Devasha

An IC Blog for Devasha from the Wyrmrest Accord RP Server

[devildevasha-blog]

Things had changed very little in the city since Devasha had left.  It seemed as if she still had the required ‘assets’ to survive quite well among the chaos which the Humans referred to as the ‘Cathedral District.’

[houseofthewhitecrow]

Sign of the times

“A little to the left, Dama - wait, too far… ah, shit!” 

Damaris mentally echoed Verlai’s cursing as the wind gusted through the streets of Old Town. The bracket she was attaching to the bakery-to-be twisted in her hands. The ladder on which she perched rocked back and forth like a rocking chair, until it suddenly stabilized. Damaris peered down. Verlai gripped one leg of the ladder like a lover; her cat Gruff sat on the foot of the other, looking slightly annoyed at this affront to his feline dignity.

“Maybe we should try this tomorrow?” Gavia asked. Over her grey-and-black walking dress she wore a workman’s apron, a wrench, screwdriver and hammer tucked into the largest pockets. She held two long nails  and two equally-long screws between the fingers of her left hand. Another apron pocket bulged with a pair of chains, hoops and hooks.

“It’s supposed to storm tomorrow. I’d rather get this done now.” Damaris readjusted her hold on the bracket as the wind abruptly died, and repositioned it.”This good?” she called down.

Verlai stepped away from the ladder, eyes narrowed as she looked up. “Perfect.”

“Fanatastic. Gavvy, the hammer and the nails, please?”

“Sure!” The younger girl climbed up the ladder. Damaris took the nails and hammer from her with a smile, praying there wouldn’t be another gust. . The Light must have  heard, because she had the nails in place and solidly hammered in, and Gavia was back on the ground, before the wind kicked up again. Damaris leaned against the building’s front until it passed, then climbed down to the street.

“Don’t happen to know any shamans, do you?” Verlai quipped. She picked up the sign from where it had been propped against the door, and held it steady on the pavings. Gavia reached into her pockets and took out the chains and hoops, passing them to Damaris.

“The only one I really know is Diarava, and I think she’s busy.” Diarava had also expressed …reservations … about their lord’s plan for the bakery. Damaris had some of her own, but it wasn’t a fight she could win at the moment. And I might have larger battles soon enough. 

“There’s Devasha,” Verlai said. Damaris looked up from Inserting the hooks into the sign and snorted.

“She’d spend more time checking out my backside than her wind-working.” They all laughed at that, Verlai conceding the point with a gesture. 

The rest of the work went smoothly, the chains threaded through the sign-hoops, the bracket hooks attached, the sign carried up and hung by Damaris. When it was done, the trio stepped back and admired their handwork. Damaris was pleased with how the sign proper had turned out: the rose trailing up the T, the apples hanging off the inside of the O, the confection itself  in the lower right corner.  Tamanna had been charged with its painting, but had – to use a goblin term - flaked out. Damaris had picked up her slack. Pretty good for a last  minute job. Gavia caught Damaris up in a hug.

“I’m so excited! I can’t wait!”

Damaris grinned and hugged her back. She was glad someone was enthused about their shared project; she was girding herself mentally for all that could go wrong – from forgotten toppings and napkins to fights breaking out among their customers – on their opening day. “Shall I put you in charge of the coffee, or taking orders?”

“Taking orders! No one will get sick from that!”

[devildevasha-blog]

Midway between the base and the apex of her cracked right horn resides a dark piercing which would appear to have been literally hammered directly into the bone in an effort to keep it from splitting further. Atop this ‘piercing’ sits a rather large black diamond which matches her skin tone quite closely

[devildevasha-blog]

History, Chapter 3: Kinked Grass

(Contains:  Inferred Sexual Assault, Prisoner of War)

‘Great, now where am I?’ Devasha thought to herself as her dark eyes opened to the world once again.  She was laying in a field among numerous others of her kind that were clearly in various states of consciousness… though the rotting stench and buzzing of flies made it abundantly clear that not all had survived long after arriving.

She pushed herself up slowly, the soft grass feeling quite odd against her palms after having been stuck on that disgusting battlefield for so long.  Her nails instinctively dug into the ground as the pain in her head started to return.  Her shattered horn had started to split apart fully which added a sharp pain to the already dull ache.  There would be time to worry and deal with the pain later though.  At present it was overwhelmingly apparent that she was far from safe and she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

She squinted through the pain and began to observe her surroundings with a dull gaze.  Orcs of various colors, strange colors, were wandering by.   There was a loud snap in the distance and screaming from something that sounded completely unfamiliar to her.  A glance to her left revealed another Draenei who was quite similar to herself, though a bit more blue in tone.  The woman seemed to be handling things much worse and Devasha puzzled a moment over the expression of terror plastered on the girls face.. things had not been that terrible to this point.. had they?

