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She was a good girl

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Name: Vertas

Age: 32

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Look: Short black hair, Brown eyes, No piercings.

Vertas was a good girl. She went to school to learn the teachings of the light in the Stormwind Cathedral. She got good markings from Professor Bolvar and was well liked and respected by her peers.

Until they came.

Led by the revered Orgrim Doomhammer of the Blackrock clan the horde trampled over the guardsmen and townsfolk of stormwind. The town of Stormwind seemed to be lost to the horde. Orcish warriors checked every corner of every household, slaughtering or imprisoning each and every Human, man woman and child they found. The people of Stormwind fought hard, and valiently until the last of the alliance's head hung by a twine upon the once great city of Stormwind's lights.

Vertas was scared to death, as anyone would be, and hid in the only place she knew they wouldn't find her. She vaguely remembered a place she used to hide under the floor boards in her Auntie's visitor center, near the gates of Stormwind. There she hid, accompanied only by cobwebs, darkness, and occaisionally got to listen in on some orcish. She had never heard a corpse talk before, but these dead...these FORSAKEN could be smelled a mile away, and she made a point not to breath too heavy when she felt the footsteps of the Undead warrior's Glimmering plate armored boots.

Through the cracked floorboards she could vaguly see a blue-purple creature with a Quiver of arrowes strapped to his back and what seemed to be a diseased worg at his side.

The creature stood on the board right above Vertas's face, and she noticed that his large, callused, bare feet were like nothing she had ever seen before. The worg barked furiously, and it seemed to be communicating with this large footed creature.

She felt the hair on her neck rise as the worg dug at the floor as an armored hand and a skeletal arm grabbed her by the neck and held her high. Her vision turned black.

Dispite her efforts and cries, she was imprisoned in a cage in what she recognized to be "The Pig and Whistle" tavern's basement in the Old town district. She knew exactly where she was taken to, but no idea how she got there.

She reached into her pocket to open her tailoring kit, and remembered how her Auntie used to pick the lock of her room when Uncle Parkers would lock her away. She fumbled with the strange, orcish contraption, and after much hard work managed to break the cage door open.

She could hear mumbling in what sounded like gutterspeak from upstairs, and footsteps of at least six or seven of them.

She carefully stepped into the shadows of the celler, and made her way to the stairs. As she peered into the room in which she heard the noise, she lost her breath as she watched Line after line of Forsaken gathering outside the wide open front of the once well kept Tavern. They seemed to be marching towards something. It seemed like they were headed towards the dwarven district, as if they were securing the entire town for themselves.

*More to come as i conquer my writer's block*

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