Ganymede

[Signy]

Dit verhaal heeft mijn vriend geschreven. Ikzelf vind het heel goed (niet alleen omdat ik zn vriendin ben ), ben nu benieuwd naar jullie mening. (oh het gaat over een karakter van world of warcraft).


“Talk! Talk, damn you!” the sound of a whip cracking crossed the dark room.
Ganymede looked up and saw his wrists bleeding where they met the rusty iron of his shackles. The Alliance had been interrogating him for eight straight hours now. The weight of his muscular body, hanging on his wrists, was starting to hurt.
He tried to remember some of the language of the Alliance he once heard. Oh yeah, he remembered something: “You can kiss my—”
A fist struck him in the face.
The fist wasn’t the real problem. It was the gauntlet around it.
Ganymede laughed. Revealing his blood covered teeth.
Again the whip touched the flesh on his back. He tried not to grunt.
Slowly he whispered a small healing spell over him. The spell kept him from becoming unconscious. It had worked a few times before and he hoped his captors wouldn’t notice it this time either.
This time they noticed.
“He’s healing himself!” a voice said.
Ganymede cursed himself, so foolish.
“Well,” another voice replied, “Heal this!”
The metal of a mace struck the back of Ganymede’s head.
It became dark, very dark.


“Gany? Gany? Where are you?” Ganymede was giggling, whilst hiding in high grass in The Barrens. He had to make sure his mother wouldn’t find him, otherwise the game was over.
His mother was laughing. “Hmz,” she said, “Where could he be? Do you know where your brother could be?” she looked at the little girl she was holding in her arms. A gurgling sound escaped the little child’s throat. Her mother kissed the girl on her forehead. “Let’s look further now, shall we?”
Suddenly, two strong hands gripped Ganymede firmly and picked him op. “Here he is,” a low voice said.
“Dad!” Ganymede couldn’t stop laughing. He threw his arms around the broad neck of his father.
His father hugged him tightly. “Looking forward to your fifth birthday?”
“Sixth dad, sixth!”
“Your sixth already? You’re growing so fast Gany.”
“Yes, he does,” his mother joined them. “Such a handsome young man already.”
“Mom!” Ganymede replied.
His mother looked at his little sister. “See?” she asked, “Your brother is blushing, he’s turning dark green.”
“I’m not!” Ganymede said with a big grin on his face, revealing some tusks. “Orcs don’t blush!”
Suddenly Ganymede felt to the ground. He looked up at the face of his father. He saw his eyes were vacant.
The body of his father collapsed and felt to its knees. Ganymede had to crawl backwards so he didn’t got trapped under the massive body of his father.
Then he saw it. An arrow in his father’s back.
He quickly stood up and heard his mother scream her lungs out. He had never heard a sound so heartbreaking.
Then the sound of galloping horses. Ganymede looked around and saw a group of horsemen coming their way.
“Alliance!” his mother cried.
An arrow ricocheted of her shoulder, leaving a flesh wound.
She could hardly held the youngster in her arms anymore. “Ganymede,” she said.
He looked up at her face and saw her watery eyes.
“I want you to take hold of your little sister and I want you to run to that secret place of yours. Once there I want you—”
“What about you?” he asked. He felt confused and felt something he had never felt before. He was scared.
“Listen! There’s no time Gany! I want you to take your sister now!” She handed the little girl over to him.
An arrow struck her in her lower back.
She exhaled. “Run, Gany,” she hugged them briefly and pushed them away. “Run.”
Ganymede stood there, nailed to the ground.
His mother started to cry. “Run my beautiful young man.” She turned around and gave a war cry. Slowly she run up to the approaching horsemen.
Ganymede felt completely numb, but managed to get himself moving. It felt so wrong, moving away from his parents. His pace became higher and higher. It felt like his heart was throbbing in his throat. He threw up.
Then he did something he still regrets till this day.
He looked back.
He saw his mother been overrun by the horses. They didn’t even slow down.
He quickened his pace. He felt tears running from his cheeks. He looked at his little sister. Her eyes were big, but she didn’t make any sounds. He tightened his grip around her.
For the first time he wasn’t angry at the fact he was still a bit smaller as the other kids of his age. The high grass kept him hidden quite well now.
At least he hoped it did.

Ganymede felt like he was drowning. He coughed the water out of his lungs.
His captors had thrown water over his head and now he was tied to a heavy wooden chair.
The hand with the gauntlet got a hold of his face.
Ganymede still saw a bit blurry, but he saw there was a face in his view.
Ganymede spat.
“You filthy—”, the man hit Ganymede in the face again.
Ganymede laughed.
A second blow. A third. A fourth.
Darkness.

