World of Warcraft®

Haelolin's icy gaze shifted from the falling water of the fountain. Behind her, another plate-clad guard traipsed the cobblestone walkway near the keep of Stormwind. Rage burned in her decaying bowels at the rising thoughts in her mind. Right now, she would accept even that type of position. Anything to get back into fighting. Well, damned near anything. How long had she been out of commission? Not Wrynn's commission, but hers. With a distant stare, she focused her eyes back upon the fountain that dominated the stairway landing in the front of the keep.

A subtle breeze whispered by her elven ear, picking up a few strands of ivory hair and tossing them about in the wind, like spiders weaving a delicate web. Habitually, she clenched and sawed her teeth a bit as she gazed at the fountain with a skeptical glint in her cold, dead eyes. This was not her. Demoted to a chamberlain? Costs..figures..estimates..This was, it was degrading!

She was suddenly surprised, and a bit disgusted with herself. How had she gotten here like this...? Waiting. Waiting for what now? Her atonement for her former atrocities against the city was over long ago. She'd stayed in the north with a plan of her own, which had collapsed to her dismay. With Wrynn's troops being ordered to the scorched, battle-stricken molten front, she had no sway in the decision. She had lost. Just as she'd said to Miragule, only..it was just beginning to sink in. It triggered something within her. A memory? A desperate attempt to regain who and what she was? Perhaps both.

Once, long ago, she would not go down without a fight. She took pride and pleasure in each challenge that showed itself upon her barracks landing. The paladins of the old order were gone. Migrated or simply dead, it did not matter. One soulless body went on to exist, long after their departure. She would commemorate them the way she used to. By degrading everything they stood for. By killing indiscriminately. She'd looked upon her inner self, only to find that she'd been tamed, right under her own nose. The thought urged the corner of her lip upwards in a hate-filled sneer.

"No.." She whispered through an icy, husky growl. "No longer." Killers were born..or created for a reason. Without death and destruction, life wandered on aimlessly. There was a balance to keep. A bloody one. The thought of being the despised portion of that balance brought something akin to pleasure to her. If her cold, decaying body could feel, this was the closest thing to it....and she wanted to feel again.

With a sneer that twisted slowly into a sadistic smirk, she grasped the end of her halberd which hung, with seeming regret, like a rejected lover, upon her back. Far too long had her carefully maintained blades been neglected. "No longer.." She growled as she unsheathed her weapon. How she missed using it for what it was meant for. Inflicting pain, death and sorrow. She needed no reason. Reason was for those with morals or an agenda. It felt good to disrupt the balance.

Haelolin touched the amber focus crystal around her neck and summoned her nearby drake from the shade of a thick oak tree overlooking the placid lake to the west. Onyx scales and beating wings tore away from the foliage, leaving the shelter of the branch it perched upon. Haelifur's bellow of protest cascaded into a roar of obedience as he landed with a loud 'thud' upon the keep grounds, sending debris and earthen elements scattering across the ground.

She swung herself into the bloodied chain mail saddle of her drake and continued to hold on tightly to the focus crystal around her neck as it burned with an amber hue, communicating her order to her drake. A furious cry rang out from both drake and rider as the beast took off, sending great gusts across the ground below. The time to rise again, was now.. Dormant no more, death would return to the lands that had grown so peaceful.

Amidst the mist and fog that blanketed the landing of Zeramas, the figure of a drake and rider appeared, cutting through the air with only the sound of beating wings and a ferocious war cry. By the time the lingering troops glanced up, the fiery hell was already upon them. Haelifur roared in protest as Haelolin pulled back harshly on the drake's chain reins. "Open Wide! heheheheHAHAAHA!" Instinctively the black drake spat forth a vile combination of fire and stomach acid, drenching the landing and most of its troops in flames and armor-melting acid. Some had time to scream, others stood in shock as their former general grinned menacingly from upon the back of her familiar black drake.

What was left of the north force was HERS! SHE trained these troops, and SHE would reap the reward of her labor. Most had already packed up and gone to the molten front. But the servants, wanderers and stragglers...they were all hers. Wrynn would pay for his little stunt. She was still a general, his words be damned. She swooped in from the side of the landing, cutting it close as Haelifur nearly skimmed his scaly underbelly upon the cracked stone floor.

