Beckyann Short Number 24

She always hated Elwynn Forest. Maybe it was the way the trees grew so closely together, or perhaps it was the fact that the brothel houses of Goldshire always attracted the worst dregs of humanity and every other race of the Alliance, but Beckyann always found herself cringing when she had to go anywhere within the confines of the trees.

It was not like the forests of Lordaeron where she had once lived. She took no joy in escaping the crowds of people within the city of Stormwind, and she felt as if nature itself abhorred her whenever she walked beneath the branches of the trees far above. Squirrels would stop their chatter at her passing, and birds would call in alarm, but nevertheless she pressed on.

It had taken her several minutes to walk down the narrow path through the forest towards the neglected cemetery deep beneath the trees. Normally she would not visit such a place, but on this particular occasion Beckyann had a specific objective in mind rather than her normal hobby of visiting graves. There were several supplies that she was low on which would be needed to further some of her research, and the plant known as gravemoss was amongst them. The cemetery within the city's confines was carefully tended, and such plants were not allowed to grow on or around the stones there. It was only here, within the quiet forest with its neglected resting places that she would locate some.

Dressed as a common woman of Stormwind and wearing her darkly tinted glasses, Beckyann might have looked like a living person as she strolled along the forest path. Her dress was black, matching her painted lips and nails but beside her rather morbid fascination with dark colors one might be able to mistake her for a mourner heading towards the small cemetery at the end of the path. As she proceeded on her way, voices filtered through the foliage, the sound interrupting Beckyann's quiet thoughts.

“This is all you've got? Ain't no way you gave us all of it!” a gruff voice said.

“I say we just kill all of em and throw em in the lake. S'not like it don't happen all the time anyways,” another voice replied.

“Bah, let's make some use out of em before we do that. No sense in having wasted all this time if we ain't gonna get some first.” a third said. This was followed by some rough laughter from what sounded to be quite the gathering of men.

Curious despite herself, Beckyann turned from the path, her boots making little sound as she pushed into the dense underbrush. Within a moment or two she had come upon a clearing where a dozen men dressed in rough leathers had surrounded several women. It took Beckyann only a moment to understand that they were likely prostitutes or some other undesirables from the nearby town of Goldshire given their distinct lack of appropriate attire. Clearly the men had picked some of the local women up with the promise of coin, taken them into the forest and then decided to rob them. It appeared they would likely now also be raped and killed.

It was none of the death knight's business. And yet...

Why do I feel sorry for them? Is it because they likely are too poor to do anything more with their lives than this? Or maybe it's because they are too weak to defend themselves, as I once was. I was once powerless and captive myself. No one stood by me. There was no one strong enough or brave enough. The world is not full of heroes and happy endings and fairy tales, but death and hardship and misery.

The thought rankled for some reason, and without really understanding her own emotions, Beckyann found herself stepping into the clearing. She cleared her throat, and twelve pairs of eyes looked up and over at her.

“Well well, what do we have here?” one of the men said. He was slightly larger than the others, and a vicious scar passed from his forehead down his right cheek, likely the result of some knife-work. “And here I was thinking that we'd have to triple up, and then we get the gift of an extra. Looks like we'll only have to double up on em now boys.”

The men around him laughed as they began to circle around Beckyann. She ignored them, striding into the middle of the clearing and pausing, surveying the scene more closely. As she had suspected, the captive women were whores at best; they likely hadn't even been drugged to get them out into the woods. They were just trying to scrape a living from nothing.

“That will be enough gentlemen. This ends here,” Beckyann said, her tone cool.

The men laughed, and their leader stepped forward, coming within inches of Beckyann. He grinned as he leered at her, taking in her form beneath her dress and trying in vain to see past her glasses. “I don't think so lass. It's only just begun. Me and the lads are gonna have a bit of fun since there ain't enough coin here, and then this lot'll be dead. And you're gonna be with em, cause you decided to mind someone else's business.”

As he spoke, he stepped forward and roughly grabbed Beckyann's arm. His other hand came up and lewdly tore at the top of her dress, as if to undo it. For a moment, she played along, even pretending to breathe quickly. Her voice came out softly, hiding the echoing tone somewhat. It whispered in his ear as he bent closer, “You have one last chance to step away from me before you die in the most horrific manner you can possibly imagine.”

The man barked out another laugh, a hand actually coming up to caress the front of her dress as he grabbed Beckyann by the waist. He leaned forward, whispering back, “You ain't nothin but a woman honey. You talk a nice talk, but that's all you are. Ain't nothing you can do bout it. You shoulda learned your place before you came into our forest. We'll get that spunk out of you before we cut ya though lass.”

With that, he leaned forward, intending to lick Beckyann's neck against her will. With almost a grin of delight, she tilted her head, as if he had overpowered her. As he leaned in, she leaned towards him, her teeth coming down on his neck. Her jaws opened quite wide as she jammed his flesh into her mouth, tearing a huge chunk out of it. A normal person likely would have choked, but she didn't need to breathe so it didn't matter.

The man screamed, pinwheeling away as blood gushed from him. Beckyann merely smirked, spitting the chunk of flesh from her mouth and watching him closely. The flesh around the wound she'd made had already started to blacken, disease setting in as the plagues that constantly afflicted her ran through his bloodstream. Still screaming, he fell weakly to the forest floor. She casually walked up to him and crushed his windpipe with her boot, silencing his cries.

Everyone else was completely still as Beckyann looked at them, a smile on her bloody lips. Even the whores had grown silent, no longer struggling, their eyes wide with fear. Casually, Beckyann reached up, pushing her glasses up on her head, her baleful eyes taking in the men and filling them with terror.

“Let this be a lesson to you girls,” Beckyann said silkily. “Never assume that you are stronger than someone else, or that someone else is inferior to you simply because of their birth. This man's hubris, his unyielding pride was his downfall, as it will be for all of the rest of these men. You are better than this, stronger than this, or you can be. Consider this well in the days to come when the nightmares keep you awake in the darkness.”

With that she reached out, a tendril of necromantic magic snatching one of the men up and bringing him towards her. With a foul grin Beckyann struck him down with a howling gale of dark energy, his corpse falling and shattering on the now dead earth beneath his feet. The action caused the others to panic, and the whores began to scream.

And then the real killing began.

Hours later, Beckyann returned to the city, her pouch full of gravemoss and her lips a slightly darker shade of red than she normally colored them. She had a smile on her face and a spring in her step that indicated to any seeing her that she'd had a good day.