Thanks again to my reviewers and those that have favorited me as an author and/or my story :D This chapter is a bit short, but i'm having writers block issues so you all will have to forgive me. By the way, I wanted to mention that my guild finally downed Sindy last night! Is it funny or just pathetic that i almost cried tears of joy? ...But in other news, I gave the Lich King a lap dance haha. And to those who for some reason want to talk or heck possibly join the guild send me a message and ill give ya some info as to which server im in and such :) Anyhoo, on with the story..
Accordion music played along with the upbeat tempo of a flute as Emelaine walked through the Darkmoon Faire. The daggers she had at her hips were heavy, but she had grown used to their pull over the years. Her shoulders were covered with metal shoulder pads with large spikes protruding from them, covered in a green substance. A long silver chain attached to the piercing at the tip of her ears to the lobes and down around her neck swung to and fro with her moving feet. A green mist arose from her shoulders and her chest and leg armor looked as if she made them from a warped corpse. Children ran past her legs, playing tag or some other nonsense. Emelaine hissed at them, causing them to cry out and run from her. The elf grinned wide, their tears caused the elf to laugh whimsically. Canvas covered stalls were set up in a circle; all sorts of odd wares were for sale. But nothing here seemed worth the coin, all of it was old, useless contraptions an anonymous gnome had welded together at the last moment. No, nothing here was worth even placing her eyes on. There was only one thing she was here for. An ogre stared at her with contempt but she only glared at him, waiting for its dry lips to open. However, he didn't dare speak to the wild elf, dressed as if she wore the bodies of her enemies. Her eyes then fell on her desired destination.
A dark path led from the circle of stalls deeper into the forest, but there was a sign at the forefront of the path, a warning to ignorant carnival goers.
"Soul Eater's Tent" it read, and by all rights, who in Azeroth would follow this dreary beaten path if they did not have malicious thoughts in mind. And malicious thoughts she had, oh did she ever.
"Scai, why must you choose those of the weakest form to be your lovers? It makes it ever so simple to destroy them." Emelaine giggled fiendishly to herself, her fingers dancing upon the hilt of her right dagger.
Her leather covered feet thumped as she walked down the hard packed earth. Her mind was full of different thoughts, all depictions of how she could dismember the deathknight's beloved human. Her hips rocked back and forth and her daggers swung as the path continued and the brush cleared to a small opening. A tall but thin tent stood, and the light of candles flickered from the cracks between the canvases. Outside sat a deathknight, his eyes fierce but the elf only had a crooked grin to return to him. He huffed and continued staring off into the forest, awaiting orders from the being inside the tent. Her rough hand pulled back the opening to the tall tent, and she laid her eyes upon a form sitting in a high back chair with a table before it. Magic filled baubles hung from the ceiling, and enchanted shapes of moons and stars spun and glowed from thread in the small room.
"Mortengel," Emelaine spoke evenly, "I have come for news."
"This will not bring pleasure to your ears," the warlock answered as she laced her fingers together with her elbows on the chair's arms, "The human is alive."
Emelaine tensed. Her ear twitched, the chain jingling in the silence. Her dagger was pressed to the warlock's throat before she could mumble another word. A bright smile was visible under the being's hood, and her posture did not change.
"Know your place," Mortengel laughed, "You do not wish to truly challenge me."
"Be as it may, why have you failed." Emelaine's hiss cut through the warlocks poise, the elf dug her nails into the wood table she was perched upon.
"We did not expect the druid, or your deathknight for that matter," the warlock grunted, "She would have been dead if she were left on the ground through the night."
"You have your gold, now finish the damn girl," Emelaine growled, pressing the dagger a bit harder, a tendril of blood glowed in the candle light.
"Your request for revenge was completed," Mortengel whispered, leaning away, "The girl is in misery, and she will kill herself."
"Explain," Emelaine arched her long brow, if the human was in such misery as the warlock said, then Scai would be in even more misery watching her beloved go mad.
"Before I had to depart for my own safety, I planted a seed of corruption in her mind," she answered, her breathing minimal, "Only with priests does this cause the darker portion of their souls to dominate. Others, it simply causes madness…but she will destroy herself, in time."
"How long?" Emelaine snarled, her teeth bore in impatience, "I asked you to torment her, and kill her, not extend her pointless life!"
"It has been many weeks now, and the demonic side is now gaining power," Mortengel spoke calmly, "….and why was the deathknight there, you promised me the human would be alone."
"She discovered it from my own lips; I wanted her to know who was destroying her precious little wench."
"You are a fool!" Mortengel cried, tensed, "I must leave, with as wide as your trap is you will tell her who you have hired."
"What makes you believe she will ask me of anything?" the elf laughed bitterly, "She has never spoken to me before, and she is much too busy tending to her pet."
"Do not be naive; she will seek you out," she hissed, "Leave here. Now."
Emelaine glared at the warlock, and without a word she vanished. The pressure on the human's neck dispersed and the canvas door flapped open violently. The deathknight paced to the door, and pulled it aside.
"What are the plans?" He asked, his glowing eyes seemed concerned.
