Just because after this arc is done (one more post, I swear) I am dumping all the rest of my cata toons in over a period of time, I thought I might make a quick character list of the ones you know, and will come to know.
Trolls:
Dzie'wanna: The current Protagonist. Her story is coming to a close, her path found and becoming a tame one. A shadow hunter, yes, but not a powerful one and one meant to push others on the path for the future. She may have cameo's in future works, but I feel like she is about done, and I want to give her her rest.
Quetz'le: Dzie'wanna's future mate. After Cataclsym hits, and some of my chaos has died down (I think maybe as a christmas 'gift') I will have a troll style wedding as the final spotlight on her. It will have taken place before the Cataclsym, after the retaking, so it will be a bit of a flashback. Something nice and cheerful to distract from all the drama that will be going on as the world implodes. He is a old dude who is simple in speech, but smart as anything and was quite handsome back in the day.
Tsis'tu: Dzie'wanna and Quetz'le's son. He will be a rogue come Cataclysm, smart and sharp and will be the straight man next to Sinkalip. He will take on the name given to his mother: Dartertrick.
Sinkalip: The nephew of Dzie, cousin of Tsis'tu, and my future troll druid. He will become much more of a main character come cata, and will be a comic character. Flirty, lively, and mischievous as all heck. I am thinking of him being a bit like Bugs Bunny. He will delight in annoying the Night Elves in Moonglade.
Isondo: My future troll mage. Drakkari in origin, I will probably keep her OOC while in most of the big cities. She will have her home in Dalaran in the future, and be a force to be reckoned with. My challenge, but spawned by my love of the Drakkari trolls. I still like the Darkspear more, but man, the Drakkari have such a freakin' story.
Skathidi: My future troll hunter/shadow hunter. She will be one of the students Dzie'wanna taught in the past, who will come back and take the next step to be a shadow hunter soon. A sharper character, a wiser wit, and a veteran of the war in Northrend and had a very brief stint in Outland. In some ways, she is carrying on Dzie's tradition.
Tauren:
Ayunli Thunderdrum: A niece of one of Dzie'wanna's friends who died in Northrend, she had been training as a druid and acting to further friendship between Silvermoon and Thunderbluff before hearing Aponi Brightmane and Tahu Sagewind speak. Now, she is called to battle and has taken the ways of the Sunwalker.
Goblins:
Dizzy: Also known as Dzie'wanna Appletini Wiggle Bedelia Robin Speekeasy III. Yes, Dzie will be given a race change, but completely different character here. A collector and genius when it comes to animals, she is a odd goblin that has a very apt nickname.
Higgle Lugbomb: Cousin of Dizzy. Miser, grinch, and business woman. Doesn't like get rich quick schemes. At all.Is currently under the service of Her Tallness, Mida Silvertongue. Shaman.
Speekeasy: Sister of Dizzy, also cousin of Higgle. A warrior alchemist who uses the word 'cool' and 'chill' too much. Very laid back, and has both horrendously bad luck (ex. stuff keeps falling at her) and horrendously good luck (ex. the stuff that falls always misses her by a hair).
And, my new main...
Snuffit Threez: A goblin priestess who is cousin of all the other goblins I mentioned, and has six older sisters who are well-known and respected gold-diggers. She is smart, sophisticated, but has a bit of a soft spot for luxery and cheating (she calls it 'insurance').
I am tempted to make Dizzy connected to Dzie'wanna, to keep up the theme of the blog. As a hunter who wasn't on Kezan when it sunk as she was busy traveling and collecting, it is feasible. So something for me to think about.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Echo Isles: Regaining Home - part 3
The daggers screeched as they locked and slid against each other, flashing in the now setting sun. Tsis’tu stumbled back, bringing up his arm in defense as Dzie’wanna struck at him again. He could feel his fur matting with sweat, and the coolness of the evening had yet to make a difference. His mother was strong, he hadn’t realized until now how much so. It wasn’t that she was particularly skilled with the dagger. She had no flashy moves, no finesse, but experience and sheer strength was on her side. Whenever she got past his defenses, she hit him with the back of it. He had bruises forming all over and settling into his muscles.
Finally, after the next blow struck his chin, she pulled back and let her arms relax at her sides. “Enough, this is good.” Before he could say anything (he hadn’t even hit her once, dammit) she started walking towards the bonfires that were being started in the town. Drums had being going on all day, but the new rise of the sound against the red of the sea and sky caused the air to fill and pulse with the beat. He took a deep breath and felt the air sweep off the sea as he examined his mother.
He hardly knew her. It struck him how much this was true. By the traditions, she was worthless, a adulteress and one who abandoned her family. He knew why she had slept with his true father though, he had used his and Sinkalip’s spying skills to sneak around and find out. He had been lucky that gossip ran rampant. There was true affection, but the truth was that with her husband no child had been coming. The blame for this is always on the woman, so she risked her reputation to receive a child. He supposed she didn’t regret it, it was with the man she loved. And though he had a black mark on him since a child due to the drama surrounding his parents, that helped sooth his mind. Oh, he had been angry about it. When younger. But although still bitter he had achieved some peace. It wasn’t worth it to tear his mind over how unfair it was when it simply was, and that was that.
His mother… she didn’t look motherly. Whipcord muscles and scars scattered across her body, the same calm orange eyes as him, the same blunt features. He had his father’s hair and overlong ears, but that was about it. He had been thinking about punishing her for her absence with biting remarks and long silences, but seeing her… he couldn’t help but think she was punished by fate enough. And that had him satisfied.
“Tsis’tu?”
His ears twitched as he came out of his thoughts. “Yes, mother?”
She tilted her head towards him, her eyes sizing him up, weighing him. “Do you plan to join the Horde soon?”
“In a year or two. The island needs to be rebuilt first.” He gave a shrug.
“Yes, that is good. I… I plan to stay, for awhile. Sassaba needs a place to stay, and Isondo will soon leave. I shall stay.” Her tone was hesitant, eyes watching for his reaction. He shrugged again. He could hear the undertones, how she wanted to spend more time with him (not that he minded, he could use some training) and both knew how hard it would be.
“Do what you wish, I will not protest.”
Her lips twitched into a small smile.
————————————-
Isondo got off the bat, feeling her legs wobble as she collapsed on the ground and started whimpering. How did these little half-trolls manage to fly these things? She shuddered. Frogs that hadn’t been thrown let out croaks from the bag as she staggered to her feet, ignoring the laughter and amused looks from some trolls near by. Stars were starting to come out on the horizon.
She straightened her back and shoved the bag at the nearest person, marching off towards the stables. After growling her way past some of the keepers, she slipped into the stall of Mahak.
He lay there, a blue glow pouring out of his mouth and his bright eyes looking at her sleepily. One of the few uncursed sons of Harkoa and Loque’nahak. A blessing. It was said only those hunter’s that were favored by the spirits would be able to tame one, and this was the one reason she had not tried to kill or flee from Dzie’wanna. To tame a child of the two was something to respect.
She sat down, stroking the head of the cat as he purred and curled up around her. She remembered Harkoa, back in Zul’Drak. The beautiful snow leopard was the loa she paid homage to, her chosen one to worship. Loa were jealous of their followers, after all. She loved this creature, the reminder of home and of the ice and snow, and of the power of the Drakkari. She remembered binding long, bleached strands of leather around her arms, the paws cut from one of the older cats laying as gloves over her hands, a painted mask covering her face as she and other maidens dances in the first snow. The celebration of the maiden of ice was a dance balanced with ferocity and and elegance, a worthy dance. Many men would use the time to spot out woman who they might want as mates, though they could not ask until they had proven themselves over the hard winter.
Du’roo had watched her, that night. When her feet were slicing into the snow and each flake catching in her hair. Her mother was sure that he would prove himself, and he would come to her with a offer of marriage. He had been proud, strong. She did not let herself think of his fate, of how he was one of the first to fall to the Scourge. Nor did she let herself remember how in the next year, in the first snowfall, Harkoa had been chained and nearing her end.
She simply lay back against the stable wall, the warmth of the creature and of her memories before the ice became cold lulling her into sleep.
————————————-
Sassaba was enjoying herself. Quetz’le had picked her up and had let her eat a ton of coconuts, and now her eyes slid heavily shut as she was carried back and laid down on the mat in the tent, him chuckling as he ruffled her short hair and told her to sleep. She saw him walk out, back into the night to help prepare for the last events of the war, and her eyes shut dreaming about chasing frogs and playing in the ocean.
She think she liked it here. Even if the other kids were a little stupid.
————————————
Tsis’tu was now asleep, and Dzie’wanna was standing by the beach as the stars filled the sky. War paint covered her face, her body still feeling the beat of the dance of the spirits. She felt it then, the joining of the past and the present, the celebration of those who came before and gave them the blessing. Home.
“Ah, see, I knew you would be out here.”
She looked back over her shoulder and inclined her head at Quetz’le as he walked up to her. He came to stand beside her, a smile curving up around his tusks.
“The battle starts tomorrow, are you ready?”
“I have missed the march on the citadel of the Lich King for this. I am ready, Quetz’le.”
He looked at her, examining her features before his hand fell on her shoulder. “You chose us then.”
Dzie’wanna looked out over the sea, the islands standing in the distance. She thought she could see them for a moment, the spirits of the past. Her friends, Heighth, Beast, and Fleighth. The three Tauren who took her under their wing when she was fighting for the Horde in Feralis and the Barrens. She had taken up their ways, their religion, and many other things to fill in the hole that leaving her tribe behind had left. They had each passed on. Heighth, the hunter who had shown her strength, he had died first in The Outlands. Bleeding to death from a Alliance attack in Nagrand. Beast (not his true name, but one affectionately given by friends and allies), also a hunter and one who was her closest friend, the one who she was often paired for missions with, died in Northrend. He only made it so far as Dragonblight, felled by the Scourge. Fleighth, who was a druid, died on the grounds of Wintergrasp, by Alliance.
She had sacrificed a chance at revenge at the home of the Lich King to serve her people. But her son was here, and although she had left him in body she had never left her thoughts of him. The time had come to take up her tribe again, and to take the burdens that came with it.
“Will you come back to rest tonight?”
