Moonshade Stories

Moonshade Stories

Assassinating with oszy, 1

RP StoriesPosted by Oszy 2009-07-31 02:28

A picture of the scenery were I write my stories. And ofcourse the actual Story.

And excuse this blog thingy for ruining my layout on the stories. Damn spaces between every damn return... oh well, here goes. Enjoy!

Assassinating with Oszy, part one.

Oszy waited behind a large tree. On the other side of the small forest-road the Rogue Trainer had made himself practically invisible. The trainer was now gesturing feverishly for Oszy to do the same. Oszy merely shrugged. There was no point for him to hide; compared to him the tree was huge. Four times as wide as Oszy, maybe even more.

The sound of heavy footfalls made the Trainer seize his gesturing. Oszy and the trainer peered around their trees at the same time. A small grin formed on Oszy’s face as he saw his target approach, a bulky male Orc, clad in leather. The target was blissfully unaware of his fate, walking lazily along the road, grunting along to some horrible sailor tune, undoubtedly picked up in some bar in Ratchet.

Oszy ignored the new load of incoming gestures from the Trainer and drew one of his throwing knives. Gripping the tip of the blade he drew back his arm and, taking one final look at the Orc, he jumped on the road and let the knife fly. The knife flew towards the target. Closing the distance in the blink of an eye, the knife hit home, burying itself deeply in the groin of the Orc. The Orc let out a soft whimper as his knees buckled. Hunching over, the Orc cradled his ruined family jewels with both hands. Not that it would do him much good.

Oszy had not waited to see if the knife hit its target. He drew his swords and rushed forwards, closing the distance between him and the Orc in seven quick strides. Nearing the hunched Orc, Oszy leaned forward as he ran. Suddenly leaning back he kicked off with his left foot, outstretching his right leg as the kick connected his foot with the Orc’s jaw. The power of the back flip kick sent the Orc flying back, stumbling two steps before he fell down on his back. The body hit the dirt like a sack of dung.

Oszy landed nimbly on his feet two paces back, immediately taking a fighting ready stance, awaiting the Orc. Nothing came though. The Orc still laid where he had fallen; no movement, no threat. Casting a quick glance back to his trainer, who answered with a confused look in return. Oszy shook his head and slowly moved closer to the Orc, circling around his unmoving target. As the back of the Orc’s head came into view, Oszy saw the cause of the immobile Orc. From the back of the Orc’s head a jagged rock stuck out. The Orc had landed with his skull on the jagged rock, shattering the skull instantly. Blood and brain fluids were now slowly dripping out of the Orc’s head. Oszy sheathed his swords and turned towards his Trainer, who was slowly getting out of cover. Shrugging once Oszy addressed his Trainer, with a slight smirk.

“Kill-stealing rocks…. Go figure….”

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A Oszy story

Background StoriesPosted by Oszy 2009-05-18 00:22

I will not write about my past life. If I would and it would fall in the wrong hands, I would be on trial for nether knows what. And I have no interest in returning to any jail cell any time soon.

Instead I will write you a story, a story of a meeting and its meaning. Read it, my dear reader, and you can learn something about me as well.

It was a warm day… well, all days a warm in the jungle, but still, a warm day in Booty Bay. I was making my way down the docks towards the local shithouse alehouse. An old friend would wait for me there; both in age and time I have known him. We would meet in one of the few places that we could both visit without trouble with the local authority. We were welcome there.

I walked through the door and held back the urge to vomit when the smell greeted me in a warm wave, a unique combination of ale, vomit, piss and sweat. The smell typical for any bar filled with pirates and other sorts of scum, but still it made me heave a little. I pushed my way past goblins and dwarfs alike. I slipped through legs of humans, orcs and even tauren until I found what I was looking for. A table in the far corner, a score of woman blocking my view, but that alone told me that it was the place I was looking for.

As I approached the table I heard a very familiar rasping voice of my friend, bragging to his fresh score of wenches.

This git from Silvermoon walks up to me in shining armor and a big ornate, impractical sword strapped to his back.

“Step aside, commoner. I will have a word with the Commander.”

“None is to pass without permission, orders are orders.”

“Do you even know who I am? I am…”

“Just about to leave yes, I know.”

At this point I try to keep a straight face as the git is robbed of his breath for a second or two. He scowls as he regains his composure and starts another rant.

“Who do you think you are? Stopping a Silvermoon Hero, a conqueror of nations, an officer of the vanguard, a hero of the Argent Dawn, a…”

“I’m the oaf that is guarding the door. And you, were about to leave.”

