That Damn Role Player

I don’t remember anything for many hours after learning that my home, my sister, everything I loved, was destroyed. I could not think nor feel. The wounded were prepared for travel and sent on their way. Some could not be moved, so many of us chose to remain behind to care for them and to defend the Temple. Prophet Velen left with the wounded. There could be no other choice. If none of the rest of us survived, he must.

I chose to stay. My patients needed me, the Temple needed me, and there was nothing waiting for me in Shattrath. The only family I had on this world was Yaaniesa and she was now gone. I felt empty inside. All I could cling to was the power of the Light. I held to me the image of the Temple as I first saw it. This was our most sacred temple and I would stay and fight the orcs for it. It was all I had.

Nauloera sat quietly staring out the window of the main infirmary. Darkness had settled around the Temple of Karabor. The wounded slept fitfully and she suspected they could sense the building tension in the air. Much like the feeling one got as a mighty thunderstorm began rolling over the plains, there was a thickness, a dangerous taint in the air that was nearly tangible. The cool breeze wafting through the window did not bring the comfort it usually carried. Instead it whispered of danger unseen. It sent shivers down the spine and caused fear bumps to rise on the skin.

“Nauloera,” the word was whispered, barely audible, yet she jumped as if it had been shouted in her ear. “I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you.”

Nauloera forced a slight smile and moved over on the stone bench for Shaani, one of the senior healers who had remained. “It is nothing you did wrong.”

Shaani nodded, unable to dredge up even an attempt at a smile and sat gently next to her. She turned her gaze out the window and Nauloera wondered if she saw the silver moonlight shining down upon the grassy plains that sprawled before the Temple, or if she saw on the visions of the dead they had already sent to Auchindoun and the images of those yet to come. “There is a storm on the horizon.”

Nauloera glanced at Shaani a moment and noticed the shiver spreading up her arms and knew the senior healer was not talking about a natural storm. “I feel it too,” she whispered and turned to gaze into the darkness surrounding the cliffs of the Temple.

“The scouts will give the alarm should anything arise,” she said suddenly. “Perhaps you should get some rest.”

“I have tried,” Nauloera replied quietly. “The dreams…”

Shaani simply nodded. Many of them had been experiencing nightmares of late. Hearing the screams of their kind when they closed their eyes. Smelling death and decay even in their dreams. Haunted by the knowledge that slowly, village by village, city by city, their race was being exterminated. There would be no rescue from K’ure this time. He still lay trapped beneath the wreckage of the vessel now known as Oshu’gun.

“Nauloera! GET DOWN!”

She felt the power strike the side of the Temple as the full force of Shaani’s body thrown against her slammed her to the floor. She felt darkness, a foul taint, explode against the walls and slither along the cracks it formed. Shouts echoed through the Temple as the few remaining guards and anchorites rushed to meet the coming onslaught.

“Quickly,” Shaani rasped as she scrambled to her hooves, cradling an injured arm. “We have to seal this room.”

Nauloera hurried to follow as shouts rang out from the courtyard. Guttural voices cried out war cries and celebratory screams as she heard the guards being overrun. She helped Shaani shove the heavy stone door into place as cries of agony began to echo into the corridors.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast! She thought wildly as they tried to barricade the door. Their best guards, the finest and strongest they had at the Temple, had stayed to protect them and the wounded. How could they be overrun so quickly?

She could hear the cries echoing through the corridor as the battle came nearer. “Nauloera, someone has to get out!” Shaani grabbed her by the arm and all but dragged her to the supply room. “Here. There is a corridor. It leads through the depths of the Temple and out the valley wall to the east. Follow it and report to Shattrath.”

Nauloera gritted her teeth and planted her hooves as Shaani pulled aside a storage cabinet and tried to shove her into the corridor it hid. “NO! I can fight! I can’t leave my patients!”

“Don’t argue with me! None of us are going to survive! Someone has to report! There are more of them than we anticipated. If you stay, there will be nobody, do you hear me? NOBODY to remember what happened here this day! Now GO!” With a final growl, Shaani shoved Nauloera into the corridor and dragged the heavy cabinet back over the entry.

A spear of light pierced the dark, stone passage and Nauloera pressed her face close to peer back into the infirmary. She saw Shaani pick up a heavy staff from the corner as something was slammed against the door. Moments later the door gave way and orcs streamed into the room shouting in triumph. Nauloera watched in horror as they overran Shaani. She was hardly a hindrance to their maddened slaughter. Three other junior Anchorites were similarly slaughtered and then they started on the wounded.

Stifling her cries, Nauloera turned away and rushed down the dark corridor. She ran her hands along the smooth stone to find her way, keeping her hooves as silent as possible in the dark. She stopped when she heard voices nearby. Another small hole provided a sliver of light and she peered out into the main hall of the Temple.

