Not a troll tale, but something I'd like to share

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Not a troll tale, but something I'd like to share

Post  Lyranne on Sun May 25, 2008 1:13 pm

(( I only post this here bacause I'd like to know what people think. I hope you like it ))

He couldn't tell you why he feels emotions with such burning ferociity. He'd possibly just say 'I'm a druid, it's normal', even though he knows it not to be true. Maybe it stems from his past, but he'd be reluctant to give any great detailing of it, insetead truncating it to the simple facts of 'I was born, had an abhorrent upbringing, barely escaped with my life. I was saved by guards at Camp Mojachi, and nursed very slowly back to health by Greywolf. I avowed to abide by her compassion, and so went out trying to help others in the same way'. Of course, he isn't even sure that Greywolf was there or just in spirit, but it makes little difference to him.

Whraenyyr Blackhorn: Not his birth name, but that has long since become part of history; an arrid memory that he wishes not to look back on.
He knows he was born into a Grimtotem tribe, though which one in Feralas he can not recall, and when he tries to think back on his past, he is overwhelmed by images of pain and suffering at the hands of those called 'family'.
His torso is so scarred, it appears as a tapestry portraying malice and anguish, as though the flesh is barely able to support his bulk.

A question Whrae always found himself asking was 'Are all Tauren like this? If so, then I hope I die before I become like them'. Early in his life, he had been allowed a modicum of freedom within the tribe, as he had no natural gifts when young, and appeared to only be fit for tending to any injured, or helping around the camp, cleaning up after any mess. It may not have been fun, but he was happy that he had not been called to kill.
For years, the tribe seemed to look at Whrae with pity, such was his lack of skiill - even that of conversation. Instead he would read the books and scrolls that were left from those slain in the woodland, or from abandoned packages, or even those killed by his tribe.
He became a voracious reader, and withdrew into the histories of all the people that were detailed. He knows not how or why he could understand the texts, and instead just escaped into them. Whraenyyr was, for the first time, happy.

But this happiness would not last...

Foolishly, he started writing, albeit clumsy prose, and one day asked if he could speak before the tribe. His family thought he may have started to show signs of some latent power. If they had known then, they may well have had him killed. He was given permission to address the tribe.

He walked towards the tentral pyre, and looked over at the throng ahead. He swallowed hard, and started to tremble.

It was clear to the group that he was nervous, and they teased him:
"Ah, the shy one wants to talk. Is he going to cry, too?" said one
"ha! He's not even fit to help the the mildest of chores, what does he think he cane tell us?" said another.

His lip trembled, and he felt his emotions welling up. But he bit his lip, and took in a deep breath. He paused slightly then read:


The stars at night,
oh so bright
Guiding my vision far
Light of night
inspire my sight
And take my soul far.
I hear the sounds
of wolves and hounds
and they guide me ever far
But not so far as the light above
A light of warmth, of passion, of love
So please: take me far
I need to touch the stars


Unbeknownst to Whraenyyr, he had recited this not in Taurehe, but the common tongue of man. The group looked at him as though he had just killed their elders. He could see every pair of eyes trained on him, murder behind each fixed gaze.
Before he knew it, he had been rushed. Though Whraenyyr can not remember the beatings he received on this night, he still has flashes of the pain, and the fear, but he assumes it was because of a later ordeal.
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Re: Not a troll tale, but something I'd like to share

Post  Lyranne on Sun May 25, 2008 1:14 pm

After the attack, Whraenyyr struggled with blackouts, and memory loss. He would often be walking as if in a daze, as if unsure of where he was - and truth be told, this was not far from the truth.
But, being a resilliant bull, he slowly started to recover. Eventually able to return to the menial tasks he'd always had. The blackouts however, remained.
However those in his camp seemed to constantly looks at him with hate, malice and fear. He was only given tasks on the outskirts of the camp, but this suited him fine.
He'd always preferred the warming embrace of nature over the company of his tribe, such was their disdain for him. Whenever he rested between tasks, he'd escape into any piece of literature he had with him, inspired to continue writing, and learn.
Whenever an animal came near, he was always surprised that they accepted him so easily, and found that if he concentrated, he could prevent even hostile creatures from being such. In the evenings, he'd look up to the moon with a yearning he couldn't comprehend. He'd feel an affinity with all around him, and would be calmed by its radiant glow.

