This post contains RP!
You have been warned.
What follows is two scenes from the lives (unlives? second lives?) of my death knights, my night elf first and blood elf second.
If you’re curious as to the relationship between the Death Knight and the Priest in the second story, read the brief bios on this post.
Normal shenanigans to resume on Monday.
The party sat around the fire, dancing flames flickering boldly under the Northrend moon. Despite the efforts of the cheery blaze, plumes of white fog marked the passing breath of the four figures gathered in the firelight. Murmurs of conversation floated across the snowdrifts surrounding them.
A fifth figure loomed beyond the warmth of the fire, barely within the reach of its glow.
Raucous laughter from one of the men at the fire broke out into the stillness of the night, “My, that was a bawdy one! But I’ll tell you a tale to set yer beard a blushin’!”
Tales of grand exploits and conquest flowed as freely as the ale amongst the group at the fire.
“Oy, Inítrí! You’ve been working that blade for nigh o’er an hour! Set aside that whetstone afore ye cut yerself. There’s drink a plenty here, come grab a mug.”
At his master’s side by the fire, a large panther raised his head and peered at the loner in the shadows. The cat’s yellow stare was returned, unflinching, as the long-eared man paused in his single-minded focus on his runeblade. Whimpering, the animal ducked his head in deference to the more powerful predator.
Inítrí shifted his gaze from the cat to its compact master, eyes burning blue and boring through the dwarf’s ale-inspired camaraderie. The group at the fire grew quiet and Inítrí’s attention returned to the whetstone and blade in hand. The hunter shuddered, made a superstitious gesture warding off evil, and returned to his drink.
Shivering, although the night had grown no colder, the men at the fire huddled closer. The fire no longer danced under the Northrend moon.
The warmth of the Light spread across Kaayn’s chest, knitting his torn flesh back together.
“You really should be more careful.”
The words were benign, but the voice was venomous.
Taken aback, Kaayn looked up at his healer and was met by green eyes seething with contempt.
Satisfied that his charge was well enough to finish mending on his own, the priest moved down the line of wounded soldiers on cots, mildly chastising each for their lack of self preservation.
Kaayn watched as the blond elf moved farther and farther away.
“Ha! That one’s right mad at you. You didn’t get blood and guts on his pretty dress, did you?” The query came from a well-scarred orc at Kaayn’s side.
Hanging his head, Kaayn replied, “I don’t know, Captain.”
“Eh, you probably just remind him of someone that owes him a bit of coin or stole his woman. Or maybe he’s one that doesn’t agree with the Warchief letting your kind into the Horde. But he seems to have patched you up well enough. You report for duty first thing in the morning. Get your gear and head back to the barracks.”
Orders given, the one-eyed warrior stomped off to check on others from his unit.
Sighing, Kaayn bent down to retrieve his chest plate.
He reeled as darkness overtook him, the tent disappearing from his vision and replaced with nothing. His blood froze in panic, was this the long reach of the Lich King pulling him back?
No! I’m free of you! I’ll destroy myself before returning to you!
Half a dozen hazy memories of the atrocities he committed welled up, most notably the pale face of the woman that had claimed to be his sister, dead by his hands.
Blinding light replaced the pitch black and the feel of spring flooded his senses. Fear faded into confusion and bewilderment. If this was an attempt by the necromancers to pull him back to his service of Arthas, it was unlike anything he was expecting.
He found himself running through tall grass, a wolf bounding by his side, tongue lolling from its maw. The sun was hot on his face and he sprinted without a care; until the ground became uneven and treacherous beneath the sea of green. A misstep sent him face first to the ground, pain lancing from his twisted ankle up his leg.
His lupine companion demonstrated its concern by enthusiastically licking his face. Laughter distracted him from the pain, and pushing the exuberant wolf aside he turned to scowl at the youth enjoying his misfortune.
Brushing his blond hair out of his face, the other elf knelt down and touched Kaayn’s swollen ankle. As the warmth of the Light spread through the injury, he said with a smile, “You really should be more careful.”
The blackness engulfed Kaayn once more. Opening his eyes, he found himself braced against the cot in the triage tent. He looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed his episode.
Slowly, he stood and finished gathering his belongings. He moved through the rows of cots and made his way to the door flaps of the pavilion. Before he exited, he turned and found the blond elf staring back at him, green eyes filled with sorrow.