Silence by Abric

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Silence by Abric

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Silence

Abric - October 11, 2005

Silence.

It was a word that described the poetical, double edged sword. It
gave me life as it gave me death. In its embrace I move unseen.
In its trap I am a lamb to the slaughter. It is a lover of mine,
even now, after my change. During the attack, it was my favored
companion. It saved me, protected me, and kept me from harm.

I worship it as a God. A metaphysical being with intelligence and
foreseeing I would never truly understand. I must give to it my
all, for if I do not I will fall out of favor. I will lose that
which I hold so dear.

Silence.

Even now, I give to it a sacrifice. A dwarven woman, stout with
braided hair. She wore the vestments of the Light, and garments
of battle. She knew I was here, she had sensed me; her divine
influence gave her an edge few had. It would not save her,
though. While she may be enlightened to her cause, I had
something on my side that was not banished by Light.

She paced erratically across the main room of Silverwing Hold.
She had been no bout been instructed to guard this place, just as
I was to infiltrate it. There was information the Warsong wanted;
plans, rosters, and supply lists. A group of us had been
instructed to grab these items from whoever protected them. Of
course, I care little for what others want. I was not here for
petty fights or useless information. This was my sacrifice, my
atonement, my drive. This priest would be my focus, and her death
would be mine to choose.

Silence.

No matter where you were, shadows followed. In this 'great'
forest of Ashenvale, shadows were as plenty as the trees and
bushes. It was these shadows which hid me. From one to the other,
I moved closer to my dwarven priestess. She had finally stopped
pacing, feeling false comfort with the presence of some human
Kirin Tor who joined her in the defense. He was of no matter to
me, though. A fool who, even as I kept upon my priestess, feasted
on battle rations to replenish his strength. SHE was my target.
SHE was who I would take for my own. My sacrifice was within
reach.

I resisted the urge to reach out to her. To touch her, caress her
skin, feel her hair. What I was thought only of flesh, but not
the carnal desire I once indulged. It was the undead thirst to be
living; to bring the warmth again to my insides. Only by
devouring life, would I feel life. To devour their flesh as one
would a cooked pheasant. To gorge on it as a starving man would;
to drink their blood as mother’s milk. But, I was not here to
feast.

My claw-like hands stayed their course, reversing the grip of the
daggers they held. I was almost on top of her, my dwarven
priestess. The warmth of her was felt on my dead skin; the
satisfying taste of sweat rolling down her brow touched my
tongue. It was hard to focus in such close proximity; but I was
no fool peasant to fall prey to its call.

Silence.

It was a simple action to strike the pommels of my dagger to the
thick skull of my priestess. In an exhale of breath, she crumpled
to the ground. While I did not kill her, she would be momentarily
disabled. The mage, of course, saw his companion fall, jerking up
to a standing position. He was no fool, for he whispered a word I
did not understand, but I somehow knew.

Assassin.

He attempted to call upon his magic, I knew for my bones vibrated
as the arcane collected around him. Though I would never again
find pleasure in heat or cold, I was not immune to its effects.
The temperature around us started to drop, ice crystals were
forming around the mage. The mechanics of this spell I did not
know; but the after effects I did. He was slow, though, too slow.
Six paces were between us, and in a mere blink of his eye there
were none.

The mages spell was disrupted as I seemed to materialize in front
of him. The pommel of my right dagger connected with his temple,
just as the blade of my left entered the meaty portion of his
thigh. He gasped, caught by the surprise and pain of my initial
attack. The amount of times my blades entered his body would
forever be unknown to me, but I knew it did not take that many to
end his life. Even as my body became covered by frost and ice,
the mages magic did not save him. He was dead before he knew it;
his body fighting it, but losing.

Sacrifice.

The dwarf priest was starting to collect herself; I heard her
moan and attempt to stand. I also heard the rest of her
companions coming up a ramp nearby. They spoke words that I once
knew, but now did no. They were very close, so I knew my time was
over.

Yet... the dwarf priestess still lived. I went to her, pressing
my body against hers. Lips I would never again truly utilize
brushed against her ear; past the sweat in her hair, past the
taste of the unknowing aura that surrounded her. I knew she would
not understand my words, she was not meant to. They were for me
and me alone.

"You will be my sacrifice, sweet one. You will be my ascension
once again.”

I left her there, with the mutilated body of the mage. She was
found like this, by the rest of her party. The cause of what
happened would be unknown to them, for I was no more. I was a
shadow. I was with my God. Its embrace once against caressed me
with invisible hands and tempting words.

Silence.
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