Kelysia the Vengeful

*Several months ago in the Western Plaguelands*

She knew she shouldn't have come back. She should have just stayed in Northrend. The thought repeated itself over and over in Kerryann's mind as she stumbled and fell against a stack of crates. The pain in her side was bad, but not as bad as the pain she normally felt from holding her runeblade; she'd be able to continue on after resting a moment.

It had all gone downhill when she decided to return to Stormwind. Of course she'd had to go to Archerus first, and naturally they had told her that she HAD to report in to several of the Ebon Knights stationed in the plaguelands before she passed through the region. It was literally the last time she was ever going to listen to any of the Knights. They were, as far as she was concerned, a bunch of fools.

And now they'd gotten her stabbed. She grimaced at the thought, reaching around her side to feel the puckered flesh where the dagger had plunged in. Likely it had been poisoned or coated with blight since it was a Forsaken that had wielded it, but it didn't really matter much to the death knight; her unique body would handle the toxins in its own way. It would just hurt a bit, like everything else in her life.

Kerryann shook her head and pushed herself off the crates she was leaning on. She had to move before more Forsaken arrived and found the bodies she'd left carelessly strewn around the perimeter of the camp. It was bad enough that the Forsaken had blocked off the road, but now she'd have to navigate their little checkpoint and skirt around Andorhal to get back to Alliance held territory. With a wound. In the dark night in the plaguelands.

Fantastic.

Even as she thought it, her necromantically-tainted eyes caught movement near some of the tents ahead of her; Forsaken with weapons drawn had fanned out, searching the camp. They must have discovered the dead and were hunting for intruders.

Even more fantastic.

Without pausing to think, Kerryann ducked into a nearby tent, closing the flap behind her to prevent the searchers from locating her. In the cool darkness of the interior, she made out a number of wooden frames that clearly were normally used to hold prisoners, likely while they were being tortured. In the far recesses of the tent were more stacked crates and an odd bundle lying on the floor. With nothing better to do, Kerryann stiffly walked over towards the bundle to examine it.

As she drew nearer, she could tell it was a burlap tarp laid over something. She reached down and yanked the tarp back, almost gasping in surprise as she saw the nearly-naked form of a draenei lying on the dirt floor of the tent. The creature was shackled, looked like it had been beaten to death, and had a burlap sack over its head.

"These filthy little bastards.." Kerryann muttered. She leaned down to take a closer look at the likely dead creature.

To Kerryann's everlasting amazement, the draenei sprang into action the second her head had come within striking range. Long arms unfolded beneath the draenei, launching her up and back. Chains rattled as the supposedly hobbled creature lashed out, wrapping them firmly around Kerryann's neck and yanking her forward. Before the death knight even realized what was happening, she'd been spun around and the chains were pulled taught, the pressure on her neck almost enough to collapse her windpipe.

Although only partially alive, Kerryann still had a pulse and she felt her vision dimming as the pressure increased. A voice whispered in her ear, "Time to die Forsaken. Don't worry, you won't be alone. I'm going to kill all of you, and then find your undead families and kill them too. And then I'll burn your homes down, just to be certain."

Kerryann clawed at the chains, managing to gasp out a few short words before she could no longer draw breath. "Not....forsaken....idiot....."

There was a momentary pause in the pressure and then Kerryann felt herself hurled forward to slam into and fall amongst a pile of crates. When she finally managed to pick herself up, she turned to find the draenei casually snapping off the last of the poorly constructed fetters that had held her. Without the burlap sack over her head, the creature looked a lot more alive, and a lot more pissed off, than Kerryann had first thought.

"You certainly fucking look like one," the draenei snapped as she noticed the human looking at her. "You're lucky I didn't snap your neck in half. What kind of idiot walks around a Forsaken war camp looking like a Forsaken anyway?"

"I'm not 'walking' around the camp," Kerryann snapped back. "I was trying to get AROUND it. And shut the fel up, there's Forsaken searching the area for me, I killed a few of their sentries."

The draenei paused again, as if appraising the human. After a moment she nodded and grinned, "Good. That's less I have to kill then."

Kerryann rolled her eyes, "Yeah. You. The naked, beat up, recently freed prisoner is going to take out an entire camp of Forsaken by yourself. With your bare fists."

The draenei merely smiled, her fanged teeth looking menacing in the darkness of the tent. "I'm not a prisoner anymore, and they're going to die. What's your name anyway? If they kill you, I should probably tell someone who rescued me."

Still looking at the creature in amazement, Kerryann blinked and said, "The name's Kerryann Westdale. There's no point in remembering it though, no one will give a rat's ass if I die here. There's no one to tell."

"Ah, well things are tough all over aren't they? You going to stand there bleeding from that nice wound you got or are you going to help me? The name's Kelysia by the way," was the response.

"Um, did you hear me when I said there's patrols looking for me or did they do something to your ears?" Kerryann replied. "We'll wait here until things settle and slip out."

The draenei snorted, rubbing her writs to regain circulation. She stretched, cracking her shoulders and back and looking the human over again. "Whatever. I'm here to make dead things that are walking around dead again. You're lucky I felt the pulse in your neck or you'd be joining them. I'm out of here."

With that, wearing nothing but the scant rags she'd been imprisoned in, Kelysia stepped through the tent flap and was gone. Kerryann just stared after her in amazement. Seconds later shouts could be heard as the patrols spotted the draenei. Kerryann could hear them clearly through the thin walls of the tent as they hunted her.

"She's over here! I'll get her!"
"By the Banshee Queen! She got his sword! She got his sw-"
"Fall back! Fall back! We need to regro-"
"What the fel is wrong with that thing? She just bit me! I-"

The shouts were punctuated by the sounds of metal striking metal and thuds as bodies collided with each other and then the ground. A small, wet object bounced through the tent flap and came to rest at Kerryann's feet; the severed head of a Forsaken guard. Kelysia poked her head back in a moment later, her blue skin spattered with gore and goo from the dead patrol, "You comin' or what? Or maybe you just want to sit in there and cry about that scratch you've got?"

The draenei emphasized her words by waving around a sword that she'd somehow managed to obtain. It glittered with Holy Light, giving Kerryann a good idea of what kind of draenei she was dealing with. She drew her runeblade and walked forward stiffly, "Fine. But we cut our way out and leave. I don't have time for this crap."

Kelysia grinned wickedly and shook her head. "No, they all die. You're going to slow me down like that. Hold still." With that she reached out and slapped a hand against Kerryann's wound. Holy light flared, the magic a searing agony to the partially undead flesh of the death knight. She howled as the draenei applied more magic, sealing closed the dagger hole and leaving a trail of smoke in the air around Kerryann.

"What the FEL is wrong with you?!" Kerryann demanded.

Kelysia just smirked and then slipped back out of the tent. A second later there was a roar followed by several more shouts and the sounds of steel hitting steel again. With a resigned sigh, Kerryann parted the tent flap with her runeblade and ran out after the insane creature.

Two hours later, the two made their way out of the plaguelands, a burning camp behind them. The draenei, now wearing an assortment of borrowed armor she'd taken from the fallen, glittered with the remnants of holy light and had a satisfied look on her face. She was a good contrast to the somber death knight that walked beside her, a sour pout on her face.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or something like that.