A fragment or two. ( a reflective Ra'rhuk short story )

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A fragment or two. ( a reflective Ra'rhuk short story )

Post by minstrelofmyths on Wed Feb 25, 2015 11:57 am

The sunless sky was stone cold and brooding, even the clouds themselves seemed morose, grey and faded to blend upon the pillars of high etched arches. Weathered gloved hands clasped tight steel as we gazed upon our foe down in the valley. The cold, north wind keened and mewled through the valley carrying away plaintively the souls of our fallen. Kor’akk at our back, Zor’din at my side, a moment of chilled breath spilled from us. Honor in death, honor to die in the service of our gods, our people. These were the faces of our brothers in arms, it was a good thing to give them the rites they deserved, just not yet. It was the still before another torrent in the storm. The clouds cleared just enough like a parting curtain to reveal ribbons of light of the pale sun that sought out shelter in their chilling embrace.

The veil lifted it revealed our enemy’s weapons that glimmered cruelly under the eerie shaded canopy of redden leaves of our homeland.  The phantom flames of their gazes sent ribbons of blue strewn light spilling onto the upraised shields of our men. The monsters swarmed and swayed below us like the winter wheat during harvest. It seemed there were more of them than a thousand of own could face, as they were our own. Our commander raised our proud banner in defiance. We would not fall this day, we would reclaim what was ours! The colors represented our dreams, our lives, and our salvation, what we would rally under, fall for, what we sacrificed for. In the wind the colors were whipping back and forth as it lashed at the air like the flicker of a serpents tongue. This moment of pause was in the mind, not reality, as chaos was still under way, under the sounds of drums, the shouts, the roars, the scent of blood and fouler things.

They crashed upon the crumbling walls as our commander screamed in desperation ” Charge! ” Onward we moved, more then ready to be on with this after the regrouping, the frozen ground shuddered like the rumbling of thunder. A tempest of wicked, barbed spears soared into the sombre sky. They hissed through the air before hitting their targets. Fountains of red sprayed into the air, ignited the senses.

Rushed as we were there was no sense of order, our shields could not withstand the force in which we were hit with, our lines broke it was a tidal wave of Scourge against the frailty of the living. The world erupted in sounds and scents that overwhelmed the senses, until the masses were ordered spread out. We were of the old mind set, taught and practiced what was passed down over hundreds of years, this is the best way to fight, this was the best way to fight foe. It had worked for generations, it had worked on the nerubians, this unity of stance this unbreakable blockade. Yet it had faltered against those of calculating minds of the undead.

Occasionally there was a hero turned to a corpse here or there. Cornered and hopeless, they strove onward while they yet stood, stabbing and throttling. I planned on meeting the bear’s death, dying while fighting. We were the chieftains of prowess, not chary of slaying. Some how within the madness we three were separated.  I saw alone by the crumbling foundations, my brother of red maned. He was one of the truest of warriors, Zor’din being pierced through the shoulder and pouring out blood while I moved to aid. Even as death kept marking time with the onward beat of the war drums that still played, he defied it with a roar while his axe again struck to finally found purchase through armor to gouge against unliving flesh. Checking on him briefly to ensure he would survive I was swiftly to turn from him to clear the way. Onward I was, as Zor’din finished dismantling his foe while enraged. My brother although bleeding was not mortally wounded, he would continue. I made my way through the theater of dead with keening and caterwauling sounds as the sodden earth became oily with ichor under foot.

As I had made head way through the masses, the quickest route through decapitation they fell like stone tiles aligned. Their armor was too advanced, and they continued through dismemberment of a appendages, beheading was the key, Zor’din caught on quick, catching up to me.

" Where is Kor’akk? "  I had asked as I  walked up a battleground that was anointed with bowels, and limbs. The putrefying stench of a thousand fallen seemed to come from it.


Out of breath and bleeding still my brother spoke. ” I lost him in the rush. ”

" We will find him, " I was going to continue yet over head my thoughts were interrupted with the high pitched trills of Heb'Drakkar bat riders. " About time. "

" Reinforcements. " Zor’din sounded out with a hooting yip, only favoring his shoulder slightly.

Spears rained downward, I pulled my brother into the sheltering of a crimson canopy. We had a moment to wait. ” This is in folly… unless we get more troops in here we will fail this day. “

Zor’din grinned with a wince as he was removing portions of the blade tip that had broken off in the wound. Zor’din tossed the fragments to the ground, spitting as well as if cursing the injury. ” We love when the odds are against us, don’t we Bear? ”  He laughed. ” We’ll make it, it seems their forces are dwindling.  I’ve ended at least thirty myself…. ” He lifted his brow with a smirk as if challenging my numbers.

" You’ll have to do better then that, to contend with my own count sent to Rhunok. While you were resting, I cleared half again that much. " I couldn’t help but chide him some while the bat riders were at work. They flew over head in waves, we could time it, but I also wanted to ensure my brother’s stability while we had that moment. I touched to his arm then used the the thorned trunk of the tree to turn in the direction we would head in our search. The blight was weakening the land in all corners. Yet we were certain our prophets, and our leaders had the answers.

