Fatal Kisses (For Myrrin's dead self!)

Fatal Kisses
-By Asaoirc

She awoke, feeling the cart rumbling over the sundered earth below her. One of the other prisoners was trying to communicate, speaking a language she didn’t understand. She opened her eyes, sockets filled with the dazzling blue light of undeath. The prisoner, a Draenei, recoiled in fear and crowded against the other corner of the caged cart, along with the other prisoners. Well, she thought. Fear is better than disgust. She looked past the bars of her cage to see where they were headed – a great coliseum. Home of Warlord Morkh, leader of a particularly disruptive band of fel orcs. She had been charged with removing him. Just a matter of time.

Once they had approached the stadium, the prisoners were led down into the depths of the coliseum. She was surrounded and chained in crude cuffs. She smiled to herself. They really think these chains can bind me? Arthas himself could not hold me from my vengeance. She allowed herself to be led to the staging area, and the orcs prodded her with spears, pushing her toward the weapon rack, full of crude swords and other weapons. She laughed at them. How can someone kill with such crude weapons? She flourished her hands, the orcs backing up as her hands were engulfed in darkness. She removed a large, runed two-handed sword, large and imposing, from the rift. It floated above her waist, waiting for her to take it. She grabbed it with one hand, waving her other hand to banish the darkness. She stood there then, daring the orcs to act.

Standing tall, her elven features enhanced by her pale skin. In life, she had been considered beautiful., beating back men with both hands. Until He came, carrying with him promises of love and happiness. His betrayal had caused her death, but even death could not stop her. She became engulfed into the Scourge war machine, enforcing the Lich King’s will as a death knight. All through the slaughter, she had never lost sight of her goal: Him. She personally requested transfer to Archerus, what was left of her free will still wanting freedom, and hoping the Scarlet crusade could help. Salvation came, but from the Argent Dawn, not from the now dead scarlet crusaders. And now she had extended her search to outland, determined to find Him.

The orcs eventually worked up the courage to force her to the entrance of the arena, and she walked up into the harsh light above. The stadium was a crowded one, and there was her target, just to her left on a small throne. Perfect. Nice and close. She looked ahead at her predestined opponent, a snivelling little dwarf, wielding a dented rifle. I wonder if that thing even fires? No matter, he isn’t a threat. She walked herself into the center of the arena, keeping an eye on her target. The dwarf backed up, back pressed against the gate. Good idea, She thought, drawing from her unholy abilities. All of a sudden, arms, heads, and legs, in various states of decay began bursting from the sands of the arena. The fallen of this arena. What a fitting end for these orcs. As she turned herself to the Warlord, the ghouls began to leap and climb up the walls to engage with the surprised orcs. Now, to business.

She looked up at the warlord, watching him bark orders to the orcs, making them form a defensive perimeter around him. Pointless, She thought. She reached out toward her and drew her hand into a fist. Suddenly, we was engulfed in dark matter, struggling to release himself. She pulled him toward her, throwing him to the arena floor. He scrambled up and swiped at her with his axe, attempting to decapitate her. Oh, that wouldn’t do. She grabbed his hand, and it froze in place, solid. He began to panic as he saw the ice enveloping his entire body. She let go of his arm, standing in front of him and smiling. Now, to finish it. She moved closer to his still unfrozen face, his confusion apparent. She let her thin, elven lips just barely pass over his rough lips. She stepped back. There, done. She released him from the chains of ice, and he stumbled toward her. She stepped back as he doubled over and fell, blood pouring out of his mouth. My work is done here. She surveyed the scene of carnage. The ghouls had removed most of the orcs, and were clearing a path for her exit. She also saw the dwarf there, trying to back out through the gate, fear frozen on his face. I actually... feel pity for him. She drew upon her knowledge of the common language of the Alliance. “You, Dwarf!” She shouted. “You may follow me out. The ghouls will not touch you.” Then, with sudden impulse. She asked him his name. “Uh, uh... My n-name is... Asaoirc.” He responded. “Wh- What are you?” That’s a loaded question, Asaoirc. You may not like the answer. She thought for a moment. “Just call me... Fatal Kisses.”