A dark figure crouched atop the tombstone, perfectly balanced despite the driving rain, staring at Stuart. At least he thought she was staring, the cowled metal skull mask barely moved, its black eyes just watched him work. The person was obviously female, and most likely human, from the shape betrayed by her dark armor, but she wore no colors marking her as a member of any faction of brigands or military groups.
Stuart could barely see her, only a shadowy shape, unless a flash of lightning lit the area. When that happened the light reflected off of the terrifying mask, the grinning skull. Every stroke of lightning, each crack of the thunder, made him jump. His eyes playing tricks on him, making him see the figure lunge for him, that dagger held high to drive into his heart. She never moved, not even a flinch, she just watched him dig.
You had to have one more drink in the tavern... had to spend that extra half hour... Stuart thought to himself.
He had been hurrying back to Menethil Harbor from his journey to Ironforge after going to sell some fish he caught that morning. Hurrying because he took that extra drink from his dwarven friend. Hurrying because, while the wetlands were Alliance lands, they were far from safe... and his delay caused him to be caught on the road as the sun hid behind the horizon.
The storm only slowed his journey more, and he was vigilant to keep his eyes open for crocolisks wandering near the road, or groups of gnolls from the swamps, or orcs from the hills. Normally the roads were safe from such incursions, but there were the stories of people being dragged away by one of those dangers.
He never even heard this one though... even after she pounced on him from behind. She wrapped her arm around his neck, and brought the black dagger in front of his face, running it gently over his skin. Stuart wanted to fight her off, but he could feel the leather armor press against his back and his fists would do no good against it. So he surrendered immediately, without a struggle, thinking of his two children that awaited him at home.
Give it what it wants and maybe you will live to see Julia and Morganna again... he thought to himself as he raised his arms in compliance.
The attacker spun Stuart around, grabbing him by the collar roughly, the grinning metallic skull mask staring into him. She never said a word, merely tilted her head to the side a bit, much like a dog does when it watches something curiously. After a few moments, she spun him around again and shoved him forward, walking him along the road for another few miles.
As they came upon the old cemetary near the crossroads that led to the Harbor and to the Highlands, she stopped him. She only looked at him and gestured toward the graves, toward a simple shovel that rested against a tombstone, barely visible in the downpour.
"You want me to dig?" Stuart asked, his voice starting to shake with fear.
Light she is going to make me dig my own grave...
The woman merely motioned for Stuart to get to work with a nod of her head toward the shovel and the graves...
Parting Ways
Parting Ways
Last edited by Anaie on Fri Apr 05, 2013 5:08 am, edited 2 times in total.
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.
Re: REPOST: Parting Ways
Perched on the tombstone, Anaie watched the human work in the driving rain. He was growing exhausted, but he worked on. She could see his lips moving in silent prayers as he dug, could hear him occasionally say the same words over and over.
Names perhaps? Your children? Your wife? she wondered. Perhaps you will see them again...
The rogue was not sure what she would do with him.
He was smart enough to not struggle, to not make this difficult. He did not cause any trou...
Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of the shovel striking wood.
Hopping down from the stone, Anaie slowly walked to the hole. She crouched down beside it, ignoring the human who seemed happy to have a brief rest. Standing up quickly, she pointed her blade at the man, and back to the hole.
"Clear the coffin." she said flatly, knowing the man could not understand her at all.
He nodded in reply, understanding what the rogue wanted, his eyes widening a bit as he heard her voice for the first time. The man jumped down into the hole and continued his work.
It did not take much longer before he was done, the small coffin fully cleared of earth. She gestured for him to lift the contents of the grave up to her, to which he complied.
Where it all began... Anaie thought back on the night she first broke free as she ran a gloved hand over the decaying casket. She remembered that night so clearly now, how similar it was to this night. She remembered breaking the childs mothers neck, murdering the rest of the people there, nearly killing Laurel. It would have been easier to have killed her then...