But one day, even this last vestige of solace would be taken from him.

He'd started to notice that something was changing within him. It started with an injured female wolf - a truly magnificant beast, with fur white as snow, it was truly out of place in the forests of Feralas - who cowered in fear when he appraoched it. He soothed the animal, got closer. Stroking the poor creature, he felt tears running down his face and - desperate to be able to help the animal - placed a hand over the wound. To his surprise, he found that a starnge aura was eminating from his hands: At first he was scared, as he'd had no prior experiences of this, but very quickly learnt to accept the warmth flowing through him, he concentrated, and found that under his hand, the wolf seemed to be recovering. Tears still flowing from his eyes, he looked down at the wolf, delighted that it had started to lick him. Of course, he did not take the wolf into the camp, and Whraenyyr instead took to living out in the wild, feeling far safer there.

Over the weeks that followed, Whraenyys and the wolf became inseperable, finding food together, and generally they were both happy. One day, the wolf started running ahead, excited at a familiar scent. It beckoned Whrae to follow it, and happily he obliged.
Set into the side of the shear rock face, there was a small nook, cautiously, the wolf entered. Whrae decided to wait outside. A few minutes passed, and eventually the wolf returned to the entrance. Whrae looked upon it, unsure what had happened. The wolf came over to him, and licked his hand, then ran back to the entrance, and howled softly. A moment later, to Whrae's pleasent surprise, there was a young wolf cub, followed by three more.
He looked at his companion, who then let out another gentle howl. The cubs came towards them both, and to his delight, they welcomed him. And so he lived with them.
It was during this time, that he adopted the name 'Whraenyyr' as that was the sound the wolves made when they beckoned him. He wasn't sure, but he felt that the name - or sound if it was merely such - was an honour. It was reserved just for him, and it filled him with warmth to know that these wolves had accepted him so completely. He thought of them as family, and cared for them greatly. All this time, he was finding he was gaining strength; spiritually, and emotionally. He could release energy to help or hinder, but he always relied more on cunning.

However, a family of white wolves evidently stood out in feralas, and Whrae would often spy a hunter or else someone after a nice pelt. He would try and chase them off, and for the most part it worked; they remained safe for a fair amount of time. Alas, word had gotten to the tribes that there was a feral Tauren, living out in the wilderness - chasing people from making any kills. Eventually, a plan was set to remove the Tauren. It was on a routine collection of food that Whrae - out on his own whilst the wolf took care of her young - heard a howl of anguish. He dropped what he had collected, and followed the sound. The next thing he knew, he was ensnared in a trap. So restricting was the rope, and so utterly helpless was he, that he began to panic. The hunters dragged him some distance until they reached a camp. He was thrown into the centre, and could see to his left that the wolves had also been captured. He let out a howl of fear, and anger, trying to break free of the restraints. But it was to no avail.

He heard a voice:

"So, you have returned to us, Shorthorn" it said. Whraenyyr could hear mocking laughter from all directions.
Another voice then added: "Shorthorn, the weak, has finally given us something. We should honour him". More laughter.
"Well, Shorthorn" said the first speaker again. "You have shamed this camp, and I can only see one way you can possibly repay us for our kindess"
"What kindness have you ever offered me?" Whrae replied, trying to keep calm, but feeling rage and fear boil up inside.
The second speaker replied "We gave you life, you insignificant fool. We could have left you to the dogs". He heard more laughter "But" they added, "It appears you have met with them anyway" Agaian, there was laughter.
A third voice came in "So, what has your offspring got to say about his gift: Shall we accept?"
The frist two leaned over Whrae, sneering. The first spat in his face, and replied "I would say that the pelts will be a fine gift, and the meat should provide us with a small feast". More laughter, and Whrae's eyes were burning red, tears flowing, and never feeling so helpless.

