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Tranquil by desomnis on Flickr.

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“Well, you’re confident. At least you’ve got that going for you.” Urch:

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He was happy, a smile that stretched from ear to ear covering his mouth, teeth showing and red eye bright as he looked upon them. She was beautiful, her blonde hair falling perfectly around her face, blue eyes shining as she looked at him from across the room. With their daughter in her arms, skye smiled happily, squealing the only way a baby does as she reached out for her father. And despite his sweat, and the axe in his hand, he met them, embracing the both of them, the two be loved most, and holding them tight to him. He leans down, kissing Rosie's head, and them moving down to kiss her lips. “I'm gunna love you until th’day I die..” he mumbled quietly, his eye shutting as he held them both close.

Night had fallen down on their island home, the trees shaking in the night, and the moon high above it, always high. He sat by the window, half naked and starting up, his mind wandering far and far, but never far away. He puts his hands over his face, looming down and groaning, a tear welling up in his eye before he looks back up to the silver sphere. “Th’fuck’d I evah fo t’deserve this…” he says with a sigh. Then be felt her arms around him. He looked back, his face level with Rosie's as he looked at her as if she were a goddess, smiling wide as he leans to kiss her. “I love you... “ He says as he pressed his forehead to hers. And that's when the shards of orange came.

The baby’s cry pierced the night, Urch's heart fading as he wasted no time running towards the door. Alas, covered in flames, but he didn't care, hitting his shoulder against it as if his entire life was on the line, like a wolf biting it's paw off to escape a trap. Finally, it budged, success! He runs into the room, his eyes scanning it faster than he could ever hope to do before his eyes made purchase with her. He runs forwards, the foot getting longer, everything stretching as he ran. His whole body was pierced with the daggers of limitation, but he broke through them, still carrying onwards. He stopped at the dresser, panting as he looked down. His heart sinking in his chest as he dropped to his knees, looking down at the basket in which was her bed, and breaking into a sobbing mess of tears and snot. The was only crimson where she lied, and the tears mixed with it. He heaved, holding her bloodied body in his hands as he cradled her, his whole body trembling. He looks up into the air, the moon overhead as he screams, but the sound was muffled. His maw elongated, and he grew two sizes, screaming at the top of his lungs, as if he'd been stabbed in the back and the blade was twisted. As his world crumbled around him, the flames flying high, a voice echoed through the air. “You don't…” it's said.

He screamed as he awoke, panting and sweating as he looked around the room. He slaps his face, hard, making sure he was awake before he scanned the room once more. Verona woke lazily, beside him, on the complete other side of the bed and just looking towards him. “Nigh’mare?” she asked lazily, scooting towards him a bit in the small room they shared. He nods, unable to speak before he burst into tears, Verona sighing as she moved to hold him and cradle him, just like how she did so many years ago. “I’s alrigh’... shh…. She's fine, they're both fine…” Once again, he fell asleep in her arms, she being the third able to calm him down. She looked him over, sighing as she pats his head a few times. “Hehe, twenty two an’ still cuddlin’ wi’ ‘is sistah… hehe… wimp..” she says with a smile, uncovering herself and heading towards her armor. A faint smile graced her face as she grabs her rifle. “Love ya, bro..” she says before walking out

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♥

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The Battle of Greywatch

The giant wolf sat under the fallen tree, the pale bark almost shining within the golden fields of the cold region. The hairs on his head poked out of it as the wood withered away with small plumes of green smoke. He huffs and he puffs, a claw going into his shoulder in a feeble attempt to take out the toxic missile, knowing full well what would happen if he didn’t, his squad commander showed ample example of it. The blood pours like wine from a bottle from the wound, and if his skin were to show, it would be as white as the tree. His claws were caked with blood from earlier, and his armor equally shown with the black blood of the undead. BOOM, as chunks of dirt soared through the air, and as bits of tree splintered around him. Perhaps now was a good time to duck down a bit lower. “Sieg für SYLVANAS!” they yelled, as the rough footsteps of their metal coated skeletons marched ever onwards. His eyes shut, perhaps due to fainting, but alas, they open moments after. His red eye shoots up, and his lips curl into a grin as he holds his doom in his oversized hand, making quick work to cover up the geizer of crimson that had become of his fur covered shoulder.

