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Asharin

Nirahsa's picture

Asharin. That is what I was to be called now because they insisted on differentiating me from Nirahsa. I didn’t like suggesting the name to begin with, but I had little choice given the terms that Vindicator Dacianna had thrown out.

The Tinkerer shook her head with a frown as she leaned over her workbench working with various crystals. Looking to be making small hand held devices out of the more symmetrical crystal shards.

At least she’d gotten me out of the Exodar, despite the failure of my façade, due to apparently needing everyone to help repel the new Orc invaders. I had hoped to get away from the Exodar by fooling that annoyingly nice Vasily that I was happy Nirahsa. Instead I’d had to agree to that stupid ritual because that is what she would of done.

Asharin finished connecting several conducting filaments in place before she began to work on assembling the casing around the crystal and the devices inner workings.

Vasily knew about my foray to that Dragoon Fight Night, such a pointless exercise. Which meant Dacianna had known and informed the Priest. It was the only explanation for the infuriatingly cheery priest to show up with blankets, pillows and what he called –popcorn- at my quarters declaring it was to be a slumber night.

She shook her head with a snort even as her hands deftly continued their work.

He confronted me about that fight night, I’d feigned being Nirahsa of course acting clueless and naïve. Not sure how convinced he really was at the least he suspected at the worse knowing much more without letting on about it.

Another click as two parts of the casing came together, grabbing a screwdriver to more securely fasten them together.

Dacianna had ruined my entire plan, she and Nirahsa were in love. I couldn’t fake that, I didn’t even try to and that alone began her suspicions and made any of my other mistakes stand out even more. Soon Vasily would know if he didn’t already. Dacianna couldn’t do anything but that priest, he was no bumbling fool even if he came off as one.

The plating was secured and the small oval device was raised up to a discerning eye as goggles whirred.

I won’t let him interfere with any more therapy or more likely, invasive mind probes meant to let Nirahsa back out. Nirahsa is safely asleep in a corner of my mind, she is dreaming, she is happy. The Orcs have returned through the portal and they have to die. Nirahsa is not up to the task, she never was. I am doing her a favor, she’d get to keep her hands clean while I did what needed to be done.

A small smile of approval crossed the draenei’s lips as she finished inspecting the device.

No one else can do it either, they throw around words like non-combatant, civilian even child as if meant to discern Orcish targets. I could understand such naivety from that Alliance, but even my own people use the terms. It is infuriating, there is no such thing as a non-combatant with Orcs, it is part of their very culture everyone is raised to be a warrior first. There are no innocents among the monsters.

The device was lowered and with a quick press of a button it whined online, a low hum coming from it, a hum that quickly grew in intensity.

So many Orcs from that Portal, to many for them to be from Outland. The aid of a Bronze dragon, the possibility that they were coming from a Draenor before their demonic blood corruption. The potential that my people still thrived, that, Shari was somehow alive. I know that if my Little Cog is alive on the other side of that portal, that there is only one thing that can be done.

Lightning crackled over the device before a brilliant blast of electrical current surged outwards filling the room with the electrical surge causing several more fragile pieces of machinery to briefly go haywire. The shaman was unaffected by the surge itself but smiled at the result knowing that such a blast would easily incapacitate others.

Every Orc on that world will have to die so that they can never harm Shari again. I will make a garden of their corpses as a warning to what happens to monsters that butcher helpless scared children, yes yes.

I won’t be going back to the Exodar, ever again. I don’t need therapy, I’m not the one with the problem no no.

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Jormund's picture

To prevent further confusions

To prevent further confusions and consequently awkward situations Jormund will call her "Nirarin"... ))

"When there is a will there is a way"

"Lead? Me? Nope, no no no no. Bad things happen when I lead. People die and I appear somewhere in Horde territory... with no pants!"