Her halberd swept out beside her, managing to catch a troop here and there..across the throat or gouging into an exposed side. Blood splattered across the stone balcony in long, crimson strokes. This looked better already! Haelolin circled around and came in for another sweep, but most of the forces were hiding..or dead..she peered over the side of her drake, seeing a few fallen bodies far below on the ground of Zul'Drak. "They're going to miss all the fun.." She shook her head as she mocked their desperate disposition.

She circled again and landed this time. It was time to finish the job. She had worked hard to put together this barracks, even though her plans were deceptive in nature. It was her right to tear every bit of it down to the ground. She took her time, walking the dilapidated halls of Zeramas. No need to rush. By the time Wrynn heard...IF he heard, it would be far too late. He would pay for taking her job away. Then again..she wasn't under his rule any longer. She still had a job, as far as she was concerned...and it just got a lot more rewarding.

She stopped a fleeing troop in their tracks with an icy tomb that encased them almost instantly. She watched as his flesh turned cold and frost gathered from the ground, thickening into a solid sheet of ice that locked the poor male in a permanent tomb. "The pain turns to numbness after a while.." She said as she casually strolled by. Haelifur poked his head through the balcony archway, too large to fit into the small hub of Zeramas. The drake snapped up the occasional armored guard, devouring them as an evening meal.

She surveyed her damage as she walked the circular structure. Most were dead or wounded. Some had fallen to the lingering ghouls below. Some had fled upon their gryphons. Those that begged for mercy got none. Those that asked why, were answered only with a killing strike. Those that ran, had only one place to flee, onto the balcony, where Haelifur made quick work of them. In less than an hour, what was left of the troops lay strewn upon her old barracks.

"I think I'll stay home for a while.." She grinned as she sat down upon a battered crate in the supply section of the barracks. Haelolin kicked her feet up onto the broad side of a discarded, bloodied shield. Half of the steel was blackened by Haelifur's scorching fire, and there was a large, melted streak through the middle from his acidic saliva. It looked like her work. It made her smile. It made her remember...

With her point delivered, it was time to put other plans in motion. Like cogs in a massive machine that had been dormant for too long, tactics and ideas clicked and came together. It was surprising to think how easy resources were to find, when one knew where to look. She'd been a busy woman, re-establishing bonds with old contacts, gathering some new, and in the process of trying to..sway others to join her.

Haelolin gazed down at the dead lands beneath Acherus. Beside her, a hobbling ghoul toiled with a shabby supply crate. It was the first of many. The dead, salvaged from her little uprising in the north, had been crated and brought to this location under the guise of supplies. Nobody would ask. The smell of the deceased was typical in the necropolis. She would hide them here until she had a more secure location in which to begin reanimating 'her' troops. She would need more bodies. Lots more.

She hefted Pestilence upon her shoulder, resting it upon a saronite-plated pauldron. The great war axe was her new companion for now. She was taking great pleasure in making use of her weapons again. Gone were the regulations and rules of being a mere force of the city of Stormwind. A patsy for the higher-ups. Her agenda was hers to manipulate and construct as she pleased.

It was invigorating to feel something again. Power and pride through dominance. It was the core of her existence. There was no denying that even though she remembered nothing from her living life, she was never more sure that she had been a fighter, a warrior to some degree. Some things perished and faded with time and the passing of the body. But the soul hung on to feelings like this. Imprinting forever, the true attributes of a fighter's existence.

Her thoughts shifted back to the tavern and the 'drink' she'd shared with Slithengar, another death knight she'd recently become acquainted with during her search for more force to her army on the horizon. There was something just beneath his exterior. She could sense it, though she had her doubts of whether or not she was stoking the proper fire or not. It never hurt to try. If a powerful enough seed of hate was planted, it might very well germinate into a destructive incentive. He could feel and taste to some degree, and he could remember everything.

Envy burned in her heart. The feelings within her soul and conscious were the only thing that had remained throughout her death. Perhaps as an ironic reminder. A painful link to her past that taunted her with the possibility that one day, she might have memory to associate with these feelings. The mead had turned to ash upon hitting her dry, cracked tongue. She couldn't even feel the chill that Slithengar claimed accompanied the drink. It only sent her spiraling into frustration and anger. But it mattered little..

The issue of senses was of little consequence in her overall plan to slowly destroy the peace that the kingdom had worked for. Sure, it was a feeble attempt to retaliate. Like a child seeking attention, his actions only fueled her to rebel. But she lived to do so. To get under his skin and unearth tiny inconveniences wherever possible. She was a killer. This was her job....and she was damned good at it.