Dzie’wanna shook her head, deep in thought. “No, I need to do my own consulting with the spirits. I must be right with them before tomorrow dawns.”
Quetz’le gave a nod, and leaned over, allowing his tusks to rest on her shoulder in a moment of affection. “See you on the battlefield, then.”
As he walked away, Dzie’wanna started her own trek outside the village. Following the shore, picking up any brush she came across, she eventually reached to a small grove of trees and started snapping some leaves and branches off them. She stacked the materials and took out her flint and steel. A few solid strikes had the brush catch flame. Sitting back on her heels, her eyes watched the sparks catch as the moon shone brightly on the sand. The fire was not for light. Tonight, Mu’sha was bright enough to have the trees paint stark shadows, the mountains in the distance looking strange for their own crevices being cast deeper in the light.
For awhile she sat there, breathing in the ocean and fire, feeling the sand between her fingers and grinding into her heels, having the breeze attempt to move her thick braids. Then, her hands rose, the palms facing upward as she spoke.
“Earth Mother, I ask-”
“Eeeehhhh? What is this, young one? Have you forgotten your way?”
Dzie’wanna’s muscles snapped to attention, her neck tensing as one hand sought her dagger and she whirled around, one knee on the ground with the other leg ready to push off with it’s foot forward on the ground. Standing right where the firelight started to grow weak was a man, a troll of great age who’s wrinkles seemed to fold on themselves. His tusks were small, but had runes and the old Zandali language carved into every inch. His white hair was made into many small braids, some falling in front of his ears and framing his face. Clenched between his front teeth was a ornate pipe that was painted to look like a snake. The strangest thing of him, however, was his sleek deep blue fur, darker than any troll’s she had seen, and the yellow eyes that had a glow to them. Recognizable as a troll’s eyes, the pupil easily seen, but the light was there nonetheless.
Her hands fell to the ground as she bowed, her limbs shaking. Any troll who had been raised with the stories of the loa knew who this was. “Legba, lord of many roads, why-”
He laughed, his wrinkles moving as he stepped closer. The beaded leather outfit, dancing with designs and fringe that gave movement around his mostly bare arms, caught the light in each bead and made it to look like it held stars. He grinned down at the shaking troll. “You know, I am glad to see you here Dzie’wanna, daughter of no one, master of beasts. It is about time things start coming into place.”
She looked up, watching as he sat down in front of her with no little awe. Though it was not unheard of for the Loa to visit on the trolls, especially those who served them (in fact, among the more powerful priests, if you had not at least had one vision of a loa you were considered cursed in whispers) it was something that was not usual. “May I ask-”
“Eh, stop with all this ‘may’ and ‘lord’ and such. Good for ceremonies, but you were starting another. Which although I don’t mind as much as others that you serve the Earth Mother, well, that being the reason I am here instead of another, I do mind that you did not call on me before her this night.” He puffed on his pipe, a white cloud raising and curling on itself before it disappeared into the night.
Legba was one of the most sociable of the Hunter loa. Of the Shadow Hunter pantheon, as the loa of speed and crossroads, he knew both battle and wisdom. She took a deep breath, wondering if he would cut her off again, before speaking.
“I am sorry, Legba, and ask your forgiveness.” It was all she could say. To be visited by this loa was amazing enough, she did not want to cause any animosity, nor cause any curse to come upon her.
He gave a laugh. “Still so formal! Tell me, you only half mean it, yes? There is still scars on you, Dzie’wanna. You felt abandoned by your tribe long before you were married, long before you left. And you felt abandoned by the loa, even if your prayers were never meant in the first place.” He smiled down at her, a twinkle in his eye as he shook his head in humor. “But, this is your crossroads. You have chosen to stay in the tribe again. This will not be a easy path, Dzie’wanna. Should you take it with only half a heart, should you still cling first to your learned Tauren ways, you will fail and leave yet again. And perhaps die in the Barrens, in a blast of fire.”
She swallowed, wondering if he meant by mage, cannon, shaman or warlock. She stayed quiet as he examined her, his face becoming serious.
“But there is another path. Should you take it, you will die as well Dzie’wanna. But it will be a more fulfilling death, and take place later in life. Although you will not be marked as a hero, not remembered in legends, you will be known by those you teach.” He knelt by her, and reached over and took the dagger from it’s sheath. Throwing it the air, it spun before he caught the blade between two thick fingers. “This path… is one of the Shadow Hunter. I do not ask you to stop believing in Tauren rights, but your worship shall be to me, and your rights will be to me. Although many loa are loosening their way in this out of need, with you I will not.” He held the dagger out, the handle for her to grab. “Do you accept?”
Her hands shook as her thoughts tumbled together. She knew what this meant. For a moment, she thought of her friend’s and their deaths. Of her family and the life she now had. “Would… when visitng my friend’s graves, may I pay honor in the way of the Earth Mother? In all else I will follow and be glad to do so. But in this, my friend’s spirits I need to honor.”
A grin curved up against, the grooves in his tusk catching shadows and the light of the fire deepening his wrinkles. “You may. But that is all I shall give in this.”
With a nod, she took the handle. As she pulled the dagger to her, the blade deepened into black and the runes and the language of old Zandali now took their place, curving on it. For a moment, she could see Legba in the reflection of the dark edge. He winked at her, before the image was gone. She didn’t need to look up to know that he was no longer there as well.
A shuddering breath wracked through her, a delayed shock seizing her for a moment before she sat down and turned to the fire. She rose her hands again, palms up, and started the rites. “Legba, father of the roads, I ask tonight for your blessing.”
She was fairly certain she heard laughter on the wind.
Finally, after the next blow struck his chin, she pulled back and let her arms relax at her sides. “Enough, this is good.” Before he could say anything (he hadn’t even hit her once, dammit) she started walking towards the bonfires that were being started in the town. Drums had being going on all day, but the new rise of the sound against the red of the sea and sky caused the air to fill and pulse with the beat. He took a deep breath and felt the air sweep off the sea as he examined his mother.
He hardly knew her. It struck him how much this was true. By the traditions, she was worthless, a adulteress and one who abandoned her family. He knew why she had slept with his true father though, he had used his and Sinkalip’s spying skills to sneak around and find out. He had been lucky that gossip ran rampant. There was true affection, but the truth was that with her husband no child had been coming. The blame for this is always on the woman, so she risked her reputation to receive a child. He supposed she didn’t regret it, it was with the man she loved. And though he had a black mark on him since a child due to the drama surrounding his parents, that helped sooth his mind. Oh, he had been angry about it. When younger. But although still bitter he had achieved some peace. It wasn’t worth it to tear his mind over how unfair it was when it simply was, and that was that.
His mother… she didn’t look motherly. Whipcord muscles and scars scattered across her body, the same calm orange eyes as him, the same blunt features. He had his father’s hair and overlong ears, but that was about it. He had been thinking about punishing her for her absence with biting remarks and long silences, but seeing her… he couldn’t help but think she was punished by fate enough. And that had him satisfied.
“Tsis’tu?”
His ears twitched as he came out of his thoughts. “Yes, mother?”
She tilted her head towards him, her eyes sizing him up, weighing him. “Do you plan to join the Horde soon?”
“In a year or two. The island needs to be rebuilt first.” He gave a shrug.
“Yes, that is good. I… I plan to stay, for awhile. Sassaba needs a place to stay, and Isondo will soon leave. I shall stay.” Her tone was hesitant, eyes watching for his reaction. He shrugged again. He could hear the undertones, how she wanted to spend more time with him (not that he minded, he could use some training) and both knew how hard it would be.
“Do what you wish, I will not protest.”
Her lips twitched into a small smile.
————————————-
Isondo got off the bat, feeling her legs wobble as she collapsed on the ground and started whimpering. How did these little half-trolls manage to fly these things? She shuddered. Frogs that hadn’t been thrown let out croaks from the bag as she staggered to her feet, ignoring the laughter and amused looks from some trolls near by. Stars were starting to come out on the horizon.
She straightened her back and shoved the bag at the nearest person, marching off towards the stables. After growling her way past some of the keepers, she slipped into the stall of Mahak.
He lay there, a blue glow pouring out of his mouth and his bright eyes looking at her sleepily. One of the few uncursed sons of Harkoa and Loque’nahak. A blessing. It was said only those hunter’s that were favored by the spirits would be able to tame one, and this was the one reason she had not tried to kill or flee from Dzie’wanna. To tame a child of the two was something to respect.
She sat down, stroking the head of the cat as he purred and curled up around her. She remembered Harkoa, back in Zul’Drak. The beautiful snow leopard was the loa she paid homage to, her chosen one to worship. Loa were jealous of their followers, after all. She loved this creature, the reminder of home and of the ice and snow, and of the power of the Drakkari. She remembered binding long, bleached strands of leather around her arms, the paws cut from one of the older cats laying as gloves over her hands, a painted mask covering her face as she and other maidens dances in the first snow. The celebration of the maiden of ice was a dance balanced with ferocity and and elegance, a worthy dance. Many men would use the time to spot out woman who they might want as mates, though they could not ask until they had proven themselves over the hard winter.
Du’roo had watched her, that night. When her feet were slicing into the snow and each flake catching in her hair. Her mother was sure that he would prove himself, and he would come to her with a offer of marriage. He had been proud, strong. She did not let herself think of his fate, of how he was one of the first to fall to the Scourge. Nor did she let herself remember how in the next year, in the first snowfall, Harkoa had been chained and nearing her end.
She simply lay back against the stable wall, the warmth of the creature and of her memories before the ice became cold lulling her into sleep.
————————————-
Sassaba was enjoying herself. Quetz’le had picked her up and had let her eat a ton of coconuts, and now her eyes slid heavily shut as she was carried back and laid down on the mat in the tent, him chuckling as he ruffled her short hair and told her to sleep. She saw him walk out, back into the night to help prepare for the last events of the war, and her eyes shut dreaming about chasing frogs and playing in the ocean.
She think she liked it here. Even if the other kids were a little stupid.
————————————
Tsis’tu was now asleep, and Dzie’wanna was standing by the beach as the stars filled the sky. War paint covered her face, her body still feeling the beat of the dance of the spirits. She felt it then, the joining of the past and the present, the celebration of those who came before and gave them the blessing. Home.
