Chapter Text
Ruins: Winter Veil Special 2020 part 1
Wrack was going to be there. Wrack and Sebaas and Esava. Maybe even Neeks if the zeppelin didn't get delayed over the ocean.
Wrack had a boat now. She called it a ship, but what was a ship if not a big boat? But Wrack had one. She had a place to sleep and food and she didn't really need anything more than what she had. Sure, she still went out and explored... and she still fought a bunch of those humans... and she never really forgave the Sethrak (even if she kept reminding her that they weren't all like the Faithless), but she didn't really ~need~ any of that anymore.
And Sebaas... he was a special case. He never really got better. But at least he never got worse either. He didn't really have a home of his own. He didn't have food or water or anything like that. He had his armor and his weapons and his brothers and sisters in their flying pyramid thing. He didn't really need anything though either, so, she guessed he was alright in his own way.
And Esava. She could always be counted on to smile and laugh. She was always happy, always sweet. She was bigger than everyone else, both taller and wider, but she moved just as quick and was always the first to share whatever she had. Esava wasn't like her other friends though... she was a bear... thing. But a good bear thing as far as she was concerned. Always friendly and helpful and cooking something tasty. Honestly, it was probably a good thing that she didn't see Esava more often... she was fairly certain her belts wouldn't buckle after a few days of her cooking. Always fun, Esava, but just as likely to 'accidentally' explode a guest as she was to tend to their wounds. She was glad friends never seemed to suffer accidents.
Neeks, if he made it, would be just as happy to see them all. Out of all her friends, he was the only one who shared more than history with her. Neeks, despite his cheerful smile, has another warlock, and a dangerous one at that. Sure, he'd be happy to set up camp or cook or fix a broken axel, but unlike the others, he never even pretended to be anything more than a warlock. Where Wrack was a 'captain' and Sebaas was a 'knight', Esava was a 'priestess' and even she was just exploring, Neeks didn't even try to muffle his laughter as he lit things on fire or detonated body parts while draining the souls of his enemies.
But, they got along well enough, and honestly, it was nice to have someone else who understood how things worked.
And, of course, there would be her imps. Always had a little pack of the them hopping around. Sneaky, clever, helpful, little demons. She'd probably summon Abarin, her personal imp, or maybe Krakgrave, her voidwalker, if she felt a bit overwhelmed.
And, if HE was there, she'd probably be doing her best to stay near her friends.
It wasn't that she was afraid of the undead, far from it. She'd grown up in the desert, surrounded by corpses that refused to stay buried. Some of them talked. Some of them wandered. And some of them just didn't know any better. She'd gotten used to the undead over the years... even made a few friends among them. Had a few friends made into them as well, but that wasn't anyone's choice.
But HE wasn't like the skeletons or the floating armor. He was like a body that just got tired of being dead and decided to go for a walk.
His skin was pale and torn, sometimes stitched back closed... sometimes simply cut away out of convenience. His hair, what little remained, was long and pulled back, though the top of his head was bare. Bones were exposed at many of his joints and his fingers had long since been sharpened into dagger-like spikes. Most disconcerting though, were his eyes: empty sockets that held the flickering glow of necromantic magic.
That and his jaw was blatantly not the original... clearly stitched on and roughly maintained in a perpetual frown of disapproval.
She didn't like Nrubluos... even if he was a warlock... and even if Esava and Neeks vouched for the former human. And even-even though he kept the orcs from taking her stuff, she never felt really safe around him.
But, even if he did attend, she'd stay to see Wrack and Sebaas and Esava and Neeks. They, at least, were her friends.
Nodding to herself, Telloslyra adjusted her pack and checked the dozen or so softly glowing vials of plague hanging from her belt and shoulder guards. Between her imps, her spells, and those vials, she felt reasonably sure she wouldn't be stopped at the gate.
Then again, it was a very large gate.
Orgrimmar was, after all, the capital of the Horde. A fortress of stone and iron with braziers and bonfires kept burning year round, it stood as a reminder of all they had accomplished and all they had lost.
Even now, as a chill wind caused her to fluff her coat just a bit more, it bristled with spears and movement. Everywhere the eye lingered, orcs wandered, going about whatever it was that orcs did when they weren't soldiering or grunting or banging loud things loudly.
