Haa'aji held his breath as he stared at the trollish woman in front of him. He'd finally pushed his luck too far.
At the banquet, he'd been sure his brother was going to cut him down where he sat for his disrespect to the fallen. In fact, his brother had probably thought he was going to as well. However, the elders had stepped in and stayed Gen'taji's hand.
They had asked Haa'aji what he meant and, without thinking, he had told them. He had damned the dead fools for their massacre of innocents and had damned anyone who thought it was even remotely acceptable. He'd asked them how they would want their offspring and mates to be cut down in cold blood.
When he was done, he'd seen Zen'tesh watching him from a table over, an unreadable expression on her face. He wasn't sure why he'd noticed her, but one of his tusks was nearly broken off as one of the elders had gripped it and jerked his attention back toward them.
If he was so sympathetic to the elves, they had decided, he could join them.
As they stripped him of his weapons and scrubbed his war paint from his body, it hadn't really occurred to him that he was being exiled. When they led him to the outskirts of their territory and shoved him into the woods without even a loincloth to his name, it still somehow seemed unreal.
Even now, he half expected to wake up and see that it had all been a dream.
He'd been mulling about near the border, unsure of what he was supposed to do—beg for forgiveness? maybe try to come back with a few elven heads?—when he'd heard something stumbling through the trees and had gone for the thickest branch he could find, thinking to use it as a club.
Instead of elves, angry warriors, or undead monsters, Zen'tesh had practically fallen out of the tangled underbrush, carrying two stolen spears and a small satchel of food.
The woman gripped the weapons tightly as though she were terrified to see Haa'aji as he was, naked and forsaken. While he struggled to even comprehend why she was standing in front of him, she shakily held out one of the spears. "Ah...ah didn' realize dey took ev'rehtin...It be okay. Ah wolda grabbed moa food, but...dey moved ya so fast...Ah didn' wan' ta loose ya..."
He had never thought he would be so grateful for her unwavering dedication. Even knowing that she could never go home to her family...never see them again, she had followed him. Haa'aji stared at her and considered holding her to him and making her his right there, though the faces of the elves flickered in his mind. They were fleeing from something horrible. Something that now he was going to have to contend with, on his own.
As Zen'tesh chattered on about how she could cook most anything they came across and how even though they were low on resources at the moment, she had faith they'd find something, Haa'aji felt that knot in his stomach return. He'd let that elven woman and her child die, and there was nothing he could do to change that, but he could still save Zen'tesh.
"De fuck be wrong wit' ya?" Haa'aji asked, his expression blanking.
"Wat?" Zen'tesh's nervous smile faded. She'd been growing more enthusiastic as she'd talked about how they would manage to survive in the wild, but his question had shattered her confidence.
"Go home," Haa'aji muttered, running his fingers through his hair and dropping his stick.
"Mah home be wit' ya."
"De hell it be," he retorted, and frowned as she donned a hurt look. He ignored the pang of guilt in his mind as she tried to understand what he was saying. He let his face twist into anger. "Ah neva been interested. Wat good ya be ta meh now? Sumtin else ta look out fa while Ah try ta survive. Nah, mon. Ah ain' gon ta be responsible fa ya."
Zen'tesh straightened up. "Ya don be meanin' dat."
"Ah do," Haa'aji shrugged. "Dis..." he motioned around them toward the woods, "be de greatest ting ta happen ta meh. Now Ah don' have ta be seein' ya come crawlin' by ev'reh day. Go home. Dea be plenteh a trolls ta ovalook ya pitiful natua, yeh? Ah nah be one a dem."
He left her standing alone in the woods, though he made sure to wander back later, to make sure she wasn't stupidly staying out in the open. She was gone, though she'd left the satchel of food.
He left it where it lay and turned his attention toward the elven territories.
~"~
Screams.
You are mine.
Puddles of mud and blood, mixing between the cracked cobblestones.
My blade. My weapon. Death perfected.
Begs for mercy.
Show them how they waste their words.
Curses.
Let them know their Light has left them.
Voices damning his existence.
Kill them.
Shadow brought the mace he'd been given down onto a terrified woman's head. Her sobbing quieted almost instantly. He boiled the blood of the girl watching from where she thought she'd hidden herself in their cabinets and then stalked out of the house.
Ghouls raced through the streets past him, and he watched them with mild apathy.
Another soul to harvest.
Shadow turned sharply and death gripped a teenage boy out of an alley, where he'd tried to hide amidst garbage. Another choked sob drew his attention, and he let the human fall broken to the earth as he strode down the darkened passage, stopping to see a little girl clutching an injured kitten to her chest.
