Beckyann rested on her bed, laying on
her belly and flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine she
had picked up during her last trip to Stormwind. Her feet kicked idly
in the air behind her, spacers made of the carved and polished bone
of some humanoid used to keep her toes apart while her pedicure
dried. It was one of the rare times when she had some downtime, and
she planned to enjoy it.
Naturally this was not to last, and her
solitude was soon interrupted by a pounding on her door. She rolled
her eyes in irritation as the pounding intensified, “Go away! I'm
not on duty! Find one of the officers if you need something!”
The pounding grew louder, with a
muffled, “Corporal! You are needed at once!” coming through the
wooden barrier.
Beckyann sighed, whispering a word of
magic and releasing the wards on the door. The result of this was
that the wooden barrier rapidly opened upon the next pounding,
leaving an initiate death knight to stumble into the room. His eyes
widened and he averted his gaze for a moment as he saw she was in her
underthings; it was an ingrained habit from when they were alive and
completely unnecessary in their state of undeath. It still made
Beckyann giggle a little.
“What is it? As you can see I am not
on duty. This had better be important,” she said with a hint of
threat in her tone.
“Corporal! Our sentries have spotted
a large group of rogue Scourge moving through the hills just south of
Eastwall tower! The lead elements of the group have already begun an
ambush on a small Argent caravan passing through the area!” the
initiate said.
Beckyann's eyes widened for a moment as
she realized that it was indeed grave news and the initiate would not
have come to her if one of the higher ranking officers was present.
She slid out of bed, mourning the loss of a perfectly good pedicure
for a moment before nodding and reaching for the armor that was
haphazardly piled in the corner of the room, “I'll be on the
observation deck in one minute. Get the scrying orb ready.”
It was the duty of the Ebon Blade to
support their allies and to eliminate rogue Scourge after all. Plus
it would be fun!
*************************
The
upper reaches of Acherus had a number of good vantage points where
sentries maintained eternal vigilance over the fortress of the Ebon
Blade. It was to one of these vantage points that Beckyann hurried,
her plate boots pounding on the dark stones. Ahead of her a blue,
glowing scrying orb sat ready to be used. Resembling a disembodied
spirit eye, the device allowed the Knights to look out over the
surrounding terrain to assess threats to their forces. Beckyann
wasted no time in reaching up to grasp at the orb.
Instantly
she felt it detach itself from the fortress, her vision joining with
it and flying freely out into the Plaguelands. The dead ground flew
below her as she sought out the enemies that the sentries had
spotted, her gaze drawn to a series of moving dots on the ground. As
it drew closer, she could make out the individual bodies of a group
of Scourge rushing through the low, dead foliage, intent on reaching
a larger mass of undead that had surrounded a small group of men and
women in bright armor.
Frowning,
Beckyann brought the image closer, picking out the details on the
group. There were five wagons and a number of men and women on
horseback. About ten footmen walked beside the wagons, spears and
swords in hand as they fended off the lighter scourge monsters. As
Beckyann drew closer still, her eyes took in the emblems of the
Argent Crusade on the banners that several of the men held and the
barding of the horses. Scanning over the group of men, her eyes
encountered a banner that sent a jolt through her as if she'd been
stabbed.
One of
the men on horseback had two escorts with him. An argent banner flew
from his banner-bearer's staff, and beneath that was a small blue
banner with a fleur-de-lis flanked by two swords. The sight of it
made Beckyann's view waver as a wave of emotions crashed through her.
How many times have I seen that
emblem? How many times have my fingers traced it on a solid steel
breastplate as I stole moments with him? How proud was he, to wear
his own crest as he was appointed captain? How many times has it
haunted my thoughts, my memories?
Her gaze faltered
and with intense will she managed to move the scrying orb. Her vision
roaming until it found...him. He lead the men of course, he always
was a natural leader. He looked older now, although it was hard to
tell beneath his helm and the steel he wore. Frederick Lightstone had
always been an imposing figure, and in plate armor he was outright
powerful looking. Just glimpsing him made her knees weak, made her
want to vomit. She couldn't understand the feelings that flowed
through her upon taking in his visage.
He was a Captain of
the Argent Crusade now. She had known that of course. Had known he
was stationed almost beneath her feet in Light's Hope. She had never
been able to visit though, even after receiving a letter from him.
