A Broken Dream {Part I}

Post by Mojoworkn

Too much happened in the two years that followed my mother’s death. I was stricken with grief for countless days on end, though I vowed to conceal my emotions while Eidan was around. He was the one I was worried about the most.

Ever since I knelt next to him in an embrace beside our mother’s deathbed, he had been silent. I tried to procure information about our father out of him, along with what he was feeling at the time, but he would only walk away quietly. I wouldn’t see him for a few hours after that.

My heart ached at the sight of my brother’s distress, but there was very little I could do to help him. I felt helpless knowing all that I could do is explain who we are, and how we came to be. As I explained it to him, his eyes would glaze over until my mouth stopped flapping. Eidan would then run off to play with a wooden toy train that someone a few tents down had carved for him.

The tents . . . by the Light how I hate the tents.

~

I remember that dawn filled the skies above Shattrath, with its rosy fingertips reaching for the heavens far above. Flowers opened their buds to fill their bodies with the rejuvenating light energy. A purple and pink hue dominated both ground and above, the color scheme lighting up the forests of Terokkar. An eery silence filled the land, as no birds sang their sad songs.

The city itself was already bustling with activity. Shipments from the Lower City were being hauled to the Upper Terrace to fuel what had become a staging ground for the military. The shipments usually consisted of food for the famished soldiers that kept guard around the clock. And even then, more soldiers of the Light were being sent away to a distant battlefield to combat the marauding fel orcs.

Shattrath had turned in to a different place than my early childhood had remembered it. People lived in constant fear. They jumped at small noises, and concealed weapons under their cloaks. Petty crimes such as stealing bread were rampant amongst the denizens of the Lower City. The crimes were not committed out of greed, but rather out of necessity, and the will to survive.

In even lesser conditions, but crimes less abundant, the Slums of Shattrath housed us, the fel deformed race known as the Krokul, though more popularly called the Broken. Living in torn and dirty tents, we barely manage to survive on what we had. In desperation, the elder of our group, Mashimi, proposed to form an alliance with the members of the Slums. He hoped it would allow the scarce food to be distributed “equally” amongst each of the members. The grudging alliance was formed, due to the threats Mashimi sent to us.

Mashimi didn’t last long as our illegitimate elder of the Slum. Located in a secluded corner of the Slums, Eidan and I awoke with the coming of dawn from our separate nightmares. With our eyes still bleary from tears that had fallen while we were asleep, we crawled out of our dirtied sleeping bags. I helped him off of the cold floor of the terrace, and wiped away the tears that only distorted his ugly face even further. We winced in pain as the loud chimes of the morning bell rang in the distance. Our life was controlled by that bell; it was now time to get our measly serving of bread.

I popped my head outside of the ragged tent Eidan and I called home. I saw others poke their heads out as well, watching and waiting for the elder to come trotting down the dirty, tent filled street. At the end of the path, a large figure emerged from the only clean tent in the Slums. Mashimi, with his fat belly and balding head, came lumbering down the road, with two equally large Krokul guards flanking his chubby sides.

Mashimi paused at each and every one of the tents, to give the residents a deathly stare. He would then snort through his crooked nose and continue down the road. When he got to our tent though, he just smirked at the sight of Eidan cowering behind my legs, and without even missing a step, lumbered over to the gate that separated the Slums from the Lower City.

The rest of the Krokul came pouring out of the tents to stand in a mob around the gate. I pushed myself to the front of the mob, Eidan held firmly in my grasp. Krokul of all shapes and sizes clawed at the metal gate that stood before them. Shouts of men and women alike filled the air around us, screaming for what little food was left in Shattrath. The draenei guards outside, holding long metal rods in their hands, yelled obscenities through the rungs of the gate.

“Get back you fel demon scum. The Light beckons you no longer!”

“The Light has forgotten you, rats. Not even Velen wants to save you and your pitiful Broken bodies.”

They prodded us with their rods, but we didn’t care. I hid Eidan behind me, as I clawed for the bread that the draenei soldiers held in their hands.

“Come get it you dogs!”

“Show a little courtesy beggars, or did the fel displace proper methods of society too?”

