Descent into Madness

June 18, 2009 at 1:58 pm 4 comments

“Shall we slay the Council tonight?” Ouchilicious asked, peering around the corner with her frosty eyes.  “They’ll keep,” our leader replied with a shake of his massive, ursine head.  Even in bear form, with his mouth perpetually agape, he was a portrait of Tauren stoicism.

*   *  *

“Don’t let the infernal wailing fool you,” Keaton growled, addressing the twenty-four of us but staring fiercely at the duplicitous Sara.  “‘She’ is imprisoned here for a reason.”

The druid’s temporarily feline eyes narrowed to mere slits as he studied his prey.  Beneath his tawny pelt, his muscles trembled in anticipation of the battle to come.  In a matter of moments, we knew — with the world-weary certainty of veterans — our leader would throw his iron self-control to the stale wind of the Old God’s prison chamber.  His barely contained energy would explode into rage, and he would lead us once more unto greatness … or death.

“She will likely summon minions to her protection,” he continued, tail lashing.  “We must use them against her.”

“We know,” I whispered in Tauraje, so softly that only he could hear.  “We know.”

He glanced at me, and his amber eyes flickered in the leonine equivalent of smile: feral fervor and lazy affection, all at once.

I tightened my grip on my mace, my Guiding Star, and fixed my gaze firmly ahead.

“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” came a voice from our left, light and almost cheerful.  Lupius was nothing if not an optimist.  “I have a good feeling about this one.”

“Just watch your pet.”  Another voice, this one low and rough — like silk on gravel.  It could only be Korev.  “I don’t trust that Light-damned cat.”

“Are you allowed to take the Light’s name in vain?”  The query came from a Sin’dorei rogue I tended to think of as Mazzranache.  ‘Stepsindark’ was a vain and curiously charismatic creature — far too preoccupied with preening to skulk in the shadows with the rest of his ilk.  “Surely it’s against some stuffy paladin code …”

I snorted.  “Of course he is.  His kind doesn’t worship the Light; they merely enslaved it for a time.”

Keaton’s snarl cut through the anxious chatter.  “Let’s go.”

And because I know my mate — and was listening for it — the last thing I heard before all hell broke loose was the faintest ghost of a prayer.  Not to the Earthmother, but to Elune.

(To be continued.  Maybe.)


Entry filed under: WoW. Tags: .

My Penpal … Yogg-Saron. I have never used those words together …

4 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Valkure  |  June 18, 2009 at 4:28 pm

    I lurve your writing!

  • 2. Reylas  |  June 19, 2009 at 2:04 am

    Very fkn cool mate. Extremely well written =) A+

  • 3. Tigerfeet  |  June 22, 2009 at 1:10 pm

    oooOOOooo. If you’re curious, Tigerfeet prays to Malorne 🙂

  • 4. Clawdio - Aegwynn  |  September 17, 2009 at 2:25 pm

    just stumbled accross this entry…..


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