Clear, the area was clear for a moment, we in our rush were flipping over bodies,  looking for our youngest sibling. So many faces, we had known, and it would have been a shock if we were not as we had become in warfare. ” Not here… found Kalar’jin, however. He went out honorably ” Lifeless, eyes of gold looked into the great beyond. Not our brother.


" Same, Rinz’tor… eh… we’re not going to find him in this rabble. " Zor’din was being honest, it was hard to make out who was who under the bodies that were strewn about like kindling made out of bones and flesh.

" I think it may be wiser since they are falling back just to regroup to see if he is amongst those that are living. " I said flatly as I removed a token from the fallen comrade to return to his mate.  "  Our chances of finding him will— " A roar interrupted me. " Ah, dires… we’re in luc—-" Interrupted again but by this time it was Zor’din.

" Ra, isn’t this Kor’akk’s sword? " Zor’din asked as he was attempting to free the weapon from a chest cavity.

I approached taking a look, holding what seemed more delicate in my hands our younger brother’s weapon, smaller and the marking’s of our family crest upon the blade that could be seen through the blood. ” Yes… ”

Zor’din flipped the body over, just to check to make certain our small brother wasn’t underneath, there was a youth his age rank dead there, but not whom we were related too. This had a story, one that wouldn’t be retold to living ears. At the moment however we still had a chance to find him living. ” I’m heading back to the rally point. “

" Wait. " Zor’din pointed upon a wooded knoll, a distance off where there was movement.

" Ah. " It took a moment, as the tree cover was thick, but I saw the markings on Kor’akk’s shield through the bramble and brush, a fleeting glimpse as the motion was hurried.

Both Zor’din and I rushed forward at once, to discover the youth, gore drenched and in a fury. Weaponless, his shield strapped to his back, as he used an appendage that had been ripped from another’s arm, to strike at surrounding ghouls. I was quick to move to dispose of the attacking group, while Zor’din tended to the boy. Kor’akk’s breathing was heavy, tight, swift, he had that look about him, locked down in survival, desperate, frantic, unable to recognize friend from foe.  While Zor’din was trying to him calm down, as I was depleting the numbers from ten to zero.  As I ended the last one I stood watch as Zor’din was attempting to get Kor’akk back to his mind.


——————————————————————-


I was standing outside the hut my brother made…. Etched upon the stone structure far from our homeland, was my name. Was all of our names, most I recognized. Family. Names I thought I would never see again. I touched to the markings upon the masonry work he had spent time, effort and care on. I felt nothing but a curiosity to his reasoning when creating a new home why he would include such distant memory to be included in the now. Yet as I explored more on the visual level, it wasn’t just names by brother a world away, it was a record keeper.  We had fought the nerubians to a stand-still, then the Scourge came. The nerubians fell to the Scourge and were revived into unstoppable undead. What use was our savagery, against an enemy that never tired, never stopped, never felt fear, or pity, or remorse? Few of us survived, those that did scattered like snowflakes in the wind. He, my brother took what remained my family into the arms of the Zandalari convincing them to leave, where as Zor’din and I could not. He had carried on in our place, outliving us all.

I feel more kinship to that youth he was once, then I do him now. My current limitations, his own when he looks upon my state as one of those that ended the era. Yet, my name is on the wall, in a place I would have never known in my life. I do not know how to relate to him, far different then I can recall, he is aged, he is different although I can recognize him. It is difficult to explain, and to explore because what I knew in life is not the same, now. I can only speak of past things with him, he has spoken on more then one occasion that it is depressing. I do not wish to depress him, I wish to only find a commonality as we once held. There is too much that is different for him, yet at the same time he is the one that elects to return to those lands to as he calls it, patrolling. My presence still makes him uncomfortable.

I did over a visit find out what happened to Kor’akk that day we found him. Apparently he had by the weight of the charge, been swept up in a wave that took him the opposite direction from us. He and another of the same rank, found each other and had decided to stick together. In the time of the fray, his comrade lost his own weapon, and in a desperate act had taken Kor’akk’s ripping it from him. Of course this wasn’t something Kor’akk did freely, so there was a dispute. Out of options, lack of weapon as the two were cornered, Kor’akk had ran while the other fought. Only to find he was soon to be surrounded. While retelling the story my brother held a guilt to him. I watched as he shrunk in further on himself, the smiles he expressed became fewer.  He rather speak on other things, so we did.

I find it interesting….

I sacrificed my last breath, for this male as he was to become. On all surface appearances he is honorable, kind, caring, full of life. I do not question the worth of the individual, nor my sacrifice, I knew my end would have came as something similar to the condition I am in now. I question the now, the purpose to see him as he is currently, the reasoning I am drawn in any type of interaction with him, what I hope to gain by it. I do this though with all that I interact with, what purpose is there that I am drawn to in any of this? Just as he was our record keeper, am I being ushered to do the same? I believe it is bothersome to me, because I see things with my brother in two realms at once, they overlap, at times and it takes me back on moments of recall I cannot escape. The only way I can describe is being stuck half way between a dream and reality, even though I do not believe that is best description it is the only one I can come up with to describe these moments of reflection. As well as the object of my obsession when it comes to speaking with the living, they tend to ignite the vividness of memory when my current state is dull in comparison to the vibrancy it once held.
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minstrelofmyths

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