Character: Kalikiara | The Keep

Tag Archive for Character: Kalikiara

Lovesick

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

She pricked her finger with the needle again, yelping in surprise and glaring down at the cloth, putting it aside as she cursed her wound, treating it overly seriously in an excuse to take a break.

“D’is gets easiah, right?” she pouted, her tiny blue lip puckered out as she looked to the older orc, whom watched her movements. Jez was a lot of things, but graceful was not on of them. She was, in fact, quite clumsy, often stumbling over her tiny needle, still getting Gromth to thread it for her from time to time. Gromth simply nodded, grunting a “Dabu,” to her as he returned to his own work.

Aftermath

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

It was evening in Azshara by the time Jez got to the tiny cave that Gromth was living in. She looked around between fiercely rubbing at her tear-blurred eyes, her face flushed purple. Her usually well kept hair was disheveled and looked unwashed and not in her typical braids. Her robe, which she had laboured so hard for, was wrinkled. Jez was a mess, and she was alone in the cold cave. She crumpled to the floor, bawling loudly as birds squawked their disapproval of her noise.

Revelations

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

The Alterac Valley. Sounds of battle are heard in the distance and Draeka and Zij stand guard at the Stonehearth graveyard, protecting the spirit guide from harm, with only a few minor distractions.

Zij leans forward, a hand resting softly on Draeka’s plate shoulder piece, kissing her lips softly as his other hand cradles the back of her head. The warrior’s cheeks grow warm as she kisses him back with surprising tenderness, her eyes flickering closed for a moment.

Wet Lips and Hot Kisses

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Draeka knelt in front of Zij, his cock throbbing, rising up as he sat back, nude and relaxed in his chair. She sighed, grinning up at him, “you owe me, now! No freebies yet!” she winked as he chuckled at her, nodding.

“Wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of yer actions, Drae,” he smiled, flexing his muscles briefly before relaxing again. She was nude before him, her body toned and scarred from battle, her black hair in two tiny pigtails. Her skin was darker in the dim light, the brown in her greenish-brown skin more apparent. Her eyes still held the reddish glow of her former mate, though it had dimmed.

Chieftain

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

The air in Ashenvale was humid the night of the transition.

Inside the meeting hall it was thick as well; anxious Trolls, Orcs and Tauren shuffled about, desperate to know the news.

Pulling a piece of paper from his robe, Zij Burningtusk handed it to me as I stepped behind him, nodding as he told me to pass it out to the Tribe, one by one.

Return

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Kali stalked in to the hut in Winterspring, her pack full of meat and furs, growling slightly. She tossed down her pack to the floor, scattering the contents, tossing her helm down with it. She was a strong warrior, muscular, scarred, her skin a brownish-green, her hair black and pulled into two tight knots on top of her head. She stood, tall and proud, an intimidating female orc; so her stomping in with a terrible scowl on her face, and a shout in her voice, was cause for alarm.

Dark Pacts

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

It’s a hard decision to make when on part of your morals clash with another part. Loyalty, and proving loyalty, is not always an easy thing and Zij had his own ways to test for it.

Draeka arrived early to Zul’Aman, though Zij, Barath and Nazru were earlier still. She stood tall, clad in tight, black leather, a black cowl covering her head and most of her face, two long, steel swords on her hips. They waited for Heavi, and upon his arrival, the five (three orcs, two trolls) walked silently to a small troll building. She had very little idea of what to expect, aside from the knowledge that they would soon sacrifice and consume another.

Moving

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Her feet pounded into the ground as she sprinted around her small, claimed land. For the past weeks she had been training full time, barely breaking to eat. Her atrophied muscles had regained their fervor and her body was lean and tone. Her arms had begun to bulge slightly, once more, and her legs were carved into beautiful works of art.

She was able to easily slide back into her armour and practiced swinging at imaginary targets, then wooden ones, improving her accuracy and speed. Draeka was back where she was before Zij’s illness, and yet every time she tried to will her body to more towards her wandering Netherdrake, she paused and turned back around.

Meditation

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Rain fell heavily on the plains of Nagrand–the heady scent of earth filling the air. The drops glistened as they fell, lightened by the high moon. Birds chirped to one another from the safety of their natural canopies as the worms rose to the surface, bathing in the moist earth.

A sole orc sat, her bare legs coated with mud. A loose, brown robe covered her, though it clung to her, the material thick with water. Still, she never stirred, her eyes closed, her mind shut out from the external elements. As though in a trance, her breathing was shallow and calm, setting a rhythmic pace. The land hummed to her, so faintly, murmuring its silent appreciation for the rain.