They laid all around him, some behind rocks and trees, the others in makeshift barriers, and few cowards laid under their shields, hoping to come across as dead to avoid the banshee queen’s army of undeath. The new problem arose as they continued in their hallowed march, the fact he had only delayed death by a few moments caused him to weep as a man would, one single tear, but that was enough for him, he was never one for crying. Much of the artillery that was brought lay wasted and in heaps across the battlefield, those that were intact now belonged to the plague bearers and ghouls. Few remained, but alas, they were those in which required a entire team to operate, and each one being much too big for any ordinary wolf to carry. Urchaid was no ordinary wolf. With a new found fire to see she whom he held most dear, the one he wasn’t ever willing to risk the death of, one who he would never bargain with, he broke into a sprint. Running, faster than he ever had before, the giant’s muscles began to tire after even a few feet. And through his pain and anguish, he continued in his stride, ignoring the sheer pain of his own doing. As the giant red streak zipped across the field, dodging green missiles of both arrow and bullet proportion, other wolves watched in awe. Those who sat under shields had new found courage as the giant lifted the cannon, it being heavier than he, and causing him more anguish than his sprint ever could have caused. The held up their banners as the howls were heard. The wooden barriers were lifted, and more wolves ran to his aid. The shield bearers stood up and marched on, bringing down undeath with every step forwards, some falling, but always being replaced as if they had been in phalanx the entire time. “LOAD I’!” he yelled, his face turning red under his fur as more wolves piled around him, some holding it up with him, the others loading it and holding giant metal spheres of their own. BOOM, and the iron ball shot, over the heads of the phalanx and through forsaken lines.

With great haste and passion filled with rage and need, the Gilnean worgen stood behind him as the army of the undead was answered with a boom of their own. Forwards they pushed on, the phalanx of wolves taking step after step, slicing the undead of lordaeron in two with every slash and stab, black blood coating their fur and their feet. Another answer came for the undead, a fatal blow to the body of their force, causing only the animal like ghouls to retreat. His breath was heavy, and the cannon even heavier, and with each and every shot, it’s toll was took on his stamina. But still he marched forwards, hair matted to his head, some of the others around him laid on the field, drowning in pools of their own crimson blood. BOOM! Another line broken, a chunk missing from the forsaken line. Seventeen men stood there, most loading the gun, sliding iron balls to shoot at the undead sun.

He stood there, standing forwards, unlike most of the forsaken he stood upright, as if he were still human, but the black pus that ran down his mouth made sure to do away with those ideas. His armor was thick, and the years had clearly taken it’s toll on it. Rust coated the shoulders, but the rest was covered in dark red blood, and his axe was freezing, literally freezing. The ghouls and geists and undead alike moved to the side of the juggernaut, all feared him, and the Gilnean phalanx shivered at just the sight of the creature. A thud came down hard as Urch dropped the cannon, pulling his axe from his back as he stands in front of the Gilnean line. Stormheim was silent, all that could be heard was the wind blowing through the trees as the two stood across from eachother, golden grass waving underneath their feet.

Their blades locked, Urch’s axe pushing back on the forsaken’s as they fought in the field. The men on all sides, living and undead held their breaths, or what little they could. The fight seemed equally matched, each blow that was swung, each attack that was dodged, all met blade to blade, chipping at the forsaken’s blade. “Sterben im Namen von Sylvanas!” the heavy armored thing yelled, black goo spurting out with every word he spoke. Some such goo hit Urch’s armor, the worgen roaring as he pushes back against the forsaken. All of his might, all of his strength that was left, all went into a single thrust, and thrust back was the forsaken. “For Greymane!” he yelled, raising his axe high over the head of the stumbling undead, making purchase in the dreadguard’s rotted flesh. “For Gilneas!” he roars, rushes forwards and putting his shoulder into it’s gut, a geyser of black goo coming from it’s maw, the thick substance landing all on his back as he shoves forwards once more, pushing the forsaken back farther. “FOR SKYE!” he roars with a foot clamped down and holding hard as rock, the blade shifting in his tired muscles as it slashes across  and through the air. With one fell slice, the forsaken’s head came aloft, flying through the sky into the undead maw. The giant looked behind himself, the battlefield went quiet. He raised his axe to the air, roaring loud as ever, and the Gilnean pack joined him! With one destructive force, the phalanx leading the charge, they destroyed every last one of the Forsaken bars.

