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#Post#: 422--------------------------------------------------
Run Through the Jungle
By: Tyrana Date: July 20, 2015, 1:39 am
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“Hell isn’t some barren furnace; it’s this goddamn jungle where
everything wants to kill you.”
Ghaoithe chuckled and turned to Alex. The blonde’s curls drooped
limply in front of her face. Though her stocky frame had toned
and become used to work over the past few months, even it sagged
under the weight of an oversized bag and oppressive humidity.
“I never said adventure would be easy,” Ghaoithe replied. “If it
were, it would be immediately be turned into a resort and spa.”
The captain cut through another tangle of vines, allowing her
partner to stagger through. Sounds of life buzzed and hollered
from every inch around them, an untamed land fit only for the
hardy and the crazed. Though Ghaoithe loved the jungle as her
second home, Alex had a point: let your guard down for but a
second and the forest would claim you without leaving so much as
a tooth behind. As if the jungle were making a statement,
Ghaoithe brushed a particularly menacing worm-like creature off
of Alex’s backpack, taking care not to disturb the former
farmgirl in the process. If there was one thing Ghaoithe had
learned about teaching new explorers, it was that people and
guns often caused less panic than the imagination of nature.
For her part, the captain was having as much fun as possible
given the circumstances. Though much of her work was spent in
the sand and sun, the forests of Stranglethorn were her home.
She felt comfortable there. And it had been far too long since
she’d returned for a visit.
They passed through more thick brush before coming upon a small
patch of dry ground. Sensing Alex’s frustration, Ghaoithe called
for a break. Alex’s pack hit the ground almost as the words were
said. The rest of the party did the same. Before long, they were
comfortable with sandwiches in hand. Alex devoured hers with a
ravenous spirit and quickly moved on to a warm cup of coffee.
Wiping her mouth with a sweat-moist sleeve, she passed a glare
in the captain’s direction. “You’re sure you know where we’re
going?” she asked.
“More or less,” Ghaoithe replied.
“That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”
Ghaoithe leaned back against the tangle of roots acting as her
seat and smiled over her drink. “Then be assured that I know my
homeland as much as anyone can know this jungle.”
A few members of the crew listening in chuckled. Alex furrowed
her eyebrows as she thought before her cheeks brightened with
understanding. She coughed lightly at her own naivete. “I…
sorry. You never mentioned it.”
Ghaoithe only shrugged. “Not much to tell.”
Alex knew better than to press for more information. Getting
Ghaoithe to talk about anything personal was not unlike climbing
Hyjal in underwear. No, she would just have to wait for the
captain to reveal more on her own terms.
From outside the clearing came the rustle of an intruder. The
party came to their feet, readying their weapons in the
direction of the commotion. Ghaoithe, however, remained seated
and calmly finished her drink. Within moments, the wild hair and
painted faces of a troll scouting band had materialized, as
equally prepared for battle as the Cloudkicker expedition.
Alex’s nerves began to race as she grasped the hilt of her own
sword strapped on her back; she still fresh when it came to
combat.
“Stand down,” Ghaoithe said. She stood up, towering over the
rest of her crew and most of the trolls.
After a few uneasy glances, the trolls and Ghaoithe’s crew
lowered their blades. From amid their group, a hulking,
green-skinned troll adorned in a collection of rattling skulls
made his way to the forefront. He eyes Ghaoithe, and the captain
eyed him back.
At once, they both grinned and hugged each other with laughter
echoing throughout the clearing. Both groups eased their weapons
completely and began to shake hands in greeting.
“Gentlemen, this is Zun’ka. He’s an old friend and the
second-best tracker you’ll find in this forest,” Ghaoithe said.
Zun’ka grinned wickedly. “You mean da best. You ain’t offered a
challenge worthy of da title yet, ya fire-headed witch.”
Drinks and rations were passed among the camp. The humidity
seemed to dissipate among good company. Alex soaked it all in.
For her part, she had no ill-will against any of the races, but
much of her early life had been dictated by war between the
Alliance and the Horde. Though being a member of the Cloudkicker
had opened her mind, she had not met many trolls. She listened,
fascinated, as one of the younger members of Zun’ka’s tribe
explained the meanings behind his various tribal tattoos.
