Forsaken (a World of Warcraft fanfic)

FORSAKEN

Grey and white mist swirled impatiently around the rogue as he stalked his way through

the alien landscape, glimpsed occasionally as the fey mist parted. Twin spiked maces held at the

ready while his lime green eyes scanned continuously for unseen enemies. Each measured foot

step brought him closer to his goal...whatever it might be. The blood elf had no recollection how

he arrived here or where he was going other than something was compelling him to move

onward. The only sound was the creaking of his blackened leather armor even his breathing was

inaudible due to his years of martial training.

Slipping his enchanted cowl down from his head hadn’t help his senses determine what

was urging him forward despite his razor sharp senses reaching out all around to gather even the

slightest disturbance around him. So he continued his slow measured path forward toward an

unknown destination and possible enemies.

Several tense minutes later the mist dissolved as rapidly as it had appeared, revealing two

blood elves in dire peril. To the rogue’s left was a beautiful female sprawled out on her stomach

with a threatening darkness about to envelop her. She had managed to push herself up to her

elbows and was reaching out imploringly, tears cutting dark rivulets down her face as they cut

through the peacock blue kohl of her eye make-up.

His eyes were torn from the hapless lady by sounds of battle to his right. A lone paladin

was surrounded by a score of the undead Scourge. His shining armor hung in ribbons from a

bleeding body while his shield dangled broken, swinging wildly as the holy warrior swung his

glowing sword viciously side to side keeping the deadly mob at bay. Once the rogue believed

the elf fatally crushed but holy fire erupted from the ground causing the lifeless monsters to fall

back again in fear.

The two warriors’ eyes made contact and the rogue’s heart lurched into his throat. Slowly

he looked back at the young woman who was arching spasmodically as the darkness danced

around her and a weakness of the heart crept through him, dropping him to one knee.

“No. No it cannot be.” He spoke in a agonized whisper. “It isn’t fair to ask me to choose.

The heart of my heart or my...”

“Brother!” Yelled the paladin. “Brother, aid me! There are to many for me to face

alone!”

Fear and loyalty drove the rogue to his feet and he made a step towards his doomed

sibling, but before he could take a second step the woman let out an anguished scream. He

stopped in mid-step and looked back at her. She was looking directly at him, long shapely

fingers reaching out to him. Eyes full of pain and terror begged him to come to her aid.

“Narizz! Nariizzzz!” She screamed as the shadow swirled around her, through her

making her lithe form spasm in agony. “Help me, my love! Help meeeeeeee!”

His heart breaking as it had done those many seasons ago, Narizz made the same choice

as he always did. “I am sorry Mellay, I am sorry my love.” With a hushed whisper Narizz rushed

to his brother’s aid chased by the ravaged screams of the tortured female elf.

“Narizz! I love you, please save me! Save Me! SAVE MEEEEE!!!!!” The screams tore

through him worse than any mortal weapon could or ever had.

Preparing to drive his maces into the back of a zombie, Narizz was stopped in mid thrust

as a pair of grass green eyes blinked into existence in front of him. Lime green flames sprung to

life around the pumpkin sized orbs and a menacing voice drove through the rogue’s head like

icicles.

“You betrayed me...now it is my turn to return the favor...” Pain blossomed in his head

making the icicle voice seem pleasant by comparison and it was Narizz’s turn to fall screaming

to the floor.

Reaching for his throbbing head in haste nearly caused the blood elf to fall from the

saddle of the wind rider as it made its approach to Silvermoon City. He must have dozed off on

the long flight from Undercity and he was grateful that he had secured the safety straps that had

prevented him from falling from the giant bat’s broad back to become a smear on the landscape

far below. The rogue had that dream many times but the eyes at the end had been new and so

had the mental attack. Narizz dreaded to think of the meaning behind the new edition, but it

changed his plans not at all. He was returning to the city of his birth after four cycles of the

seasons. Four long seasons spent in the service of one war or another as a part of the mercenary

group known simply as the Blooded. A fiercer group of Horde warriors was unknown and they

had fought many suicidal battles in the name of the Warchief, stealing victory after victory from

the Alliance and their allies. Narizz often wondered if that had been why he had stayed with the

notorious band, hoping that once maybe they would fail and free his tormented soul.

