The emaciated figure could still hear the clashes of battle behind her as she reached for a sure grip. Her hands were scarred and bloody, bits of bone evident through her skin. The rest of her was shrouded. The figure wore the cowl and clothing of one under service to the Lich King, but little did the figure know, that the tyrant that had controlled her for so long would soon fall. Belamica had never had a happy life, and so she was used to bad fortune. She had been an orphan for as long as she could remember. For years, she was under the thumb of a cruel master. Having nothing to do with her, at a young age the orphanage at Stormwind put her to work for a local tailor. Georgio Bolero was one of the cruelest men at heart, but none of his customers would have been privy to his temper. No, he reserved that for the one person in his house he thought beneath him, a skinny little Night Elf he’d basically bought from the orphanage. Belamica spent most of her years in the small attic room given to her. When not in some sort of service to Bolero, Bela tailored and designed her own robes. If one thing good had come from the torment of her owner, it was that she learned a skill.
On the side she would mend clothes for the poor and the children of the orphanage, refusing to take money for her services. During the days she was a slave, but at night, she had designed a way to escape. The only window in her little attic room was mostly bolted shut, but with the use of a wooden piece from her loom, she could slip the catch. Stormwind at night time always held so much wonder, and Belamica wanted to experience all of it. Hours were spent wandering the dark and deserted alleys and reading the books in the royal library she could manage to muddle through. All of this happened under Bolero’s nose, and never did he suspect Bela could leave as she chose. But to Bela, where would she go?
Thoughts flashed before her cold, blue eyes as her injured hand sunk into mud. As someone alive she wouldn’t have been able to take the pain, but as an undead minion, there wasn’t much you could feel. Her clothing stuck to her thin figure as she felt the icy tendrils of Arthas’ grasp.
And where are you going! DEFEND ME!
The Night Elf didn’t respond, nor did her pace slow as the threatening voice echoed in her head. Today had been the first day the pull of her Master had been weak enough to manage her own thoughts. Bela didn’t like the thoughts that flooded her mind, all she knew was she had to escape, or die trying. Below her, a battle had begun to rage, and all she hoped was Arthas would be distracted enough to forget her presence. Beside her another figure moved, this one larger and faster than the frail Night Elf. A large Orc, in similar attire to hers was scaling the almost sheer cliff face. He looked panicked as his hood flew down, his bright green skin showing starkly against the gray mountain.
The screech was the first thing Bela heard, the first sign a Valkyrie had found it’s prey. Bela halted her progress immediately as the other Death Knight continued to scramble. It was too late. The Valkyrie swooped towards the mountainside and plucked the man off as if he were nothing but a speck of dust. The ethereal being flapped around for a moment, coming so close Bela felt the brush of it’s wings, yet she kept still. Satisfied that it’s prey had been dealt with, the being zoomed down towards the Orc’s dead body, ready to feast, Bela was sure. She resumed her progress while the sounds of battle grew more and more distant. No longer could she hear the thundering of the undead or the pull of Arthas, and Bela kept climbing. The air grew thin and cold, and the Night Elf trekked across the frozen mountaintop. The cruel wind blew her cowl away to reveal faded sapphire hair and a thin face. Once, it would have held a beauty, but now only housed empty eyes and a sallow complexion. With no fear of the Valkyrie, Bela moved with one purpose: to put as much space between her and Arthas as possible. It took days to reach the nearest settlement, and it didn’t take the woman long to realize no one was kind to Death Knights. By the second hamlet she passed, she learned she needed to steal what she needed. Her mind felt empty, with no looming presence to suppress her own will, she had to make choices again. Her skin protested being exposed to the sun, so as such Bela kept her cowl and cloak on as she snuck from town to town. Not all of her memories had returned, but one thing she could remember was Darkshore. A small hut to the north of town had once belonged to her mother…or so she thought. It had been so long, Belamica wasn’t sure she could trust what she was thinking. As darkness fell on her 5th day free, the Death Knight slipped aboard a boat to Darkshore, hiding within the dark and damp lower decks. The journey was nothing, and went off without the people aboard so much as suspecting her of even being there. Her body aching and mind in turmoil, Belamica broke into the dilapidated cottage she felt a connection to. The roof was half fallen in on itself, but the bed lay mostly intact, if not layered in dust. Dull blue eyes scanned the room with no hint of emotion, as she moved towards the bed.
Sleep.
That was what these were for…
She touched the bed gently, caressing the dust covered blanket. As she eased her body onto the bed, Bela’s eyes closed. Within moments she was asleep, her memories making themselves known in her dreams.
On the outside of the cottage two young guards gazed at the slightly ajar door. “Merleen swears she saw some Death Knight go in there.”