And where there weren't orcs, there were trolls. Easily the tallest among them, the lanky creatures wandered with an easy gate, often carrying on as if the world was just a bit too fast and they a bit too sleepy to care.
Then there were the taruen. She liked them as a whole. Huge. Calm. Kind. Violent when angered. She could understand them the best of the strange inhabitants of the place. She could relax a bit around the tauren... mostly because no one was foolish enough to anger a tauren and they made for wonderful napping spots.
The elves were just irritating in general. They either wanted to keep touching her or seemed disgusted by her existence. She snorted at the thought. She knew of fewer than sixteen elves that she liked.... and she rarely took the time to count more than four of anything. She'd made an exception for counting how many she liked out of an entire species.
And where there weren't the others, there were goblins. She felt bad for the goblins. They weren't very different from vulpera really... just... probably cold without enough fur to cover them up. She guessed that was why some of them had long hair... brightly colored or not... it was probably to keep warm. Then again, they did tend to explode fairly frequently so maybe they just didn't need as much fur? Whatever the case, they were clever and quick, which was probably two of three things to pointing out a vulpera in any place. A big fluffy tail was the third, and while they most certainly lacked that one, she was reasonably sure that the coils of wire, rope, and explosives they tended to drag around counted.
Sort of.
Tugging her little brass crown down a little tighter in the cold, she once more wished that this winter veil thing happened in the summer in Orgrimmar. When Neeks had sent his imp to invite her, he'd said to dress warmly, which didn't make sense at all. Then, almost as if he knew what she'd been thinking, the little imp had said "put on MORE clothes! Don't leave them behind. Dress for COLD!"
Who would want to ever be cold? Why would you put on more clothes if they were going to make you colder? It hadn't made sense then, and riding the ship across the ocean in three cloaks with four robes and balancing two more hats on her crown had been very uncomfortable.
Not to mention HOT.
But by the time she'd arrived at the strange little wooden island off the coast of a huge red land, it had all made sense.
Maybe Neeks' imp had been trying to be helpful. Maybe he just forgot to say she needed to bring the clothes. Maybe he was being a naughty imp and had tricked her.
If it were the last one, her little swarm of imps would teach him a lesson when they met again.
She nodded to herself as she continued walking up to the gates of Orgrimmar, trying her best to seem like she knew where she was going... like she had business there and that she belonged.
One of the guards, a large, greenish gray orc with little more than a belt, boots, and huge red shoulderpads, pointed at her before starting to walk over.
Silently she growled to herself. Just what she didn't want!
She'd gotten dressed up for the cold. She'd packed all her stuff away tightly. She'd eaten before getting off the boat. She'd even made sure not to summon her vulpine mount to 'prevent the rumors' like Neeks said some orcs liked to spread... whatever that meant. She'd done ALL the things! And some orc brute was still coming to bother her!
As the guard closed the distance, she drew to a stop and looked up with her fiercest snarl ready to be unleashed.
And then the guard knelt down and made a face that looked like he was in great pain while holding out a box about the size of her whole arm.
"I'd wager you're Telloslyra," he grunted before coughing lightly. "I was told to give this to you when you showed up dressed for Icecrown." Again he made that painful face where his lips curled a bit around the oversized canines jutting from his jaw. "Promised I'd get it to you. You are Telloslyra, right?"
Cautiously, and never taking her eyes off the hulking thing, she reached out before snatching the box, only for an imp to pop into existence and cackle.
The orc, probably shocked by the appearance, fell back on his rear while a few nearby orcs started to laugh at his reaction. Spluttering and embarrassed, the guard jolted back to his feet and spun around, shouting back at them as their teasing turned into a game of insults and lost honor.
But she did her best to simply scuttle by while they were distracted, Abarin dutifully hopping along behind her with the box.
Inside the wall was only a little better. There were armored orcs and trolls everywhere, and they calmly watched with the disinterested gaze of those trained to spot a spy. Troublemaker, she might be, but though she rarely came, she knew that Orgrimmar was no stranger to the vulpera. They'd made their invitation and some clever sandcoat had bought their entire race into the good graces of a nation of strangeness. The Horde was constantly at war, and while war was far from what she wanted, she happily had taken up arms when she'd found that they were at war with the humans.
