I was lying on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood, with an arrow jutting out of my chest. I was in immense pain, and it was getting harder and harder to breath. My throat was collapsing, making me wheeze in the air, sucking up whatever energy I had left. The pain worsened, but that was the least of my worries. My vision was faltering, and everything was becoming increasingly blurry. I had to strain my eyes to see anything, and what I saw made my stomach flip over and do a barrel roll.

All around me my comrades lay on the ground, in a similar position that I was in. some were already dead, but some of them still clung onto life, if you could call it living. some of them still had there weapons in there hands, as if they wanted to get up and start fighting again, despite the position they were in. i too wanted to jump up and fight, but the whole arrow in the chest thing got in the way of that. I didn't even know where my bow was, and i had used my daggers already to kill an abomination. I had my fists, but that wouldn't do any good. I was an archer, not a warrior.

Blood filled my throat, making it even harder to breath. Stupid arrow. But I some how managed to lift up my head and look around. There were a few undead scouts running about, looters I guessed. But the bulk of the army had already advanced further towards the city. I hope they can hold them off.

I was beginning to think how ironic it was that i was killed by an arrow when I was a farstrider. I was a top notch archer, always hitting my target, yet here I was, an arrow jabbed into my chest. If only I hadn't been fighting off those abominations, I might have saw it coming. Eh, who am I kidding, even the ranger general went down.

Holy crap, the ranger general went down! Who's supposed to command the troops? I looked around, wishing I could see what was happening. The ranger general had been not far in front of me, fighting this weird looking guy with a crazed look on his face. Sylvanas Windrunner was good, but this guy was using spells that I've never seen before! He was raising people from the dead and sending them against us! Huh, I guess that's where the undead army came from. I wonder where he learned to do that.

Anyway, back to what happened. The ranger general was killed with the guys sword, and after that I don't know what happened. I was hit with an arrow not long afterwards, and I don't know where the general is. I wonder if she's still alive, maybe she lived? I don't know. She probably did, no one just goes up and kills the ranger general, it's a lot harder than you'd think. Not even Brightwing could beat her, and he was pretty good.

I heard horns in the distance, and I strained my ears to hear what was happening. they were definitely Silvermooon horns, but what kind I didn't know. There were only two things it could mean. It could mean that we were victorious and that we had beaten the undead, which would be good. Or it could beat signal for the troops to retreat, which mans we lost, which would be really bad.

I strained my ears, hoping to here the victory horns. My last wish is for us to have won the battle, and our people and the sunwell were safe. I wanted it so badly, I couldn't live with myself if I died for nothing. We had to have won, we just had to. So many people have died already, it couldn't have all been in vain! The ranger general died in this battle, her sacrifice couldn't have been for nothing! We had to have won, we just had to!

As I strained my ears so hard i thought they would pop, I heard the horns one again. my heart plumetted in despair, or maybe it was the arrow going though it. The horns were signaling retreat, we had lost. What would happen now? The enemy would take the city, take the sunwell what would we do without the sunwell? We needed it!

My back started to feel wet for some reason, and i tried to figure out why. I leaned my head to the side to try and see what it was, and then i saw that the pool of blood had gotten larger, much larger. Oh, right. Arrow in the heart, how do I keep forgetting? I lay back down once i remembered that I was dying, trying to calm myself, pushing away the troubling thoughts of what would happen to our people. They would be fine, they would regroup and take down the undead, no one could stop our arm. We were the best, after all, with or without the ranger general.

Well, her absence would definitely slow things down, but we could still take them! The second in command would take charge or something. Who is the second in command anyway? Wasn't it that Lor'themar guy? I don't know, maybe it was Brightwing.

My throat was full of blood, making it pretty much impossible to breath, and there was no way I would be able to speak. My mouth filled up with the red liquid, making me gag it out onto the ground next to me. Which didn't really do much since my mouth just filled right back up. It had a disgusting salty metallic taste to it, making me want to vomit. But I knew that wouldn't do any good. It was bad enough that I was dying, I didn't want to empty my stomach contents as well. But all of the blood really was getting on my nerves, I had to lean over every five seconds to spit it out. Wasn't death supposed to be peaceful and all? I guess that was another lie, just like the whole 'There's no such thing as undead' crap. What lies they taught us.

Anyway, dying, right. Sorry, my train of thought is always getting derailed. Sometimes it falls of the tracks and plummets into a bottomless pit. Like it just did. I tried to relax, going onto my back and trying to die peacefully, but I continued to gag up blood, ruining my tunic. The arrow was still jutting out of my chest too, I glared at it. As if that would do any good.

Then the blood started to stop coming, drying in my mouth. I felt weak, and I knew that there was basically no more blood to lose, except for the blood coming out of my chest wound. Any warmth that still lingered in my body was disappearing, seeping into the ground and being replaced with a deathly cold. My body started shaking, and I was wondering what was going on. Well, I knew what was going on, I was dying. I started to cough, and found that my voice was rough and cracked. Pieces of dried blood came out of my mouth, flying onto the ground. The shaking began to stop, and I realized that I couldn't feel my legs.

