Grim Views

The room was dark, and filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Siaraen pulled her cloak tighter around her face and tried to breathe softly to avoid retching. She looked at her companions, two colossal Taurens males, heavily armoured and hefting large swords; a lithe Troll huntress and an undead mage. The mage had introduced himself as Slagworth, although her other companions had merely laughed when she spoke to them.

"Not they understand Orcish?" she asked Slagworth after they had turned away.
"Something like that..." he replied, his rotting mouth peeling back in an amused smile.

"Let's go." Shouted one of the Tauren. Siaraen had to jog to keep up with their loping trot. Trying not to breathe too heavily, she adjusted her staff into a more comfortable position and followed them up the stairs. As they turned into another room, a rasping hiss came from the shadows and a corpse flung itself towards Siaraen, gasping, she recoiled and pulled light into herself, crafting a shield of light and staggering backwards into the wall.

Looking up, she saw a blade descend and part the corpse's head from it's bony neck. As the decapitated head hit the floor, the Tauren growled at her, "Be more careful." she nodded at him and released her shield, absorbing the light back into herself and looking around into the shadows.

The group made their way through the haunted Keep, dispatching the minions of the undead Lord Godfrey. Several times, her companions fell, close to death, and Siaraen infused their wounded bodies with light numbing their pain and closing their wounds. They would need rest and food once their task was complete, but for now, the healing enabled them to fight on.

Finally, they reached the chamber of Lord Godfrey. Siaraen bestowed fortitude on the party and crafted a light shield for the largest Tauren. Steeling themselves, they ran in to the room. The enraged Lord Godfrey leapt down the stairs to engage them, and was quickly surrounded. Roaring in anger, he called more undead minions to rise from the ground. Several of them approached Siaraen, clicking and hissing aggressively, she reached out with the light and flooded what remained of their minds with terror. Wailing, the ghouls ran away from her, clawing and the walls in and attempt to climb them and escape.

Lord Godfrey began to cast a barrage of arcane bursts, flinging the searing bolts around the room. Siaraen and her companions tried to dodge the torrent but Siaraen caught a blast to her calf and her companions also suffered burns. Hiding behind a broken-down wall, Siaraen crafted new light shields for each of them and quickly used the light to close their wounds and relieve their pain.

Siaraen heard a whoosh above her head and saw the Troll standing atop the broken wall, an arrow burst through the decrepit Lord's hand distracting him and ceasing his barrage. The undead turned his gaze toward the his attacker, anger rolling off him like a cloud. Siaraen grabbed the ankle of the Troll and pulled her down behind the wall as a blast of fire flew over their heads to shatter harmlessly against the wall. The Troll grinned at her and rolled to her feet, positioning herself to shoot arrows over the wall into the body of the Lord.

The two Tauren dispatched the remaining minions and turn back to Lord Godfrey, dodging his attacks and slicing at him from either side. Slagworth and his water elemental were sheltering behind another wall, casting magical barrages of their own and hurling them at their opponent.

The Lord, peppered with arrows and staggering from his many wounds, began to falter. Seeing a chance, the larger Tauren leapt forward and impaled him on his greatsword. As he fell he looked up at the Tauren, "I thank you for the clean death. I would not of done the same..." The Tauren snorted at him and wiped his sword on the Lord's robe before walking away.

Siaraen stepped forward, pulling a vial from her robes. She grabbed the dead Lord's hand and squeezed it, angling the stream of blood that welled up so it would trickle into the vial. She smiled at the thick, dark liquid, "Now for the Alliance..." she said in Thallasian.

The incessant twittering of a songbird woke Siaraen, she scowled at the bird. "Cease your prattling, useless thing!" she shouted at it, flinging a silken pillow at its cage. The pillow hit the bars, causing the bird to flutter around beating its wings and squorking in terror. She grimaced, "Somewhat better."

Looking at her hands, she realised she had fallen asleep without bathing and her hands were still stained with the brown-black blood of the Lord she had helped put to rest the night before. Thankfully her father and brother were still in Outland and her constantly-inebriated mother would have nothing to say about ruined sheets.

Someone had drawn her a bath while she slept, although the water was lukewarm at best. Her father had insisted on servants, useless as they were, to look after her mother, but more importantly to reinforce their newly gained status.

Siaraen washed and dressed quickly and managed to escape the manor without being seen. She made her way to Orgrimmar and spoke to the battlemasters to ask where her talents could be most useful in the battle against the Alliance. They laughed at her accent and sneeringly told her to make her way to Warsong Gulch, so long as she stayed out of the way, they doubted she could do more harm than good. Siaraen smiled politely and thanked them, inwardly seething.

As the reached the front lines of the battle, she scanned the motley group of soldiers, looking for a likely leader. Her gaze fell on a large, scarred Troll warrior. His armour was well-worn and adorned with skulls and other grisly trophies, and a necklace of teeth hung around his neck. Striding towards him purposefully, Siaraen pulled her hood back and looked up at the Troll.

"Heal you and your men, to kill Alliance and I take their blood?" She asked haltingly. The Troll chuckled at her poor attempts to speak Orcish and nodded at her.
"Jus' stay outta de way."

Siaraen followed the Troll closely, shielding him and his men, healing them when needed and taking away their pain temporarily. When they were surrounded, she filled their enemies minds with unspeakable terror allowing them to fall back and regroup. During lulls in the battle she brought water to the soldiers and bound their wounds. Restoring strength and fortitude whenever she could.

Whenever an enemy fell, she would pull a vial from her robes and fill it with their blood, the Troll watched her curiously at first, but quickly accepted it and did not ask why she took these strange trophies. As the day grew dark, she had collected her set of seven vials and turned her full attentions to helping push the enemy back.

In the twilight, as all were growing weary, Siaraen fell behind during a sortie. She heard a rustle beside her and turned to look. Seeing nothing, she readied her staff and tried to step forward, suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her flank and felt warm, liquid drenching the side of her robes. Looking down in shock, she saw a dark shape fade into the shadows. She cried out for help, and the Troll and his men returned, shouting at her for getting left behind. The Troll told one of his men to take her back to the camp quickly and she began to turn pale and blood began to trickle from her mouth.

"I poisoned..." Siaraen muttered weakly, "I..." she staggered. A strong hand reached down and pulled her onto the back of a raptor. "Le's get ju back to da camp, eh?" she heard through her delirium.

She awoke again in the base camp, her side felt swollen and tender although the wound had been cleaned. Placing a hand on her wound, she pulled light into her body and forced the poison out. Green and yellow pus oozed from the wound, she grimanced and continued until clean blood began to flow. Once she was satisfied that the pollution was cleansed from her body, she closed the wound and tried to numb her own pain.

Looking around, she realised that her robes had been removed. "Vials!" she cried, "Where is vials?" one of the Tauren shaman walked over to her, "Ah good, you are awake." the shaman handed her a wrapped package, "Here are your trophies. Reinforcements have arrived, so you are not needed for now. Go, and get some rest."

Siaraen looked up at the Tauren thankfully, "Al diel shala."

Gathering her package and donning her blood-stained robes, Siaraen made her way back to Orgrimmar to seek out her inquisitor with the seven precious vials wrapped carefully in her pack.

Greebo read with pleasure the reports coming in from the front lines and resolved to pay close attention to the enchantments he would be using on the young priestess' tabard, an attention worthy of the effort that she was clearly expending.