After all, the humans had slaughtered vulpera slaves and escapees for the crime of offering the ones who helped them overthrow the Sethrak a place to stay.
How does saying "thank you" turn into a declaration of war? The Vulpera weren't even a nation! They were nomads after the Sethrak destroyed The Burrows!
The sound of chain shifting made her look up to see the hulking mass of a orc in black leather watching her closely, the shifting chain on a massive axe being the likely source of the sound.
With a moment, she realized she'd been thinking about the Sethrak again and forced her face back into an apologetic 'smile'... far from how she was feeling, but still better for the guard than what must have looked like 'massacre in wait.'
After a few tense seconds, the guard looked away, and with no further reason to delay, she darted into the city proper.
Once out of the gate, the city opened up before her. No longer the claustrophobic press of iron and stone, Orgrimmar kept most of its open air aesthetic, if one could ignore the flights of bat-winged, scorpion tailed, lions and the dozens of guards milling about.
But a city it was, and a city that (if not for the orcs and trolls) would probably have felt quite familiar.
Everywhere there were rocks and desert plants. Dry, sharp edged, and bristling with thorns and needles. Perfectly safe and nice to curl up under. There were beetles that could chew up armor and even a few birds that braved the smoke from the countless stone structures. A few towers, all capped with thick wood or stretched leather, dotted the area and everywhere, positively everywhere, the scent of meat, stale yeast, and smoke, drifted like some welcome friend.
Missing were the vargos, the shops and mobile villages of the Vulpera, but in their place were hovels and lasting businesses wrought in iron and rock.
The barked call of a nearby tavern drew her gaze, and she paced over, looking up to the orc woman who stood easily twice her height, but seeing none of the anger or distrust of the guards. When she stayed watching just a little too long, the orc smiled down at her and stepped a bit to the side, waving her in.
So she entered, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, smiled.
There, in the smoke heavy warmth of a small room centered around a large table with a fire popping and hissing in the middle, she caught the familiar face of a vulpera she could never miss.
"'Ay! You made it!" called out Wrack with a wave, her 'pirating hat' perched merrily between golden toned ears.
A smile split Wrack's face as she called to the barkeep for another bottle to add to the collection on the table before she turned back and yelped as another imp popped into the room.
"Never get used to that," she frowned momentarily at the imp who cackled merrily before scampering off into the dark, flickering light the only evidence of his presence. "Neeks and Sebaas went to fetch Nru, but they said not to worry. He's just an odd duck with too many sails and not enough rudder."
She was fairly certain that's not what they had actually said, but Wrack had been trying her best to get into her piratey talking.
For her own part, she tried her best to ignore the promise of the undead and slipped onto the bench seat across from Wrack. Behind her, she knew Abarin was likely propping the box up on a wall and making absolutely sure no one tried to take it. She'd made her expectations very clear when she'd first summoned the imp, and despite a bit of a rocky start, he'd been a perfect little imp ever since. He might have even been helping her to learn the orcish language that everyone in the Horde seemed so fond of using.
Heck, Wrack was talking in it and she would bet Wrack didn't even have to think about it.
Of course, that made the attack an absolute surprise as she suddenly found herself being yanked off the bench and the air crushed out of her lungs.
Eyes bulging and claws scrabbling against iron-ribbed gloves, she didn't even think before another demon bled into existence.
The bulging purple deathglare bobbed in place, its many eyes darting about before fixing upon her assailant. Nearby, the manic cackling of four imps almost seemed to synchronize as they popped out of their hiding places, only to freeze and point with looks of shock.
To her horror, not a single one hurled fire.
Her world was one giant, crushing, restraint and the jackahmmer thunder of her heart. With precious few seconds to spare, she opened her jaws wide and latched down on the gloved hand that was nearly as large as her whole torso.
It did absolutely nothing.
Until a moment later, she found herself spun around, teeth still set in the thick glove, and facing the widely grinning muzzle of a pandaren with a pair of flaming horns jutting from her forehead.
"Lyra! I missed you!" the chubby bear squealed, before clutching her tightly again and robbing her of what little breath she had managed in the second or so of being held out. Smothered in Esava's pudgy hug, she simply decided to wait out the hugging.