Looking down at the man in the grave still, Anaie slid her mask up revealing her face. It was not decayed like many of the Forsaken, but her race was clear to him based on the wide eyed terror that took over. Smiling softly, she extended her gloved hand to him to help him from the hole, nodding.
The human was reluctant at first, but he took her hand soon enough and she easily lifted him from the hole. Anaie gently stroked the mans cheek as the rain continued to pour down on them.
It is time to let him go now.
She smiled again and took the man in a gentle hug, prompting the man to weakly smile as well in return. Anaie did not see his face or feel any type of remorse as she drove Plaguebringer into his back, directly into his heart. She just held him tightly as his body convulsed a few times and went limp.
Names perhaps? Your children? Your wife? she wondered. Perhaps you will see them again...
The rogue was not sure what she would do with him.
He was smart enough to not struggle, to not make this difficult. He did not cause any trou...
Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of the shovel striking wood.
Hopping down from the stone, Anaie slowly walked to the hole. She crouched down beside it, ignoring the human who seemed happy to have a brief rest. Standing up quickly, she pointed her blade at the man, and back to the hole.
"Clear the coffin." she said flatly, knowing the man could not understand her at all.
He nodded in reply, understanding what the rogue wanted, his eyes widening a bit as he heard her voice for the first time. The man jumped down into the hole and continued his work.
It did not take much longer before he was done, the small coffin fully cleared of earth. She gestured for him to lift the contents of the grave up to her, to which he complied.
Where it all began... Anaie thought back on the night she first broke free as she ran a gloved hand over the decaying casket. She remembered that night so clearly now, how similar it was to this night. She remembered breaking the childs mothers neck, murdering the rest of the people there, nearly killing Laurel. It would have been easier to have killed her then...
Looking down at the man in the grave still, Anaie slid her mask up revealing her face. It was not decayed like many of the Forsaken, but her race was clear to him based on the wide eyed terror that took over. Smiling softly, she extended her gloved hand to him to help him from the hole, nodding.
The human was reluctant at first, but he took her hand soon enough and she easily lifted him from the hole. Anaie gently stroked the mans cheek as the rain continued to pour down on them.
It is time to let him go now.
She smiled again and took the man in a gentle hug, prompting the man to weakly smile as well in return. Anaie did not see his face or feel any type of remorse as she drove Plaguebringer into his back, directly into his heart. She just held him tightly as his body convulsed a few times and went limp.
Last edited by Anonymous on Tue Dec 16, 2008 12:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.
Re: REPOST: Parting Ways
The rogue lowered the man to the ground slowly, gently and stared at him. She could smell so many things, the freshly dug earth and the scent of his blood standing out the strongest.
How peaceful you seem... she mused to herself as she brushed his soaked hair away from his forehead. Gone are all your troubles, your worries. Now there is only sleep.
Gathering the body up in her arms, she turned and walked to the nearest marsh. She waded into the water up to her waist, unfazed by the crocolisks that were no doubt nearby. Anaie set the body amongst some weeds before turning and heading back to the dug out grave.
Alone in the driving storm she stood for a few minutes, though it seemed much longer to her as she looked at the hole and the small simple coffin resting next to it. Nodding to herself, she lowered her mask and used her dagger to pry open the rotting wood.
A musty smell rose from the box as its lid popped off with ease, the contents inside nothing more than a small skeleton of a deceased baby. Anaie picked up the tiny skull and held it in her hand for a moment before a low, beastial growl rumbled forth from her lips. She tossed the skull into the dug out grave, and dumped the remaining bones atop it, before setting the coffin down and picking Plaguebringer back up into her hand.
Your lies did this to me... I will not let you gain any further joy from my torment. she looked to the north as she thought the words, toward the plagued lands.
With one last thought of her lover and her sister, Anaie plunged the dagger into her midsection, eviscerating herself above the small coffin.
How peaceful you seem... she mused to herself as she brushed his soaked hair away from his forehead. Gone are all your troubles, your worries. Now there is only sleep.