To her right was another woman who was unresponsive to the world but appeared to still be breathing.  Devasha reached out quickly and pressed lightly upon the the woman’s neck with a fingertip to gauge if the young woman was still alive.  There was a surprisingly strong pulse and Devasha quickly retracted her hand, not wishing to draw any attention to herself by moving about too much.

It was at this point that Devasha realized that she had not seen one guard or soldier watching the small group that she found herself in.  Her brow furrowed, this was the first time that she had been trusted to be alone and it made no sense. Her gaze moved to the unconscious woman as she continued to wonder.. an idle expression of thought on her features.  “Wait.. where is the muck and filth?”  She had not meant to say this out loud, but the thought struck her with so much confusion that she had.  Thankfully, and oddly, there was no answer to her inquiry by either a guard or one of her own kind.  A quick peer down at herself had proven that she was also clean, though her armor had been replaced with some sort of dress made of what she could only assume was grass designed to make you itch yourself to death.

Again she turned to the woman on her left, “What is going on here?  Where are the guards?”  The blue skinned girl stared at her for a moment, seeming annoyed and petrified at the same time as she simply nodded her head to the left and began to chant quietly.  Devasha leaned forward and settled her dim eyes off into the distance.  There was a group of Orcs in various states of undress huddled around three or four other Draenei women.  She quickly leaned back again so that she could not see what was taking place, “So, I guess that’s where the guards are?”  Those in her immediate area were clearly not amused by her statement, but it didn’t matter much.

For the first time she was thankful for her murky eyes.  It may not have been the case, but she credited them in some part for making her unattractive to the Orcs.. though she figured that Orcs were not overly picky.  She exhaled loudly through her nose and shuffled her hooves in the grass, kicking up a bit of dirt as she tried to think of a plan.  There was no time better than the present and, though she felt poorly for the victims to her left, it was doubtful a better opportunity to get out would present itself.

She nodded sharply in an effort to prepare herself or perhaps fool herself into thinking this was not ridiculous.  With that she snapped her attention back to reality and looked up and ahead to try and plot out her route.  If only the large Orc was not standing two paces in front of her.  She frowned and wondered where the man had come from while peering up at him from her spot sitting on the grass.  A quick glance around to those who had fallen silent was given to confirm that indeed the Orc was staring directly at her.

Devasha cleared her throat, this day.. or was it a week.. was just getting better and better it seemed.  She spoke in her native language, “You don’t want me, look.” She did not know if he could understand what she was saying but it was worth a try.. pointing to her broken horn.  “Broken, see, and my eyes are dull.  Dull eyes.  Do you understand?”  The Orc simply grinned and motioned at her to stand and follow.  Devasha continued, “No no, you don’t want me.  No good at whatever you Orcs call it.  Very bad.”

The Orc reaching out to grab her was enough to convince her that the statements she was making were relatively ineffective.  She quickly stood up and curled her tail to the right tightly against her thigh before the Orc had reached her.  She had no intention of being choked again.  The Orc grinned more and turned, Devasha followed him and looked around as she did.. the others were all staring at her with what looked like pity.  “Fuck!” (or the Draenic equivalent) she exclaimed.

[devildevasha-blog]

The most prominent piercing would likely be the small barbell which goes through the tip of her tail.  It is a dark gold with black diamonds encrusting the bell portions fully.

[devildevasha-blog]

History, Chapter 2: Execution

(Contains:  Violence, Blood, Gore, Prisoner of War, Death.)

She suddenly became quite aware of her own mortality, she was going to die.  At present all of the stories the elders had spoken of in cautionary whispers during the late evening were unfolding before her eyes.  On this day she would watch those she knew face their death.  Though they generally did not speak to her or reciprocate her attempts at friendship, she still felt a certain sadness and closeness. They were all still her people and they were all good people simply trying to defend their home.  Yet, here they were lined up and marching to their deaths with a pit of corpses next to them.

