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Moonsong	By : Starryraven Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6933 -:- 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-Moonsong
- 2-Rude Awakenings
- 1
- 2
The night was still
and clear, hardly a breeze stirring the lush vegetation of Ashenvale,
though the shadows still seemed to dance and twirl in the silver glow
of the moonlight. Crouching in the shadows, Sasari could hear the
guttural tongue of the orcs as they tramped about their guard post,
heavy blades swinging in their meaty paws, the cold steel glinting in
the torchlight. She swallowed harshly, chewing her lip with anxiety
as she looked slowly around for some sign of her mother. Sasari knew
she had to be close by; Andariel would never let her daughter out of
sight, nor would the great white cat always at her side. Sasari
didn’t dare utter even a whispered plea for her mother, knowing
the foul orcs likely had scouts of their own surrounding the area,
she would just have to trust in her mother’s senses, trust in
her mother’s capable blades should things go awry.

Sasari spun around at
the slight whisper of vegetation parting behind her, her clumsy hands
fumbling for the small daggers at her belt. She gritted her teeth in
anticipation, attempting to steel her fragile nerves for a
confrontation. The tension slid from her cramped muscles as Cai’s
white muzzle appeared before her face, his icy blue eyes slightly
luminous with the moonlight. Sasari sighed in relief, reaching a hand
forward to fondly stroke the great cat’s velvety nose. He
growled, a low rumbling in his deep chest, a warning sound urging her
to remain quiet. She chewed her lip, her anxiety returning in full
force at his poignant reminder of her current situation. She settled
herself facing forward once more, her glowing gaze attentively
searching the Horde camp before her. Something was wrong. Where had
the two patrolling guards gone?

She leaned forward,
daring to part the bushes in front of her for a better view, her skin
tingling with a sense of foreboding and the beginning fires of panic.
As she urgently scanned the outpost for signs of the missing guards,
her long, delicately pointed ears twitched slightly in strain to hear
any approaching footfalls. Cai’s low snarl alerted her to the
presence of one of her missing guards, strolling slowly, warily
through the bush only a dozen or so feet from her hiding place. She
crouched low to the ground, her long dark blue hair snagging on the
bushes painfully. Inwardly she groaned, I’m not cut out for
this sort of thing…but I can’t just leave Mother to face
this task alone…she needs me, just as she needs Cai.
Sasari was indeed cut out for stealthy studies such as this, her
delicately muscled frame smaller than most others of her kind at just
under six feet tall; but she had not the training of an assassin, no
skill with the daggers she carried beyond what was required to keep
from injuring herself. She ignored the stinging in her scalp, keeping
herself still so as not to alert the orc to her presence.

Cai crouched low, a
guttural growl emanating from deep within his chest as he inched
towards the orc. Sasari winced, biting her lip as she watched him go,
He’s right…we’ll see blood before the night is
through. As she watched, a dark-shafted, white-fletched arrow
buried itself in the unsuspecting orc’s throat, a present from
Andariel who stood silhouetted in the moonlight on a sturdy branch
across the path. The gurgling death cry of the orc was enough to
break the silence of the night, alerting the second of the missing
guards to his companion’s peril. He curled is thick green lips,
bearing his sharply pointed tusks with a feral snarl as he charged
towards Andariel’s perch with his wickedly curved axe swinging
in his calloused grasp.

Sasari leapt from her
hiding place without a thought, ignoring the searing tug at her scalp
as she forcefully tore her tangled hair from the branches of her
shelter, ignoring the warning growl from Cai, ignoring all common
sense. She pulled her daggers from her belt with an inarticulate cry
and charged at the orc’s back. Cai bounded in front of her with
a snarl, his large and wickedly curved claws extended to rend the
flesh of the green brute turning dumbly to face Sasari as Cai tumbled
into the orc, a flurry of claws, teeth, steel, and blood.