Gathering the body up in her arms, she turned and walked to the nearest marsh. She waded into the water up to her waist, unfazed by the crocolisks that were no doubt nearby. Anaie set the body amongst some weeds before turning and heading back to the dug out grave.
Alone in the driving storm she stood for a few minutes, though it seemed much longer to her as she looked at the hole and the small simple coffin resting next to it. Nodding to herself, she lowered her mask and used her dagger to pry open the rotting wood.
A musty smell rose from the box as its lid popped off with ease, the contents inside nothing more than a small skeleton of a deceased baby. Anaie picked up the tiny skull and held it in her hand for a moment before a low, beastial growl rumbled forth from her lips. She tossed the skull into the dug out grave, and dumped the remaining bones atop it, before setting the coffin down and picking Plaguebringer back up into her hand.
Your lies did this to me... I will not let you gain any further joy from my torment. she looked to the north as she thought the words, toward the plagued lands.
With one last thought of her lover and her sister, Anaie plunged the dagger into her midsection, eviscerating herself above the small coffin.
Last edited by Anonymous on Tue Dec 16, 2008 12:14 am, edited 1 time in total.
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.
Re: REPOST: Parting Ways
Pain. Physical pain greater than any she had ever felt before tore through Anaie's body. She wavered slightly as the her withered intestines spilled forth. Her legs shook, and the rogue looked to the sky, the rain coming down meeting with the tears streaking her face. She knew she could have ended herself in a much less painful way, but she wanted to feel herself end.
Her chest rose as she took in a breath, she could smell everything even as her vision started to fade to black. Her knees buckled and she tumbled forward, into the open grave, her dagger falling to the mud burying itself to the hilt.
As she lay dying in the hole with the pain assaulting her and her senses failing, the rogue smiled absently. Her final thought as she slipped into unconsciousness was that she would no longer be the Lich's toy, that she had escaped once and for all. Her days as a partially living and partially dead madwomen were over.
Her chest rose as she took in a breath, she could smell everything even as her vision started to fade to black. Her knees buckled and she tumbled forward, into the open grave, her dagger falling to the mud burying itself to the hilt.
As she lay dying in the hole with the pain assaulting her and her senses failing, the rogue smiled absently. Her final thought as she slipped into unconsciousness was that she would no longer be the Lich's toy, that she had escaped once and for all. Her days as a partially living and partially dead madwomen were over.
Last edited by Anaie on Fri Apr 05, 2013 5:09 am, edited 1 time in total.
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.
Re: REPOST: Parting Ways
The woman shot upwards from the mat with a gasp, her glowing yellow eyes wide and her breath a deep wheeze. Breathing heavily for a few moments Anaie slowly realized she was in a wooden building and sitting upright on a straw mat. She still had her black leather pants on but her chest armor and shirt were nowhere to be seen.
She felt odd... a bit lightheaded perhaps, but the feeling was difficult to describe. Last she remembered she had bled out in a shallow grave in the wetlands, a victim of her own blade. Her claws were dug into the wood floor tightly as she tried to figure out what had happened.
Why am I still alive...? the rogue thought to herself as she looked down at her exposed stomach and the stitches that held her flesh closed.
Looking about she saw a Forsaken male walking over toward her cautiously. "Anaie, is it not?"
The rogue nodded slowly, she recognized the man, he had trained her in the art of mending wounds.
Seeing the woman was not about to tear his throat out the man approached closer. "I am Doctor Gregory Victor, I sewed your wounds closed for you so that your body could undergo the transformation." He nodded proudly at the stitchwork he had done.
"Why did ya bring me back?" Anaie asked. "It was finally ovah."
The man smirked somewhat cruelly, "I did no such thing. I merely stitched you up so that the Apothecaries could use their rituals to raise you from the dead. They just chose to leave you here afterwards in my care, as not all survive the process of rebirth." The man gestured with a hand and walked over to a desk where he lifted a heavy backpack and carried it toward the her. "Your things, the orc that brought your body to us left them. That much of his words I could figure out.... quite a unique dialect he spoke, and my orcish is quite astounding."