Devasha had only mere moments to ponder things before movement at the front of the line caught the attention of her dull eyes and tore her from her thoughts.  The first prisoner in line was a rather imposing Draenei with his shoulders back and head held high.  The young man carried an obvious aura of pride even when in defeat.  Unfortunately the mans brave facade of strength briefly turned to a surprised exclamation of horror as a rather disgusting looking blade was hacked nearly through his neck in its entirety.  A bright blue blood frothed and squirted from the jagged gash left behind by the dull instrument and, had it not been for a bit of meat and flesh remaining, for a moment it seemed as if his head would topple off from his shoulders.   His shock would soon be replaced by a stillness as the light faded from his eyes, the peace of nothingness which came from his very being spilling forth onto the filthy ground.  The orcs to either side who had been holding him still simply let the limp mass of empty flesh fall backward freely.  Laughter and taunts soon followed as the body slid down a muddied side the large pit, which had been dug for this specific purpose, and crumpled into a heap upon a massive pile of decay.

It was quite strange, but watching this provided Devasha with a feeling of peace.  She took solace in how efficiently the horde was performing executions today and that things would be over soon for as the line shuffled on slowly forward with the next Draenei taking the place of the first.  As she neared closer to the front her eyes were able to peer upon the Orcs a bit closer.  An important looking male with skulls of various beasts hanging from his belt was sitting on a felled tree with various guards flanking him.  He would glance at each Draenei and give a dismissive flick of his filthy hand with as little effort as possible, his face eternally frowning as if in disgust of having to entertain the idea of sparing a prisoner.  He appeared rugged and scarred from battle and she could only assume that he held some rank, though she knew little of how their command was structured.

In a macabre distraction to ease her mind she began to count the ratio of prisoners killed versus those taken away into what she assumed was slavery.  To her surprise, one in some thirty five would be hauled off to an unknown fate.  This was a much higher percentage of survival over what she understood to be true from the elders.  Even more odd was the new question which would toy at her mind, would she rather be killed on the spot with a finality to her situation or be whisked away into a horrid existence?  More importantly, why would she even entertain a question such as this when ‘the light’ clearly would value ones death and pride over any other solution?

As the line lumbered on she felt hollow inside, it was likely better to simply have a finality to it all and her questions were largely insignificant now.  She sighed and glanced down to the mud which was stained with various fluids and trodden by many hooves before her.  The muck soon went from being brown and clumped to one which smelled of death and was a much more slick texture which made it hard to keep from falling.  Her dull eyes lifted and she found herself to be the seventh in line to meet her demise.

To her utter dismay, the Orc who had been performing the executions handed his rather bloodstained sword to a much smaller male Orc who seemed quite uncertain.  At the next gesture of execution from the judicator the smaller Orc, who was wearing what appeared to be the skull of a goat as a taunt, would attempt to deliver the killing strike to the throat of the next victim.  He was obviously training and missed horribly, striking the female Draenei in the face and nearly ripping her jaw off.  While she screamed in horror and pain he swung again and missed.  Devasha tensed at the image but relaxed as the third swing finally hit the side of the womans throat and brought death to the now disfigured and suffering woman.  The line slowed with the inexperienced executioner now hacking away roughly like a lunatic.   More often than not it would take him a swing or two to actually render his victim at least unconscious.  After the second Draenei was hacked up beyond recognition by the inept executioner the Orcs holding the prisoners seemed to stop caring if the victims were dead or not and, in an effort to speed things up, only two attempts of the executioner were provided to each prisoner.  In any case the dead or disfigured Draenei would be tossed into the ditch to rot or die horribly.

Devasha just shook her head slowly while muttering under her breath about the horrible luck that seemed to follow her through life.  The man in front of her stepped forward and turned to face the executioner.  He seemed to be as nervous as she felt and it made her wonder how she was perceived by those behind her.  A glance back over her shoulder was met with hundreds of glowing eyes which all seemed lost in their own struggle with mortality.  The commanding Orc yelled something to the executioner and the smaller Orc stepped to the side.  As the commander stood his full height was revealed and he was quite massive to say the least.  He slowly trudged forward, flanked by his two guards which he towered over.  His eyes pierced into the Draenei and he suddenly rammed his fist into the prisoners abdomen in one fluid and unexpected motion.  The young Draenei buckled over and coughed as he tried to catch his breath, the large Orc laughing the entire time and giving a nod of his head.  At this the Draenei was grabbed roughly by two Orcs and wrestled out of the line to be taken away to some other fate.

Devasha froze in place as the Orcs all turned to look at her.  The executioner moved to take a step forward and gave her a rather toothless grin of satisfaction.  Her murky eyes suddenly lit up with arcs of blue and white which would zig-zag as if lightning through the bleak gray drop as fear started to rage within her.  It was almost as if someone had flipped a light switch.

