#*exaggerated gagging motions from elsewhere around the table*

[frostahesmegabite]

@daily-writing-challenge - Day 2 - Blame & Wander [ Potential Content Warnings Ahead: Blood, Gore, Mild Body Horror, Sexual Suggestions ] Early Morning in Orgrimmar was one of the few times the desert heat didn’t make Orgrimmar horrible to live in. Crisp arid air rushed through its valleys, wafting through the many smells of large breakfasts being made for the many households that lay within. It was this reason that Mega took this route for his morning run, the smells and rushing morning air was enough to keep him distracted from the burning in his thighs and calves as he began to work himself into a sweat. Heavy breathing and a lack of a drink brought with him forces him to take a stop off at the Valley of Honor at the Wyvern's Tail. A place he tended to avoid in the evenings due to the overly abundant population of her occupants that came prowling for drinks or easy lays. Looking back, he could appreciate the place for what it was. Before Nat, he did much the same but got tired of the constant view of taller races who wore little to nothing and his head potentially being the resting place for someone's junk or ass. An unfortunate side effect of being a Goblin. While it did have its moments, those were heavily outweighed by the negatives, especially after a hot day of fighting or working in the heat. It was even worse on days that people decided bathing was optional. Just the thought alone nearly makes Megahes gag and forces him to cover his mouth just to clear his throat. His head shakes, causing his large ears to do the same in a more exaggerated motion before they come to rest. He heads up to the counter and helps himself to a large container of what smells like Black Rock Coffee. Typically great for waking up half-drunk Peons or Grunts, this stuff was strong enough to give Mega the pep in his step that he wanted without the need to resort to drugs or other crazy shit. The cup’s quickly taken over to a table under the stairs and he leans back against the wall with his cup in hand over his lap. His breathing was beginning to slow, allowing him to relax more and take in the scents and early morning conversations as Grunts discussed where they were patrolling for the day, catching the last remnants of drunks being pushed out to go elsewhere or up to the hammocks above that Gravy rented out. A sigh comes as lips hit the rim of his wooden mug and that energetic assault on his taste buds begins! “That’s the spot…” He sighs and with the tone of his voice, one just listening in could swear he was being serviced and in a way… He was. Mega smiles and leans back against the wall, enjoying the coolness of the wood under and behind him. It’d be something he’d need to relish, because before long, he’d be back at the shop working inside, under or over machinery if not working the forge to beat and mold metal into whatever shapes were needed for the day amongst his other workers. Suddenly, an odd calm occurs and silence with it, prompting Mega to look up and around. Everyone was gone. Gravy, the Innkeeper, the drunks who refused to leave. Everyone. It’s enough to make Mega call out, but no sound comes from his throat, only silence. This prompts a moment of panic as his hands reach up to feel his throat. Nothing seems wrong but this only makes him realize his coffee was suddenly missing too. What the hell was going on? Mega stands and heads for the door, looking out across the Valley. The howling wind blows through an empty Orgrimmar. Not a body stirs and everything looks as if it was just straight up abandoned. No clutter in the streets, no blood, no armor or gear. Just, straight up everyone left with everything they had. Concern begins to quickly manifest and Mega wanders into the street, calling out in silence still for people who are nowhere to be seen. No corpses, no burning buildings, not even a single buzzard, crow, bird or wyvern overhead either. This continues on in every building he passes. The building with the Ethereals? Empty, their machinery still abuzz with energy, but they themselves are missing. The