Andariel called out
sharply to her daughter in their native tongue, bidding her to
retreat back into the shadows and away from harm as she set an arrow
to her bow, pulling back swiftly to take aim at the storm of violence
below her. Sasari turned to heed her mother’s command, her
temporary rush of adrenaline washed swiftly away by a torrent of
panic when she realized the dire nature of their situation. She ran a
few paces back to the forest, confident in her mother’s ability
to dispatch one lowly orc, but as she turned to look back over her
shoulder she saw more rushing forward, alerted by the screams of
their dying comrade. She stood still as if rooted to the ground,
biting her lip in hesitation, torn between the apparent safety of the
forest and the obvious peril her mother now faced.

Her decision was made
for her as strong arms wrapped about her slender waist, trapping her
arms against her slim hips. She cried out to her mother while kicking
viciously at her captor, squirming violently in an attempt to break
free. A dizzying blow thudded against her skull and she slumped into
her captor’s arms, her long tangled hair cascading over her
face and hiding her mother from view. Her head swam with the guard’s
forceful blow, a warm rivulet of blood streaming down her cheek from
her temple to further mat her disheveled hair. She struggled to lift
her head, her vision blurry and sporadic at best, the forest scene
dancing before her eyes.

She
bit her lip bloody to hold back the tears welling in her shining eyes
as she watched her mother leaping through the underbrush, her twin
swords glinting red in the moonlight with the blood of her opponents.
She continued her struggle against her opponent as she felt some
semblance of strength seeping into her weary limbs, clawing and
kicking in desperation to break free and run to her mother’s
side. The battle was going poorly for Andariel, the savage orcs
greater both in numbers and in strength than the slight elven woman,
however fiercely she fought.

An
anguished roar rang out into the night, followed closely by a
triumphant shout from an orcish tongue. Cai. The great white cat was
hidden from Sasari’s sight, but she knew that sound, knew what
it meant. Her mother fought alone. Sasari grunted in pain as her
captor, having grown tired of her pitiful struggles, tightened his
powerful arms around her waist, squeezing the air from her delicate
body. She heard and felt the sickening pop as one, and then another
of her ribs cracked under the brutal pressure. She wheezed,
struggling to draw breath as she hung limp in the orc’s deadly
grasp. Her captor began to drag her towards the camp, slinging her
over one meaty shoulder like a sack of grain. She cried out in pain
as the position jarred her ribs, calling to her mother in a breathy
rush of Darnassian with little hope of being heard.

Andariel
did hear her daughter’s call, however, her gaze snapping
towards the forest to witness her daughter being carried into the
darkness by one of the meaty green brutes. She snarled with rage and
the primal need to protect her child, the piteous sight of Sasari
reaching towards her hopelessly blinding her with a mother’s
fury. She disengaged the orc she had been fighting, dropping her
blades and pulling her bow from her shoulder to take aim at the orc
carrying her daughter away from her.

Seeing
what her mother meant to do, Sasari ignored the searing pain in her
chest and pulled herself up onto her captor’s shoulder to give
her mother a clear shot at his broad back, furiously kicking her legs
to distract the brute from his impending doom. Andariel, however,
never got a chance to loose her shot.

As
she drew back her bowstring to take aim at the retreating orc she
sensed the others at her back, knew they would charge for her with
their blades eagerly extended to tear into her flesh. She cared
little, Sasari was all that mattered. She drew the fletching of her
arrow back nearly to her cheek, taking careful aim lest she hit her
daughter instead, standing firm against the heavy footfalls tramping
ever nearer her undefended back.

Sasari
watched in horror as the orcs ran to her mother who seemed not to
notice, opening her mouth to cry out a warning though she knew it was
already too late. The arrow fell from her mother’s bow,
quivering point-down in the lush green turf of Ashenvale as the
savage blade of the Horde guard sprouted from Andariel’s chest.
Sasari squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head violently in
disbelief at the sight of her mother face down on the forest floor,
the red of her life’s blood pooling sluggishly around her prone
form, glowing in the silver light of the moon.