“Ah, see, I knew you would be out here.”
She looked back over her shoulder and inclined her head at Quetz’le as he walked up to her. He came to stand beside her, a smile curving up around his tusks.
“The battle starts tomorrow, are you ready?”
“I have missed the march on the citadel of the Lich King for this. I am ready, Quetz’le.”
He looked at her, examining her features before his hand fell on her shoulder. “You chose us then.”
Dzie’wanna looked out over the sea, the islands standing in the distance. She thought she could see them for a moment, the spirits of the past. Her friends, Heighth, Beast, and Fleighth. The three Tauren who took her under their wing when she was fighting for the Horde in Feralis and the Barrens. She had taken up their ways, their religion, and many other things to fill in the hole that leaving her tribe behind had left. They had each passed on. Heighth, the hunter who had shown her strength, he had died first in The Outlands. Bleeding to death from a Alliance attack in Nagrand. Beast (not his true name, but one affectionately given by friends and allies), also a hunter and one who was her closest friend, the one who she was often paired for missions with, died in Northrend. He only made it so far as Dragonblight, felled by the Scourge. Fleighth, who was a druid, died on the grounds of Wintergrasp, by Alliance.
She had sacrificed a chance at revenge at the home of the Lich King to serve her people. But her son was here, and although she had left him in body she had never left her thoughts of him. The time had come to take up her tribe again, and to take the burdens that came with it.
“Will you come back to rest tonight?”
Dzie’wanna shook her head, deep in thought. “No, I need to do my own consulting with the spirits. I must be right with them before tomorrow dawns.”
Quetz’le gave a nod, and leaned over, allowing his tusks to rest on her shoulder in a moment of affection. “See you on the battlefield, then.”
As he walked away, Dzie’wanna started her own trek outside the village. Following the shore, picking up any brush she came across, she eventually reached to a small grove of trees and started snapping some leaves and branches off them. She stacked the materials and took out her flint and steel. A few solid strikes had the brush catch flame. Sitting back on her heels, her eyes watched the sparks catch as the moon shone brightly on the sand. The fire was not for light. Tonight, Mu’sha was bright enough to have the trees paint stark shadows, the mountains in the distance looking strange for their own crevices being cast deeper in the light.
For awhile she sat there, breathing in the ocean and fire, feeling the sand between her fingers and grinding into her heels, having the breeze attempt to move her thick braids. Then, her hands rose, the palms facing upward as she spoke.
“Earth Mother, I ask-”
“Eeeehhhh? What is this, young one? Have you forgotten your way?”
Dzie’wanna’s muscles snapped to attention, her neck tensing as one hand sought her dagger and she whirled around, one knee on the ground with the other leg ready to push off with it’s foot forward on the ground. Standing right where the firelight started to grow weak was a man, a troll of great age who’s wrinkles seemed to fold on themselves. His tusks were small, but had runes and the old Zandali language carved into every inch. His white hair was made into many small braids, some falling in front of his ears and framing his face. Clenched between his front teeth was a ornate pipe that was painted to look like a snake. The strangest thing of him, however, was his sleek deep blue fur, darker than any troll’s she had seen, and the yellow eyes that had a glow to them. Recognizable as a troll’s eyes, the pupil easily seen, but the light was there nonetheless.
Her hands fell to the ground as she bowed, her limbs shaking. Any troll who had been raised with the stories of the loa knew who this was. “Legba, lord of many roads, why-”
He laughed, his wrinkles moving as he stepped closer. The beaded leather outfit, dancing with designs and fringe that gave movement around his mostly bare arms, caught the light in each bead and made it to look like it held stars. He grinned down at the shaking troll. “You know, I am glad to see you here Dzie’wanna, daughter of no one, master of beasts. It is about time things start coming into place.”
She looked up, watching as he sat down in front of her with no little awe. Though it was not unheard of for the Loa to visit on the trolls, especially those who served them (in fact, among the more powerful priests, if you had not at least had one vision of a loa you were considered cursed in whispers) it was something that was not usual. “May I ask-”
“Eh, stop with all this ‘may’ and ‘lord’ and such. Good for ceremonies, but you were starting another. Which although I don’t mind as much as others that you serve the Earth Mother, well, that being the reason I am here instead of another, I do mind that you did not call on me before her this night.” He puffed on his pipe, a white cloud raising and curling on itself before it disappeared into the night.
Legba was one of the most sociable of the Hunter loa. Of the Shadow Hunter pantheon, as the loa of speed and crossroads, he knew both battle and wisdom. She took a deep breath, wondering if he would cut her off again, before speaking.
“I am sorry, Legba, and ask your forgiveness.” It was all she could say. To be visited by this loa was amazing enough, she did not want to cause any animosity, nor cause any curse to come upon her.
He gave a laugh. “Still so formal! Tell me, you only half mean it, yes? There is still scars on you, Dzie’wanna. You felt abandoned by your tribe long before you were married, long before you left. And you felt abandoned by the loa, even if your prayers were never meant in the first place.” He smiled down at her, a twinkle in his eye as he shook his head in humor. “But, this is your crossroads. You have chosen to stay in the tribe again. This will not be a easy path, Dzie’wanna. Should you take it with only half a heart, should you still cling first to your learned Tauren ways, you will fail and leave yet again. And perhaps die in the Barrens, in a blast of fire.”
She swallowed, wondering if he meant by mage, cannon, shaman or warlock. She stayed quiet as he examined her, his face becoming serious.
“But there is another path. Should you take it, you will die as well Dzie’wanna. But it will be a more fulfilling death, and take place later in life. Although you will not be marked as a hero, not remembered in legends, you will be known by those you teach.” He knelt by her, and reached over and took the dagger from it’s sheath. Throwing it the air, it spun before he caught the blade between two thick fingers. “This path… is one of the Shadow Hunter. I do not ask you to stop believing in Tauren rights, but your worship shall be to me, and your rights will be to me. Although many loa are loosening their way in this out of need, with you I will not.” He held the dagger out, the handle for her to grab. “Do you accept?”
Her hands shook as her thoughts tumbled together. She knew what this meant. For a moment, she thought of her friend’s and their deaths. Of her family and the life she now had. “Would… when visitng my friend’s graves, may I pay honor in the way of the Earth Mother? In all else I will follow and be glad to do so. But in this, my friend’s spirits I need to honor.”
A grin curved up against, the grooves in his tusk catching shadows and the light of the fire deepening his wrinkles. “You may. But that is all I shall give in this.”
With a nod, she took the handle. As she pulled the dagger to her, the blade deepened into black and the runes and the language of old Zandali now took their place, curving on it. For a moment, she could see Legba in the reflection of the dark edge. He winked at her, before the image was gone. She didn’t need to look up to know that he was no longer there as well.
A shuddering breath wracked through her, a delayed shock seizing her for a moment before she sat down and turned to the fire. She rose her hands again, palms up, and started the rites. “Legba, father of the roads, I ask tonight for your blessing.”
She was fairly certain she heard laughter on the wind.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Echo Isles: Regaining Home - part 2
Dzie’wanna’s eyes slid open as the first rays of the sun skimmed over the waves and beach, hitting the tend and sneaking through the crack between ground and cloth on the floor. She looked at Quetz’le, still sleeping, and felt a insanely wide grin stretch and pull at her face until she was smiling like a fool. For a moment, she let herself enjoy it before thoughts came full circle and informed her that more important things should be thought of. For one, she would have to show some deference to the elders, though that wasn’t a pleasant thought. As Quetz’le had said, she had left because she would have been more miserable if she had stayed those six years ago. She could still remember, walking over the broken plates of Durotat, the moon still out and her husband just buried. It had felt like freedom that night, no longer having to worry about what was the womanly thing to do or what was best for the tribe.
Of course, there had been hard times. Things did not get better until three years later when fighting alongside the Tauren at Camp Turajo in the Barrens. There she had met her good friends, common spirits, who she had fought with for the next three years. It was as if things were coming all around, a full circle that was whole and filling in the blanks. Leaving, finding bits of herself, and coming back to find more of herself.
Her fingers brushed against the small doll-like totem, still around Quetz’le’s neck on the old string. It had been a gift from her after her father had told her her time of training was at a end. The fact that Quetz’le kept it all this time… She gave a small sigh as her three fingers spread across the chest of Quetz’le, her palm pressed against where his heart was. She had been selfish, of course. But so had he back then.
Hearing sounds of drums, Dzie’wanna sat up and got dressed, quickly winding the bandages around her chest and arms before sliding on her leather pants and ankle guards. Today wasn’t yet ready for full battle gear, and she preferred to not wear the heavy mail when it wasn’t required. It felt suffocating, odd to wear such solid and cumbersome gear.
She rolled her neck and shoulders, then pulled aside the flaps of the tent to head out. Her foot, about to take a step forward, stopped in mid air and slowly put itself back beside her other one. Standing in front of the tent with his arms crossed and a viscious look in his eyes was Tsistu. A moment of silence passed as they looked at each other, her taking in the changes that had happened over the last six years, and him just glaring at her.
“So, first thing you do is sleep with my teacher when you’re back, huh? Not even visit dad’s grave, or me?” He spat out, ending the silence as he jutted out his tusks and ground his teeth. Dzie’wanna stilled, her shoulders rising and her face falling into her normal passively stern expression. Before she could speak, she heard a groan and a couple mumbles from behind her.
“Ah, Tsistu. How are you this morning?”
Dzie’wanna’s shoulder twitched, trying to reing in either laughter or the need to punch Quetz’le. Tsistu turned his glare to Quetz’le.
“Is that all you have to say? After sleeping with my mother and not even informing me that she was here? Oh, sure, let’s ignore the son that she abandoned years ago! It’s a lot easier that way, isn’t it?”
Quetz’le looked at Dzie’wanna, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t go to see your son first?”
“I did not mean to stay here that long.” She shifted her weight from her right to left foot, changing her posture. He moaned as he rubbed his temples, then he looked up at Tsistu.
“Come back in a couple minutes. I will be dressed at that point and be better to talk. And honestly my little frog, you need to think stuff through a little more.”