Bank? No tellers, the coin just left abandoned with its associated paperwork on the counter. The Baker, gone too, their loaves of bread left cooking. This continues on as Mega heads into the Valley of Strength, the reception hub for pretty much all and any business coming into Orgrimmar. This prompts even more concern and Mega goes straight for Grommash Hold. If there was anyone, there’d be all the racial representatives and the city guard along with some Kor’kron too. Unfortunately, that’s not the case as the closer Mega gets, the more the scent of Blood and gore begins to fill the air along with the sickly sweet scent of cracked skulls and grey matter. For those unused to it, the scent was nearly vomit-inducing and it was enough to force Mega to take his breathing in through his mouth like some idiotic Trogg but even then, the scent was so thick on the air that he was still catching it despite the effort. The closer he got, the worse it became and despite every red flag telling him to leave and run, his curiosity propels him forward! He moves in, taking note that the dark wooden floor below wasn’t just dark due to its nature, but it was slick and pooling with blood and viscera. The deeper into the building he went, the worse it became until his trek forced him to stop. There at the doorway into the Warchief’s Chamber was a massive pile of bodies. Racial Leaders and their Guards slain in horrific ways. Some of them strung up for bloody rituals as their entrails were used to carve out runes or sigils. Others torn and mangled, barely even a shadow of their former selves due to the mutilation. Mega felt the need to purge his stomach of his earlier coffee but what he finds in the center of the room upon a pile of bodies makes his blood go cold. “Y-you.” He tries to steel himself, voice quivering as his hands ignite with Fire and Holy Magic as it suddenly finds volume despite its earlier silence. “We killed you. Zokkine melted your fucking bug infested face and we left you a burning husk in Ahn’Qiraj.” Dinthoqaf the Defiler; the Cult Leader of the Sanctum of the Forbidden, crazed fanatic of the Old Gods. Megahes and Dinthoqaf went back several years now and he was singularly responsible for Megas current physical and spiritual condition as of present. The elf looks upon Megahes with putrid green eyes and the stare alone makes his heart and chest hurt right where… where… Megahes’ hand rushes to grab at himself. Was he having a heart attack? He gasps and grunts, pulling open his shirt to find not the Naa’ru shard that was fused to his chest to purge him of Dinthoqaf’s Curse, but a gaping wound that reeked of bile and pus that bubbled with sores. His hands lost their Holy flare and the fire began to sputter out as Mega’s strength quickly fades and he hits the gore soaked floor with his knees. His ears droop and despite his efforts to stand, all he can do is flounder and continue to keep falling as the Cultist walks down the heap as if it were nothing but dirt. “Poor Little Thing… To think, you have fought so valiantly and for what? This…?” Dinthoqaf’s arms come out in a hollow gesture. “Death and Destruction to be laid at your feet.” Something was wrong here. This wasn’t the Elf he killed, he was.. Different. Megas bright red eyes peer up at him, unable to move as if by some oppressive aura holding him down. “You don’t get it, do you?” He asks, his tone condescending before the Elf squats, letting his robes slip into the crimson pools around them, gliding across its surface and pushing back the pools just to be overtaken moments later for the fabric to drink it all in. “In all of our fear of one another.” His fingers come forward and he presses them into Mega’s wound, causing pus to gush down his front and pain to rack Mega’s frame. “You and I are caught in a cycle with one another. Your ‘Light’ and my ‘Darkness’. Parts of the same coin you know.” His slender fingers slide up along Megahes’ body and he jerks back on his hair, giving him access to put himself cheek to cheek with this Goblin. “You blame me, for this,