Haelolin turned away from the necropolis balcony as a force of wind brought the debris of decay, rot and festering mold from the Plaguelands onto the landing. She would bide her time a different way now. She was making plans and forming alliances with shadows that were just now coming out of the woodwork. Troops from an old order, faithful to her original plan. New, curious investors with an eye for the wicked. It would be an interesting melting pot that would snowball into a pleasant, destructive little force bent on harassing those she set her sights on...and it would be all hers.

"You want so much to be like them...it's disgusting."

The dark, acidic voice of accusation came from an old resource, and the closest thing to a 'friend' Haelolin allowed herself to keep. The robe-clad male lifted an effeminate hand and placed it upon her pauldron. Were it any other touch, she might have reason to lift her axe. But this was the vile, deceptive touch of coldness that always accompanied the male witch.

"You're wrong this time Mordestus. I only wish to remember and possibly feel once more. This pleasure is mine and mine alone." She stated pointedly. But who was she convincing..?

Haelolin shifted her arms behind her back, rocking back upon her saronite-plated heels as she stared out from the small, crumbling structure in Plaguewood. At her feet, a fallen cultist lay, siphoned of blood and the delicate thread of life. Mordestus tossed the crimson stone up and down in his grasp. It flickered and dripped with the cultist's lifefluid. It was the first of many.

"Allow me to reiterate why you fill your vessel with loathing."

"Don't." Haelolin sneered, shrugging his poisonous touch from her pauldron.

"But 'why'..?" He whispered softly as he stepped closer with his typical grin that seemed to be conjured up from the darkness of the abyss itself.

"I enjoy so much to see you remember, over and over again, why you hate yourself. You take all the fun out of being...well, what you are. Loosen up." He waved a thin hand in an idle gesture and shrugged with a soft laugh as he walked away. His ebony robes and cloak billowed around him, seemingly composed of the shadows themselves as strands and banners seemed to grasp and release the light around his tall, lithe form.

"What I aim to be is of little consequence to you..." She stopped her spiel as she twisted a bit at the hips to see him better.

But he was gone..

From far off to her left, sudden shadowy pulses erupted against the plague-filled sky. He'd picked their next target for her. Quel'Lithien Lodge was presently enveloped in a black, shadowy sphere. The warlock was showing off. He had a bloodlust that rivaled her own. He thrived for this kind of work, without asking much in return. Like her, he lived to shed blood, reaping the sadistic reward of his own power.

Haelolin glanced over in the direction of the dilapidated elven lodge. Despite his own agenda, his actions were correct. There was plenty blood there to harvest. The bodies could be re-risen as well and constructed into a larger assault force. She'd lost quite a few of the first wave on her 'trial run' at Northpass Tower. A few sinewy strands of hair feathered across her face, but did little to hide the dark grin upon her lips.

She'd killed a paladin at that tower. She'd cleaved her axe blade extra deep, in memory of the recent harassment in Stormwind city. She'd taken a long while to kill the female. Watching the light slowly abandon her, despite her pleas. Watching her spells and prayers to the light go unanswered as a chilling silence bound her tongue each time she tried to speak the vile, healing words. Haelolin got off on the power that death had over a weakened paladin. She could practically feel their despair. It roused what was left of her soul, and summoned it to battle with a vengeance.

It was worth it..for one, simple life. She fed off her revenge and grinned wider as she summoned Haelifur from the plague-obstructed sky. She threw a leg over the saddle with a dull creak of leather and plate as she regained her balance quickly and the amber stone around her pale, plate-covered neck flickered with her command to make haste towards the lodge. There was little chance that she would allow Mordestus to have all of the fun.

Weisen did not deter from his goal or his target. With a glare of accusation, the paladin continued repeating the blessings and prayers like a mantra. His voice echoed almost menacingly throughout the large side chamber in the citadel. Two priestesses flanked him, commanded to aid in the revival and replenishment of the death knight before them. Haelolin was restrained, though they were unsure for how long with the fight that was brewing with each vile word she spat, like a tempest building up power on the horizon. But she'd asked for this. Plans had been researched and scrutinized and finally tested here and now.

Her body writhed as if demons themselves had infested her and it was difficult to determine if she was enraged or in anguish at the current situation. Perhaps both? Tension filled every limb and pain tore through her nerves as her body began to live once more. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat now, though her ebony linen under armor hid most of it. Like a hound fighting the restraint of a leash wielded by a weary master, Haelolin fought and spat every step of the way. Her scourged soul did not want to turn. The wicked death within had been at home for far too long and to force it out was to throw it into a state of weakened mortality.