Esava never meant harm, and she was just as good as Wrack when it came to healing injuries, but her massive body did provide her with the means to smother her opposition. Or, at least that's what she thought... it was entirely possible that Esava was just a giant, short muzzled, incredibly fat, vulpera who loved everything that moved.
She wasn't quite clear on the particulars, but she was quick, clever, and she most definitely had a fluffy tail, so she probably counted. That Esava was actually taller than the orc woman at the door only meant that she had more room to put food.
And, precidtably, after a few more moments of bone-crushing, squishy hugging, she found herself plopped carefully back on her bench as the pandaren flopped down on a chair, causing the legs to creak. After a moment, she returned the glove, which Esava took with a laugh.
"I did not think you would make it! I'm so glad you did! Did you see the cookies? They're shaped like little people and they even have little hats made out of sugar! They're so good! I've had about six dozen so far and they just get better the more you have!" She grinned, her sharp teeth shining in the firelight. "I asked the highpriest if they were okay to have and he even said a blessing over them so I KNOW they're okay. I made hundreds of them! HUNDREDS! So we can have them all year long!"
She glanced at Esava's robes and estimated that the cookies might make it a week, if her understanding of hundreds was right.
Still, she smiled. Esava was a friend, and once her demons had realized what the mix up was, they had simply waited. No doubt, they'd be laughing out of earshot later. Still. Wrack and Esava, with the promise of Neeks and Sebaas, this winter veil seemed like an okay thing.
And then, there was something in her mouth... something hard and spicy and sweet.
But, it was in her mouth and she bit down with all the anger that such an intrusion deserved.
It took a moment to realize she'd just bitten the thing in half, and a moment of confusion led to her looking up at the amused laughter of her friends.
"I told you they were good!" chirped Esava as she tossed a handful of human shaped cookies in her mouth, no doubt adding another inch to her waist.
Blinking, she looked down to her occupied fingers and found them clutching the decapitated cookie. And, after a moment, she started to slowly chew what was in her mouth.
Spicy, and sweet, just like Esava said. Swallowing, she nodded and ate the body. It was good and she wouldn't let food go to waste.
This was apparently hilarious, as Esava started pounding the table while she laughed, the smile on her face almost as bright as her flaming horns.
When a nearby orc started laughing along and his tablemate started pounding the table as well, Esava only seemed to take it as a compliment, tossing another fistfull of humans into her mouth and washing them down with a steine that was half as tall as the vulpera.
Two other orcs apparently thought this was a challenge and waved over the barkeep who set two more mugs down with a heavy thud. Other patrons seemed to get the same idea and, within minutes, Esava was wandering around the few tables, guzzling down more drink than all the water they'd been given during their enslavement.
The orcs, apparently, did not understand how impressive this feat was, because a number of them ended up falling asleep, draped over chairs, and in one case, upside down, propped up on a table with a leg caught in the stairs to the upper loft.
Esava, smelling more of yeast than cookies at that point, had plopped back down with a grin, before promptly yelping as the seat finally surrendered under the combination of her weight and lack of care when sitting.
She'd just peeked over the table to check on her when an gloved paw grabbed her by her face and tugged her down.
Esava, was apparently, a sleep hugger, which got quite the round of laughs from Wrack and the remaining bar patrons.
For her own part, once she'd pried herself loose enough to breathe, she'd rolled her eyes and been about to climb back up to her bench when the sleeping Esava had grabbed her again and trapped her in a cushiony prison.
Which was the sight that met Sebaas and Neeks as they entered.
Despite her predicament, she couldn't help but to smile at the two, and after a moment, Neeks broke out into laughter of his own. Sebaas smiled and glanced around before tugging a ratty pillow from a badly abused seat and helped to trade vulpera for pillow in Esava's dreaming grasp.
A minutes labor and the four vulpera were seated again around the table.
She'd missed them. They knew and she didn't have to say it. Even so, she knew they knew whenever they glanced her way. She might not be good at speaking orc, but they were all quite fluent in the language of the sands... less than half of which was even verbal.
So she followed along as they caught up. Neeks was proud to present a little bauble of some kind, claiming to have taken it from a dragon of all things. Wrack, of course, called him a liar and the pair got into a comical argument until Sebaas had pulled a similar thing from a bag, affirming the source, much to Wrack's amazement.