And now, there he was, in her sight at last, his sword flashing as he
brought it down to behead a ghoul that clawed at his mount.
She sighed, letting
her vision expand, not wanting to look any further. Just before she
released the spell, her eyes caught the sight of something larger
amongst the attacking undead. Eyes wide, she pushed the spell towards
the lumps in the distance, their forms clarifying and setting a sense
of dread and urgency in her stomach that she could not process in her
undead state.
There were
abominations in the group, and they had nearly reach the hapless
caravan.
In a second urgency
turned into rage, rage turned into action. She snapped the connection
to the scrying spell, whirling and pointing at several initiates who
manned the observation post, “You four, go and fetch five of our
skeletal gryphons! NOW! We have to hurry!”
One of the
initiates looked at the others and spoke hesitantly, “But Corporal,
we don't have orders to launch a rescu-”
His words were cut
off when Beckyann's runeblade impaled him. In a rage she left the
weapon quivering in his chest as he fell in a heap. She turned her
baleful gaze on the other initiates, her voice full of malice, “You
have your orders. I will take responsibility. Go NOW!”
As the initiates
scurried to obey, she reached down to gather her runeblade. She
hesitated, her thoughts whirling. She didn't want Frederick to see
her after all. A disguise was in order. Quickly, she stripped the
initiate of his rune-ax, also removing his helmet in the process. She
left him bleeding out black ichor on the ground as she rammed the
metal on her head, covering her hair and features. By the time she
had donned the helmet, the other initiates had returned, skeletal
gryphons cawing and hissing behind them. She nodded, taking the reins
of one and jumping into the saddle.
“We ride!” she
yelled before mercilessly kicking the undead creature and launching
it from Acherus.
**********************
Frederick knew they
were in trouble. The thought passed through his mind as his blade
came down to behead another skeleton that had tried to stab at his
mount. The caravan was mired in the ambush, unable to break free
without a change in the fortune of battle. Amongst the wagons were
women and children who had been leaving Light's Hope, and he knew
that if something didn't change, they would all perish.
His wife and child
were there. He could not fail.
“Rally to me!”
his voice called out, confident and strong. “We have to clear the
front of the wagons or we'll never get them out!”
Men-at-arms
responded, hurrying to his side and spearing a few more of the
undead. With a bit of luck and skill they just might break through.
The hope was dashed
as the ground began to shake, a dark shadow falling over the men.
With eyes wide, Captain Frederick Lightstone turned, his stomach
dropping as he saw the abomination that loomed over them. Its flesh
was oozing diseased ichor and filled with pustules, its organs
hanging out of holes in its torso. Made of a variety of different
creatures that had been stitched together like some mad jig-saw
puzzle, the undead creature was an unstoppable force. It growled,
raising a huge hatchet over its head, a sadistic grin on what passed
for its face.
Knowing that there
was no way the men would hold the line against it, Frederick spurred
his mount forward, his sword raised to take a blow that he would not
be able to stop. His heart sank as he realized he'd failed, and
determination to die fighting set in within him.
As the hatchet
began to descend, another shadow passed over the battlefield, this
one moving so fast it was almost impossible to spot. Just as
Frederick prepared himself for death, a blur flew from the corner of
his vision, racing towards the abomination. It was a dead gryphon,
made of bones held together with necromantic magic, its talons
extended like razor sharp swords, a horrifying screech coming from it
as the armored rider on its back forced it to fly full speed into the
abomination.
In a heartbeat bone
collided with flesh, and despite its size the abomination was plucked
from where it stood, torn to shreds, and thrown to the ground along
with the gryphon and rider. The three figures ended up in a heap ten
yards away, broken bones and oozing fluids all that remained of the
gryphon and the creature.
For a brief moment,
the battlefield drew silent as the undead took in the new threat.
Three more shadows drifted over them as three more armored figures
landed on the outskirts of the Scourge lines. As Frederick watched in
disbelief, the armored figure of a woman rose from the ruins of the
abomination, her hand reaching up to draw an axe from her back. The
weapon glittered with deadly runes as she stepped over her still
dying mount, bones crunching beneath her boots. A howl escaped her,
cold and empty as she brought the ax down on a nearby ghoul, cleaving
its head off.
