A Roll In The Hay by Thrysta

[Keeper Of Lore]

"Thrysta?!"

The dimunitive priestess startled slightly at the sound of her name, looking up from her knitting.
Ensconced in a highbacked chair near the roaring fire of the Brill Tavern, she had been
looking so very forward to an evening of finally catching up with her needlework.

Her ministrations amongst the refugees of the Lower City in Shattrath took up so very much of her
time, not to mention her duties as a priestess of The Grim. It was rare to have a moment
such as this to herself. To come back to the relative peace and quiet of this small village from
time to time, to knit and enjoy quiet contemplation, such moments were to be treasured. So, it
was with great care that Thrysta masked her annoyance at the interuption.

Turning, a patient smile pasted across her face that she did not quite feel, Thrysta looked
up at the figure who had called her name.

A Forsaken man, unknown to her, yet...familiar. His face was a torn mess, two radiant golden eyes
amidst the ruin, skin missing in patches. His dessicated body, however, still held a good deal of
muscular bulk. He was quite tall as well, Thrysta having to crane her neck back quite far to look
up at him.

He was smiling wickedly at her, arms wide, as if expecting some sort of warm greeting in return.

Thrysta cocked her head, smiling sweetly to the extent her own ravaged face would allow.

"Yes, brother? I'm so very sorry, but you'll have to forgive me...have we met?" she inquired.

The Forsaken man's smile slipped a bit, before he broke into a loud laugh, throwing back his head
in exaggerated mirth.

Thrysta surreptitiously looked about the quiet tavern. Heads raised here and there to look for
the source of the laughter...looking her way.

The undead male grinned salicously down at her.

"Awww...was I that bad? You don't recall our little rolls in the hay?" he smirked.

Thrysta's smile slipped as she took in his words. Her lips curled in a snarl as she rose quickly to
her feet, glaring into the face of-

Jorgan.

The name came back to her in a rush as she recognized the man, her fellow villager from her time
amongst the living, the times they had met in the-

Oh dear.

Thrysta eyes widened in shock as she shook her head, almost to physically banish such thoughts.
She quickly regained her composure, aware of the watchful eyes that surrounded her. She looked
about the tavern, smiling sweetly at those who had overheard the exchange. Heads quickly turned
elsewhere as Thrysta swept them with her calm gaze, a visage that masked the wild panic
gripping her at the sudden revelation.

"You are mistaken, brother," Thrysta said loudly, for all to hear, "I am but a priestess of the Holy
Light. You seem to have me confused with some sort of common harlot," she continued.

Jorgan's smile faltered under her gaze. He started to speak, but Thrysta cut him off.

"You. Are. Mistaken. Brother." she repeated again, smiling sweetly over tightly clenched teeth.

Her fellow villager looked completely lost at her apparent lack of recognition.

Thrysta returned to her seat, looking up at the bewildered Forsaken.

"Now, I suggest you be on your way, brother. I do not approve of such...behaviour," she added frostily,
returning her attention to her needlework.

Jorgan shook his head, staring at her, before finally heading for the tavern doorway with a confused
grumble. Thrysta watched him go, out of the corner of her eye. As he was on his way out she focused,
softly murmuring a prayer of domination under her breath as she reached for his mind.

The big Forsaken male suddenly went rigid in the doorway, as if pole-axed. His face went slack, eyes
losing their glow as Thrysta took total control of his mind.

"Can you hear me, Jorgan?" Thrysta murmured softly, almost completely inaudibly, her eyes closed as
she sat before the crackling fire.

"Yesss..." Jorgan mumbled, across the room in the doorway, his eyes rolling back.

"I know who you are, lover. Make haste for the graveyard, near the mausoleum. I will meet you there..."
Thrysta murmured, "...when it is prudent. Soon, you great big bull...soon."

With that, Thrysta released her hold on Jorgan's mind. He clutched at the doorway as his free will
returned, disorienting him slightly. His mouth, however, quickly creased in an amorous grin, glancing
back slightly over his shoulder as he made his way out of the tavern, into the night.

Watching him leave out of the corner of her eye, Thrysta closed her eyes, her needlework dropping to her
lap as she rubbed her ruined temples.

She would wait for an hour...an agonizing hour.

Then she would go to him.

[Keeper Of Lore]

((
Sorry this one's so long...
I'll edit it later, but I just wanted to get it out before I decided
to scrap it and go for re-write #4...
))

"Jorgan."

The large Forsaken looked up at the sound of his name, watching Thrysta slip through the mist and
shadows toward the mauseleum where he stood. The night was still and cool, the mists swirling through
the Brill Graveyard. It made for a perfect late evening rendezvous, he thought to himself, grinning
devilishly.

"Well well, that was quite a trick you pulled inside the inn, you little minx," he chided.

Thrysta smiled tentatively at him, moving to a stone bench near the the crumbling structure he stood by,
gently patting the seat beside her in invitation. Jorgan's ruined face breaking into an enthusiastic
smile, he moved to join her, settling in next to the petite Forsaken woman.

"You'll have to forgive me," Thrysta murmured, "My memory is not what it once was. My re-awakening
amongst the Forsaken was...traumatic. I have a new life now, a life of service. I have embraced it."