“A Death Knight? Why would one of ‘dem be sleepin’? Don’t they kill stuff….?”
The other guard rolled his eyes at the simpleness of his partner.
“Call for reinforcements. The Captain always says better safe than sorry…” The two men turned and headed back to the village to send word to Stormwind. No one in Darkshore had even seen a Death Knight before, it was a quiet place full of lovely people. There had been talks of other cities where Death Knights had slaughtered entire families without flinching, children and women included. If one of them had shown up in Darkshore, they needed to let the rest of the guard know.
On the side she would mend clothes for the poor and the children of the orphanage, refusing to take money for her services. During the days she was a slave, but at night, she had designed a way to escape. The only window in her little attic room was mostly bolted shut, but with the use of a wooden piece from her loom, she could slip the catch. Stormwind at night time always held so much wonder, and Belamica wanted to experience all of it. Hours were spent wandering the dark and deserted alleys and reading the books in the royal library she could manage to muddle through. All of this happened under Bolero’s nose, and never did he suspect Bela could leave as she chose. But to Bela, where would she go?
Thoughts flashed before her cold, blue eyes as her injured hand sunk into mud. As someone alive she wouldn’t have been able to take the pain, but as an undead minion, there wasn’t much you could feel. Her clothing stuck to her thin figure as she felt the icy tendrils of Arthas’ grasp.
The Night Elf didn’t respond, nor did her pace slow as the threatening voice echoed in her head. Today had been the first day the pull of her Master had been weak enough to manage her own thoughts. Bela didn’t like the thoughts that flooded her mind, all she knew was she had to escape, or die trying. Below her, a battle had begun to rage, and all she hoped was Arthas would be distracted enough to forget her presence. Beside her another figure moved, this one larger and faster than the frail Night Elf. A large Orc, in similar attire to hers was scaling the almost sheer cliff face. He looked panicked as his hood flew down, his bright green skin showing starkly against the gray mountain.
The screech was the first thing Bela heard, the first sign a Valkyrie had found it’s prey. Bela halted her progress immediately as the other Death Knight continued to scramble. It was too late. The Valkyrie swooped towards the mountainside and plucked the man off as if he were nothing but a speck of dust. The ethereal being flapped around for a moment, coming so close Bela felt the brush of it’s wings, yet she kept still. Satisfied that it’s prey had been dealt with, the being zoomed down towards the Orc’s dead body, ready to feast, Bela was sure. She resumed her progress while the sounds of battle grew more and more distant. No longer could she hear the thundering of the undead or the pull of Arthas, and Bela kept climbing. The air grew thin and cold, and the Night Elf trekked across the frozen mountaintop. The cruel wind blew her cowl away to reveal faded sapphire hair and a thin face. Once, it would have held a beauty, but now only housed empty eyes and a sallow complexion. With no fear of the Valkyrie, Bela moved with one purpose: to put as much space between her and Arthas as possible. It took days to reach the nearest settlement, and it didn’t take the woman long to realize no one was kind to Death Knights. By the second hamlet she passed, she learned she needed to steal what she needed. Her mind felt empty, with no looming presence to suppress her own will, she had to make choices again. Her skin protested being exposed to the sun, so as such Bela kept her cowl and cloak on as she snuck from town to town. Not all of her memories had returned, but one thing she could remember was Darkshore. A small hut to the north of town had once belonged to her mother…or so she thought. It had been so long, Belamica wasn’t sure she could trust what she was thinking. As darkness fell on her 5th day free, the Death Knight slipped aboard a boat to Darkshore, hiding within the dark and damp lower decks. The journey was nothing, and went off without the people aboard so much as suspecting her of even being there. Her body aching and mind in turmoil, Belamica broke into the dilapidated cottage she felt a connection to. The roof was half fallen in on itself, but the bed lay mostly intact, if not layered in dust. Dull blue eyes scanned the room with no hint of emotion, as she moved towards the bed.
Sleep.
That was what these were for…
She touched the bed gently, caressing the dust covered blanket. As she eased her body onto the bed, Bela’s eyes closed. Within moments she was asleep, her memories making themselves known in her dreams.
On the outside of the cottage two young guards gazed at the slightly ajar door. “Merleen swears she saw some Death Knight go in there.”
“A Death Knight? Why would one of ‘dem be sleepin’? Don’t they kill stuff….?”
The other guard rolled his eyes at the simpleness of his partner.
“Call for reinforcements. The Captain always says better safe than sorry…” The two men turned and headed back to the village to send word to Stormwind. No one in Darkshore had even seen a Death Knight before, it was a quiet place full of lovely people. There had been talks of other cities where Death Knights had slaughtered entire families without flinching, children and women included. If one of them had shown up in Darkshore, they needed to let the rest of the guard know.