Warcraft Fan Fiction ❯ A Savage Land ❯ Downfall ( Chapter 10 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

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“Is that our Lord's stew?” Fritha asked, the testy tone of a Vrykul dominating her voice.

Gard looked over from the breakfast she was cooking, glowering at the other concubine. The different clans of Vrykul had their differences and animosities, most apparent between Vrykul and Frost Vrykul. “Of course.”

Fritha eyed the thick meal, knowing already that Gard was actually a good cook in addition to a warrior. It wasn't the only reason the food transfixed her. “I'm on my way to speak with our Lord. I'll bring it up for you.”

Her hand touched the vial resting in her pocket.

-

Fritha tossed something into the air upon entering the tower's stables, saw Thora catch it. She huffed, “It is done.”

Thora saw the item was the empty vial. She made a pleased sound, showing it to the captured cultists. “And his body? The wives' suspicion?”

“He died well for a poisoned man,” Fritha muttered quietly. She was no warrior of honor, but she had a distaste for resorting to such underhandedness. “His body is disposed where it won't be easily found. The wives think him and I are in for an exceptionally long time of fucking. They won't come down to the first floor to check on us for some time.”

“Ah, the infamous libido of Fritha, a clever ploy for when time is crucial. Our true Lord will be pleased,” Thora said.

Tassaria sniffed. “The pig deserved this. Now, Val'kyr, let us combine our powers to send a message to our King's forces. The time to strike has come.”

Fritha handed over a bundle of clothing for the two nude cultists, revealed the last thing she had taken from the master bedroom: Lyana's bow. “Let us turn the tables on our enemy. They will learn the meaning of defying our liege.”

-

“See, there might be a use in localized freezing,” Aylenn was explaining to Sapph, “but the issue with it is that such detail consumes both frost runes and what runic power we manage to build up before then. It's different than the arcane we studied in Silvermoon, less doesn't necessarily mean less for death knights.”

Lasariel had joined them, frowning as she froze one of her fists and shook the ice off. “Interesting. Mana consumption for me is insignificant. It is only a frost rune whether I try for a whole blast or something this controlled.”

Their discussion broke off as Fritha entered the room from the deck, allowing the cloth flap to fall behind her. Her gold eyes glittered as she studied everyone in the room, holding a large rectangle of folded cloth to her chest. She disregarded them after a moment, beginning to make her way further in the room.

Aylenn turned away from her, shaking her head lightly. “We better check that our dear husband is still alive after Fritha. You all remember the last time she and him went at it; he couldn't even walk normally the next day.” She concluded that with a light laugh, rising and offering a hand for Sapph.

Lasariel remained lounged on that bedroll that had been turned into a sofa for the middle tier of the tower. “You two go. I feel it is a good time for my morning nap.” They blinked at her, seeing her turn to her back and fold her arms behind her head, closing her eyes.

Giving a half-shrug, Aylenn kept her hand clasped with Sapph and began to guide her towards the door. Holding hands in the blood elf lands was a common gesture for ladies of nobility, not the same as between lovers in the human traditions. Neither her nor Sapph had been quite that high in status in life, but now, Aylenn felt she and Nathaniel had sufficiently established themselves of lordship and ladyship.

They reached the landing to see it barren, the bed cleaned of any mess their husband and Fritha might have made. The tray that had held their breakfast lay scraped clean off to the side of the room. Wishing they had benches to rest on, something more graceful than the floor or the bedroll, Aylenn and Sapph leaned against the stone wall.

“I suppose he went out for a bath,” Sapph said, studying their room in closer detail. She smirked. “On the good side, at least that means he can walk.”

Aylenn snorted in laughter suddenly. The unfeminine sound startled both of them, and after a brief pause, they both laughed.

There was a sound from outside, but Aylenn found she couldn't reign in her laughter in time to compose herself for Nathaniel's return, instead hoping a beaming smile would get her point across. The cloth was ripped to the side, her and Sapph both watching, and then there was a moment when what the mind explicitly expected and what was seen clashed.

The eyes expected the form of Nathaniel, leaning in with his roguish grace and stepping in. No matter what he wore, there was that image of him, his face, the cautious footing, his body's silent movement. Things Aylenn knew she could notice and identify to him with barely a glance. And so when the cloth moved, her mind scanned for those things of Nathaniel, coming up with a blank where none of it fit.

