Hillsbrad was gloomy now
in the evening. There were few animal sounds since the Forsaken had
moved with their military forces and begun spreading blight across the
landscape. Even so, some of nature persevered and Kerryann could make
out the sounds of crickets in the bushes nearby, as well as a few
distant rustlings that might have been small nocturnal animals going
about their business.
Other than those slight noises, everything was still and silent as death, and Kerryann became a part of that noiseless nothing of the dark. Her eyes, long since contaminated by her constant use of necromancy, had little trouble peering into the dim light of the stars. Her unnatural vision illuminated everything she saw with an eerie scourge-light, allowing her to see even in pitch black; a rare positive benefit of her condition.
Currently she had little reason to worry about seeing though as she made her way through Tarren Mill. Once a simple town that had been wiped out by the scourge, and later a hotbed of fighting between the Horde and Alliance, it was now a fortified, walled town that represented the power that the Forsaken were steadily growing in the region. Patrolled by guards, the town was difficult to approach and it had taken the death knight almost two hours to circumvent their security and slip within the walls.
She had made her way down the back alleys that connected the buildings, hiding amongst crates and other materials left out until she could get close enough to one of the larger buildings. Using a knife, she pried open a window and slipped inside, her eyes instantly adjusting to the torchlight within. She had only a few minutes at best before someone detected her presence, so she had to get her task done quickly.
She hurried over to what appeared to be the desk of some official of the town and began going through the paperwork there, looking for signs of her prey, for a clue as to where the Forsaken cultist might have gone. She knew he'd come this way; she'd stumbled upon a lucky break in the form of a dwarven patrol that had seen several cultists trying to slip through the passes of Dun Morogh, headed towards Hillsbrad. Although the cultists hadn't been caught, it was clear where the trail was leading.
With a low growl of frustration, Kerryann dug through the seemingly endless pile of paper, searching for any hint that the cultist had been seen by Deathguard patrols. She paused as her eyes came across a report of a skirmish with several Forsaken that had disobeyed orders along the road and slain a few of the local Deathguard.
"Ahhhhh, I've found you now," she purred, tucking the report into a pouch. She turned to leave when something caught her eye. Her hands reached down, and scooped up another letter from the desk:
"Captain,
Your progress on repairing the outer most watchtower is not acceptable. Without better fortifications in the area, the worgen will continue to slip past our patrols. I have already sent the supplies you requested, but am not seeing results. I will be coming to personally attend to the matter in two weeks. I had better see signs that the tower will be complete by then, or you will be replaced with someone more competent.
~S.C."
The letter dropped from Kerryann's suddenly nerveless fingers. She'd seen that writing before, but not for a very long time. The writing shouldn't exist, let alone amongst Forsaken correspondence in their occupied territory. Unbidden memories flashed through Kerryann's mind of the times she'd seen such script before, and the man whose hand it was that wrote the words.
************************************************
A teenage Kerryann was dressed in an apprentice's robes and sitting on her bed in her quarters in Dalaran. A smile lit her face as she held a carefully penned missive, reading slowly:
My Darling Kerryann,
It was so wonderful to see you again last night. Every time we are apart it feels like an eternity to me. I know you are busy with your studies, but my heart bids me to encourage you to slip away and join myself and the others again this weekend. I don't think I could imagine being away from you for longer than that, and we have so many things to discuss!
I've taken the liberty of securing some of Dalaran's famed red wine for our next meeting, and I've also got another of the spellbooks you liked. The others have been passing them around and asked me to give you a copy. It is, of course, just between us my sweet.
Until we meet again, my heart will have to bear up against the strain of being apart from you. I will think fondly of you.
~Sebastian Coallar
*************************************************
The stars glowed brightly in the sky as they lay next to one another, looking up at the heavens above, his arms around her and his cloak keeping her warm. As she snuggled against him, they watched the night's beauty flow past overhead, the cold crypt beneath their backs nothing more than a place to rest. In the distance, laughter and even the sound of a lute could be heard as some of the others continued their party amongst the tombs and crypts of Sorrow Hill, their merrymaking likely to go on throughout the night.
"It's beautiful here," Kerryann said, still looking up at the sky. Next to her, Sebastian turned and smiled, his eyes studying her as she studied the sky.
"Only because you're here with me, my gem," he whispered to her. She laughed, snuggling closer as he held her tight, the two simply enjoying the moment of each other's company.