The alabaster white towers of Silvermoon rapidly drifted into view as the wind rider

raced across the Dead Scar, crimson banners fluttered atop those towers and balls of green-white

fey energy danced hypnotically between the lofty spires. A dull ache began to leech at Narizz’s

heart as he approached the magical blood elf city, memories that had been suppressed for years

flooded back unbidden nearly overwhelming the dour warrior, but years of military training

kicked in and squashed the unwanted intrusion. With a sigh Narizz dismounted the large brown

bat and rubbed a fist into the knotted muscles of his lower back.

Loosening the heavy spiked maces in their frogs, Narizz’s gaze lingered over the walls

and bridge that lead to the Shepard’s Gate and inhaled deeply. The sharp scent of magic covered

with the thick scent of the Eversong Forest with a hint of the sweet-musky odor of bloodthistle

brought a smile of remembrance to the elf’s handsome face.

“No matter what, it is good to be home even if possibly for the last time.” He spoke to

no one in particular. With a casual grace, he flipped the wind rider master a gold for her services.

“Keep the change, love.”

With an appreciative eye taking in Narizz’s muscular frame and the self-assured manner

he held himself the pretty blonde gave him a sly wink. “If there is anything else you’ll be

needing help with good sire, my shift ends at sundown.” She finished with a feral grin.

“If I don’t find what I’m looking for in the city I just might do that.” His smile matched

her own but she could tell by his eyes that his words were for her sake and that he wouldn’t

return. With a wistful sigh she watched as the rogue slipped his thick cloak over his head and

swiftly strolled through the city gates.

The self sweeping broom brought a chuckle to Narizz’s lips as it pursued a long-haired

tabby that had made itself comfortable on the stoop of the Dusty Lantern tavern. Making sure his

cloak shadowed his face he slipped into the dimly lit bar and hesitated momentarily as his eyes

adjusted to the low lighting. A cursory sweeping of the common room’s inhabitants showed

Narizz that his contact was sitting in a corner booth attempting to cajole a nervous buxom

barmaid out of more than her normal wares. The troll’s sky blue skin stood out in sharp contrast

to the pale skin of the young lass as he tried vainly to get his gangly arms around her slight waist.

With a dexterity of a veteran serving girl she deftly slipped the encircling embrace while keeping

the tankards full on her weaving platter.

“Good to see your way with women hasn’t changed Bolath.” Narizz gave his fellow

rogue one of his amused lopsided grins and folded his gauntleted hands across his chest.

“Nar! Good to see you, mon.” The troll rogue returned the elf’s smile with one of his

own, showing several sharpened teeth framed in by a pair of ivory tusks. All but forgotten, the

grateful lass slipped away, but not before whispering a thank you to Narizz that he dismissed

with a nonchalant wave. “Av.’ a seat an a drink on me.” Bolath motioned toward the empty side

of the booth with his hand while his eyes sadly watched the swaying backside of the barmaid

disappear into the mass of patrons around the treant-wood bar.

“Why don’t you find yourself a nice troll girl and settle down on some secluded jungle

island Bolath?” Nar ribbed as he slid into the cramped booth. The rogue made sure he could

slip his deadly maces free easily before he turned his attention back to his compatriot.

“Av’ you seen a troll woman up close mon? Dey got fangs! You know what dey do with

dem fangs, Nar?”

Narizz shook his head no and took a long pull from his tankard to hide his widening grin

so not to ruin his friend’s tirade.

“If you don’t satisfy dem, dey eat you with those fangs!” Bolath finished in a

conspiratorial whisper as he leaned towards the blood elf and shivered. Both fighters burst out in

laughter and raised their frothy tankards to one another.

“Battle, glory, and women,” proclaimed Narizz.

“Blades, praise, and babes,” answered Bolath.

“For the Horde!” They roared in unison and downed their mead filled mugs, not spilling

a drop of the precious amber liquid.

Wiping the froth from his lips with a heavily calloused hand, Bolath studied Narizz

intently, as if looking for something inside the elf.

Knowing his long time friend well, Narizz let the troll start the conversation on his own

terms rather than interrupt Bol’s mental musing. After a few awkward, silent minutes the troll

rogue let out a sigh of what seemed to be resignation to Narizz’s perceptive ears.

“You know Narizz, dis mark be no like any other you have been after. Dis one will

change you forever.” The previous mirth had fled from the troll’s normal mischievous eyes and

concern had settled in.

