otherwise, the other passengers appeared to match her, their expressions reflective. The loaded zeppelin lurched into the air with loud clunk of gears. As it rose she looked down at the squadrons ready to be deployed, ready to lay down their lives for the Dark Lady. The last defenders of Lordaeron.
The Dark Lady told them that they would have their vengeance. Vengeance against whom, she thought. The monster was long dead in his true grave, and his Scourge was in tatters in Northrend. Vengeance against the living? Perhaps, once. But times had changed. She had worked side by side with living humans - had even been saved by them in battle a time or two. Some humans had welcomed their family back, warmly enough for them to turn traitor apparently. And... it wasn’t the humans who had seeded the Undercity with explosives, she thought.
She wanted quiet. She wanted purpose beyond vengeance, beyond conquest. But above all, she wanted her home back.
She knew she probably was on her way to die. But serving Sylvanas was all that was left, now.
Or perhaps... serving the Horde? An odd thought, that. The orcs, those howling monstrous barbarians who killed so many, a lifetime ago. Different to see them as allies. As a small child who just wanted to celebrate Hallow’s End.
She touched the pouch around her neck. In it were the ashes of her cottage on the outskirts of Brill. When the time came, and she met the final death, she would have that little piece of her home with her, no matter where her body lay.
The zeppelin flew off, over the mountains, the city shrinking into a spot on the distant horizon. For the first time, she felt... uncertain... about the battle ahead. Her trust in her Queen was an increasingly fragile thing, but for now, it remained. Victory for Sylvanas.
I enjoyed the read :3 thank you for sharing. Fun perspective.
I just wanted to say I loved your story, Arinnatheir. That's everything I'd expect of a GOOD Forsaken story, and I've felt that sorely missing in game lately. Thanks for reminding me off the bittersweet aspect of the Forsaken that made me originally like them.
Thanks kindly for the lovely feedback! :)