Unflinching, Desecration cut away the last of the hanging flesh around the ends of his fingertips. In his boredom he had decided to sharpen the protrusions he once called fingers into sharp razor-like claws, an idea that was only possible through the magics of his master, The Lady Sylvannas.
It was through her he was able to awaken in his undeath not a minion of the scourge, but among the ranks of the Forsaken.
It was also through her he was able to shrug off such human things as pain, and even the ability to animate himself even with his apparent loss of tendon, and muscle is some areas.
It was not every day he stopped to realize just what the Dark Lady had blessed him with, but he had time to think today.
Camping on the roadside in Silverpine was not among the choice activities he had picked for himself that day, but still young in his undeath he took what jobs he could to further himself in the eyes of his rogue peers.
Lost in his thoughts Desecration fumbled with the name given to him by Mennet Carkad, a mid ranking attendant of the Rogue Quarters in the Undercity.
Astor...Hadren.. Why they could not have a lesser qualified person take care of this task escaped him. He had heard of this Hadren person and was told he was not a person of much strength. "I deserve something more befitting of the future consort of the dark lady", Desecration grumbled to himself half forgetting he was stealthed and supposed to be on a ambush mission.
Desecration sheathed his dagger and with what remained of his lungs blew away the specks of bone and dried ichor that had gathered on his lap from his whittling.
Stretching his new claws above his head and groaning, Desecration noticed he was not alone anymore.
A darkened figure, silhouetted by the setting sun approached. Obviously paranoid the figure darted his rotting eyes left to right, as if almost expecting an attacker.
Even though using the magics of stealth Desecration hid behind a thicket, he was still young and very aware some would see through his ruse. Looking through the foliage he waited until the figure had passed by, Desecration almost remembered what it was like to have a heart and what it felt like to have it beating with a quickened pace.
Confident the stranger had not seen him Desecration darted out and in a flash stuck his newly sharpened claws into the throat of the stranger.
"Are you Astor Hadren", Desecration whispered harshly into his victims ear, already confident of the answer.
With no response Desecration turned the man's face to meet his own, his only response was the loose bobbing of his head.
Releasing his grip Des now noticed that in his eagerness had completely penetrated his throat all the way to other end and stabbed into his own hand.
Laughing at this Desecration quickly jammed his hand into the now dead messengers satchel. Letter of introduction in hand, Desecration kicked the body to the side of the road and whistled for the attention of a close-by worg. "Dine tonight on the feast I have given you Worg, for I fear I am coming for your heart tomorrow".
Desecration sprinted off toward the Undercity, ready to collect his reward.