(13) Betrayal

It was evening in Southern Tanaris. As the creatures of day retreated to sleep, those of the night began to wake and thrive, while in between the two a small band of outlaws were just settling down for the evening, ready to stay awake for a while yet. Three trolls, all sandfury, were seated around a small campfire while their small structures sat shrouded behind them, but strange to an outsider was the night elf who sat with them.

Rhia Nyoma had lost her forest green armour of the Kaldorei Defense, and instead opted for a much lighter troll-like garb, light and easy to wear. At her waist still hung an elvish blade and a long hunting knife, though for the exiles and the other humanoids that lived in Tanaris this was not something outlandish or strange as the deserts were no safe places. Surprisingly to most, smiles were on their faces as they relaxed and joked about various events that had transpired over the past few weeks.

This had been her life for months now; training and hunting by day, relaxing and sleeping at night. Although the memories of the past gnawed away at her, she was beginning to feel content with life with those that she would call friends. Perhaps one day she would leave, chase after the rumors of her people rebuilding a civilization in the north around Mount Hyjal, but that would not be for a long time yet she suspected.

As the evening wore on to night, Rhia was eventually left on her own with the Witchdoctor Zenthul as the others retreated to their sleep. The pair idly held conversation, mostly in the common tongue but a little in the Zandalari tongue, which she proved to be terrible at. She would learn a handful of words, then forget them by the end of the week or pronounce them so badly that they wouldn't even sound like words. She did refuse to give up however.

Eventually, Zenthul sighed, and with a slightly irritated tone asked. "Where is Venjo? He can't still be reading from dat book o' his."

Rhia glanced about, but she could not see the mage beside the fire or anywhere nearby. But, about a month ago he had discovered a book sealed watertight in a crate that had washed up on the shoreline. Apparently, it was an old highborne spellbook from before the war, most likely written during it and then sealed in a crate when the end was near. By chance, he had discovered it, and had begun to read through it and start practicing some of the spells. Rhia was initially unsure of what to think; she had fought against magi in the war, but also beside them. How would he turn out? In the end, she simply accepted that he would be responsible.

Over time, he had begun to camp slightly further away from the others, and spent more and more time reading from his book in the evenings rather than socializing with everyone else. The others sometimes went to see him, to see if he was alright, and it appeared to be so both mentally and physically. It appeared to be him just intently focused on his work, which was true according to the others. None the less, Rhia quickly realized that she should probably see if he was alright herself, and maybe talk to him a little about his spellwork and research, perhaps help him translate the strange, scrawling elvish hand.

"I'll go see if he is alright." She replied in the common tongue, getting up on to her feet.

Slowly, she ambled over towards his hut, a little further out than the others. His was smaller than the others, little more than stitched together leather draped over wooden poles. There was a section cut out for a door of a kind, which led in to one single room which contained little other than a mat to sleep on, a small fold up table and stool and a few bags, containing the few items with some magical value and books. Usually there was a light orange, flickering glow from a hovering flame in his hut, or flashes of various colours from spells either gone wrong or right.

As she approached though, she could immediately see that there was a steady, sickly green glow through the leather walls of his hut, and her hair stood on end as she came closer. Something very wrong was happening, as if everything natural was screaming out at whatever lay through the door of his hut. Her heartbeat was rampant, her breathing heavy yet quick. Everything seemed to slow, the only things on her mind being the glow and the sounds of herself; her footsteps, her heartbeats, her breaths. So focused, she was unaware of the panicked voice rising from within.

Slowly, she entered.

Within was a grizzly sight. In the center of the room, panic on his face, was Venjo, waving his arms about frantically. In front of him on the floor were a pair of runes, drawn on to the sand with a chalk, glowing with a green magically power. Rising up from those runes, then arcing around to meet to form some sort of archway was a dark, green beam, forming a gateway of black shadow between the archway and the sand. It was a horrifying sight, and it reeked of wrong, but that was not where Rhia's gaze was drawn.

In front of the portal, stood a hulking figure of pure, bulky muscle stretched tight over red skin. He stood eight feet tall, with large horns protruding from his forehead and savage spines sprouting from his back. He was clad in what appeared to be some dark iron or steel, yet clearly it was not anything seen on Kalimdor naturally. It had been shaped for his body, appeared more for the effect of fear than for practicallity; it was far to armored on his right shoulder, and his torso was blank and uncovered, yet that and his head were it's only unguarded spots. In its hand was a cruel and barbaric two handed axe, designed for the butchering of soldiers and civilians alike.

All the horrors of the war returned to Rhia in that moment as she saw the felguard; the screams of the dying, the burning of flesh as acid or felfire rained from the skies, the horror of the dead walking. Her family, her friends...A vengeance still burned within her. Its flames had dimmed since the war had ended, yet at the sight of the monster in front of her a cold, bloody rage swept over her, the tidal wave of the past feeding the flames. With a roar, her blades swept clean from their sheathes and she charged, blindly in to the fray.

