Here is the fifth installment in Meghan's original story set in the
Warcraft world. If you haven't read or don't remember the story so far, be sure to check out
Chapter 1,
Chapter 2,
Chapter 3. and
Chapter 4. The story is told from the point of view of
Salith, a female half-elf, half-troll
rogue.
Deja Vu
Salith's eyelids fluttered and she groaned, lifting her head. An earsplitting headache had made its way into her skull and it was very distracting.
“Mordink” Said a voice to Salith's left. It sounded as if the person to whom the voice belonged had a very broken nose. Salith slowly turned her head towards the voice and, trying not to hurl, she spoke. “Morning...Who are you?”
Salith saw a small and frail-looking human. A tattered light-blue tunic and what looked like a wide variety of rags sewn together and loosely called pants, adorned her ragged figure. The human looked as if she had been thrown down a hole full of starving imps and left there for at least a day, then pulled up with a chain around her neck. Salith felt sorry for her, despite how Salith herself looked. The human took a little while to answer. She seemed to be looking Salith over, then finally, after a long pause, she replied, “Rowda.”
Salith inhaled deeply, still trying not to hurl. She nodded to the girl, “Salith. Nice to meet you, Rowda.” Rowda laughed, which segued into a large and lethal-sounding coughing fit. Having composed herself, she corrected Salith. “Do, R-o-w-n-a”
“Rowna?”
“Yes”
Salith assumed 'Do' was meant to be 'No'. She continued, “What happened to your nose?” Rowna shrugged “I was undonscious for most of it. I just dow it hurt, a lot.” It looked like it took a lot of effort for Rowna to talk, so Salith decided to leave her be for the moment.
She looked herself over. Salith was still wearing the prison clothes Ceradar's men had put on her--a simple brown shirt and pants, but the pants were shredded near her feet and the left sleeve of her shirt had been torn off completely. With a pang, Salith remembered that she had left Delaralas and Varawien to fend off all of those men by themselves. She surprised herself with how much she cared about the two that she hardly knew. A ferocious sneeze coupled with a sick splattering noise from Rowna's direction made Salith finally throw up. She spat on the floor repeatedly, disgusted.
The clattering of chains and bizarrely familier shuffling footsteps made Salith look up, and there before her was the undead she had seen talking to the mysterious worgen lady--and, to Salith's horrified surprise, Varawien.
“Vara!” Salith cried, remembering too late as she tried to pull towards her friend, that her bindings were rigged to cause her horrible pain if she moved. The undead laughed cruelly as Salith dropped her head, barely holding back a scream and fighting tenaciously to stay conscious. She had fainted too many times recently to do so again.
Varawien looked dead. She was pale and broken-looking, wearing nothing more than Salith herself. Various torture scars were showing on her bare arms, some even still dripping blood. Salith stared straight into Varawien's dull eyes and felt her spirits plummet.
She asked quietly, “Delaralas...?”
Varawien looked away. “Dead.”
