[RP] Support Group: Northrend
Booty Bay August 12 Late night
The night was hot, but clear. Though the lights of the Goblin port burned bright, the stars were still clearly visible from Taz’s perch high above the city. All in all, it was plenty of illumination to see well out onto the bay, at a small figure sitting out on the water, gazing at the nearby island where the goblins were still busy constructing a statue of something or other. Even from here, Taz could see the eerie, icy glow of the thing’s eyes reflecting off of the frozen ice at its feet, and he shuddered. Water, and the Scourge. Whatever loa there be that thinks this combination is fair, I’d like to wring their neck.
He had been stalking the death knight for the better part of a day and a half now, ever since he had learned of the thing’s return to the Bay. This was the closest he had allowed himself to get, in all that time; certainly not close enough to see the thing’s face or—spirits forbid—hear its cracked and twisted voice. Taz’s hand tightened on the hilt of his (still sheathed) dagger as he imagined it, but Juzmik’s words echoing in his head caused him to relax his grip again, as they had done so many times today: It’s not his fault he is what he is. What he needs, right now, is his friend.
And so Taz stood there, on the docks, staring out at the corpse that had once been his friend in a silent standoff that the other didn’t even know he was competing in. It seemed like an eternity before the dead thing grew bored of staring at the water and ice and stood, slowly pacing his way back towards the pier. Though Booty Bay, its denizens, and the constant cacophony of goblin contraptions that filled the air should have made it impossible, Taz would have sworn before Bwonsamdi himself that he heard every crunch, crack, and snap as the water beneath the dead thing’s feet froze and thawed with a terrible, unnatural quickness.
Taz instinctively faded back into the shadows as the thing climbed out of the water and onto the docks, clearly making his way back towards the inn. The dead didn’t sleep, or so Taz had been lead to believe, but some occasionally took comfort in the feel of a chair or bed. He wouldn’t recognize me even if he could see me. Years, it’s been—the things he’s seen—the hate he must feel—maybe it’s better if—
“I know you’re there. Stop hiding in the shadows, and say what you have to say, or do what you have to do. …You sneaky, cowardly chickenshit.”
The thing hadn’t turned around, but Taz could hear the grin in that familiar voice, and the warm memories that flooded back with it seemed to blot out the icy snap of the corpses’ armor as it moved, and drowned out even the awful, hollow echo in its voice. “Stuff it in that rusty can you call a suit of armor, you too-tall sack of raptor dung.”
The death knight whirled on Taz as the smaller troll came tentatively out of the shadows, eyeing him. “Tall enough to be bigger than you still, Darkspear shrimp.”
“At least I still have all my hair, you brainless Gurubashi.”
The two stared at each other, grinning ferociously, for another heartbeat before quickly and simultaneously moving towards each other and embracing tightly. The shock of the frosty armor, and frostier skin of his friend, made Taz shudder, but in that moment—for just that moment—it didn’t matter. Raz’ijo was here again, and whatever that looked like, for now, it was enough.
“I thought you were—” Taz began, faltering as he pulled away from the chill that surrounded his friend.
“I was. Well—obviously I was.” Raz winced, breaking his gaze away from the other troll’s. “I thought you were dead too, you know. At least until I saw your name on the Gor’Watha recruitment poster. I suppose it could have been another Taz Darkspear, but…” Raz gave him an amused shrug. “Although, the Taz I knew wasn’t Taz’jin. And he certainly wasn’t a general. …Sir.”
“I’ll let that insubordination pass for now…meat,” Taz snarled, before smiling again. “How’d you think I was dead? I haven’t exactly been hiding.”
Raz shrugged. “I heard you were at the Wrathgate. You seemed to kind of disappear after that, at least according to the army. And to be honest, Taz, I haven’t been in any condition to make serious inquiries myself beyond that. So many of my soldiers, my friends, died…I just assumed you were another.”