My thoughts began to get mixed up, all jumbled around in my head. I wanted to cough, I wanted to plead out for help, but I found myself unable to. All I could do was sit there and wait, there was no way I was going to be healed in time. I was certain that all of the priests were somewhere else, healing those that could be healed. I was pretty sure that i was done for by now. Well, at least I died fighting, whether it was in vain or not. I died serving my people, and i guess that was something to be proud of. I at least got to kick some undead ass, which was a victory to me.

I smiled to myself, which was hard since whatever blood was left in me was slowly leaking out of the corners of my lips, since I had apparently lost the ability to gag. I closed my eyes, they weren't much use now, everything had become really blurry now. There was no point in keeping them open.

I was about to die, all peaceful and everything. But the ground just had to start shaking. I don't know how far away the horse was, or how I could even feel the ground shaking now, but I knew there was a horse coming. My eyes shot open, hope rising in my chest. Maybe it was the priests, maybe they could save us! Maybe we had won, and I just hadn't heard the horns right. I strained my ears once again, trying to make out how many of them there were. But as far as I could tell there was only one horse, which was odd. Usually when reinforcements came, they came in bulk, especially when there was healing involved.

I forced myself to stay alive, just long enough to see what was happening. I wasn't hoping to live, I was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen, but I just wanted to know if we had won. If we had won, I could die happy, well relatively happy. Dying wasn't exactly fun, you know.

The hoof beats got louder and louder until i was sue that they were only twenty yards away at the most. I heard a horse neigh. Wait, we don't have horses, unless it was a paladin. Why would there be a hors- oh, that's why.

In front of me, sitting on top of a skeletal horse, was a grim looking man. He wore black armor, decorated with skulls mostly, and a helm covering his face, but his eyes were a bright shining blue, could he have been a high elf? maybe h had stolen one of the undead's mounts? Oh wait, scratch that.

He had taken off his helm, revealing long, ghost white hair, that was so brittle it looked like one touch would break it all. He had a sickly face, deathly pale face, and a grim smile on his face. His expression was some what like 'I enjoy killing you'. Bastard. He had this huge sword hanging from his belt. Wait a second, it looks really familiar. Oh. it's the sword that killed the ranger general. So that means- hes the bastard that brought the undead here! I wanted to get up and kick his ass, but I still couldn't feel my legs, plus I had no weapons, so all I could manage was a venomous scowl.

He kneeled down by one of my almost dead comrades and said some words that I couldn't hear into her ears. Some dark substance seemed to be sucked out of her, and she immediately turned pale and died. the substance went into a little charm that the guy was holding, and he went on to the next high elf he saw.

Whoa whoa whoa, what the heck was that? what had he done to her? What was that black substance? What was that charm he had? Look at me, nearly dead but I still have as much curiosity as a wild monkey on sugar rush.

All I could do was watch as the guy knelt down by every living high elf ranger and do the same thing over and over again: kneel down, whisper those funky words, and collect the substance. kneel down, collect substance. Collect substance, collect substance, collect substance. And as he did I became even more curious. Seriously, what the heck was he doing? What was that black substance? How was I still alive at this point?

Oh yeah, I'm still dying. How do I keep forgetting? Some how I think I was managing to stop the process, but only for a little. My energy was slowly ebbing away bit by bit, all being put into staying alive long enough to see what he was doing. I couldn't move, my body was frozen. The blood had stopped coming out of my wounds, and I felt even colder than before. But I managed, somehow. I had to find out what this man was doing, It was a burning desire that made me stay alive.

The man came closer and closer, doing the same thing over and over again. He had the same sick expression written on his face every time, as if this was the most fun he had ever had. And with every person that died, his Face got even worse. I wanted to look away, but i forced myself to watch, glaring at him as I did. Elf after elf died, collapsing to the ground as the black substance was sucked from them. What was that substance? Every time it was sucked away, the person died. what's up with that? I hated watching, but I forced my eyes to stay open.

Finally he came to me, the only elf who still had her eyes open. I was scowling at him, trying to put as much hate into my features as I could. He grinned as he stood over me. I guess this is it, I was going to get the life sucked out of me. He knelt down beside me, his charm in his hand, close to my face. He brushed some of my blonde hair out of my face, which was sticky with blood. I glared at him harder, wishing that looks could kill. Because if they could, this guy would have been demolished.

He laughed at this, a sick, venomous laugh that chilled me to the core. But it could have been that I was about to die and all.

"Your hate is really silly, elf," he said in a slick venomous tone that sounded like the voice of a snake "You are going to serve me for the rest of eternity, it's much easier if your do it willingly, trust me."

I wanted to spit at him, but I had nothing to spit. I tried to clear my throat to respond, which sucked up a lot of energy. I wanted to kill him, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.

I gathered up the last of my energy to say one last thing in response to him, "Go... to.. hell.. you... sick bastard..."

He grinned, seeming to be amused by my defiance. With the last of my energy gone, I let my head fall back onto the ground and my eyes slammed shut. I was ready for death. I let the rest of my body numb, and I felt my shoulder begin to shake. The muscles relaxed, and my shoulders rolled back. Darkness surrounded me, darkness that I welcomed.

But fate decided to be an asshole. I felt my self being ripped away from the darkness, as if my soul was being ripped away. Oh, so that's what that necklace was for. I tried to fight, tried to go back to dying, but it was too much. I was sucked out of body and thrown into a deep darkness, seeing nothing. It wasn't death, I still existed. But I wish I had died instead.