“I know my friend, but what choice do I have?” Narizz questioned, sorrow gilding his

quiet reply. “I should have put this demon to rest long ago.”

“Mebbee. Mebbee not.” The troll gave a noncommittal shrug of his lanky shoulders.

“What I do know is ‘dat you better keep your head straight or you won’t be cumin’ back from dis

one mon.”

“I will keep that in mind, Bolath. I swear it.” The rogue swore seeing the doubt in his

friend’s worry creased face. “Now where is she?”

Reluctantly Bolath answered, “Da Blue Peacock. She be workin’ at da Blue Peacock.”

************************

Narizz sat in shrouded silence at the Blue Peacock’s ebony, marble bar nursing a crystal

flute of moonberry wine more for appearance than any desire of the sweet, nutty spirits. From

where he sat the rogue was able to keep an eye on both the tavern’s elaborate stone entrance,

carved in the relief of a peacock’s splayed tail feathers (the owner had even splurged to have a

mage make the plumes glow with fey energies that caused the feathers to shift through some

myriad shades of blues and greens) and the common area.

The patrons of The Blue Peacock were as varied and colorful as the feathers of the

tavern’s namesake. A pair of undead gladiators sat quietly in one corner, the warrior’s heavy

mail showing recent wear while his healer glowed from the holy power emanating from her

blessed shroud.

The priest still displayed remnants of the beauty she had possessed in her past life, but the

warrior kept his visage hidden behind a great horned helm. The fires of hell burned from the eye

sockets when the Forsaken turned his chilling gaze on Narizz as if sensing the eyes of the living

on him. A brief second was all the undead locked gazes with Narizz, but a ball of ice coated with

a thin layer of fear formed in the blood elf’s stomach. With a slight tip of his nightmarish head

the undead acknowledged the rogue and then turned his attention back to his woman.

Narizz’s muscles relaxed and he removed his hands from the familiar hafts of his

enchanted maces letting out a scarcely audible sigh of relief. The Forsaken may be allies of the

Horde, but the elf had lost too many comrades and friends at the hands of the brutal Scourge for

him to accept any undead as anything other than vicious monsters bent on extinguishing all life.

A group of orc and tauren adventurers occupied the main part of the tavern and was the

source of most of its noise.

“I win again!” Bellowed coal black furred tauren, flexing his massive muscles. “Now

pay up Gorflek.”

“It’s a fluke,” growled a grizzled orc shaman while he rubbed his sore shoulder. “My

elbow slipped in a puddle of mead. Let’s go again, double or nothing.”

“Don’t you ever learn shaman?” Asked another tauren between swallowing chunks of

greasy mutton. “You have tried to best my brother in arm wrestling since we left Orgrimmar last

week. Face it Gor, Montish is just too strong for you, but if you are so intent on being parted

from your gold I’ll take that bet too.” Sheep-eater grinned as he threw a heavy, bulging pouch

onto the table by the other two bets.

“My brother is right Gorflek, but if it’s another lesson in humility you need then I am

ready to teach.” Montish rumbled.

The orc shrugged his broad shoulders and placed his elbow on the table. “We will see

pups,” the cunning Gorflek mumbled to himself. The shaman leaned over the table as he and

Montish locked powerful arms. Veins swelled and biceps bulged as the two contestants tried to

overcome one another.

Narizz watched in amusement as the shaman’s other hand slipped under the table to place

a totem and if he was a betting man, the blood elf believed the tauren was about to see his

winning streak end as the shaman’s earth totem boosted his strength with the power of the

elements.

Watching in eager anticipation of the prideful warrior’s defeat, Narizz felt a tingle at the

base of his skull. A tingle that year’s of martial training meant danger. The mirth forgotten, the

rogue scanned the room intently for the source of the sensation of danger and found an olive

skinned orc with a spiky blue mohawk staring at him with hate filled eyes.

As luck would have it, Gorflek chose that moment to slam his opponent’s meaty hand to

the table.

In disbelief and anger Montish hastily jumped up from the table, accidentally flipping it

over and revealing Gorflek’s deception. The three adventurers stood briefly watching one

another then action erupted all at once. Gorflek snatched the spilled pouches with one hand and

dropped yet another totem with the other as Montish and his brother lunged for the orc only to be

slowed down as if marred in an Un’ Goro tar pit as the totem of binding’s magic activated.

“Cheat! Deceiver!!” Montish roared at the fleeing shaman. Enraged even further by the

snail pace he was moving at the warrior drew a notched longsword and waved it at Gorflek.