Of course, after joining the Horde, they hadn't all been able to keep together. They'd had different skills and talents, different things they could offer to others, and they'd been scattered across the world. She'd even been to some places that didn't FEEL like the world, but that didn't make sense. Where would you be if not where you were? If there was a sky, if there was ground, there was the world... and if you knew they were there, you must be there too.
But despite all that, there were others who simply believed some very strange things.
That was alright, she guessed, it didn't hurt anyone but mapmakers and she rarely had the patience for maps.
In the end, the world was just a big enough place that if you went far enough, she was certain you could find just about anything.
But at that moment, the server wandered over, through the scattered, sleeping, orcs, and carefully stepped over Esava to place a platter of fried bread and a lump of meat on their table.
It was far from the largest lump of meat she'd ever seen, or eaten for that matter, but she supposed for an orc, it was probably a good amount.
Orcs, she'd found, were large and loud, but when it really came down to it, there just wasn't that much to them. They were big, they liked sounding bigger, and they loved their weapons and armor to be even bigger than that. They liked to feel bigger than they were, and that was shown in everything they did.
An orc didn't run into battle, an orc CHARGED into battle! They didn't tell stories, an orc BOASTED OF THEIR CONQUESTS! An orc didn't die from a wound, an orc FELL IN GLORIOUS COMBAT!
She really didn't see the difference, to be honest, but one thing that orcs did that she really hated was that they acted the same way with food.
Oh, the peons were fine, she supposed, they'd get by on a pot of soup and maybe some bread, but the warriors, the ones with the big armor and giant weapons? The warriors wanted to make a show of it.
They'd order more food than they could possibly eat. They'd wave it around while shouting about how great they were. They'd drop bits on the ground and even throw it if they were angry. They'd stuff their faces and then leave piles of perfectly good food sitting there while they ordered more because they could.
She'd seen entire pigs be sent back because they weren't 'meaty' enough. She'd even seen them leave the bones on the table.
She must have been thinking too long because the server had backed away slightly and no one had touched the food.
Sebaas took it upon himself to order for her. She didn't even mind. They'd known each other long enough that she trusted him to make a good order.
And, soon enough, more food was brought over and set before her friends as opposed to in the middle of the table.
The bread and meat hadn't lasted long, but the smaller plates weren't as much of a problem. She'd even been given a cookie on hers, along with a few of the little lizards she'd seen scurrying around outside. How thoughtful. Fresh caught!
So while she busied herself with keeping her food from running away, the others enjoyed their meals. The cooking was delicious. They hadn't even added fire to her lizards so they didn't even taste burnt.
Wrack worked through her meal with abandon, savoring every bite and washing each down with something from her cup. Having taken up piracy, Wrack had had access to more money and food than the rest of them, and she loved sharing. At least, she loved sharing with friends. She seriously doubted that the people and things she took her gold from would appreciate her generosity.
Neeks, in a similar vein, liked to experience life, in the most visceral sense. His work dealt more with clearing out vermin, from her understanding. He, also, had more money than he knew what to do with and she couldn't believe someone would actually pay to get rid of pests. Why not just save them for later? It didn't make sense, but the Horde seemed to have so much food that they actually made themselves DISLIKE snacks. They paid people to kill and discard their freshest foods. Strange things indeed. As a result, she supposed, Neeks had taken a bit more towards his employers and ordered meat and bread and soup and a drink which he kept having refilled. If she didn't know how much magic could take out of him, she'd probably be upset with how wasteful it would seem, but, quite like herself, she knew he would finish it all.
Sebaas, of course, ate very little. His plate held only a small piece of bread and some stone-dried salted meat from some unknown creature. He was meticulous and didn't waste a thing. He even brought his own drink. For all its meager portions, she knew from experience that Sebaas' meals were quite rich... if one could stand the taste. Oily and salty, with harsh tones of bitterness from the packing... but very long lasting and with no worries of going bad.
And Esava, who would eventually wake up and could probably eat more than a tauren.
When the table darkened, she'd looked up and reacted with haste.
The undead positively loomed, before she'd stabbed him with a bone from her plate and leapt back. Her imps instantly drawing up into formation as Abarin hopped to her side.
