Greetings and Thank You for looking into this story. I wrote this randomly to tell the tale of my main character on World of Warcraft, Marivel (Hyjal Server), and how she became an undead. This takes place during the Burning Crusade expansion pack. Rated Mature for graphic violence and probable adult scenes in the later chapters. This IS ultimately a love story between Marivel, a Night Elf turned undead (think Sylvanas), and Theridan, a High-elf turned undead. This is a rough story, not polished by any stretch of the imagination! Hope you like it!
UPDATE: (10/19/10) Chapter 18 is finally written! Only took me a year and a half . Fail on my part! Life has been crazy. (5/06/09) I rewrote chapters 14-17 and added nearly a full chapter of writing between them all. Currently Editing and intend to publish sometime this week. I moved recently and don't have the internet at my new apartment yet so... we'll see. Thank God for Libraries. (1/20) I fail at updating. But I pushed out three chapters at once since I can assume, for the few people reading this, it sucks to only be able to read a couple pages at once. Still feeling uneasy about the story line and since my normal editor is off in Basic Training (I miss him!), I have no clue how it looks to anyone on the outside.(12/23) Has it really been so long since I last updated? Sheesh! I have one chapter finished, and im working on the next. I am hoping to post a few chapters at once. We'll see. I'm on vacation right now for the holidays so who knows when this'll happen! Sorry I'm a procrastinator :p I blame the Xpac! (09/12) Edited Chapter 6 (Marivel's "end") to allign it more with actual lore. (09/10) I'll try to be a little more... quick with the next chapter. (08/18) Life has been very difficult recently... I just started on Chapter 13. I'm suddenly not liking the story line, but I'll still write it. Sorry if it sucks. (07/08)I'm going over the first few chapters and fixing things. Might be a few days until I finish Chapter 12. (07/02) Chapter 11 is up. I was and still am very iffy on how it turned out though. Soon as I actually get some sleep, I'll get to working on chapter 12. Thank you guys for all the awesome reviews! (07/01) Been feeling really out of it and sleepy. Going to try and get some writing done today though. (06/24) Added Chapter names. When YoMuM replied to the chapters, I found I couldn't remember what happened in them by just a number which gave me the incentive to actually name the chapters (Which I've been meaning to do for a while) Thanks!
A soft scent floated through the air, permeating it with the intoxicating fagrance of gentleness. It cut cleanly through the tense peace that had come to be the normal feel in the N'aaru city. As it floated to the back of the inn that sat upon Scryer Tier, it pulled a seemingly young priestess out of a sorry excuse for sleep. Her eyes did not open as she was tugged away from tearful dreams and nothing but a slight quickening of her breath signaled her mind had begun to race. She lay still on the Blood Elfin styled beds for a few more seconds, slowly realizing that the horrors she'd been witnessing moments earlier were simply a dream. With a small sigh she sat up, rubbing the back of her neck absently.
She did not have to look to know what she was smelling. For the first several decades of her life, the only air she had ever known carried this specific scent. Her eyes still closed, she could hazily see the beautiful towers, crystal clear pools, and fragrant flowered gardens of Darnassus. It had been so long since she had seen it with her eyes.
Sure enough, as her eyes edged open they fell upon a beautiful Night Elf woman chatting away with the Blood Elf inn keeper. The priestess sat still and watched her carefully for some time. The incense's wonderful fragrance was strong and still hung thickly around her. She must have only been in the city moments before and used a binding stone to come to this forsaken world.
The priestess felt a twinge of jealousy for her living counterpart. Anger surged through her cold, dead heart as her eyes narrowed. No doubt that the elf took the blessing of being allowed to travel into the city freely completely for granted.
After another minute, she pulled her thoughts and eyes away to look down to her back pack. She took out her time piece, a reward from a goblin whom she had returned some crazy gadgets to months before. It was still an hour before she normally awoke, but it was never too early to start her day. As her body began to rouse sleeping limbs, she subconsciously glanced around. Her eyes gazed across all different races and types of fighters and healers and even merchants on the beds of the inn, sound asleep. Somewhere to her left, one of them was making such a horrible racket snoring that she couldn't imagine having slept through it. As her eyes took in the Human and the Draenei who slept on either side of her, any want her body or mind had in it to sleep more was quickly dispelled. She frowned in disgust.
Roughly grabbing her bag and swinging it over her left shoulder, she stood up and briskly walked out. She didn't have to be a trained hunter to notice how the Night Elf quieted herself as she walked past nor how she instinctively moved closer to the table to give a wide berth. The newly awoken lady thought little of it. She was used to the strange looks, the spits of disgust, the horrified stares, and the parents hiding their children away, but she no longer cared. Like any of those once living and turned undead, she had learned long ago how to cool her heart to these things; you would grow mad with grief if you didn't.
Clearing the threshold, she was glad to find the sun had yet to rise. Very few vendors and merchants out and thus almost no people. She let out a breath that she was holding with a sigh, her tense body relaxing. A beautiful pink and purple sky was beginning to creep over the towers of Shattrath and the forest that surrounded it on the East. Turning to her left, she began to walk towards the lift that would take her down to the Terrace of Light and from there continue her walk to the Lower City Stables.
A fairly strong breeze passed her as she glided silently along the terrace. The light that shown from her eyes, which used to be called beautiful, were set upon a perfectly formed banshee body and glinted off the surface of a fountain. The arcane magic that powered the fountain caressed her senses softly, a slight yearning rising within her for more. Though she was not to be mistaken with the arcane hungry blood elves, there was a friendly yet icy feeling from the shadow and holy magic coursing through her body that she loved. Magic was one rare thing that didn't care whether you were undead or living, elf or human, good or evil, and she cherished its lack of prejudice.