Feigning sympathy, Jorgan made a soothing noise, wrapping his large arm around Thrysta's narrow
shoulders. She leaned into him, sighing softly as she rested her head on his chest and shoulder.

"My response in the inn was...necessary. You must understand, Jorgan, I am now a priestess of the Holy
Light. In life I was married and was a mother. Our time as lovers, while enjoyable, I'm sure was long
before-"

"Ha! Like that ever stopped us!" Jorgan chortled. He felt the priestess stiffen in his embrace.

Must be the chill night air, he thought.

"...what...did you say?" she whispered.

Grinning devilishly, Jorgan rubbed Thrysta's shoulders as he continued.

"Hahaha! Oh, You were a tigress! Insatiable, even! I didn't mind sharing you but, by mercy, it seemed
half the men in the village were rutting with you!"

Thrysta trembled, her face turned downward as she leaned into him, her taloned hands clutching at him.

Little woman in the chill night, he absently thought.

He held her tighter as he continued, warming to his current topic.

"Ha! You were a fine lay, Thrys! That fool husband of yours was too cowardly to say anything!
But he did provide for you, didn't he?" Jorgan guffawed, "I remember you laughing in his face when he
discovered us...you didn't even get off of me!"

Thrysta was shaking in his grasp, shoulders jerking. She was mumbling, whispering something against
his chest. Still chuckling, Jorgan leaned his head down.

"Eh? Speak up, you little minx! Whispering sweet nothings to your big bull?"

Thrysta's head flashed up, eyes wide, her face locked in a snarl of utter hatred.

"I SAID TURN AROUND YOU FUCKING OX!"

Jorgan's jaw dropped in shock at her screaming outburst. He pulled away from her, dumbfounded, just
as the Shadowfiend ripped into his back, slamming him forward off the bench.

Jorgan yowled in agony as the Shadowfiend's fanged maw found his flesh over and over, cracking bone and
rending muscle. He wrestled in the dirt with the creature, thrashing amongst the tentacles and fangs,
screaming as it tore gobbet after gobbet of dessicated flesh from him. Gurgling, thick black blood filling
his mouth, he thrashed feebly under the ravenous creature until it abruptly faded away, the shadowy
essence of its incorporeal body fading into the misty night.

Sprawled on his back in the dirt, coughing and gasping wetly, he tried to rise. His torn and broken body,
however, simply would not respond. Jorgan's eyes rolled, his limbs twitching and spasming, the horrible
pain overwhelming him.

A shadow passed over him and he managed to briefly focus for a few moments to see Thrysta standing
next to him, looking down on him with a savage smile.

Clutching at the skirts of her raiment with both taloned hands, Thrysta pulled them slightly upward as
she stepped with one leg over Jorgan's twitching body. Straddling him as she stood, she slowly sank down
to her knees, settling onto the dying Forsaken like an eager lover.

Thrysta moved her taloned hands to Jorgan's chest, clutching at his torn and bloodsoaked shirt as she
leaned down, putting her face near his.

"Does this feel like old times, Jorgan?!" she hissed into his face. "Is this what you sought, you
fucking animal, you pathetic excuse for a man?!"

Jorgan gurgled, eyes rolling, shaking his head feebly.

"You lie and you sin and you seek to defile my purity with your desire for carnal pleasure!" Thrysta
screeched in his face. Throwing her head back, she screamed the primal Forsaken words for pain, focusing
the prayer on Jorgan. He began screaming wetly once again, his body thrashing wildly in agony under the
frail priestess.

Thrysta rode him as he bucked and thrashed, her hips and thighs moving expertly as she clutched at Jorgan's
shredded garments. Her face was locked in a vicious rictus of pleasure and hatred, eyes locked on the
male's torn face and body.

The prayer reaching its end, Thrysta leaned down once again on Jorgan. Draping her body over his, faces
inches apart, she whispered.

"This is for the best, dear Jorgan. Your sin must be purged through pain. Your lies must be cleansed
through suffering. I do so hope you understand," Thrysta murmured, her ruined lips almost touching
those of the stricken male.

Jorgan coughed in agony, black blood spraying in Thrysta's face. She closed her eyes, smirking softly,
then opened them, making no move to wipe away the dripping gore. Cocking her head slightly, she made
soothing shushing noises as she watched Jorgan gasp out his last breaths. Gurgling, he tried to speak.

"w...wy...lek..." he gasped, quivering under her.


Thrysta brow furrowed. Wilek, she thought. A familiar name, a person...but who?

"...coming...f...hrrrgh...frr youuu...hope...ki...kills you...slowww..." Jorgan gurgled, "...hope...
...he...you...crazy..fuh..fuck...ing in..insane bih...bitch..."

Thrysta smiled sweetly, her blood-drenched face filling Jorgan's blurring vision.

"Insane, a priestess of the Holy Light, insane?" She purred, stroking his ravaged cheek. "I am not
insane, dear Jorgan..."

"...I AM BLESSED!" Thrysta screamed, arching her back, throwing her gaze to the sky as she screeched
the Forsaken words for death.

Two dark bolts of power arced down through the mist, slamming into Jorgan's head and shoulders. Gore
and viscera flew in all directions as his head and most his upper body were obliterated by the death
prayer.