After what seemed a humiliating eternity, he was finally cut loose of the ropes, but held by two strong Tauren, not that he felt he had much strength left anyway. he was handed a knife, and the first speaker approached him, he lowered his tone and handed Whrae a knife.
The male speaker said, with great disgust "Son...You have shamed us all by not having any power, nor the decency to let people hunt in the North. I give you a choice: You kill these wolves, or join them"
Whraenyyr looked at the knife, turning itover in his hand. He turned to his father, then the second speaker - his mother - and replied.
"Son...The first and only time you have called me such, and it's with venom on your tongue. I would rather die, and welcome oblivion than harm those wolves". He sighed, and looked at the wolves, then at the knife. He thought to himself "But what choice do I have? At least if they die by my hand, it will be-" His mind trailed off.
"Got something to say, boy?" Asked his mother, billiously.
He lowered his head and muttered "I will....do as you ask"
The two buls holding him, let go.
And so, his heart filled with pain, tired, scared, angry, with tears running down his face - but knowing he had little choice, he killed them.

The tribe gasped as his parents collapsed. The two who had been holding him quickly grabbed him agian. Whrae looked on as the wolves were slain before his eyes, but he felt dead inside.
He muttered in the direction of the wolves "I'm sorry" before being dragged to a cage, where he would remain for a time until they would put him to death. He would occasionally be dragged out for beatings, but this wasn't new to him, and now he felt so empty, the pain was all that told him he was still alive. Part of him would regret not trying to rescue the wolves, but he knew that he would have been killed and so would they, such were the numbers. He killed his parents in defiance, and with with no remorse or regret, for they had never shown him even the tiniest amount of compassion or love.

Soon, the day came that he was to be excecuted. His body and mind broken, his spirit crushed, he was ready to die. But before that, more beatings, more humiliation and all he could do was take it. He was dragged to the central pyre, ready to be burned, when he heard a howl. He looked around, snapped momentarily out of his stupor to see where the wolf was. He couldn't see any, and thought maybe it was his last punishment, mocked by those he had loved. he closed his eyes.
He heard it again. This time, he felt sure it was closer. Again he surveyed the horizon, but could see no wolf-there! He could see that a white wolf was being dragged into the camp. He felt his emotions well up, and wondered if one of the cubs had escaped, or else never been caught. He hadn't counted them when he sw them that day, so it was possible...
The camp Elder looked at Whrae and then at the wolf. Then he said:
"This is the last one, Shorthorn, of that we are certain. She'd had more than one litter from what we can ascertain, and now, when this one is dead, there'll be no more. Even we sould not ordinarily kill all of a species, but this is because of you. These wolves have become hostile to such an extent that death is the only solution".
Whrae looked at him, and replied "You...killed their mother...what did you expect to happen?"
The Elder smiled and said "Ah, then we having something in common. Both have killed mothers. In a way, I should thank you. After killing them, I was made Elder, and be rest assured that I have even less love of you than either of them did. This culling of the wolves is your fault. If you'd just let that one die, none of this would ever have happened. A lamentable thing, when you fail to kill your quarry".
Whrae looked imperiously at the Elder "So you were the one who wounded it?"
The Elder nodded, and smiled coldly "Indeed, I was testing my skill, and it moved at the last moment. I would have chased after it, but i thougt it would die anyway. Then you go and humiliate me by healing the beast, thus denying me my right to claim the kill. But anway, now that we have this one, all shall be right".

The Elder went over to the wolf, ready to kill it, when Whrae started to feel a ferocity overrun his senses. The next thing he saw, was his hands round the Elders throat, watching as the life ebbed from his body. This time, he was able to save the wolf, so he - and it - fled.

He ran as far as he could, but he was still weak, the wolf was able to keep ahead. Two mounted taurens followed, and easily caught up with Whrae and held him, whilst the rest of the tribe arrived. Whrae urged the wolf to continue running, which it did. As he was beaten, mauled, slashed, and kicked, he looked on at the wolf, and cried tears of relief as they had left it alone. The wolf was safe, and he closed his eyes.
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Re: Not a troll tale, but something I'd like to share

Post  Lyranne on Sun May 25, 2008 1:15 pm

For Whrae, the next few weeks or months - He was blacking out with great frequency and so does not recall exactly how long he was there - were a haze of muffled sounds, blurred images, and immense pain. Though he was rescued by a Guard at camp Mojache, this is really only a vague memory to him, and he only knows because of what was about to transpire.