***************************************************
She was a little drunk. The wine had been good, as it always was. He always knew where to find the best that Dalaran had to offer. She weaved amongst the caskets and broken old memorials deep within the crypt, the torchlight throwing weird shadows on the walls as her uncertain footsteps lead her around them. Throughout the crypt the sounds of her friends laughing, joking, and playing games echoed as the little coven of nobles gathered in their weekly spot amongst the resting place of the dead.
Some might think it morbid, but the group had become accustomed to gathering amongst the final resting places of the dead. Sorrow Hill was their place to meet, their escape from the confines of Dalaran and the pressures of nobility and responsibility, and they made every effort to live it up as much as possible.
Kerryann paused as she found Sebastien sitting on a tomb, a book propped open on his lap. He looked up at her and smiled as she weaved towards him, the wine bottle loosely dangling from her hands. In the light of the torch, it was clear the red wine had stained her lips, and she looked like she'd bitten someone bloody. It made him laugh.
"There's my little ghoul now," he joked. She grinned at him, leaning over the book on his lap to give him a red, wine-flavored kiss.
"Best be careful," she said in mock menace. "I might bite you."
"Oh, I think that I could handle it," he smirked as she climbed onto the tomb and wrapped her arms around him. The wine bottle tumbled to the floor, the red liquid splashing on the stones and leaking out.
**********************************************
The crowd of nobles clapped, the sound echoing from the deep, vaulted ceilings of the crypt. Kerryann stood in the middle of them, her face a mask of concentration as she bent necromantic energy to her will, making the skeleton of a mouse sit up and begin to move around. The others cheered as she made it jump, a puppet to her will.
"You're doing so well beloved!" Sebastien encouraged from nearby. "You'll be the strongest of us yet!"
Kerryann grinned and blushed, enjoying the attention he gave her whenever she studied the magical tomes he provided, whenever she succeeded. They'd been doing it for months now, and she'd taken to studying secretly so that she could further impress him, so that she could be better than the other girls and always catch his eye. Her nobleman, her beloved.
***********************************************
Her eyes were wide as the others wailed at her, shouting accusations and curses her way. All of the words bounced off her, meant nothing to her though as her entire world was enveloped in the burning, unending, unbearable agony shooting through her arm.
On the ground before her was a corpse; the corpse of the 'patron' that the group had come to obey. The creature that had been egging them on, giving them necromantic texts, encouraging them to delve deeper into the darkness. Guiding them towards what would later be called the Cult of the Damned. The creature that had held a runeblade in its hand.
The runeblade that she took from it's body after cutting it down with her dueling swords.
"How could you Kerry?! How could you do such a thing?" Sebastian's voice echoed from the crypt. "He was our master! He could have shown us so much more! You've ruined everything!"
The shouts were echoed by the others, the damning words quickly followed by the sound of steel being drawn as they rushed towards her, already slaves to the Cult. Already enemies to the innocent people of a Lordaeron that even now was dying of plague. They would cut her down if she let them.
But she held the runeblade now.
She lashed out and they fell before her, unable to withstand the magic she'd studied so much more carefully than them. Unable to stand before her training with the sword. Her blade surged forward, impaling an enemy in front of her.
Sebastian.
She watched the expression on his face change from rage to shock as the deadly cold runeblade slid through his gut. She watched him grasp at it, as he slowly fell to the floor of the crypt, and in that moment, her heart hardened to stone.
"H-how c-could you...?" his voice came up to her weakly. Behind them the wails of those she'd mortally wounded mixed with the crying sobs of fools who had chosen to damn themselves and were too weak to even fight her now.
"Because I can. Because I am not a slave to the darkness like you would have me be. Because finally, I can see what you were trying to do to me," She whispered. She looked at him one last time and then turned to walk out of the crypt.
"I r-really did love you...even still....."
The words burned in her mind, but she kept walking, leaving him to die alone in the dark, where he belonged.
*****************************************
She snapped back into reality, her hands shaking. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was, and then slowly it dawned on her that she was still in Tarren Mill, in the middle of enemy territory. Even so, she couldn't move for a moment, strange emotions rushing through her; things she hadn't felt in forever.
A hand reached up and brushed at her face, her mind surprised to find tears there.
"I don't have TIME for this bullshit!" she snarled. In a huff she whirled, drawing her runeblade and bringing it down hard. The letter that had triggered the memories was carved in half, followed quickly by the desk. Kerryann let the rage build in her, the anger at what had happened, at what she'd let him do and what she'd done to herself, building inside of her.
Her eyes blazed with scourge light and narrowed to slits. Someone would pay. Someone would pay for the way she felt at that moment.