for you? For how your body fails you less you cling to your ‘new-found’ faith. How long will it last you Goblin? How long until you realize that I acquired the rights to my Title long before you even breathed your first breath! How long until you figure this out?!” His voice was stern and hard, aggressive and angry to the point he splashes spittle into the Goblins ear before he shoves him onto his back in the blood where his bloody foot presses into Megas stomach and his toes play chicken with the edge of his gaping chest wound. “Behold, Megahes. The rebirth of Dinthoqaf the Defiler for by your hand are all my future atrocities yours to shoulder.” His voice sliced into Mega like a new razor as he looked on and up in horror. The Defilers body begins to melt and erode, turning into ooze, rot and pus that did not just fall away but begins to head for the very wound he made years ago. Megahes thrashes, trying to tear and push away at the mass that was trying to creep into his body and fight he did but it was no good. Little by little, he could feel his body become invaded and nested within by his greatest enemy and even larger fear. Megahes flails and kicks and releases a blood curdling scream as he rips at his clothes and tears stream from his face as he knocks over the table in front of him and sends his coffee all over himself. The burning liquid doesn’t even register to him as he makes for the door in an absolute fit of terror, gripping at his chest just to find the Naa’ru shard embedded within still and his wrists glowing. The metal and Light were still working and everything was in place, but here Mega was standing in the Valley and looking at the Tail in horror and confusion as several others also looked on, wondering what the hell was going on. Megahes’ breathing was worse now than it had been during his running. His heart beat pounding in his ears and fear blasted through his veins. He wanted to run, he wanted to fight. He just wanted to survive and live, no matter what that meant but against what? Dinthoqaf was dead. They took what little of his head remained and his corpse was left to buzzards. His curse now imprisoned and locked away, not even capable of hurting Megahes anymore so long as his protections kept their power. “Was a… Gold fucking damn it…” His breathing is hard and heavy as his hands find his knees, making him bend over to catch his breath. “Fucking nightmares.” Megahes turns, making his way north towards the rear gates or Orgrimmar so he can head to the Harbor… He had work to do and now his stay at the Tail would surely be frowned upon, it was time to go. [ Thank you for reading through all of this story with me today! This is Day 2 of the DWC and I'm absolutely loving it so far! I hope you also enjoyed this glimpse of the horror show that likes to show its ugly face for Megahes every now and again! Todays words for use were Blame & Wander! :D ]

#dwc2021 #daytwodwc #day2dwc #Goblin #Megahes #Dinthoqaf the Defiler #Blood Elf #RP Prompt #Warcraft #Wyvern's Tail #Orgrimmar #Cultists

[briefconnoisseurwolf]

Clockwork Cities: Nighttime Scene

Taglist: @vylequinne @notwritinganyflufftoday @ashen-crest @a-berry-existential-crisis @howdywrites  @christine-thinks

CW/TW: Drinking/Alcohol, kissing

The boys take a while to fall in love, but once they do...

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Erastus dropped his mug onto the table, chuckling as he wiped his mouth on th eback of his hand. Ilyich, his own mug emptied only moments before, suppressed a giggle and gestured to his upper lip. “You still have some foam…”

“It’s a neverending curse!” Erastus wiped at his face again. He got half of it. Ilyich pressed his lips into a line and ran a finger around the rim of his mug. “I should hack all this fuzz off tomorrow. It’s not half as attractive as I think it is.”

“I think you look quite attractive,” Ilyich murmured and paused as he realized the words had escaped his thoughts. He shot Erastus a sloppy grin and waved a hand. “The ladies love it! That’s all I meant.”

Erastus scoffed, his eyes and mouth wide with exaggerated disbelief. “I certainly need to change something if my best friend thinks I would be interested in the ladies loving how I look! I am truly offended.”

“No, you’re not.” Ilyich leaned his cheek into his palm.

“No, I’m not.” Erastus smiled softly. His nose and ears were flushed. His hand stretched out of the table, his fingers inching as if to cross the table, but he didn’t move. “What was that blunder?”

“I have never claimed to be an excellent speaker.” Ilyich gestured to the table. “And we have emptied enough mugs to put a dozen humans under the table. It’s a miracle the world hasn’t upturned on either of us.”

“The upside to being a werewolf and an almost-vampire, I suppose.” Erastus looked around and sighed. “Seems things are quieting down. We should go.” He stood and cleared the mugs. Ilyich tossed his cloak around his shoulders and pushed their chairs in.

Ilyich dragged his toes at the ground as they left the tavern. The crystals strung through the trees and along the paths had come to life, bathing the village in their aqua glow. The fire orange summer flowers had been joined by their sapphire blue companions that only bloomed at night. Stars hung in shimmering blankets overhead with no moonlight to drown them.

He slowed his steps as they approached the crossroads where they would part ways for their respective homes. Erastus would go to his apothecary and Ilyich wold be alone for his walk to the hills where his cottage overlooked the village. And he would see the candlelight from the apothecary windows and wish, as he had every night for a month, that he had said something at the crossroads.