It was a man, but he was huge. His hair was long and messy, light brown, and he sported a savage beard. Instead of subtlety, there was thundering – not just sound, but even his movement could be characterized by the loud and violent nature. Aylenn's mind processing him blanked for a second, then realized that this was not Nathaniel but instead a male Vrykul.

Entering their home with murder on his face.

“Slaughter them in the Lich King's name!” he bellowed, striking both girls silent.

In that hanging pause, their was a muffled roar from outside their tower. Dozens of heavy Vrykul voices came together in a battle cry, deep males and higher females. So long consumed in the roar, Aylenn immediately recognized what was happening. An invasion. But the stray thought most shaking was: Where is Nathaniel?!

She trusted her husband, however. He must have found out of the assault ahead of time and dropped into stealth, waiting for the right time to strike. Why wouldn't he warn us then? She refused to assume the worst. Refused!

Their weapons weren't on them, but in the slow motion of the attackers beginning to move towards them, Aylenn recalled that they were in their bedroom, where their weapons were always stored. An adept trick she had come up with years ago was utilized as she death-gripped both her runeblade and Sapph's runed axe, arming them both.

Aylenn stepped to the side and spun her body into a low blow that took advantage of the Vrykul's superior height, cleaving his stomach and spilling out his innards. She came out on his other side to engage the next assailant, expecting Sapph at her side, but only when she engaged the Shield Maiden did she realize she was alone.

Turning at a free moment, Aylenn looked back to check on Sapph, quickly returning her attention on the fight. Her friend was simply standing there, head bowed. “Oh Sapph,” she sing-songed in false cheer. “Any time now!”

Sapph's quiet voice returned to her in between the clashes of metal. “I told you I would follow a new master but I wouldn't strike against the Lich King.”

Blighted night! Aylenn remembered that, thoughts turning furiously while she struggled to keep the invaders trapped single-manned at the door, chocking off their forces. She shouted, “This is defending your own life!” The corner of Aylenn's eye caught the motion of invading Val'kyr flying over the Vrykul to infiltrate the higher floors.

There was a flash of a cultist's face in the army, and a voice rang out, “You will ignore the Rider of Frost, you mindless brutes!” Vrykul muttered angrily at his words, but they remained unified allies.

Oh, darkness. Where are you, Nathaniel?

-

“Treachery!” Gard shouted, spinning away from a Vrykul's blow to crouch on the floor, facing the intruders.

Varna's equally large form bumped against her back, facing the other entrance where a Val'kyr deposited two cultists. Her bow was in her hands, never far from her even in her home. She nocked an arrow, glaring furiously towards where one Vrykul rested against a wall, fire licking her hands. “I'll eat your heart, maggot!”

Fritha released a ball of fire, only for a shell of magic to absorb it. Lasariel remained in her place on the bedroll, watching the room without concern. She was powerful but did not have infinite reserves. Using up too much of her power too fast had been her downfall the last time they came for her.

Sylva's hands danced with holy energy, attention on her spell. Merette came in a blur of pale skin and grabbed her arms, tugging her back and away from a shadowy bolt released by the two invading cultists. Sylva made a sound of frustration, one not directed at her former captor. “I only need ten seconds, damn it all! I can recover Eydis before her spirit is lost for good!”

Varna's Vrykul clanswoman lay unmoving near one of the entry flaps, a pool of blood around the fallen Shield Maiden. Unprepared for the invasion and too close to the first, Eydis had been swept aside in a flash of steel, struck in her unprotected back. None of the concubines got along particularly well, but each had felt the death of one of their own.

Lasariel frowned at the Val'kyr, more following the first few in. They were undead, subject to control. A bad choice to send against her! She channeled a spell of domination, muttering the necessary words. Her hand lashed out towards them and closed in a fist to seal their wills to her.

Several Val'kyr laughed. “We here are on the Lich King's special blessing, Lasariel. You will not control us.”

“Apparently the mines were too kind for you, whore of darkness,” one cultist said, a grey haired man. “You will be cut from your powers and tossed into the slave pits to be mere pleasure girl for the Vrykul men. They will tear you apart. You will be begging for death by the time your master comes for you, and only an eternity of suffering will await you!”