NO!
No it can’t happen like this! Sasari struggled viciously
against her captor, screaming and sobbing in an attempt to break
free, to run to her mother and assure herself that it was just like
all the other wounds she’d faced, that she’d be up and
about the very next day with her usual smug grin. She’ll be
alright, she has to be! Elune grant it to be so! She fell against
her captor's with a wracking sob, pounding her fists futilely against
his heavily muscled back. This can't be happening... how could this
go so wrong?
Hollow words echoed in her head, the parting
instructions given to her mother by the Sentinels, "Tread
carefully, Andariel, they are ever vigilant, but so long as you keep
your wits about you we foresee no difficulties..." No
difficulties... she's DEAD!

Sasari
bit her lip against her sobs as the triumphant Horde procession made
its way into the hazy circle of firelight. She hid her face in her
hands as her captor slid her off his broad shoulder and threw her to
the ground at his feet before the other guards. She wouldn't give
them the pleasure of seeing her tears. She let out a sharp cry as a
solidly shod foot slammed into her already injured ribs, crawling to
her hands and knees with a wheezing cough. She looked up then, into
the sickly green face of the behemoth that had carried her from the
forest, who had been the indirect cause of her mother's death. The
orc leered down at her with small, squinting eyes, his rubbery lips
pulled back in a sickening visage of victory and smug satisfaction.


        She bared her own
small white teeth in a feral snarl, spitting at the orc before her
with no thought to her own situation. Her mind was elsewhere, with
her mother's fallen body. She pulled her small daggers from her belt
and clumsily threw herself at the orc, determined to do at least a
small amount of damage before her seemingly inevitable death. The orc
merely laughed at her desperate charge, grabbing her wrists and
spreading them wide, pulling her against his chest as he looked down
into her upturned face. He bared his teeth in a wolfish grin,
squeezing his paws around her wrists until she winced with pain and
let her daggers fall to the ground.


        He looked up from her
to his comrades, speaking something in his barbaric tongue that made
them all howl with fiendish laughter. Sasari trembled in his grasp,
drawing a satisfied smirk from his ugly face. She knew not what he
said, but the tone was enough to let her see that her death wouldn't
come this night... nor would it come as quickly as she desired.


        The brute signaled
one of his companions with a fumbling gesture, still holding her
wrists in his punishing grasp. The wiry troll grinned with malicious
pleasure and disappeared into a nearby shack, emerging soon after
with a ring of solid iron in his bony hands. He pried the ends of the
ring apart, bending the sturdy metal with an ease that reminded the
trembling elf of the nature of her captors. The orc that held her, a
captain of some sort by the respect the others showed him, let loose
her wrists and spun her about, shoving her to the ground with one
swift and forceful movement.

She
grunted in pain, her vision swimming as the impact knocked the breath
from her lungs. The captain knelt next to her head, gripping her hair
in one calloused hand and jerking the waist-length mass harshly to
bare the back of her neck. She felt the weight of another orc settle
across her calves, pinning her to the ground as the skinny troll with
the band of iron approached. She tried to push herself up, but
another orc simply stepped in to pin her wrists behind her back. The
grinning troll, a shaman of some sort by his painted face and air of
wild magic, knelt to the other side of her head as the captain lifted
her face from the ground with another tug at her hair.


        Sasari squeezed her
eyes shut as the shaman slid the collar around her neck, motioning
for a hot iron brand from the nearest campfire. Another orc handed it
to him with a vicious leer and stood back to watch with satisfaction
as the shaman pressed the brand to the un-joined ends of the iron
ring. Sasari howled as the metal heated against the delicate flesh at
the nape of her neck, the scent of her own burning skin choking her.
The guards laughed with delight, amused to see this haughty young elf
girl at their mercy. She wept face down into the dusty ground at the
edge of the Barrens until some time after the shaman removed the
brand from her new collar, until the searing bite of the burn faded
into a relentless throb and the equally painful realization set in
that she now belonged to them, to do with as they pleased.