The git literally reels at these simple words, scowls again and walks away in a dramatic fashion. He leaves with words about how I will hear from him and all that.

Never did though.

I shook my head at the giggles and the comments of the wenches on the, in my eyes, uninteresting story. It was funny how Neesha thought himself to be funny at times, while it was clear his jokes were lacking. Really, if it wasn’t for his muscular body and air of confidence, no girl or woman would give him a second glance; let alone laugh at those pathetic attempts at humor.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I had not noticed that I had walked into the crowd of wenches. Only when seeing a leg on either side I noticed and looked up. And boy was I glad that I looked up. The firm green legs on either side of me continued on towards a firm, round and just perfect behind. Booty Bay… Booty Bay indeed….

The orc looked down and me and growled something in orcish while reaching for her axe. I was already reaching for my daggers as Neesha growled something at her. Whatever it was, it seemed to work; she let go of her axe and instead turned around. She growled something as she walked away, slowly.

Neesha had switched to goblin as he greeted me.

“You should be more careful Oszy. If it wasn’t for me she would have your head.”

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware of that. It’s just that, in Stormwind loincloths have been rather out of fashion and I did not expect –that- at all. “

Neesha smiled and shoved a tankard containing some beverage towards me.

“So Oszy old pal, what is this business that you had to call me out for? You know I am retired after all.”

“Retired my arse,” I replied with a grin. “I heard you went soldiering instead, Captain even. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like heading for the countryside as you always had proclaimed.”

Neesha showed his typical sly smile.

“Retirement has to wait; my kin needs guidance first. This guidance will not come from those pampered fools of Silvermoon. No, guidance will come from my Sunfury. We will teach them Sunstriders lessons. They will remember, rebuild and once again exclude themselves from the world.”

“Rumors were right then, you did become one of those zealots,” I said as I shook my head. I was surprised that Neesha didn’t make any agitated reply; that was not his style at all.

“The Flame was a long time ago, mate. I no longer cling to my life of crime and false freedom. I now follow the road set out before me, by my father, my commander and my king. The call of duty was answered, although the answer might not have been as they expected.”

That sly smirk told me all I needed to know. Neesha had retired and had become a Captain of his own force. Yet he had not changed his ways. He was making a new path for his people, a path shaped in his way… the mercenary way.

“Very well then Neesha. Listen, I have a deal for you.”

Satisfied, I left the inn that day. Neesha would do his part of the bargain as long as I would keep my end up. He had not requested what I had expected, but then again, I didn’t know of his new goal. Now I do; I understand his requests though.

As I made my way to the boats thoughts haunted my mind. Thoughts of how one person could change so much, while one of similar history changed so little.

It had been ages since the existence of the Phoenix Flame, one of the greatest mercenary bands of all time. Under Phoenix’s leadership we had prospered. We had been a force without equal; the only band of brothers that accepted everyone. Race, age, skill or upbringing was unimportant. A ragtag group we had been, but battle had made our bonds strong and soon we were all brothers. Brothers in arms.

The success had ended though; Phoenix had finally failed to rise from his ashes, leaving us behind without a leader. And as any other leaderless band, it all crumbled. Everything came falling down on us and terrible events followed. In the end most of us had died or been imprisoned. The scant few that remained free had scattered.

Today I had seen what has become of one. Neesha had aged, that much was clear, but he looked so much better. He was taller, broader and a lot smarter. He had changed his life from scum to Captain. He had carved out his future and was far from done. His success shamed me beyond belief. Were he had prospered I had blown my gold on booze and women. And now, without the gold, both had left me. And that wasn’t all that left me. I learned shortly after that my skills had left me too. My armor and weapons had been impounded to pay for my debts; as had my house and my other belongings. And now, now where did I end up? I had resigned as a mercenary. A fresh organization and start, that much was true. Still, it left a bitter taste in my mouth; bitter that I had wasted my best years like that. Bitter that I had joined this new band, instead of the Flame. Bitter about my loss.

A slight smile crept on my lips though. Life was bitter. That was what Autumn always said. Are you suffering? Yes Autumn, I’m suffering. Embrace it!

I smiled and stepped on the boat. Suffering and misery would be my dancing partners until I had carved out a new future. We would dance into the future, on the corpses of who ever would be in my way.

“Azeroth, tremble in fear! The Bum has returned!”

ps, bleh site screwed up my layout. >.<'

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