I arrived at dusk. I always liked this time of the day. It’s darker yet still bright enough for the trained eyes to see, and the fauna is quiet, diurnal animals are not here anymore, and nocturnal ones haven’t replaced them yet, making it easier to sense danger to come.
I had all my fortune on me, that is a set of foot pad clothes, four peaces of rancid darnassian bleu cheese, a worn dagger, a hundred throwing knives and not a copper in my pockets.

As I approached the abbey, a guard spotted me and called to me. Since I wasn’t hiding, I casually came to him. Apparently they are short of guards in the area, and they are recruiting any good willing soul that knows how to handle a weapon or any kind of arcane. Since I need the money to properly equip myself, I decided to go see the guard’s superior, Marshal McBride, inside the abbey.
The marshal wasn’t blind, he knew what I was. And in normal circumstances we will not be on the same side. But those days are hectic, humans and alliance must face more and more raids from the horde side. Its not open war, but the skirmishes are enough work to keep most of the guards occupied in the far sides of the kingdom. And the marshal had some domestic issues of his own with a group of kobolds. He asked me to lower their threat by taking out ten of the kobold vermin.
So I left the abbey and venture in the nearby woods. The kobold weren’t even hiding, they had established a small camp right outside the eastern walls. They weren’t even a threat to me; I mean I could have crossed their camped with nothing else but a curious look from their part. But instead of that, I took my dagger and started to strike them. Two strikes and I could eviscerate one of those beasts. Took me less than five minutes to complete the job, I even got time to loot the corpses. It had been a long time for me since I had to fight like that, and it really awoke my senses.

I felt I was quicker and more precise after a few kills.
I went back to the marshal, showed him the loot as proof of the killing, well not all the loot of course, I had hidden the 36 coppers I had found first. It was mostly ragged leather and flimsy chain clothes, a few apples and some spring water. That was enough for the marshal, he gave me my 25 coppers fee and I got to keep the loot, it was a fair deal, I had made more money from the loot than from the reward itself! Lire la suite de cet article »

Anyway, enough of the past, I will have plenty of time to get back into it. Today is what matters, right? Because today I decided I was ready. Ready to learn the tricks of the trade for good, ready to improve, ready to get on my quest, one with a vengeance!

It’s on my way to Northshire Valley, thru Elwynn Forest, that I decided I should write it all in a journal. Crazy girl am I? Well, I do talk to myself, I do have nightmares, and I do kill people, so by your standards, I might fit the profile…
But hey, you have no idea what I have been thru, ok, so don’t judge me. Personally I obviously don’t think I am “crazy”. Paranoiac? Hell yes! Come on, let’s face it, we are surrounded. Scared? All the time. Border line? Sure… And that’s why I decided to write this journal. To keep me grounded, focused on the things to come, not on those that went.
See, that, right there… It was a lie, yeah, I do lie a lot. Sort of a… professional trait if you want. But that’s courtesy really, I mean you wouldn’t want to know the truth anyway.
So when I say “To keep me grounded, focused on the things to come, not on those that went.“ That’s not true. It has everything to do with the things that went.
TEN YEARS!! I’ve prepared myself, TEN FREAKING YEARS!! Oh I always wanted revenge, but I knew I was too young, too frail. So I made myself stronger, better, quicker. I got ride of those sentiments and remorse that were sugar-coating my soul. I prepared myself for the day where I will finally get out of my numerous hideouts and take the road. And that day has come…

Has I walked to Northshire Valley, I could still see your red and yellow eyes inside your green skulls, your fangs pointing out. I could still hear your so called “war scream” when you decapitated my father. Orcs! Filthy monsters, I did not forget you, I did not pardon you, and I will get back at you! One by one if I have to.
What do you think made me hold against the cold, the fatigue, the hunger, the fear? One and only thing: the image of your eyes when I will bend over your body, seeing the last of your breath coming out of your mouth. The delectable moment where you will realize that there is no “war god” waiting for you in the other side, that you will be all alone in the dark despair of your blackened soul for eternity.
Seeing that last glimpse fading out of you, that’s what really made me go on all this time. And now I am in the open. No more caves, no more holes for me. I won’t be a victim anymore; my journey to you begins now.
Laugh all you want, Orcs and horde alike for that matter! I’ll make you smile even wider when my blade will cut you a new mouth, ear to ear style.

I won’t lower myself to your standards, however. I will not kill peasants and lumberjacks, children and families… But you, lieutenants, captains, generals… You, soldiers of my rank, I’ll get, sooner or later you will perish by my blade.

I was lying there, in my own blood. Three arrows in my back, one in my leg. Funny how blood taste like iron, I had noticed it days before, when they started beating me and I got all that blood in my mouth almost all day long. But today it was different; it wasn’t in my mouth, but more in the air, a smell, the iron smell of my own death.