        The guards walked
away from her, leaving her to lie pitifully on the ground with the
knowledge that she wouldn't have the heart to attempt an escape.
Their utter lack of concern stung Sasari as surely as the hot metal
around her neck; they knew she was worthless and weak. She pulled
herself gingerly into a sitting position, hugging her legs to her
chest and resting her forehead on her knees. She trembled with pain
and fear, not of death, but of life among her brutal captors. She
breathed shallowly to spare her injured ribs, the tears finally
drying on her cheeks. She mentally took stock of her wounds, her ribs
would be painful and annoying, but not life-threatening, the cut at
her temple was shallow and had already ceased bleeding, her neck
ached with the searing throb of the burn, the collar tight against
her flesh. She knew she wouldn't die unless they meant her to, a sort
of twisted mercy as she knew death would serve her better.

Her
gaze fell to the dully shining blades of her daggers lying in the
dust where she dropped them. She glanced surreptitiously around the
campsite, noting the positions of the guards and those gathered
jovially around the campfires. She crawled slowly towards her
weapons, praying not to be seen, knowing them to be her only
salvation within this prison. Let them do as they please with my
lifeless body... I'll not give them the satisfaction of keeping me as
a plaything. She dared a triumphant smile as the leather wrapped
handle of the closest dagger came slowly within reach, her fingers
outstretched to grasp the hilt. She smiled grimly at the blade held
in her hand, lifting it to press the point against her chest. A
stunningly powerful blow struck the side of her head setting her ears
ringing and senses reeling. She slumped forward, the dagger again
lying in the dirt near her hand. Through the disorientation she could
hear the voice of the captain snarling at her and then at his
followers.


        The captain's booted
foot thudded into her abdomen, drawing a breathy cry of protest and
pain from Sasari. He bent to again grab her hair and jerk her head
around to face him, pulling her to her feet. He spoke lowly, angrily
in his barbaric tongue with repeated gestures towards her daggers and
herself. A gangly troll came to scoop up her weapons and carry them
away to her utter dismay. The captain, noting her attention
elsewhere, yanked her hair again, adding a back-handed slap of his
gauntleted fist. She dizzily looked into his eyes, flinching at the
sight of his obvious rage. He grabbed her chin with his calloused
fingers, pulling her face close to his until they sat nose to nose
and he glared at her with a feral snarl, squeezing her chin
painfully. With the other hand he poked a bruising finger into her
collarbone, and then pointed his thumb back to his chest. The message
was clear though his words were alien; "You're mine."

She
closed her eyes and hung her head, all strength and resolve seeping
from her wounded body. He let her slide to the ground on her knees,
her gaze falling blankly on the dirt in front of her. She sat numbly,
calmly, until he returned from the campfire some time later to
retrieve her. She dumbly acknowledged his presence, her mind reeling
from so sudden and devastating a change, as he roughly grabbed her
wrist and pulled her to the fire. To her dismay she was greeted with
the sight of more iron bands, smaller this time, but every bit as
strong. He pushed her to her knees in front of the fire and motioned
for her to hold out her hands. When she didn't respond he cuffed one
long, delicately pointed ear with a rumbling growl and knelt behind
her, grabbing her elbows and offering her hands to the shaman.


The leather-faced troll leered at her as he grabbed her hand and laid
one iron band around her wrists, then using both hands to squeeze the
shackle closed. Sasari winced as he reached for the hot brand,
glowing golden at the tip, and brought it to rest against the seam at
the underside of her wrist. She choked back a sob as the metal heated
against her flesh, searing her delicate skin. She bowed her head,
letting her long hair cascade forward to hide her face as her
shoulders shook with her quiet tears. The captain let go of one
elbow, reaching around to grasp her chin and pull her face towards
him to witness her pain. She looked to him, tears streaming down her
cheeks as she stared pleadingly into his eyes; Why? He held
her gaze as the shaman finished with the first shackle, moving onto
the next with the same procedure. Sasari bit her lip as he laid the
hot iron to her wrist, but no more tears would come.