Still straddling what was left of the twitching corpse, Thrysta sighed softly, hands on her hips.

"I do believe...you have received absolution for your lies, dear Jorgan." she murmured.

Rising off the body, Thrysta looked down at her gore-soaked raiments. Brushing at them primly, she
pursed her ruined lips.

"Such a mess...this simply will not do."

Murmuring a prayer, Thrysta channeled the Holy light within her, channeling a column of white fire that
blasted down onto the ruined remains of Jorgan as she fussed with her vestments. The corpse burned,
flesh incinerating in the holy flames, cooking down to blackened bone.

Retrieving her hearthstone, Thrysta activated its magic. As the stone activated, preparing to summon her
to her quarters in Shattrath City, she pondered a single name. Wilek.

Another sinner in need of my attentions, she thought, as the hearthstone wisked her away in a flash.

Another sinner...but who?

[Keeper Of Lore]

"hahahahaa...and then...whew...and then..hahaha!!"

Entering the Grim common room, her duties done for this day, Thrysta noted about a dozen or so of the brethren
sitting at a large table. The gathered members were sharing libations and engaged in some sort of ribald
conversation.

One of them, an armored orc, was regaling the others with an apparent tale. Thrysta noted he wore the
tabard of Blood Moon Rising, staunch allies of The Grim. A few others in the gathering shared his affiliation.

"...hahahaha and she got mad, mad as hell...and he...hahahaha told her to stop flirtin' with HIM! Hahahaha!"

The table exploded in laughter as Thrysta frowned, the gathered brethren seeming to be deep in their cups.

No sense of moderation, she thought to herself, such excess and naughtiness.

The orc continued on with his tale, Grims and Blood Moons alike chuckling and drinking.

"...I was listenin'...I thought that blood elf girl was gonna reach through her hearthstone and throttle him,
she was so...hehehe...she was so mad...and then and then...hehe..whew...and then get this...he tells HER to
shut her sass mouth or..hahaha...hahahahaha or he'd take her over his his knee and give her a spankin'! HAHA!"

The assembled brethren broke down into gales of laughter, pounding their mugs on the table and making bawdy
jokes. Thrysta strode toward the table, intent on giving the brethren a gentle reminder of moderation and
proper behaviour, especially amongst allies.

"...if I knew the hearthstone chatter could be hahaha...could be THAT entertaining, I'd keep it on all the
time!" the orc heartily added, "Wilek had us in stitches!"

Thrysta froze in mid-step, her mouth wide in shock as she stared at the laughing orc.

...the sinner...

Her eyes narrowing, lips curling into a snarl, Thrysta's taloned hands bunched into little fists. Power began
to build within her, a glow surrounding her as ravening holy energies gathered, her frail body a living battery
of light.

As the sudden influx of light, those at the table looked up, seeing the tiny forsaken priestess glaring at them,
wreathed in holy energies, fist bunched at her sides, her eyes locked on the orc like a spider watching a fly.

The grins and laughter faded from the gathering, hands dropping from mugs and edging toward the hafts and handles
of sheathed weapons, the threat and hate from the little Forsaken radiating off her in waves.

The Blood Moon orc eyed the priestess warily, his hand wandering to a large axe on the bench next to him.

Thrysta strode to the table, her fists glowing with light, eyes locked on the orc.

A younger Grim amongst the small gathering, a female troll, looked at the priestesss and stammered.

"Priestess, we were just funnin' around, don' be mad, we just was 'avin' a few, nothin' 'urt now by it..."

Thrysta turned her snarling gaze on the young troll girl, who was almost as tall sitting as the priestess was
standing. Nevertheless, the girl quailed, her hands moving away from her mug as she mumbled apologies.

Turning back to the orc, Thrysta leaned down, her decaying visage inches from his own face.

Her voice barely above a whisper, Thrysta hissed.

"Who...is...Wilek?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

By now, the confrontation had gathered notice amongst others in the room. Grims and scattered Blood Moons
watched the spectacle in silence. Eyes narrowing, the large orc grinned toothily at the little Forsaken.

"Who's Wilek?" the orc snickered, his eyes traveling over the shoulder of the tiny priestess, "He's the fella
standin' right behind you, preacher girl."

Eyes widening in fury, Thrysta whirled...

...right into the arms of a wiry Forsaken male. In a flash, he spun her in his embrace, dipping her downward,
his mouth closing over her ravaged lips in a quick hard kiss as he leaned in over her.

Thrysta uttered a muffled shriek as the male held her tight, his mouth sealed over hers. Overcoming her shock
in an instant, she started to focus on a prayer of purifying fire, murder filling her thoughts. Her concentration
broke, however, as the male abruptly let go of her. With a very undignified squawk of surprise, Thrysta fell
in a heap to the floor, glaring up at the male in a mixture of shock, surprise and utter hatred.

The room exploded into laughter at the scene, the tiny priestess laid out in a heap on the floor, the wiry male
whirling in place away from her and bowing theatrically to the assembled Grims and Blood Moons.

Thrysta glared around at the laughter, scrambling to her feet unceremoniously.

