Xelena - Western Plaugelands

Old. Again. Like your grandma.

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“The law is hard, but it is the law.” The elf leered at her captors, bedraggled hair strung about her face. Her ears twitched, and a mad gleam shone dully in her eyes. One of her captors made the mistake of getting to close to the cage. She spat at him, roaring with laughter when she hit her target. “The law be damned,” she snarled, face half-twisted with rage and that mad grin, “I’ll do as I please; I’ll murder you bastards with my bare hands!” She laughed again before lapsing into silence, broken only by her mutterings and shifting about in her cage.

The elf, in and of herself, was dead. She was a Death Knight, raised by Arthas himself to serve in his army of Scourge. She had been “his most trusted knight”, never mind the others, and had willingly slaughtered thousands for him. Until that one. The one damned Blood Elf that had turned her world upside down. Oh, she remembered. Lady Eyones.

Remember Silvermoon, she had said. Called forth flickers of memory. A shadow of shadow’s past. But it didn’t matter. He had betrayed her!

She growled, her mutterings growing as she shifted restlessly within her cage, pulling at the snarls of hair that were barely distinguishable as blonde. The guards, most of them, stepped back, wary of their prisoner.

The elf stopped dead, tilting her head slowly to the side, as an animal might inspect something. It was one of the guards she stared at, holding him in her gaze. Her eyes flashed in the half-light.

“Damn you, Thomas, snap out if it!” One of the elf’s captors stepped forward, but was barred by one of the other guards. “He is lost, Baine,” the guard said, his voice hollow and eyes empty.

They both jumped, as did everyone in the room when the Elf began to speak. Her voice was as hypnotic as her eyes, although in a chilling way that crawled up your spine. “I can boil your blood, then freeze it your very veins. I can stop your heart, rip it out of your chest with the crook of a finger, rip it apart with a flick of my wrist. I can cast a bolt of shadow into your body, make you rot from the inside out. All in the matter of heartbeats.” Her eyes gleamed with a frenzied light now, her grin wider, madder, as if she was taking some twisted, masochistic pleasure in torturing this poor man’s soul. And she was.

Without warning, the guard grew flushed, turning fiery red and writhing in agony. His mouth was open in a silent shriek, but he made not a sound, albeit his twisting on the floor. He turned deathly pale, and began shivering uncontrollably, until his movement became sluggish. “Thomas!” the guard from before screamed, trying to get at his friend, who was now frothing at the mouth. Two guards were holding him back and he struggled against them at first, but he soon became limp, tears streaked across his face. “Damn you,” he muttered, “Damn you the pits of hell!” he screamed, breaking free of the guards and launching himself at the elf’s cage. And above it all, she was laughing.

No one had noticed the man on the floor, as shadow embraced his form and sunk deep into his skin, turning it grey. And without warning, he exploded, sending bits of acrid, smoky flesh everywhere. And where is hit bare skin, cloth, metal, any surface, it burned and sizzled, melting that which is touched. The remaining guards scattered, except for poor Baine, who had taken a hit to his face, which was now largely misshapen.

She touched her forefinger to the metal bars of her cage, speaking quickly and low. There was a brief flash, and the incantation was over. The metal of her cage was now covered with a brief sheen of frost, and when she leaned back and punched it, it shattered with the sound of smashing crystal. She leapt down, landing neatly amongst the fragmented bits of metal, and stood, slowly. The room she was in was a sort of metal lean-to, and she pulled herself up and out into the cold, clear night air. A small breeze lifted up, shifting her tangled mass of hair and tattered rags of clothing. She was in a small clearing, in the Western Plague-lands it seemed, within a run-down camp.

Her eyes, now a glowing ice blue, scanned the camp briefly before alighting on her sword, and belt. Loping over with the casual grace of a wolf, she chuckled as she hefted the weapon, strapping the belt and sheath around her. She off into the misty forest, not minding her bare feet, chuckling along the way.