And then all hell
broke loose.
*************************
Beckyann reveled in
the destruction she was causing. Ghouls charged her from all sides,
the weak creatures meeting their fate on the edge of the weapon she
held. Limbs were hacked off and diseased, clotted blood splattered
the ground around her. The dead began to pile like driftwood around
her feet, pinning her in place but meaning nothing to her as she
continued to slaughter.
From the corner of
the eye-slit in her helmet she caught sight of the initiates she'd
brought with her wading into the flanks of the undead, driving the
creatures away and slaying dozens of them. The men-at-arms behind her
of the Argent Crusade had begun to rally, and several of them were
clearing the path for the wagons to flee. In minutes the caravan
would escape the ambush and they could withdraw. She just had to slay
enough of the undead to deter them from following.
It was all going so
well that she was taken by surprise when the second abomination
launched its attack. This one had used more cunning, and rather than
running into the middle of what was now clearly a killing field, it
used a long chain as a ranged attack, the vicious hook on the end of
the chain made of steel and heavy enough to kill a horse.
The weapon flew
through the air, aimed at Beckyann's chest. At the last moment she
moved slightly, alerted to its flight as she finished off a ghoul
that had jumped on her. The repositioning saved her from extensive
damage as the creature's weapon gave her a glancing blow to the
helmet.
The force of the
impact would have killed a living woman, but it was not such a
concern for Beckyann. What WAS a concern was that it spun her around
and snapped the straps on the helmet, sending the armor flying away
and leaving a black, oozing bruise on her cheekbone. Her dead, golden
hair, now free of the confines of the armor, flowed around her,
framing her face as her head rolled back.
In that half spin,
her gaze crossed the battlefield. Facing the wrong way, her eyes
locked with HIS eyes, and she knew in that moment by the look on his
face that he recognized her. An electrifying shock passed through her
body, a terrifying moment of pure raw emotion that she could not
control. In that moment, the glow in her eyes faded, and a green-eyed
girl from Corin's Crossing stared out across the impossible distance
at the one who she once loved.
*********************
As the helmet was
torn from the woman's head, Frederick gasped in shock and horror. His
eyes met hers, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was
Beckyann. Although death had not been kind to her, it had frozen her
in a moment in time, and Frederick did not see the dead hair flowing
over stylized black armor or the emblems of death that surrounded
her. Instead he saw the vibrant young woman that he'd loved. The
woman who always wore a dress and a smile, her words kind and gentle
and the loving devotion in her eyes when she'd speak to him.
In that horrifying
instant, he knew that if he did not act, that girl would be plucked
from him again. If he did not MOVE, the Scourge would take her from
him as they had when his cowardice had allowed him to falter. Deep
within him, guilt plagued him as he thought of the wife and child in
one of the wagons behind him, but there was nothing he could do to
stop himself. It was a chance to undo the horrible mistake he'd made.
A way to assuage guilt that could never be soothed when it visited
him in his darkest dreams.
His face drew into
a frown of grim determination and his hand tightened its grip on his
sword as he prepared to finally save his beloved Beckyann.
***********************
He was going to be
foolish. She could see it in the way his back straightened. In that
stubborn look that crossed his face; the same one he'd always had
when about to argue a point. She could see it in the way his sword
came up, the way the gauntlets tightened around it. She could not
allow it of course, it was far too late for such a thing. That
moment, that time, had passed away forever.
For a second time
seemed to slow, and she murmured words that he would never hear over
the clash of the battlefield, but that he would read on her lips. He
would see it in the softening of her face; the first time a positive
emotion had passed across it in the years since she had perished.
Softly her voice
came, sounding almost like it had those many years ago, “No. I will
love you until the end of time itself, but you cannot save me now
Fred. I will never be safe again. Go and live and love. Flee and be
at peace.”
She reached out
with her free hand, grabbing the chain of the abomination's weapon,
her unnaturally strong grip locking around the links just as the
creature hauled back on it to retrieve it. As the force of the
creature's grip yanked the chain back, Beckyann's body was jerked
into the air like a doll, flying towards the creature, her golden
hair and black cape of the 1113th flaring out behind her
as she hurtled towards her doom, plucked away from that moment of
contact with Frederick forever.
