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I've been undead for quite sometime now, it's the usual dramatics at first. You ask yourself all the usual questions, where are my family? am I like this forever? How long is forever?
Now let me be honest, I've seen plenty of mindless bags of bones ask themselves the very same questions day after day, night after night, not giving their new rotting brains a time o' pause or even indulging in the simple pleasures of being immortal! these waste of necromancy don't last long, they either run into a big pillar of holy fire or seek out someone to cast said holy fire! Damn shame it is, but these things happen.
You see, I'm an undertaker, so to speak. Mine's the big wormy grin that welcomes all new members into our big, happy family. I stand by the Val'kyr: Our Lady's, Shadow preserve 'er, pride and joy. I talk over all the melodramatics with the nubs! explain where they can find weaponry, apply their skills or find spiritual guidance in the ' afterlife ', once in a while we play a few pranks on the newcomers..
Y'know, Old Davey from coffin' collection might stumble upon the stiffs of a noble and his wife, we might dress up the lord in his lady's funeral wear and see if we can rummage up one of those nifty murloc costumes for the pampered lady herself! y'know just when they pop out all dull-eyed and rotten tailed they have the pride knocked right out of them! remind 'em who they were doesn't mean nothing here! were all dead, you understand me?
Now.. I personally believe in that, new beginnings stuff right down to the bone, but you get the occasional forsaken who likes to know who he's helping rise, if his new floosey happened to be some sort of two-timing rat in her lifetime! or maybe if the guy whose trying to sell him a horse happened to be one of the most wanted con-man in the eastern area of Lordaeron! You'd be surprised what you can find out just by asking around the usual haunts. I remember one shall we say.. ' Lady of The Night ' who likes to take strolls in the beautiful canals of the underctiy, once offered 'er services to one of The Shadow Popes of the Cult? Guess what he was in life.. He use to clean up gryphon's shite!
Anyway, anyway. I'm getting off track. Lemme explain, one evening the rain was pelting down something horrid, wind was thrashing around and howling like one of those bad omens you hear witches and warlocks talking about. I was at my usual post, just enjoying the eccentric weather and the exciting company of a blabbing ghoul, he liked to talk about his departed wife and how she ran off with one of those Ebon Blades, I nod and murmur my answers, keeping him cheerful enough to carry on his rant.
When I noticed the latest shipment coming in, a small order. Just a few coffins found within The Plaguelands, old stuff, must've died before the plague. But that doesn't mean snot to a Vrykul. I dash through my usual script on the first four brainless and then we get to the last coffin, the ranting ghoul I mentioned before is still present, Old Davey. He seems to be causing some sort of ca'fuffle over the last box. I approach.
" What you screechin' about Davey. "
He snaps horrified eyes at me, a shakeing boney hand jabbing at the coffin.
" It's a bad 'un! we can't rise it! Ain't right! Even fo' us! " He squeels, most of his comments go in one ear out the other, I've grown a impeccable talent for ignoring the useless information people like to spew out.
I quickly disagree.
" A corpse is a corpse! Get a side and let all sparkles and wings do her job! " I shove him aside with little effort but he clings onto my shoulder, muttering out his disapproval at a champion's speed! The Vry'kul remains commentless, they don't like to talk to much.
Now.. lemme explain one thing, I'm not easily frightened, takes quite a bit to shake my boots and rattle my spine but I'm not idiot if a Paladin came charging in with his big hammer held high I'd run for the hills and toss my grandmother at him! But something about what David was spewing caught my attention.
He started talking about Stratholme, most of us call it the burning bag o' horseshit now, but a fair few still remember it as a city of wonder and just as wonderous depravity, the noble district was stone white and lush with trees and all the fancy stuff rich people like to be around. But, the slums were where all the fun stuff happened, you had your great gentlemen clubs, your booze-filled taverns and plently of fancy playhouses that offered cheap first row seats for watching people beat the snot out of each other! I'll never forget the time I saw Lil' Jimmy bludgeon Big Bobby in with his own elbow, that boy had quite the temper! Think he's with Vengence Landing if ma' noggin' remembers correctly.
But Davey wasn't talking about Lil' Jimmy, know from what he was telling me this little lady made Jimmy out to be a right old choir boy, Ivy Blue Covered in Red, or just Ivy Blue most people called her.
He squealed out her name like it was some sort of dirty word. Explained how she violently butchered thirteen men over the cause of six months, and took out three guardsmen when they made the arrest. Crazy as a bag of cats and just as friendly, she use to hunt down men that had wronged her, her family and got caught up in all the dodgy dealings of the district, sounds like she got a flavour for cutting off people's limbs and heads.
Said she was accused of witchcraft, how she was right up there with the Headless Horsemen on bed time stories and nursery rythemes sung to ward off children from darkened alleyways and ghastly forests.
" So why wasen't she hung, drawn and quartered? " I interrupted, Davey isn't the most reliable source of information.
" Oh she w-was hung! Neck snapped in two! " He paused for breath (Not that he needed to mind.) " But the priests, back then they weren't so smart like dem elves or us now, they thought all that bloodshed from a woman who was so innocent before! reckon she was posessed by somethin' fierce, evil! Demon, Troll Mumbo-Jumbo! Even talk o' ghosts. " He hissed, staring at the wooden coffin with a mixture of disgust and un-deniable fear. " I saw her cut off my brother's arms clean off before she smashed his face in with her sword hilt! "
" So we know she can handle a sword then.. " I scoffed, dismissing his disapproval. " Sit! " I ordered.
" But.. Mordo! Wa-- " I shot him a snarl, it seemed to shut him up. He planted his boney behind on the nearby tree stump and held himself.
I'm not gonna lie, all this talk of limb chopping and face smashing had made me nervous, but I dusted off the coffin and inspected it's inscription.
' Ivy Blue, Covered in Red. Light save her soul. '
" It's her alright... " I murmured. But I wasn't going to allow Davey's superstition to un-nerve me.. I've risen far worse then this hag!
My self assurance did nothing for my mood, but nevertheless I clanked open the lid and swept it a side, nodding up to the Vrykul and taking a healthy step back.
" Do it. "
Contactable ingame via Geshel(Alliance)
- Posts : 3252
Join date : 2010-03-19
Love how well this Illustrates un-life as a forsaken, while still telling a personal story.
- Posts : 6481
Join date : 2011-06-03
Age : 31
Location : Netherlands
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