Tsistu turned his back and sat down in front of the door flap as Dzie’wanna gave a nod towards Quetz’le. She then pulled her mouth into a strange pout and pucker, and a smooth whistle wove through the air causing both Tsistu’s and Quetz’le’s ears to twitch. Dzie’wanna stepped around Tsistu and into the sun, stretched her arms out, and the next moment a barreling thousand pound beast of fur came barreling at her. The two men stared as the white and blue tiger and Dzie’wanna wrestled on the ground, kicking up some dust and scraping claws into the ground. Quetz’le just muttered, shook his head, and closed the door flap to get dressed.
After a couple minutes the door had opened again and they all were sitting in a circle, the teenager looking grumpy, Quetz’le torn between amusement and annoyance, and Dzie’wanna sitting with the large cat stretched out behind her supporting her back, curled up around her and purring in pure contented joy while both her and it were covered in dust and scrapes.
“Echo needed her morning exercise.” Dzie’wanna said, by way of explanation. “She gets rather anxious when cooped up in one place, and I cannot let her go running around here.” The danger of the Echo Isles was implied.
“Yes yes, that’s fine. I can see you have become a fine hunter. Far beyond old Quetz’le.” He placed a hand over his chest, his expression a perfect mockery of the pain of old age.
Dzie’wanna just blinked. “Of course.”
Tsistu raised his eyebrow in slow motion as an awkward silence landed, Dzie’wanna being oblivious. Then, Quetz’le gave a snort and a loud bark of laughter. “Ah, how I missed your straight forward talk!”
“Great, wonderful. Look, can we focus here?” The white haired youth grit out, crossing his arms and now glowering at everyone in the room, including the cat. Echo just gave him a bored look and yawned at him, her rows of teeth flashing in the room. Tsistu focused his glare at the other two occupants of the room. Quetz’le scratched the back of his head as Dzie’wanna shifted again, agitated, before she looked up at Quetz’le in sudden realization.
“Did you not tell him you are his father?”
Tsistu facepalmed as Quetz’le continued his gesture. Before he could speak, Tsistu drawled out his own response. “Like I couldn’t put two and two together. I realized that when I was ten. I mean, I suspected since I was five, but the point stands that I am not a mind slave. I can think.”
Dzie’wanna gave a nod, looking relieved along with Quetz’le. He shrugged and smiled at Dzie’wanna. “I never told him, but I did treat him like a son. I-”
“You used the excuse that my father died to treat me like I was your son. I know, can we move on to what my lovely mother did?” The vitriol was spat out with such a sarcastic flare, that the bottom’s of the tent almost curled in on itself from it. The two adults stared at him with wide eyes. Dzie’wanna sighed and gave Quetz’le a look, then he stood up and ducked out of the tent. The mother and son sat across from each other.
“Tsistu.” Her eyes met his evenly, searching in the corner’s and nooks and crannies of them before nodding. She shifted, leaning over to pull her pack to her, then ruffled through it. She pulled out a smooth dagger, curved and dulled so that the light didn’t glint off of it. She held it out to him.
“I heard you were training in combat and stealth.”
He stared at the blade, his mouth falling open before he reached out, his hand caressing the blade and brushing against his mother’s palm before wrapping his fingers around the handle. He held it close to himself, looking at the design in awe before looking up at her. “How-?”
“I have kept track of things back here. After three years, my friend’s insisted that I should try and reconnect with my home. I mostly ignored their advice, but I did feel the need to check on you and Quetz’le.” She watched him run a thick calloused finger along the blade, testing the edge and examining the detail of a rabbit in full run stretched out across one side, a snake on the other. “I found it among the ruins of the Witherbark tribe, within the Hinterlands.”
“Thank you.” He said, awkwardly trying to recover from the unexpected gift. He hadn’t expected anything. After all, how many times had his aunt talked about his mother as one who had no heart, who didn’t care? All he had was vague memories of stiff hugs, and a clear memory of her framed by the ocean looking over the horizon with such a look of longing that as a child he had started crying, afraid that the loa of the sea was calling his mother away from him like in the legends.
They sat in silence, peacefully accepting the other’s presence. He usually didn’t like to talk, though he did so with others (a side result was that as he had to talk, he often talked in a bad mood with a good deal of sarcasm involved). Dzie’wanna stood after a few moments, Echo lumbering up on her paws as well, and she pulled out her own dagger. “Do you wish to train?”
_________________
Isondo was not happy. Her mistress had not come back, she was being hit on by perverted teenagers and adults alike, and the sea salt in the air had made her hair frizz out in a purple matt down her back. Sassaba was bouncing around, wanting to look for their lady (and oh loa, she was calling the jungle whelp lady! In her mind! She did not want to deal with the maybe a little bit of fondness she might have for the troll woman who rescued her from, no no, who stole her from Northrend. Yes, she had already been captured and was about to be sold, but she had a plan to escape! Maybe. Oh, who was she fooling? Thank goodness she had not met any Drakkari over here yet, she wouldn’t be able to handle the shame).
As yet another troll came up with a lecherous look on his… wait, no, it was a her this time… on her face, Isondo groaned and marched up to one of the commanders in charge of handing out orders. “I will gather frogs, right now! Anything! Please just give me something!”
The troll blinked before grinning and handing her an assignment. Isondo barely glanced at just where she had to go before darting off in the direction needed.
——————————-
*Author’s Talk*
Short one today, will be a looong one next time I post! :D
Of course, there had been hard times. Things did not get better until three years later when fighting alongside the Tauren at Camp Turajo in the Barrens. There she had met her good friends, common spirits, who she had fought with for the next three years. It was as if things were coming all around, a full circle that was whole and filling in the blanks. Leaving, finding bits of herself, and coming back to find more of herself.
Her fingers brushed against the small doll-like totem, still around Quetz’le’s neck on the old string. It had been a gift from her after her father had told her her time of training was at a end. The fact that Quetz’le kept it all this time… She gave a small sigh as her three fingers spread across the chest of Quetz’le, her palm pressed against where his heart was. She had been selfish, of course. But so had he back then.
Hearing sounds of drums, Dzie’wanna sat up and got dressed, quickly winding the bandages around her chest and arms before sliding on her leather pants and ankle guards. Today wasn’t yet ready for full battle gear, and she preferred to not wear the heavy mail when it wasn’t required. It felt suffocating, odd to wear such solid and cumbersome gear.
She rolled her neck and shoulders, then pulled aside the flaps of the tent to head out. Her foot, about to take a step forward, stopped in mid air and slowly put itself back beside her other one. Standing in front of the tent with his arms crossed and a viscious look in his eyes was Tsistu. A moment of silence passed as they looked at each other, her taking in the changes that had happened over the last six years, and him just glaring at her.
“So, first thing you do is sleep with my teacher when you’re back, huh? Not even visit dad’s grave, or me?” He spat out, ending the silence as he jutted out his tusks and ground his teeth. Dzie’wanna stilled, her shoulders rising and her face falling into her normal passively stern expression. Before she could speak, she heard a groan and a couple mumbles from behind her.
“Ah, Tsistu. How are you this morning?”
Dzie’wanna’s shoulder twitched, trying to reing in either laughter or the need to punch Quetz’le. Tsistu turned his glare to Quetz’le.
“Is that all you have to say? After sleeping with my mother and not even informing me that she was here? Oh, sure, let’s ignore the son that she abandoned years ago! It’s a lot easier that way, isn’t it?”
Quetz’le looked at Dzie’wanna, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t go to see your son first?”
“I did not mean to stay here that long.” She shifted her weight from her right to left foot, changing her posture. He moaned as he rubbed his temples, then he looked up at Tsistu.
“Come back in a couple minutes. I will be dressed at that point and be better to talk. And honestly my little frog, you need to think stuff through a little more.”
Tsistu turned his back and sat down in front of the door flap as Dzie’wanna gave a nod towards Quetz’le. She then pulled her mouth into a strange pout and pucker, and a smooth whistle wove through the air causing both Tsistu’s and Quetz’le’s ears to twitch. Dzie’wanna stepped around Tsistu and into the sun, stretched her arms out, and the next moment a barreling thousand pound beast of fur came barreling at her. The two men stared as the white and blue tiger and Dzie’wanna wrestled on the ground, kicking up some dust and scraping claws into the ground. Quetz’le just muttered, shook his head, and closed the door flap to get dressed.
After a couple minutes the door had opened again and they all were sitting in a circle, the teenager looking grumpy, Quetz’le torn between amusement and annoyance, and Dzie’wanna sitting with the large cat stretched out behind her supporting her back, curled up around her and purring in pure contented joy while both her and it were covered in dust and scrapes.
“Echo needed her morning exercise.” Dzie’wanna said, by way of explanation. “She gets rather anxious when cooped up in one place, and I cannot let her go running around here.” The danger of the Echo Isles was implied.
“Yes yes, that’s fine. I can see you have become a fine hunter. Far beyond old Quetz’le.” He placed a hand over his chest, his expression a perfect mockery of the pain of old age.
Dzie’wanna just blinked. “Of course.”
Tsistu raised his eyebrow in slow motion as an awkward silence landed, Dzie’wanna being oblivious. Then, Quetz’le gave a snort and a loud bark of laughter. “Ah, how I missed your straight forward talk!”
“Great, wonderful. Look, can we focus here?” The white haired youth grit out, crossing his arms and now glowering at everyone in the room, including the cat. Echo just gave him a bored look and yawned at him, her rows of teeth flashing in the room. Tsistu focused his glare at the other two occupants of the room. Quetz’le scratched the back of his head as Dzie’wanna shifted again, agitated, before she looked up at Quetz’le in sudden realization.
“Did you not tell him you are his father?”
Tsistu facepalmed as Quetz’le continued his gesture. Before he could speak, Tsistu drawled out his own response. “Like I couldn’t put two and two together. I realized that when I was ten. I mean, I suspected since I was five, but the point stands that I am not a mind slave. I can think.”
