@daily-writing-challenge - Day 2 - Blame & Wander [ Potential Content Warnings Ahead: Blood, Gore, Mild Body Horror, Sexual Suggestions ] Early Morning in Orgrimmar was one of the few times the desert heat didnât make Orgrimmar horrible to live in. Crisp arid air rushed through its valleys, wafting through the many smells of large breakfasts being made for the many households that lay within. It was this reason that Mega took this route for his morning run, the smells and rushing morning air was enough to keep him distracted from the burning in his thighs and calves as he began to work himself into a sweat. Heavy breathing and a lack of a drink brought with him forces him to take a stop off at the Valley of Honor at the Wyvern's Tail. A place he tended to avoid in the evenings due to the overly abundant population of her occupants that came prowling for drinks or easy lays. Looking back, he could appreciate the place for what it was. Before Nat, he did much the same but got tired of the constant view of taller races who wore little to nothing and his head potentially being the resting place for someone's junk or ass. An unfortunate side effect of being a Goblin. While it did have its moments, those were heavily outweighed by the negatives, especially after a hot day of fighting or working in the heat. It was even worse on days that people decided bathing was optional. Just the thought alone nearly makes Megahes gag and forces him to cover his mouth just to clear his throat. His head shakes, causing his large ears to do the same in a more exaggerated motion before they come to rest. He heads up to the counter and helps himself to a large container of what smells like Black Rock Coffee. Typically great for waking up half-drunk Peons or Grunts, this stuff was strong enough to give Mega the pep in his step that he wanted without the need to resort to drugs or other crazy shit. The cupâs quickly taken over to a table under the stairs and he leans back against the wall with his cup in hand over his lap. His breathing was beginning to slow, allowing him to relax more and take in the scents and early morning conversations as Grunts discussed where they were patrolling for the day, catching the last remnants of drunks being pushed out to go elsewhere or up to the hammocks above that Gravy rented out. A sigh comes as lips hit the rim of his wooden mug and that energetic assault on his taste buds begins! âThatâs the spotâŠâ He sighs and with the tone of his voice, one just listening in could swear he was being serviced and in a way⊠He was. Mega smiles and leans back against the wall, enjoying the coolness of the wood under and behind him. Itâd be something heâd need to relish, because before long, heâd be back at the shop working inside, under or over machinery if not working the forge to beat and mold metal into whatever shapes were needed for the day amongst his other workers. Suddenly, an odd calm occurs and silence with it, prompting Mega to look up and around. Everyone was gone. Gravy, the Innkeeper, the drunks who refused to leave. Everyone. Itâs enough to make Mega call out, but no sound comes from his throat, only silence. This prompts a moment of panic as his hands reach up to feel his throat. Nothing seems wrong but this only makes him realize his coffee was suddenly missing too. What the hell was going on? Mega stands and heads for the door, looking out across the Valley. The howling wind blows through an empty Orgrimmar. Not a body stirs and everything looks as if it was just straight up abandoned. No clutter in the streets, no blood, no armor or gear. Just, straight up everyone left with everything they had. Concern begins to quickly manifest and Mega wanders into the street, calling out in silence still for people who are nowhere to be seen. No corpses, no burning buildings, not even a single buzzard, crow, bird or wyvern overhead either. This continues on in every building he passes. The building with the Ethereals? Empty, their machinery still abuzz with energy, but they themselves are missing. The
Bank? No tellers, the coin just left abandoned with its associated paperwork on the counter. The Baker, gone too, their loaves of bread left cooking. This continues on as Mega heads into the Valley of Strength, the reception hub for pretty much all and any business coming into Orgrimmar. This prompts even more concern and Mega goes straight for Grommash Hold. If there was anyone, thereâd be all the racial representatives and the city guard along with some Korâkron too. Unfortunately, thatâs not the case as the closer Mega gets, the more the scent of Blood and gore begins to fill the air along with the sickly sweet scent of cracked skulls and grey matter. For those unused to it, the scent was nearly vomit-inducing and it was enough to force Mega to take his breathing in through his mouth like some idiotic Trogg but even then, the scent was so thick on the air that he was still catching it despite the effort. The closer he got, the worse it became and despite every red flag telling him to leave and run, his curiosity propels him forward! He moves in, taking note that the dark wooden floor below wasnât just dark due to its nature, but it was slick and pooling with blood and viscera. The deeper into the building he went, the worse it became until his trek forced him to stop. There at the doorway into the Warchiefâs Chamber was a massive pile of bodies. Racial Leaders and their Guards slain in horrific ways. Some of them strung up for bloody rituals as their entrails were used to carve out runes or sigils. Others torn and mangled, barely even a shadow of their former selves due to the mutilation. Mega felt the need to purge his stomach of his earlier coffee but what he finds in the center of the room upon a pile of bodies makes his blood go cold. âY-you.