Stutter

He turned to look at me then. Peering down his half rotten off nose at me, and I stared right back. Those golden globes looked endless and cold, making me eventually look away. I cast my eyes down to the floor of my 'room'. His footsteps softly echoed as he approached me. I tensed involuntarily as he reached down and picked up a lock of my hair. Rubbing it between his bony fingers, he chuckled and whispered something in gutterspeak. I pulled back in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible. My efforts were futile.

He spent the next few moments inspecting me and muttering things to himself, so I took the opportunity to look him over as well. His head was bald accept for a few strangler grey hairs that managed to stay atop his head. His face was, for the most part intact, except his jaw, which half was missing giving me a perfect view of the insides of his mouth. I definitely could have gone my whole life without seeing that.Next I looked at his robes, which thankfully covered most of his body. They were bland in all respects, white and grey linen that went all the way down to his toes and covered his arms down to his bony wrists. The only colorful thing about his attire was the light yellow sash around his slim waist, and even then it wasn't much. He obviously wasn't of high rank, either that or he didn't care, and why would he if he tended to prisoners for a living. I scoffed at myself and continued observing. His hands were all bone expect for a few pieces of flesh that have managed to hang on, and feet were barely clothed in a few pieces of cloth that were haphazardly sewn together by a mediocre tailor, or by he himself.

My eyes started to droop from no doubt blood loss. Hell, I was surprised I hadn't passed out as of yet. My head bobbed forward and upon seeing this, the priest from what I could guess, started his work. Cold hands pressed themselves to my leg with the long gash running down the center of it. I grit my teeth as I felt him invade my senses none too gently. Minutes passed until he finished with that leg and moved to the next. When the dimly glowing light left his hands, I chanced to look up at him only to find his hands reaching for my face. I jerked back, which wasn't the best idea if the nauseous feeling rising in the back of my throat had anything to say about it. He chuckled to himself and grabbed the sides of my face, placing his pointer fingers on my temples. The invading sense returned, but even stronger than before. Instantly, I threw up my barriers to keep him out of my mind. It was a nifty little trick I had learned from another priest and warlock when I spent my time as an archer in the King's army. The undead priest in front of me seemed baffled then spit out some insult and pushed harder into my mind.

A strangled cry climbed out of my throat. I couldn't handle this, not with in the state I was in. Yes, my wounds had been healed, but the exhaustion was overwhelming, and keeping a persistent enemy out of your mind was draining enough as it is. My head throbbed with the amount of force he was using and beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. I commanded my body forward in an attempt to frighten him, which only worked for a moment before he grit his rotten teeth and continued. I could feel my consciousness slipping from my grasp, making me whimper in distress. Taking this as a good sign, the priest cast a curse on me, making a scream rip from my throat. My insides felt as if they were being torn out of my pores. Tears escaped my dimly glowing eyes as I wailed and pleaded at him to stop. He continued.

My sense of time left me as I tried to hold onto my control on the locks on my mind. The pain was numbing, but not nearly as bad as the exhaustion. I wanted nothing more than to pass out, and I knew I was on the verge of blacking out soon. I vainly shook my head trying to release his grasp on me, but it didn't faze him. I looked up to his face to spit on him when I noticed the fatigue covering it. I was close then. He surely couldn't keep this up, but neither could I. I was on the verge of breaking as it was. Stealing myself, I coaxed myself with encouraging words in an attempt to hold on. Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused all of my remaining energy on blocking him out. What seemed like an eternity was in reality a few minutes before the Priest stumbled backwards and braced himself onto the wall. Hastily, he unlocked the door and left the room, locking it behind him.

I sagged forward, and watched as my tears hit the stone floor. Vision blurring, I cried myself to sleep. Dreams of running through the Ashenvale forest and climbing trees took over my mind. I could almost feel the damp, healthy grass under my feet as I ran towards a glistening lake. I wanted nothing more to feel the cool sweetness of the water on my skin, but upon diving in, I felt nothing. The scenery blackened and I was no longer in the water or the forest for that matter. I was in my old house, peering out the window into the garden where my Papa sat talking to someone of a small stature. He shifted, revealing the person he was conversing with to be me, but of a younger age. I leaned forward and pressed myself against the glass to get a better look. My throat constricted as I saw him laughing with me. Oh, how I missed him and the sound of his voice. A hand softly touched my shoulder and I turned to find my mother standing there with saddened eyes. I turned to her, confused, and she looked between me and the scene outside and started to shake her head before pointing to the door.