The male turned back to her as she rose, an infuriatingly arrogant smirk creasing his features. His hands
rested on the hilts of swords sheathed at his hips. The tabard of Blood Moon Rising lay over armor of worn
dark leather.

Thrysta screeched in fury, her hands curling into little fists as she bit back they death prayer that was
rising to her lips. The Mistress had been absolutely clear on the subject of violence between the brethren.
If she were to harm this Wilek, Thrysta knew she would face the wrath of the Mistress...and she could not,
would not have the Mistress be displeased with her.

Wilek smirked wickedly, his hands smoothing the tabard down over his armor, seemingly enjoying the impotent
fury of the little priestess. With a sweep of his arm, he gestured to a nearby table.

"How's about you sit down and have a drink with ol' Wilek, darlin'?" he drawled, "I Promise I won't bite..."

(To Be Continued)

[Keeper Of Lore]

Thrysta was trembling in fury, her taloned nails digging deep into her dessicated palms as she stared at the
rogue. She could barely contain herself, such was her desire to...purge...this Wilek with holy flame and the
power of The Light. Amidst the flood of righteous anger, one thought flew through her head over and over as
she glared at the Forsaken...


...so familiar...

Shutting her eyes tightly, she willed herself to be calm, softly whispering a prayer for strength and patience.
This fool's time would come, she knew. She would get her chance to ministrate to him oh so very thoroughly.
But now, with the brethren watching their spectacle, now was not the time.

Thrysta opened her eyes, forcing a serene smile to her face as she moved to the offered table. Standing by one
of the chairs at the small table, Thrysta cleared her throat softly, looking back over her shoulder at the rogue.

Wilek swept forward with a threatrical flourish, sliding back the chair slightly as he bent in a ridiculous bow.

Her smile slipping into a slight frown, she sat down primly, folding her hands in her lap as Wilek slid her
slightly forward in the chair.

With a lithe movement, he swept around the table, sinking into the chair opposite Thrysta, throwing his legs up,
his boots banging onto the tabletop as he lounged back, smirking at her.

"Sorry darlin', my gentleman act only goes so far," he snickered.

Seeing that the show was over, most of the assembled Grims and Blood Moons turned back to their assorted
libations and conversations. This left the two Forsaken to converse as the room once again filled with the
familiar sounds of shouts, laughing and the murmur of conversation.

Thrysta sat, eyeing the rogue as he took out a small dagger, pairing at his blackened nails casually with it.
He looked her over as well, that insolent smirk never leaving his face. Thrysta's frown deepened as she spoke.

"Now then, rogue, you will not in the future address me as dar-" she began.

"Darlin'," Wilek interrupted, slipping the dagger away, "you got any idea who I am?"

Thrysta paused, her eyes narrowing. It bothered her that his face was so very familar, yet she could not
recall any memory.

Another liar from my past like that sinner Jorgan, she thought to herself.

All semblance of a smile now gone, Thrysta answered the sinner's question, her voice clipped with irritation.

"I know you are an arrogant, insolent fool. Will that suffice?"

Wilek laughed, his head tipping back as he enjoyed his mirth.

"Heh, now those are some big ol' words, darlin', but I get the picture. And I guess I can't argue much
with that. But the fact o' the matter, sweetness, is that I'm somethin' else too."

He swept his feet off the table, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a murmur as he smirked wickedly.

"I'm the fella that's gonna put you down, you sick fuckin' animal."

Thrysta's eyes widened, mouth dropping open, her talons digging furrows in the table as she trembled with hate.
Her desire, her need to rend the sin from this...this...creature for his lies was almost overwhelming her.
Wilek's eyes never left her own as they sat across from each other, the space between them almost palpable with
hate and cold, cold fury.

"Ya see, darlin', there's a problem with this," Wilek drawled softly, "and that's the fact that you just don't
remember.

"You're gonna suffer, sweetness. You're gonna scream and cry with every cut and slice I put on you. But
we ain't gonna get down to it until you remember, sugar.

Thrysta's eyes never left those of Wilek, small licks of holy fire dancing along her fingertips. The tiny
priestess was stark still, a feral predator about to strike.

Wilek leaned back, that already insufferable smirk returning to his face as he rested his hands on the hilts
of his blades.

"Now 'til that time when you figure it alllllll out, you'll just have to put up with ol' Wilek being around and
about, now won't you?" he murmured, "Wouldn't want your lil' dead-girl Mistress to think ill of ya for harmin'
one of your own, ain't that righ-?"

"Jorgan was kind enough to inform me of your iminent arrival," Thrysta interupted, her ruined face creased in a
sickly sweet smile, her sunken eyes locked on Wilek.

"Oh well now, how is that big ol'-"

"I ripped the sin from him while he screamed and cried," Thrysta purred, "Do trust me, Wilek, when I assure you
that you will be even louder when under my care.

"I cleanse sin, Wilek. I purge pain. I reach into souls in need and tear from them what brings such suffering.

"I do it because it is fine work and it brings me great joy," she continued, "I am patient, I am thorough and
ministrating to you will be so very, very delicious when the time does come."

Now it was Thrysta's turn to lean forward as Wilek watched her warily, eyes narrowed, his smirk gone.