The
blue-skinned shaman attached a sturdy chain to a small loop in the
shackle on her left wrist, and then linked it to the right. She
hadn't felt the band around her neck, but she knew there would be a
similar loop there, as well. Her wrists ached with the heavy burden
of the shackles and chain, the searing throb of the burns at the
undersides of her wrists aggravated by the weight. The captain
released her chin, pointing a thick finger towards her feet, tugging
at the heel of her boot to clarify his meaning. She shook her head
after noting two more iron bands laying readily near the campfire,
squeezing her eyes shut and speaking for the first time that night;
“No… please, no more…” she bowed her head,
her dark hair sliding off her shoulders to hang around her face,
“You’ve already made it hopeless.”

The
captain growled, baring his pointed tusks in a wolfish snarl and
pushed her onto her side with a forceful shove of her shoulder. She
winced, propping herself up on her elbow and holding her ribs with
her other arm as the captain went about tugging off her tightly laced
leather boots. She didn’t stop him; she merely laid there and
let him remove her boots, staring blankly. She rested her head on the
dusty ground as they bound the iron bands around her ankles, staring
into the leaping flames of the fire. She bit her lip with a quiet
whimper at each new burning sensation, never taking her eyes from the
fire as she watched it dance within the circle of stones; dance as
her mother had danced to her death with the orcs.

She
was pulled from her dream-like state as the captain wrapped his hand
around her upper arm and yanked her to her feet. He brought her close
against his chest once more, grinning down at her with obvious
delight. He poked one large thumb into his chest with a proud smile.
“Kern,” he said, “Kern.” She looked up at him
with emotionless eyes and he poked a finger into her chest
expectantly. She stared dumbly with a slight shake of her head before
whispering, “No one, not anymore.”

He
frowned in confusion, poking her again with the same curious look.
With a disgusted sigh she muttered, “Sasari.” He slipped
a hand around her throat and lifting her onto her toes. The pressure
made her new collar rub painfully against the burn at the nape of her
neck, drawing a wince and small gasp from her as she struggled to
draw breath. “Sehsury,” he growled with a malicious
sneer. She grabbed at his hand around her throat, nodding as much as
she was able. He let her back down to the ground, releasing her neck
with a smug smirk. She coughed, her hands going to her throat as she
looked up at him. He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and began
pulling her towards a nearby hut.

She
stumbled after him, her long stride shortened by the chains linking
her ankles. She tripped once, nearly falling on her face as she
over-stepped the reach of her chains. He caught her, grabbing and
entirely surrounding her narrow waist with both hands as he lifted
her over his shoulder and carried her the rest of the way. When they
reached the hut he kicked open the ill-fitting door and threw her
unceremoniously to the ground. She coughed violently, resting on her
hands and knees with her back to Kern until the fit had passed. She
laid down on her side, curling into a ball while hugging her ribs,
her eyes watering from the pain induced by her coughing.

He
brutally kicked the small of her back, drawing forth a cry of pain
and surprise from Sasari, who simply curled tighter, covering her
head with her arms. He snarled something in his foreign tongue and
turned to leave, slamming the door shut with a furious growl. Sasari
crawled to the wall opposite the door, curling her back in the curve
of the round hut. She collapsed in a fit of weeping and coughing,
pillowing her head on one arm and covering it with the other. All she
could see was the last vision she’d had of her mother,
face-down on the forest floor. All she knew was pain, sorrow, and
utter loneliness until the black abyss of exhaustion finally
overwhelmed her injured body and tortured mind, echoing even then
with the cheerful laughter of her captors.

----

Building the scene, with much more to come. I do hope you enjoy it.
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Moonsong