Refugees

Posted: 01 Aug 2005 02:10 pm
“oohhhhhhhh, gods!” the being spat out as he slowly opened his eyes and reached up to rub the temples on either side of his large, bulbous head with the index fingers of either hand.

He realized that he was sitting in an extremely dimly lit room which appeared to be circular in shape. Through the haze of his blurred vision he could make out no discernible doorways, windows or other types of portals through which the light within this place might be emanating.

He looked down at his hands. Upon them he found grand gauntlets made of some type of metal which he could not quite put his finger upon at the moment. Grayish in color with inlaid-golden trimmings, he realized that the gauntlets were significant. Yet still, he could not even recall what their names might be. Upon his legs, he wore the same type of materials, fashioned into grand chausses. It seemed he was encased in armor in fact, though he had no recollection as to why. But, for a reason he could not yet fully comprehend, he knew that this armor he wore marked him as a great warrior of a race of beings known simply as ‘dwarves’.

He reached up and ran his fingers along his face, searching for some means of personal recognition. The hair upon his face was silky and had grown to some length. This, he somehow recalled, was called a ‘beard’. Amongst his people the facial hair was a sign of both reverence and strength. Some even believed that the length of one’s beard determined the strength which your soul possessed. Above his lip he could feel a grand, bushy, mustache as well, and the hair upon his head was long and flowing as well. Again, the small twinge of recognition crept into his addled mind…the realization that his appearance was that of a being considered to hold great stature within both his race of beings and his family.

‘Family’, he thought to himself. Suddenly, with seemingly no warning at all, a barrage of imagery began rushing through his mind. Faces, sounds, smells. He could see, hear, even feel, the people who he knew were part of the family to which he belonged. Many, many faces began to slide through his mind, washing over him as if he were standing within a pool of water while a great waterfall were falling down upon him. Beings of great power within their own right. Mages, priests, druids, warriors, paladins, rogues, hunters, warlocks. He had recognition for so many of them, could almost reach out and touch each of them as they appeared within his mind’s eye, and yet they all seemed unreachable. And why could he not place a single name upon a single person?

‘So many questions…’ he thought to himself as he shook his great head from side-to-side in hopes of somehow shaking loose some clarity.

“The answers will come in time my son…” came a soft, soothing voice seemingly from all around him. He opened his eyes and look all around the chamber, but there was no one there. He was alone. Where then was this melodic voice coming from? He had some recollection of a term he was now associating with the sound, ‘angel’, though he could not place it as to why he knew this term might apply.

He heard what sounded like a soft laugh as if the being he were associating with the term he had just remembered somehow had found amusement in his thinking of it in these terms. And then the voice came once more…

“Rest now my son…resssstttt….” Came the angelic tone.

And the mighty dwarf sat back against what he felt to be some sort of a wall located behind where he was sitting upon the smooth, clean floor of the great chamber and closed his eyes as if he had been willed to do so.

The images began once more, only this time, there was no pain in seeing them. He felt joy wash over him now. And peace. As he remembered the people who now came into his mind’s eye, he smiled at virtually each of them. There was the great warlock, Equestra as he now recalled her name to be, sitting by a roaring fire with the night sky surrounding her. And what was that she was doing? What was the word…what was the word?...’Singing!’ he realized with a flash of recognition. The woman was singing as she sat beside a fire. Some ancient tune of her own race, the humans. And the song had been sweet, melodic, enticing. He felt a twinge of longing as this scene played out within his mind. Of wishing he could walk around the edge of the fire and hold her in his arms in an embrace that would last a lifetime. It was a memory, he knew. This had occurred long ago, on a starry evening along the shores of the great Loch Modan in Dun Morogh province.

The scene shifted now, and suddenly he found himself within a great chamber. The walls seemed to be carved out of living rock. He knew this to be a dwarven hall though he was struggling to recall the name of the place. Standing there, no more than ten feet from him however, was his old friend and confidant, Hecubus. ‘Hecubus, my old friend’ he thought to himself. ‘And Bob! Bob!’ recognition had now come for the great beast standing aside Hecbus. The tiger was massive, but unbelievably beautiful as well. And the dwarf knew somehow that this beast would respond to even the simplest of commands from the one called Hecubus. Theirs was a relationship not truly of master and servant, but of friends who had come to rely upon one other through many, many years of traveling the lands alongside one another. There were many teams such as this within the lands of Azeroth, he suddenly remembered. ‘Hunters and their pets’ they were called, though it was often joked about as to which of the beings was the pet and which the master. And with that recognition, the scene began to fade before him much as the previous one had.

He could now see a great tramway, a system he knew to be used for transport. He seemed to be waiting for one of the vehicles which ran along these lines to appear, and he could hear a great rumbling in the distance signaling the coming of the great metal creation. As it pulled up before him he was slightly astonished and bemused to see the tiny creature which stepped off of the platform towards him. Smaller even than a dwarf it seemed to him, and in fact it was. ‘A gnome. This is a gnome,’ he thought to himself, ‘Nittering! This is Nittering! And he is fancy!’ Fancy. There was a word he was struggling to comprehend. And yet, the scene, as it had done before now began to shift…

And so it went for quite some time it seemed. He could feel the warm rush of recognition as so many faces, so many beings, so many family members appeared before him. Beings he knew by many, many names. Bryne. Valhailient. Rowyco. Xen. Zarïa. Thaerin. Dinhe…the list seemed to go on and on for quite some time. Yet, within his mind, as these scenes began to play out in rapid progression, each seeming to move faster than the last, another question began to form. It took some time, as it hid there, skirting around the outside of consciousness. But slowly, surely, once it seemed that all of his family’s faces had been revealed to him anew, the question sprang to life.