The battle was done, many bodies lay turned over. The golden ground was amuck with red and black goo. Among those standing was Urchaid, the hero of the day. He stood there wobbling, swaying side to side.Those whom he had led held him up, even though he still fell down a lot. The entirety of the army went back to greywatch. They ate and they sang, but the giant only sat, looking under the moon as liquor was poured. His hand ran over his blade as he sat down “I’m comin’ ‘ome Skye…” he whispered “Daddy’s comin’ ‘ome..” he said alone.

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A Living Nightmare

Urch started panting, laying down in a rather small room in Gilneas, his eyes scanning around quickly before he realized where he was."No..."He says, his breath quivering as he scrambles to his feet. He pulls his axe off his back, his pupil going small as he looks around quickly, eyeing every shadow of every corner, every wall and every turn. He swings his axe, breaking clean through a shitty looking couch with a pillow on it, dust flying off of it and filling the room as he does so."N-no... G-... Ge' ou'... GE' TH'FUCK OU'!"He screams, swinging his axe again, his breath coming hard as he breaks everything in sight, the walls, the floor, tables and chairs, everything.

He roars, his breath coming heavier and heavier as he drops his axe, falling to the ground, bringing his knees to his chest as he laid on the floor, covering his head as he shivered, not out of cold, but fear. He sniffles, hitting his head hard  with a turned fist, mumbling "no no no no..." over and over again before he looks up, laying sprawled out on the ground. He looks to the ceiling and roars, loud as possible. Urch finishes his roar, and quickly stands up, his head moving from side to side rapidly, scanning the room in a massive panic as the shadows seemed to move around him. He grabs his axe, holding it ready as he turns around the room. He quickly moves, swinging behind him, but alas, he only hit the couch from before! He turns again, with even more speed than before, slashing at the air with a wicked woosh. "Ge' ou'! Show y'self coward!" he screams into the darkness, his whole body trembling as he lets loose a flurry of swings to the air, attacking and hitting anything he thinks moves, or anything that could have the potential to do so, ruining the ruined room further. "Ge' ou'..." he says, his voice cracking as a tear began to well up in his eye.

And still the shadows moved, inching closer to him with every second, and he being powerless to stop it. Urch looks across the room, his eye wide as he burst into a sprint, dropping his axe as he ran. The room seemed to get longer as he ran, panting hard as his muscles screamed for him to stop, but still he kept onwards. He leaps forwards, grabbing fur fashioned into a parka in his hand as he'd slide across the floor. He holds it over his face, smiling wide and yelling "YES!" as he holds it close, still shaking, and still scared out of his mind, but the parka gave him new-found hope. He stands, looking to the shadows as he'd run for his axe, holding the parka in one hand as he held his axe in another. And then, again, he starts swinging, doing anything he possibly could to protect the object and keep the shadows away from him.

"Stay back, stay th'fuck back!" he says as his legs tremble, a tear rolling down his cheek as he snarled at the darkness. Urch stood there, his axe pointed to the darkness as he looked at the parka, smiling weakly as tears dripped onto it. And then, it came... It slithered from the shadows, grabbing Urch's leg and pulling him back towards the darkness, forcing him to drop his axe and the parka. He looks at the shadow tendril, swiping at it with his claws, but alas, no avail. The shadows grab him, picking him up and positioning him to look at the center of the room, and despite his strength and attempts, his oh so desperate attempts, he could not free himself.

