Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft or Warcraft.
-Twins Greyhem-
Loralen gripped her bow tightly as she forced herself to move faster. Her black hood fell from her head and golden-silver hair wiped behind her as she rushed past trees and boulders. The sound of heavy steps behind her was all she needed to hear to know that her pursuers were gaining on her. Under different circumstances she may have felt embarrassed that someone, anyone, could keep up with a dark ranger of Undercity, however the multitude of injuries on her lithe body slowed her typically rapid pace.
She had been betrayed. Undercity had been betrayed. The Banshee Queen had been betrayed.
She gasped when she heard the snapping of bone and her leg gave out beneath her, her foot caught in an unseen hole. Due to her undead nature she did not feel the physical pain but she still grimaced as she landed. She tumbled and slid down a short, grassy slope. The decaying grass grew tall on the hill and Loralen managed to gain control of her slide by grabbing handfuls of the vegetation. She slowed to a stop at the bottom of the hill and quickly turned herself on her back so that she could see the top of the hill, her bow notched and pulled glowing red eyes searched for a target. If she was going to die, she would do so fighting.
The sound of a dozen stomping feet signaled of the arrival of her hunters and Loralen spied the ex-Forsaken that ambushed her standing at the top of the slope. She didn't hesitate to loose an arrow and released another before the first hit its target. The moment the first ex-Forsaken dropped, undeath returning to death, the others charged. Loralen kicked the ground, pushing herself away from the charging enemy, losing arrow after arrow. Three more dropped and two were injured by the time they reached her.
Clawed, undead hands tore Loralen's bow from her hands. Her arrows were tossed from her quiver and the pair of daggers she had on her hips were ripped from her with such force that her leather belt snapped loudly. Where others may have felt fear, Loralen felt only rage and despair. Rage at her enemies for their betrayal and herself for her failure; despair for her inability to warn Undercity and the Banshee Queen.
A large ex-Forsaken, his limbs rotten to the bone, knelt before her. He bound her limbs with a thick rope with the help of several of the undead around him. "We need some information, Loralen," he said casually as he worked, his voice guttural and difficult to understand.
The silver-blonde woman spat in his face. She was a dark ranger trained by the Banshee Queen. No matter what these traitors did, no matter what manner of torture was inflicted on her, she promised herself that she would give them nothing.
The male undead sighed heavily, a knocking echoing in his chest. "Loralen" he muttered. "We have known each other for years. I don't want to do this but we - you and I - both know that the Forsaken's days are numbered. We cannot procreate and no race will willingly give their dead to replenish our numbers. Think of how many we have lost over these short years. It is only a matter of time until we become extinct. The Forsaken are doomed to die. At least under Sylvanas' rule. But Putress has a plan. He's made a new plague and is working day and night to complete the final touches that will grow our numbers and bring death to our enemies."
Loralen growled but she couldn't deny that the Forsaken were a dwindling people. "And who is our enemy, Gunther?" she snapped, her voice cold and emotionless. "Everyone? The living? You would have us go to war with the world. The only way that would end is with our deaths. Putress promises nothing but the end of our cursed existence."
"No," Gunther replied. "When the world is controlled by the undead we will finally have our peace. Don't you see? He promises us peace in a world that hates us for existing. He offers us hope."
The rest of the gathered ex-Forsaken nodded at Gunther's statement.
"You're deranged," she hissed.
The male undead's face dropped. "Fine, but I want you to know I didn't want this, Loralen. The Deathguard and the Dark Rangers have worked together for years. I just wish you'd see reason." Gunther looked to one of the assembled ex-Forsaken and nodded.
A living corpse stepped forward, black robes brushing against the dead grass. The symbol of the Cult of the Forgotten Shadow hung from its neck. The ex-Forsaken was so rotted that Loralen couldn't tell its gender but she shivered when it raised its symbol and a golden light began to radiate from it. Any Forsaken that still had the gift of the Light was rare as they, being undead, were the antithesis of the Light. To use those skills caused the wielder great pain and even great torment for the unfortunate victim. It took an exceptionally strong willed Forsaken to continue to utilize the powers of the Light despite these burdens. However, that knowledge wasn't what caused Loralen to start to shake slightly despite her iron resolve.