*******************************************
Hours later, the alarms in Tarren Mill would finally fall silent as the mysterious attacker retreated. The Deathguards on duty would report that they had been attacked by an enraged scourge creature, never realizing how close to the truth that assessment was.
Other than those slight noises, everything was still and silent as death, and Kerryann became a part of that noiseless nothing of the dark. Her eyes, long since contaminated by her constant use of necromancy, had little trouble peering into the dim light of the stars. Her unnatural vision illuminated everything she saw with an eerie scourge-light, allowing her to see even in pitch black; a rare positive benefit of her condition.
Currently she had little reason to worry about seeing though as she made her way through Tarren Mill. Once a simple town that had been wiped out by the scourge, and later a hotbed of fighting between the Horde and Alliance, it was now a fortified, walled town that represented the power that the Forsaken were steadily growing in the region. Patrolled by guards, the town was difficult to approach and it had taken the death knight almost two hours to circumvent their security and slip within the walls.
She had made her way down the back alleys that connected the buildings, hiding amongst crates and other materials left out until she could get close enough to one of the larger buildings. Using a knife, she pried open a window and slipped inside, her eyes instantly adjusting to the torchlight within. She had only a few minutes at best before someone detected her presence, so she had to get her task done quickly.
She hurried over to what appeared to be the desk of some official of the town and began going through the paperwork there, looking for signs of her prey, for a clue as to where the Forsaken cultist might have gone. She knew he'd come this way; she'd stumbled upon a lucky break in the form of a dwarven patrol that had seen several cultists trying to slip through the passes of Dun Morogh, headed towards Hillsbrad. Although the cultists hadn't been caught, it was clear where the trail was leading.
With a low growl of frustration, Kerryann dug through the seemingly endless pile of paper, searching for any hint that the cultist had been seen by Deathguard patrols. She paused as her eyes came across a report of a skirmish with several Forsaken that had disobeyed orders along the road and slain a few of the local Deathguard.
"Ahhhhh, I've found you now," she purred, tucking the report into a pouch. She turned to leave when something caught her eye. Her hands reached down, and scooped up another letter from the desk:
"Captain,
Your progress on repairing the outer most watchtower is not acceptable. Without better fortifications in the area, the worgen will continue to slip past our patrols. I have already sent the supplies you requested, but am not seeing results. I will be coming to personally attend to the matter in two weeks. I had better see signs that the tower will be complete by then, or you will be replaced with someone more competent.
~S.C."
The letter dropped from Kerryann's suddenly nerveless fingers. She'd seen that writing before, but not for a very long time. The writing shouldn't exist, let alone amongst Forsaken correspondence in their occupied territory. Unbidden memories flashed through Kerryann's mind of the times she'd seen such script before, and the man whose hand it was that wrote the words.
************************************************
A teenage Kerryann was dressed in an apprentice's robes and sitting on her bed in her quarters in Dalaran. A smile lit her face as she held a carefully penned missive, reading slowly:
My Darling Kerryann,
It was so wonderful to see you again last night. Every time we are apart it feels like an eternity to me. I know you are busy with your studies, but my heart bids me to encourage you to slip away and join myself and the others again this weekend. I don't think I could imagine being away from you for longer than that, and we have so many things to discuss!
I've taken the liberty of securing some of Dalaran's famed red wine for our next meeting, and I've also got another of the spellbooks you liked. The others have been passing them around and asked me to give you a copy. It is, of course, just between us my sweet.
Until we meet again, my heart will have to bear up against the strain of being apart from you. I will think fondly of you.
~Sebastian Coallar
*************************************************
The stars glowed brightly in the sky as they lay next to one another, looking up at the heavens above, his arms around her and his cloak keeping her warm. As she snuggled against him, they watched the night's beauty flow past overhead, the cold crypt beneath their backs nothing more than a place to rest. In the distance, laughter and even the sound of a lute could be heard as some of the others continued their party amongst the tombs and crypts of Sorrow Hill, their merrymaking likely to go on throughout the night.
"It's beautiful here," Kerryann said, still looking up at the sky. Next to her, Sebastian turned and smiled, his eyes studying her as she studied the sky.
"Only because you're here with me, my gem," he whispered to her. She laughed, snuggling closer as he held her tight, the two simply enjoying the moment of each other's company.
***************************************************
She was a little drunk. The wine had been good, as it always was. He always knew where to find the best that Dalaran had to offer. She weaved amongst the caskets and broken old memorials deep within the crypt, the torchlight throwing weird shadows on the walls as her uncertain footsteps lead her around them. Throughout the crypt the sounds of her friends laughing, joking, and playing games echoed as the little coven of nobles gathered in their weekly spot amongst the resting place of the dead.