Despite his roars, his fear and everything! He couldn't free himself. Then, from where he was forced to look, she came out. Looking as beautiful as ever, and in the spitting image of his sister, she walked towards him... Her face, painted it's usual black and blue, and her dirty shirt ripped and torn, but it was her. And then he came too. He, his fat belly, and the alcohol on his breath, seemingly no resemblance from him and Urch, but he came forwards. The man looks down at Urch, smirking before he turned to her, raising his hand and hitting her, hard. She slammed to the ground, looking right at Urch as blood splattered through her lips, begging him for the help he knew he couldn't give her. And then, the kick. Right to her abdomen, he stepped, harder and harder, not stopping despite her pain and despite her agony, and he simply laughed as he did so. He looks back at Urch, smirking before he leaned down, tearing her shirt completely off. She started to cry, begging Urch for help, and despite his roars, his feeble attempts to free himself from his shadowy bonds, he couldn't.... He couldn't help her. He started to sob, desperately shaking himself, trying to free himself as he roared through the tears "LE' 'ER GO Y'SON O' A BITCH!" he roars, crying desperately as he still tried to reach her. "Le' 'er go..."

Urch growls, panting hard as he looks forwards, growling and snarling as he looked to his father and mother. "I sai'..." he stands slowly, despite the heavy toll the shadows were taking on him, and despite the pain he felt, he continued onwards. He roars, loud, breaking free from his shadowy chain as he bust into a sprint. He tackles his father to the floor, putting his knees on either side of the man before he put fist after fist into his face, snarling and panting as he does so, blood spitting up into his face, staining his fur and damaging his armor, but still he went.

He pants, sitting on the bloodied body as his mother would walk over to him... She was clean, her face clear, and her clothes un-ripped as he looked up at her. He smiles at her, a tear rolling down his cheek "I love you..." he says as she leans down, kissing his forehead as he shuts his eye. When he opens it again, there was a pair of shitty brown shoes under him... No body, no blood, just shoes... He smiles, laughing lightly as he reaches down and picks them up, cradling them to his chest as he grabbed the parka and the axe that were on the ground. He smiles, putting the shoes in the parka as he stood, his axe still at the ready as he stood in the house, but now... He was unfearing.

He scanned the room again, looking at a small table that remained undamaged, and in the center of it was a photograph. The tint on it was brown, looking as if it were from the 1800's as he reaches down and grabs it. He morphs into his human form, dropping his axe as he brought his hand to his mouth, looking down at it as he starts to cry... It was a picture of a man three feet taller than a woman... Both in wedding clothes, a red-haired woman standing beside him, and the woman in the wedding gown's belly was... Large. He slides his axe onto his back and picks up the picture, still crying after he folded it and slid it into his glove, smiling weakly as he started towards the door of the house that was now open. A blinding light shot out of it, and he turned around for one last look. He stands in the doorway, squinting due to how bright it was... And then, he steps into the light, into the unknown

RP snippet from an old event I kept saved, brings back good memories.

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Begining

It was raining.

It always rains,

The sun is but a memory,

There is only shade.

Men and women alike scream,

Of beasts not quite beasts,

Men not quite men.

The ran on the wolves,

Invaded the pens.

She fell,

But didn't fall far,

She hung from the rafters.

The boy knew she was weak,

But he didn't think it this weak.

His red eyes watched,

Streaming with tears,

He two had gotten the lash,

been painted black and blue,

It's not so rare,

He wishes he hung too.

The knocks on the door,

The man still drunk,

You'd think at a time like this,

He'd not be such a bum.

He got anxious,

"Let me in!" he demanded.

The boy looked at his arm,

And the body on the rafter,

He wondered just how long he could've gone for.

A surprise attack sure,

The boy was a beast of a man.

But it had left its print.

The door creaked open,

Not all that fast.

The man ran past both bodies,

Even the one like a mast.

He grabbed his sword,

His shield too,

The drunk soldier,

A coward,

Through and through.

The door creaked shut,

The lock was heard.

The man's eye's widened,

As the thunder was heard.

A thing there,

Man, but not quite man,

Beast, but not quite beast.

It stood there looking down,

At it's soon to be feast.

The man didn't scream,

Nor call out for help.

All that was heard was a quick yelp.

Within minutes he was drained,

By the boy painted black and blue.

A grin on his face,

He enjoyed it,

Through and Through.