Dzie’wanna gave a nod, looking relieved along with Quetz’le. He shrugged and smiled at Dzie’wanna. “I never told him, but I did treat him like a son. I-”
“You used the excuse that my father died to treat me like I was your son. I know, can we move on to what my lovely mother did?” The vitriol was spat out with such a sarcastic flare, that the bottom’s of the tent almost curled in on itself from it. The two adults stared at him with wide eyes. Dzie’wanna sighed and gave Quetz’le a look, then he stood up and ducked out of the tent. The mother and son sat across from each other.
“Tsistu.” Her eyes met his evenly, searching in the corner’s and nooks and crannies of them before nodding. She shifted, leaning over to pull her pack to her, then ruffled through it. She pulled out a smooth dagger, curved and dulled so that the light didn’t glint off of it. She held it out to him.
“I heard you were training in combat and stealth.”
He stared at the blade, his mouth falling open before he reached out, his hand caressing the blade and brushing against his mother’s palm before wrapping his fingers around the handle. He held it close to himself, looking at the design in awe before looking up at her. “How-?”
“I have kept track of things back here. After three years, my friend’s insisted that I should try and reconnect with my home. I mostly ignored their advice, but I did feel the need to check on you and Quetz’le.” She watched him run a thick calloused finger along the blade, testing the edge and examining the detail of a rabbit in full run stretched out across one side, a snake on the other. “I found it among the ruins of the Witherbark tribe, within the Hinterlands.”
“Thank you.” He said, awkwardly trying to recover from the unexpected gift. He hadn’t expected anything. After all, how many times had his aunt talked about his mother as one who had no heart, who didn’t care? All he had was vague memories of stiff hugs, and a clear memory of her framed by the ocean looking over the horizon with such a look of longing that as a child he had started crying, afraid that the loa of the sea was calling his mother away from him like in the legends.
They sat in silence, peacefully accepting the other’s presence. He usually didn’t like to talk, though he did so with others (a side result was that as he had to talk, he often talked in a bad mood with a good deal of sarcasm involved). Dzie’wanna stood after a few moments, Echo lumbering up on her paws as well, and she pulled out her own dagger. “Do you wish to train?”
_________________
Isondo was not happy. Her mistress had not come back, she was being hit on by perverted teenagers and adults alike, and the sea salt in the air had made her hair frizz out in a purple matt down her back. Sassaba was bouncing around, wanting to look for their lady (and oh loa, she was calling the jungle whelp lady! In her mind! She did not want to deal with the maybe a little bit of fondness she might have for the troll woman who rescued her from, no no, who stole her from Northrend. Yes, she had already been captured and was about to be sold, but she had a plan to escape! Maybe. Oh, who was she fooling? Thank goodness she had not met any Drakkari over here yet, she wouldn’t be able to handle the shame).
As yet another troll came up with a lecherous look on his… wait, no, it was a her this time… on her face, Isondo groaned and marched up to one of the commanders in charge of handing out orders. “I will gather frogs, right now! Anything! Please just give me something!”
The troll blinked before grinning and handing her an assignment. Isondo barely glanced at just where she had to go before darting off in the direction needed.
——————————-
*Author’s Talk*
Short one today, will be a looong one next time I post! :D
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Echo Isles: Regaining Home
Isondo walked through the crowds of the runt trolls, these jungle idiots, as the excited and nervous buzz of chatter and preparation filled the air. Her nose wrinkled as she looked around at the huts, the ramshackle buildings that seemed like they couldn't hold against a minor storm, much less a seige. She grit her teeth, thinking of the mighty stone halls of the Drakkari empire, of the elaborate water system, of everything that this backwoods shore town was NOT.
Dzie'wanna dragged her here, of course. When news came about the retaking of the Isles, the call to arms caused her eyes to sharpen and it took less than a day for everything to be packed and them to be on their way to Sen'jin. Now she was off talking strategy with a old commander while Sassaba chased frogs, and Isondo wandering around and sulking.
She was about to start listing all the ways this Darkspear town was inferior (then move on to how the Darkspear themselves were inferior) but was interrupted as a young troll swaggered in front of her, a wide grin being made almost ridiculous by his up-curving tusks, giving his smile an illusion of greater size.
"May I help you?" Her nose rose in the air as she eyed him, wanting nothing more than to smack this little bug out of the way.
"Yes lady, hope you don't mind but may I ask; you were the one to come in with Dzie'wanna, right?" His grin widened and became mischievous as he leaned forward, his eyes taking a leisurely stroll up and down her person.
She was about to ask how one so young could be so perverted, when she realized that of course the Darkspear were smaller already, and skinny, so the runt was probably already a teenager. Wonderful. "Yes, she is my Mistress." She bit out. She knew she couldn't fudge the words around here, as she had to show that there was a very good reason not to mess with her.
"Great! She's my Aunt, you know. I just wanted to make sure you see." His grin and light tone sounded perfectly pleasant, but something about him made her take notice at the young one. She sized him up, his orange hair pulled back in a large thick braid while his ears seemed a little longer then normal, all giving him a rather knobbly look that reminded her of the child giraffes in Sholazar Basin. He could probably be convinced to give her useful information.
"So, you know her well then?" Her question was light, but her thoughts turning to think of all the use she could have of such info. The runt's grin turned into a smirk, leaving her feeling like she had just taken the bait.
"Of course."
"You would be willing to tell me about her, then?" Her tone became hard as she leveled a glare at him.
"Oh, definitely. For a price."
For awhile she just glared at him while his eyes laughed at her, and finally she bit out, making sure each words was sharp- "And what would that price be?"
"A kiss." He said.
"A kiss." She deadpanned.
After a bit of a stare-down, she crossed her arms and gestured towards the little place between two palm trees and a small hut. "Very well. You tell me first, and I will give you a kiss."
He walked over in smug confidence, and shortly after sitting down Isondo started her first question. "So, tell me about all her family and her relationship with them." No one had ever told Isondo that she was subtle.
------
A young troll teen sat on the roof of the large market hut, hidden between the branches of a tree and the cleft of a the straw roof. He fiddled with some malachite, a gift from some adventurer who had no need for it, and was now trying to find a way to secure it to some twisted leaves, wood, and rocks that looked vaguely like a doll. His white hair stuck up with the bangs falling in his face, and along with his pale blue fur stirred from the strong wind coming off the ocean. He sighed, his orange eyes gazing at the gems with a annoyed look.
"Tsistu, guess what I know?" A swaggering voice practically crowed out, causing him to look over his shoulder at the other teenager scrambling towards him like a cat. Tsistu was about to follow along with the question before seeing the other boy's face, a large bruise blossoming on his cheek.
"What in the name of voodoo happened to you?"
The orange haired troll just grinned, looking a little dreamy. "I got a kiss."
The other boy just stared, before slowly replying. "No, you got punched. Unless your a little dense and fell into something."
The boy just smirked and pointed at the bruise that was actually showing through his greenish-blue fuzz. "It's how Drakkari woman kiss." His chest puffed up with pride.
Tsistu just pinched the bridge of his nose between two large fingers. "Let me guess, that is what she told you."
"Ya!"
"Sin-ka-lip," Tsistu said, each syllable stretched out with condescension. "You are a idiot."
Sinkalip just huffed as he lay back on the roof. "Well, I am a idiot who knows something you don't know."
"And what is that?" Tsistu asked, finally digging the gems to the wood he had, securing it with rusted wires.
"Your mom's here."
The doll was dropped, it tumbling off the roof before landing in the dirt.
-----
"Sir." Dzie'wanna saluted to the grizzled old commander, a hunter with his eyes graying with age and blindness. The man angled his face to peer at her, before a slow smile grew on his lips.
"Ah, Dzie'wanna. How is my little frog?"
Dzie'wanna relaxed from her stiff pose, allowing her her shoulders to roll off the tension at the kind greeting. "I am well, Revered Hunter."
He huffed out laugh before waving her closer, shaking his head in good humor. "Quetz'le to you, little one. And do not lie, I can hear the weight in your voice."
Dzie'wanna inclined her head, admitting his point as her eyes shifted around the old tent. "It has been awhile."
"It has. But that is your fault, I believe. Not that I can blame ya." He motioned to a mat as he took his place on the one across from it. "Denying your mate's demand to stay would not have recommended you back to the tribe."
Dzie'wanna remained silent, her eyes on the dirt of the floor. There was tension in her shoulders again. With a sigh, the troll man stood up before walking to her side, seating himself beside her with a grumble. "You were always stubborn."
"I had to."
"You had to leave?" He asked, looking vaguely amused again. Her eyes darted up at him before going back to the floor.
"...I regret it, though."
His eyes sharpened at her before he smacked her lightly on the back of the head. "You shouldn't! Because if you took the other you would have died from misery. You know that, so don't regret. And besides, now you are back home, among your tribe, and very few would deny your place after the wars you fought, especially now while you are aiding to bring the fall of Zalazane."
She rubbed the back of her head slowly, before looking up at him. The shadows of the tent and the light coming through the cracks played across his face, old but not ancient. Her stomach twisted a bit, feeling the words get jumbled in her mouth. Finally she fumbled out. "Time has passed."
He sighed. "There you go, jumping from topic to topic again. Eh, it's why I like you I suppose. You don't jabber on like some people." He gave laugh, lightening up the atmosphere. "And yes, it has. My eyes are failing and I even have wrinkles now, of all things! Ah, I used to be more handsome then this." He bemoaned, causing Dzie'wanna's lips to quirk.
She paused for a second, her eyes looking at the scars around her arms and stomach, not having to look to know her roughly hewed face with the broken tusk. She felt a sad weight settle on her chest as she answered. "I have gone from plain to scarred and plain, while you are still as handsome as ever. A little older but-"
"Time really has passed." He said, looking at her softly as he brushed a braid over her shoulder. "There was a time you couldn't speak any compliments towards me without your throat closing up." A touch of amusement, and her eyes smiled back at him.
A companionable silence passed in the hut, their eyes speaking to one another before he sighed and lay his heavy hand on her cheek. "There is much I regret as well. I was much to worried about my own status back then, that I allowed that young fool to demand marriage from your father. I should have killed him and claimed you for myself."
She stared back at him, and then a smile grew across her face wide and bright. A question had finally been answered. "I am glad at least one loved me then."
"Dzie'wanna..."
