A writing exercise.

[Ikutai]

To keep myself from falling into writer's block, I like to give myself strange and out-of-the-box exercises to keep the creative juices flowing.
I decided to find a random item in the WoWhead database that I have no sentimental attachment to and attempt to create a short story around it.

This is that story.

Enjoy!


As her Skeletal Gryphon touched down, the wind was sharp and particularly cold in Everlook; not that it mattered much to her. Long ago she'd become accustomed to the cold, to it's bitter caress.

As she entered the inn, Vizzie, the innkeeper, shouted to her, "Oy! You must be Angren! I have your package bundled and ready to go, as per your request."

The others inside moved closer to their hearths and bundled a little more tightly in their furs as Angren walked past, the chill of an endless, somber winter trailing just behind her.

Vizzie looked a little confused as she handed the package over. "Why'd you want this packaged up? Odd kind of request, y'know?"

There came no reply, but the bag of coins laid into Vizzie's hand along with an unblinking hard stare more than made up for the awkward silence.

"Hey, who am I to argue the wants and needs of a fine customer as yourself. Thanks for your business!" she called behind Angren, though she was well on her way towards the door.

As Angren walked out of Everlook the guards gave her a wide berth. Everyone did; she was a Death Knight. Accepted marginally by Horde society, and even less by her Tauren culture, she was still feared and reviled for her past, and with good reason. Unfortunately (or perhaps the reverse, depending on how you wish to look at it) there wasn't much Angren remembered from her time under service of the Scourge.

She walked past her winged steed, stabled just outside Everlook's walls, and gave it a rough pat on the head as she went. It looked up and made the motions of a silent caw before attempting to preen its nonexistent feathers.

Angren continued in silence, her package carefully wrapped and bundled, held tight under her arm; her weapon strapped to her back, never losing her stride, not even as she broke from the road into the snow. Snow, afterall, was something she was accustomed to. It was one of the few things she remembered well enough as part of her new "life"; the never-ending, remorseless Winter that accompanied her everywhere she went. The power of Frost...it flowed within and through her, depriving her from the warmth of a fire or the embrace of another.

After an hour or so of walking she came to the top of a hill overlooking much of Winterspring, including Everlook. This was the spot, she knew it well. She had come here once every year since her freedom from the Lich King. She sat down, careful to keep the package from touching the snow, the contents within more precious to her than all the gold a Goblin could want.

She carefully unwrapped the package; and as she did, she could feel the container within. Neatly, methodically, and with the utmost precision she removed the container from the wrapping, making sure not to spill the contents of the container. Once free of it's burdensome cover, the container steamed in the open air. Angren leaned in and inhaled, and for the first time in a year she smiled.

"Winter Kimchi" she said softly, and to no one in particular. "With this, I honour you, brother."

***

"Stop it! Stop it NOOOOOOW!" Hohona cried, wiping the remnants of a snowball from her face. She was younger, her face full of annoyance at her brother who stood atop the hill smiling and grinning like a madman.

"Dear sister, you must lighten up! Out here your face might freeze like that!" he shouted before sticking his tongue out mockingly and running down the hill towards her.

"Don't say things like that, Bro'dee!" Hohona shouted at him in aggravation. "You KNOW how much I hate the cold!"

Bro'dee was but a year older than Hohona and he often times acted much younger than she did, a role reversal he found very funny most of the time, this being one of them—that is until he noticed she was shivering. Bending down, he took the knapsack from his back and laid it down in the snow. Reaching deep inside, he brought forth a package wrapped tightly in rough cloth. Hohona could see from a few feet away that it was warm, the way the steam rolled off the wrapped package. She inched closer.

"What's that, brother? Did you bring something tasty to eat?"

He grinned at her then, a grin that stretched from ear to ear, "Why yes I did, LITTLE Sister. They call it Winter Kimchi. It is spicy and full of delicious herbs. They serve it warm, it is said to heat the body and the soul."

Hohona's eyes grew wide. "Where did you get such a food?" she asked in earnest suprise.

"While you were sleeping in the inn, I traded some of my leather pieces and some kodo bones for it; It should make a nice meal."

Bro'dee took a sip of the steaming bowl and handed it to her.

"Try it" he urged her as she brought the bowl to her lips. The spice and the heat overwhelmed her at first. Flooding her with warmth and delicious spicy broth.

"Mmmm, it IS warm, and it is good! Thank you brother!" she proclaimed....

***

It is there that the memory began to fade, sinking back into the dark recesses of a life long lost to time.

Bro'dee would go on to become a particularly skilled Druid, that much she remembered. She also remembered well that she had taken on the family trade of caravan running once Father passed away. They had not seen each other in many moons by then.

As fortune would have it, Hohona would wind up obtaining a contract to haul equipment to the Eastern Plaguelands to supply the Argent Dawn. It was also there that she was besieged one night on her way to Light's Hope, surrounded by the endless Scourge. She was frightened then, she cried out, to the Earthmother, to her Ancestors, to Bro'dee, but no one answered. It was there on the road to Light's Hope that she fell and ceased to be Hohona.

***

The memories are like tattered cloth in the wind. Bits and pieces here and there float forth and she desperately tries to remember, too many things forgotten, too many things lost.

It was during her time with the Scourge that the name Angren was bestowed upon her, meaning "River of Flowing Wrath"; an appropriate name given that rage and hatred was all that guided her in those dark times. The darkest of all is a memory she can't ever let go, even when all others slip past her reach. This one memory, the one she wishes to be purged of, keeps itself so firmly latched in her mind that it is a burden she will carry with her forever.

***

A group of Cenarion Druids had been dispatched to Light's Hope to try and aid in the healing of the land. That simply would not do given the Scourge's penchant for annihilation. The assault was swift and brutal: few Scourge casualties, no Cenarion survivors.


It is while she remembered this that Angren became victim to emotion, for the part that followed haunts her to this day.

No cenarion survivors.

None.

Not even the one that'd looked up at her in surprise. Not that one. He hadn't begged for his life like the others. He'd simply fallen to his knees, uttering a single word before she felled him with her mace.

"Sister...."

***

Angren realized for the first time in many, many years that she was crying. Her tears streamed down her face, some freezing before dripping silently into the snow.

She lifted the bowl of Winter Kimchi to her lips, honouring a memory of a brighter age; a time of family, unity, and joy. She expected to feel the spices, the warmth, the savoury broth. To perhaps feel a flicker of the life she once knew and cherished so much....


She feels nothing.

[GormanGhaste]

Thanks for sharing this, I really like it.