Loralen had been healed by the Light since her undeath and knew it to be one of the most horrifically painful experiences of her entire existence, living and undeath. It wasn't a physical pain but a spiritual one. Like boiling tar being poured over your entire body and forced down your throat. It burnt and choked with an intense pain that left the sufferer in a stupor, often begging for it to end. There were few who could tolerate the pain, much less stay sane after it. This made it a perfect tool in torture when an undead had knowledge they were not forthcoming with.
The dark ranger clenched her teeth when the light from the ex-Forsaken's symbol flashed and she heard someone scream. It took her a moment to realize it was her, her mind ablaze with near indescribable pain. An eternity passed before the light faded. Her screaming tapered off, her unneeded breath short and quick, a remnant reflex from when she was alive.
"Loralen," Gunther commanded, "tell us where the secret entrance to the Royal Quarter is."
The dark ranger sucked in a breath and growled weakly, "Never."
Gunther sighed. "Again."
Loralen's scream ripped through the air and after she refused to answer the second time Gunther repeated his order. The light flashed, her soul burned. This was a pain that was absolute. Where physical pain could be ignored, spiritual pain tore through any mental defences and training. It was a pain was so deep it felt like one's very existence was set ablaze. Loralen didn't get a chance to say anything before the ex-Forsaken priest repeated the process twice more.
The silver-blonde Dark Ranger gasped when the pain ended, her body spasmed and twitched due to her suffering. Loralen's mind was muddled but she put a steel trap on her tongue. She would never give them what they wanted.
Gunther grunted and kicked Loralen, causing several of her ribs to snap loudly. "Tell us, woman!" he roared.
She opened her red eyes a sliver and barely managed a shake of her head.
"Again!" he barked.
The priest lifted its symbol. The light built up and a loud clang rang through the air as the rotten undead was sent soaring over her. Loralen focused as best she could and saw something she could hardly believe. Standing in the midst of the ex-Forsaken, sword held high, shield in hand, was a Human. A living, breathing Human in Tirisfal Glades, the center of the Forsaken's power.
Loralen doubted what she saw until the Human swung his sword and Gunther's head rolled from his shoulders. The silver-blonde watched, stunned as one of the ex-Forsaken attempted to attack the Human's back when they too were cut down, this time by another. This one Loralen would recognize anywhere. A death knight with armor as black as the Forgotten Shadow, decorated with blackened metal skulls and glowing arcane runes. The great sword the death knight wielded in one hand hummed with power.
The death knight and Human stood back to back as the ex-Forsaken finally reacted to their presence. The two warriors had set themselves in the middle of the undead, near where she lay, and faced off with remaining ex-Forsaken. A frosty mist surrounded the death knight who gestured almost casually toward the undead before him. A blue arcane mist blew away from the knight and smashed into the living corpses. Ice coalesced on their bodies, slowing them and holding the weaker ones in place. Stepping forward, the undead knight cut down the ex-Forsaken and smashed the frozen ones to pieces with his shield.
The Human, much to Loralen's shock, flashed with a holy light and a golden force shot out of his silver blade as he swung it. The golden energy smashing into the advancing ex-Forsaken on his side. The light sliced bone and boiled blood with its holy powers. The Human rushed forward and ended the remaining undead with a few strikes of his blade.
Loralen watched, astonished, as the two knights tore through the ex-Forsaken. The two were obviously skilled with the way they dominated their foes and also appeared to trust each other explicitly as they never once checked their back, as if they knew the other would watch out for them. When no foes were left standing, she felt their attention turn to her. The death knight studied her carefully before he began searching the bodies of the ex-Forsaken. He was a Human apparent due to his not wearing a helmet and she could see the white hair and pale skin common for servants of the Lich King. While he searched the bodies, his glowing ice blue eyes shot to her every so often with a promise of death if she acted in a manner he deemed threatening.