Once the food had been cleared, the tribe lit a pipe to pass
around to the parties as the conversation took a more solemn
turn.
“You should come home more often, Sky Thief. It has been four
years by my last count,” Zun’ka reflected, smoke wafting to the
leaves above.
Ghaoithe smiled, and Alex detected a hint of bitterness in it.
“Business keeps me busy. And, sadly, this trip isn’t for
pleasure.”
“What do you seek, child?”
Ghaoithe took a long drag from the pipe and passed it to Alex on
her left. “One of my men has not been seen for some while. Tall,
dashing human. It’s not uncommon for my people to leave for a
time on personal errands, but this worried me. There was word he
may have been down here.”
“I see,” Zun’ka said. He stroked his whiskered chin before
conversing with his tribe in their native tongue. Ghaoithe’s
face fell at their discussion, but most of the crew was lost in
the conversation. Eventually, Zun’ka nodded and continued in
Common. “There had been word of a foreigner in these parts. He
was explorin’ the ruins to the East. Bad mojo there, I’m afraid.
I fear you may not find a happy ending if that was his goal.”
“Thank you for the information, but you know me,” Ghaoithe
replied with a half-hearted smirk.
Zun’ka laughed and clasped his hand on her back. “That I do,
child. That I do. I only wish I had better tidings for ya.”
“You could join us. We could use the extra spears if that’s
where we’re going.”
“I wish I could, but, well, you know me.”
Ghaoithe nodded in understanding and did not push harder.
Instead she simply put her arm around the aging troll and said
something back to him in his language. Together, they raised
their glasses to the group, and the party continued well into
the night.
#Post#: 447--------------------------------------------------
Re: Run Through the Jungle
By: Tyrana Date: August 2, 2015, 5:19 pm
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By the time Alex awoke, the troll band had already departed,
leaving little more than the faint musk of tobacco lingering in
the forest air. She thought she would be used to drinking, that
her tolerance would eventually adjust to the rigors of ship
life. It did not. She rubbed her head and looked blearily around
the clearing at the others already packing their belongings. As
usual, Ghaoithe was readily alert and ready, as though she had
not touched a drop at all though she undoubtedly had guzzled
more than several of her men’s worth of rum.
“It’s ok to wake me up,” Alex grumbled. The crew always let her
sleep. Though it was a kind gesture, it made her feel as though
she were not pulling her weight. She refused to be the child of
the ship.
Ghaoithe smiled at Alex and shrugged in response. In the
sunshafts filtering through the canopy above, the captain
appeared both radiant and exotic, the faint lines of her age
washed away by light to reveal a princess among her tribe. With
her glowing, runic armor, she lead her people to promised lands
far and wide. Alex wondered, as she was sure so many others did,
where the armor had come from, how the captain became clad in
blue and gold. It was as much a part of Ghaoithe as her hair.
The one time Alex had seen her without it was enough.
Though the rest of the crew went about their housekeeping
oblivious to it, Alex saw that beauty and strength within the
captain even when hope seemed darkest and Ghaoithe’s age crept
into the corners of her eyes. She wondered how many others saw
the captain in such a way and how many had been left wanting in
the end. She thought of Jackson, her love before the kidnapping,
and tried to imagine the captain with a Jackson of her own.
The image did not fit, even in Alex’s imagination.
Before long, their packs were ready and lifted. Ghaoithe began
the charge back into the vines and brush around the clearing,
this time heading off towards a darker portion of forest
overgrown even by Stranglethorn measures. As they walked,
Ghaoithe met with Alex’s pace.
“What did you think of Zun’ka? You haven’t met many trolls, have
you?” Ghaoithe asked.
Alex said, “He was different than I expected. I thought trolls
to be more… warlike, I suppose.”
At this, Ghaoithe chuckled. “That is because Zun’ka understands
what it takes to be a leader.”
“Which is?”
“Respect. Some leaders, like Garrosh, believe power is something
that can come with a fancy title, but those leaders are often
swiftly dealt with. Respect is something you must earn, and a
leader is nothing without the respect of those that follow him.