“Come back and fight with honor!”

“Two to one?” Gorflek sniped back. “Sounds like the Alliances version of honor to me.

Are you sure you two are tauren and not human?” The watching spectators burst out with

laughter and jeers at the frustrated bull-man infuriating Montish to the point where his massive

body quivered with frustration and rage.

“Don’t worry brother. I’ll catch him.” The other tauren shape-shifted into the form of a

powerful hunting cat and with a primal roar of challenge bound from the impairing effects of the

totem only to be nearly frozen solid as a ball of ice cast by the shaman caught him square in the

chest, slowing the druid back down.

“Look me up when you calves get a few seasons under your belts and we’ll do this

again.” Gorflek taunted from the safety of the tavern’s entrance and with a prayer of thanks to

the spirits a gesture of his hands the shaman turned into the spirit of a wolf and raced off into the

city.

Hot on his heels a group of magisters and a pair of arcane patrollers showed up to escort

the protesting brothers none too gently from the Blue Peacock and eventually the city gates.

Forgotten during the skirmish, Narizz scanned the room for the peculiar orc that he had

been sure was watching him, but as luck would have it the orc was nowhere to be seen.

Wondering where the orc could have gone Narizz rose from his seat with the intention of seeking

out Mohawk when the lights dimmed and the most beautiful blood elf he had ever seen walked

onto the stage.

Walked did not do justice to the way she sauntered to the center of the stage, each sway

of her shapely hips and wave of her hands meant to swirl the provocative silk robe seductively

around her lithe body. Hair the color of a raven’s wing framed an angelic face and slightly

grazed slender shoulders. Full lips that seemed to be in a perpetual pout were laced in the

crimson of a freshly bloomed rose, but her eyes made all that pale in comparison. To any but a

blood elf, the eyes of Narizz’s race seem nothing more than glowing green orbs, but to the magic

hungry elves the shade and glow convey deep and complex meaning. The dancer’s grass green

eye’s glowed with such energy and passion that Narizz was surprised there wasn’t a glow trailing

behind her.

Slowly the music started, a primal rhythm of drums and reed pipes which she followed

with a hypnotic sway of her hips and twirling of her arms. The music pounded faster as the

dancer wove across the stage, leaping and spinning in time to the beat, her skimpy attire

teasingly revealing sensuous glimpses of soft moon-white skin and soft curves.

The tavern had grown quiet, each man and woman mesmerized by the dancer’s hypnotic

movements and fluid grace. All too soon for Narizz the music stopped and the enchanting blood

elf folded her arms around her chest and folded at her slender waist in a deep bow. Although her

body bent toward the stage floor, her face did not and those impassioned eyes locked with

Narizz’s.

Realizing the performance was over the patrons gave the beauty a standing ovation

mingled with catcalls pleas for the dance to begin anew. Stunned by the dancer’s intense gaze,

Narizz had been slow to get to his feet and by the time he did the girl was gone.

“Damn,” he cursed in irritation at being so shocked by the woman’s appearance and at

losing her after just locating her. His heart pounding hard in his chest, Narizz cajoled and jostled

his way to the stage and lept upon the raised dais much to the amusement of the on-looking

crowd. His head swiveled back and forth seeking the way the dancer had made her exit while

the crowd cheered and jeered at him.

“Go get her tiger!” Encouraged an orc hunter, his pet boar snorting in support.

“Save some for us mon!” Yelled a trio of long tusked island trolls.

Narizz paid them no heed and after a few brief moments, he spotted a small door at the back of

the stage. In a flash he plunged through it leaving the noise of the common room behind and

entered the bustling bee hive of performers preparing to go on stage.

“The girl who just performed. Where did she go?” The rogue asked an undead mage

who was juggling balls of fire and ice.

Annoyed at being interrupted, the mage pointed a bony finger toward a room off to the

right while growling something threateningly about catching Narizz on fire.

Hesitating in front of the room’s arched entrance, Narizz took a deep breath to steady his

pounding heart. Bolath had been right. The dancer had been her. His Mellay that he had

abandoned those many years ago to do what he had thought was best for her and their future

together. It had been a bitter lesson.

