"Because I am your older brother and I will always protect you." That was the promise Darcian made to his little brother, Adam. To always keep him safe now that their parents have passed away. Now he stands at his brother's grave lost deep in his thoughts.
It has been a year since his brother's death, but the pain in his chest felt as fresh as it did that tragic night. If only he had made it home faster Adam would still be alive and he, himself, would still be human instead of the beast he is now: a worgen.
Darcian's thoughts were interrupted when he heard foot step approaching him from behind. He turned to see it was Sister Krystia standing a short distance behind him.
She was young, beautiful woman who's appearance conflicted with the environment around her. She wore a pure white robe that contrasted with the darkness of the woods. Her long brown hair and eyes reminded him of Duskwood during the fall season before it fell to darkness.
"I do not wish to be disturbed Sister Krystia." Darcian said as he turned back to the grave."
"I would not bother you at such a private time if it wasn't important," she replied with a soft voice. "A group of undead approaches the camp. Many of our men are out on errands. We would like for you to take care of them."
"Where from?"
"The south."
He stood there for a brief moment taking one last look at the tombstone. Then, he turned around and walked passed her.
"I'm about to start light service shortly," she said after him. "It could help you greatly if you attend."
Darcian stopped, but did not turn to face her. "The light has left this place years ago, Sister. You're just wasting your time." With that, he continued to walk.
Though he hated the creature that he had become, he couldn't help but notice the significant enhancements to his being. His hearing has become much keener as he could hear Sister Krystia singing in the cathedral in Raven Hill. Her voice was so pure and angelic that it gave him a sense of peace. It tempted him, each time he listens to it, to attend her sessions, but he could not believe in the lights return. That belief had cost him dearly.
Halfway through the song he spotted the undead approach to the camp. He sighed in annoyance for no longer being able to enjoy her singing. He drew his sword and shield and charged at the group.
There were about two dozen undead. The numbers did not matter to him. With each swing of his sword he cut them down. With his shield he blocked all of their attacks. One after another their bodies fell at his feet till none was left standing. He examined the field of bodies to make sure none of them were still moving. After confirming they were all dead, he began to sheath his weapons when he heard a voice in the distance.
"With a group that large, I expected a few of them to inflict a couple of injuries. For you to remain unharmed, you know your way with the sword."
Darcian turned towards the voice. In the distance stood a tauren with fur and armor so black he almost melded into the darkness. His eyes, however, glowed a blue light that made it easier locate. He was a death knight.
Darcian raised his weapons. "What is a tauren doing here?!" He demanded. Races of the horde rarely come to Duskwood, but when they do it was to usually pass through to the Swamp of Sorrow. That was located to the west of Duskwood while Raven hill was to the far-east.
"I'm here because I have business with you," The tauren answered.
"With me? What business do you have with me?"
"That depends."
"Depends on what?"
The tauren drew his battle axe. "Depends on whether you're still alive in the next five minutes." With that said, the tauren began to make his way towards him.