Reunions, Pt. 1

[Thrysta]

(Two years ago...)

He watched her.

He watched the dwarf fall dead.

He watched her collapse in exhaustion.

His dessicated hands curled tight around the hilts of blades he longed to use.

Now, while she's weak, he thought. I can take her.

He flitted from shadow to shadow amongst the trees, moving close, readying himself.

Wait.

He crouched low just as she threw her head back, screaming, beams of light stabbing
into the heavens from her eyes and mouth.

What the...

The beams faded and she was crawling, talking, mumbling. Pawing at the air.

Crying...the bitch was crying...

He watched, unsure of her actions.

What is she doing? Who is she talking to?

He moved closer.

He could hear her now.

"...no my beautiful birds...oh do not fear me...oh sweet mercy please! This is just a
vessel! It is just a husk...I suffer it...suffer it to be with you again...oh please!”

She reached out to the thin, cold air, crawling like a penitent as if something lay before
her. He froze in shock at her words.

Her beautiful birds?! HER beautiful fucking birds?!

He readied himself, tensing for a spring that would have him on her before she
could react with those shadow spells he had watched her use.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this...to cut and cut and ruin her like she'd done to his world.

He leapt, already stabbing down with his blades just as an explosion of blinding light
blasted him backwards among the trees. He yelled in shock and fear as he tumbled back
amongst the snowy foliage.

His head met the trunk of a thick tree, and all went black.

(To Be Continued)

[Thrysta]

(Two years ago...)

He awoke groggily, unsure of where he was or what had happened.

Winterspring. Found her. Stalked her. Explosion of light. Impact.

It all came back in a rush and he leapt to his feet in a whirl of acrobatics.

Wait.

I feel good...I feel damn good...well, good as a walkin' corpse can feel, he thought idly.

Reaching for his blades where they lay nearby, he inspected himself, not finding a single
scratch. For having crashed headfirst into a tree, he felt just right as rain.

Now don't that just beat all...

Sheathing his weapons at his hips, he strode back through the trees, marveling at the sudden
appearance of green shoots, blossoms and verdant growth amidst the snowy scene.

I'll give one thing to that whore...she's got her some power now.

Reaching the clearing where he had witnessed her curious display, he found he wasn't alone.

Now just what the...

The dwarf, the one he had watched her kill, was up on his feet. He was gathering up a large war
hammer and looking around in apparent wonder and confusion at the suddenly verdant clearing.

I know the feelin' there, friend, he thought to himself.

The dwarf's armor was still cracked and rent in places from his battle with the whore, blood still
wet on some of the plates. Despite the damage to the armor, however, he looked completely
unscathed from his previous struggle.

Turning, the dwarf caught sight of him standing at the edge of the trees. The beardling's eyes
widened, growling out some sort of guttural challenge as he curled his gnarled hands around the
haft of his hammer.

"Well, now I just suppose I'll have to make do with you, stunty, since the whore seems to have
disappeared," the Forsaken called out, smirking at the dwarf as he spread his arms wide, bending
into a mocking bow before the beardling.

Straightening, he rested his dessicated hands on the hilts of his blades, tapping them idly as
he winked at the dwarf.

The beardling's jaw dropped, growling in angry indignation at the mocking display. With a roar,
he charged, his hammer cocked back over his head, set for a massive swing.

"Awww...guess we're not gonna be friends, stunty?" the Forsaken murmured, still smirking devilishly.

As the dwarf brought his hammer down in a massive overhand swing, the agile Forsaken spun away,
whirling as he he drew his blades. The beardling's hammer crashed into the spot he had just
occupied, but like lightning it was hooking around in a flat swing, following the Forsaken's dodge.

Sumbitch is strong, swings it like a matchstick, he thought, dropping into a crouch as
the hammer whistled over his head.

Coiling, the dwarf reversed the momentum of the hammer, bringing it arcing back and down for the
crouching Forsaken.

Leaping into the hair, the undead bladesman drew his legs up to his body, the deadly hammer passing
under him with a whooshing blast of air.

Landing lithely, he twisted, whirling back out of range of the dwarf with a flourish, holding his
blades out wide, cocking his head, a mocking smirk once again creasing his face.

Alright, reckon playtime's over...

Roaring in frustration and fury, the beardling again charged, his hammer swinging for the Forsaken in
a lateral arc. A leap took the bladesman up and over his shorter adversary in an acrobatic flip,
one of his blades whipping across the face of the dwarf as he twisted in the air above the armored warrior.

Howling, the dwarf brought a gauntleted hand to his sliced face as the bladesman landed softly behind
him, shoving his other blade deep into a crease of the beardling's back plates. Twisting the blade, he
opened a hideous wound as he withdrew the weapon. Whirling like a dervish, his second blade came around in
a glittering arc to slice deeply across the back of the dwarf's neck.