Orcs could be seen still rushing about, their faces twisted in hideous glee as they defiled the Temple. Blood stained the walls and floors, furniture lay scattered and broken, tapestries and sconces torn from the walls. Smoke began to fill the rooms where other areas had been torched.

In the center of the room stood an orc, large even for his race, issuing orders to the others around him. She watched as Draenei survivors were dragged into the room, their injured bodies thrown harshly into a corner. He stared at them as more were brought in, beaten, bleeding and broken. She gasped as Shaani was thrown to the floor, moaning weakly. Even from here she could tell the Anchorite would not survive long if her wounds were not treated.

When no more were brought in, another orc approached their commander and spoke to him in their deep, guttural language. The commander nodded once and turned to walk over to the captives. Nauloera could not look away. She knew she should leave, should get out and away, but she could not tear her eyes from the scene before her.

The orc commander looked around and stopped, staring at one of the least injured, who in turn stared back, defiant.

“We have no use for prisoners here.” The speech was slow and thick but clearly intended to be Draenei language. Nauloera dared not wonder how he had learned it. “You will be marched to Hellfire in the North. Call out those in hiding and it will be easier on you.”

She saw doubt on the face of the Anchorite. “There are none in hiding,” he said. “We had no time.”

Nauloera stared, in shock. Taken to Hellfire. There may still be a chance. If she could follow them, perhaps free them or notify her people where they were, perhaps they could get them out of the hands of the orcs. Hellfire would be a march of weeks. They would have to act soon because judging by the wounds on the captives, many of them would not survive a forced march of that length.

When the guards began rounding up the captives and taking them from the room, she used the noise to cover her steps as she hurried further down the corridor. If this corridor came out the eastern face of the valley, that was far below the courtyards and even this room. She would have to hurry to reach it in time to see where the captives were taken.

She had no idea how much time had passed. The darkness of the corridor forced her to slow down to travel it or risk injuring herself at unexpected turns or slopes. More than once she stumbled and fell to the floor skinning her knees and hands on the rough stone. She nearly panicked when she came to the end of the corridor. The wall felt smooth and she could find no way out. She wondered if she had taken a wrong turn and ended up in a dead-end.

She calmed herself after a moment and remembered the entry to the corridor. It had been covered by a heavy cabinet. Hidden from easy view. This end was surely well hidden as well. She carefully ran her hands over the walls investigating every tiny imperfection in the stone she found. When her fingers slipped into a small opening in the darkness she let loose a gasp of relief. Inside she could feel small levers. As she worked them in the darkness she heard the wall let loose a low groan then felt it slip open slightly. Putting her weight against it she pushed it open far enough to fit her body through and pre-dawn light filtered into the space.

She stepped out into a crowd of thick brush and carefully made her way through it, along the wall. She crouched down into the brush when she came within sight of the main courtyard. Her people, the surviving Anchorites and Acolytes from the Temple were gathered there surrounded by orc warriors. She briefly wondered if she could cause enough distraction to allow them to escape but discarded the idea just as quickly. Archers lined the walls and the nearby area was heavily infested with more blood smeared orcs. She would have no chance of doing anything effective. She would have to wait until they began the march then hurry on her way to Shattrath for aid.

She watched as the orc commander barked a few orders to the others surrounding the captives. The reaction was swift and merciless; they set upon the captives like rabid animals. Every last Draenei was mercilessly slaughtered before her eyes. She clamped her hands over her mouth to hold in her own screams of sorrow and rage. The orcs smeared the blood of the slain over themselves crying out as if murdering helpless captives were some great and honorable feat. Over it all stood the orc commander, a pleased expression on his face.

Nauloera hurried as quickly as she could back to the hidden corridor. She scrambled inside and pulled it shut behind her, collapsing to the floor in the darkness and muffling her sobs in the folds of her robe. How could they do this? All of them slaughtered. Butchered like animals. No, less than animals. The orcs showed more honor in the hunting of beasts than they did her people.

I do not know how long it was before I was finally able to leave that darkened corridor. I still wonder to this day how the orcs did not find me and leave my body to rot at the base of what had been our most sacred temple. Eventually I left. Some instinct led me to Shattrath but I do not remember the journey. I do not think I cared if they found and destroyed me as they had the rest of the healers and clerics of the Temple. I do not think I cared if the beasts of the world found me and devoured me. Everything I loved, everything I cared for, had been destroyed. It was as if there had been so much taken from me, there was nothing of me left.

Eventually I was found by a patrol of my people and taken to Shattrath. I remember little of it. It was as if I was trapped in a fog of horror. There I remained until I heard that the orcs were coming for our last city. It was then that I knew what I must do.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 12th, 2008 at 8:00 am and is filed under IC: Nauloera, In Character.You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.