Shrapnel that littered the streets of the Slums, was thrown through, and over the metal gate. It failed to strike any of the pure race on the other side, only angering the draenei to a new extreme.

“MASHIMI,” yelled a dark toned voice from across the gate. An eery silence washed over the crowd. Eidan stood rigid behind me. I held his hand tightly.

“Yes?” came a shaky voice to my right. Mashimi’s eyes widened with fear, as Yorn, the head of the guard, stepped out from his line of soldiers. His white skin glistened beautifully in the sunlight, but his face seemed skewed and wrinkly. His eyes kept a steady gaze on Mashimi.

“Please teach your fel scum how to behave properly towards the draenei,” he said in a sinister voice.

“Sir?”

“You heard me,” Yorn gazed around at the cowering Krokul, “teach one of them.” The way he said that still haunts me to this day. Mashimi looked around, his belly fat quivering in an unpleasant manner. His eyes drifted downwards, as it gazed upon the cowering figure of my brother.

“You,” Mashimi pointed his fat, stubby finger at Eidan, “come here.” I looked at my brother in horror, who clung even tighter to my legs that shook along with his. I screamed in an obscene language I had learned at Karabor. Mashimi’s eyes widened, as one of his guards came forward and snatched me from Eidan’s grasp.

Eidan’s screams echoed throughout Shattrath as Mashimi’s guard pulled me towards the chubby man. “How dare you defy me brat,” Mashimi yelled, slapping me across the face. I fell to the ground, pain surging through my head. He kicked me not once, not twice, but fifty times. My whole body became numb to the world; blood poured out of the gashes that etched across my skin. My wispy blond hair became a wet, matted mess.

I lost my vision, as my eyes closed for the remainder of the beating. When Mashimi was done venting his rage on me, I did not even feel relief wash over my body. I felt broken, and helpless as my body lay limp on the ground, for the entire mass of the Slums, and draenei guards to see.

“So not even you can show a little courtesy Mashimi?” came the low drone of Yorn. He took two steps backwards, “I would like to talk to Mashimi alone.” The gates opened with the creaking and groaning of metal. The guards held their metal rods up high, as a draenei dragged a crying Mashimi out of the now open gate.

“No, don’t take me! PLEASE. I beg you!” The gate closed as Mashimi disappeared amongst the draenei guards.

We never saw him again.

Yorn, who wore a crooked smile, dispersed his draenei guard, and walked off in to the streets of the Lower City. Everything seemed to return to normal, except that I still lay, bloody and torn, on the cold ground. I remember being dragged back to my tent by some friendly Krokul, Eidan by my side the whole time.

When we got back, it seemed like months before I had proper feeling in my head and joints. I was nursed back to health by my ever faithful brother Eidan, who told me stories everyday about how the Slums were faring, which was never good. He was never far from my call when I needed assistance. He even managed to barter some bread off of the neighbors, in exchange for his sleeping bag.

It only took me two weeks to recover back to full health, and even then I was a little wobbly on my feet. The disorder in the Shattrath Slums continued, along with the bell ringing every dawn and dusk.

Interesting enough, no elder ever took Mashimi’s place.

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Post by Mojoworkn

Thanks for the praise all :)

Wow, that was pretty intense. I liked it Mojo, now you can never leave us, lest we need find you. :P
Who said I was leaving? =P

What You Should Know (I mean...Author's Notes):

Definitely a original story that is very "out there" in it's plot and historical events. Though it does follow events that have been said in lore. At least in this story, the war between the fel orcs and draenei lasts for eight years. Right now we are in the sixth year, and most everything has been destroyed except for Shattrath.
The draenei definitely have a prejudice towards their Broken cousins, based off of mostly religious purposes.
The layout of Shattrath is a tad different than ingame. The Aldor and Scryer terraces do not exist yet, only the Terrace of Light (called Upper Terrace in the story), Lower City, and Slums (a subsection of the Lower City) exist.
Last point. It may seem odd that Sutha describes her experience with such simplicity, but it does say something about her character, and what may happen in the future.

Eidan will be the main focus in the next chapter.

Post by Patty

I can't wait for more. Again, your first person narrative is fantastic. :)

A Broken Dream {Part I}

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