Sylvanas Windrunner
The thudding of those feet; coming closer, never stopping. Dropping to the ground, I narrowly missed his blade by inches. He would never catch me. I was an elf, he was a slow human. His destiny was to die among his undead minions. And when he fell at her feet, he would never breath again. He would feel her arrows pierce his skin, her blade slit his throat, and his blood would run dry.
But somehow, she felt she'd lost all hope. True, she'd spoken courageously to her troops; told that fool Arthas his inevitable fate. She'd kept them back until the very last. But they'd broken the defenses. Somehow, they'd broken her home. Silvermoon was in ruins. She'd failed her people. Her family; scattered, broken. And she herself - facing a battle that would either earn them victory, or make her death. Looking at the blade that the scum Arthas wielded, she knew it would surely be the latter. But still she fought. She would die honorably, as she had hoped.
The blade swooped down again. She flipped back, pulling back her string. She let her final arrow fly at the enemy. But it did no good. Thrown aside, like the several that stood at the human's feet. Arthas flashed her a wicked grin. He knew that she was tiring. Quickly, she dived to her left, snatching her blade from it's sheath. She lifted it up to defend herself. The dreaded blade came down upon her quickly. It threw her sideways, her knife sliding from her grip. As quickly as she'd fallen, she pulled herself to her feet. She blinked those pure blue eyes, she breathed deep, ready to face her final moment. He came at her.
And in that time she thought of her siblings. Alleria; her elder sister, commander before her, hero. Her younger sister, Vereesa; an elf ranger who would no doubt succeed her with her fantastic ability. And her poor brother, Lirath; dreaming of following his sisters footsteps, but dying at the hands of those bloodthirsty orcs. She would see him soon, she was sure. Her thoughts were cut short when the sword cleaved through her stomach, sending her sprawling across the ground.
With a groan, she pulled herself up to face Arthas' snarling face. "Give me a clean death. I deserve as much."
The human mearly shook his head, his snarl stretching further, his eyes glinting. "For what you have put me through, Sylvanas Windrunner, the last thing you shall get from me is the peace of death."
She watched as the human dragged her to that temple. She was helpless; she could do nothing but watch. Tortured, mutilated, killed. Almost killed. Spirit desecrated. Corrupted. Tormented and unrelentless hatred. Slave to Arthas' will. Banshee.