Pixelated Executioner » Esmerellda

Friday Fiction – Memory and Fate, Part 3 – Pix and Esmerellda

Pixelated Executioner — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 17:43:00 +0000

In case you missed them, here are parts 1 and 2.

My friend is fighting for her life.

Malyss has been pushing her attacks hard ever since her rune weapon copy appeared. Strike after strike, each one coming from a different quarter… Lelissa can’t keep up. She parries the rune weapon, and takes a solid hit from Malyss’ swing. She dodges Malyss’ next attack, and the rune weapon clips her shoulder and sends her spinning. She manages to catch herself before she falls, and she looks up at me… I see in Lelissa’s eyes something I’ve never seen before.

Fear.

Through all this time that we’ve been together, even when we were outnumbered, in unfamiliar territory, or venturing through the frozen lands of Northrend, Lelissa always was so nonchalant about the dangers we were facing. She would always charge headfirst into the thick of battle, never showing a hint of doubt or fear of the outcome… but today, my friend knows she is outmatched, and she is deeply afraid.

For both of us.

It was the purplish glint of khorium jutting out of the side of the rocky hillside that had led Esmerellda to be perched on a rock that was, of course, not as close to the vein as it had appeared to be from the ground. While she was sure there had to be an easier way of getting to it without a leap of faith and hoping she wouldn’t slide past it, she simply wasn’t seeing it. Maybe if she got to the top of the hill and climbed downwards about where it was…

But there was a patrol of ogres that generally passed by the area at the top of the hill. So far, Esmerellda had been lucky in that they hadn’t heard her grumbling and noisy climbing yet, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t fast enough to climb to the top, figure out where would be the best place to come down from, and get back down far enough that they wouldn’t see her in the time it took them to make their loop. She could always attack them and hope for the best, but they were significantly bigger than she was, and wielded large maces. The kind that would probably break bones if they hit any. Esmerellda wasn’t that confident in her melee abilities to want to take on more than one at a time, and she seriously doubted they’d attack one at a time.

Climbing was really the only option she had. It looked like there was a way to the khorium going at it from the other side, a faint path that hadn’t been visible from the ground. Upon reaching it, Esmerellda decided it was perhaps a better route than risking getting noticed by the ogres. In fact, there was only one little hop she had to make to reach the vein…

In no time she was happily mining way, trying to be as quiet as she could whenever she thought she heard the ogres approaching, picking up the chunks of khorium as they fell to the ground near her feet. Unfortunately for her, one of the ogres had heard the sound of her pickaxe on the metal, and came over to investigate without her noticing.

She did notice when the ogre suddenly roared above her, reached down and grabbed hold of her and pulled her up the short distance to the top of the hill. As it flung her off to the side, Esmerellda couldn’t help but be surprised at how close to the top of the hill the khorium actually was. She was also thankful that when she landed it was a bush that somewhat cushioned her landing, and not a tree.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lot of time to get her wits about her, as the two friends of the ogre that had tossed her were charging towards her. Esmerellda barely managed to move out of the way of the first one, and almost didn’t get her shield up in front of her before the second one ran into her. The force of the ogre crashing into her knocked the wind out of her and knocked her over backwards. Blinking up at the sky, Esmerellda decided the best course of action was not to stay and fight, but to run away, assuming she could make it back up onto her feet again. Not very likely, given the speed she was moving.

The third one had almost reached where she was lying prone when a strange fast-moving blur charged at it from the side. The third one roared in pain, and the other two turned to see what the problem was. As Esmerellda slowly sat up, it occurred to her that the fast, blurry thing looked a little like a Draenei wielding a large axe.

With the ogre’s attention away from her for the moment, she closed her eyes and mumbled a few words, making a few gestures to go along with them. After a few seconds, she felt immensely better as the healing power of the Light flowed through her. Standing up, she was surprised to see one of the ogres lying motionless on the ground, the Draenei busy dealing with the other two, seeming to easily dodge or parry their blows.

Or most of them anyway, though getting hit didn’t seem to slow the Draenei down as much as it would Esmerellda. Esmerellda cast two quick healing spells on the Draenei, and before long, the first ogre fell to the ground and the second started slowly backing up, deciding in its injured state that perhaps continuing the fight wasn’t worth it. By the time it actually turned around to start to run away, it was too late. The Draenei had rushed back into melee range and killed it before it made it three steps away.

“And you thought I was following you,” Esmerellda said. “Thanks, though. I really don’t think I could have gotten away from them.”

“You are welcome,” the Draenei replied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself. I’m Esmerellda.”

The Draenei paused for a second before answering. “My name is Lelissa.”

