Duality Risen

Six

“Dis is de pits, mon. What’d we do to deserve dis? Nuttin’, dat’s what!”

“Peritali, stop complaining. The Greatmother assigned me this task, not you. You chose to help.”

The troll shaman lifted her head from her task and glowered at the Tauren druid staring at her with calm brown eyes. Peritali muttered another curse and grumbled as she pulled farstrider feathers from the huge pile they’d collected. Nolay just shook her great head at her friend’s typical complaining and went back to her own task.

The pair had been friends since childhood, ever since Peritali had journeyed to Thunder Bluff to continue her shaman training. At the same time, Nolay had been learning the druidic ways, and the two had discovered similarities in their work that made them the perfect team. Almost. Peritali was a complainer, even with the simplest task.

Nolay heaved a sigh and knelt down to examine the feathers Peritali was rescuing from the mashed pile. The Tauren froze almost immediately, her hand hovering over the earth.

“Nolay?” Peritali questioned.

“Shh.” Nolay closed her eyes, trying to get a sense of what she was feeling.

It was odd. Violent and passionate, like the moving earth, and yet terrible like a thunderstorm. The land was crying out, yelling in fierce terror/agony, but Nolay couldn’t figure out why.

Deep in her mind, she heard a fierce howling, nothing at all comforting by the way the sound roared through her mind. It was a warning at the same time it was a condemnation, damning all those who had wrong whatever it was that was making the earth howl so. Nolay opened her eyes and looked at Peritali. The troll made a ‘well?’ face as she canted her head to the side.

Nolay could only shrug. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know what but we should go back to Thunder Bluff and tell one of the elders.”

“If it’s that nasty, den de elders’ll come get us.” Peritali protested. Nolay only glowered at the troll female until Peritali threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine!” the shaman exclaimed. “Fine. We’ll go back. I don’ like it none, d’ough.”

Nolay only shook her head and got to her hooves, looking toward the great rise that was Thunder Bluff. She was unnerved, but she wasn’t sure why. Still, something was setting events in a maelstrom motion, and she wanted to find out what, even if she wouldn’t be allowed to do anything about it.


Raichlos shuffled toward the inn’s window, filmy eyes staring out of equally filmy glass. He rubbed the glass absently, wiping away years of collected dust and cobwebs. He hated that his effort didn’t do much to clear the glass, but then, he really didn’t care. The Forsaken had long ago given up trying to keep anything but himself and his gear in exquisite shape, and it was a trend picked up by almost ever Forsaken that didn’t live solely in Undercity.

Keeping yourself from rotting to pieces or cleaning the windows to a living person’s idea of clean…? Hm. Hard choice that.
The priest was in rather spectacular shape for one who had been dead for nearly twelve years. He hadn’t lost a body part yet, but he was sure that would change soon. If not by the daily workings of life then by his warrior companion who somehow made herself scarce when it came to buying goods.

Raichlos wiped his fingers on his robes and turned to look at the shelves that lay bare. Forsaken didn’t need much, but it was nice to pretend they didn’t need to cannibalize their human kills. Raichlos smirked and remembered the way the Scarlet had tasted going down. Bitchy, with a hint of self-righteousness. He shook himself and drew away from the bare shelves, continuing to wander the shop that had nothing to offer.

The Light pulsed against his consciousness.

Raichlos frowned deeply, trying to pinpoint the source. Was a Highlord coming? Or was it a damned Scarlet raid again? Outside, he heard a shrill scream and the priest moved out of the shop to the street, staring with others as a warlock writhed in the dirt. The Forsaken male screeched and arched like he was being tortured, but Raichlos couldn’t sense anything out of place. Bone snapped as the warlock twisted at an odd angle, yet still he writhed. Finally, Raichlos moved, picking up his staff and bringing it down hard on the warlock’s skull. Over and over, the priest smashed the skull, until it was a fluidy, mushy mass.

And the damned warlock had stopped screaming.

Raichlos stared at the quickly rotting body with disgust. Others around him eyed the priest warily. When Raichlos locked eyes with one he assumed was the warlock’s companion, he twitched his finger in a silent command.

Quickly, the mage sprung over to the priest’s side. “What happened?” Raichlos asked, voice rusty and more a night whisper than much else.

The mage swallowed a few times. “He was fine until just before the crowd came. All of a sudden he started screaming, but not incoherently like…” the mage gestured to the mess of his friend. “Said something about revenge, about proper prisons. I don’t know what he meant, honest!”

The priest’s frown deepened. It was too late to ask the warlock. Raichlos growled softly. “Were there other incidents like this?”

“I don’t know. But I felt something weird a few weeks back, like something horrible woke up.”

Raichlos glowered at the mage. “That defines everything around here.”

If the mage had been capable, he probably would’ve flushed with embarrassment. Raichlos shook his head. The Light continued to pulse, as if warning him something was coming. But what? Raichlos knew he couldn’t get any answers here. Undercity was the likeliest place for answers, he figured, but Silvermoon was closer.

If anything, those mana-eating bastards would have something to do with what’s happening. This was probably their fault anyhow. Raichlos grumbled as he moved to retrieve his belongings and realized he’d be abandoning his own companion.

Oh well.

If she wasn’t with him, then there was nothing he could do.