Make them suffer.
"No..." Shadow whispered, ending the child and pet with a single stroke of his weapon. He stared blankly down at the crumpled body at his feet.
"Hmm? Talking to yourself again?"
Shadow turned his blue gaze back toward the street to see Tinker perched on top of a ghoul, watching him with an amused look. While she'd originally worked mostly with a human death knight named Shawn, the human had been sent back to Lordaeron to deal with issues with the plague or some nonsense. It didn't involve Shadow, and so Shadow didn't know the details. That was how things were now. He knew only exactly what he needed to accomplish his missions for the Lich King.
He lumbered back toward the little gnome, the spikes on his plate shoulders scraping into the walls of the narrow way. How had he made it in there to begin with? "Kisses. Shouldn't you be maiming something?"
"Shouldn't you?" she grinned. Her name in life had been Tinker, but in death, she'd been given a nickname to emphasize her stellar personality. More than a few of their brothers and sisters in arms found the name amusing. Especially when they got to introduce her to anyone who needed some persuading to give information.
End them.
Both death knights turned toward one of the houses near them and started toward it. Tinker cackled as they approached. "Humans are so disgusting. Like cockroaches...it always amazes me all the places they find to hide."
"I thought you enjoyed the hunt?" Shadow asked. While Tinker seemed to take the question as a joke and laughed, Shadow merely strode on, reaching the door before his gnomish companion and easily tearing it off its hinges.
As he walked into the place and turned toward the sounds of sniveling and attempted covering of hiccupped sobs, he noticed Tinker's ghoul had entered after him, alone. While she normally rode on the creature's shoulders, when she wanted to play with her prey, she chose to rely more so on being able to slip into places without being seen. Shadow's frozen presence would hide hers and give her the ability to sneak up on any of the ones he missed.
He would try not to leave any for her. She was too cruel with her antics, often trying to give them the hope that they might get away before summoning her army of ghouls to overwhelm them in the last moment.
He felt like he has seen that happen first hand, though he couldn't remember when that had been. On the occasion he tried to recall it, frantic shrieks and a sense of dread filled him, though they were quickly lulled away by the constant pain that thrummed through him.
He saw the child first, though the boy's father attempted an ambush and leapt at him from another room with a fire poker. Shadow easily dodged the human's clumsy attacks, caught him by the throat, and slammed his head into his knee. He heard the child wail and looked up to see that Tinker had come in through the window.
Show them pain.
Knowing he'd have to hear about it later, Shadow threw his mace at the boy, killing him even as Tinker moved in to break a limb and show the little boy the true meaning of agony. The gnome frowned and glared at her tauren companion as he strode over and hoisted his mace up.
"You are a terrible death knight," Tinker muttered. She kicked lightly at one of his hooves before her ghoul shambled into the room, and she hurriedly scurried up it to rest on its shoulders again. "You're lucky you're so intimidating to look at...otherwise I think they'd have tossed you back into the pile by now." As he gave her an irritated look, she arched her eyebrows and the taunt skin on her face pulled unnaturally. "You think people haven't noticed? You defy our master."
"When have I ever?" Shadow muttered, already moving out of the house.
Tinker followed him, unrelenting. "You don't follow his commands. You show them mercy."
"They're still dead, aren't they?"
That commanding voice in his head had stopped, and Shadow sighed. Everything was dead. That meant peace for at least a little while. He slowed his pace as he walked toward the town's square. If he took longer, that meant it would be a longer silence in his head. Unless some fool tried to flee from the ghouls and headed in his direction. He'd already had that happen twice today.
Tinker didn't mind the slow pace and quietly surveyed the burning houses and broken bodies littering the way. A few cultists had come to start gathering corpses, and she gave the nearest two a cold glare, sending them skittering away.
She laughed, enjoying their fear, though she frowned as the town's square came into view. There was a broken fountain at its center, and part of the base had been shattered, leaving the water to pool on the cobblestones around its base.
Another death knight was shoving an older man's face into the inch of water, grating the fragile man's nose into the ground as he drowned him. As they got closer, it seemed that the man was already dead, though their fellow knight was still desecrating his body.
Tinker let out a low, irritated hiss, and a small puff of frozen air escaped her lips. "For fuck's sake. First I have to deal with you and now Bloodsworn?"
Shadow cocked his head as he eyed the human knight. "You're just angry that he makes you look like a cuddly little bunny."