"I'm going to enjoy every fucking minute of it, just like I did with Jorgan."

She leaned back, a smirk of her own crossing her face.

"My my, that wasn't very holy of me, now was it?" she murmured, "I do so try to keep a tight reign on such
profane words."

Wilek laughed wickedly but his eyes were wary, "Well now ain't you all cultured and mannered now, Thrysta girl.
Far cry from the whore you were. Hell, you weren't even a whore...least they get money for doin' all that
sweatin' and gruntin'."

Thrysta's eyes narrowed dangerously as Wilek continued, his face taking on a cold glare as he seemed to be
staring at something far, far away.

"Yep, you were a dang busy gal back then," he murmured, "It's gonna be a reeeeal pleasant time helpin' you
remember, darlin'."

With that, Wilek rose from the table, smirking arrogantly once again as he bowed to her in mock politeness.

Thrysta watched him turn and walk away, vainly searching for a last parting verbal shot. The urge to strike him
down right then and there was making her want to scream in frustration as he sauntered out of the common room.

Who is he...did I know him...he must be lying, like Jorgan...

Thrysta sat alone at the table late into the evening, trying, trying to remember, but the memories would not come.

Finally, shaking her head, rubbing at her temples, she rose to retire to her quarters. She could not help but
feel, however, that the rogue had already cut her deep...

(To Be Continued)

[Keeper Of Lore]

"Mrrrrghhhlllraaggghhlllgaaghhh!"

Wilek whirled at the sound of the gargled battle cry, his knives deftly catching
and deflecting the swinging mace of his newest attacker.

"Gonna have to speak a bit more clear son," he growled, twirling as he gouged one
of his blades across the face of the murloc.

"Grrrrrgggglllrragggle!" the creature screamed, clutching at its torn face with one
hand as Wilek spun behind it.

"Couldn't agree more, friend," the rogue hissed as he stabbed one of his knives deep
into the murloc's back.

Gurgling, the creature stiffened, back arching as the blade dug deep. Continuing his spin,
dropping low as he twirled to the front of the creature, Wilek swiped his second knife
across the murloc's stomach.

With a strangled gasp the creature collapsed, its entrails spilling out onto the grass.
Gurgling its last wet breath, it expired, joining the other two murloc corpses on the nearby
ground.

Flicking his blades out to each side, the blood of the creatures flying away, he sheathed one
of the two knives at his hip with a small flourish.

"Now don't that just put a spring in your step?" he murmured to himself, smiling wistfully
at his handiwork on behalf of his current employer. An apothecary in nearby Tarren Mill wanted
the eyes of these creatures and was prepared to pay well.

"Fella's gotta make some scratch somehow," Wilek drawled, shrugging his shoulders to no one
in particular, brandishing his second knife as he bent to the task of retrieving the murloc's
eyes.

"Ah, dear Wilek..."

The rogue whirled at the sound of the voice behind him, his hands a blur as he twirled into
a combat stance, knives brandished.

Thrysta stood barely a dozen paces away, a satisfied smirk pasted across her ruined face as
she eyed the wary rogue.

"My my, aren't we the nervous one?" she hissed, "You were kind enough to inform a number of
my brethren that you wished to see me in Tarren Mill this eve.

"In the interest of kindness, however, I thought to arrive a bit early on this fine day and
find you here at your...labors," she murmured, glancing distastefully at the murloc corpses.

"Besides, it is so very beautiful here in Hillsbrad...beautiful...and secluded," she smirked,
her taloned hands beginning to glow with bright light.

Wilek stood still, his eyes narrowing as watched the little priestess. The glow around
her hands began to build as she started to channel a spell.

She's too damn powerful...ain't time yet, think fast, dammit...

Thrysta's hands rose, light corruscating from them, her gaze locked on him as she readied
her attack.

"What were their names?" Wilek drawled at her, more calmly than he felt.

Thrysta opened her mouth to respond, then shut it. Her dark eyes narrowed, her smirk
faltering as she continued her murmuring prayer.

"Your family, Thrysta, tell me their names!" Wilek shouted.

Shutting her eyes, Thrysta concentrated, shaking her head slightly. The glow around her
faltered, fading as she seemed to be grappling with some internal struggle.

"Can't remember, can you, girl?" he murmured, "Poor lil' whore, can't even recall
the names a' the folks she loves most...now ain't that just somethin'?"

Wilek chuckled mockingly, striding within a few feet of Thrysta as she struggled with her
memories, the glow around her fading completely.

"C'mon, darlin', you said you saved 'em, huh?" Wilek drawled, "Said you spent a long
time goin' after their lil' souls and such, hell, you tell it to everyone who'll listen!"

Thrysta's eyes snapped open, glaring at Wilek in a mixture of hate and utter confusion.
Her gaze darted to the ground, then upwards. Her mouth work soundlessly, her dessicated
tongue licking at her ruined lips as she searched for a response.

"So tell me, tell ol' Wilek here, what're the names of your family, girl?"

Tears gathered in Thrysta's hollow eyes as she again shut them, obviously desperate to
remember the names.

"I...I...they..."

Wilek's face hardened. He had no pity for this girl.

"Guess what, lil' darlin'...I know 'em, I know those names."

