Post by rhivesha on May 8, 2015 23:25:33 GMT
(I wrote this while I was away)
A Costly Mistake
It was a night like any other. With the cover of darkness she entered the Cathedral Square. Dodging the nightly patrol was never an issue. With her figure concealed in the shadows she crept through the dimly lit entry into the Cathedral.
The unsuspecting monks and priests sat upon the benches around the main hall of the Cathedral as they neglected another night of opportunity. It was like clock work for her to enter the Cathedral to acquire another report. For years she entered this Cathedral and it wasn't always as beneficial as tonight. What she came for on this night would begin her people's unhindered offensive of the Alliance and path way to hinder the Light for years to come.
Through the main hall of the Cathedral tucked away on the far wall was a room. Within this room on most nights sat s single guard in a chair to the left. The guard was lazy and complacent. Through the late hours of the night the guard would leave his position and stroll about the Cathedral to wake himself up. Disregarding everything he was there to protect. Opposite the guard was a table, on it sat two candlesticks which provided a constant light for documents, books, reports and whatever the leadership of the Cathedral felt needed attention.
On this night the contents that rested on the table would change the war between the Holy Light and the Shadow.
As she approached the room she noticed the guard was making his rounds out of the Cathedral. She took the timing of his exit to enter the room. As she strolled silently toward a large bookshelf in the middle of the room she gingerly strummed the bindings of the leather bound books with curiosity. She was an advent reader and had a passion for history. As her hands followed her brittle fingers across the shelves her attention was captured by a few finely wrapped parchments that rested on the well lit table in the corner. Her eye sockets stretched with delight as she quietly approached the table. Her agents among the living proved worthy of the gold she had dished out to them for years. As her outstretched hand neared the tightly rolled parchments a voice from the corner revealed its owner.
"Do you believe in your cause?"
FIRE... The only option
Bound by the neck with a heavy steel collar that hung in the middle of the cell from a the ceiling and shackles upon her feet that were chained to the floor. They knew she could stand there for days even years without tiring in the middle of that cell But that was not their intention and she knew it.
Enter the inquisitor. A tall thick man that had aged poorly. Obviously his life had taken s toll on him or lack thereof. His breath smelled of ale and meat. His beard stained with the remnants of the same. As he approached her he carried two items. The first was an unlit torch and the other.... A lit candle.
She laughed with great amusement as the inquisitor approached. As he neared her He smirked raising the lit candle to the torch. The torch lit the room reducing the shadowy darkness in which she took comfort in.
She followed the man's eyes as he stretched the torch toward her body. Singeing the skin on the left side just below a branding in the shape of a small ribcage. She merely grimaced slightly as the man chuckled.
A Cold Presence
He withdrew his actions as dark figure entered the cell. As the figure approached a gloomy frost crawled the walls of the cell and that torch began to fade. Darkness consumed the cell faster than the light had swept it away. The captive raised her head to the approaching figure and as soon as she found the figures eyes it spoke.
In a low tone of a woman's voice the figure spoke
"This is her. I'll take it from here"
A New Pain
The woman revealed herself with a tug of her hood. Her eyes glowed of sapphire and her hair touched with frost. As she raised her head to the captive she revealed an angelic face with dark full lips. The captive knew this was no mere blood elf. This was a San'layn, a Darkfallen. The captive's mind began to race. It cannot be. Scourge? The figure spoke again.
"All will be revealed once you are mine. Lightslayer."
The figure raised her hand to the side of her captive's face and as their eyes met the captive cried out in great pain.
A few days later she was free. Facedown near a stream south of Chillwind Camp but free. She needed answers and the only place to find them was through her counsel. She sent word to her contact with the Cult that she sought guidance. She waited days in Darrowshire without response. She continued to wait. As she condemned herself to the darkness of the ruins she called home, she paced and pondered. She reenacted every gesture and every step of her captivity in her mind. She found nothing. The inquisitor... The cell... The San'layn. "Scourge filth" she harped in frustration. Scourge... she pondered. That doesn't make any sense. A San'layn bound to the Scourge wouldn't act in their own interests.... What interest would they have in her... She thought of recent encounters... Faces... Figures... Battles... Meetings... Nothing made sense...
Then it hit her....