Beginnings

The sun rises over Thunderbluff, once again a redheaded shaman looks out over the lower bluff from her perch behind the cooking tent. She looks confused, a bit lost.  Who is this Wyst?, Why do they all think I am she?  Her eyes trace the meanderings of the wandering reagent merchant as she does her rounds. Her hand clenches into a fist, loosing color due to the strength of the grip.    Who cares who she was, or do I care?  I do not care, I come with fire. I come with rage.  The dead ones must be stopped.   The sunlight rests on her head for a moment, showing that her eyes have closed. She is like stone, unanimated, cold.  <BR> <BR>'' This is not real. I will not care, I cannot.. '' <BR> <BR> <BR>She stands and turns to pace, the peace of the tauren no longer soothes. Her fretting takes her to the flight master, and before thought occurs she is airborn. <BR> <BR> They will fall, even the ones of free will, they WILL fall  <BR> <BR> <BR>She lands in Ogrimmar, walking briskly past the throngs. Ogrimmar, always to crowded, always to noisy, always to much to bear. Wyst pauses looking a the lonely palms that mark the small park in the middle of the road. <BR> <BR>''I wonder what they feel, are they crowded by the noise and smell? I remember...'' <BR> <BR>She suddenly sits in the middle of the bustle, not caring for those who jeer her to move. Her eyes staring past the tree, lost. <BR> <BR> A tree, decorated, no I remember talking to, I feel  <BR> <BR>As quick as it starts it ends, her eyes unglaze, her face goes cold. Will moves her to stand, hand on mace. She bites her lower lip, growling. Folk back away from her wondering what her problem might be, but not risking their limbs to ask. A shiver takes her, then she walks with a steady stride to the gate. <BR> <BR>''Not worth remembering, no need. Whatever was is not now. Now is all that matters. Tommarrow cannot come to soon. It will be to late when it does. '' <BR> <BR> <BR>Her feet touch the durotar soil in front of Ogrimmar, her head turns to the Zepplin tower. She follows a pattern that she is not aware of. Will moves her on. <BR> <BR>''This Wyst never existed, if that is the name I bear I will learn to hear it, it is not who I am, I am more than these shades in my mind. '' <BR> <BR>As she climbs the Zepplin tower, she mumbles. &quot;There is no redemption in death, There is no redemption in life.&quot;

'''((this is a combo of me and Razas.. on how Wyst was ressurected..due to requests from others that she be so))''' <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR>((Should Wyst ever want to be resurrected..... this is how Razas would do it. The very conditions of his mind, the channeling of chaos and his insanity, allow him to break barriers beyond ken. All he needs is temporary focus to harness that energy, even for a short time)) <BR> <BR>Rocking, rocking, back and forth, a warlock mumbled incoherent strings of sentences, chaotic gibberings and mathematical formulas that were impossible for any of the sane to understand. <BR> <BR>A cold wind rushed through his prison cell, a whisper and a chill. The blank eyes of the cursed undead snapped open, and focus returned to them. Burning fire erupted behind those eyes. Purpose had been found. Focus given. The chaos had a channel now. <BR> <BR>He reached within his pocket, and pulled out a single strand of hair. He spoke one word: &quot;Lead.&quot; <BR> <BR>The strand of hair was caught again by the wind, and rushed out the window. The warlock bumped into the wall, attempting to follow, then realized the impediment of stone. He reached out a hand, and slowly the wall very wall began to crumble to dust as corruption and age filled it. Soon there was a hole wide enough for the warlock to pass through. <BR> <BR>He stepped out, and glowing eyes searched for the clue.... then he saw it. The single red hair dancing on the wind, then rushed off into the distance. To the Plaguelands. The warlock called his demonic steed in a burst of flame, and rode off, focus absolute. <BR> <BR>Days later, he arrived at Zul'Mashar, and found the hair at lying at the edge of a hut. This was the sign. These trolls were already soulless, the Lich King had already drained them. Empty vessels. Perfect. <BR> <BR>The warlock decided not to use the door, but blasted his own door into the hut. Two trolls came at him, but were blasted away with shadow. A female trolless tried to run to warn others, but his succubuse appeared and wrapped her whip around the trolls neck. <BR> <BR>The warlock moved, slowly, surely, and placed the hair on the troll's head. Immediately the green skin started changing to a lighter blue, and the hair changing to red. <BR> <BR>The trolless herself started convulsing heavily, and strength previously unknown to the warlock allowed him to carry her out, and place her on his dreadsteed. <BR> <BR>&quot;To the lake. The water, pure or not, has been the chosen gateway. Move.&quot; <BR> <BR>Soon, at the Lake, the warlock chanted, and the body floated to above the lake, floated on the water, above the water. <BR> <BR>Speaking in demonic tongues, the warlock pressed his hands against the ground. The earth itself rose up, in a line towards the body. Next, the wind howled and roared as tornade made it's way down. A pillar of fire shot down from the heavens, and the water's waves soon crashed against the stricken body of the trolless. <BR> <BR>The warlock roared, &quot;The elements themselves require your presence upon this wretched world again. And by the powers of Chaos and Darkness, I will make that happen!&quot; The warlock spread his hands, and dark tendrils shot out towards the focused calamity upon the shore of the lake. Noise like thunder, even though the skies were clear, shook the area, and then all was silent. A young trolless, hair as red as fire, skin as blue as the ocean, walked up from the shore. <BR> <BR>The warlock, his task complete, his focus lost, sat down, mumbling mathematical formulas. The trolless helped the warlock up, his mind gone once more, and placed him upon the demonic steed. The steed mentally nodded at the trolless, and trotted off with the warlock, bringing him safely back to the Undercity Asylum. <BR> <BR>And Wyst, a bit shaken, her memories not completly whole due to the stress of resurrection, walked this world again. <BR> <BR>