The horsemen drove by. Shouting words Ganymede did not understand. One thing was for certain: he hated them already.
These men. This Alliance. Their language.
He narrowed his eyes and swore he would learn their language. He would master their weird words with their disgusting sounds. Only so he could tell them in their own language they would die.
He looked at his little sister in his arms. With her big dark eyes she looked up at him. She laughed. He kissed her.
He looked around. This spot, perfectly hidden between the roots of two big trees gave them the shelter they needed.
His heartbeat was under his control again. His tears were not.
It started to rain.

“We’re wasting our time with this scumbag,” the man washed the dark blood off his gauntlets. “He doesn’t speak our language. All Horde are stupid, especially Orcs.” All the man started to laugh.
“You just wait,” Ganymede thought, “You just wait.”

Ganymede had to go back. He needed clothes and milk for his little sister. He knew this task could turn out badly, or even become deadly. But without these supplies, his sister would never make it to Thunder Bluff.
In Thunder Bluff lived his uncle, an old leatherworker. It was the only person Ganymede could think of. The only person who could provide him and his little sister shelter.
From his shirt he made something so he could carry his little sister without using his hands. She was hanging in front of him. This way, he could also keep an eye on her. She started to become restless.
It must’ve been the hunger.

“You hungry? Yes, you Orc hungry? Food? Eat?” The man holding some old bread in front of Ganymede’s face was enjoying himself. “Meh, I think I will give it to the pigs. They deserve it more than you do, you Orcish waste of life.”
Ganymede wasn’t concerned about any food. His mind was focused on only one thing: the ropes becoming less tight with every movement his hands made.

Slowly he made it back to the place where Ganymede has last seen his parents. It was close to their home. He repeated the word in his head, home. It didn’t sound right anymore, it didn’t felt save anymore.
He looked at his sister, she was sleeping. Very carefully he touched her cheek. She felt warm, that was a good thing. She being asleep was even better.
With caution, he rose up, just a bit. He was now able to look over the tall grass.
He froze.
A figure, just a few feet in front of him. It was facing him.
Ganymede was preparing himself to run away. But the figure didn’t move. The figure had something familiar about it.
Then it dawned on him. The figure in front of him, was his mother.
He was starting to get lightheaded. His mother, her body mutilated, was put on a stake.
Ganymede stood there for a few moments, breathing heavily. He tasted blood. He was biting so hard on his lower lip that it started to bleed.
Swallowing hard, he moved on.
He moved closer to the body of his mother. Looking up he saw her neck. She was still wearing the necklace he made with his father for her. She had never taken it off.
Ganymede managed to pull it off and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Look what we’ve got here,” the man was holding the necklace Ganymede was carrying with him. “Useless,” the man continued and threw it on the floor in a corner.
Ganymede didn’t move or gave any reaction.
The ropes, on the other hand, became more loose again.

It was dark and cloudy, this was good for Ganymede. If there were still some horsemen around, it would be harder for them to spot him.
The only problem was that he couldn’t see things as good as well.
He tripped.
He stumbled forward, but made sure he felt on his back and not on his chest where his sister was laying.
She woke up, but after a few gurgles, she fell asleep again. Her gurgling always reminded him of Murlocs, he smiled.
Ganymede sighed and looked back at what made him stagger.
It was the body of his father. The arrow still sticking out of him. The body was untouched. Left out there, like his mother’s, for the raptors, so that these vultures could have their festive meal with these dead bodies.
Carefully he pulled the arrow out. He held it up, the metal point was still on it and he slid it in one of his boots.

There were three men in the interrogation room now. Including the man with the gauntlets.
Behind his back, Ganymede had freed a hand.
The man with the gauntlets on grabbed his sword. “Let’s waste this green good for nothin’,” he walked towards Ganymede.
Ganymede freed his other hand and the ropes fell on the floor.
The man with the gauntlets swallowed hard.

There were seven horsemen, Ganymede counted them twice to make sure. They were standing a few yards away from his house.
Silently, he made it to the door and slipped in.
Everything was trashed. The horsemen must have searched the place.
Ganymede went to the kitchen and found a jar of milk which was not broken. He also took some more cloth, his little sister was beginning to smell.
There was laughing outside.
Ganymede glanced outside, they were coming his way. He looked around and found a cupboard. Quickly he crawled into it. Just to make sure his little sister didn’t make a sound, he gently covered her mouth with his hand.
Through a small crack in the wood, Ganymede could see the horsemen by the door. They dismounted. Still laughing they patted one of the men on his back. He was wearing a bow. The others didn’t carry anything but a sword.
Ganymede narrowed his eyes.
He saw that this man was wearing gauntlets.

