Tag: TW violence x 4

"I'm proud of who I am." 

The words left the doctor's mouth in a strangled gasp as he was being held against the tree by the throat, a large hand squeezed harder as another person roughly beat his torso with bare fists.

This was becoming a recurring event. Kate didn't mean to offend these soldiers but given how him merely being present in their region was enough of insult to warrant this he felt helpless.

"You know what you could easily do to get out of this." The words sounded like his but Kate knew it wasn't him. 

As blow after blow hit him the voice kept egging him on to peer into the men's minds and prey on whatever pain influenced their decisions to beat him.

"No.." Kate croaked out as they finally let him go, unwilling to...

The metal door swung shut and loudly slammed into the door frame. Cole eyed the small bowl of slop her father left for her and gently rubbed the newly added bruises covering her limp frame.

The cellar she was in felt cold and uncomfortable, the floor a rough stone. It was dark and damp and she felt closer to death every passing moment.

It had been like this ever since her mother died, the sight of Cole enraged her father and the result was...horrific.

Thanks to never being fed more than a dog she was sickly thin and had trouble moving. Crawling over to the bowl of less than suitable food; she heard a voice speak to her "Is this how you want to live....like an animal? With your father holding your" A fire was lit then deep inside of...

A figure could just be made out skulking through the chaos occasionally scooping gas masks on the unfortunate souls with no hope of revival under their own will, or dragging those clinging to the last threads of life to the small encampment full of her fellow guild mates. Upon depositing 3 more masks and a severely injured Night elf to the waiting arms of medics, Zaravala stood, shifting her glaives on her back before ducking out to the battlefield once more.

She praised the God's that she had not caught sight of her brother, the thought churning her stomach.

Upon locating another injured capable of being helped she carefully began dragging it across the ground.

She tugged harder on the body when she heard his voice yelling her...

Tapping his foot on the decimated ground beneath him, the Ren'dorei shifted his grip on the dagger at his side as he stood just to the left of the opening to his charge's tent. The middle aged man, named Garrett, rustling around inside caused Dizarak's ears to flick as he gauged the human's whereabouts within.

Finally the dark haired human emerged from the canvas flaps of the tent and scowled openly at his “babysitter” his gloves clutched in his hand.

“You don't have to stay so close to me, I can take any of these savage Horde with ease!” Garrett spewed , slipping his glove onto the wrong hand and immediately ripping it back off to correct his mistake. He finished the process and unsheathed his sword, swinging it around and...