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Iibyss didn’t know how he always managed to get into these sorts of things as he exited the lair of some nameless rogue. The lair was something he wished to never enter again. A succubus constantly whipped leper gnomes while they slaved over looms of silk, mageweave and other assorted cloths. Of course the humble lair was decorated in the finest of blood elf veils, pillows and other furnishings. It’s what made it all the more eerie. The time spent in there chatting with the Sin’dorei prisoner was enough for the forest troll.
His thoughts lingered to the pale elf creature and Iibyss growled in frustration. Beautiful, blind, and just pleading for the Amani priest to scoop her up in his limber arms and save her and save her from her lavish prison. The mossy green troll grunted in disgust. Instead he left like a coward with only a letter from her to a person who would come be her knight in shining armor. Iibyss took a seat in front of a lavish fountain in the Court of the Sun, and ran his calloused fingers through his stringy bangs.
“Ah shoulda jus let dem keel meh,” the Amani troll sighed, recalling how he had gotten into this mess.
Several weeks ago they came to his little hut in Ratchet, a band of head hunters from his old home in the north. His brother, Zaravah, died most unfortunately at the hands of the Sin’dorei during one of their many campaigns. Of course his brother wasn’t any troll, he was the High Priest to the old Gods. The forest trolls were in disarray at the blow, scattered and frantic without their spiritual leader. Iibyss, honestly, didn’t give a rats a** about the war up there. He was the black sheep of his family, a lazy slacker in a family line of Priests. The troll had left many years ago, and his family hadn’t bothered to follow the obvious failure . . . until now that is. With Zaravah dead, there was no one left to take up his role. Iibyss refused but they pressed on until a rather large beast of a troll stepped forward. He threatened to behead him and keeping his own preservation in mind, the reluctant outcast was brought home.
Several weeks of formal training in rituals went by with surprising quickness and the Sin’dorei continued their relentless attacks. Somehow Iibyss managed to save his hide on more than one occasion. The Amani grew restless, demanding blood for the shear number of lives lost. It was easy to quell the demands at first but the elders brought up a ritual blessing, a blessing that required a sacrifice. It wasn’t long before the entire tribe was chanting and demanding. With his own survival foremost in his mind, Iibyss proclaimed that the ritual blessing would be performed on the next full moon.
Now it was only a week before the full moon was upon him and the forest troll still didn’t know how to escape. He couldn’t kill another being and what if it was that poor Blood elf girl, what then? Iibyss put his head in his hands and sighed dejectedly. If he let the girl go, the rogue would surely slaughter him in his sleep. If he delivered this letter, her friends would question him as to why he didn’t help her escape. If he had to sacrifice her, her family surely would demand his head.
“Ah be fooked.”
She was afraid, terrorfied of what was going to happen. Desperately she tried to figure out where she was, and what was going to be done to her, but to no avail. The Forsaken taunted her, played with her feelings as though it were a game. Perhaps to him it was, but she could only try to get help.
Her hearthstone, others could hear Athilea's voice, confused and full of fear. Asking a mysterious voice questions, and her spirit in the inn reacted to her fear. Her friends resting within were just as lost as her fellow members in The Forge, completely taken off guard by the Blood Elf's change of tone, and seemingly delerious reactions to some unknown entity.
She could feel someone shaking her, and her all she could get out was seemingly gibberish. Her white eyes glazed with the horror she was feeling, as she continued speaking, asking the same question in different ways. Then, with the feeling of a thorn cutting her neck, her spirit was ripped from the inn. Athilea feel to her knees, automatically raising her hand to her throat. Her voice, though quiet, could still be heard clearly through the hearthstone.
Just as quickly she collapsed, falling into a poisen induced sleep. The audible sound of her body falling the rest of the way to the ground, and her hearthstone rolling across the floor were the last things heard.
Hours later she woke up, feeling a different surface beneath her. She sat up quickly, before she had time to think to stop herself. Panic took over, the next thing Athilea new, she had her back pressed against some wooden surface. No one was there, no one stopped her. All she could hear were the sounds of a whipe cracking, and crying that followed it closely.
It took alot of effort, but she managed to find her way to the inn, where Karu reacted quickly to her appearance. She was questioned very quickly, but had none of the answers. Pyrenus was asking her to focus, to figure out where she was. Then a voice filled her prison. Unfamiliar, but they were a troll by accent.
She pleaded for help. Begged the Amani to free her, but he wouldn't. The only thing he would do was send a letter. Before she could think she blurted out Meem's name, the first person that came to mind. And just as quickly as her company had come, they left her. Alone in the dark, with only painfilled screams to keep her company until the poisen took effect again.
Athilea gave way to the fear that had been building up. She pulled her trembling knees to her chest and sobbed. Everything had happened so quickly, and she blamed it all on her disability. If she could see this wouldn't have happened.
At least that's what she told herself.
Coward.