Thrysta shook her head in refusal, her eyes shut tight, tears leaking down her ruined
cheeks.

"No...sinner...liar!" she gasped.

"I ain't doin' you no favors, slut, this ain't no kindness," Wilek growled, "Remember
that everythin' I do is to make sure you hurt, that you suffer.

"Everythin' I do is to make sure you get what's comin' to you, what you deserve, you
lil' animal."

He leaned in, barking three separate words harshly.

"Yarvick!"

Thrysta's hollow eyes opened widely, a sob escaping her as the name of her dead husband
left Wilek's lips. Her hand flew to her ravaged mouth, trying in vain to stifle the sound.

"Tira!"

Thrysta's shoulders began to shake, tears flowing uncontrollably as she sobbed openly
at the sound of her daughter's name.

"Tylar!"

Thrysta threw back her head and wailed at the name of her son. Crying uncontrollably,
she fell to her knees in front of the rogue, hands covering her face as she wept.

Wilek circled around her slowly, hands on the hilts of his sheathed knives, eyeing
Thrysta's sobbing form like a cat watching an injured mouse.

"Aw, darlin', you're just a wreck, ain't you?" Wilek hissed, "It's allll about to come
back to you, ain't it...and you're so damn scared, because you know, sweetness. you know
it now, deep down...

"You know I ain't lyin'."

Wilek clutched the hilts of his knives tightly as he stood behind Thrysta, watching her
shoulders shake in uncontrollable sobs.

"Now, it's time for you, lil' darlin', to rememb-"

"I loved them, I loved them!" Thrysta wailed out, "I loved...them..."

Wilek's face contorted in rage, glaring hatefully at the back of the crying priestess.

"The hell you did!" he raged, "You hated 'em!

"Hated 'em right to your rotten lil' core, slut!" he spit out, "You rutted with every dang
man you could find to spite your rightful husband and you screamed at those two beautiful
kids every chance you got!"

Thrysta wept, choking on her sobs, unable even to respond save for shaking her head, eyes
shut tight, her hands clutching handfuls of her own hair.

Wilek moved in towards Thrysta, laying his bared knives on her shoulders, glaring down at
her back. His hands tightened on the hilts as each blade rested against one side of
Thrysta's neck.

"You hated 'em," he continued, "Hated 'em with a passion, darlin'...

"...and then you killed them," he whispered.

Thrysta's eyes snapped open.

"NO! NOOOOOOO!" she screamed, light exploding from her body in a blinding flash, engulfing
the two of them.

(To Be Continued)

[Keeper Of Lore]

Wilek awoke groggily, laid out on his back in the Hillsbrad grass.

Thrysta!

Sitting up abruptly, he looked around, finding himself to be alone.

That gal's got power...shoulda kept my big yapper shut and finished her.

Shaking his head, Wilek immediately regretted the movement. A pounding headache being
the only after-effect of Thrysta's spell, he figured he'd gotten off easy. The fact
remained, however, that he'd had her. As powerful as she was he'd broken her down,
got her right where he wanted her...then screwed it up.

Gathering his knives, Wilek stood up slowly and carefully, grinding his blackened teeth
in frustration. He had one reason, one single reason to continue. To be what he was,
this husk, he knew he wouldn't be able to take it much longer.

He'd kill the whore...and then he would rest.

Forever.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Wilek was tired.

His decomposed, dessicated body was covered in rents and tears, dry flesh
parted, bone protruding. Here and there, some of the greater damage was
bandaged, more to hold his body together than to mend any sort of wound.

His clothes were dirty and torn from an untold number of fights, his tasks
having pitted him against all manner of creatures and obstacles. They were
tasks he had found to be meaningless, busywork on the road to the one
thing he had left to do.

He didn't want this...this...unlife. It was sick. Wrong.
He had tried, tried to exist...like this...

To be like he used to, in life.

The thought now made him melancholy.

Thrysta had to pay, then he could rest.

He scanned the letter he held one more time, then smiled wistfully.
Dropping the parchment to the cold stone of the Undercity, he shook
his head, making for the Bat Handler.

It was time.

As he walked away, intent on his flight, the letter fluttered on an updraft
of fetid air, twirling down gracefully into the sickly green morass of the
Undercity's canals. Settling into the sludge, the note was lost forever,
dissolving in the viscous fluids. For one moment, it had been legible, as it
settled onto the surface...

Wilek,

Come to me. Our village. Our home.
I know who you are now.
The Mistress has spoken and it is over.
We will end this.

Thrysta

[Keeper Of Lore]

Dark mists swirled through the corrupted air as Wilek walked up the overgrown mountain path.

Finishing the ascent, he left the familiar path, stepping out onto a small plateau. In front
of Wilek lay the charred foundation and shattered remnants of a small cottage. Set further
back and muted within the fetid mists loomed a small brown hill, patchy with tufts of
yellowed grass.

Turning to look down from the high cliff to the town below, Wilek saw it was a ruin. His
home had been down there...but the good things in his life had ended up here.

He turned from the cliff’s edge and its haunting view, back to what was left of the small
ruined cottage.

Near the burnt foundation lay three neat unmarked graves. Thrysta sat on the ground, legs
folded beneath her as she stroked the dirt of one of the mounds with a taloned hand.

