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Something to feel.

The End.

Posted on 2007.09.05 at 10:58
LOCATION: into the river
SOUNDS: A Perfect Circle - "A Stranger"
((January 2007))

The brackish waters of Lake Darrowmere sloshed against the craggy southern shore a bit more roughly than they should have been on a day without wind. It was sunrise, the heavy brown fog suspended in the east showing just a bit more light than from any other direction. The sounds of strange and awful creatures could be heard once more throughout the Plague-ridden region, the typical chitters and groans that the living, few though there were still in these forsaken lands, had grown accustomed to.

Further south along the shore the land drops to a rocky waterfall, and the great lake drains into a river. This river snakes through the mountains of Alterac and splits the Hillsbrad Foothills in two before emptying into the ocean. Few, it seems, have stopped to consider the ramifications of the diseased waters of Darrowmere spreading this far over the land. Few contemplate what effect these waters may have on the environments to which they are exposed. Few ponder on how the flora around the river, the fish within the river, or the beasts that eat the fish have been altered by this exposure. Few even know the name of this river, or from where it flows. The peoples of Azeroth have more pressing matters to which they must direct their attention.

It is for this reason that subtle manipulations most often go relatively unnoticed. It is in the corners of our eyes that lurk the precursors of change. It is here that the most devious machinations take root, and nutured by ignorance grow into the next great threat.

In the nameless river, further through the mountains where the water became shallow, a stark black tauren stood. He was a towering shadow in the misty morning light, small by tauren standards only, and the water managed to come naerly to his knees. His face, fur, mane, all of him was black, of a distinguishable variety. Indeed, Yeth was a Grimtotem scout and bodyguard, and certainly looked the part. But Yeth had been a lot of things, and his duties, like his name, often changed but rarely gave away who he really was. That was the point; even when he was known as Quiza, even before his "death" at the hand of "Bloody" Bella Bloodhoof, his intentions had been something of an enigma.

Kneeling in the gently flowing waters, Yeth pulled a lazily floating body up from the river. It was a young girl, clearly dead, with messy, charcoal-black hair and snowy-white skin. She was utterly soaked, and badly burned in such a curious way, as if she was lashed all over her body with whips of fire. Skin and flesh were torn back and hanging away, the little body hanging awkwardly limp in his arms.

She was just barely recognizable to Yeth as Brennen Rivers. During his time in the Undercity Apothecarium as Yes's bodyguard he had seen the girl on many occasions. She seemed something of a pet to Yes, or perhaps even a little sister, though circumstances had seemed to be taxing on their relationship, Brennen didn't seem to like the work Yes did.

Brennen had regarded Yeth as "somewhat familiar" when they first met, in a way that should have made him nervous. In fact, Yeth knew more about the girl than she perhaps knew about herself, and so he knew just how much she knew, and just how capable she was of figuring him out. She never made the connection.

The girl, lifeless though her body appeared, was undead. Lifelessness had nothing to do with whether she was alive or not. Yeth was intimately familiar with how difficult it was to truly kill the undead. He was also familiar with what sort of damage it would take to do so. Whatever did this to her had been thoroughly damaging.

But that wasn't any of his concern. What mattered was that she was here, and she did not have the notebook. But her condition, as well as the direction from which she came, all seemed to indicate that the one who did have the notebook was close by, perhaps in the Plaguelands. Yeth was, it seemed, on the right track.

Gazing down again at the broken, pitiful little doll in his arms, Yeth reached up and plucked something from a barely intact, mottled leather collar at the girl's neck. It was a round stone, which shone with a unnatural green glimmer. A moonstone, a rare artifact of a forgotten religion. They would certainly want him to bring it to them.

Yeth placed the girl gently back into the river, his expression as calm and impassive as the waters which slowly carried the girl downstream, to Hillsbrad, and then to the ocean beyond.

The young tauren stepped ashore, shaking the water from his dark boots, and turned back one last time to watch Brennen float quietly into the morning mountain mists. He envied her, in a way. She was free to drift into quiet, merciful oblivion. For Yeth, that just wasn't in the cards.

"Tell Isha," he said silently to her, "that I am sorry." He knew that no one else would have heard his words, and that Yes would never receive his message. The words themselves simply sounded sweet in the chilled mountain air, just above the gentle murmur of the river. He had wanted to say them.

Yeth noticed further downstream what appeared to be the shadow of a figure standing in the mist. Tapping a small metallic device on his belt, Yeth turned away from the figure and, with a sudden crackle of light and sound, promptly vanished into thin air.

The sun rose and set that day. The peoples of Azeroth attended to the pressing matters of the world. Nobody ever knew of the events which had transpired, or would soon after transpire. These events remain unrecorded in the books of history, forever in the corners of our eyes, wherein lurk the precursors of change.


madrabibuz at 2011-11-01 03:39 (UTC) (Follow the voices.)
Thanks for an idea, you sparked at thought from a angle I hadn’t given thoguht to yet. Now lets see if I can do something with it.

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