Grog... she sighed softly at the thought of the orc. " 'e made you bring me back?"
The Doctor nodded, "He was quite upset. I thought he was going to tear my arms off at one point. He sought an immediate solution, whereas that is not really possible. I had to send off word to Undercity to get the Royal Apothecary Society to send someone trained in the necromantic rituals needed to return the dead to life... if you will. He left your belongings and some gold to cover the costs and I have not seen him since."
" 'ow long ago?" she asked, cracking her neck. She felt no pain or soreness from her abdomen, odd as before her pain senses were dulled but never gone.
"You have been here about a month. The R.A.S. took some time getting here, and then the necromancy took some time to fully take hold. There was some type of residual binding magic upon your body that had to be shattered. I had you stitched up neatly well before the RAS arrived." Again he smiled, proud of his work. "In fact now that you are awake, I can remove the stitches. The magic should have done most of the work in fusing the flesh together."
He stepped forward and produced a sharp blade to slice the stitching. Anaie did not flinch as he removed them, she just sat there staring, her eyes forward.
I can't face them... not now. she thought as the Doctor stood, finished with his task.
"You should be quite fine to depart whenever you see fit. You will find necromancy does wonders for the bodies strength."
Anaie nodded and pushed herself to her feet. She still felt odd, as if her body was not quite yet feeling all sensory inputs. She picked up her things, and left the building, making her way toward the Hammerfall Inn.
She felt odd... a bit lightheaded perhaps, but the feeling was difficult to describe. Last she remembered she had bled out in a shallow grave in the wetlands, a victim of her own blade. Her claws were dug into the wood floor tightly as she tried to figure out what had happened.
Why am I still alive...? the rogue thought to herself as she looked down at her exposed stomach and the stitches that held her flesh closed.
Looking about she saw a Forsaken male walking over toward her cautiously. "Anaie, is it not?"
The rogue nodded slowly, she recognized the man, he had trained her in the art of mending wounds.
Seeing the woman was not about to tear his throat out the man approached closer. "I am Doctor Gregory Victor, I sewed your wounds closed for you so that your body could undergo the transformation." He nodded proudly at the stitchwork he had done.
"Why did ya bring me back?" Anaie asked. "It was finally ovah."
The man smirked somewhat cruelly, "I did no such thing. I merely stitched you up so that the Apothecaries could use their rituals to raise you from the dead. They just chose to leave you here afterwards in my care, as not all survive the process of rebirth." The man gestured with a hand and walked over to a desk where he lifted a heavy backpack and carried it toward the her. "Your things, the orc that brought your body to us left them. That much of his words I could figure out.... quite a unique dialect he spoke, and my orcish is quite astounding."
Grog... she sighed softly at the thought of the orc. " 'e made you bring me back?"
The Doctor nodded, "He was quite upset. I thought he was going to tear my arms off at one point. He sought an immediate solution, whereas that is not really possible. I had to send off word to Undercity to get the Royal Apothecary Society to send someone trained in the necromantic rituals needed to return the dead to life... if you will. He left your belongings and some gold to cover the costs and I have not seen him since."
" 'ow long ago?" she asked, cracking her neck. She felt no pain or soreness from her abdomen, odd as before her pain senses were dulled but never gone.
"You have been here about a month. The R.A.S. took some time getting here, and then the necromancy took some time to fully take hold. There was some type of residual binding magic upon your body that had to be shattered. I had you stitched up neatly well before the RAS arrived." Again he smiled, proud of his work. "In fact now that you are awake, I can remove the stitches. The magic should have done most of the work in fusing the flesh together."
He stepped forward and produced a sharp blade to slice the stitching. Anaie did not flinch as he removed them, she just sat there staring, her eyes forward.