On one particularly bad day, he heard a voice - muffled, like the others, but coming through stronger with each word - He felt compelled to listen. The voice was warm, gentle, but commanded respect, and he felt better just for hearing it. The voice was almost ethereal.
It said, calm and slowly: 'Whraenyyr, within you lies a burning passion, one that can help or hinder. Your emotions conflict, and constrict your spirit, adding to your suffering, and potentially those around you. before I help, I need to know what you desire: Revenge, or justice?'
Whraenyyr closed his eyes again, trying to comprehend what was being said, whilst staving off the agony he was barely coping with.
Eventually, he spoke: 'I...could never kill like that again...I accept judgement for my crimes, though I don't regret my actions...I want peace...I feel my spirit, and it is aflame with anguish. It is scarred, and my heart aches.'
The voice was quiet for a time and then it replied: 'Very well, Whraenyyr, I know have a second question. Think carefully of your answer, for I shall only ask it once: Do you want mey aid?'
Whraenyyr's mind was spinning, his pain becoming unbearable. Whether he thought the voice would take him from the world, or heal his pain, only he knows, and will not say. But regardless, he took as deep a breath as he could, and responded 'Yes, Aid me please'. He feel back into unconsciousness.

He doesn't know how long after the conversation it was before I properly awoke, but when he did, he was scared. It was only now that he knew where he was, and seeing fellow Taurens was hard to bare. He was too weak to do anything though, and when one came in with fresh bandages, and a warm smile, he knew he was not in any danger. They applied the dressings, and, although Whrae was only able to mutter, he said 'Thank you'. The Taurette smiled again, and said 'No need to thank me. Someone will bring food for you shortly.' She then left him alone.
It seemed that with each passing hour, his strength was starting to return. After a time, he was able to sit himself up, and when the food was brought through - a nice warm bowl of fish soup, for he could not swallow easily - hehe smiled at the Tauren, and with a slightly stronger voice than before said 'Thank you, and give my regards to the taurette who applied these bandages.' The fellow tauren looked at Whrae with indifference, and nodded non-commitedly.

Within a few days, Whraennyr was starting to walk about, though with the aid of a staff that had been handed to him. He tried to talk to the tribe, but found it awkward, and so chose only to speak to that nice Taurette, for she seemed the only one to be truly accepting of him. They would talk about anything they thought was interesting, and she'd attend to his dressings. He started to help her with tasks around the Camp, and she happily accepted his assistance. They exchanged names - hers he can longer recall.
One day, he asked her 'Why are you so kind to me. None of the others are quite so kind to me.'
She smiled at him, and replied 'I am not from here, originally. Maybe I see something of myself in you, or maybe I just felt the need to help.' She sighed gently, and continued 'Or maybe, I just like you.' She smiled at Whrae, who was startled at her reply.
Alas, whatever feelings there were between them never got very far. A few days later, whilst Whrae was resting in bed, A Guard rushed in, looking at him with sheer hate. He asked the guard 'What has happened?'
'Grimtotems.' He said, coldly. 'Grimtotems have killed a group from the camp, whilst they were out gathering food.' He muttered under his breath 'Grimtotem scum', half expecting Whrae to at least look partially angry, but he did not, and instead asked 'Who was killed?'
'If you're that interested in what your Tribe has done, I suggest you get up and have a look.' With that, the Guard left.
Whraenyyr was concerned, his memories of his past, already a hazy mix of horror and pain, was battling with conscious self, trying to remember what he knew about Grimtotems, but as soon as he tried, his subconscious would shut him out. he ventured outside, and to his terror, saw fifteen bodies lying on the ground, all faces he'd seen around the camp - then he saw her. He was overcome with emotion, and collapsed to his knees beside her. His lips quivered, and he sobbed, holding her head in his arms.