The empty lift rose to a stop against the terrace with a nearly nonexistent shudder and the priestess stepped aboard. Moments later, the automated platform began to descend. Smoothly, it came standstill at the bottom where its lone occupant stepped off. She walked past the bank, where another undead stood rummaging like an animal through his deposit box. He glanced up feraly at the small disturbance she created on the ground where she walked. His eyes narrowed slightly showing his disgust. Banshees, such as the priest strolling past him, were fairly rare. Most of the Elves that were unlucky enough to have been touched by the same undeath that had reanimated his own rotten flesh turned into ghastly beings with small variant of their former selves. But some, no one knew exactly why, ended up like the Forest Trolls of the Plague lands, Deathknights, or, more famously, like Sylvanas Windrunner, the former High Elf Ranger-General of Silvermoon City; they looked identical to their former living selves except for certain eye, skin, and hair discolorations.
What bothered him was that most banshees of the Horde were dead High Elves. This woman looked exactly like one of the enemy, like an Alliance Night Elf. The only differences were her eyes were glowing yellow instead of the white-blue that a living Night Elf's should have been, her skin was white and nearly translucent as opposed to the dark purple it probably once was, and she walked with the body language of one whose blood ran with the cold anger and hate that plagued all the undead- one who surrounded their heart with ice. Otherwise, she looked just like a Night Elf: her flesh was still perfectly formed, her hair hung soft and long.
Her appearance caught her many looks like this one. She was rejected by both the living and the dead, but she had learned to accept this. She was better off in this line of work without many attachments.
Her boots padded on the ground stealthily as she walked down the ramp into the Lower City. She turned left at the bottom where the stone of the terrace met the soft grass of Lower City. She passed and gave a small nod to those who sought out more Horde warriors, whom she considered herself loosely allied with, to join the endless fight against the Alliance for territories, resources, and ancestral claims. The shops and stands to her right were already beginning to open up, expecting crowds to be bustling within a few hours. She was glad to leave now. She didn't want to deal with any more today than she already had.
After a few minutes of walking, she walked into the large stables built into the north eastern wall of the city. As she entered through a Draenei style archway, the smell of some twenty different creatures greeted her. The stable was made of one long strip of stalls with three more branching off beyond the city walls, under the ground that Lower City was dug into. Making her way to the middle branch-off where the largest stalls were built, she stopped at the seventh set. Unlatching the door her gaze met that of a shimmering Dragon whose nether energies had been forged into its genetics long before it had hatched from its egg. He lifted his head and yawned as she opened the door. Stretching, he stood up from the hay he had been sleeping on. This dragon, just as its priest, was a rare breed. While most nether drakes were of the Black dragon flight, this particular one was a son of Alexstrasza; a red nether drake.
The meeting of the Priestess and the drake was a pure and amazing coincidence. Though raised to become a great priestess sworn to the absolute and selfless service of her people, she now used her magic for what she decided to be right and correct. For this reason, though abnormal for a priest of her stature, she often took up assassination and extermination tasks for her own benefit or if the cause was worthy. Upon a trek into some mountains which had thousands of natural rock spires giving them the name "Blade's Edge Mountains," she accepted such a task to trap the spirits of hostile nether drakes with a shaman's totem. The half-orc half-ogre shaman wanted her to bring them to him so he might free them from their warped existence.
As she had walked through the barren and dusty land, she came upon the area the shaman spoke of. The southern-most area of the plateau on which she walked was filled with magical energies, turning the very air blue. There, after killing a few, she stumbled across the red nether drake that was being attacked by the drakes she was hunting. Fighting the hostile ones off, she turned her attention to the red drake. Wounded both in body and spirit by other drakes that rejected it, it did not attack her. Feeling a compelling sense of compassion and curiosity, she healed its physical wounds with her holy magic, but its spirit would take much longer to heal. After that day, they traveled together, their only companions being each other. They spoke of many things, killed many, helped many, and grew to be what many would call friends.
As she led her dragon out, the stable care taker gave an awed look at the rarity of her friend. She ignored it as she ignored all the other looks and took out a few glinting gold coins. Handing them to the man without stopping, they continued until they were outside. She looked up to her friend, rubbing his neck. He sniffed the air and looked at her. "What is that smell on you?"
She glanced back in the direction of the inn, which was blocked by the walls and towers of the city. "A place which no longer welcomes me, Athestrasz." He lowered his head in a half nod as Marivel took a basic bridle from her pack and fastened it around the dragon's head. Athestrasz knelt low, allowing the priestess to climb onto his back. He stood back up, his rider shifting her weight. She settled into place, shifting her skirt, the drake's neck pulling it up to just above her knees to reveal her lithe but ghostly pale legs. She sat for a few moments thinking as she twisted her slender fingers around the split reins she used for non-verbal guidance. Finally raising her head, she spoke a simple word. "Nagrand."
The drake crouched for a split second before it sprang hard into the air. Its nether-webbed wings spread out catching the air in them and began to flap, bringing the two up into the air. The priestess leaned to the left, anticipating the turns and the drake moved quietly through the air. She cherished the feel of flight as the air whipped her hair violently about her. The magical energies that were fused into her clothes and weapons streamed out, mixing with the energies that flowed out of the very drake she rode, leaving a glowing trail behind them.
As she flew past the Terrace of Light and towards the western wall of the city, a young rogue stepped out of the inner sanctum that housed A'dal, the N'aaru leader of Shattrath. He just managed to catch a small whisper of sound which alerted him to her presence, some hundred yards above. Glancing up, the trailing energies of the dragon were just visible against the pale dawn sky. He paused a moment to watch them vanish, ever careful and alert of his surroundings. As the drake flew over the western wall of the city and over the bordering cliffs, he turned back to the Terrace of Light and began to head off towards the stables.