He opened his eyes and leaned slightly forward from the wall and then spoke it aloud at last, “Who am I?” and heard his voice seem to echo slightly within the chamber he was in. Yet there was no response, only silence. He raised his voice slightly, becoming mildly agitated that the answer would not find him. “Who am I?”

Suddenly, with no warning, the entire chamber lit up so brightly he was forced to shield his eyes with his great armor-clad hands. The light was so consuming he thought that even this act might not prevent it from burning itself into his eyes, and indeed his mind itself.

“There is no need for agitation my son” came the voice again. This time the voice was close, focused. He realized that this being must be very close to him now.

He slowly pushed himself up from the floor upon which he had been sitting, his legs slightly shaking. Then bracing himself with his hands flat against the wall behind him, he inhaled deeply and opened his eyes.

She stood before him, some fifteen feet away, a vision of pure radiance. The light which had filled the chamber, he now knew, had been coming from her. Her great white robes were flowing as if blown by some unseen breeze, and they moved to and fro as if they had a life of their own. And her eyes, the deepest amber he had ever seen, were glowing so brightly themselves, they might well have been the sun of the world.

“Wh…who…who are you, milady? And what…what is this place?”
“I am she, my son.” The being seemed to blink once and a vision appeared within the dwarf’s mind. A great winged creature, beautiful, wise and exuding a power most mortal beings could only ever hope to witness. Her scales glistened in the sunlight which filtered through the treetops high above the glade he was standing in within his mind. And slowly, a word formed within his mind.

He spoke aloud, “The Life-Binder, Alexstrasza?” He knew it to be true even as the question escaped his lips.

“Yes, my son.”

He dropped to one knee in utter reverence. No being he could recall within his lifetime had stood before a Dragon Aspect of this power and lived to tell the tale. Somehow, he knew that the reverence and awe he now showed were not only due this being, but much, much more was as well.

“You had a question, my son. I have come to answer it.” She spoke.

“Revered mother, I am unworthy of your voice. Please forgive my insolence, I meant no disrespect.”

“I know this, my son. You are here because I have brought you forth, into this place, that you might heal.”

“But…revered mother…I am unworthy…I…”

“Hush now my son. Your piety is duly noted, as is your reverence. But time grows short, and you still burn with the question.”

“Who…who am I, milady?” the dwarf asked hesitatingly.

“Are you truly ready for this question my son? Do you feel your strength returning?”

“I must know, revered mother.”

“Very well.” Was all she said as she moved and within the blink of an eye reached out her hand to touch the dwarf’s wrinkled brow.

Blackness engulfed him once more. He felt as if he were falling….rapidly…and there was no way to stop the descent. Then, without warning, light returned.

He stood within a field, he knew, though there was a thick fog all around him. And the realization came that he was not alone even before the words found their way into his ears.

“Milord, the enemy approaches in vast numbers.” The voice of the druid, Equinox found it’s way to him. Scattered in a close-knit grouping all around him he could feel Rarwin, the human priest, Mac Klodder, the mage, and the paladin, Fortinbras. All were on edge, ready to engage the enemy in the coming moments…

And then they were gone. Cut down by one of the largest horde forces the dwarf had ever even heard of. Many had fallen upon the edge of his great axe. Many had fallen to the wiles and ways of his companions. Truth were to be told, this small band of what he now recalled to be his family, Refugees, had stood against some two-hundred of the enemy here within the pass of the majestic Alterac Mountains. Five, against two-hundred. But such skill and prowess did they possess that by the time the battle was over, the enemy had retreated from the valley with less than half their number still alive.

As his consciousness began to slip from him, he felt as if he were laying there, in the snow, his head weary from the battle and his life-blood seeping out onto the fertile grounds of the clearing. He could see Equinox’ lifeless form laying no more than five feet from him. And the great dwarf had fought hard to ensure that his dying breath had not been choked by tears. His eyes had closed...

He shook slightly in his upper torso and head area, moving with a slight jerk as he realized he was once again within the chamber of the Life-Binder. Still kneeling. Still breathing too it seemed.

The great mother’s voice came now, “Who are you my son?”

He opened his eyes, slightly confused to even be alive, but the cold recognition that life did indeed still flow through him clearly there. He raised his head to see the great creature standing before him in her human guise before he spoke.

“I am Fernmug Freehand, Lady Alexstrasza. I hail from the lands of Dun Morogh proper, and I am a warrior of the clan Refugees.”

The grand dragon aspect, Alexstrasza - the Life-Binder as she was known to the mortal races - seemed to smile ever so slightly at this.

“Good! Now we have much to do, my son.”