Rummys Blog An world of endless Monday

Monday, 26 October, 2009

Seven Four.

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 4:22 pm

“Ye’ve got to do better an’ that lassie! Or yer friends’ll be bringing home tha body in a sack an’ I’m no letting you go out ta be no cannon fodder!”

Flowersz listened once again to Peter berating her, tears blurring her vision of her dwarf trainer and his young daughter. She was trying, trying so hard. Her troop needed her back on the line, but she needed more “balance”. She’d been sent away from the front line by her troop leader. Away from her friends, away from her job!

“You need a break, you’re becoming too focused on healing, you’re going to lose it one of these days and we can’t afford to lose anyone at this stage of the campaign.” he’d said. So she’d gone to Ironforge to train with Peter, to learn to hurt as well as heal.

It had seemed easy at first, almost a holiday, stay with the Fflowers family and eat heartily. Go to the inn and drink merrily. Maybe even find someone for a bit of lustful fun.

Fair play, as her hosts would say, she was certainly eating heartily. And the evenings were certainly full of ale. And, well, as for the third, we’ll just smile knowingly.

“Are ye listening! If ye cannae focus ye may as well pack yer bags and go become a jeweller again!” Flowersz started and looked back at her trainer. “One more try” she pleaded. All she got in return was an annoyed grunt and a nod back at the training dummy.

She raised her weapons, blued steel mail rattling almost musically against her blue skin, took a deep breath. It’s all in the rhythm she told herself. Strike with the main-hand, then off-hand, main, off, main, off. And started to attack the training dummy.

She could feel it wasn’t working, again! The tears of frustration started welling up in her eyes. main, off, main, off. It just wasn’t working!

In her blurred vision she started to remember, the fallen, the friends who would never come home, the friends who would never drink with her again. The maimed and wounded who would never be the same. And worse. The friends who would never see the world as a place of beauty, of pleasure, of joy ever again, their minds damaged beyond hope, their bodies left whole in mockery of their former glories. A building anger, a deep drumming, was filling her soul. off main main, off main off main. She swung at the dummy rage consuming her. Her heart was pounding to a painful beat not her own, yet still hers. off main main. She hated the mock enemy, she hated more what it represented. The loss, the fear, the pain. off main off main. Hit it, cleanse it from the world, remove it, eradicate the crazed twisted infection that was the scourge! off main main, off main off main, off, main, main. The world was gone, just the drumming of her heart, the strange rhythm of pulse in her ears. That and the hated thing in front of her. Time was no time, Flowersz was no more. There was only rhythm, rhythm and hate.

“ENOUGH!” A hand grabbed her arm, she turned weapons raised, to kill, to rend, to destroy and saw the sturdy Peter smiling at her. With a huge heaving breath she stopped herself and slumped to the floor. The young dwarven girl stood by her, looking down sympathetically, a small feathered drum in her hands.

“Aye, that’ll do Babe, that’ll do.” Peter said more gently, patting her shoulder.

“I knew ye needed sommat more than I can give thee, so I brought me doughter here to play ye some drum, like ye get at home?

She’s a bright gel, been studying jewelcraftin’ with yer shaman mates, had an idea she did. An’ I’d say it worked a dream, di’n’t it?

Ye needed a different rhythm, ye’re not like the others.

I’m thinking a couple a more sessions wit clever Melanie here now and ye’ll be off back to your troop.”

Flowersz sighed deeply, grateful that she was going to pass, to go on, to go back. And fearful, frightened of the anger inside her, the rage that could be raised at will, by the drumming, the shamanistic drumming. A part of herself, a part outside herself, without which she couldn’t be who she was.

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