She was watching him, her face wet with tears, making no move to assault him.

Wilek cocked his head, returning her gaze. His hands resting on the hilts of the knives
sheathed at his hips.

"I was so very terrible to them, wasn't I?" she murmured, fresh tears rolling down her
dessicated cheeks.

Wilek shook his head, his eyes narrowing.

"Yeah...you were, darlin'," he murmured, "Never did understand why, but you hated them
three somethin' fierce.

"He was a good man, Thrysta, the best. And those two kids were jus' pure dang joy."

Wilek gestured to the small hill.

"Yarvick and I would play with 'em over there, watchin' over 'em while they laughed and
ran around. We watch'd over 'em, keepin' those two safe, while you were off...doin' what
you did with them other fellas."

He spat into the dirt, his face simmering with anger as Thrysta looked tearfully up at him,
struggling to speak.

"Wilek...I would never have killed them," she said with a forlorn look, "I was Scourge..."

"Darlin', it don't matter," Wilek chided softly, "You took three folks I loved more than
anythin' else...

"...You took 'em in ways that still give me nightmares, darlin'."

Thrysta looked away, stifling a sob, but nodding at his words.

"I didn't...Wilek, I didn't save them, did I? I...thought...their souls...I was gone so long,
I thought they loved me and I loved them...I thought...I was pure, holy...

"...I thought I had redeemed myself...and saved them, my treasures..."

Wilek strode over to stand next to Thrysta, looming above the crying priestess. His hands
curled around the hilts of his knives with audible creaks, his face a snarling rictus.
He stared at her, tensed like a drawn bowstring. Abruptly, however, Wilek let out a long
sigh, the anger seeming to drain out of him. He sank wearily down into the dirt beside the
tearful priestess.

"Darlin', you're damaged. I dunno why you're the way you are, but I can't forgive it,
can't let it sway me none.

"I'm tired, Thryssy girl...so dang tired. I been after you seems like forever. Almos'
had you in Winterspring back then, back when things was...still raw.

"I dunno what you saw in the snow back then, what your lil' mind was playin' on but, girl,
your family, they're dead and gone...

"...and you was the one who did it. You didn't save nothin' 'sfar as I know.

"You done some sick things, darlin'...some terrible, terrible things. You ain't right,
but that ain't no excuse, girl..."

Thrysta nodded, turning back to the graves, crying softly.

The two Forsaken sat next to the three graves in silence for some time, both forlornly
watching the unmarked mounds as the mists of the plaguelands swirled around them.

Finally, it was Wilek who broke their reverie.

"Darlin', we gotta end this," he murmured.

"I remember who you are," Thrysta whispered immediately in response, her tear-filled
eyes still on the graves, her taloned hand stroking the mounds of dirt.

Wilek frowned.

"Does it matter, darlin'?" He turned as he sat, facing her, "Is that gonna change anythin'?"

Thrysta continued, oblivious to his questions.

"You're Yarvick's brother."

(To Be Continued)

[Keeper Of Lore]

((
I'm not editing this one.
Screw the mistakes.
))

Wilek sighed softly, turning to stare at the largest of the three unmarked mounds.

"Yeah, darlin'," he murmured, "you got it, but it dont' change nothin'...

"My lil' brother loved you long as I can remember, Thrys, happiest day a' his
life was when my ol' daddy and yours announced you two gettin' hitched up.

He frowned.

"You two were a great match...you were a sweet lil' thing, and Yarvick was...he...he was
a better man than I could ever hope to be, darlin'," he continued softly, "Two good families,
settlin' in together, made a whole bunch a sense."

Thrysta turned to look at him, crying softly.

"Wilek, it does change something, knowing who you are," speaking softly, blinking back her
tears, she continued.

"...because you took someone away from me as well, someone I loved so very, very much."

Cocking his head, looking at the little priestess, Wilek frowned.

"Darlin', I done a lotta terrible things comin' after ya, hurt lotsa folks," he said,
"Most deserved it, some didn't, but I didn't ever hurt no one durin' our time...here."

He gestured to the ruined cottage, sweeping his arm out to encompass the view of the ruined
village far below as well.

"So you tell me, crazy girl, who'd I take from you?" he spat, glaring at her.

Thrysta's face hardened as she glared back at him, then she spoke.

"Yourself, Wilek. You took yourself from me."

"Now what the heck are-" Wilek started

"Dashing Wilek! With his inventions, his flirtations, his handsome face, his talent with
a blade," Thrysta hissed in interuption, "The man who every girl swooned over, the man who
flirted and winked at and teased every girl, the man who was more promiscuous than an
alley cat!"

Opening his mouth to speak, Thrysta again cut Wilek off.

"The dashing young man who lavished his attention on every girl..."

"...except one! Except one girl, who loved him so very much...

"...because in his dimly functioning mind, that girl was saved for his little brother, a man
she did not love. A man that did not compare in her eyes to his older sibling!"

Thrysta was choking back sobs, glaring at him, almost snarling. Wilek stared, his mouth
working, no sound coming out.