After what seemed like endless hours of prayer, dispelling and blessing, her body collapsed against the altar suddenly. Was she exhausted, or had it only just begun? This was the only moment Weisen gave pause. The paladin stepped boldly forward, prepared to defend himself if this was some sort of ruse. But the death knight remained where she was. Changes had taken place now. The scent of decaying flesh and rot was removed. Sweat was apparent..as were her first, living breaths. Haelolin fought to sit up, dragging in air as if she had been deprived of it for ages. In a way, she had. She'd never drawn breath before, yet her body knew now what to do. She'd never experienced the fulfillment of a single moment of life, encompassed simply by inhaling the precious air that was taken for granted by most.

Her pale blue eyes lidded for a moment, threatening to roll in their sockets and deliver the newly resurrected knight into the unconscious realm. Weissen snapped his fingers sharply in a feeble attempt to rip her attention away from the shock of the living world. She was faintly aware of the sudden sound the paladin produced. It echoed deep within the recesses of her mind, then it registered a bit louder as her hazed world began to reform before her. She was seeing it from new eyes, a new body and in a new light. She blinked up at the cathedral ceiling, her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide with shock and awe. Weisen could tell that her mind was still registering everything around her. Like a child seeing something for the first time. He could see the first hint of uncertainty within her gaze as she stared idly up in a coma-like state.

The priestesses that had been focusing their concentration on the cleansing part of the resurrection, suddenly dismissed the bonds that held the newly-risen knight. Shadowy chains unwrapped and twisted in the air before dissipating back into the abyss they'd been summoned from. The rebellion in her stomach was sudden and violent as Haelolin twisted onto her side and spat a bit of refuse upon the citadel floor with a sickened cough. It left a horrible taste lingering in her mouth. Haelolin closed her eyes for a moment, her ragged breaths subsiding as her body learned and grew accustomed to the task of breathing. Such a horrible taste...Haelolin smirked. No matter if it was the finest wine or the most vile conjuration of bile, she could taste. The thought left her silent for the time being as she recovered from hurling what was left of her death out of her stomach and onto the stone floor of the citadel.

She could feel the chilled surface of the altar beneath her fingers which were wrapped in a white-knuckle grip around the edge, as if clinging to life itself. She loosened her death grip and flexed her fingers like a feline expecting to sink its claws into something. Opening her eyes to stare at her fingers, she could see now that they displayed the undeniable color of life. "General Haelolin..?" Weisen spoke from..somewhere. She barely noticed as she brought her hand closer to inspect the veins upon the top of her hand. They were protruding a bit with her dehydration, but they'd prepared for that too.

A priestess yanked Haelolin back to reality with a firm tug upon the knight's shoulder, forcing her to sit up straight as she shoved a chilly, pewter mug filled with cloudy water into her grasp. "You're going to need a lot of this, so start drinking." It was the voice of Vexatanon. A priestess loyal to the general and the plans that had fallen apart in the north. Haelolin lifted the mug, her grip shaking slightly with anticipation. Even before the water hit her lips, she could feel it. The mug was cold.. She grinned and rushed in to drink, unable to take curiosity any longer. The water blessed her parched throat with a reviving coating of liquid ecstasy. What had she been missing?! She finished the water off, nearly choking herself as she did so.

Vex yanked the life-giving vessel out of Haelolin's grasp with a roll of her eyes. "She's going to need a nanny if she aims to stay alive. I have a feeling remedial tasks might very well be her undoing" The priestess stated as she refilled the mug from a nearby pitcher of water resting upon a knee-high stone pedestal. Hael would normally have taken such an opportunity to deck the priestess, or at least spit back some coldhearted remark. But this outranked anything on her agenda. She downed two more mugs of water before finally coming up for air.

Her attention turned to the three gathered around the altar. She slid her legs around to the side, her feet touching the stone floor. She could feel the chill beneath them as she stood and walked. The firm security of the ground and the very faint wind that was conjured up with her swift strides only intrigued her further.

"It worked." She said, having paced nearly all the way to the arched entryway of the side room tucked away within the citadel catacombs. She turned and splayed her arms a bit, suddenly displaying a wicked grin. "It worked." She repeated, enjoying the sound of the statement.

