A/N: Short chapter I know. More will be added soon . Already working on CH.2
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Warcraft universe,only my character Kveld.
The slums of Gilneas festered beneath the angry charcoal sky. Trash and raw sewage flowed like blood from a dying animal in the rain-filled gutters. Both people and animals alike scurried to hide under doorways and overhangs.
Rain was not something new to the City of Gilneas. The falling torrents had been introduced to every citizen from the time of their birth but never before had the storm waited so long to pour. For three days the clouds had hovered looking darker and more ominous with each passing day. Now it seemed they could hold their weight no longer and the water fell to the ground in frigid sheets.
As lightning forked through the sky and the inevitable rumble of thunder followed beneath the noise could be heard screaming. Of course, no one came to help as it was night and no one wanted to be caught out in the slums after dark. Still, the screaming carried on coming from a trash strewn alley way.
In the freezing dark, a woman placed her hand against the brick work wall of a building with the other hand clutching her stomach. Spilled vegetables rolled out of a dropped green cloth bag at her feet while a black parasol was swept into the wind.
"Somebody help me!" she screamed, holding onto her stomach. The rough sound of her voice was nothing like the fine, delicate melody of the nobility but rather consisted of the harsh up and down of the common that was forced between her full lips in the form of clipped, shortened words.
Finally she fell to her knees and her contractions grew as they had been all day. This morning had started with discomfort which had worsened as the day moved on. Secretly she hoped it was nothing, that the baby would just be a stillborn that she could discard into a sewer drain.
For what seemed like hours, the woman screamed into the stormy night, praying to the Holy Light for a reprieve but there was no answer, only more pain. She couldn't help but think back to her encounters with previous men. There had been many within the last year but she knew who it was that sired this child.
Tall and imposing he had to duck under the doorframe to get into the brothel. The man had been of average looks but what stayed with her the most was his hard, demanding gaze. The smell of cheap cologne and alcohol clung to his form, spreading over the gaudy furniture of the building but she had never learned his name. He tipped well but other than his face she knew nothing about him.
The volume and intensity of the screams tripled until finally the wet sound of flesh hitting pavement was heard and the keening wail ran over the slum's rooftops. Gasping for air, the woman reached into the pocket of her skirts to withdraw a rusty knife with a chipped blade. The rust and wear on the knife didn't matter because it was made for protection. The slums were never safe for a woman of the night and while her "lord" carried a heavy hand for anyone who would harm his Flowers the muggings, murders and kidnappings could not all be stopped.
For the last nine months, she had hid the baby beneath her clothes, not wanting to incur a beating. Pregnancies were looked-down upon in her trade especially by the boss. Time spent away from the street corners led to less money in his pocket. But not everyone could be fooled. Some whispered behind cloth fans and veils while some merely glanced at her indirectly through heavily lashed eyelids.
Using the knife, she hurriedly severed the umbilical cord and used the rough brick wall to get to her feet. She looked down at the wailing infant and saw that the baby possessed a full set of teeth. From the older woman, she knew this shouldn't be and she couldn't help the odd chill going down her spine.
Finally, pursing her lips, the woman grabbed the wailing baby and dropped it carelessly into a refuse pile at the end of the ally before making her way back to the boarding house.