I wish I could help her. I wish I didn’t have to watch this. Malyss’ rune weapon is gone, but the damage is done. Lelissa’s left arm is just hanging limp; I don’t know if her shoulder is dislocated, or if her arm is broken. She can barely hold her mace aloft, let alone block with it. Malyss is taunting her now, slamming her mace into Lelissa’s again and again, screaming at her in that strange, dark language.

Lelissa is unarmed now. Malyss is swinging, a blazing fast attack that required her whole body and a spin… connecting with Lelissa’s already injured left arm. I see the armor crumple in, hear the bones crack as that crushing blow sends Lelissa flying to the side. Defiant as ever, Lelissa picks herself up off the floor, rising to her knees to look me in the eye as Malyss strides up behind her, hate painted so clearly on her face. Tears are streaming down my face as I look into Lelissa’s eyes for what I’m sure will be the last time.

She smiles at me, warm and caring, the smile of a Draenei… no, a woman who has been my friend and more for a long time now. She closes her eyes as Malyss brings her heavy mace down, the head striking squarely into Lelissa’s back between her shoulders, crushing the broken body to the ground.

Malyss kicks her sister’s body in contempt and leaves. No final words. Just leaving us to the cold, gray death that Northrend will give us, Lelissa bleeding out onto the cavern floor, and me, freezing to death just as Malyss promised I would.

But why am I so warm?

Friday Fiction – Memory and Fate, Part 2 – Pix and Esmerellda

Pixelated Executioner — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 16:38:00 +0000

In case you missed it, here’s Part 1

Strike, parry, dodge… narrow misses, glancing blows… the fight has gone on for less than a minute, but it seems as though forever and a day has passed.

Malyss is smiling. She knows something, something neither Lelissa or I know, something that will be what decides the entire fight. I want to call out to Lelissa, warn her, but I can’t… fractured jaw aside, what I’m seeing in front of me makes me speechless.

The look on Lelissa’s face is frightening; I’ve never seen her so angry, and I can plainly see that she is either unable to or not wanting to keep her rage in check. It’s so strange how something as simple as pure anger could be someone’s advantage like that, but unbridled as it is now, that same anger is her weakness. Her strikes are as controlled and precise as ever, but her rage is making her take some very big risks against an opponent that may be too much for her.

I feel as though I’m watching an elaborate dance, like those demonstrations that you see Trolls do in Shattrath or Dalaran occasionally, only this dance is far more deadly, and the dancers aren’t going to shake hands and smile when it’s all done. Lelissa and Malyss are moving with such grace and skill; it’s mesmerizing. Beautiful.

Terrifying.

I don’t know that I’ll be able to heal her this time.

Tanaris was much warmer than Esmerellda remembered. Even traveling within sight of the coast, where turtles sunbathed on the rocky beach and a warm breeze ruffled the leaves on the few stubborn trees that grew there didn’t help much. Off to her left, a seemingly endless sea of sand sprawled over the land, with giant bones of long dead creatures breaking up the monotony. Well, bones and the water towers that held what little precious usable water could be found in the desert. There were always Wastewander Bandits trying to steal the water, and the goblins of Gadgetzan were always hiring willing adventurers to thin their numbers.

When a small group of Wastewanderers broke away from the base of one of the water towers and headed toward the coast in front of her, Esmerellda was surprised. Wastewanderers rarely ventured out toward the coast unless they spotted a weakly guarded water caravan, or were in pursuit of victims trying to make their way to the ocean. Esmerellda was neither, and she certainly wasn’t carrying enough water to make herself a high priority. She halted mid-step to watch them for a moment, uncertain if they were a threat to her or if something else was afoot.

To her surprise, one of the bandits fell forward, his face hitting the sand. Esmerellda thought that they had tripped upon something hidden in the sand, until the one right behind him turned to the others following and swung a menacing-looking axe. It was then that Esmerellda started noticing details she hadn’t seen before, how most of the others wore either leather or cloth, but this other one wore what looked like plate armor, far too heavy for a life in the desert. This other one also had dark lavender skin, curved horns, and a tail compared to the Wastewanderers sun-darkened skin and obvious human appearance. As Esmerellda drew closer, she couldn’t help but think that somehow, this Draenei looked vaguely familiar…

The shadowbolt zipping past her face made Esmerellda realize that someone had decided she was either a target, or to encourage her to stay out of the fight. A quick glance in the direction the bolt had come revealed one of the shadow mages and his pet voidwalker. A single exorcism dealt with the voidwalker, but didn’t seem to concern the shadow mage in the slightest, as he continued to cast another spell. Even when Esmerellda got into melee range he didn’t stop with his spellcasting, perhaps thinking that he could get the spell cast before she could stop him. He couldn’t.