Narizz had followed his brother in pursuit of the Scourge believing that to fight the

unholy monsters, waging a war of genocide against the undead beasts was the only way to keep

Silvermoon and in turn his beloved safe. A chuckle of irony escaped his lips as he shook his

head remembering the frustration he and the war party had encountered. For every one of the

zombies they struck down, a handful more rose from the ground to take its place. But unlike

their prey, the blood elves did have a finite number to them and after months of harrying Arthas’s

minions the war party was badly gored, weary, and soon to be defeated and its members to join

the Lich King’s swelling army.

Just as it appeared that all hope had been lost, a band of Horde raiders swept in and they

along with their lupine mounts tore down the monsters with blade and claw alike. The raiders

had patched up the surviving blood elves and together they returned to the orc stronghold,

Orgrimmar. Believing that he had at last found the means to keep his Mellay safe, Narizz joined

the Warchief’s budding legion and fought a brutal campaign against the endless enemies of the

horde. War-weary and heartbroken Narizz returned to Silvermoon hoping to regain his lost life

and love.

Placing his hands on the heavy heads of his maces for confidence, Narizz stepped across

the room’s threshold and found the plushly decorated dressing room devoid of any life except a

silver dragonhawk hatchling that was sleeping curled up on a pile of silk pillows.

Running his fingers through his spiky red hair, Narizz looked for signs of his prey’s exit

or intent and saw a thick wooden door hanging partially ajar. The rogue couldn’t tell where it

lead, or if someone was waiting for him on the other side, but he was sure that Mellay intended

for him to follow her. Trusting in his instincts, Narizz threw caution to the wind and boldly

stepped through the door and into a clean, well-lit alleyway leading to the Avenue of Elders.

Dismay washed over the rogue like a ocean wave as watched the many inhabitants bustle

about the crowded avenue. Pages ran to and fro carrying important messages for their lords

while trying to dodge sedans carried by stout tauren or orc bodyguards. A group of Horde

ambassadors followed a pompous blood elf dignitary, seemingly bored as he stated various facts

on the landmarks and buildings they passed.

A flash of black caught his eye just in time to see Mellay, wearing a long close-fitting

black gown, turn the corner of the avenue that lead out of the city. With renewed energy Narizz

rushed after the retreating blood elf and hurried through the winding gates. So intent on his prey,

the rogue didn’t see the broad back of a tauren until he crashed into the man-bull.

“By Cairne’s Horns!” The tauren slid a massive two-handed axe from a myriad of deadly

weapons that from his battered leather harness. “What dog wants to meet their gods so badly to

strike me, Montish of the Ravenhoof Clan!”

Instantly recognizing the volatile warrior from the tavern, Narizz tried to apologize to

Montish not wanting to waste time on a pointless conflict. “Easy friend, I was in pursuit of

someone and did not see you...”

“DID NOT SEE ME!?” Montish bellowed. “Are you saying that I am small and weak?”

The tauren raised the heavily flanged mace menacingly at the back pedaling rogue. “Maybe I

need to teach you a lesson pointy ears!”

“I meant no harm tauren, but trust me when I say this is a fight you do not want.” Narizz

kept his arms held out wide to reinforce his peaceful intentions. As soon as the words left his

mouth he knew they were ill spoken.

With a wordless primal roar, Montish charged the diminutive elf intent on mashing

Narizz into a smear of gore on the cream-colored pathway.

Battle tempered, Narizz easily slipped around the hulking warrior with a feint to his right

and roll to his left, but he realized he underestimated Montish as the tauren’s plate sized hand

snagged his trailing cloak.

Years of lock-picking had kept the elf’s fingers deft and he quickly undid the cloak’s

clasp, spinning free of the bovine fighters crushing embrace and slipping his enchanted maces

free from their resting place.

An audible gasp escaped from the gathered crowd and even Montish’s eyes bulged in

disbelief.

Narizz knew what was causing their awe. Since he had arrived in Silvermoon he hadn’t

had time to remove his tabard. The upraised, bloody orc fist stood triumphantly on a jet-black

field plain for all to see. The crest of Blooded, the Horde’s most deadly and successful military

guild.

“Brother, concede the fight. There is no shame in submitting to a superior fighter.” The

druid came forward placing a gentle hand on his brother’s wide shoulder trying to soothe the

bloodrage that burned in the young tauren’s blood.

“Listen to your brother. You cannot best me and I have no desire to fight you.” Narizz

stated replacing his maces in their frogs and holding his arms out wide again.

