For a Cause

The battle was long since over and lost. Kerryann had known for some time that it wasn't going well; she could feel the life energies around her as they expired one by one, the soldiers of the Alliance falling in battle, their lifeblood seeping into the well saturated soil of Tol Barad, their potential wasted on a dark and wet little island that by now had to mean little to anyone given the amount of destruction it had lead to.

The thought played through her mind as she leaned against one of the crumbling old walls of the Ironclad Garrison, her back pressed against the cool stone as she made herself as small as possible in the coming shadows of night. Trapped behind enemy lines, she didn't want to give away her position by allowing her silhouette to show around the corner of the structure.

The death knight was dressed in her combat armor, which consisted of a few scant pieces of interlocking black plate parts that did little to cover her flesh, exposing much of her upper torso to the coming night. With a skirt made of interlocking pieces of thin metal sheets, she was able to move rapidly and comfortably even if it did make her look something like a cultist. Her appearance meant little in the grand scheme of her designs though; all that mattered was that several pieces of thick metal covered her heart and her throat. Her magic would take care of the rest of her defenses.

She moved cautiously, careful not to let the metal covering her lower half jingle as she slipped along the edge of the garrison. When she reached the edge of the wall near an opening, she again paused and pressed herself against the old stones. She could almost feel the decades of misery that the island had endured as a prison and now as a warzone. It sent a shiver up her back; an interesting reaction for her and something she would examine later. For now, she had business to attend to, namely escaping from the Horde occupied island before someone found her.

She peeked around the corner and nearly hissed as her glowing blue eyes took in the shape of three Forsaken standing in the garrison's courtyard. They stood talking amongst themselves, one of them clearly a Deathstalker with his leather harness and assortment of blades and daggers, the others giving off enough hints of fel magic to make Kerryann suspect they were warlocks or dark spellcasters. She watched them closely, an odd sensation slowly flowing through her body, making her shake as she began to feel truly warm for once.

It was hate.

She hated them. She hated them more than anything in all the world. They were like her in their own way, corrupt with scourge magic and surviving through the efforts of necromancy, but there the similarity ended, at least to Kerryann's mind. They were imperfect things, foul and disgusting. They were rotting, unclean and impure corpses that had no business walking around. Creatures that believed they and they alone should wield the powers of undeath, enslaving others in unlife and shackling them to the will of the Banshee Queen.

She almost stepped around the corner to strike them down, despite the fact that an alarm would surely be sounded and she'd be hunted down and killed. Almost. She managed to restrain herself enough to slink back around the corner, taking deep breaths to steady herself. She could actually feel her pulse beneath her skin; an unusual sensation and one that she rarely felt unless she was moved to extreme emotion. Even battle didn't do this to her.

They don't deserve to live, if that can be called life. They should be exterminated. How dare they block my path? How dare they show what they call their faces here? The dead do not control territory, they lie beneath it. The Forsaken should have no lands but the cemetery, where they rest eternally.

And so her thoughts spiraled. They were irrational she knew, but they continued. She'd had this reaction ever since she first learned necromancy. Ever since the fateful days when she first became aware of the Cult of the Damned. She'd hunted and killed so many undead abominations that they all blended together now; there was no difference to her what they called themselves.

They all stood in her way, obstacles in her mastery of the art of necromancy. Her rivals under their so-called Queen.

Now was not the time though. She couldn't indulge herself in slaughter. She had to escape. The Alliance had failed in battle, and she would not join the list of the dead, not after all she'd done to keep herself alive for all the long years after the fall of Lordaeron. Not after all she'd come to be.

Her thoughts were interrupted by extreme pressure against her back. Instinctively she leaned forward and away as a dagger was pushed towards the seemingly unprotected, soft flesh of her bare back. As it had the first time, the weapon was repelled by the dark spells she laced over her body, her flesh hardening to the thickness of stone, small little crystals of ice glittering on her bare flesh. She grinned and whirled around, the plate metal strapped to her wrist and back of her hand connecting squarely with the jaw of the blood elf assassin that had tried to stab her.

The elf staggered back, slamming into the wall of the garrison with a grunt. Unnaturally quick, Kerryann lurched forward, her runeblade jabbing forward and penetrating the elf's abdomen as her free hand clamped down over his mouth before he could utter another sound.

Blood spurted from the wound, splashing on the dark soil of the island as the elf squirmed on the blade that pinned him to the wall. Kerryann's baleful eyes locked with her would-be killer's as his life slowly ebbed away. She could feel his body temperature dropping as the frost fever that was always inside her slowly claimed him, goosebumps forming on his flesh quickly turning to frostbitten black skin.

As his life came to an end, he struggled to speak something and Kerryann pressed herself close against him, her hand still over his mouth. She whispered into one of his long ears, "Shhhhhhh. Hush now and go. I will see to it that they can't raise you."

She watched his life fade from his eyes, the moment always a curiosity to her. When the last of the fel green glow had fled, she slowly retracted her sword and lowered him silently to the ground, peering around to see if anyone had heard the commotion. For the time being, the area was clear of foes. She knew it wouldn't last long though, the scout would be missed. With a small sigh of frustration she drew her runeblade up plunged it down, removing the head from the corpse at her feet. The blade plunged down a second time, piercing its heart and destroying it.

"Unless they are quite skilled you should rest easily now my enemy," she whispered as she cleaned off her blade. The runes on it glittered with a deadly light as they soaked up the lifeblood. "Don't worry about being lonely, many more will join you before too much longer. I grow tired of even having to think about your vile little allies. You will not be the last."

She paused, looking down at her blade and shaking her head. She was talking to a corpse. Again.

"You really need to get some friends Ker," she muttered. "Either that or just shut the fel up."

Sighing again, she withdrew from the area where the elf had fallen. The scent of the body would likely draw enemies before too long, and she planned to be long gone before they started hunting for the scout's killer. It wouldn't do to be caught after all, not now. Not when she'd finally come to realize that all of the fighting here was fruitless as long as her enemies could keep raising more unliving soldiers back in the territories they'd already conquered. It was time to find some allies and do something about this. The Forsaken were just as bad as the Cult of the Damned and it was well past time that others saw this. If no one else would talk about it, then it would be up to her.

Besides, when did the fact that people didn't want to hear what she had to say ever stop her before?

With a grin the death knight slipped away from the edge of the wall, disappearing into the mists that shrouded the island, another ghost fading from sight.