She would have mocked him if she was able to move without a fresh wave of pain searing her soul. However, despite the power that radiated from the death knight, it was the living Human that held her attention as he approached her. This man also did not wear a helm and she was shocked to see that his facial features were strikingly similar to the death knight save for the skin and hair. Instead of the pale of the undead, the human had sun kissed skin, and instead of the white hair, he had short black hair and a rough dusting of facial hair. However, his eyes were a dark blue.
When the living human reached her side, she clenched her eyes, ready for the end. The man was obviously a paladin with the way he brandished the Light at his command and, while he may have held the strange company of a death knight, no holy man would allow a Forsaken to continue their tainted existence. She hated herself for flinching when she heard metal scrape lightly against what must have been the paladin's shield. She opened her eyes just in time to see his sword stab down into the ground a foot from her. Her brow knitted in confusion.
Loralen turned her eyes to the human as he knelt beside her. His metal gauntlets glowing with a holy light and dread filled her. She forced herself to kick away from the human but her strength was sapped from the torture she had suffered. Instead of a strong kick that would have knocked the paladin away, she barely managed to skid her leg on the ground. A part of her howled at how pathetic she must have looked.
Loralen closed her eyes again as the paladin placed his hands on her, ready for a cascade of pain. She had heard stories of paladins torturing helpless Forsaken prisoners and it appeared this one was among those sadistic ilk. The metal gauntlet touched her flesh and she felt the holy energy enter her. Loralen clenched her teeth but instead of pain her felt a rush of warmth pass through her. A warmth she had not felt since before she became an undead. She felt it flow over her body and brush against her soul like sunlight caressing her skin. She felt her ribs and her broken ankle fuse back together and, amazingly, a small portion of her rotten flesh recovered.
She opened her eyes to see the paladin smile and offer her his hand.
"Glad to see you're okay, Dark Ranger," he said, his voice deep and smooth.
He spoke in Common, one of the many languages she spoke. Loralen did not take his hand but opted to stare at the man, distrust evident in her eyes. "Why?" she questioned.
The death knight was the one who answered. "We heard your cries about a half a league out," he said, his voice rumbled and echoed with undeath. Curiously, despite the distortion of the voice due to the unholy energies that created a death knight, she could still hear similarities in the two men's voices.
"We apologize it took us so long to get here," the paladin finished.
"No," she growled. "Why did you help me?"
The corner of the man's lips curved up slightly, his eyes like clouds before a storm. "Why not?" he asked. "You needed help. And considering it was some of your fellow Forsaken who were attacking you, I'll hazard a guess that something has happened among the Forsaken."
Loralen stood slowly but gracefully, very aware of the lack of spiritual pain that should have been wreaking her body and soul. In fact, she felt light. Full of an energy she hadn't had before. She glanced at her bow and the arrows scattered only a few feet away. If she could get them she might have a chance against these knights. Her thoughts were stopped when the paladin spoke again.
"If you want your weapons, help yourself," he said.
She narrowed her eyes and moved slowly toward her equipment. Like a deer, she watched everything around her, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. "What makes you think something is amiss?" she questioned, trying to keep the two knights distracted.
"We heard rumors of the loyalty of the Dark Rangers of Undercity," the death knight's whisper-like voice answered. "If Forsaken are attacking you, then something has obviously happened."
She took in what the man said as she walked around her equipment and so she could keep the knights in front of her and the woods to her back. Sliding the arrows into her quiver, she kept one in her hand as she grabbed her bow. The moment her hand touched her bow, the death knight tossed something at her. Loralen rolled back, notching an arrow before the object landed near where she had been. Her breath was slow and steady as she looked down the shaft of her arrow and met the smirk of the death knight. The paladin shot the undead man an incredulous look and held his hands before him in a placating manner. She looked at what the death knight threw and found a leather belt.
"Your's is broken," the undead knight answered, gesturing to the snapped belt near her daggers.