Montish shrugged his heavy shoulder knocking the druid’s hand away. “Cheat!

Deceiver!” He roared in anger. “I will smash your puny body and wipe my hairy arse with your

tabard!”

Waving his crescent bladed weapon menacingly at the rogue, Montish deliberately

stalked toward his victim.

With a sigh Narizz slipped into a passive fighting stance biding his time, waiting for the

opportunity to finish the fight quickly. The rogue easily danced away from the tauren’s

overpowered swings until finally, Montish presented Narizz with the opening he had been

waiting for.

The battleaxe whistled horizontally through the air with the intention of cleaving the

slender elf in twine. Narizz dove under the arcing blade and rolled to crouch in front of the

towering warrior, a lock of flame colored hair landing near his hand showing how close he’d

come to losing his head and the challenge. Using the weight of the heavy weapon for

momentum, Montish brought the weapon high above his head to crush the impudent blood elf.

Darting through the tauren’s treelike legs and drawing a balanced throwing knife in each

hand, Narizz drove them deep into the back of Montish’s kneecaps. Bellowing in surprise and

pain the tauren twisted trying to grab the nimble rogue but lost his instead and fell on his back,

vulnerable and exposed.

“Yield warrior. Your wounds are incapacitating but not lethal and can be easily healed by

your brother. Continue and you may not be so fortunate.” Narizz stood above the bull-man, his

hands resting threateningly on his spiked maces.

Staring up at his opponent with brow furrowed in anger, the bloodrage diminished from

his large dark eyes, Montish growled through gritted teeth but lowered his great horned head in

defeat.

Narizz hastily picked up his fallen cloak; fastening the medallion of the horde that

clasped the magical smoke-gray cloak with only partial attention as he rushed through the

dispersing crowd, worried that he had lost Mellay’s trail.

The rogue had nothing to fear as Mellay sat atop a crimson hawkstrider near the city’s

alabaster stable. Patiently she watched Narizz like a silent dark angel, her ivory face giving no

indication of what lay behind those stormy, glowing eyes.

They stood a moment, eyes locked together, then Mellay turned her mount down the path

that lead to ranger outpost Farstrider Retreat.

Narizz allowed himself a small smile. The path forked a little way before the outpost and

the left branch lead down to the secluded sandy beaches on the western side of Eversong Forest.

Although the golden strands would have been an ideal place for blood elves seeking escape from

the hustle and bustle of Silvermoon, few went there because of its haunted past.

Angry spirits stalked the beaches and abandoned academy looking for unwary travelers to

take their agony out on but Narizz and Mellay, young, in love and invincible, had braved the

ghosts and found a secreted cave that became their spot.

The young lovers were enjoying the warm summer day, the salty air as it blew in from the

Forbidding Sea, dispatching any of the tortured souls that drifted to close, and chasing down the

mana wrymlings to steal their mystic energy whenever the desire for arcane power struck them.

Whether enticed by the scent of fresh blood or just in its mindless rambling, a powerful

spirit by the name of Eldinarcus found them. The two lovers soon realized that they couldn’t

best the enraged soul and fled from the monster, their peals of laughter abandoned to the winds

of youthful recklessness. They had escaped into a small fissure in the cliffside and Eldinarcus

had raged unknowingly by.

Fearing that the ghost would catch them if they left the security of the fissure, the two

blood elves had explored deeper into the crack and found a narrow path that lead up the cliff to a

cozy little cave overlooking the sea. Mellay and Narizz had spent their first night together

wrapped in the warmth and comfort of each others arms.

With a sigh for what was lost, Narizz dug his heels into the hawkstrider’s sapphire

feathers. With an indignant squawk the bird-mount raced off down the path.

Narizz reached the crevasse unchallenged, sensing that the rogue was beyond their

meager powers the spirits let him pass unmolested, and found his lost love standing with slender

arms crossed tightly under her shapely breasts staring out over the rolling sea.

“Mellay, the sight of you makes my heart light with joy. I have missed you fiercely these

years past, but the thought of you kept...” He began while he took an eager step toward the

enchanting priestess.

“This was once a place of joyful memories, but no more.” Mellay’s words conjured

memories of tender caresses and whispered promises from the recesses of Narizz’s mind, but her

icy tone gave the rogue pause. “Now, now it reminds me of betrayal and heartache. Here my

beloved promised me that we were forever. That our souls were destined to be one, that we

would marry, and that we would have the perfect life together. But that all changed when the

vile scourge entered our homeland and my love only had eyes for glory and he left me for far off

battles and exotic lands and mysterious women.”

