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Abric - Silence

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It was a word that described the poetical, double edged sword. It gave me life as it gave me death. In its embrace I move unseen. In its trap I am a lamb to the slaughter. It is a lover of mine, even now, after my change. During the attack, it was my favored companion. It saved me, protected me, and kept me from harm.

I worship it as a God. A metaphysical being with intelligence and foreseeing I would never truly understand. I must give to it my all, for if I do not I will fall out of favor. I will lose that which I hold so dear.


Even now, I give to it a sacrifice. A dwarven woman, stout with braided hair. She wore the vestments of the Light, and garments of battle. She knew I was here, she had sensed me; her divine influence gave her an edge few had. It would not save her, though. While she may be enlightened to her cause, I had something on my side that was not banished by Light.

She paced erratically across the main room of Silverwing Hold. She had been no bout been instructed to guard this place, just as I was to infiltrate it. There was information the Warsong wanted; plans, rosters, and supply lists. A group of us had been instructed to grab these items from whoever protected them. Of course, I care little for what others want. I was not here for petty fights or useless information. This was my sacrifice, my atonement, my drive. This priest would be my focus, and her death would be mine to choose.


No matter where you were, shadows followed. In this 'great' forest of Ashenvale, shadows were as plenty as the trees and bushes. It was these shadows which hid me. From one to the other, I moved closer to my dwarven priestess. She had finally stopped pacing, feeling false comfort with the presence of some human Kirin Tor who joined her in the defense. He was of no matter to me, though. A fool who, even as I kept upon my priestess, feasted on battle rations to replenish his strength. SHE was my target. SHE was who I would take for my own. My sacrifice was within reach.

I resisted the urge to reach out to her. To touch her, caress her skin, feel her hair. What I was thought only of flesh, but not the carnal desire I once indulged. It was the undead thirst to be living; to bring the warmth again to my insides. Only by devouring life, would I feel life. To devour their flesh as one would a cooked pheasant. To gorge on it as a starving man would; to drink their blood as mother’s milk. But, I was not here to feast.

My claw-like hands stayed their course, reversing the grip of the daggers they held. I was almost on top of her, my dwarven priestess. The warmth of her was felt on my dead skin; the satisfying taste of sweat rolling down her brow touched my tongue. It was hard to focus in such close proximity; but I was no fool peasant to fall prey to its call.


It was a simple action to strike the pommels of my dagger to the thick skull of my priestess. In an exhale of breath, she crumpled to the ground. While I did not kill her, she would be momentarily disabled. The mage, of course, saw his companion fall, jerking up to a standing position. He was no fool, for he whispered a word I did not understand, but I somehow knew.


He attempted to call upon his magic, I knew for my bones vibrated as the arcane collected around him. Though I would never again find pleasure in heat or cold, I was not immune to its effects. The temperature around us started to drop, ice crystals were forming around the mage. The mechanics of this spell I did not know; but the after effects I did. He was slow, though, too slow. Six paces were between us, and in a mere blink of his eye there were none.

The mages spell was disrupted as I seemed to materialize in front of him. The pommel of my right dagger connected with his temple, just as the blade of my left entered the meaty portion of his thigh. He gasped, caught by the surprise and pain of my initial attack. The amount of times my blades entered his body would forever be unknown to me, but I knew it did not take that many to end his life. Even as my body became covered by frost and ice, the mages magic did not save him. He was dead before he knew it; his body fighting it, but losing.


The dwarf priest was starting to collect herself; I heard her moan and attempt to stand. I also heard the rest of her companions coming up a ramp nearby. They spoke words that I once knew, but now did no. They were very close, so I knew my time was over.

Yet... the dwarf priestess still lived. I went to her, pressing my body against hers. Lips I would never again truly utilize brushed against her ear; past the sweat in her hair, past the taste of the unknowing aura that surrounded her. I knew she would not understand my words, she was not meant to. They were for me and me alone.

"You will be my sacrifice, sweet one. You will be my ascension once again."

I left her there, with the mutilated body of the mage. She was found like this, by the rest of her party. The cause of what happened would be unknown to them, for I was no more. I was a shadow. I was with my God. Its embrace once against caressed me with invisible hands and tempting words.


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