"I will knee cap you," Tinker muttered, though her voice trailed off as Bloodsworn caught sight of them and finally let go of his latest victim.
He trotted up to them, giving each an enthusiastic nod. "Great night to be dead, wouldn't you agree?" When neither of them responded, his smile slipped. He was known to hate the 'softer' death knights, or so Shadow had heard. "So...I know it may be a bit late in the game—for this town anyway—but I was wondering if you have any prisoners."
"If we took any prisoners, it was for a reason," Tinker muttered. Last time Bloodsworn had shown up, he'd accused her of being merciful by keeping a few of the townsfolk alive. Even when she'd proved that she'd been keeping them to interrogate and torture, he hadn't bothered to apologize. She didn't like people accusing her of not doing her job.
Shadow had had to listen to her bitch about it for weeks. With that in mind, he wasn't looking forward to the idea of having to hear about whatever would come out of this meeting.
Bloodsworn laughed at Tinker's expression. "Ah, no. I don't doubt you need them. Rather, I was hoping that, if you have any elves, or...younger humans, I might have them when you're done? My pet's a little lonely."
"Pet?" Shadow's fur bristled. Something about the way Bloodsworn had said it stirred something long forgotten inside of him...
"Ah, I suppose I never told you, did I?" His enthusiasm returned twice over. "I procured myself a living healer. She doesn't take orders very well, though. It's a matter of time, though. It's a little side project I've been working on."
"We have living healers," Shadow said, bored.
"They're called cultists," Tinker added, enjoying teaming up against the other knight.
Bloodsworn's smile wavered, though he forced it back. "But the Light doesn't serve them as well as it would a purer soul."
"But we don't need the light because it burns," Tinker interrupted him before he could launch into a lengthy explanation of his plan.
Bloodsworn seemed to be growing impatient. "Yes, yes. But, if we had a living healer, just think. We could send her into our enemies' bases and then when we send in the ghouls, she'll already be there to keep them alive."
"Again, a cultist can do that," Tinker muttered.
"Well that little bitch needs to learn who's in charge," Bloodsworn snapped back. He seemed as surprised as they were by his outburst.
Glancing around with a sudden feeling of unease, Shadow shifted his weight. "Who?"
Bloodsworn forced a laugh. "Oh? No, no one. Never mind. I'm just...if you have any prisoners like the ones I'm looking for, send them my way? My pet has been a little lonely since she figured out her dear Gryst'lyn isn't coming to save her."
~"~
Adrias smiled as a woman's hand brushed against his shoulder, stirring him from his dreams. He reached out and let his hand trail down her arm. "Give me a few more minutes, love—"
He let out a sharp cry as he felt that same hand slap him, and his eyes shot open. Prynn had jerked her hand away from him, and she glared at him as though his mere touch had somehow defiled her. "We're moving soon, so get up."
Adrias muttered something about a prude bitch which warranted another smack to his head as he rose. However, as he sat up, his blanket fell away from his naked body, and Prynn jerked away from him, her cheeks flushing as she turned her back. Adrias preferred to sleep in the nude, and he wasn't about to apologize for it. And besides, they'd had sex before, so it wasn't like she was seeing something new. As he reached out and pulled his robe to him, he arched a delicate black eyebrow. "If you're so offended, why do you let your gaze linger so?"
He dressed himself with the speed and skill of a man who was used to having to flee from disgruntled husbands or angry parents for many a year as Prynn snapped a hasty rebuttal. He and Gryst'lyn had been attempting to sneak out of the city—which had gone under marshal law until the undead threat could accurately be gauged—when the little wench had called them out. Apparently the priestess had been coming to see how Gryst'lyn was dealing with the death of their beloved Amaeria when she'd seen him slip out of his house.
When Gryst'lyn had told the elf of his plans to find and rescue Amaeria from whatever fate had befallen her, both men had been surprised when Prynn jumped at the thought, eagerly offering to heal for them.
She and Gryst'lyn had been content to chatter away about how if anyone could survive an undead invasion, it would be Amaeria and how she was so lucky and a bunch of other comments that Adrias tuned out for fear of somehow falling under the elf's thrall as well—honestly, this Amaeria had to be using some sort of spell for two people to so adamantly believe that she was indestructible.
They had gotten lost almost as soon as they'd left the city. While Adrias had tried to point out that if they were this incompetent, they wouldn't make it far enough to save the beloved little priest, Gryst'lyn had suggested they recruit Jaserisk to assist them. After all, he'd been at the outpost where Amaeria had disappeared and—assuming he was the friend Amaeria had always claimed him to be—surely he'd be able to right things. Adrias had been reminded of Gryst'lyn's earlier doubt in the man—he'd been the Farstrider to say Amaeria had wandered off, after all—when Prynn had hesitantly suggested they not.