Ganymede stood up. With his full height he was, at least, a head taller than the men in the room.
Quickly he bend down and reached to his left pipe of his trousers. He ripped a piece of cloth away and took something out of the hidden pocket.
An arrow.
With a quick thrust, he drove the arrow in the man’s neck.
His eyes wide-open, the man crashed to the floor, his hands with the gauntlets on, pressing on the bleeding wound.
One of the other men rushed forward, unsheathing his sword.
Ganymede threw his chair with brute force to the man. The chair hit the man full on the chest.
The third man came storming to Ganymede, his two axes raised high.
Quickly Ganymede casted a flame shock spell. The man was on fire, but kept on rushing forward.
Ganymede hoped he could’ve cast a better spell, but his manapool, the inner energy he needed to cast spells, was nearly empty. The healing had cost him too much and he didn’t have any time yet to replenish it.
Though Ganymede turned out of harms way, one of the axes ripped his right side open.
He kept on turning and caught the man’s arm. Still using the speed of his turn, he threw the man against the wall. There was the sound of a neck breaking.
Ganymede picked up an axe and walked to the man he had hit with the chair. With a quick blow, he cracked the man’s skull open.
Slowly he stood up. He didn’t felt the pain of the wound on his side.
He turned around. Blood dripping of his axe.
He walked to the man with the arrow still sticking out of his neck. The man lay in a puddle of blood.
When in front of the man, Ganymede stopped. “You’re about to die,” he spoke in common language.
The man in front of him blinked a few times.
“You were already dead. The moment you killed them, you were already dead,” Ganymede continued.
The man tried to say something, but he wasn’t able to produce any sound.
“Shhh,” Ganymede said. He laid the axe on the floor and stared at the man, then at his gauntlets. He looked back at the man. “Can you see me?” Ganymede asked.
The man nodded.
“Good.”
Ganymede’s hand moved to the arrow. Slowly he pushed it further down the man’s throat. Very gently.
The body of the man reacted convulsive.
Ganymede grabbed the mans head with two hands and pressed. The man tried to pull the strong hands of his face, but it was in vain.
Harder and harder Ganymede pressed. Blood was soaking out of the man’s ears.
Then a crack.
Blood spattered in Ganymede’s face.
“One of seven,” he whispered, “One off seven.”
He walked to the spot where his mother’s necklace laid and picked it up. “For you and dad,” he said softly, his head bowed.
He opened the door and peered into the dark street.
It was quiet outside. Quiet and dark.
With some effort, Ganymede managed to cast his Ghost Wolf form. In this form he could travel much faster.
Finally he got out of Stormwind unseen.
His wound was getting worse now. He changed back to himself and leaned against a tree. He coughed up blood. He looked around, he hated Elwynn Forest already.
He needed to reach the Darkened Bank in Duskwood. That was the place where they would be waiting for him. He didn’t want to fail them.
They had helped him to spy on the seven horsemen. Where did they live? Where could he find them? How could he make sure he was captured by the man with the gauntlets? It took them months to get this puzzle complete. But they managed it. He did it.
He heard the stream and staggered forward.
He walked into the water and felt it sting in his wound. He was so tired.
Ganymede went under.

The horsemen moved away and the galloping sound became softer and softer till it was gone.
Ganymede remained hidden in the cupboard for an hour. Meanwhile he was giving his little sister some milk. She was being so brave.
When Ganymede walked out, the sun was already setting.
He kissed his sleeping sister on her head. “Let’s go,” he said.

Ganymede felt his body being dragged on the bank.
“Gany, you alright?” a voice asked.
Ganymede opened his eyes and saw that Thrall was looking down on him. Ganymede smiled. “I—” he coughed up water, “I got him.”
Thrall smiled. “I knew you would.”
Ganymede closed his eyes, the smile still on his face.
Thrall stood up. “Heal him.”
A priest stepped up. “Yes, great Warchief.”

[Littleladylike]

Opzich een goed verhaal over WoW *Speel het zelf ook* Maar beetje vaag. Moeilijk te snappen niet omdat het in het Engels is, maar omdat het niet helemaal lekker loopt je schiet de hele tijd terug van het ene moment naar het andere. Dat vind ik zelf heel verwarrend.

[Signy]

meer reacties?

[Giles]

Het is een af verhaal? Zal het eens bekijken, verhalen van rpgkarakters kunnen wel grappig zijn