The Forsaken whipped his blades out to each side of him, the dwarf's blood flying off of each to
glisten on the snow. He cocked his head, an artist admiring his work as the shocked dwarf fell to his
knees like a marionette with its strings cut, mortally wounded for the second time this day.

Sheathing his blades with a casual motion, the forsaken reached his hands into two small satchels at
his belt, withdrawing an item from each.

He looked down at the back of his stricken adversary, shaking his head.

"Damn sorry for this, friend...wrong place, wrong time and all that..." he murmured, then smirked.

"Awwwww who'm I kiddin' now, this was just fun as all get out," he laughed, bringing the tinder he held in
one hand to the fuse of the dynamite in the other.

"The whore didn't tell you her name, but I'll give you the courtesy of mine, friend, even if you can't
understand me one dang lick..."

Lighting the fuse, he tucked the explosive stick into the back of the dwarf's armor before turning and
striding away.

"...name's Wilek, stunty. Don't you worry none, I'll be sendin' you company where you're goin'..."

Wilek smirked, reaching the treeline as the dynamite exploded, showering shredded armor and gobbets of
dwarf across the clearing in all directions.

Looking back with a smirk at the carnage, he slowly turned away, striding off into the forest.

"Now don't that just put a spring in your step?" he murmured, intent on continuing his hunt for the
whore.

He'd find her...no matter how long it took.

[Thrysta]

(One year ago...)


"Friend, I do think this conversation is takin' a turn for the worse." drawled Wilek, his eyes narrowing
as he fixed his gaze on the goblin sitting across from him.

Eyeing the Forsaken bladesman nervously across the tavern table, the scrawny greenskin looked around,
noting the reassuring presence of nearby Ratchet Bruisers. These particular goblins were charged with
keeping violence to a minimum in the rowdy port town. Still, watching Wilek's hands resting on the
pommels of his blades as he sat back was causing the goblin no end of anxiety.

"Hey! I told you, she's gone! Gone! No one has seen her!" the little green monster babbled out, "I've
reached out to everyone...no one has seen her at all for months, like she just disappeared!"

Wilek frowned, then shook his head with a rueful smile. Rising from his seat, he unlaced a fair-sized
coinpurse from his belt, tossing it onto the table before the creature. The bag landed with the musical
clinking of coins, the goblin's eyes lighting up in excited avarice.

"Well now friend, you tried, and that's all I can ask for. Payment for services rendered...you take
care now, fella." With that, the Forsaken strode out of the tavern, not looking back.

The goblin watched him go with a sigh of relief, then turned his eyes back to the bulging sack of coins
on the table before him. He reached for it, greedy eyes locked on his payment.

"Whatcha got there, Grizzit?"

The goblin started, looking up nervously. A rather large Bruiser had wandered over, asking Grizzit the
question while eyeing the large purse with a covetous stare. His hand was inching toward the haft of a
spiked mace slung at his hip.

Grizzit clutched at the bag, standing up quickly, his chair going back over with a clatter.

"Nothing! Nothing! Gotta go now!" Grizzit babbled, clutching the coinpurse to his scrawny chest as he
practically ran from the tavern, making tracks for the road leading out of town.

The Bruiser chuckled, watching Grizzit hurry away.

"Easy money..." he murmured under his breath.

-----------

Grizzit walked quickly out of town, heading for the Crossroads, an outpost where he could arrange for
transit to Orgrimmar and thereby begin enjoying his newfound wealth.

Speaking of which...

His stubby legs still propelling him along the road, Grizzit worked at the drawstrings of the coinpurse,
opening the weighty bag. The glint of gold shined up at him...and something else.

Peering into the bag, Grizzit noticed some sort of device was ensconced among the coins. His eyes widened in
terror as he recognized the mass of wires and metal.

"WILEK YOU-" he screamed as the device detonated.

The explosion immolated Grizzit, twisted gold coins scything through his flesh, the costly shrapnel tearing
him apart in an agonizing instant.

-----------

Wilek sauntered into the tavern once again, nodding at the same bruiser that had recently accosted Grizzit.
Approaching the goblin, Wilek winked, tossing him an identical purse to the one he had given the other goblin.

Catching the purse, the bruiser eyed it warily, looking at the Forsaken with a mistrusting glance.

Wilek smiled. "Open it, friend...it ain't gonna bite you."

The goblin opened the pouch, smiling greedily at the gold inside before closing it and tying it to his belt.

"Pleasure doing business with you!" the goblin chortled.

"Likewise friend," Wilek smirked, turning to saunter out of the tavern, "Always good to work with someone
who actually gets results."

Wilek sighed as he walked out into the dusk, the last rays of the setting sun setting the port waters of
Ratched ablaze in color. The whore's trail had gone cold. Even having some fun with that idiot Grizzit
hadn't improved his mood as he faced the reality of having lost her once again. Still, he knew it was only a
matter of time until something fell into place, until he once again would catch her trail.

Only a matter of time...