“ I may not be able to control you,” Lasariel said, smiling frostily. “But I can still slay you, pests!” Both hands unleashed shadowy doom to either entry way, throwing invaders off the tower to plummet to their deaths. “Minions of the legion, hear the call of your mistress. You have tested wills with me and lost. Come forth and wreak your havoc!”

Three felguard soldiers were summoned onto the mortal plane. They eyed the surroundings with disdain, each making sure to glare once at Lasariel. Their words came with grating displeasure. “Mistress, command me.”

“Slaughter my enemies,” she hissed, her voice altering with an echo of manifested power.

Vrykul came pouring up the stair way just as more Val'kyr replaced the first, also depositing more cultists. There was a roaring of voices, both defenders and attackers, and the struggle for life and spilled blood began again with ruthless intensity.

-

Sigrid impaled another Val'kyr, throwing the thrashing woman off her weapon and over the tower's roof's edge. Flash Freeze halted one mid-swing, and she cleaved the woman in half in a shower of crystalline shards and ethereal blood. Two came too close for countering, and she disengaged from the attack, leaping backwards in an arc steadied by her wings.

“Sigrid Iceborn!” a deep voice called, certainly Vrykul. Sigrid glanced up with her sightless helm and exhaled. A man riding a proto-drake hovered besides the tower, rippling with muscle and menace. “Regards from the Lich King!”

Nearly a dozen of the beasts flew up from around the tower, their riders calling out commands to keep them tightly controlled. Sigrid faced the opponents fearlessly, realizing too late what they intended to do.

The beasts spewed burning flames from their maws, engulfing the entire roof of the tower. Sigrid tried flying to escape it, hearing the other Val'kyr screaming their deaths from being caught in the crossfire, but the first man threw his javelin and scored it into her shoulder, throwing off her motion and sending her down again into the flames.

-

Selendre inhaled deeply, smelling the salty air, metallic blood, and smoke. She exhaled, smiling broadly. She ran her hands over her front, extremely pleased to be wearing clothes again. The consuming fear of being grossly violated and defiled by that man, forced into his pleasure girl, had diminished since the morning, beginning around the time she heard of his demise.

She stood with Tassaria at the water's edge, watching the burning tower in the distance that had been their strange prison. She had never met the silver-haired head from Aldur'thar before, but they had grown in a semblance of closeness by their shared experience. The gorgeous woman sighed, body wracking once with a shiver that had her draw her robes tighter around her. “And so the story ends of the wretched place.”

“I don't understand what that savage man was thinking,” Selendre muttered. “He thought he could defy our Lord so gravely, enslave women to his lusts like it were the ancient, uncivilized times, and then expected to not face ramifications for it?”

“The justice and consequence of such pleasures – those are the themes of what scholars may reflect on at a later time,” Tassaria said. “Let us focus on the present. What of those loyal to the Nameblighted?”

“One of them we have confirmed dead, her corpse burned so she may never know this life again. Some managed to escape in the confusion, but some – including the Frostfury – we have captured.”

“Our deal is concluded,” a voice said behind them. Both cultists turned to see the Dark Ranger, swathed in black with her bow over her shoulder. “I helped you subdue them, now I get to go free.”

Tassaria flicked her hand at Lyana. “Yes, you are free to go. But mark this day, favorite of Sylvanas. Remember what happens to those who defy the Lich King.”

The elf stiffened, red eyes burning in a dark glare, and she turned to trot towards the water. She leapt in and began swimming towards the coast, away forever from the island of her capture.

Selendre's gaze turned down, smile widening. “As for you, dear Merette... If it is pleasure girl you wish to be instead of the enlightened of our Lord, then pleasure girl you shall be. Now when I entertain a guest, we have a way to make him... much more entertained. If I don't feel inclined to mutilate that pretty body in my experiments.”

Tassaria sniffed. “We have been reverted to novices for our ineptitude, you know. At least we are being offered a way to save face by being the ones who must return the captives to our Lord. We are given only a few of the brutes to carry around their weight.”

“Come along, Merette. It is time we left this place for good.” Selendre turned a sly smile towards Tassaria, seeing the woman return her own faint smile briefly before they turned towards the remaining boat.

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