They came to a stop at the place where they always said goodnight. Erastus opened his mouth, already turning toward his own home. Ilyich touched his arm and cut in before he could say anything. “The tavern quieted down so much earlier than normal. Why don’t we continue the night?” He forced a grin, happy at his lack of a beating heart. Otherwise his face surely would have burned and Erastus surely would have heard it pounding behind his ribs. Ilyich could hear Erastus’s heart, calm and steady. His pulse only ever seemed to quicken on a full moon. “I tried my hand at making some of that homemade wine.”

Erastus’s eyebrows rose. “Please tell me you didn’t use Old Man Job’s recipe.”

“Of course not. I used Sally-Mare’s.”

“Thank the Dragons,” Erastus sighed and motioned to the winding path to the hills. “Lead the way, then.” Ilyich paused and blinked. Erastus tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curling. “Well? I’m not going to decline trying your attempt at a village specialty.”

##########

Ilyich grabbed two glasses and the wine while Erastus shut and locked the door. “I think this is the first time I have been inside your cottage.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Erastus as he poured them each a glass. “I suppose it is, isn’t it? It’s a nice little home. I’m grateful you all have let me live here.”

“We’re happy to have you.” Erastus accepted the drink offered to him and stared into the deep purple liquid as he added, “I’m glad you chose to stay.”

Ilyich shrugged. “I had nowhere else to go. But I’m glad, too.” He raised his glass. “Should we say some kind of toast? In case this kills us both?”

“That sound smore like it should be a prayer,” Erastus laughed and brought the glass to his lips. Ilyich did the same. Both men grimaced as they sipped the wine. Ilyich stuck the tip of his tongue out, trying not to gag on the overwhelming sting of poorly crafted alcohol and the horrendously sour undertones. Erastus coughed through a forced smile and nodded. “That is…”

“That is,” Ilyich agreed with a wrinkled brow. He went over to his workbench and leaned back against it, cradling his glass.

Erastus took a step towards him and set his wine behind Ilyich, his arm pressing against his side as he did so. A pounding filled Ilyich’s ears as Erastus dug his nails at the edges of the workbench and sucked his cheek in, his mouth moving as he chewed the inside of it. Ilyich fidgeted with his glass, swirling the wine around. He swallowed hard and threw on a smirk. “Is that your heart? Was the wine so awful? It certainly tastes horrible, but I didn’t think it capable of causing a Turn or a heart attack.”

Erastus gave a snorted laugh. His grip on the ledge loosened and his shoulders relaxed. “It’s not from the wine… Is this alright?”

“What’s this?”

“Me about to kiss you.” He plucked the glass from Ilyich’s hand and set it aside before moving in closer. Their noses brushed as Erastus leaned his forehead against his. “Do you want me to?”

Ilyich balled his fist against Erastus’s chest. “I want you to,” he whispered and shook his head, “but I don’t think you should.”

“Because you’re almost a vampire?” Erastus joked.

“Because I lied when you asked me if you knew my target.” Ilyich furrowed his brow at a pressure gathering behind his eyes and pressed his lips together for a moment before continuing. Erastus didn’t move, but his smile faded. “You were my target.”

Erastus sighed and ran a thumb along Ilyich’s cheekbone. “I know.”

“What?”

“I always knew. I went through your things while you were asleep that first night and saw the contract.”

“But… you tended my wounds the next morning.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Erastus’s smile returned. “I assumed you would kill me once you recovered. When you didn’t, I assumed you had changed your mind.”

Ilyich cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “I did. Change my mind, I mean.”

“And why is that?” Erastus purred, resting his hand against Ilyich’s cheek. Ilyich snorted and cast his gaze elsewhere. “Ah, there he is. Back to normal, hm? Confessions can relieve quite a bit of weight. I have one of my own, if you’ll hear it.” Ilyich raised an eyebrow and gave a slight shrug, a go ahead. “I don’t think any differently of you and I would still very much like to kiss you.”

Ilyich uncurled his fist and ran his hand along Erastus’s collar. “Kiss me, then.”

#clockwork cities #romance #fantasy #kissing #writeblr #writing #my writing