That night, he couldn't sleep, and found little solace in talking to anyone in the camp. As he attempted to close his eyes, he saw an old Tuarette. She looked at him with a sadness. She spoke to him in a voice of calm understanding, and he immediately respected her. 'Whraenyyr, I am sorry to see you so sad. Truly, I had hoped your recovery to have been a simpler procedure, and it makes what I am to ask much harder.'
He looked at her, and realised she had been that voice of warmth he had heard what seemed an age ago. His body was still weak, and his heart now heavy, he was reluctant to talk, but did so. 'You...are the one who offered me help. I thank...you.' He closed his eyes, and sighed, a solitary tear running down his cheek.
The aged taurette walked closer to him, her movement silent, and full of grace. She placed her hand under his chin, and lifted it to face her. 'Whraenyyr, Do you want revenge or justice?'
He looked at his hands, ones he knew deep down were capable of destruction, and clenched his fists.
Tthen thought of the Taurette he may well have loved, her eyes of warmth, her loving smile. He then looked at the vision of compassion ahead of him.
He took a deep breath, and replied 'I...want justice.' He started to cry heavily, and took a while to reagin any composure. All the while the taurette supported him, encouraging him to let it out.
'Very well,' She said, 'Then may I ask something of you?'
Whraenyyr looked to the taurette, who seemed more compassionate with every syllable. He smiled, and replied 'Yes, you may ask me anything'
'I have to go shortly, but I wish to see you again. You are not yet fully recovered, so this is a big task. But I would like for you to head through the Thousand needles, up the Great lift, throught the Barrens, and eventually into Mulgore. I will be waiting.'
He looked at her, puzzled, but nodded. 'I know not of these places, but if you ask it, I shall go. I have nothing here...now...But may I ask, what is your name?'
She smiled at him, and replied 'I am Greywolf.'
She comforted him, and he felt better just to know her support. She toled him she had to leave, and just as Whraenyyr closed his eye and opened them again, she was gone.
'Through Thousand Needles, up the Great Lift, through the Barrens and into Mulgore' he said to himself. He ventured back outside, in the dead of night. He went over to the Taurette's motionless body, and kissed her gently on the forehead, before heading off into the unknown.
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Interlude

Post  Lyranne on Sun May 25, 2008 1:16 pm

((This entry is about an event that happened fairly recently, so I apologise for it not following on from the last -the next one does continue it ))
Whraenyyr, as was often the case, was sitting alone on the lower rise. The rain was heavy, but with it came a calming, soothing effect that he embraced. But it was not enough. Puddles were forming, and his tears were falling freely.
He had been with his new tribe now for just over one moon cycle, and although he had never felt happier, that was making way for despair. His love was ill, and he knew of nothing that could aid her. 'Oh Than, I need you' he muttered. Whrae had never been a very good healer, even after all this time. His skills had always been more for destruction, and he hated himself for it. He felt his heart ache, and destitution filled his soul. He let out a heavy sigh, and tried to focus his mind.

The rain eased, and Whare looked up. The sunlight was starting to break through the cloud cover, in ghostly shards of soft beauty, but he barely took notice. He was lost without his radiant light, her warmth and compassion filled his heart with joy; to know that she was suffering caused his spirit immeasurable pain. He pondered why he had moved so fast, why he had declared his love for her so soon, and he remembered:

Over the years, he had travelled as a nomad, rarely settling at any place for more than a night. He'd occasioanally stay longer if in need of recovery, or he felt compelled to write, but mostly his routine revolved around moving ever forward, away from the pain and nightmares.
His blackouts were still a part of his life, and he feared making contact with people, unsure of how he or they would cope with gaps in his recollection. He found solace in nature, and had been told recently that he could be a great druid if he would just have the determination.
He'd visited the moonglade, and trained for a while, but he grew afraid of himself. His emotions were still too strong, and even though he'd mastered his shapeshifting, he never felt in control, instead using them as masks. If he was scared or angry, he'd become a bear, and he'd feel courage. If he was lonely or upset, he'd be a cat, skulking off alone. And if he was desperate... He snapped his mind back. 'No', he thought 'I need to stay strong'.
He looked at his giant hands, and started pounding his legs until they were numb. 'What use is my strength when I can't help those I care about', he thought, trying to calm himself 'Maybe I should have completed my training. But I can't face that, not again. I can't tell the tribe, and I can tell no one else, not even my love'. He let out a sigh of despair.
'Before Thanora, I felt so lost'. He looked at an old poem he'd written, slowly reading from the tear stained parchment:


Darkness surrounds me
Engulfs my soul completely
Show me the light, please

His heart sunk. He'd forgotten just how bad it was before her. He'd felt as though even Earthmother had abanonded him, and remembered crying out her name, desperate for any reply.
There had been nothing, until Thanora. Had Earthmother sent her to him, he pondered, maybe she was the reply, maybe it was fortune, but when they spoke, that first time, his spirit lightened, and his heart pounded. His mind raced, and he spouted poetry, albeit clumsily. he was lost in her, and it was bliss. He felt his shyness wash away, as just to be near her encouraged him. And now: Now his love was ill, and he could do nothing. He feared she was worse than she let on, but respected her too much to pry, though it pained him greatly.

Almost all the storm clouds had dissapated, and Thunder Bluff was awash with mid-morning light, and yet he felt himself utter 'This is not my light'. He got up, took on the form of a cat, and headed down the lift into Mulgore, and through to Camp Taurajo. he found a secluded spot, and got out his skinning knife.
He rolled it across his palm, gently placing the blade along the length of his wrist. 'It would be so easy' he thought, finding himself shaking, tears rolling down his face 'Who would miss me...Maybe a few, but they'd get over it...' He prepared himself, then, just as he pressed the glinting, inviting blade to his vein, his mind flashed an image of Thanora 'No!' he yelled, and stopped. Whraenyyr cried for an hour before he snapped out of it, recovering his senses. He looked around, slightly dazed, unsure of where he was.


Last edited by Lyranne on Sun May 25, 2008 1:27 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Re: Not a troll tale, but something I'd like to share

Post  Lyranne on Sun May 25, 2008 1:17 pm

((this short paragraph is part story, part general detailing as I felt the need to elbaorate on just what the blackouts are... Sorry if any of this seems patronising, but i'm stilll getting used to writing seriously))
Whrae's blacking out is still a frequent occurance, and happens most often when left to his own devices, or else under immense physical or emotional strain, such was the damage done at the hands of his so-called 'family'. He also blacks out when he tries to think back on his past, as his subconsious safeguords him from the emotional pain. it's a combination of brain damage and emotional scarring, that seems unlikely to ever fully heal. His headaches are also a sign of the former.

Whrae's blackouts were such that when travelling through to Mulgore, his mind has mere snapshots of his venture. He vaguely recalls seeing Centaur for the first time and having to defend himself against their vicious attacks whilst trevailing through the thousand needles, but remembers nothing of his journey through the Barrens.
He had passed through Camp Taurajo, and felt he was close to Greywolf; he could feel his spirit grow warmer. But he felt lost. He'd never left feralas, and now here he was, alone and vulnerable in an unfamilar surrounding. He was overwhelemed. He felt his mind swim, and he fell to his knees, clutching his head in agony. he threw up, and slipped into unconsciousness.

When he eventually awoke, he found himself inside a small building.
'Hello again, Whraenyyr' Came a familar warm and gentle voice.
'Greywolf, Oh, I'm...so sorry' came his fractured reply.
Greywolf gently placed her hand on his head, and smiled 'You have nothing to apologise for. You have made your way to me, as was asked'
He stifled a cry. 'I-i don't even know how I made it here. I remember so little, just your voice in Feralas, and shards of memory, but so little'
She looked at him, and sighed sadly. 'Such an abhorrent act leading to such suffering is not uncommon, but always tragic. Whrae, I want you to stay here until you are at least slightly better: I take in the abandoned, runaways, orphans... Those with nowhere else to go. You're older than most here, but I feel it will help, if you still want that.'
Whraenyyr impulsively hugged Greywolf and cried 'Thank you' he said, tears flowing freely.