The felguard had not been expecting someone to attack him so quickly, no less a night elf, hence his response was slow to her slash. Yet still he parried with the head of his axe, and continued to do so against his savage opponent. Rhia had descended in to a blood lust, incapeable of proper thought as she mindlessly and furiously hacked away like a berserker at the demon, his every parry only succeeding to fuel her anger and strength further. Eventually the demon realized he needed to attack back, or eventually be killed, and a swift but from the head of his axe sent Rhia crashing back in to a table.

Quickly she had to roll away before the axe flew again, an overhead arc sundering the table in two, just inches away from where Rhia had been a moment ago. Like a snake she darted towards him, lunging towards him with her hunting knife. Quickly he attempted to turn, but not quickly enough as a blade of fire ripped across his chest as the blade connected with bare flesh. Grumbling, he aimed a headbut, but the quick elf weaved her way around the attack, hammering at his less protected left arm. More cuts opened up, yet none were major enough to stop his backhand blow to Rhia's chest.

She barreled in to a post of the hut, splintering it and sending one side crashing down as Venjo started frantically trying to cast a spell or close the portal; she was not paying attention to him. The demon swung his axe again as she rolled, and this time it scored a hit. A deep gash across the back of her left hand, the one which held the hunting knife, forced it open and herself disarmed. With her other hand, still holding her blade, she jumped on to her feet and darted forward, dropping down to a slide to avoid a side swing. Her slide barreled her in to her target, sending a fresh wave of pain through her body as she collided with the colossal's armour, yet she succeeded in stumbling him on to his back. With her much lighter armour, she very quickly rose, and succeeded in slashing open his throat with one swipe of her blade.

For a moment, Venjo the troll mage sighed with relief. His mistake, a spell from his new book gone very wrong, had finally been sorted as the elf hurried to wipe away the runes. That was until she he saw the look Rhia gave him; one of utter disgust, fear and hatred. Murder was in her eyes as she approached the troll, who began to back away towards the tent opening. "No, no no it be an accident, a spell gone bad!" He tried to plead, but Rhia's fury was not yet sated. In a blind anger, she lashed out, tearing though his chest and sending him dead to the ground. She felt no remorse behind her rage, no sadness or anger at her act of betrayal. To her, he had deserved it.

The others, they had known about what he had done, they were all in on it, all in league with the demons and the legion they served. They had allowed it, no, begged it of him to do such an act; were going to give her to the demons as some sort of sacrifice. They had lied to her, deceived her, wanted her strong to appease their demon masters. Everything her kin had told her was true, but worse. They deserved only death, she thought, crazed.

As she exited the partially collapsed tent, she saw Zonraja, a warrior who held a scimitar in hand, raised defensively. "What be goin' on Rhia? I heard fightin' and shoutin' and curs.." She looked down, saw the demon blood on her, but also the troll blood on both her and her weapon. In her own anger, she raised her weapon and leaped in to the attack, cursing. "I shoulda known never ta trust an elf!" Both traded blows, both scoring minor wounds until it was all over in a manor of seconds when Rhia overpowered her and caught a lucky blow across her shoulder, allowing her to finish the troll off by opening her stomach.

By now, the other two were scrambling to their feet as they saw what had happened. Zenthul frantically reached for his voodoo staff, while Vulzal strung an arrow to his bow. Before he could release it however, Rhia had charged and was upon him, breaking his bow with the impact of her lunge as she impaled him upon the end of her blade through the heart. One left, she thought as she turned to face Zenthul, who held a sad look on his face.

"Ah thought ya could be trusted mon! And ya do this!? Why?" A single tear rolled down his cheek as he raised his staff for battle. Rhia in her anger paid no attention to his words, only charging with her blade raised. Her first slash missed as he sidestepped, and the pair found each other too close for either of their weapons and began to instead grapple, aiming to overturn the other. The witch doctor used his tusks to score a gash across Rhia's jaw, and his foot succeeded in sending the elf stumbling backwards. Yet as he stepped forward, going to try finish the elf off with a blast of fire from the loa, she struck with the speed of a viper, burring her blade through his throat.

Hours later, long in to the night, Rhia found that the haze had lifted, and she could now think clearly. She found herself, somehow, traveling northwards along the shoreline, her green forest armour in a bag over her shoulder. Her weapons however were missing from her person. In her mind, she realized fully what she had done; betrayed and butchered mercilessly, yet she felt no grief at their loss, only a feeling of...She could not describe it, and instead focused on what to do next. The realization dawned upon her that she already knew where she was going.

Perhaps, it was time to meet with her people again.