Of course Wrack had laughed. Neeks had hopped out of the potential crossfire, and Sebaas had pushed away from the table before stepping between them with a half smirk. "We told you he'd be here."
And, just like that, she'd put the face with a name and felt rather foolish.
But vulpera are clever and quick and warlocks even more so, so she didn't say anything as she got back in her seat and ate a lizard.
Nrubluos, for his own part, impassively pulled the sharp bone from his thigh, turned it in his fingers as he looked it over, and then carefully placed it back on her plate. "No harm done. A pleasure to see you all, as always."
With a slight creak, Nrubluos sat down, his face a slight grimace, even if his words held no anger. "I see we're all having a festive night? Lovely." The corner of his lips turned just a bit up. "I had been thinking I should bring snacks, but I'm fairly certain only one or two might find them enjoyable."
Sebaas, seeing that there was likely no more bloodshed in the immediate future, sat back down, the smirk never leaving his face.
Wrack, of course, couldn't pass up the moment to make the whole thing that much louder. "Sure sure. Fingerfoods or something, right?"
Nrubluos chuckled and shrugged. "I had considered simply making burgers, though not even the goblins want to grill them up." He smirked slightly, "Shame. At least the imps do a fair job at the matter."
She frowned for a moment. Why would goblins not want to grill a sandwich? Why would you grill a sandwich anyway? She knew she was missing something, but nothing seemed wrong on its own. With a squint, she tried to figure out why Wrack was still laughing and Sebaas just shaking his head.
Neeks just leaned over and whispered "He's joking about using gnomes for meat, and the goblins won't serve food that might call for help. Professional courtesy and all."
Ah. He was joking about eating people again. She scowled before turning back to her friends and trying to ignore the corpse that was also a warlock and was also also her sometimes ally.
Reaching across the table for an empty plate, Nrubluos said, "I do hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of inviting a few friends for our little get together. It was rather last minute, you see, but I believe you'll find their company enriching."
She felt her hackles rise just a bit, but Wrack and Sebaas seemed to take it in stride. Neeks waved a paw as he flagged the server down again.
He was bringing MORE strangers? More strangers to THEIR gathering! To THEIR winter veil?
And upon looking up, she found her friends all looking at her with a bit of concern.
She stopped growling.
"I take it that this is disagreeable," he shrugged, "Pity. I was certain you would have enjoyed the hunt with a few more dedicated individuals."
Wrack's ears perked as she glanced back over again. "Hunt? I thought we were looting the tree and maybe skimming some from the goblins."
Sebaas shrugged. "Fine by me. The more people, the less chance of anyone getting hurt."
Neeks laughed a bit as he took a pitcher from the server and lightly tossed it to Nrublous. "That's the spirit. So, hunt eh? Greench? Yeti? Magical flying double unicorn?"
Nrubluos carefully uncapped the pitcher before pouring a bitter smelling fluid into his mug. "I was rather thinking of a dwarf who likes to impersonate Greatfather Winter." He looked up slowly, taking the moment to fix her with the lambent glow of his gaze. "You know... putting the jolly fat man in his place for crushing the dreams of all those adorable little tykes at the orphanage? Can't have him going around letting them think he's the real thing when we have our own sitting outside the Grommash Hold."
Something about that sounded wrong to her. Fake Greatfather? No... she knew the Greatfather came to Orgrimmar. Dwarf Greatfather? No... The Greatfather was an orc. She knew that from Wrack and Neeks. Orphanage tykes? She didn't know what those were, but orphans were kits without parents and no one got away with hurting them. The Sethrak make orphans. The Sethrak ate orphans. She growled and didn't even try to stop it as she glanced at Sebaas and Wrack.
Neeks, though, was the one who voiced it. "I'm just going to say that no one should ever do that to orphans. That's cruel, you know." He chuckled and tossed a handful of coins at the barkeep, who ducked and snorted before picking them up. "So I guess we're all in."
"Aye!" shouted Wrack, while Sebaas just waved his agreement with a smile.
Surprisingly, Nrubluos suddenly disappeared, but the muffled curses from under the table explained it all as Esava continued to be huggy in her sleep.
-~oOo~-