Flesh and Blood
Clys - November 8, 2005
Clys smacked her lips. It had been an interesting night. She had
awakened hungry, as usual, and went out to Hillsbrad to seek
fresh blood. Hunting had been good there recently, and she had a
craving for warm human blood. What was it about the humans that
called to her so, she wondered. All Alliance were fair game, of
course, but it always seemed to satisfy her more when the victims
were human.
She shrugged to herself. There were so many things in her past
that she could not remember. Anyway, the present was all that
really mattered, and it was time to feed. She fingered the points
of the two small fangs with which she had replaced her original
canine teeth. They were nice and sharp, she thought, and really,
they probably looked better on her than they ever did on the
vampire bat she had killed to get them. Not that she could see
herself, what with her eyes being missing and all.
Again, she shrugged. She didn't miss her eyes, really. She had
the "shadow sight," as she thought of it, the ability to sense
the shadows, feel their shapes, and make her body one with them
when needed. She could disappear into them, and attack from their
shelter.
She joined a large group of other Horde members outside Tarren
Mill. The Alliance had been attacking the city all day, and she
was sure she would find a ripe target or two. She grinned
wickedly, anticipating the carnage.
As she approached the front lines, she faded into the shadows and
began to stalk around the battlefield, seeking opportunities.
Many of the Alliance suddenly found themselves stunned, stabbed
in the back, and then viciously slashed to death. Cly reveled in
the bloodlust, her daggers like extensions of herself, dripping
with crimson.
Then a bold human strode to the front of the Alliance lines. His
body language spoke of defiance. He seemed to stick out from the
others. In the shadow sight, Clys noticed that he barely cast a
shadow at all. She snarled, her lips curling in a grimace of pure
hatred. She had seen him earlier, slaying her brothers and
sisters of the Horde, and he had escaped time and again.
"Strike him down!" the raid leader called, pointing. "Strike down
the Alliance scum, Sammuel!"
Clys struck, along with the others, and this time Sammuel fell.
Clys stood over his corpse, and knelt down. She ran her fingers
over his face, to get the look of him into her mind's eye. This
one, she wanted to remember. He would be trouble.
Then a strange craving came over her, one that she rarely
experienced any more...the craving for flesh, rather than blood.
She pulled at Sammuel's flesh, and began to feed.