She laid her hand over his, keeping it there. "You know as well as I do that he only married me because of my father. It was well known that more nights of his were spent in other's houses then our own. Which is why-"
He interrupted her, leaning his forehead against hers and angled his face so his tusks rested on the sides of her neck. "I should have just kidnapped you. Your father would have been so happy that such a older man like me wanted you, that he would have killed the fool himself."
Dzie'wanna sighed, feeling things click into place after a long time. Questions, fears, were settling down. She still remembered that night, the night that her mate had died after a attempt at Zalazane, slowly being killed from poison as he lay in their tent. He had demanded that she not leave, not leave to go with the horde and train. He had seen her eyeing the bow, practicing here and there when she thought no one was looking. He had been furious that night, at her silence, at her strangeness.
"He said that you did not care for me."
"He knew about us?" The surprise colored Quetz'le voice as his eyes opened to look at her.
"He guessed. He was angry that night, allowing his rage to control his words. A woman is supposed to be faithful, after all. Even when her mate isn't. It was one of the reasons I left. Not the main one, but one reason. So few loved me that I do not think I could have lived should you have been another one."
He let out a low hum as they sat there. With a chuckle, he let his other hand trail along some of the scars of her arm. "You have gotten stronger. And your way of speaking even stranger. So formal..." His tone had turned flirtatious, trying to dismiss the heavy conversation. When she looked at him, he fished out a necklace that was hanging by a rough rope. On it, was a roughly made doll of wood, stone, leaves and gems and worn from age.
Her three fingers picked it up, looking at it before looking up at him, her eyes almost pained in the amount of affection.
"I am a old man, Dzie'wanna. I do not expect much. I missed you, but I do not expect you to stay. I shall enjoy the time we have."
No words were spoken for the rest of the evening.
-----
Sassaba grumbled as she stumbled around as the sun set on the first day of preparations. Her hands were slimy from the frogs that she was gathering for spying, her feet and legs tired from trying to run in this sand, and she could feel dried salt stuck in her short hair which just made it more prickly then usual.
It sucked. This place was awful, and though the ocean was pretty that appreciation faded when she got pushed in it for the fifth time by some troll brats. And she couldn't help it if her Zandali was bad! They didn't have to make fun of her for it: At least she knew Zandali in the first place!
As she walked around, trying to find Isondo or Lady Dizzy, her eyes landed on something shiny being struck by the dying sun. She quickly trotted over, and bent down to pick it up. It was a doll, she thought happily. Rough and slightly silly looking, with shredded leaves propped up to look like hair, but a doll nonetheless. She looked around, making sure no one was looking, before hugging it to her chest. "Your name is now Zuggy, and you are my new best friend."
"Sassaba! Brat! Come on, the tent is set up a little ways out there."
Her head pulled up to look at Isondo, shocked at the cheerful voice. Isondo was preening, a gloating look solidly placed on her features.
"Comin'!"
------------
-Writer's time-
So, a couple interesting things happened here. It was supposed to be a lot more fast paced, but I think that will come in tomorrow's post. Some interesting twists are in store!
Not that interesting twists weren't here as well. Like the freakin' 'she had a lover thing'. No, that surprised me as well. It was writing itself at that point, and suddenly some things about Dzie'wanna just clicked into place. Veeerry interesting. Well, that explains why she hasn't been interested in much of anyone. /blinks
A lot of this was to set up introductions to future plots. Tsistu and Sinkalip will be two alts in Cataclysm, a rogue and a druid respectively. I have been toying with the idea about Tsistu being Dzie'wanna's son, and finally decided to go with it. Let's see where that takes us. Feel free to leave comments to let me know if I am making a terrible mistake! :D
Oh, and quick age table-
Dzie'wanna: 31
Isondo: 18
Sassaba: 12
Tsistu: 14
Sinkalip: 15
Quetz'le: 52
Yes, Quetz'le and Dzie'wanna are very far apart. But this isn't happy perfect fairytale land, and they are a tribal society (which in many cases has younger/older couples) and is in a fantasy/medieval-esque world (where 50 year old kings would marry 15 year old girls).
As for Dzie'wanna's timetable, by age:
8-14 : trained under Quetz'le with other children to learn hunting and survival skills. (my guess is that all trolls are trained for survival while young, by when they reach 'adulthood' or are married the girls then go to do 'womanly duties'.)
15 : Was mated to her husband.
17 : Had Tsistu.
25 : Joined the Horde Military/Mate Died
Dzie'wanna dragged her here, of course. When news came about the retaking of the Isles, the call to arms caused her eyes to sharpen and it took less than a day for everything to be packed and them to be on their way to Sen'jin. Now she was off talking strategy with a old commander while Sassaba chased frogs, and Isondo wandering around and sulking.
She was about to start listing all the ways this Darkspear town was inferior (then move on to how the Darkspear themselves were inferior) but was interrupted as a young troll swaggered in front of her, a wide grin being made almost ridiculous by his up-curving tusks, giving his smile an illusion of greater size.
"May I help you?" Her nose rose in the air as she eyed him, wanting nothing more than to smack this little bug out of the way.
"Yes lady, hope you don't mind but may I ask; you were the one to come in with Dzie'wanna, right?" His grin widened and became mischievous as he leaned forward, his eyes taking a leisurely stroll up and down her person.
She was about to ask how one so young could be so perverted, when she realized that of course the Darkspear were smaller already, and skinny, so the runt was probably already a teenager. Wonderful. "Yes, she is my Mistress." She bit out. She knew she couldn't fudge the words around here, as she had to show that there was a very good reason not to mess with her.
"Great! She's my Aunt, you know. I just wanted to make sure you see." His grin and light tone sounded perfectly pleasant, but something about him made her take notice at the young one. She sized him up, his orange hair pulled back in a large thick braid while his ears seemed a little longer then normal, all giving him a rather knobbly look that reminded her of the child giraffes in Sholazar Basin. He could probably be convinced to give her useful information.
"So, you know her well then?" Her question was light, but her thoughts turning to think of all the use she could have of such info. The runt's grin turned into a smirk, leaving her feeling like she had just taken the bait.
"Of course."
"You would be willing to tell me about her, then?" Her tone became hard as she leveled a glare at him.
"Oh, definitely. For a price."
For awhile she just glared at him while his eyes laughed at her, and finally she bit out, making sure each words was sharp- "And what would that price be?"
"A kiss." He said.
"A kiss." She deadpanned.
After a bit of a stare-down, she crossed her arms and gestured towards the little place between two palm trees and a small hut. "Very well. You tell me first, and I will give you a kiss."
He walked over in smug confidence, and shortly after sitting down Isondo started her first question. "So, tell me about all her family and her relationship with them." No one had ever told Isondo that she was subtle.
------
A young troll teen sat on the roof of the large market hut, hidden between the branches of a tree and the cleft of a the straw roof. He fiddled with some malachite, a gift from some adventurer who had no need for it, and was now trying to find a way to secure it to some twisted leaves, wood, and rocks that looked vaguely like a doll. His white hair stuck up with the bangs falling in his face, and along with his pale blue fur stirred from the strong wind coming off the ocean. He sighed, his orange eyes gazing at the gems with a annoyed look.
"Tsistu, guess what I know?" A swaggering voice practically crowed out, causing him to look over his shoulder at the other teenager scrambling towards him like a cat. Tsistu was about to follow along with the question before seeing the other boy's face, a large bruise blossoming on his cheek.
"What in the name of voodoo happened to you?"
The orange haired troll just grinned, looking a little dreamy. "I got a kiss."
The other boy just stared, before slowly replying. "No, you got punched. Unless your a little dense and fell into something."
The boy just smirked and pointed at the bruise that was actually showing through his greenish-blue fuzz. "It's how Drakkari woman kiss." His chest puffed up with pride.
Tsistu just pinched the bridge of his nose between two large fingers. "Let me guess, that is what she told you."
"Ya!"
"Sin-ka-lip," Tsistu said, each syllable stretched out with condescension. "You are a idiot."
Sinkalip just huffed as he lay back on the roof. "Well, I am a idiot who knows something you don't know."
"And what is that?" Tsistu asked, finally digging the gems to the wood he had, securing it with rusted wires.
"Your mom's here."
The doll was dropped, it tumbling off the roof before landing in the dirt.
-----
"Sir." Dzie'wanna saluted to the grizzled old commander, a hunter with his eyes graying with age and blindness. The man angled his face to peer at her, before a slow smile grew on his lips.
"Ah, Dzie'wanna. How is my little frog?"
Dzie'wanna relaxed from her stiff pose, allowing her her shoulders to roll off the tension at the kind greeting. "I am well, Revered Hunter."
He huffed out laugh before waving her closer, shaking his head in good humor. "Quetz'le to you, little one. And do not lie, I can hear the weight in your voice."
Dzie'wanna inclined her head, admitting his point as her eyes shifted around the old tent. "It has been awhile."
"It has. But that is your fault, I believe. Not that I can blame ya." He motioned to a mat as he took his place on the one across from it. "Denying your mate's demand to stay would not have recommended you back to the tribe."
Dzie'wanna remained silent, her eyes on the dirt of the floor. There was tension in her shoulders again. With a sigh, the troll man stood up before walking to her side, seating himself beside her with a grumble. "You were always stubborn."
"I had to."
"You had to leave?" He asked, looking vaguely amused again. Her eyes darted up at him before going back to the floor.
"...I regret it, though."
His eyes sharpened at her before he smacked her lightly on the back of the head. "You shouldn't! Because if you took the other you would have died from misery. You know that, so don't regret. And besides, now you are back home, among your tribe, and very few would deny your place after the wars you fought, especially now while you are aiding to bring the fall of Zalazane."
She rubbed the back of her head slowly, before looking up at him. The shadows of the tent and the light coming through the cracks played across his face, old but not ancient. Her stomach twisted a bit, feeling the words get jumbled in her mouth. Finally she fumbled out. "Time has passed."
He sighed. "There you go, jumping from topic to topic again. Eh, it's why I like you I suppose. You don't jabber on like some people." He gave laugh, lightening up the atmosphere. "And yes, it has. My eyes are failing and I even have wrinkles now, of all things! Ah, I used to be more handsome then this." He bemoaned, causing Dzie'wanna's lips to quirk.