I can't face them... not now. she thought as the Doctor stood, finished with his task.
"You should be quite fine to depart whenever you see fit. You will find necromancy does wonders for the bodies strength."
Anaie nodded and pushed herself to her feet. She still felt odd, as if her body was not quite yet feeling all sensory inputs. She picked up her things, and left the building, making her way toward the Hammerfall Inn.
Last edited by Anaie on Fri Apr 05, 2013 5:12 am, edited 2 times in total.
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.
Re: REPOST: Parting Ways
Many months had passed since her "transformation" and her strength had indeed returned, if not grown. She had not seen anyone in more than passing since the event occurred, something that hardly concerned the rogue. She barely remembered disposing of the objects she considered to be from her weak-willed past, into the forge...
Her emotions had deadened significantly with the reanimation, not vanished, but much more easily suppressed. There were things she would still say she "loved", her sister for one, but these things were not the emotions that had so compromised her in the past.
No. Now she was in control of her actions and a smirk slowly formed on the rogues face...
If they thought I was a killer before...
Her emotions had deadened significantly with the reanimation, not vanished, but much more easily suppressed. There were things she would still say she "loved", her sister for one, but these things were not the emotions that had so compromised her in the past.
No. Now she was in control of her actions and a smirk slowly formed on the rogues face...
If they thought I was a killer before...
Last edited by Anaie on Fri Apr 05, 2013 5:13 am, edited 2 times in total.
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.
Re: REPOST: Parting Ways
The rogue looked upon the folded garment in her hands with a peaceful expression upon her face. The tabard of the Grim was stained and stitched in many places as evidence of the brutal battles she had seen while wearing its colors. The rogue sighed as she stood up from the edge of the bed she rented in the Inn hidden deep in the sewers of Dalaran.
She thought to herself as she walked toward the portals that would take her to Shattrath City and her sister's home.
She definitely does not need me to save her... she is easily as strong as I and she is secure in the ranks of the Grim.
Anaie knew she was right in her thoughts, no one was truly safe in these times, but to be a member of the Grim meant that there was an army at your side at all times. Syreena did not need her to be around to protect her, Anaie doubted she ever really did actually...
Before the rogue knew it, she was standing before the home of her sister, the yelps and sounds of a multitude of pets greeting her presence. Syreena was nowhere to be found, but Anaie knew her sister would know what her leaving her the tabard meant.
"Many of em tink yer are a bit simple sistah... but I know bettah." Anaie grinned, as she spoke the words softly. Her sister was one of the coldest killers in the Grim, she had seen it first hand many times.
Anaie bent and set the folded garment down on her sister's bed and turned and walked away. No note needed to be left, no words exchanged. They would fight beside each other still, but Anaie had other duties to attend, that required her to be outside of the Grim... as much as it broke what small amount of heart she had.
She thought to herself as she walked toward the portals that would take her to Shattrath City and her sister's home.
She definitely does not need me to save her... she is easily as strong as I and she is secure in the ranks of the Grim.
Anaie knew she was right in her thoughts, no one was truly safe in these times, but to be a member of the Grim meant that there was an army at your side at all times. Syreena did not need her to be around to protect her, Anaie doubted she ever really did actually...
Before the rogue knew it, she was standing before the home of her sister, the yelps and sounds of a multitude of pets greeting her presence. Syreena was nowhere to be found, but Anaie knew her sister would know what her leaving her the tabard meant.
"Many of em tink yer are a bit simple sistah... but I know bettah." Anaie grinned, as she spoke the words softly. Her sister was one of the coldest killers in the Grim, she had seen it first hand many times.
Anaie bent and set the folded garment down on her sister's bed and turned and walked away. No note needed to be left, no words exchanged. They would fight beside each other still, but Anaie had other duties to attend, that required her to be outside of the Grim... as much as it broke what small amount of heart she had.
Last edited by Anonymous on Tue Dec 16, 2008 12:15 am, edited 1 time in total.
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.