The scenery changed again to a boat in the middle of a raging storm. Silent yells could be observed from her vantage point on the deck. She knew this scene quite well, it was her first long boat ride. She had been so afraid of falling off the side; she had stayed under the deck the whole time. She frowned, why was she above the deck then? A strong wave shook the ship, sending her sideways towards the railing. Fear bloomed into her chest as she failed to right herself or grab onto anything. The blackness of the water engulfed her as she fell into its depths. Unlike the earlier scene, she could feel this water. It was biting at her in every direction making her scream and expel bubbles from her mouth only for her to be brought back to reality.

With a gasp, she was brought back to the world of the living, or semi-living, to find herself soaked to the bone and the Priest standing over her.

The torture he inflicted upon her ranged anywhere from taking a scalpel to her skin and lapping up her blood to breaking her bones agonizingly slow and cutting off appendages to the ever favorite mind invasion. She had all but become practically immune to the curses he sent her way. The pain he made her feel reminded her she was in fact still alive. With no sense of time anymore, she couldn't tell how long she'd been in this infernal room for. Days? Weeks? Months? Years maybe? His forms of torture were starting to become routine, which not only started to bore her but irked the Priest, but one day he got a new idea of how to really break her spirit.

It had started out like a normal session : he came in thirty minutes before and healed anything that needed his attention and left, then returned and locked the door behind him. He approached her slowly and reached for her face, making her think he was going to try the barriers in her mind today. Only instead of the invading feeling, she felt him stroke her cheeks and then down her neck. Eyes snapped open when she felt something press to her neck. Lips. Cold, rotting lips. Panic stirred in her, making her jerk away and stare up at him wide eyed. He just smirked down at her before reaching over and adjusting her shackles. Silently, he cast a curse onto her, making her shake in pain. Then, he began. Hands trailed down over her body; first down her neck to her arms then to her waist only to return up and cup her chest. Testing the weight in each hand, he rolled and palmed them before tearing one of the only barriers she had between her and him. Ragged linen shirt fell to the floor and he continued with his ministrations. She cried out, willing him to stop. She had been touched by a man once, but only once, and it had been 'required' of her. If captured, the horrors an enemy could do to a female captive were endless. One of the most concerning was rape. So, before being allowed onto the field it was 'suggested' that they take care of that problem if they were virgins. Not all women did it, but to go with practicality, Kaylrielsia complied and went to a friend to help her. He was a Night Elf like herself, but more seasoned in the art of warfare. She barely had to say anything for him to understand, and for that she was grateful. He had made her first time pleasurable and wonderful in every sense. That had been when she was much younger, and since then, duty over took her life, making that the only time she ever laid with a man, and now this corpse was molesting her. Tears sprung to her eyes and she cursed him, but this only seemed to spur him on. Next his hands slid down to her torn pants and slowly ripped them off. Her attempts to get him to stop were getting her nowhere, and when he tore her underwear off, a strangled pleading cry erupted from her throat. Tears clouded her vision and all she could make out was him undressing in front of her. She turned her head, refusing to look at him. Squeezing her legs tightly together, she prayed to whatever or whoever was listening that this couldn't be happening. Streams of salty tears trailed down her face as she decided to give into the pain of the curse and let it numb her. It worked, she could barely feel him enter her; barely feel his movements inside her. She cried out as she felt the curse receding and truly became aware what was happening. Vomit rose in her throat as she felt him. His thrusts were sporadic, painful and full of vengeance. Her body shook from her cries.

It felt like an eternity until he left. She had no idea how many times he used her body or how long he'd been in the room. She curled into herself and willed the dream world to overtake her, and it did immediately.

That form of torture didn't happen again, much to her relief, but the feeling of waking up different and changed started to overwhelm her. It was after she noticed the pallor of her skin changing that she decided to not look herself over. Something was blooming in her gut though. It was a raging need for blood and redemption. A need that plagued her to quench, and to start with the priest. She started to dream of ways to kill him and everyone in this city, including Sylvannas herself. Oh yes, Sylvannas would be her crowning glory.

Kaylrielsia shook those thoughts from her head as she looked down at the priests limp body before her. Memories she knew would now haunt her forever needed to be pushed away for now. Quickly, she maneuvered the dagger to pick the locks of the shackles binding her. With that complete, she pulled the priests cloths off and pulled them on herself to hide her naked form. She rose and turned towards the door and grinned. Dreams were about to come true.

Ready or not, here I come…