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.

She could still faintly remember her life before the fury; reminders lay abundant in Azeroth. Sometimes when she is out in battle she comes across the small hut that had once been home to Lae and herself. A young laboring orc had now made it his home. He stands cutting wood as Kali remembers disturbing images of telling stories to Lae by the fire before bed. She remembers the warmth that she had felt for her young sister. Kali grunted and squirmed under the silken sheets that Grot had made when he was still learning to be a tailor. His skill in tailoring, as most every other skill he undertakes, has reached the highest potential. Every day he grows stronger and stronger as Kali struggles to keep up, to keep him satisfied.

His blood lust has reached an all time high, with him venturing into battle to commit torturous attacks on his foes at all hours. Kali was once the one to take so much pleasure in killing, but the monstrosities that Grot commits seem so dark, even to such a battle torn warrior as herself.

Kali tossed to the other side and she could hear Grot re-summoning the wench again. She rested her hands on her still flat stomach. She knew why Grot felt such rage, but she was still unable to give him what he desired. Every time she looks in his eyes all she sees is his pain. The love that was once there is now clouded in anger and resentment. She had failed him.


Kali smiled a frightening grin when she saw her sisters troll lover shift into shadow form and Lae’s bloodthirst took over. She stayed, always, in the shadows. Spending more and more time following the two about, studying the little changes in their behaviours before they adapted to their new way of life.

Kali had felt weak compared to her now mighty warlock lover, beating herself up for spending so much time exploring and killing those much weaker than herself instead of challenging herself to grow stronger, but at the sight of Lae and the troll called Jin’zal changing, she once again felt powerful. To control someone without their knowing, to have their personality change while she remains in the shadows, to have them abandon the ideals they once held so close, is to have power.

Indeed, the more out of power she felt of her own relationship, of her own body, the more she craved to control and hold power over others. Grot remained sullen and aloof, killing all those who cross him, no matter where their loyalties lay. Kali’s stomach remained smooth and without child, despite their trying. Even the thrill of battle wasn’t giving her the fulfillment it once did.

But to hold this power over her sister, to know they react to her presence, that was the power she required. Kali’s grin never faded. She knew her presence was felt.


Kali made sure Grot would live before she wandered out in the middle of the night. She had packed her backpack with all necessities, kissed Grot goodbye, and left. Her eyes were puffed up and red, her neck a hunter green, her hands bandaged at the knuckles, her breasts still tender. She wandered as in a trance from their home in Winterspring back to Orgrimmar, killing all in her path.

Finding herself in the small hut in Orgrimmar that she had earlier eavesdropped on Jin’zal proposing to Lae. She sat on the floor and closed her eyes.

She frowned. Her loyalty to Grot remained unhindered.

She remembered times past. She remembered who she was before Grot… changed her. She knew that this wasn’t to be stood for. That she should have left him to a painful, agonizing death for getting so much pleasure from night after night with that wench. Kali was a warrior, and this behaviour is not acceptable from a mate, let alone a lover, a childhood friend.

Kali was not experienced in the ways of love. All she ever had was Lae and Grot, and since Grot’s change, she felt useless. She could fight through enemies as though they were butter to her heated knife, but she remained powerless over her own will. She had enjoyed it, indeed, being unreserved and powerful. But she came home every night to a home that was not welcoming, to a lover’s arms that were coated in the blood of that wench. He took more pleasure in torturing her than he ever took pleasure in Kali’s loving arms.

And yet she remained loyal. Even as she felt his hands around her throat, she remained loyal. And she couldn’t understand why. She wasn’t a scholar. She didn’t understand what Grot preformed on her to make her this way, and she certainly didn’t understand her blind loyalty to the orc who hurt her so.

She quickly changed into the soft mageweave set that Grot so lovingly crafted for her, sat down against the wall, and pulled out her flask of mead that she brought with her from home. She drank them one after another until she fell into a sweet darkness.


Kali’s axe fell into the human’s head with a delicious ‘crack’ as he crumpled to the ground. Her hands glowed bright with her fury as her eyes searched for another to kill. She frowned with disappointment when she realized that she stood alone.

She dedicated much time now to killing all alliance that she could. Their blood coated her new leg pieces, and new scratches and deeper wounds were dug into her green skin. She felt none of it. All she could feel now was the rage and the tightening in her heart and her gut. She had needed to run to the auction house earlier in the day and had passed Grot. She quickly left before he could say a word.

She needed time. Her bruise was still fresh, and his eyes held no apology. And she remained loyal.

She knew that she would return to him, but she remained unsure of why. Her mind reeled with possibilities of why he turned on her. She flashed back to the coldness in his eyes as his hands wrapped around her throat.

And it dawned on her. She wasn’t being good enough for him. She had failed him, and she needed to please him. He had become upset because of her inability to please and the demons took hold of him and he couldn’t fight back. She grinned happily at this realization, knowing it was something that she could do better and once she made him happy she wouldn’t need to worry about it.

She quickly walked back to their home and waited on the bed for Grot to return. She remained ever loyal.

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