She paused for a second, her eyes looking at the scars around her arms and stomach, not having to look to know her roughly hewed face with the broken tusk. She felt a sad weight settle on her chest as she answered. "I have gone from plain to scarred and plain, while you are still as handsome as ever. A little older but-"
"Time really has passed." He said, looking at her softly as he brushed a braid over her shoulder. "There was a time you couldn't speak any compliments towards me without your throat closing up." A touch of amusement, and her eyes smiled back at him.
A companionable silence passed in the hut, their eyes speaking to one another before he sighed and lay his heavy hand on her cheek. "There is much I regret as well. I was much to worried about my own status back then, that I allowed that young fool to demand marriage from your father. I should have killed him and claimed you for myself."
She stared back at him, and then a smile grew across her face wide and bright. A question had finally been answered. "I am glad at least one loved me then."
"Dzie'wanna..."
She laid her hand over his, keeping it there. "You know as well as I do that he only married me because of my father. It was well known that more nights of his were spent in other's houses then our own. Which is why-"
He interrupted her, leaning his forehead against hers and angled his face so his tusks rested on the sides of her neck. "I should have just kidnapped you. Your father would have been so happy that such a older man like me wanted you, that he would have killed the fool himself."
Dzie'wanna sighed, feeling things click into place after a long time. Questions, fears, were settling down. She still remembered that night, the night that her mate had died after a attempt at Zalazane, slowly being killed from poison as he lay in their tent. He had demanded that she not leave, not leave to go with the horde and train. He had seen her eyeing the bow, practicing here and there when she thought no one was looking. He had been furious that night, at her silence, at her strangeness.
"He said that you did not care for me."
"He knew about us?" The surprise colored Quetz'le voice as his eyes opened to look at her.
"He guessed. He was angry that night, allowing his rage to control his words. A woman is supposed to be faithful, after all. Even when her mate isn't. It was one of the reasons I left. Not the main one, but one reason. So few loved me that I do not think I could have lived should you have been another one."
He let out a low hum as they sat there. With a chuckle, he let his other hand trail along some of the scars of her arm. "You have gotten stronger. And your way of speaking even stranger. So formal..." His tone had turned flirtatious, trying to dismiss the heavy conversation. When she looked at him, he fished out a necklace that was hanging by a rough rope. On it, was a roughly made doll of wood, stone, leaves and gems and worn from age.
Her three fingers picked it up, looking at it before looking up at him, her eyes almost pained in the amount of affection.
"I am a old man, Dzie'wanna. I do not expect much. I missed you, but I do not expect you to stay. I shall enjoy the time we have."
No words were spoken for the rest of the evening.
-----
Sassaba grumbled as she stumbled around as the sun set on the first day of preparations. Her hands were slimy from the frogs that she was gathering for spying, her feet and legs tired from trying to run in this sand, and she could feel dried salt stuck in her short hair which just made it more prickly then usual.
It sucked. This place was awful, and though the ocean was pretty that appreciation faded when she got pushed in it for the fifth time by some troll brats. And she couldn't help it if her Zandali was bad! They didn't have to make fun of her for it: At least she knew Zandali in the first place!
As she walked around, trying to find Isondo or Lady Dizzy, her eyes landed on something shiny being struck by the dying sun. She quickly trotted over, and bent down to pick it up. It was a doll, she thought happily. Rough and slightly silly looking, with shredded leaves propped up to look like hair, but a doll nonetheless. She looked around, making sure no one was looking, before hugging it to her chest. "Your name is now Zuggy, and you are my new best friend."
"Sassaba! Brat! Come on, the tent is set up a little ways out there."
Her head pulled up to look at Isondo, shocked at the cheerful voice. Isondo was preening, a gloating look solidly placed on her features.
"Comin'!"
------------
-Writer's time-
So, a couple interesting things happened here. It was supposed to be a lot more fast paced, but I think that will come in tomorrow's post. Some interesting twists are in store!
Not that interesting twists weren't here as well. Like the freakin' 'she had a lover thing'. No, that surprised me as well. It was writing itself at that point, and suddenly some things about Dzie'wanna just clicked into place. Veeerry interesting. Well, that explains why she hasn't been interested in much of anyone. /blinks
A lot of this was to set up introductions to future plots. Tsistu and Sinkalip will be two alts in Cataclysm, a rogue and a druid respectively. I have been toying with the idea about Tsistu being Dzie'wanna's son, and finally decided to go with it. Let's see where that takes us. Feel free to leave comments to let me know if I am making a terrible mistake! :D
Oh, and quick age table-
Dzie'wanna: 31
Isondo: 18
Sassaba: 12
Tsistu: 14
Sinkalip: 15
Quetz'le: 52
Yes, Quetz'le and Dzie'wanna are very far apart. But this isn't happy perfect fairytale land, and they are a tribal society (which in many cases has younger/older couples) and is in a fantasy/medieval-esque world (where 50 year old kings would marry 15 year old girls).
As for Dzie'wanna's timetable, by age:
8-14 : trained under Quetz'le with other children to learn hunting and survival skills. (my guess is that all trolls are trained for survival while young, by when they reach 'adulthood' or are married the girls then go to do 'womanly duties'.)
15 : Was mated to her husband.
17 : Had Tsistu.
25 : Joined the Horde Military/Mate Died
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Just another day...
It had long since been drilled into Dzie'wanna to wake up before the crack of dawn, when the dew still was on the sparse blades of the barrens. Even now with her off duty her eyes would slide quickly open at time it was supposed to, and she would go about her morning duties.
Such it had been many mornings in the past, and so it would have been this morning had not Dzie'wanna's newest member of the house decided to show her displeasure. Her eyes snapped open as ice cold water splashed over her head. Staring in shock into the bottom of a bucket, her mind snapped into place as drilled instincts took over. Within two beats, the person who held the bucket was pinned to the ground and stuck a headlock with a snarling Dzie'wanna blocking their wind pipe.
"Lady Dizzy! Lady Dizzy, let go of Isondo!" A little Orc child scrambled out of their bunk, awoken by the noise, and tumbled down to the floor. Landing on their butt with a 'oomph', she scrambled forward and started tugging at the Dzie'wanna's arm that wrapped around the other's neck. With a huff Dzie'wanna stood and glared down at the other troll, a young woman still in their teenage years. She then stormed out of the hut, taking only a moment to sweep up the bucket into her hand on her way out.
Silence lasted a little while longer in the house as Isondo coughed and wheezed to regain her breath, with Sassaba patting her on her back soothingly. "There there, it's alright. You just can't startle Lady Dizzy like that." The child puffed her chest up in pride as she continued. "Lady Dizzy is so well trained, that anything like that would of course cause her senses to attack! She is a true warrior of the Horde." She gave a firm nod, before shrinking back a bit at the glare she was being given by the young troll. "I'm... I'm gonna go help Lady Dizzy feed the raptors." Within seconds she was running out the door, calling after Dzie'wanna.
Isondo continued to sit on the floor as she calmed her breathing, her violet hair falling about in rough strands scratching at her face. She pulled back her lips in a sneer as her blue hand punched the floor. It had been nothing but a simple prank, did she really deserve such treatment? How dare the jungle whelp! One from such a weakling tribe that still followed the Zandalar, one who wasn't even performing her proper duties in her tribe, one who was so ugly! How dare she raise a hand against her, the daughter of an empire.
Sitting there, stewing in her anger, Isondo wished that she was back in her home, where ice would always be on the ground and none of this blasted heat, not stuck with a troll women who was living in the middle of such Loa-forsaken lands, and no strange green children with tusks that came out the wrong row of teeth.
Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall the coolness of her home, the frigid peaks and water that wasn't luke-warm unless treated with arcane ice. It was one of the few reasons she picked up studying such unwomanly things, for only the arcane could even call up the slightest chill here during the day.
Hearing her name being called by the jungle whelp, Isondo arranged her face in a well-practiced look of disdain before smoothing out her clothes with the flat of her hands and striding out the door. Immediately a bucket shoved it's way into her arms. From the chips of ice still swollen into the cracks, it could be identified as the tool in this morning's mischief.
Dzie'wanna leveled her gaze at the younger troll, before speaking. Her cracked lips rasping against her tusks, one looking like a chunk of it had splintered off. "You are going to feed Mahak." It was a simple command, spoken in their mother tongue, but one that at Isondo's surprised look had Dzie'wanna suppressing a smile. Dzie'wanna was still frustrated at this morning's events, but she had faced more rage-inducing actions from her devilsaur and other pets. To tame someone, to get them to like you, you needed patience in spades when it came to those more stubborn ones.
Isondo gave a haughty sniff, looking down her tusks at Dzie'wanna before marching off towards where Mahak's sleeping place was. Dzie'wanna let out a sigh as she turned around and went back to mucking out the hatchling pen, while Sassaba chased after the darting hatchling to try and round the final baby up. Making a bold dive, she was able to catch hold of it's tail and let out a cry of triumph as the little raptor let out a startled squawk.
"Lady Dizzy, Lady Dizzy! Look, I caught her!" Sassaba scrambled to stand, her clothes stained with mud as she proudly held the squirming hatchling up for inspection. Dzie'wanna gave a slow smile and reached out to pet first the raptor, then the girl on the head.
"Joo did good, Sassaba. Now, go put 'im wid de oddurs." Sassaba gave a happy nod and quickly ran over to the smaller, quickly made pen that was only used when this one was being cleaned. The orc girl ran back and picked up her smaller shovel, and joined Dzie'wanna in the job.
Moments of companionable silence passed, Sassaba long since having learned that her lady was the quiet type. Glancing up at the tall figure of the troll, her wiry muscles covered in scars that caused dips in her fur, and the simple bandages that she tightly wound around her chest for coverage. She was taller then most Darkspear women, standing at over seven feet and more solidly built then many. Sassaba liked to observe her lady, ever since she was assigned as her squire during the Argent Tournament. It had been rare-ish to see a troll competing, as they were so sparsely populated, but it was downright strange to see one striding through the grounds with rugged fur and a large dinosaur marching beside them.
