Kitiria Hates the Undead

In which our stalwart, fey-like champion of all that is good celebrates yet another birthday with some very unlikely friends.

~Silvorfithrade~

Kitiria scowled as she glanced at the crumbling ruins around her. Disgusting, she thought with a shudder as she watched countless undead milling about in the courtyard about twenty feet under the balcony that currently served as her rather rickety seat. "I don't care how many languages they can speak or how much magic they can use," she grumbled to herself. "They are NOT people. Terrible ... rotting ... foul ... despicable ..."

She slipped off of the railing as she felt the stone crumble beneath her armored fingers. "What an awful place ..."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"Shut up, Gatsuga." Kitiria hurled a jagged rock at her Tauren companion, who raised his eyebrows as it bounced harmlessly off of one horn and skittered away on the dusty floor.

"No need for violence, Kit," the druid said with a snicker as he plopped down on the disintegrating floor. Two seconds later, a small tree stood rooted in his place, swaying in a strange sort of dance.

"Stupid tree huggers."

"That's not nice either."

"I hate this place."

"I'm sure Drak would appreciate you calling her entire race foul and despicable."

"Sure, she'd take it as a compliment. Especially the 'rotting' bit." Kit brushed a pale hand against the wall. "Where is she, anyway?"

Gatsuga managed a rather tree-like shrug that rattled the few leaves he had left on his branches. "I'm not sure. She said she had to go restock on poison and pick up something from a friend of hers. She probably got distracted by a multicolored cockroach or something."

"Speaking of getting distracted ..."

A winking undead girl materialized in front of Kitiria with a maniacal grin. "Happy birthday, Kit. Did you think I'd forget?"

Kitiria suppressed a groan as she accepted a mottled grey box from her unlikely friend. "I wish you'd stop doing that. Why can't you just walk up and say hi like normal people?"

"Cause then I'd never get to see you squeak and jump like that." Drak's yellow eyes glinted mischievously. She was strangely playful for someone who was already dead, Kitira thought dryly. Sure enough, Drak pawed at her shoulder with bony hands in excitement. "Oh come on, open it!"

"Yeah, Kit! Open it!" Gatsuga mimicked, pawing wildly at the air, first with branches, then with actual paws.

"Why do I travel with you two?" Kitiria lamented as she felt gingerly around the ominous little box for a latch. Her fingers slipped across a tiny indention and suddenly stuck fast to her gift. "Drak? Drak, what's going on? Drak! This isn't funny! Make it let go!"

As if on cue, the box exploded and a flood of bats shot out, temporarily surrounding the hapless elf with a living cloud of wings and fur. Kitiria screeched shrilly, and several undead passersby paused to watch in amusement as the elf thrashed frantically. "GET THESE LITTLE RATS OUT OF MY HAIR!"

Then, the bats flew away, and a bottle with a tankard tied to it dropped harmlessly into her lap. Drak shrugged. "I figured you'd want booze after the show. Was I right?"

Gatsuga howled with laughter as Kitiria drew her sword and chased Drakonsabre around the mouldering courtyard. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, ZOMBIE! I HATE BATS! I HATE THEM! I'M GOING TO SLICE YOUR HALFWAY DETACHED HEAD OFF AND BURN IT IN THE BELLOWS! I DON'T CARE HOW DEAD YOU ARE, I'M GOING TO FINISH THE JOB, YOU SICK, DERANGED CREATURE! I'M GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN, YOU AND YOUR FUTURE HALF-DEAD TROLL BABIES, AND I'LL MASSACRE YOU ALL! I HATE BATS!!!!!!"

Shrugging absently, the bewildered shoppers of Undercity turned away and went about their business.