Weisen nodded and watched, folding muscular arms across a broad, plate-covered chest. He had never seen a death knight brought back from the depths of the scourge before, much less participated in the revival of one. It made him proud to hold such powers. Maybe others would want this. Haelolin hardly seemed threatening now. Gone were the rantings and hate-driven commands of her former self. She was now like a child, exploring the outside world for the first time. But he was sure it would end there. There was no changing an evil soul. Like a fledgling growing up, the interest would wear down, and old plans would be in motion once more. For now though, he silently reaped the new 'innocence' of the usually wicked general.

Hael peered up through the foggy shroud that was the comforting cloak of Icecrown. She gritted her teeth as she gave her axe a good yank, freeing it from the massive cleave within the sternum that had brought the Vrykul female down with a sputtering cough of blood that now stained the pure snow in long, red streaks. She'd gotten too close to their village and gathered the attention of two hulking females that stood watch over a small ridge. Though the battle had gone in her favor, there was no denying that Miragule was right..she'd lost a lot of her power. The curse of the scourge no longer worked with her to defeat and conquer.

The bite of the frosty winds sunk in to the bone and nearly froze her armor against her skin. At least it felt that way. These warriors had furs though. They were hearty with the land they thrived on and the brutal living conditions they existed in. They were forged from the north. They had plenty to offer. All she had to do, was take her fill..a bit more carefully now that she had mortal blood to bleed.

She heaved Pestilence into the air and brought the massive axe down with a brutal swipe, freeing the fur cloak from the downed Vrykul female. She'd only been here a few days, but already nature was eating away at her with bouts of frostbite and sometimes fever. She was not accustomed to feeling anything. The pang of hunger and the parched skin at the back of her throat, were a rude awakening into this new, living world. But she refused to believe that she could not best her foes in life just as well as she did in undeath. "Ridiculous." She muttered, vocalizing her thoughts as she trudged into the shabby hut the Vrykul warriors had used as shelter from the cold nights.

The inside was almost as bare as the outside. A pile of furs as a makeshift bed. A flickering fire, on its last leg and in desperate need of stoking. A stash of weapons that were clearly out of commission now. An abandoned oil lantern that was missing wick. A few bloodstained shackles. She could fix the fire at least. But she'd have to keep an eye out during the night. It was highly likely that other patrols roamed near the village outskirts. She would only sleep for a few hours.

Sleep. The lingering thought of the word sent her mind tumbling backwards into a haze of memory. The dreams had started not long after her resurrection from undeath. An elven village on fire. A shadow at the foot of her bed. A presence above her as she lay upon the forest floor, staring up at the canopy that loomed over her body like a monster prepared to suffocate her. Then the shadow again...and then blackness as she awakened.

Over and over again. It was becoming a haunt of sorts. Haelolin grabbed a fistful of furs and hauled them over her shoulder as she made her way across the small hut, turning to slunk against the back wall. She sat and d%@#@d the bundle of furs over her lap. She would sit here until sleep found her..or perhaps her enemy would find her first. With her back to the wall though, they had only one direction to approach her. She would be ready.

She leaned her head back against the thick pine wood and scanty thatch and mud that made up the hut wall. Letting her eyes lid, she exhaled a frost-lined breath, gripping Pestilence in one hand, and holding the furs upon her with the other. She would be ready...

Fire...she could clearly smell fire. The untamable beast had torn through her elven quarters and consumed everything in its path. There was someone still in there. A being that she could not get to. She was a sentinel and she could not hope to do her job with the threat of the roaring flames. Behind her, the child mocked her. Short, elven ears protruded from the sides of a small, elegant face. Long white hair tied up into two, knotted buns, and large, almond-shaped inquisitive eyes.

"Where is she?"

The child insisted on repeating the question.

"Find her Haelolin. Why can't you find her? Are you going to bring her back to me?"

The small voice continued with the barrage of questions behind her, even as she dug fruitlessly through the ash-covered rubble near the doorway. The structure had collapsed, and suddenly, it seemed like centuries had passed by. The fire was gone. The building dilapidated and overgrown with the thick, merciless vines of the surrounding forest. But which forest? Each time she turned to look, she only saw the elven child. What did it want? She could feel rage building in her veins. She wanted to strike the child and quell her anger. She wanted to silence the reminder of her failure for eternity.

