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The Darker Side of War	By : NoiseTank13 Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Darker Side of War
- 2-Requiem of Innocence Lost
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The Darker Side of War

The hot, murky Stranglethorn night was almost intolerable. The air was thick, the atmosphere underneath the jungle canopy was torture in itself, and a perverse smell of death lingered, refusing to fade into the dark sky above. The cruel setting did nothing to curb the human rogue’s mood. It was a mood most accurately described as homicidal lust, something he rarely felt as the cold war raged silently behind the armies’ backs. An orc lay before him, gasping his last from a hole in his chest with the lung visibly cut open. Nearby, a tiger lay slain, the blood oozing from its gaping wounds.

He gritted his teeth, and opened a vial of the bitterest, most vile poison he could have possibly concocted, and with a cloth, began to vigorously rub the toxin on his blades until they had partially dried up so they can still infect the open wounds. Something stirred beside him, and he could faintly make out the slight whirring sound of a mace bearing down him. Nothing but speed saved the human from certain death as he tumbled out in the clearing, a loud thwack! and a tree splintered from the impact. He raised his daggers up to defend himself, when the troll warrioress, blue skin and a sharp, almost seductive face charged into his chest, swinging her arms down in what would be a fatal blow. To the human’s temporary relief, she narrowly missed his head, slamming into the soft earth and throwing up dirt into her face. Distracted, she reached with her hands to wipe the dirt from her eyes.

The rogue, sensing possible victory, drew a dagger from its sheath on his back, and lunged forward, intending the blade to enter the jugular of his assailant. However, the troll regained eyesight faster than he expected, and she deflected the attack by grabbing his arm, pulling him, and punching him square in the face. Staggering back, the rogue hazily saw the troll charge directly into him, knocking the breath.

The impact knocked the pair of them off the mossy cliff, (which was cleverly disguised by the foliage) and down the rolling hill, jarring bones and scraping skin as the two tumbled down to harsh and sudden stop at the bottom, the steamy night above them and the wild savage on top of him. The human rogue felt the cold steel at his throat, digging in slightly but not so much as to let blood. Seconds went by, the sheer weight of his assailant preventing him from moving. And then the troll cackled gleefully and gyrated her hips, provoking a response in the form of a guttural groan of approval from the human who snuck his hands around her and squeezed both buttocks of the troll warrior.

“Did I not warn you?” the troll purred playfully in her native tongue. “The next time I saw you, your head shall be adorned onto my spear.”

“Yes, I heard your threat. I decided to ignore it, however,” the human rogue grinned back. “You know as well as I do that I don’t listen to empty threats well,” and he gave an extra hard, almost painful squeeze of her buttocks. The troll stood at least a head taller than him, and the rogue was considered to be a giant among his own race! He knew he was in danger, and talking back to a very intelligent troll with her knife against his throat was probably the last thing he should do. Yet he continued in near flawless troll, “I have no doubt I will be escaping inevitably. It is, what I do best.”

The troll’s smooth face crinkled into gleeful smile, the knife was gone from his throat, replaced with a hand with an iron grip, enveloping his entire neck and being squeezed slightly. The human took calm, collected breaths, not daring to show weakness in front of the aggressor.

“You made a big mess in Orgrimmar,” the troll hissed, her face millimeters away from his, “Killing the vault guards and looting the main bank, a heroic act, definitely worthy of praise. But here you are, your head in my grasp. What do you have to say to that, human?”

The rogue responded by licking her face, collecting sweat, dirt, and even a bit of blood from the fighting before, giving the troll the effect he was looking for: surprise. The trolls big, amber eyes magnified significantly, and soliciting an even more maniacal cackle, the laughter echoing into the trees above and scattering the nocturnal fowl in the Vale.

“Such impudence! Refreshing, to be sure, human.”

The human grinned. “Come off it, Cujaxa. Or perhaps it should be, ‘Come on it’?”

He felt himself lift off the ground, Cujaxa’s hand still around his throat. He gave minimal struggle, and that was only to loosen the grip so he didn’t choke to death. He gave a cocky, even it was unwarranted one, grin, and Cujaxa wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Give me a reason,” she growled. “Give me a reason, and I swear I will do it!” and brandished a heavy, wicked curved sword. The blade was chipped, but the edge was razor sharp.

“By all means,” the rogue replied. “Do it.”

The troll frowned, then exploded into a wide smile, displaying two perfect rows of sharp teeth, the tusks chipped off so they didn’t protrude from her mouth. “Guts, Mournestone. You have a lot of them. How pretty do you think they would look draped over the green jungle?”

“Would they look as pretty as you?” the question was intended to be poisonously sarcastic; he fully aware of how exactly his guts would look like spilled around the jungle canopy, and the expression on her face for a brief millisecond told him that she caught it. Then she smiled.

“I think so…”

Mournestone gulped visibly, and lost his cool. His head went limp in her hands, knowing he had been defeated, and he swayed.

“But you know, shame a human like you should die… Shame, shame…”

“Hah… like old times, Cujaxa?” the rogue said sadly.

“Like old times, human Mournestone. You were loyal to me. More so than most of the other rotten pigs that served under me and above me.”

Mournestone caught his breath. “What do you want? The valuables are all gone… The Grand Marshal of the Alliance saw to it… I have nothing but a bit of poison, and my blade…”

He felt himself lower and brought to her face. “I want nothing but you to serve me. Renounce the Alliance, like you had renounced the Horde.”

“Ludicrous. The Horde… They’d eat me alive!”

“Do not swear your allegiance to the Horde. Not when your allegiances can be bought with a few stinking gold. Swear it to me!”

The rogue swallowed. “Allegiance… to you?”

“Yes… To ME!” The troll’s blade found it’s way to his neck, and this time, she punctured the skin, drawing blood that seeped over the blade. She moved her face closer and started to lick the blood, her blue tongue trailing along the cold steel, and up to Mournestone’s face, where she grabbed hold of his lip and bit down with savage force, drawing a gush of blood. “Do you,” Cujaxa said with a seductive purr, “Swear your life, your body, your spirit, to Cujaxa the Bayonet, human? Or do you die the death of a dog?”

The human smiled back in defeat. “Ya’ know, I could never place a appropriate value on my life… Very well… On pain of death, torture, and assorted practices of voodoo upon my soul, I hereby give my life, body and soul to you, Cujaxa… again…”

Cujaxa the Bayonet glared at him gleefully and then began choking him. He gasped for breath, and began to struggle violently, the bitter, metallic blood from his cut lip going down his throat unbidden. Cujaxa then forced her lips upon his, her tongue lapping up the blood she was squeezing out.

“It is good to have my loyal follower come back to me, again,” she said, breaking off the cannibalistic kiss. “You won’t escape me, anymore…” and with that, went all out and smothered his neck in her grip, and choked him unconscious. Cujaxa the Bayonet, Senior Sergeant of the Horde, then picked him and slung him over his shoulder. She sneered. “You belong to Cujaxa, pink-skin…”

And she stole off into the night, her new toy in tow.
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The Darker Side of War