Misery

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Draeka stood before the large, wooden door, hesitating. She had opted for something a little less menacing than her battle armour, instead visiting the familiar bank in Orgrimmar, taking out a simple robe, modest in cut, a rich brown. The trim around the edges, and in the full of the skirt was a forest green, accented in gold thread. Simple black shoes on her feet, she began her trek towards Jumwa’s home, hoping he had moved back in after the siege on the Keep.

She flexed her long, brown-green fingers before curving them into a fist, knocking loudly on the door and listening for any sounds of life. The plant life had grown up around the home in a not-unattractive manner, and in the heat of the summer they were blooming, if you could call it such. In the darkened Ghostlands, the flowers didn’t bloom so much as they opened, exposing their fragile innards, trembling at the slightest breeze.

Memories

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

The hut in Nagrand wasn’t large by any means. A small bed stood in one corner, covered in a black down blanket, a small pillow at its head. A table large enough for one person was inches away, a plate and canteen atop it, tiny droplets of grease from the morning meal still adorning it. Clothes were strewn on the lone dresser, ratty rags of robes and tank tops and shorts tossed carelessly atop one another, a delicately crafted chest sitting buried beneath all the debris. Tiny animals moved about on the earthen floor, munching slowly on their seeds and meats, lapping at the bowls of rain water.

The most impressive pieces, by far, were the two suits of armour, standing proud, albeit cramped. Draeka stood in the middle of this chaos, staring at the two sets, one brown, one blue-black, lost in her thoughts. Slowly she moved forward, reaching out her fingertips, softened from retirement, feeling the cold of the metal touch her skin, a deep shiver traveling up her spine. Lowering her eyes she looked at the large mace, still tinged with crimson blood, brief memories flooding back into her mind, unwelcome. Beside it a polished axe, hardly used, rested against a shield and again memories filled her.

Back to Winterspring

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Everything was spinning, but she had the firm knowledge that she was lying on her back. Vibrant colours swirled around her, sounds buzzing in around her head. It was all so unreal.

Draeka slowly moved a hand up from her side and staring at it, she realized she was melting. Her fingers slowly started to droop and blow away in the strong wind, followed by her hand. She felt she should scream, but there was no fear; only calm. In the swirling about her, she knew she was the eye of the storm, she was safe.

She felt the colours swirl in and out of her body, travelling in her ear and leaving through the mouth, leaking out and quickly getting picked up by another gust. Suddenly, in a deafening silence, everything stopped. The buzzing of the colours swirling through her mind suddenly dropped to the back of her skull, the pinks and oranges and blues swirling into a tiny reservoir in her skull.

Kali Goes to the Auction House

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Kali grinned as she fell to her knees on the hard dirt floor of the Orgrimmar auction house. In front of her stood her lover, speaking with one of the auctioneers about listing some of his enchantment materials. She lifted the heavy bottom to his robe, and quickly snuck her body underneath. Her lover shifted above her, uncomfortable, as she began nuzzling his right thigh.

The auction house was crammed with people, but all were too distracted to have noticed the orc warrior slip beneath the warlock’s robe. She could hear someone, obviously a troll, begin yelling at the auctioneer, before stomping away, and numerous taurens running in and out.

Kali’s New Fury

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Kali woke up with a start at a loud banging. She reached to her side and grabbed the handle of her axe before hearing the now familiar whimper of the demon wench’s last attempt at breath.

Sighing, Kali rolled onto her side, still clutching her blade, as she tried to find sleep once more. She had been sleeping somewhat restlessly since coming back to familiar faces. She had seen Lae, and that troll she insisted on tugging along everywhere, earlier in the morning. They looked so blissful, and caused her to feel warm emotions she had long since forgotten. When once she only wanted to protect her, now Kali wanted to hurt the little girl for forcing her to remember. She wanted Lae to feel the rage, and the power, that Grot had made her feel. She wanted to have a friend, someone to talk to. Grot had been so distant, so upset lately. She didn’t feel as though she could talk to him about anything but the killing.

Bare Chested

December 16, 2012 / M. Keep / No comments

Kali sighted him from across the river. Grot was mounted atop Draug, his worg, and was, oddly, without a shirt. She stared in surprise. She was used to his naked visage, but that was in private. But here he was on the edge of Westfall atop his worg, bare-chested.

Grinning to herself she watched as he dismounted and dove into the river. His rippling back would bob up above the surface of the water periodically as he swam towards her. Finally he rose up onto the shore and stepped to her, wrapping his arms about her, pouring water down around her plated armour.

The two orcish lovers kissed deeply, and Kali’s hands wandered across his wet muscles. Finally breaking apart, he grinned at her as she spoke, “My… your topless!”

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