She had been terrified at first, and after following behind her lady on battlefields in Northrend this terror was well well placed. But for the most part her lady tended to be kind and quiet, almost like a big stuffed boar. To her, her lady was the best lady any squire could ever ask for, any gruntling could hope to ever receive. Even though she made weird decisions at times.
"Lady Dizzy-"
"Zandali, Sassaba."
She puffed up her cheeks in annoyance, before continuing on in the weird language that her Lady insisted she learn. She didn't like Zandali, it felt like it slid around in her mouth compared to the rough, sure and solid way of Orc speak. Giving a pout, she continued as she tried to remember the different words. "-Why you...you... why you be keebin'-"
Dzie'wanna interreupted, correcting the pronunciation. "Keeping."
"-Keeping Isondo here. She mean!"
Dzie'wanna's hand came to rest on top of Sassaba's shorn hair, and she gave a little push. Sassaba grinned knowing that this was a sign of approval or affection, though it had been hard to tell at first when she had started to work for the troll. Dzie'wanna switched back to Orcish.
"Ya, she may be dat. But so many be, an' even de most mean beast gotta have a place ta rest."
Sassaba's face dropped as she ducked her head and continued to work, feeling disappointed that the meanie would be staying. Dzie'wanna merely smiled, though a touch of concern and a thoughtful look lingered about her eyes while a tenseness around her mouth strengthened. She then continued her own work. In truth, she wondered often if it was right to bring Isondo here. The purchase of the Drakkari from a slave market was a rather spontaneous decision on her part, mostly having to do with overhearing some rather unsavory plans for the beautiful woman, and having just sold a nice mount to someone so having enough gold in her pocket to do something. Isondo though was about as stubborn as the rhino Loa that her tribe revered, and as temperamental.
However, it had only been a couple weeks since the girl arrived and yet she had already gone from trying to actually do physical harm to these simple pranks. It was certainly a lesson for Dzie'wanna, having someone nearly grown in the house who had quite a few thoughts and constantly challenged her. It troubled her, as it sometimes reminded her too much of some unsavory memories from when she was younger, and it just felt odd. She had tried to be a teacher, like with Sassaba and the few hunter students she had scattered about, but the role that was so easy to take on wasn't wanted or the right role for this case. After failing at stepping in that role with Isondo, she was at a loss at how to approach the teenager. Friend? Equal? Brother-in-arms? Enemy certainly wouldn't do, and so she simply observed for now.
She knew that Isondo liked Mahak, him being one of the rare offspring of Har'koa and Loque'nahak who remained free of the curse that changed the others (one of the beasts that many hunters stalked and prayed to find, and proudly displayed when they could) and thus he was a link to the land she came from. So, hopefully spending time with him would help sooth feelings after this mornings fiasco.
For a moment she wondered if she should apologize, but then decided against it. It would be awkward to bring it up now.
Such it had been many mornings in the past, and so it would have been this morning had not Dzie'wanna's newest member of the house decided to show her displeasure. Her eyes snapped open as ice cold water splashed over her head. Staring in shock into the bottom of a bucket, her mind snapped into place as drilled instincts took over. Within two beats, the person who held the bucket was pinned to the ground and stuck a headlock with a snarling Dzie'wanna blocking their wind pipe.
"Lady Dizzy! Lady Dizzy, let go of Isondo!" A little Orc child scrambled out of their bunk, awoken by the noise, and tumbled down to the floor. Landing on their butt with a 'oomph', she scrambled forward and started tugging at the Dzie'wanna's arm that wrapped around the other's neck. With a huff Dzie'wanna stood and glared down at the other troll, a young woman still in their teenage years. She then stormed out of the hut, taking only a moment to sweep up the bucket into her hand on her way out.
Silence lasted a little while longer in the house as Isondo coughed and wheezed to regain her breath, with Sassaba patting her on her back soothingly. "There there, it's alright. You just can't startle Lady Dizzy like that." The child puffed her chest up in pride as she continued. "Lady Dizzy is so well trained, that anything like that would of course cause her senses to attack! She is a true warrior of the Horde." She gave a firm nod, before shrinking back a bit at the glare she was being given by the young troll. "I'm... I'm gonna go help Lady Dizzy feed the raptors." Within seconds she was running out the door, calling after Dzie'wanna.
Isondo continued to sit on the floor as she calmed her breathing, her violet hair falling about in rough strands scratching at her face. She pulled back her lips in a sneer as her blue hand punched the floor. It had been nothing but a simple prank, did she really deserve such treatment? How dare the jungle whelp! One from such a weakling tribe that still followed the Zandalar, one who wasn't even performing her proper duties in her tribe, one who was so ugly! How dare she raise a hand against her, the daughter of an empire.
Sitting there, stewing in her anger, Isondo wished that she was back in her home, where ice would always be on the ground and none of this blasted heat, not stuck with a troll women who was living in the middle of such Loa-forsaken lands, and no strange green children with tusks that came out the wrong row of teeth.
Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall the coolness of her home, the frigid peaks and water that wasn't luke-warm unless treated with arcane ice. It was one of the few reasons she picked up studying such unwomanly things, for only the arcane could even call up the slightest chill here during the day.
Hearing her name being called by the jungle whelp, Isondo arranged her face in a well-practiced look of disdain before smoothing out her clothes with the flat of her hands and striding out the door. Immediately a bucket shoved it's way into her arms. From the chips of ice still swollen into the cracks, it could be identified as the tool in this morning's mischief.
Dzie'wanna leveled her gaze at the younger troll, before speaking. Her cracked lips rasping against her tusks, one looking like a chunk of it had splintered off. "You are going to feed Mahak." It was a simple command, spoken in their mother tongue, but one that at Isondo's surprised look had Dzie'wanna suppressing a smile. Dzie'wanna was still frustrated at this morning's events, but she had faced more rage-inducing actions from her devilsaur and other pets. To tame someone, to get them to like you, you needed patience in spades when it came to those more stubborn ones.
Isondo gave a haughty sniff, looking down her tusks at Dzie'wanna before marching off towards where Mahak's sleeping place was. Dzie'wanna let out a sigh as she turned around and went back to mucking out the hatchling pen, while Sassaba chased after the darting hatchling to try and round the final baby up. Making a bold dive, she was able to catch hold of it's tail and let out a cry of triumph as the little raptor let out a startled squawk.
"Lady Dizzy, Lady Dizzy! Look, I caught her!" Sassaba scrambled to stand, her clothes stained with mud as she proudly held the squirming hatchling up for inspection. Dzie'wanna gave a slow smile and reached out to pet first the raptor, then the girl on the head.
"Joo did good, Sassaba. Now, go put 'im wid de oddurs." Sassaba gave a happy nod and quickly ran over to the smaller, quickly made pen that was only used when this one was being cleaned. The orc girl ran back and picked up her smaller shovel, and joined Dzie'wanna in the job.
Moments of companionable silence passed, Sassaba long since having learned that her lady was the quiet type. Glancing up at the tall figure of the troll, her wiry muscles covered in scars that caused dips in her fur, and the simple bandages that she tightly wound around her chest for coverage. She was taller then most Darkspear women, standing at over seven feet and more solidly built then many. Sassaba liked to observe her lady, ever since she was assigned as her squire during the Argent Tournament. It had been rare-ish to see a troll competing, as they were so sparsely populated, but it was downright strange to see one striding through the grounds with rugged fur and a large dinosaur marching beside them.
She had been terrified at first, and after following behind her lady on battlefields in Northrend this terror was well well placed. But for the most part her lady tended to be kind and quiet, almost like a big stuffed boar. To her, her lady was the best lady any squire could ever ask for, any gruntling could hope to ever receive. Even though she made weird decisions at times.
"Lady Dizzy-"
"Zandali, Sassaba."
She puffed up her cheeks in annoyance, before continuing on in the weird language that her Lady insisted she learn. She didn't like Zandali, it felt like it slid around in her mouth compared to the rough, sure and solid way of Orc speak. Giving a pout, she continued as she tried to remember the different words. "-Why you...you... why you be keebin'-"
Dzie'wanna interreupted, correcting the pronunciation. "Keeping."
"-Keeping Isondo here. She mean!"
Dzie'wanna's hand came to rest on top of Sassaba's shorn hair, and she gave a little push. Sassaba grinned knowing that this was a sign of approval or affection, though it had been hard to tell at first when she had started to work for the troll. Dzie'wanna switched back to Orcish.
"Ya, she may be dat. But so many be, an' even de most mean beast gotta have a place ta rest."
Sassaba's face dropped as she ducked her head and continued to work, feeling disappointed that the meanie would be staying. Dzie'wanna merely smiled, though a touch of concern and a thoughtful look lingered about her eyes while a tenseness around her mouth strengthened. She then continued her own work. In truth, she wondered often if it was right to bring Isondo here. The purchase of the Drakkari from a slave market was a rather spontaneous decision on her part, mostly having to do with overhearing some rather unsavory plans for the beautiful woman, and having just sold a nice mount to someone so having enough gold in her pocket to do something. Isondo though was about as stubborn as the rhino Loa that her tribe revered, and as temperamental.
However, it had only been a couple weeks since the girl arrived and yet she had already gone from trying to actually do physical harm to these simple pranks. It was certainly a lesson for Dzie'wanna, having someone nearly grown in the house who had quite a few thoughts and constantly challenged her. It troubled her, as it sometimes reminded her too much of some unsavory memories from when she was younger, and it just felt odd. She had tried to be a teacher, like with Sassaba and the few hunter students she had scattered about, but the role that was so easy to take on wasn't wanted or the right role for this case. After failing at stepping in that role with Isondo, she was at a loss at how to approach the teenager. Friend? Equal? Brother-in-arms? Enemy certainly wouldn't do, and so she simply observed for now.
She knew that Isondo liked Mahak, him being one of the rare offspring of Har'koa and Loque'nahak who remained free of the curse that changed the others (one of the beasts that many hunters stalked and prayed to find, and proudly displayed when they could) and thus he was a link to the land she came from. So, hopefully spending time with him would help sooth feelings after this mornings fiasco.
For a moment she wondered if she should apologize, but then decided against it. It would be awkward to bring it up now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)