*************************
In an instant she
was gone, taken by the Scourge once more. It ripped his heart asunder
in his chest, and grief would have driven him to his knees if not for
the words he saw on her black lips before she was snatched from him.
Tears streaming down his face, he turned from the sight of the
battlefield, looking with guilt towards the wagons behind him and the
men that awaited his commands. Realizing what she had bought him with
her attack and sacrifice, resolve surged through him.
“You three! Clear
those wheels! You and you! Push through the remaining Scourge there!
We're getting these people out of here!” his voice barked out.
Confidence surged through him as a part of him felt guilt melting
away, both at his actions and his indecision. Deep within him, peace
began to heal wounds that had been opened for too many years, as her
parting words freeing him from the past.
She was not
resentful. She had forgiven him. He knew it in his heart, and with
renewed energy his blade came up and he prepared to do his duty to
his order and to the people that depended on him. Nothing would stop
him now.
With a roar, the
Argent Crusaders charged, plowing a path through the remaining dead
that the Knights of the Ebon Blade had left. Behind them, they left
the center of the fight, freeing the innocents amongst them from the
carnage by blade and faith.
************************
Abominations were
one of the most powerful weapons the Scourge had ever made. Designed
to besiege and destroy any strong-point, the creatures were
unparalleled in strength, size, and ferocity. They were not very
intelligent, but that made it all the easier to direct them into
combat. Although few were left amongst the Scourge ranks in the
Plaguelands, they still were a formidable foe and many Argent
Crusaders had died beneath their chains, rusty weapons, and fists.
As the chain curled
back around the abomination's arm, it came to learn that although it
was almost the peak of Scourge research into necromantic weapons, it
was not THE most powerful weapon in their arsenal. The creature that
flew towards it from the force of the chain's yank was something
different entirely.
Designed purely for
war, purged of weaknesses and forged in the most vile of necromancy,
Beckyann Eastberg had been changed from that young maiden that
Frederick had loved into something else entirely. As she flew through
the air, her grip on the chain strong, scourgelight blazed in her
eyes and rage burned through her body. Designed to feed on negative
emotions, the shock and pain of meeting a loved one had sent her into
a killing frenzy.
As the arc of her
short flight was reached, the hand holding her rune-ax came up,
bringing the deadly weapon over her head. The abomination had
certainly not expected its prey to still be capable of lifting its
weapon. It was doubly surprised when Beckyann collided with it, her
ax arcing down and blazing with scourge magic as it smashed through
the creature's upper torso.
Still partially
alive, the abomination wondered in confusion why its vision suddenly
split in two as the two sides of what passed for its head fell away.
The last thing it saw was a boot coming down to stomp out one of its
eyes, and the last sound it heard was the howl of a forlorn spirit so
driven to rage that she would tear it into unrecognizable bits.
****************************
Hours would pass
before the battle came to an end. Hours filled with hacking, howling
rage that left Scourge creatures maimed and body parts and gore
littering the plaguelands. By the time it was done, Beckyann's armor
would be awash in dark fluids, several rents in the metal showing
where blows had struck her.
One of her legs was
barely functional, a gargoyle's talon protruding from her armor as
she limped to the edge of the battlefield. All around her as far as
the eye could see lay twitching, dead Scourge. One other figure
walked amongst the destroyed creatures as carrion birds circled
slowly high above. Beckyann nodded at the last remaining initiate,
pleased to see that her entire strike force had not been destroyed.
The initiate, a
human who was now sans one of his arms, saluted her awkwardly before
frowning, “All of the mounts were slain Corporal. We'll have to
walk back...unless you can make a death gate?”
Beckyann shrugged,
figuring the pain of the magically enchanted claw in her leg would be
good suffering to focus on during the trek. In the distance, she saw
a cloud of dust passing out of sight; the caravan safely on its way
into Argent territory once more. For a brief moment, the glow of her
eyes faded once more, and she nodded towards the departing dust,
“Farewell...my love.”
The initiate
paused, turning to look at her, “Ma'am? Did you say something?”
Beckyann turned,
her eyes glowing once more as she started the long walk towards
Acherus, too drained even to open a death gate back home, “Shut up
initiate.”
He wisely did so as
the two headed off.
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