Some might think it morbid, but the group had become accustomed to gathering amongst the final resting places of the dead. Sorrow Hill was their place to meet, their escape from the confines of Dalaran and the pressures of nobility and responsibility, and they made every effort to live it up as much as possible.
Kerryann paused as she found Sebastien sitting on a tomb, a book propped open on his lap. He looked up at her and smiled as she weaved towards him, the wine bottle loosely dangling from her hands. In the light of the torch, it was clear the red wine had stained her lips, and she looked like she'd bitten someone bloody. It made him laugh.
"There's my little ghoul now," he joked. She grinned at him, leaning over the book on his lap to give him a red, wine-flavored kiss.
"Best be careful," she said in mock menace. "I might bite you."
"Oh, I think that I could handle it," he smirked as she climbed onto the tomb and wrapped her arms around him. The wine bottle tumbled to the floor, the red liquid splashing on the stones and leaking out.
**********************************************
The crowd of nobles clapped, the sound echoing from the deep, vaulted ceilings of the crypt. Kerryann stood in the middle of them, her face a mask of concentration as she bent necromantic energy to her will, making the skeleton of a mouse sit up and begin to move around. The others cheered as she made it jump, a puppet to her will.
"You're doing so well beloved!" Sebastien encouraged from nearby. "You'll be the strongest of us yet!"
Kerryann grinned and blushed, enjoying the attention he gave her whenever she studied the magical tomes he provided, whenever she succeeded. They'd been doing it for months now, and she'd taken to studying secretly so that she could further impress him, so that she could be better than the other girls and always catch his eye. Her nobleman, her beloved.
***********************************************
Her eyes were wide as the others wailed at her, shouting accusations and curses her way. All of the words bounced off her, meant nothing to her though as her entire world was enveloped in the burning, unending, unbearable agony shooting through her arm.
On the ground before her was a corpse; the corpse of the 'patron' that the group had come to obey. The creature that had been egging them on, giving them necromantic texts, encouraging them to delve deeper into the darkness. Guiding them towards what would later be called the Cult of the Damned. The creature that had held a runeblade in its hand.
The runeblade that she took from it's body after cutting it down with her dueling swords.
"How could you Kerry?! How could you do such a thing?" Sebastian's voice echoed from the crypt. "He was our master! He could have shown us so much more! You've ruined everything!"
The shouts were echoed by the others, the damning words quickly followed by the sound of steel being drawn as they rushed towards her, already slaves to the Cult. Already enemies to the innocent people of a Lordaeron that even now was dying of plague. They would cut her down if she let them.
But she held the runeblade now.
She lashed out and they fell before her, unable to withstand the magic she'd studied so much more carefully than them. Unable to stand before her training with the sword. Her blade surged forward, impaling an enemy in front of her.
Sebastian.
She watched the expression on his face change from rage to shock as the deadly cold runeblade slid through his gut. She watched him grasp at it, as he slowly fell to the floor of the crypt, and in that moment, her heart hardened to stone.
"H-how c-could you...?" his voice came up to her weakly. Behind them the wails of those she'd mortally wounded mixed with the crying sobs of fools who had chosen to damn themselves and were too weak to even fight her now.
"Because I can. Because I am not a slave to the darkness like you would have me be. Because finally, I can see what you were trying to do to me," She whispered. She looked at him one last time and then turned to walk out of the crypt.
"I r-really did love you...even still....."
The words burned in her mind, but she kept walking, leaving him to die alone in the dark, where he belonged.
*****************************************
She snapped back into reality, her hands shaking. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was, and then slowly it dawned on her that she was still in Tarren Mill, in the middle of enemy territory. Even so, she couldn't move for a moment, strange emotions rushing through her; things she hadn't felt in forever.
A hand reached up and brushed at her face, her mind surprised to find tears there.
"I don't have TIME for this bullshit!" she snarled. In a huff she whirled, drawing her runeblade and bringing it down hard. The letter that had triggered the memories was carved in half, followed quickly by the desk. Kerryann let the rage build in her, the anger at what had happened, at what she'd let him do and what she'd done to herself, building inside of her.
Her eyes blazed with scourge light and narrowed to slits. Someone would pay. Someone would pay for the way she felt at that moment.
*******************************************
Hours later, the alarms in Tarren Mill would finally fall silent as the mysterious attacker retreated. The Deathguards on duty would report that they had been attacked by an enraged scourge creature, never realizing how close to the truth that assessment was.
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