When prodded, she'd quickly brushed it off by saying that Jaserisk had been deeply affected by whatever it was he'd seen out there. He wasn't himself anymore, and he'd already told Prynn there would be no search and rescue missions for their beloved childhood friend.
Adrias had taken that as a sign that they were not meant to do anything stupid. Gryst'lyn had taken it as a sign that they should find out what Adrias' Farstrider brother was up to these days.
Adrias wanted to hit his head against a tree, but had conceded that his younger brother, Wren, was stationed at a Farstrider Enclave not far from the city. After almost two days of wandering lost through the woods, they'd been discovered by a few patrolling Farstriders and—as the gods and Light and whatever else might be out there seemed to hate Adrias with a passion—taken back to the very enclave they were trying to find.
Though Adrias still asked the universe why they couldn't have been horribly lost and simply wound up back at the gates of Silvermoon, he knew it was pointless. Worse, he was beginning to wonder if maybe there was something to that whole 'Believe in the Light' priest bullshit. It seemed that something wanted them searching for Amaeria.
His brother had been less than pleased to see him, but—being somewhat a white sheep in their warlock family—had been unable to turn away a tearful Prynn and hopeful Gryst'lyn.
Well, they'd also lied to him and told him that the prince himself had ordered they go investigate the coming tide of death. When Wren had asked to see the orders, Prynn had burst into tears, and Gryst'lyn had made up some nonsense about losing it when he fell down an embankment.
While Adrias doubted Wren believed them, he'd agreed to lead them where they wanted to go, though he warned them that if it became too dangerous, they would have to turn back.
That had been almost three weeks ago.
Adrias hopped to his feet and strode past the modest priest to where Wren was quietly cooking some small animal over an open fire. Gryst'lyn sat quietly beside him, fidgeting. The elf had to hate every moment they weren't moving. By the nether, Adrias suspected that if he hadn't come with Gryst'lyn, the moron would have pushed himself past the point of exhaustion and killed himself already.
As Adrias dropped down beside the fire, Wren ignored him and sliced some of the meat from the animal, handing it to Prynn. She mumbled a thank you and sat a little ways away from the others. While she was happy to go save her friend, Adrias could tell she didn't like being in a group with all men.
She looked over the group as she quietly munched on her food, seeming to debate whether or not to ask a question. Wren glanced at her curiously and smiled. "Miss Prynn, right?"
"Yes, m'lord."
Or it could be the fact that all three of them were nobles, and she was a common elf. Adrias had forgotten about that bit. Wren nodded to her, and Adrias narrowed his eyes as he noticed Prynn blush slightly. Even as Wren opened his mouth to ask whatever question had been mulling around in that empty blonde head of his, Adrias found himself snapping, "He's married, you know."
Prynn looked somewhat indignant and tried to muster up a response about how she wasn't even thinking about attempting to bed a noble out in the middle of nowhere. However, Adrias froze as he caught Wren's cold gaze.
"Yes, I am married. How's my wife, by the way? Since, you know, you see her more often than I do." As everyone else's eyes widened, Wren feigned a look of surprise, still staring at Adrias. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you not know that I was aware of your affair?"
Adrias narrowed his eyes as he looked over his brother. So that's why he wasn't talking to him. He'd been wondering why the elf had just up and left the city so suddenly. He shrugged. "I don't see why you're upset. It was a political marriage, and it's not like she was ever interested in you."
"Do you see me bedding your wife?"
"Pretty sure you'd have to pay her to sleep with you, and honestly, Wren, I think you're above whores."
Wren looked ready to pull out his long golden locks, though he merely closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. As Adrias glanced at Prynn, he saw that she had a deer-in-the-headlights expression and didn't seem to know what to think. Only Gryst'lyn seemed unphased. He was far too used to Adrias' antics, and he accepted him as the lying, cheating, manipulative bastard that he was with no questions asked.
A true friend.
It also helped that mere months ago, he'd been almost the exact same, too. Until that wretched Amaeria had ensnared him with those droll concepts like monogamy and love.
Gryst'lyn rose to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, his armor clinking softly in time with his movements. As he swung his arms down, he walked over to his hawkstrider and patted its beak gently. "We're wasting daylight. Think we can be moving in ten?"