At noticing the remarkable display, the Commanding Orc paused and reached a rotten smelling hand out to firmly grasp a hold of her one remaining undamaged horn.  He was far too strong and literally hoisted her rather light form from the ground, her hooves dripping muck and slime as they hung in the air.  His eyes squinted as he moved her face closer to his and began to stare into her eyes.  Devasha would return the stare, her eyes unblinking, though it was not of bravery but instead a panic which held her frozen.  The dazzling display of color got even brighter as she nearly threw up at the stench of decay which came from the Orcs mouth as he grunted a few words.

Before she had a chance to fathom the situation the Orc tossed her rather roughly by her horn into the arms of yet a different Orc.  This new Orc let out a bellowing laugh and she felt his fingers wrap tightly around her throat for a moment before everything went black.

[devildevasha-blog]

Corset piercings which would adorn the back of her thighs, ribbons of black lace threaded through them.

[devildevasha-blog]

History, Chapter 1:  War

(Contains:  Combat, Violence, Blood, Gore, Prisoner of War, Death)

The sickening crush of a skull reverberated amongst the crowd of soldiers as each line struggled to make progress in the war.  Orcs with an almost abnormal strength clashed in an age old combat that had waged before in another time against the Draenei.  The ground was soiled with pools of various blood as the battle ebbed and flowed with neither side gaining a stronghold.

Amidst the carnage Devasha found herself, hefting the hammer back which had moments before sent an Orc to a very quick demise.  She was frankly amazed that she had survived the prior battles, having been ‘that girl’ who was always a bit odd and generally kept at arms distance due to her rather dull eyes causing discomfort with her peers.  Often her time in the village had been spent staring at those who would not speak to her, other moments were spent staring into the water to peer at her own reflection.  Thankfully, water would never rebuke her or pass judgement and she took a natural affinity to it.  Her thoughts immediately halted from her childhood memories as a female Orc, clearly in a state of bloodlust, would lance a spear into her side roughly.

The chainmail adorning Devasha would halt the weapon from impaling her completely, but did little to stop the point from sinking into her flesh.  Blue blood spilled from her wound and coated the spear as she instinctively hefted her shield out, smashing the Orcen woman in the face with full force.  The spikes on her shield ripping flesh and blinding the woman instantly.  The spear would be yanked out violently as the Orc fell back and grabbed at her own face.  One well placed kick of a hoof to the screaming Orcs kneecap would snap it backwards and send the woman to the ground.

Devasha was not spiteful or angry at the woman, her observation of the battle was that the bloodlust of the Orcs caused them to waste too much effort dispatching the fallen when they could have easily focused on the remaining able forces.  Her dull gaze moved over the raging scene, it was clear that she was on the losing side this day as the might of the Orcish army had already felled some of the commanding forces.  The Draenic troops had already started to fall apart as they splintered into smaller groups without the foresight of a Vindicator to lead them.  She had no intention of being a hero this day but pressed forward.

The blank expression on her face remained as she weaved between the clashing bodies.  Screams were heard all around her and smoke had risen from large pyres that the Horde had constructed.  The smoke made it difficult to see, stinging eyes and clogging lungs.  She nearly tripped over a fallen Draenei, glancing to the man as he gasped for help.  At this she dropped her mace to the ground and knelt down beside him to offer comfort.  Her eyes sparked to life with a blue hue as she called upon her most trusted ally to aid her.  As it always had, a surge of elemental energy flooded her very being.  Water started to drip from long fingers as she pressed her palm to the dying mans chest.  A healing torrent of life washed over him and restored his flesh.

Everything went black as a sword came down on her head.

It was nearly the same sound as she had heard when she had caved in the skull of the Orc.  She wondered if he had also heard the same brutal echo before dying but realized that she had not perished.  Instead, the weapon had struck her right horn with such force that it had caused a meandering crack down the length and broke the tip off sharply.   Thankfully, it also was shaped in such a way that the weapon was deflected from causing her any sort of fatal injury.

Her vision blurred as the color drained out from the world around her, leaving darkness for a time.

Her eyes would flutter open after some time and she found herself no longer in a battle.  Now faded eyes tried to focus as she sat up and gave a ginger rub at her head, everything seemed to ache.  The scent of blood caused her to sigh, she clearly had not been dreaming.  Her stare settled on a group of fellow prisoners in a line, a large Orc seemed to be pointing at a few of them.  Those that were pointed at were shackled and led off, the others seemed to be standing bravely.  Devasha watched nervously as her suspicions were confirmed. Those that were not chosen were killed on the spot.  Their throats slit one by one, bodies tossed into a hastily dug ditch before the next group was called forward.

A hand reached down to grab her arm sharply; she was pulled to her feet and shoved roughly into line with the others.