“I know, brother.” Taz sighed, shaking his head sadly. “Too many. Just…too many.” His gaze was fixed on the death knight’s face, but it was the all-too familiar cadre of ghosts in the corners of his vision that he was really seeing. He knew from experience that a quick flick of his eyes was all it would take to make their grinning, excited and young, so young…dear spirits, they were so young faces disappear…but for once, he didn’t want to. If this was the only way he would ever see these friends again—at least, unless Papa Samdi saw fit to reunite them in his realm—at least he wouldn’t be haunted alone anymore. “You see them too?” Taz asked quietly, seeing the same far-off look in his friend’s face.
“I…” Raz closed his eyes briefly, then simply nodded. “Always.” Taz moved as if to put his arm around the larger troll, but shied away as the cold radiating from Raz’s armor and skin enveloped his bare arm. “…Not just them, either, Taz. There are so many others—so many I—I wish I could—” He paused, letting himself drop into a comfortable squat as he leaned back against a building’s wall. “I wish you had found me, brother. Before that bastard paladin freed my mind. He freed us—” Raz’s steel-clad hand slammed into the building, denting the soggy planks. “Freed us, but let us remember. I remember everything I did while He was in my head, Taz. Everything. Perfectly. And I can’t. Fucking. Forget.”
Taz remained silent, simply taking a seat next to his friend and nodding, grey eyes fixed on frosty blue.
“Our own people, Taz. And noncombatants. Kids. They ran away from me, screaming, terrified, and I—He made me—” Raz’s head hung low, and there was ice caked just under his eyes, building steadily. “I wish you had found me. If becoming this thing is what had to happen, I wish you could have found me. Before they made me remember.”
Taz looked at his friend sharply. “I thank the spirits it didn’t end that way. You have any idea how lonely it’s been, thinking I was the only one of us left? For three fucking years? The Warband, they’re great—they’re wonderful people—but they’re kids too. Same as—” his voice cracked, and he smacked the back of his head into the wall behind him, hard. “So don’t be such a selfish shit, eh? You aren’t the only one fucked up by that spirit-forsaken war.”
“You got no idea what shit you’re talking about,” the bigger troll snarled, his anger genuine this time. “You got a rack of medals coming home, and a hospital bed. Do you know what I got, Taz’jin, when I came back to Orgrimmar for the first time? People panicking in the streets, hurling garbage at me—do you know what it took to not kill them where they stood? What it takes not to kill every fucking living thing I see now where it stands? I can’t even feel the sun on my face anymore, Taz! Half the reason I came to find you was hoping you’d keep your fucking promise after all this time, and let this end!”
Taz snarled right back, seizing each of his friend’s tusks in a hand and forcing his head back against the wall. “Of course I’m not gonna kill you, Raz, you selfish shithead! I don’t care what promise we made, I don’t care what the fel you are—I’m not letting you disappear on me again, and I’m sure as fel not going to be the one to do it!”
Icy hands gripped Taz’s wrists, exerting just enough pressure to let him know that there was plenty more where that came from. “I could snap them like twigs,” Raz said, barely-contained fury in his voice belying the soft volume. “I could break them, carry us both to the edge of the pier, and my armor’d sink us like rocks. All the way to the—”
The genuine, primal scream of terror Taz let out at Raz’s words not only sent the few dockworkers who were about scattering, it so shocked the Gurubashi that he let go entirely. The next time Taz was aware of himself he was huddled behind a tar barrel at the corner of the building, shaking uncontrollably.
“Taz, I…” The Gurubashi came forward carefully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—you just—when you grabbed my head like that—I didn’t mean it, brother.”
“Not—you,” Taz managed to spit out, between chattering teeth. “Hate water. Head under—terrifying. Can’t think about.”
Raz blinked. “You shitting me?”
Taz glared, anger steadying his jaw. “Does it look like. I’m shitting you?”
“No. But I mean—”
“Much more recent.” Taz shuddered, offering his friend a small, almost-smile. “Long story.”
Raz stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing, and slid into a sitting position next to his friend. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We’re way too fucked up for this world I think Taz. Way too fucked up.”
Taz echoed his laughter, and the sound of their mirth meshing together, as it had so many times in the past, helped him bring his body fully under his own control again. “Yeah. We really are, brother. But at least we’ll be fucked up together, now. Better than going crazy by yourself anyway.”
Raz nodded thoughtfully, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder—and this time, Taz’jin Darkspear didn’t flinch away.