After dealing with the shadow mage, Esmerellda turned back towards the Draenei, who had so far held her own against the bandits and thieves that were trying to kill her. Out of the seven that had broke away from the tower, only three remained standing, though judging by how well the Draenei was wielding her axe, they wouldn’t be for much longer. Most of the Draenei’s attacks were hitting who she wanted them to, and on the few occasions she did miss, she didn’t lose her balance, but instead recovered quickly. Though, judging by the way she was overcorrecting her balance just a bit when she was hit, Esmerellda decided she probably was still getting used to wearing plate. No doubt the Draenei had spent her time honing her weapon skills since the last meeting.

One of the three bandits fell to the ground after the Draenei’s sharp axe cut deep into his side. The remaining two bandits hesitated for just a second, a quick glance passing between them, before they continued to attack. One kept trying to flank the Draenei, though she was doing her best to avoid letting that happen. A few quick jabs and stabs later, most of which were either parried or dodged, one of the bandits tripped and fell face first into the sand. The Draenei took advantage and let the heavy axehead drop onto the fallen bandit, leaving only one.

The last took a step back, just out of melee range. The two circled one another for a few moments before attacking almost simultaneously; the Draenei’s swing went wide, but the bandit’s strike hit the Draenei’s hand, drawing blood and loosening her grip on her weapon. A quick kick before she could recover failed to topple the Draenei, but she dropped her axe. A cunning grin came over the bandit’s face as he raised his weapon to strike, but Esmerellda stunned him before he had the chance. Quickly, the Draenei grabbed her axe and killed him.

The Draenei whirled around, fixing Esmerellda in her gaze.

“I did not need…”

“Oh, be quiet. Let me see your hand,” Esmerellda demanded.

The Draenei frowned at Esmerellda as soon as she recognized her. “Are you following me?”

Esmerellda glanced at the Draenei momentarily before grabbing the injured hand and inspecting it. “No, I just happened to be going this way.”

“Just happened to be? Are you here to kill these Wastewanderers for the pouches they carry?” the Draenei asked, wincing when Esmerellda poked and prodded her hand.

“Hmmm? Oh, no, just passing by. I’ve heard that the Bronze Dragonflight was investigating the Cavern of Time, and needed a few adventurers…” Esmerellda trailed off, focusing most of her attention on the hand.

A few moments later and the wound was healed, leaving not even a scar behind.

“There! All better!” Esmerellda beamed happily.

The Draenei spread her fingers wide and then clenched her fist. A few moments later, after opening and closing her hand a few times, she muttered her thanks.

“You’ve gotten better. A few more months and you’ll be better at wielding a weapon than I am,” Esmerellda commented.

“Then perhaps you will not feel this urge to ‘save’ me the next time you undoubtedly come across me,” the Draenei commented.

Esmerellda tilted her head to the side for a moment as she pondered the comment. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I must be on my way. May the Light bless you,” Esmerellda said as she started walking again.

“To you as well,” the Draenei responded.

Lelissa’s angry scream snaps me out of my reverie. Malyss is down on one knee, head down, as Lelissa leaps into the air, ready to deliver a brutal blow. As Lelissa’s heavy mace begins to descend, I see Malyss smile…

The sharp clang of steel tells me that Lelissa’s attack has been stopped, but… Malyss is down! How could she…? I look up and see that Lelissa’s shock is as great as my own; her mighty swing has been blocked by a mace identical to Malyss’ own that moves about by itself.

I know now what’s different.

Malyss now follows the Path of Blood.

Friday Fiction – Memory and Fate, Part 1 – Pix and Esmerellda

Pixelated Executioner — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 16:14:00 +0000

Pix’s Note: What follows is a semi-collaboration. My guildmate, Esmerellda, got a wild hair one day and started writing the backstory to how Lelissa and Es met and became friends. As I was writing Judge Not, I felt that the next “book” in the series needed to have these little flashbacks, especially because of the things Malyss alluded to in the last part. So, you’ll get to see Esmerellda’s work in the flashbacks, while I’m writing the rest of the perspective.

Enjoy!

I can’t feel my hands.

It isn’t because of the cold. Malyss built a fire to keep the cave warm while we waited, though I know now that she certainly didn’t do that because of any kindness. No, I can’t feel my hands because I’ve been hanging from the ceiling for the better part of the morning.