<BR> <BR>((how this would be from Wyst's point of view.. I think I like it)) <BR>Awakened Soul  <BR> <BR>She walks the road in Brill. A memory, a shade of what was. She walks into the inn, sits at a chair. She talks to the empty room, without making a sound. As she stands, the light falls through her. The only thing that seems to affect her is a breeze. Her hair moves in lazy swirls on her shoulders. Her feet carry her back out of the inn, walking through a newly risen. <BR> <BR>She finds herself on the road in Brill again, the wind starts to rise. The bats that make their home in the town hall head for shelter. <BR> <BR>For the first time the shade stops her automatic movements. Her head snaps to the Undercity, her lips form the word &quot;Now&quot;. <BR> <BR>Thunder is heard in the distance as the wind rushes in the fallen courtyard, spining violently, tossing papers, vials, and leaving a mess in it's wake. The wind itself turns seeking, finding the holes the forsaaken cover, the hidden passages, the horrible experiments. Gaining momentum, it breaks into a small cell, finding a insane undead inside. <BR> <BR> <BR>''&quot;Razas.. RAZAS!!&quot; '' <BR> <BR>Wyst has only the energy for that call, the need in her tone was plain. The shade in Brill fades away entire. The wind still stirs around Razas. She hears him state &quot;Lead&quot;. <BR> <BR>She is only the small remnent of the wind she sent. A single hair, her hair, she now holds just in view of the warlock. Drawing him forth, leading him into the wilderness. The effort is all consuming. When she reaches Zul'Mashar, she has long since forgotten why she is doing this. <BR> <BR>&quot;Must continue, must reach, more to do, things to do &quot;  <BR> <BR>The gasp of breeze dies for a moment dropping the hair at the entrance to a rotting hut. The air goes still, waiting. <BR> <BR> <BR>Bright Blinding Light  <BR> <BR>Heartbeat <BR> <BR>First thing Wyst feels is her skin burning, her eyes unable to focus, the pain burning away any thought but the immediate. <BR> <BR>Heartbeat <BR>The pain of her skin gives way to a grinding sound entering her awareness. Earth itself covers her as the dust settles from the Warlock's call. <BR> <BR>Heartbeat <BR> <BR>Coated in cracked skin and dirt, the wind starts to spin around her. Her eyes open only to be blinded by the fire as it bakes her skin. Sealing the dirt to her and causing her to take a breath in the small maelstrom created. <BR> <BR>Heartbeat <BR> <BR>Water enters her world as violent as any birth. Crashing her into the lake. She struggles for a moment in darkness. The water is a womb, the dim light at the surface calls. She climbs to the light, stepping out on the shore. <BR> <BR> <BR>Wyst steps nude out on the lake shore. She finds Razas sitting there mumbling. Not knowing quite why, she helps him rise, placing him on his horse. She thinks that is his horse, least the horse itself seems ok with her actions. <BR> <BR>She watches the steed wander away with it's burden. Her eyes light on the ground around her, she makes a face. The rot is obvious here. She picks up a fish from the shore, rubbing her fingers to gather some oil. The fish long since past careing, having died during the chaos. Moving with something akin to memory, but not quite aware of it, she places a finger on each foot chanting a word and walks out onto the water. She knows she is here for a reason, she heads in the direction the wind blows.