Zun’ka works hard to listen to his tribe, and he would do
anything to protect them, even at the cost of his own safety.”
Alex looked up at the towering figure beside her. “Sounds like
someone else I know.”
Ghaoithe shrugged. “My crew is my family. If any of them are in
trouble, no matter how insignificant, I will be there for them.
In turn, I trust them to do the same.”
“You are such an idealist.”
“As they say, the captain goes down with the ship. It’s not a
matter of honor, but because it is the captain’s job to make
sure everyone else makes it to safety first. A leader who puts
herself over her crew will not have a crew when she needs it
most.”
Alex grinned. Typical Ghaoithe.
The noises of the jungle began to dampen as they continued.
Where they had once been surrounded by the rustling of
nightstalkers and macaws, the forest hushed with a steady
decrease until the only sounds were the snapping of branches
under the crew’s feet. Even the air felt dense and cool. Alex’s
hair began to stand on her arms.
She looked at Ghaoithe and whispered, “What are these ruins,
anyway? What makes them so dangerous?”
Ghaoithe’s lips pursed. Before she could answer, one of the men
behind Alex interrupted. “They’re cursed,” he said. “Haunted by
the ghost tribe that once lived there before a plague took
them.”
“Is that true?” Alex croaked. Already, her fear found her
throat.
“So they say. We’ll know when we get there,” Ghaoithe replied.
It was a passive admittance; Ghaoithe wasted little time in
smashing falsities. Already, Alex’s mind flashed with images of
grotesque spirits and piked heads surrounding a forlorn temple.
They had passed through a spiritual realm on the Cloudkicker
once before, and the results still caused Alex to shiver when
she thought of it. Whatever would possess someone to go explore
such a place?
Actually, Alex already knew the answer. They were searching for
Riley, every bit the wild adventurer the likes of which were in
the stories she read as a child. Ghaoithe’s description of him
the night before had been fairly accurate: Riley was tall,
dashing. What she failed to mention was that he was also
entirely vain and as focused on his personal fortune as much as
the legacy of the Cloudkicker. That Ghaoithe kept him around was
a testament to her patience and ability to find talents hidden
to others. What those talents in Riley were, however, remained a
mystery to the rest of the crew.
That Riley would become lost was no surprise to anyone. It was
common for crew to disperse for weeks at a time when the
Cloudkicker was between jobs. Ghaoithe kept an open door.
However, something nagged her about Riley’s absence. In her
usual fashion, the captain refused to let it go until feelers
were sent out, a rescue party had been commandeered, and the
jungle had enveloped them.
The crew sometimes laughed at Ghaoithe’s overzealousness, but
they followed her all the same. Perhaps that was the respect she
spoke of.
Eventually, the jungle around them filled with eyes. Stony,
moss-covered eyes. It started as only a brief glimpse of worn
rock here and there. Soon, however, the wardens of the temple
surrounded them with never-ending gazes, totems of eerie
permanence that gave Alex the creeps.
Ahead of them, the forest opened up to reveal the temple grounds
they sought. Alex had expected bones, bloodied spears, and the
shambling of the dead, but the truth turned out far more tame.
Though the ruins were quiet and bathed in perpetual shadow,
nothing frightening rushed to greet them. Moss grew over the
ancient stone, flowers bloomed in patches around the clearing,
and Alex had half a thought to lay down her bag for a picnic. Up
the side of the pyramid-shaped structure, a single wide
staircase directed them to the entrance above as if they were
meeting for a tour group.
“It doesn’t seem haunted,” said Alex.
Ghaoithe studied the entrance with more caution than her
sidekick would have liked. Finally, she turned to her crew.
“Three stay with me and Alex. The rest stick with your backs to
the temple walls. If you have to run, go only the way we came
and no other. 200 yards,” she ordered.
The crew talked amongst themselves, their murmurs far less
worried than Alex would have imagined, but then she was often
renewed in her surprise in their resilience even after months of
sailing with them. The three volunteers were sturdy enough - two
iron-jawed men and an elf who looked as if she wrestled
wintersabers for sport. Satisfied, Ghaoithe nodded.
“Whatever happens,” she murmured to Alex as they climbed the
steps, “don’t scream.”
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