The cold wind streamed through her hair, she could feel the onset of a shiver even through the thick cape she had borrowed from the Troll Priestess. Kohakku may have Frostwolf in her blood, but she never thought the cold of Northrend would be this biting. She rode the rented windrider back to Dalaran, clinging to the Troll Priestess in front of her. Her legs were slowly getting better, and now only a simple splint held the mending bones in place.
She set her jaw.
Dalaran was not really a place she felt all comfortable with. It was a Sanctuary, where the Kirin Tor mages forbade fighting amongst its people (with the exception of a Sewer based arena where the Dalaran inhabitants can either let off some steam or witness others doing so). Alliance and Horde intermingled, some keeping their distance, and some actually overcoming the language barrier and getting along amicably, while others made their disgust and displeasure shown.
Kohakku felt displeasure at it, though not disgust.She grew up with the humans wanting to wage war, and hiding from their own armies that were sent to hunt them down. Tough life to be born in, and to be conditioned to… when all of a sudden they’re expected to walk side by side in arms with the Alliance.
She snorted as Dalaran came into view. The purple spires rose proudly, if arrogantly, into the sky while its denizens and visitors were fluttering around it on Flying Machines, Drakes, and Magic Carpets. The floating continent shimmered as they rounded it, its magic shields still stable. The Troll and Orc passed through the magical barrier, and nearing Krasus’ Landing, they were soon assaulted with the noise and smells of the mage capital. Blood Elves and humans were in proliferation, some of them yelling at new arrivals to not draw weapons on the Landing Pad and move out of the bloody way.
Bloody. I like that, she smirked.
Kohakku clambered off the Wind Rider, and started hobbling off to the side, to wait for Zahki. She carried their gear, her armour clanking in the sack on her back each swing she hefted herself on her crutches. Bridgitte was curled on her shoulder, mrowling.
The troll strolled towards them, and they both started walking towards Dalaran proper. “I be treaten ya wounds fer a small time still, but afta’ dat, yas on yer own.” the witchdoctor murmured as they walked through the arches, weaving between people coming and going. She kept on looking around slowly, as if suspicious someone was watching.
“What’s wrong?”, Kohakku eyed each passer by with a wary look.
Zahki shook her head ever so slightly. “Nut’in. Jas feelin’ dis strange sensation I’m bein’ watched.”
They walked towards the Horde appropriated portion of Dalaran to book in a hammock as it was all they could afford. Kohakku sat slumped on the floor against the wall away from the railings that overlooked the common area. She let all the sounds and smells of the Horde inn wash over her, a familiarity set against the more magical spice of Dalaran. The added earthy smell of the Tauren, and muted dead musk from the Forsaken, and the sweat of the Orcs, as well as lingering mojo scent from the trolls made her smile.
The camp fire flickered in the distance, their drakes untethered to allow them to hunt the local game. She had left her good armor in the bank, wanting to experience a more rough and rugged hunt. Leathers were donned, and they took their drakes to Stormpeaks.
She could see the depth of the far off mountains and the jagged silhouette of Ice Crown Citadel, the swirling snow storm had settled down. She stood next to him, laughing, trudging through the knee deep snow. The Northern cold was biting, but his cold never bothered her. The heat and the cold of his skin was a delicious contrast to the heated passion that they had shared in their furs at night.
She said something, and sensing a change in her companion, looked over and watched as his ice blue eyes glaze over as he grew smaller and the cliff face she once stood from fell away from her. She twisted around to meet the ground but a jagged crag rushed to meet her first.
Kohakku gasped awake, still in her slumped position against the wall of the Horde Inn. There were less sounds now, hushed tones and the soft clink of mugs against wood. Zahki was no where to be found, and her wind rider was still curled under the hammock that she had rented.
She blinked, her hand by habit came up to rub her right eye when she remembered. Her eye was gone.
The bandages had fallen loose while she slept, exposing her healing skin to the world. She touched it, feeling the tender skin, no longer the hardened skin of years battle exposure. Her legs shook slightly as she rose up, and fumbled to the corner where the pisspot was and relieved herself, and she saw herself in a lightly polished mirror.
Her hair was greasy, limp, and disshriveled. No longer a slicked back mohawk. She seemed thinner, more bone structure showing through her face, and where her right eye once was, skin was stretched over it, healing. Scars criss crossed over it, some of the arms reaching above her eyebrow.
I look like shit.
She hobbled down to the ground floor, where there were several blood elves, trolls, and orcs sprawled across some tables, still drunk or hung over. She limped past the group, into the open Dalaran air.
It was still night, the shimmering of the magical barrier tinted the sky a slightly purple, but the magical and engineered lights of the city still lit up the dark night. Just a few people were up at this time of night, mostly by the undead who needn’t sleep. There were no Alliance in this part of town, the Horde cordoned off this area and any Alliance that ventured near were punted out. To her right was a familiar sight, the stairs leading to the battlemaster, and the area where one of her superiors normally conducted business.
The stairs proved difficult, lifting her weight on each leg to rise up, but she made her way up to the top, where she sighted her superior, straightened her back, and and saluted.