That’s all he could think of. That one word ran through his head, tormenting his every waking moment. Not even in the quiet peace of the night would his mind stop its relentless attack. The natives of Orgrimmar walked on between the bank and the Auction house, oblivious to the Amani priest’s inner torment. Seeing her hadn’t helped him much. No, his guilt and jealously only grew. Iibyss ran his hand through his emerald braided locks, and sighed dejectedly, closing his ruby eyes. Her sightless eyes still haunted him even after she left. She even wanted to help him. Him! The troll who wasn’t even brave enough to save her, who left to let her die. He’d been contemplating the notion for hours.
He still didn’t have an answer.
It made no sense at all. Could she perhaps…no. Never. She had her knight, he knew that. No sense in wishing, but there was such an ache, at seeing her alive and well and he had nothing to do with it. Iibyss let his mind wander, thinking back to that knight he bought the elven girl. Scared little flower, he’d tried so hard not to just sweep her away from that place.
~
Money was exchanged a few days after Iibyss came to the rogue’s lair. Another blood was there, the acting co-manager it seemed. It was eerie, watching the blood elf sell him his own people, probably knowing full well what the Amani would most likely do. No morals helped in his line of work, the troll supposed. The small blind elf, Athilea she called herself, was shocked at his betrayal, his lies. Her life could have ended there, had the rogue not cared so much.
He’d led her through the city, afraid they would be caught. That it would be over. Thankfully they made it through the city without incident.
The trip to the ruins in Eversong was just as uneventful, only the occasional whimper from the blind elf. Each whimper drove a dagger right into his heart. What choice did he have? Let his people tear him to pieces? Even troll couldn’t regenerate a heart or a brain. Or find a sacrifice for the ritual? What did it matter that the elf girl was blind and helpless, crying for Amani priest to save her? Hadn’t she and all her kin killed his people? Even as he thought it, he didn’t believe it. Many sighs and cobwebs later, he sat down the small girl in the ruins.
At least she was safe . . .
. . . but for how long?
Iibyss didn’t have an answer for that. Conflicted was too light a word for what the Amani priest was feeling. They talked that night. She begged and pleaded just to take her away, and ever time he told he couldn’t. What a lie. He wouldn’t do it. Not if it meant risking his own life and with each passing moment, his self-loathing grew.
Why?
Why did it matter so much?
He’d never had to care for anyone but himself. His family rejected him early in life. The forest troll was used to only worrying about one person. Himself. Yet, here in the forgotten ruins, he cared about this Sin’dorei, cared if she died. Still, his need to survive was stronger. He left her there, with empty, hollow promises.
Sleep, that night wouldn’t come and Iiybss found himself wandering, lost in his thoughts. His feet must have known where they were going. He ended up at the foot of the ruins where Athilea slept.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, a storm of emotions raging inside him. He glanced down at her after sometime, with befuddled ruby eyes. How could one little elfing make him question his way of life? What was so special about her? The Amani priest, reached out and tucked a stray pale red hair out of her face before he realized what he was doing. He pulled back, appalled and horrified.
What was this witch doing to him?
~
Iiybss shook his head, Orgimmar shifting back into focus as he pulled himself from his memories. He left that night, ran. The forest troll couldn’t trust himself around her. He’d risk the blades of his tribe, anything but seeing her die before his eyes. And there she was today, still haggard but alive. His heart yearned to rush up to the elf and hug her tight against him. Instead he sat there, guarded.
No . . . He didn’t trust himself around this one . . . then why did he call her name? Why did he yearn to hear her voice?
Why indeed.
Cold, alone, and afraid. Those were the only distinct things she remembers. It had seemed like an eternity before someone came to her aid. Her captors had disappeared, leaving her to what she thought would be a slow and horrible death. Likely they thought she couldn't escape, that people weren't looking for her. How little they knew if that was the case.
She was delirious when Meem and a Blood Elf she didn't know found her. It was everything she could do not to run for it when she heard the sound of fast approaching steps. If not for the poison in her system she likely would have. Quickly they made their escape, leading her thrugh the Amani ruins. She clung to Meem trying to keep her feet, her limbs felt weak.
Now she stood in Orgrimmar with Thulzazt continuosly whispering in her ear, guiding her away from idiots on riding animals that would run her down. Pyrenus had cured her of the poison, but still she wasn't at her best and it showed. Soon a familiar voice filled her ears. The priest, the one that had bought her, the Amani that was going to lead her sacrifice. Athilea had mixed feelings of anger and pity. He'd run, she didn't know why. Something in his voice was odd. Everything he said sat a little something off in her mind. The way he spoke wasn't normal for his people.
He needed help, just as much as she had. She had to do something, but he wouldn't let her. Like hell she thought. If she could do something she would. Her mind raced to figure something out. His people were no doubt looking for him, it would explain why they had left the blind elf alone. Iibyss urged her to rest, and to stay away from him.
What could she possibly to do help though?
((There will be more to come))
©2005 Pamela "Athilea" Johnson All Rights Reserved
 Athilea Majiri · Mon Jul 23, 2007 @ 10:58pm · 0 Comments |
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