And so, for a time he rested there until he was able to assist Greywolf in taking care of the others. He remained mostly isolated, and would tend to help more through gathering supplies than through staying close as he still felt uneasy around people. Occasionally, he would collapse, or blackout, but for the most part he was stable, and happy.
But eventually, he felt he needed to move on. He went up to Greywolf, and asked her where he should go, for his lack of travel limited his knowledge. She looked to him, and asked 'Where do you feel most comfortable: Around fellow Taurens, etc or in nature?'
He didn't take long to answer 'I've always felt an affinity with nature, I guess. At least it feels that way'
'She looked at him, knowingly and smiled 'Then I suggest you travel back through the barrens, and north through Ashenvale, through Felwood and to the Moonglade. There is a settlement there - Nighthaven - that I believe will help you understand just what you are capable of'
'I thank you for your wisdom' he said, then prepared for the journey.

He didn't take much with him, for he had little to begin with. The journey was long and arduous, which helped him remain focused and stave off the blackouts. When he made it to the outskirts of Nighthaven, he was stricken by panic. He'd never been so close to a large settlement, and it seemsed so busy. He found himself shaking, and was tempted to turn back. Then he heard himself think 'You need to do this' He relaxed his breathing, taking long, deep breaths, and continued on.
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Re: Not a troll tale, but something I'd like to share

Post  Lyranne on Sun May 25, 2008 1:17 pm

'Thanora knows now', Wharenyyr said to himself. 'She's seen me at my lowest now, and she still cares, but at least her cough has gone. Three whole days!?'

Indeed, he had been at Freewind post for three days, in and out of consciousness, the pain leading to delerium. But when Thanora arrived with Deyyania, some trigger in his mind snapped him back. He knew then he had to tell her.
The conversation they had was emotional. Deyyania had headed off whilst Thanora comforted Whrae, as a combination of respect to the couple, needing this time together, and for needing to pick up supplies. He loathed how he'd kept his blackouts from her, and hated even more how they seemed to be destroying his only happiness.

He looked around, and down at Thanora. They had cried so heavily for so long, that they slept in each others arms. He gently lifted her arms and picked himself up.
Wracked with guilt, he felt the need for the fresh air, so stepped out side.
'Freewind Post is beautiful at night' he sighed.
A Guard, half-alseep, nodded at him 'Aye, it is. Gooed to see you walking, and not still in that state' Whraenyyr looked sullen. The Guard stepped over to him and smiled. 'You have someone who loves you, and great friends. That Blood elf who arrived with her' he pointed in the direction of Thanora 'she went off to get some more supplies and help'. He sighed. 'Though, from what she said when she returned, it sounds as though there are others she ended up trying to comfort, saying something like "Poor Chow, poor Wal"'.
Whraenyyr looked up at hearing Chow's name, and felt ashamed: Here he'd been, unable to lend help to a friend, and although he knew it was not his fault, he couldn't help himself but cry quietly.
'Blood Elf?' He enquired
The Guard nodded, 'Aye a blonde Elf called Dey, or at least that's what she called her'
'That other druid who was here, the guard continued, 'I think he went off to get supplies too, though I can't be sure'
Whraennyr looked again to the guard, and said 'Tanka chi, washte'. He headed over the bridge and stared off into the distance.

'The wedding is just over three weeks away now, and now with this happening.' He let out a sigh, and closed his eyes. 'I don't even know if the Tribe had accepted fully, and now this... Maybe that's why I feel so isolated amongst them. They all seem to have a shared history, having known each other so long, and I....I just can't integrate myself.' He looked down from Freewind and felt so utterly alone. 'No, Whrae, not that' he found himself saying 'Remember Than'. He turned away, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he was at Thunder Bluff. It was still night, and Whrae looked around him. 'Why am I here? I should be with Than'. He sighed 'I hope she hasn't been worrying' So hurridly, and shame-faced, he set off for their home in Ratchet.
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Lyranne
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Re: Not a troll tale, but something I'd like to share

Post  Lyranne on Sun May 25, 2008 1:20 pm

I was going to put this all in ooc brackets , but it's easier to just types it normally:

Whraenyyr's blackouts:

They were initially caused by the attack mentioned in the first post. He suffered some brain damage that causes them and the headaches. The blackouts themselves are brought on by various things; stress - emotional or physical - If he's on his own and his mind wanders, he may blackout.
He'll almost always blackout when trying to retrieve information from his past, as his brain safeguards against the inevitable mental anguish.
It may also just happen randomly, and in fact he's had them around people.
Usually if he's being unusually quiet, and I'm not typing emotes (or the ones I am typing refer to him as staring off into the middle distance) then that's a sign that he's blacked out.
Also, if he acts strangely and walks off that's a sign; the entry with the skinning knife is based around the time he left Gellion and Liontooth talking to each other and muttered 'I'm just going....to get some air'. He doesn't recall those two being there, or even that he said anything though, which is why they aren't mentioned (plus I didn't want to include other peoples characters unless absolutely required).

A slight aside: The memory loss and headaches are in fact based upon my father, who sadly suffers from mild brain damage (It's called mild, but in reality, there's no such thing), although the idea was instigated by myself suffering a real life nasty headache. Though I am relieved that My father does not suffer quite so severely as Whraenyyr (although his memory loss is a constant, unlike Whrae's, which is sporadic).

But in general, they are relatively mild. They reached their peak the other night, and alas, no one really saw it, so you'll all remain in the dark until either I or Than/Deras tell you - though I did make passing references last night to Chow and a few others with Deyyania/Lyranne. He very rarely suffers that badly, and he feels that much safer around Thanora, who's presence gives him strength.

Anyway, I hope that helps. Sorry if it's a bit long, but in a way, this helps me too (so i can add at least a modicum of consistency to how I'll portray them), and thank you for showing an interest.
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Lyranne
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Re: Not a troll tale, but something I'd like to share

Post  Lyranne on Mon May 26, 2008 1:05 pm

The Training was hard, and Whrae struggled through. He was determined however, to learn, and improve. He'd only reently ceen referred to as a druid, and told that he had the potential to do so much to help with the natural balance. However; He had always felt a conflict in his soul. He knew - even if his fellow druids didn't - that his emotions were in a constant state of flux. He thought to himself that 'Maybe this is what a druid is... fluctuating between the dark and light pain and pleasure... happiness and sorrow.' He closed his eyes, feeling lost.

He had learnt very quickly that he was not focused enough to take a strict path, and so chose that of balance. It was hard. He had neither the grace in cat form, nor the strength in bear form, but felt more at ease as a kindred spirit of the moon. The lunar light had always been comforting, and so he felt as one with it.

As his training continued, he was required to visit Outland. As he went through the dark portal, he was met with a sight. A place scarred - A fractured world of disparate places, hovering on a brink. The remnants of this once bountiful world felt rent. As soon as he arrived, he felt the pain of the planet. He collapsed to his knees, unsure why others were not affected so. He could hear the planet scream, and it's soul was in turmoil... Azeroth had Earthmother... This place felt close to death, and, as its spirit ebbed and flowed, he felt a darker presense. Demons... In all directions, he could sense the unnatural taint of them, blighting the land. Then he looked forward, and saw one of immeasurable size. Horde and Alliance soldiers, fighting side-by-side, were keeping its minions at bay. He was told to head to the safety of a settlement that had been quickly established - Thrallmar, and so went, his body and mind in a chaotic struggle.

He very quickly learnt that the truce between Alliance and Horde did not stretch far beyond defending the portal, and found himself lamenting such tragic circumstances. 'If even defending Azeroth together can't bring peace... what can?'. Whrae searched through Outland, and as he trevailed, he learnt just how futile the tired feud between the opposing factions was. 'Working together to protect what they fight each other for, and now, here in a new world, killing each other yet again for yet more land to call their own. land that needs time to heal, and rebalance.' He looked down at Nagrand, one of the only places in the whole of the accursed Outland that had retained some of it's beauty. He then looked over to the central settlement. 'And again, they bring war to each other.' he sighed heavily, and continued on his way.
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