"I loved YOU! I loved you and you ignored me! You hardly noticed me! Because I was for your
brother, in your eyes, the hell with what I WANTED! Isn't that right, Wilek?! Isn't it?!"

She leaned in, putting her ruined visage within inches of Wilek's shocked face as she
continued on.

"My father, your father, you...you all knew what was best, didn't you?! You all had it
planned because, how did you...put it, Wilek, it...MADE...SENSE?!"

Thrysta was openly sobbing, choking on gasps, her face locked in a mixture of hate and
desolate sadness.

"I wanted you to see me...to notice me! Anything! But no...no, I was married off to your
brother like...like some sort of BROOD MARE!" she sobbed, glaring at him through her tears.

"So I hurt him...hurt his children, that I bore for him, like a good little breeder!" she
sneered, "I laid with every man I could, and THAT got your notice, didn't it, Wilek?!

"Your poor brother was...in pain, his wife had cuckolded...him, had given...up on his children,"
Thrysta gasped out, sobbing, burying her face in her hands, "all because...because you
took yourself from me, from giving...me the chance...you gave to every other girl!"

"If...if you wouldn't love...me, wouldn't...notice me...then I wanted...wanted to make...
...make you hate...make you...hurt...", she hissed, sobbing, "I did it...made you hate me...

"...because you wouldn't let me...give me...wouldn't..."

At this, Thrysta collapsed into Wilek, clutching at his tattered tunic, sobbing into his chest
as she buried her ravaged face in the torn, stained fabric.

Wilek tensed, his hands finding the ground for support as the little priestess pressed into him,
clutching at him.

He blinked rapidly, his mouth working, searching for something to say, some reply, some defense,
something...anything. He raised his arms, unable to extricate himself from the clutching,
sobbing Forsaken woman.

Finally, he drew his arms around Thrysta's frail body, embracing her as he mumbled.

"Oh mercy, Thryssy girl...this...you...what I...I...I didn't...know...didn't think..."

Thrysta straightened up, still crying softly, looking up into his face as he embraced her.

"It...it would have been good, Wilek...so very good...I loved you, I would have been so good
for you," she whispered, tears streaming.

Wilek blinked, then blinked again...and again. He swallowed, his voice hoarse with emotion
as he responded.

"Yeah...yeah, darlin'...I never thought...never looked...never noticed...you. You were
Yarvick's girl. Hell, from the time we were boys...I...never thought...shoulda seen it...

"You...you hurt 'em...because a' me...aw, darlin', no...I just...never..."

Thrysta's taloned hand reach up, cupping Wilek's jawline, stroking the dead, dry flesh.

"We would have been good, Wilek," she repeated softly, struggling to keep from sobbing openly.

"Aw darlin'..." Wilek whispered, his wet eyes locked on hers, "I do...I do reckon you're right."

"But now..." he continued, trailing off.

"...but now I'm damaged, I...do things, terrible things," Thrysta finished for him.

Wilek nodded silently.

The two forsaken sat together for some time, embracing near the graves.

Again, it was Wilek who broke the silence.

"You...you can't stop...can't stop what you do, can you darlin'?" he murmured, holding the frail
priestess.

Thrysta shook her head, fresh tears spilling.

"I...things get...clear...and then, then...they cloud over...I do things, horrible things...
...I can't stop, Wilek...it's inside me, the need...what I do..."

Reluctantly, she pulled from his embrace, rising to her feet as she move off to stare at the town
that lay below them.

Wilek rose as well, looking at her standing there.

"I'm not strong enough to stop you, am I, darlin'?" he said softly, just loud enough for her to hear.

Thrysta hung her head, shaking it slowly.

"No, Wilek...you are not," she answered, her voice tinged with despair.

A hint of a smile passed across his face, but faded just as quickly as it had come.

"Thryssy girl, I...I only had one reason for stickin' around and that was to...deal with you..."

Thrysta smiled sadly, turning around to face him.

"I'm sorry, Wilek. I'm sorry for everything. For the pain I caused you in life, for what I did
to my family, to the ones you'd cared for more than I...I am so very, very sorry."

Wilek shook his head, his hands moving to rest on the hilts of his knives.

"Me too, darlin'...I didn't mean to hurt you like I did. I didn't know...it...this coulda been
different, huh?" he murmured.

Thrysta nodded softly.

"Yes, it could have, Wilek...I wish it had."

"Yeah, darlin', that makes two of us," he responded, drawing his knives, "Will you do me a favor,
girl?"

Thrysta raised her taloned hands, readying a prayer.

"Yes, Wilek...just ask it."

"Yarvick...Tira...Tylar..." he murmured.

Adopting a combat stance, knives raised, he finished his request.

"Bury me with 'em, darlin'."

"Yes, love."

Wilek smiled sadly, then lunged at her.

His blades leading, he had almost closed the gap between them when Thrysta's prayer tore his
mind apart.

He was dead before he hit the ground in front of her.

Thrysta threw back her head, screaming into the night, crying desperately as she collapsed
to her knees. She gathered Wilek's body into her arms, cradling it lovingly, tears falling
onto Wilek's face as she shut his vacant eyes with a soft gesture.

"Rest, love...rest..." she moaned, holding him.

Finally, she rose. She rose to bury him. To bury him with her family. With his family.