Author's note: Hey, everybody. This is my first time posting here, so if I goof up on anything, please let me know.

Anyway, this is the backstory for my WoW character, Drizelda. I didn't know what to make, and my friend (I was using her computer at the time) insisted I make a girl. An undead priest just seemed like the weirdest mix, so I made that. Then I started to think how priests could keep their powers after they were undead...

(Also, Drizelda is on the Alexstrasza sever, so if you play on that, she usually hangs around UC and Silverpine at the moment. I'm trying to quit though, so I'm not on too much anymore ;)

Drizelda awoke in cold, clammy place, that was dark and silent, save for the guttering of a torch in the corner. She seemed to be lying on a stone bed, and she had no idea where she was or why she was here. She sat, and on instinct, called, "Hello?" No response. She was in an empty, stone room that felt as if it were underground. "Hello?" No response. "HELLO??!?!" Only the sputtering of the torch greeted her. She thought back…she was supposed to have been on a ship…going back home… Beginning to panic, she tried to calm herself down. 'Ok', she told herself. 'No reason to be worried. I'm sure there's an explanation here to all of this.' As she got up and made her way across the room on legs that felt strangely unsteady, she told herself, 'Ok, think. What's the last thing you remember?'

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Drizelda thought back to her departure. She stood on the gangway up to the ship, waving her final goodbye to all the friends she had met. It had been a long six months, long and hard, but well worth it. Even now, she had become so accustomed to it that she could not believe she was leaving Avenglade. As she went below decks and began stowing away her things, she reflected on her time there.

She had barely had a moment to rest ever since setting foot in Avenglade. The Church of Hathor had recently decided to expand there, and it was only her and a few other devoted missionaries who had chosen to go, with no support, no knowledge of the town nor its people, and little money. Everyone from her abbey had scoffed at the choice, saying it was bad territory and impossible with no established church already there.

Drizelda smiled as she remembered her reply, 'How was the first church established before there was one?'

And establish one they had. They had all worked long hours on lowly jobs to afford the money for the building (she preferred not to remember that part, and quickly skimmed over it). Then, they had spent their time frequenting the town square, getting friends, and making themselves known (being a bookworm by nature, Drizelda never was very good at that). Enlisting help from the other clerics proved to be a mixed experience (that was the last time she ever looked twice at anybody from Lathan's group) but in the end, they rallied the support they had needed, and when the doors opened, things went better than any of them had expected. Despite her Sister's warnings from the abbey, it was actually very good territory, because there was a high Elf population, and Hathor had always been allied with the forces of nature. Things had been running smoothly for a month before she noticed that her pilgrimage was done. She had made so many new friends, despite her lack of social grace, that she had all but forgotten everything from before. Well, save one man…

She looked out the porthole, and realized that they had left the docks and they were no longer in sight. She thought back to her trip to Avenglade with a smile, remembering how she had been so nervous and preoccupied. Now, she was preoccupied with something else…

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She stumbled through the dark chamber, hearing only the guttering torch in the corner. She thought she saw, in the dim light, what looked like stone stairs carved into the wall in front of her, and hurriedly lurched towards them. 'Why don't my legs work right?' one part of her mind inquired. 'What happened then?!', screamed another

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Driselda looked out over the ship's railing, letting the fresh sea air blow through her hair and into her lungs. She was enjoying the ship, but she could hardly wait for the ride to be over. She was torn. On the one had, she was immensely pleased with how things had gone in Avenglade. Scrounging up the money for the building, desperately attempting to be social when she didn't have clue, and having to deal with other clerics when you never knew when they would be sympathetic or ready to bite your head off…those last few months had been the hardest time of her life. The real world came as a real shock after being locked up in an abbey for so long. But, the reward, the new church, the new friends; was also the most satisfying thing she had ever received. Well, except for Richard, of course.

She had tried not to think of him much the entire time. And every try was an absolute failure. She missed her family and friends back home, of course, but Richard was the worst. At times, she couldn't believe that she had left on this silly pilgrimage when she could be with him instead. Of course, those thoughts were foolish; he himself had insisted that she go. And, Hathor, it seemed, had been pulling her in that direction. Those thoughts had always been swept quickly away when something else came up for her to do but now, on the ship, there was nothing to keep her mind off of him.

And therein lay the problem. She laughed out loud, drawing some looks from the ship's crew. 'What a beautiful thing it is', she thought to herself, 'to be torn between amazing memories of all that's gone on these past few months, all my friends, and precious memories of my one and only Richard.' She whirled around, looked up into to the blazing sky above, and laughed to herself again. Everything was perfect. Hathor had truly smiled upon her. She made up her mind to stop thinking about the past and start thinking about the future. And that meant Richard. Lost in her daydreams, she went below decks, to her pack. At the very bottom, in a hidden pouch, was Richard's necklace. She clasped it tight, dreaming of her new life with him. Before she went to sleep, she thanked Hathor, for the umpteenth time that day, for giving her a man so wonderful.

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"Richard…" a wheeze barely left her mouth. "Richard, where are you?! Where am I?!" 'What happened?!' she screamed in her mind once more.