She nodded slowly but did not lower her bow.
The death knight frowned, his misty blue eyes narrowing. "If we wanted you dead then Vitus wouldn't have wasted his time healing you, Dark Ranger," he growled.
Loralen considered that. The man had a point. The paladin would never have healed her if their intention was to kill her. They could have been done that easily in the pathetic state she had been in. But that didn't mean she trusted these men. For the time being she put aside the fact that paladin healed her. That was something she could think about at another time.
She lowered her bow and carefully removed the arrow. She tensed as she walked to her daggers, knelt, and attached them to the unbroken belt, never taking her eyes off her two rescuers. She quickly sintched the belt around her slender waist and stood. The death knight had clearly finished his search of the corpses and the paladin had his eyes on her.
The living man held his gauntleted hand out and said, "Vitus Greyhem."
She didn't move to take his hand and sent a glare at him.
The man lowered his hand with that same casual smile on his lips. The death knight did not reach out his hand when he muttered, "Sillos Greyhem."
She looked between the two, took in their handsome faces, their equal six foot heights, and the same relaxed way they held themselves. "You're bothers," she concluded.
"Twins," Sillos and Vitus corrected in a manner that suggested the response was automatic for them.
Loralen nodded slowly. She had wasted too much time here and had to get back to Undercity and warn Sylvanas of Putress' and a large amount of the Forsaken's betrayal. However, she was admittedly stumped on how to deal with these two men. These two anomalies. One an unholy death knight who must have regained his mind somehow and the other a holy paladin who not only appeared to tolerate the presence of the undead but whose Light did not hurt them or at least her. Further, she had no idea what they were doing in Tristful Glades. If this had been a normal day for her she would have killed the men and been along with her day. However, this day was anything but normal.
"Perhaps we can help," Vitus said, breaking the silence and interrupting her thoughts.
She raised a delicate eyebrow. The paladin was willing to help her? Clearly a trap.
"What makes you think I need your help?" she said, hate staining her voice.
Sillos answered, "Because you do. It's clear from the position we found you in that you have something to report to Undercity. Better chances with three then one."
"Why?" she asked. These two confused her more than she was comfortable with. They were mysteries and she hated mysteries. You couldn't trust what you didn't know.
"Because it's the right thing to do," the paladin replied with a shrug and was self-conscious enough to look sheepish at how celche what he said sounded. "Look. We saved you from those Forsaken and healed you. If we meant harm to you or Undercity we would have aided the undead who were torturing you or killed you with we didn't. It is no secret that the Forsaken call the ruins of Loraeron their capital. If my brother and I were on some suicidal quest to genecide a whole group of people, we wouldn't need you to show us where to go. If it pleases you, we will leave as soon as the ruins of Lordaeron are in sight. There could be more enemies out there and I would feel better with myself if I knew you made it safely. Call this a selfish request."
"I can handle myself," she snapped.
"We aren't questioning that!" Sillos barked. He sighed heavily before continuing, "Vitus is right. Three is safer than one."
Loralen felt even more confused by the comfort between the two when the Paladin grinned at the moment, no doubt in response to being told he was right, and Sillos flipped the man off without missing a beat.
"What do we stand to gain from this? Everyone already knows Undercity is in the ruins of Lordaeron and we are only two people. What threat could we be?"
She frowned. The dead man had a point. There was nothing for them to gain and she was very aware that the two never once asked her what she might have known about the Forsaken attacking her or any information she might have to report. They simply made assumptions based on how they found her. She considered the situation a few more moments, her long high-elf ears twitching at every sound in the plague ridden forest.
"Fine," Loralen said. "But you will leave the moment Undercity is in sight. If you don't, I'll kill you both."
Better to keep them close so she could keep an eye on them.
The paladin nodded, "So be it. We'll lead. Tell us if we end up getting off track. We may be aware of the location of Undercity but neither of us have been to Lordaeron before so we are going off of old maps of this area."
Loralen nodded slowly and pointed towards Undercity.
-Twins Greyhem-