â He tries to steel himself, voice quivering as his hands ignite with Fire and Holy Magic as it suddenly finds volume despite its earlier silence. âWe killed you. Zokkine melted your fucking bug infested face and we left you a burning husk in AhnâQiraj.â Dinthoqaf the Defiler; the Cult Leader of the Sanctum of the Forbidden, crazed fanatic of the Old Gods. Megahes and Dinthoqaf went back several years now and he was singularly responsible for Megas current physical and spiritual condition as of present. The elf looks upon Megahes with putrid green eyes and the stare alone makes his heart and chest hurt right where⊠where⊠Megahesâ hand rushes to grab at himself. Was he having a heart attack? He gasps and grunts, pulling open his shirt to find not the Naaâru shard that was fused to his chest to purge him of Dinthoqafâs Curse, but a gaping wound that reeked of bile and pus that bubbled with sores. His hands lost their Holy flare and the fire began to sputter out as Megaâs strength quickly fades and he hits the gore soaked floor with his knees. His ears droop and despite his efforts to stand, all he can do is flounder and continue to keep falling as the Cultist walks down the heap as if it were nothing but dirt. âPoor Little Thing⊠To think, you have fought so valiantly and for what? ThisâŠ?â Dinthoqafâs arms come out in a hollow gesture. âDeath and Destruction to be laid at your feet.â Something was wrong here. This wasnât the Elf he killed, he was.. Different. Megas bright red eyes peer up at him, unable to move as if by some oppressive aura holding him down. âYou donât get it, do you?â He asks, his tone condescending before the Elf squats, letting his robes slip into the crimson pools around them, gliding across its surface and pushing back the pools just to be overtaken moments later for the fabric to drink it all in. âIn all of our fear of one another.â His fingers come forward and he presses them into Megaâs wound, causing pus to gush down his front and pain to rack Megaâs frame. âYou and I are caught in a cycle with one another. Your âLightâ and my âDarknessâ. Parts of the same coin you know.â His slender fingers slide up along Megahesâ body and he jerks back on his hair, giving him access to put himself cheek to cheek with this Goblin. âYou blame me, for this,
for you? For how your body fails you less you cling to your ânew-foundâ faith. How long will it last you Goblin? How long until you realize that I acquired the rights to my Title long before you even breathed your first breath! How long until you figure this out?!â His voice was stern and hard, aggressive and angry to the point he splashes spittle into the Goblins ear before he shoves him onto his back in the blood where his bloody foot presses into Megas stomach and his toes play chicken with the edge of his gaping chest wound. âBehold, Megahes. The rebirth of Dinthoqaf the Defiler for by your hand are all my future atrocities yours to shoulder.â His voice sliced into Mega like a new razor as he looked on and up in horror. The Defilers body begins to melt and erode, turning into ooze, rot and pus that did not just fall away but begins to head for the very wound he made years ago. Megahes thrashes, trying to tear and push away at the mass that was trying to creep into his body and fight he did but it was no good. Little by little, he could feel his body become invaded and nested within by his greatest enemy and even larger fear. Megahes flails and kicks and releases a blood curdling scream as he rips at his clothes and tears stream from his face as he knocks over the table in front of him and sends his coffee all over himself. The burning liquid doesnât even register to him as he makes for the door in an absolute fit of terror, gripping at his chest just to find the Naaâru shard embedded within still and his wrists glowing. The metal and Light were still working and everything was in place, but here Mega was standing in the Valley and looking at the Tail in horror and confusion as several others also looked on, wondering what the hell was going on. Megahesâ breathing was worse now than it had been during his running. His heart beat pounding in his ears and fear blasted through his veins. He wanted to run, he wanted to fight. He just wanted to survive and live, no matter what that meant but against what? Dinthoqaf was dead. They took what little of his head remained and his corpse was left to buzzards. His curse now imprisoned and locked away, not even capable of hurting Megahes anymore so long as his protections kept their power. âWas a⊠Gold fucking damn itâŠâ His breathing is hard and heavy as his hands find his knees, making him bend over to catch his breath. âFucking nightmares.â Megahes turns, making his way north towards the rear gates or Orgrimmar so he can head to the Harbor⊠He had work to do and now his stay at the Tail would surely be frowned upon, it was time to go. [ Thank you for reading through all of this story with me today! This is Day 2 of the DWC and I'm absolutely loving it so far! I hope you also enjoyed this glimpse of the horror show that likes to show its ugly face for Megahes every now and again! Todays words for use were Blame & Wander! :D ]