“That is not true!” Narizz protested. “I went to fight the undead to protect you, to keep

them from entering our lands again. Surely my love...”

“SILENCE!!” Mellay had kept her back to the rogue through her speech and partly

through Narizz’s fruitless protest until he had uttered that forbidden word. “Your right to call me

that ended when you left me broken and sobbing on that park bench!” She admonished the

shaken rogue.

“But I found solace from your betrayal, solace in the very shadows that begun to fill the

void you left in me, Narizz.” Mellay’s heart-shaped face was twisted with animosity while her

eyes flared with feral intensity. “The shadows taught me how to gain my revenge. My revenge

against you, LOVER!” The last word carried so much resentment and hatred that Narizz could

only stand dumbfounded as Mellay’s slender body gathered the shadows around her, creating a

pulsating armor of purple and black flames.

“Mellay, I am sorry for the hurt I caused you. I truly believed that joining the rangers

was the best way to keep you safe, but I have since learned the folly of that decision and I beg for

your forgiveness. You are the reason for me to live, and my heart has never stopped being yours

and yours alone.” Narizz kept his hands wide hoping to prevent the unstable priestess from

reacting on her current erratic emotions and to hopefully to see the sincerity in his words.

“Well then Narizz you have no reason to continue living!” She spat.

“I will not fight you Mellay.”

“Good. Then this won’t take long.” Whispering an unintelligible word, Mellay thrust a

single finger at the rogue.

Feeling bands of magic constrict around his chest causing millions of fey spikes to strike

his heart, Narizz gritted his teeth to endure the pain, resisting his training that screamed at him to

strike back. Seconds that seemed to be agonizing hours passed and the pain was gone as

instantly as it had came.

“How does it feel, Narizz? How does it feel to have the one you love hurt you?”

“I...” Narizz managed to spit out before the golden aura around Mellay’s weaving hands

was released and a pillar of holy fire erupted from the sky, striking the rogue and knocking him

from his feet.

Driven insane with revenge, Mellay thrust her delicate fingers at her one time lover.

“You will pay for what you took from me!” A violet band of light sprung from her hands and

tethered the two elves together, fell energies pouring from the shadow priest to rend Narizz’s

mind.

Suppressing the pain to a closet in his mind, the rogue regained his feet and took one

agonizing step after another until he was within striking distance of Mellay, but even then he

kept his weapons at his hips and instead drew upon his heritage to stop Mellay’s casting.

“Enough!” Commanded Narizz as the air around two exploded with arcane energy. “You

will listen to me!”

Stunned by both the intensity of his words and the temporary loss of her mystical powers,

Mellay could only watch wide-eyed as her nemesis approached.

“Now Mellay, listen to me for a moment.” Narizz said in a much softer voice. “Hear

what I have to say then I will trouble you no more.”

“Tell it to the gods when you see them.” Eyes boiling with anger shot darts of ire at the

rogue, glaring with each syllable that slipped from his mouth. “Say hello to your brother for

me.” A wicked laugh tumbled from Mellay’s perfect rosebud lips when Narizz flinched from her

cruelly barbed comment. “You are truly a failure Nar. You have lost all that you care about

through your own incompetence.”

Mellay’s sneer was the only warning that Narizz got that something was amiss before a

powerful force struck him from behind, driving the breath from his lungs and causing his

muscles to spasm uncontrollably.

Fighting against this new wave of pain and working to get his jerking limbs under

control, the battle-hardened rogue spun on the balls of his feet to face this new adversary.

There stood Mohawk at the crevasse opening his hands dancing as he prepared to cast

another devastating bolt.

Narizz could feel that at least three ribs were broken by the shaman’s elemental attack

and Mellay’s magical assault had left him weary but here was an enemy he could release his

mounting frustrations on. The two enchanted maces appeared in the rogue’s had instantly as if

they had always been there.

Timing his attack perfectly, Narizz opened a rift in the shadows and stepped through as

Mohawk cast the ball of lightening. The rift reopened behind the shaman and out poured the

enraged blood elf, his powerful maces tearing gaping wounds that left the orc bleeding profusely.