No more pain though, no more torture. I was glad in a way. I couldn’t feel a thing anymore; which is something I had hoped for so many times in the past few days. Peace was coming at last…

The horror was going to end there, in that field. The vision of my family; butchered in front of me by those green monsters was fading, as was those terrible days following the massacre, were I was repeatedly tortured, raped and famished. Yes… Peace at last… I just had to let it go, forget it all, and take the trip to join my loved ones…

And I did… I died that day, in that field. The teenage girl that I was died, her body and her mind broken by the monstrosities she had endured.

That was a long time ago, and today I am still wondering what happened exactly in that field where I died. I mean I do remember waking up against a tree, hurting from the fresh wounds. But I cannot be sure if the incantations I heard were real or just the figment of my imagination. Was I saved by a roaming druid? And if that so, why did he leave before I regain consciousness?

For years I questioned myself of that matter, I do it less now. After all, maybe I wanted to live so badly that I came back, that I crawled under that tree myself, got rid of the arrows piercing my body and lost consciousness for a while, who knows?

One thing for sure, it doesn’t change the fact that a girl died that day, and I, Kyra, was the one who woke up.

Ten years I had to live on my own. Steal what I could from the beasts of the wild, from the streets of the cities, from the wanderers off the roads. Making my own rules, which really was essentially ONE simple rule: Survive at all costs!

Those ten years, and what started it all, made me what I am today: a rogue. No shame, that’s who I am today, I don’t deny it, and I don’t hide it either.

I made my first kill at twelve years old, it was a boar. The beast was going through my stash of berries and apples that had taken me days to get. I grabbed the first thing I could, a dead branch, and I started pounding the beast until it stopped moving and squealing. When it was over, I was covered in blood and sweat… I really did not enjoy it. But, it gave me meat for days… So I did it again, and again…

At fifteen, a wood dweller thought I was pretty – and more if affinity. There was no affinity on my part, but he insisted, so… I treated him like a boar, at least for the clubbing part of it. He wanted to be inside of me so badly that I did give him this satisfaction after all. I bite and swallowed its left piggy during our fight, to distract him before the final blow. I mean, he was twice my size, that’s fair enough right?

Honestly, I prefer boar meat anyway. But hey, if I had been hungry at that time, his corpse might not have ended up rotting in the open for the beasts to feast on…

Note

Durant mes années noires où je n’écrivais pas officiellement, il faut croire que cela me hantait tout de même, car j’ai sombré dans le « Fanfiction » (fictions basées sur un univers dont on est fan). Ce qui suit sont des textes entièrement inspirés de l’univers du jeu de rôles « World of Warcraft ». Simples profiles de personnage, ou journaux intimes d’avatar, il faut y voir un manque que je cherchais à combler. Évidemment si vous n’êtes pas au fait de l’univers de ce jeu, certaines choses vous passeront au dessus de la tête, voir seront franchement longues et sans intérêt, mais bon, quand on joue la transparence, il faut aller jusqu’au bout
Ha! J’oubliais… c’est en anglais dans le texte

Name: Kyra

Race: Human

Class: Rogue

Professions: Mining & Skining

Current Home:
If there is one thing Kyra does not have, it’s definitively a home or a base of operation. She’s everywhere and nowhere, impossible to find, she never stays long in the place.

Age: 25

Brief Physical Description:
Her angel face of a rare purity could get her whatever she wants from the crowds if it was not for her terrible eyes.
Contrasting completely with her face, her hazelnut eyes are catching the slightest of ambient light, making then shine with an incredible hardness. This window on her soul is glimpsing a ferocious determination, unhealthy. A psyche so perverted that anyone strong enough to support her glare more than a mere instant as to wonder if Kyra is still a human being…

 Smaller than average, the frail frame of Kyra is the stigma of growth slowed by malnutrition. Yet her stature remains queen-like. She moves with a rare flexibility and her gestures are almost Elvish in accuracy, which gives her an even more strange inhuman aspect. Her long hair of the same color as her eyes are attached in the back, maintained by a series of leather laces that stiffens it enough so that it never shifts before her face regardless of the nature and the speed of her movements.

 Her sun tanned skin is free of any makeup. However, the top of her left shoulder wears the scar of a former burn, too clear to be accidental; it looks rather like the print of a mark made by a red iron. Although most of the drawing remains hidden under the dusty leather clothing, the little that shows looks like a Horde’s symbol.

 By her posture, gestures and especially her gaze, Kyra lets out an aura that makes most people uncomfortable. Yourself, after having observed her at length, are starting to feel awkward… Especially since she’s been giving you an icy stare over her shoulder, clearly indicating she’s onto you…

Brief Personality Description:
Kyra is mentally unstable combining borderline, paranoid and obsessive compulsive disorder.

Goals and motivators:
She’s in for revenge and hate the Horde with her guts, especially Orcs.

Passionate about the war:
War or peace does not matter to her, she will kill any Horde she comes across. War time is just making her task that more easy.

A typical quote: 
Revenge is for men, let women deal with Vengeance

History:
Kyra holds a personal journal you can refer to.