"We are to depart as soon as we get this tent down, Renglo," Mortengel hissed, "That damned imbecile may be the death of us."
Emelaine remained in the shadows, her mind racing. She was still in disbelief, never before did the draenei speak to her, and after all she had done to the deathknight, why would she now?
The moon above her head cast a blue hue upon everything the light touched. Stormwind was deathly quiet, and she crossed the canal bridge to the outlying edges of the Dwarven district. Her eyes darted from side to side before she entered an empty house, and she crossed the small space quickly, without a sound. The back of the house opened up into a dimly lit alleyway, a few dastardly humans spoke quietly, exchanging items of high and low quality. A corpse lay upon the sidewalk to rot, sewer rats feasting on its entrails, but no one cared enough to move it away. A brawl could be heard from the inn, at the end of the alley, and a scream cut the air. One of the contenders had lost, and with the highest price paid. Another corpse would grace the stone ground of Cut-Throat Alley that night.
The elf entered the inn and pushed through the crowd who had cheered and placed bets at the fight. Finally with curses and punches exchanged, she reached the stairs.
"Dear Emelaine," a male voice called, "Come here."
The elf groaned but turned to see Demonstalkr, with a wench on his knee and another with his manhood betwixt her lips. The owner of the inn, and by far the vilest being of elven descent she had ever seen to succumb to carnal pleasures of her realm, smiled at her while he held the head of the onyx haired human against his crotch.
"Rent is due," he spoke evenly, his fingers grasping the woman's hair, "Pay up in gold or favors, darling."
"Here," Emelaine grumbled, tossing a bag of coins at his open palm, "There is plenty."
"Wonderful!" he smiled, and gasped suddenly at the woman's efforts, "Would you two lasses desire a drink?"
Emelaine rolled her eyes and climbed the stairs, her ego burned down to nothing with the news of the human's life still in her mind. Pleasured moans and cries of fear were heard from the many doors she passed on the way to her own. She opened a pouch on her waist for the thick brass key to open the door. Still her thoughts continued on how she could cause anguish in Scai's heart any further. Though she had done well enough to procure the warlock to cast wicked spells on the human, and with that the elf gained more. The human would be tormented, and it would take no effort by Emelaine.
"Though that isn't much fun," she sighed, the lock snapping open, "I'll have to help the little girl along."
Emelaine smiled at the thought of the girl's warm blood on her hands. She shivered in satisfaction, and she shut the door snugly, locking it behind her. She lit an oil lamp as she hummed a song that was an oddly familiar tune.
"Brings back such fond memories, doesn't it?" a voice whispered fiercely.
The wind left Emelaine's lungs as she hit the wood floor, the deathknight atop her. The draenei's arm swiftly wound around the elf's neck and the other arm held it, a vice the woman could not escape. Emelaine gasped and coughed, her neck pulled by the deathknight's grasp.
"Let-" she gagged ,"Me..go."
"First things first, Emelaine," Scai hissed, "I know you're not resourceful enough to cause such a disturbance in the mind of my love. So, who do I need to kill?"
"I can't.."the elf gasped ,"breathe.."
"I could break your neck, little elf," Scai grinned maliciously, her grip tightened; "Swift flick of my wrist! No one would miss such a vile urchin such as yourself."
"Pl..ease" the elf begged.
Scai released her, and the deathknight stared down at her as the elf flipped over and gasped for air. The draenei's foot thundered down on Emelaine's chest, the oil lamp barely giving enough light for the two to see one another. Shadows covered most of the elf's face as she spit at the deathknight and cursed her.
"I have no one to miss me because of you, murderer," Emelaine glared as she tried to push Scai's foot away.
"Lies, I did my duty, it is not my fault you have such terrible timing," the deathknight growled, her heel crushing the elf's ribcage, "I should have finished you off. Blame my weaknesses for elven children."
"But the elven babe did cry, didn't he Scai?" Emelaine yelled as she swung her daggers at the draenei.
Scai paced back as the elf's weapons rushed at her chest, the knives gleamed in the dim light. Scai easily avoided them, and she rushed forward, pinning the elves wrists to the wall. The deathknight pressed hard against Emelaine's wrists, the woman cried out, dropping her weapons to the floor.
"That was another life entirely, another time." Scai spoke evenly, "Now, I will ask you again and you will answer me. I will end you. Who was it that caused Zydien harm?"
Emelaine stilled in thought. The warlock had been right, and if she wished to save her own life it would be best if she were to compromise Mortengel's role. The warlock deserved what this demonic being before her had planned. The human should have completed Emelaine's request.
"Mortengel." Emelaine snarled, "She and her husband, Renglo, have a shop at the Darkmoon Faire. The Soul Eater's Tent."
Scai's head came down upon the elf's forehead, and Emelaine's vision was extinguished. Her limp body fell to the ground. Scai stifled every desire to kick the elf repeatedly; however, a proper fighter would never do such. The draenei picked up the elf and tossed her upon the bed. The deathknight's glowing eyes stared at the unconscious being. Emelaine was beautiful, but her hate had left her skin with old and new battle scars from each spiteful encounter she had ever spun herself into. Scai left the door open with the elf vulnerable, where anyone could find her.
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