Her arm swung back with the motion of her body as she turned to strike the child, but there was nothing to greet her but blackness. Just another dream....it was changing now. Pieces were falling into place within her subconscious. Her labored breathing comforted her in the darkness of the room she was renting. The smell of fire and cinders no longer burned her nose. Instead, the sweet smell of a cedar bed and freshly washed linen sheets. Just one of the comforts of the Tavern in Valiance keep. Regretfully, she shuffled the sheets away from her nude form, standing and placing her bare feet upon the floor, still detesting the shocking chill that bit into her flesh. It caused her to wake a bit more now.

She would need to be alert today. Though she'd been fighting in her dreams all night, the real fighting had only just started. Her mind wandered back to Paden and Slithengar. They'd offered to incorporate her in some missions, were any ever to arise. It would be a nice side job to fill the silent spells between battles. For now, she would keep busy and hope to hear word from either. She was growing even more restless.

Haelifur snapped viciously at the proto drake he pursued. Haelolin leaned forward in the saddle of the drake, ready to deliver a killing blow with her halberd from overhead, once Haelifur flew into place above the flying menace. They made a good team when they hunted. Haelifur was a smaller drake, just the right size for her. The black beast was able to dodge a lot of the tail action from the larger drakes, simply by rolling with the wind.

They were closing in now. The biting chill of the northern wind blew by her ears in howling gusts as Haelifur picked up speed. They had the proto drake on the run. Sure she could be doing other things. But She had to eat, right? Kord had mentioned being able to create jerky from any animal. She wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to try jerky from the very beast she loved to hunt for sport. She had plenty of time to check in on her plagueland barracks. Plans had been slow with having to reform everything, including another newly-risen army. With Miragule's help as a scourged knight, of course. There wasn't much she could do but wait. Why not wait in style.

New options were open now that she was a living, breathing being. Somehow, plans were slowly slipping through the cracks. Though now, it did not anger her as it once did in the past. There were so many distractions for the mortal mind. Feelings, sensations and experiences she'd been denied as a scourged knight. Why limit herself? Perhaps she'd lost her path? Or maybe it was time for a different one? What had she to lose? The circle she was traveling was slowly unwinding into a road with many forks, twists and turns.

Even new alliances.

The proto drake came flapping and crashing down into the snow, taking a roaming vry'kul by surprise as the massive male warrior dove to the side with a grunt. An unexpected intrusion to his quiet evening traipsing the northern landscape of snow and ice. Hael squirmed beneath the beast that she'd been perched upon in the sky. It was equally as determined to regain its footing, but she'd sent its nervous system into chaos when she drove her axe blade deep into the back of its skull. She had found a weak spot between the thick row of plated scales that lined its neck.

It was lingering on its last moments upon the earth as it roared in protest and writhed about. Hael removed herself quickly from the situation, rolling away when it lifted one of its massive crimson wings to beat. With a shuddered exhale and an eerie, mournful bellow, it shook and twitched before finally coming to rest where it had fallen. It moved no more. Hael shook a few long strands of hair over her shoulder, glancing up as she jolted her axe out of the resting spot it had found within the drake's skull.

The vry'kul male looked angry with her intrusion upon his territory. He clearly sized her up. Looking down from a towering height of at least 7 feet. Compared to her height of 5'1, he was obviously in the alpha position. He roared in anger as he balled his fists and took a step closer. Intimidation. She would have none of that. The look of shock was worth it, as she straightened and roared back with a rage rivaling his natural, barbaric bloodlust. He was expecting a coward? Hah! She raised each axe, using the help of mental energy to lift and wield them as easily as she did. She was built like a fighter, but she was still small. Often times, her weapons nearly outweighed her. Nothing a little mental focus couldn't fix. She roared again to establish that she had no intention of backing down from 'her' kill.

Haelifur, her drake, chimed in as he landed with a 'thud' in the soft, powdery snow behind her. This seemed to discourage the vry'kul as he took a step back and drew his axe. There was hesitation. She saw it. Sensed it. He showed it in his movements. He took another step back. Hael was the hunter once more. She lunged forward, planting a plated boot upon the proto drake's side with a vicious roar. But the vry'kul backed up again. No fight? What was wrong with him? These were barbarians. Why was he alone? Out here? With no pack? An outcast. It made her grin wickedly. Weak..sick. Nature's prey. Seeming to catch on to her look, the vry'kul lumbered away, knowing he was outnumbered by one black drake and one, very small, defiant elf.

Hael straightened from her defensive posture and grinned over her shoulder at Haelifur. Others might be along soon to reap the reward of scavenging her kill. She needed to hack off what she could carry on her drake and take it back to Kord. She was eager to try proto jerky.