She said she’d let me die here. A week ago, I wouldn’t have believed it, but… her most recent treatment of me tells me otherwise. Nearly every inch of me is covered in pain… I’m certain that I’m so bruised, I probably look like a Night Elf without the pointy ears. I can barely see, since one eye is completely swollen shut, and the other feels as though it will burst from the pressure. I think my jaw is fractured, but not broken; it hurts to try to open my mouth, but it can be done. Since I’m hanging by my wrists from the ceiling, casting any spells will be impossible. I have no choice but to suffer with this pain.

Malyss is deadly serious, heartless, and as hateful as her name implies.

A scraping sound near the entrance to the cave makes me lift my head. I can’t see clearly enough to see her face, but I know that stance… Lelissa is finally here, though the real truth of her arrival is bittersweet. Malyss lured her here to die. I want to call out to her, tell her to run away, but even if my voice could reach her with more than a pained whimper, she wouldn’t listen to me anyway. She has always been headstrong and proud, ever since the first time I met her, so long ago.

Among the towering trees of Ashenvale, Esmerellda rode her charger down the winding path towards the fork in the road that would eventually lead her north towards Felwood. Her charger was happily trotting along, pleased to be off the boat that had brought them to the Elven lands. If it hadn’t been for a letter from an old friend of hers, Esmerellda would have happily stayed back in the Human lands, much to the pleasure of her charger.

She could see wolves slinking about through the trees, stalking stags that gracefully glided in and out of sight. High up in the trees birds chirped at one another and fluttered about. The sun shone through the canopy of trees in some spots, and it truly was a good day to be out traveling through the forest.

Farther down the road, Esmerellda picked up the faint sounds of battle. She had been warned by the Astrannar sentinels that there was a tribe of corrupt furbolgs nearby, so she slowed down her charger and headed towards where she thought the noise was coming from. Down a heavily forested slope from the road, Esmerellda could make out what looked to be a Draenei fighting four of the bear-like creatures. A furbolg pathfinder stood a few meters behind the Draenei, busily shooting arrows into the fray. Two nearby totems assaulted the Draenei with fireballs and, as Esmerellda watched, one of the furbolgs cast a spell that made another totem appear, different from the others. The other two were busily whacking away at the Draenei, one with a sword, one with a roughly carved staff.

The Draenei appeared to be fighting a losing battle. Esmerellda watched her swing her sword at an enemy, miss completely, and take a blow to the back from one of the furbolgs behind her. The Draenei fell to the ground, and Esmerellda decided maybe her assistance would be welcome. After hopping off her charger and telling it to stay put, Esmerellda carefully slid down the slope, trying to remain mostly unseen; an easy task since the furbolgs were all distracted by the Draenei.

A blast of holy energy hit the pathfinder, toppling it over backwards as it fell dead, the arrow it was loading into its bow fired straight up for a short distance before falling, sinking into the ground just inches from the creature’s furred feet. A solid hit stunned the closest furbolg to Esmerellda, and a quick few hand signs later, the Draenei looked considerably healthier than she had a few moments ago. The sudden, brief golden glow of the healing spell made the other two furbolgs blink at Esmerellda in surprise, but they didn’t turn away from the Draenei, determined to kill her before moving to their new threat.

The Draenei managed to scramble to her feet, and a few lucky swings of her sword later made one of the furbolgs fall to the ground as Esmerellda finished off the one she had stunned. The last furbolg took a look at the two of them, then turned and ran as the Draenei swatted at the annoying fire-spitting totems, splintering them into kindling. As the Draenei turned to chase after the fleeing furbolg, a glowing golden hammer whisked by her and hit it square in the back of the head before disappearing as the furbolg fell to the ground.

The Draenei sheathed her sword, and twirled around to glare at Esmerellda.

“I did not need your help.”

Esmerellda grinned. “Not from where I was standing.”

The Draenei continued to glower at Esmerellda, while Esmerellda in turn just studied her.

Finally, Esmerellda shrugged. “At least this way, you won the fight quicker, and came out of it healthier than if I had not showed up. Is that really such a bad thing?”

“I would have been fine. Assistance was not needed.”

“I hope then that next time no one is around in that case. I’ll leave you to doing whatever it was you were doing before you were attacked by these furbolgs.”

She was so upset with me that day. I left her there with her wounded pride as I continued my journey to Felwood, but even that look of anger on her face is not nearly as fearsome as the one I see now.

Lelissa and Malyss are circling… speaking in evenly measured tones, but I don’t know what they are saying. I know a few words of the Draenei language – Lelissa tries to teach me as much as she can – but I recognize few of them now.

Oh no… I don’t know what Malyss just said, but I can feel Lelissa’s rage. What she said… it wasn’t Draenei. It was something darker. Something hateful. Light, I don’t even need to see her to feel her anger right now.

I hear the ring of steel on steel.

The fight has only begun.