Post by illithias on Oct 25, 2008 22:32:08 GMT -5
Planting her boot squarely in the back of the fallen corpse, Illithias wrenched her axe free. Something in her back popped with the exertion. Languidly, she looked around from left to right, confirming with her sight that none of her foes remained. A lopsided grin slowly crept its way up the unmarked side of her face, a post-marital glow spreading through her. Illithias found a perverse enjoyment in fighting the undead; they were implacable foes, single-mindedly devoted to the fight as she was. There was never any quarter, or any retreat. She could fight without any hesitation, letting herself succumb fully to the holy fury that consumed her. Also, there weren't many other ways to end up the sole survivor in an empty hamlet, surrounded by the dead.
There had been a more as of late. A lot more. There was a time, not so long ago (although, truth be told, a few years to a kaldorei shouldn't have been more than just a blink, surely?) when the prowling and marauding living dead were confined to the Plagued lands of the north. This recent spate of outbreaks, all up and down the Kingdoms, was a worry. And a guilty pleasure. Okay, so maybe not entirely guilty, either. But for one who still claimed nominal residence in the forests of Darkshore (it had been a while since she had attempted again to retake her old - original - home, she guiltily realised when she thought infrequently of "home"), and had used the last few years in the shattered realms of Outland, she had spent an awful lot of time in the human lands of Azeroth.
So, for the last few days she had been riding across the hilly lands along the east, living off the land and cleansing the undead where they were encountered. Instances of infected hamlets and hovels were becoming more common, cairns of burnt corpses marking out her progress like a trail. She found herself curving west, until the forests of the lands surrounding the human city became visible on the horizon. After some internal debate, Illithias spurred her great sabre onwards, continuing in the direction of Stormwind.
There had been a more as of late. A lot more. There was a time, not so long ago (although, truth be told, a few years to a kaldorei shouldn't have been more than just a blink, surely?) when the prowling and marauding living dead were confined to the Plagued lands of the north. This recent spate of outbreaks, all up and down the Kingdoms, was a worry. And a guilty pleasure. Okay, so maybe not entirely guilty, either. But for one who still claimed nominal residence in the forests of Darkshore (it had been a while since she had attempted again to retake her old - original - home, she guiltily realised when she thought infrequently of "home"), and had used the last few years in the shattered realms of Outland, she had spent an awful lot of time in the human lands of Azeroth.
So, for the last few days she had been riding across the hilly lands along the east, living off the land and cleansing the undead where they were encountered. Instances of infected hamlets and hovels were becoming more common, cairns of burnt corpses marking out her progress like a trail. She found herself curving west, until the forests of the lands surrounding the human city became visible on the horizon. After some internal debate, Illithias spurred her great sabre onwards, continuing in the direction of Stormwind.