Grunting with effort, Mohawk managed to get his shield up to block Narizz’s furious

barrage and cast a spell that chilled the rogue’s blood, slowing the fighter’s rapid movements.

But a deadly combination of the blood elf’s natural magical resistance and the hot fury within

him allowed Narizz to burn through the shaman’s spell.

Fear clouded the orc’s bloodshot eyes. In desperation Mohawk dropped a totem of

binding at his feet and shape-shifted into the spirit wolf. With a howl of thanks to the spirits, the

shaman bounded away trying to get some distance between himself and the tenacious rogue.

Unlike the two tauren, Narizz was not a greenhorn to battle and touched a trinket on his cloak

that freed him from the totem’s movement impairing effect. Drawing upon the energy that

rogue’s acquire their mystical powers from, Narizz sprinted after the fleeing orc and caught

Mohawk near the cliff’s edge.

Swinging each mace out wide, Narizz brought the two maces together on opposite sides

of wolf-shaman’s head. Mohawk crumpled to the earthen floor and did not attempt to rise, but

Narizz did not relent. The nimble elf lept high into the air twisting his body to put as much

power into the trailing maces as he could and brought one spiked head and then the other into the

prone orc’s skull. The deadly maces exploded into Mohawk like an over ripe melon, splattering

blood and gore over the front of the panting rogue.

“Very impressive Narizz.” Mellay applauded the battered rogue. “Thank you for dealing

with Ghorkaz it would have been very unpleasant if I would have had to repay his cost for

assisting me in your demise.” A small shudder racked her slender frame.

“But now it is time for us to end this reunion.” Violet and black flames swirled

sensuously like a lover’s embrace once again around Mellay. “Now DIE!”

A skull the size of a large cat and consisting of a ebony core trailing purple and green

flames shot toward Narizz. The rogue reached into his vest to a hidden pocket and withdrew a

object which he flung dagger-like toward Mellay.

The skull and object passed harmlessly through one another on their way to their intended

victims, but where the object bounced harmlessly off of Mellay’s hastily conjured shield to land

with a dull thud at her feet, the evilly grinning skull slammed into Narizz, blasting him from the

cliff to crash into the rocks several feet below.

Mellay let her magical armor drop as she bent down to retrieve the object Narizz had

thrown. In her hand was an intricately carved truesilver ring. The bright silver metal was shaped

into the likeness of rolling waves and the inside bore an inscription. My Heart. My Love. My

Soul. Always.

The calloused walls that had shielded Mellay’s heart over the last few years disintegrated.

Where Narizz’s words could not go the simple ring had, freeing Mellay from her physic prison.

Tears flowed freely down her porcelain face. “Narizz...no...” Grief stricken Mellay

threw her head back and howled wordlessly into the sky until her throat was raw and the tears

stopped flowing, not that she no longer cared but her grasp on sanity had begun to leave her once

again, as the horror of losing her love for the second time once again sank in.

Minutes turned to hours as she sat cross legged on the rough cliff top, her eyes blank,

fingers rubbing the smooth edges of the ring, and muttering to herself, “I'm sorry Narizz, I'm so

sorry.” She repeated the verse as if it were a chant with maybe a hope that the Gods would hear

her apology and bring her precious Narizz back to her.

She was so consumed in her grief she didn't notice the shadow clad figure slip up next to

her, nor did she feel the gentle prod as the assassin, almost mournfully, slipped his curved dagger

under her ribs and into her broken heart that shuddered on last time, then was still.

“Da spirits hear you girl and grant you release from your pain.” The blue skinned troll

whispered reverently into her slowly cooling ear.

With a sigh, Bolath picked up Mellay's lifeless body and carried her into the crevasse

where Narizz's corpse now lay, after Bolath had retrieved him from the rocky shore, while

Mellay had been catatonic to her surroundings.

“I told you Mon dat she be gettin' ya killed.” The troll said as he gently patted his friend's

thigh as he stood up and made ready to leave this sad place.

“I hope the two of ya finally found your peace in this harsh uncarin' world.” As Bolath

slipped through the crevasse and began to mount his raptor, a warm breeze picked up and swirled

around the troll rogue's body, and in it's wake he heard the voices of his friend and the woman

that he had loved more than life itself. “Thank you...” They seemed to say one last time before

making their way into the darkening sky.

“Spirits,” Bolath chuckled, and then gave his reins a quick snap, heading back toward

Silvermoon and a certain barmaid in a avian named bar.