Heresy

I was, for a time, calmed somehow by the night with Maxus; something that had never even had the words to ask a question, had managed to find its answer. And still I had nothing to explain what it was that had been created inside of me.

I could say something had hungered, been fed, and satiated.

But I could also say I had tasted something altogether new; that something had been sharpened and brought to life.

The question was....what to do with it.

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

Boredom drives a woman to strange ends; and as such I found myself in the humans' land once again, south of Stormwind, hidden in the trees near Goldshire listening to the conversations of the passersby. I have come to decide that perhaps Goldshire is where they go when they cannot work in Stormwind; due to financial restraints or perhaps the competitive nature of work in the cities, the natives of Goldshire seem somehow predisposessed to achieve much of anything.

I tilted my head and tuned my senses for a moment, a smirk curving across my lips as I realised what the scent and sounds were that lingered upon the air.

"Oh.. so that's how they pass the time in this little heap...."

At first, I tried not to laugh, lest I be discovered, but the laughter I felt compelled to release soon gave way to another emotion, and the laughter died as I realised the true nature of what I heard.

The woman had not consented. She screamed, a high-pitched squeal that was unmistakeably elven.

The man's voice, angrily retorting.

One slap, fiercely applied.

Sobbing.

And then the sound again, rhythmic and unrelenting.



How I would answer to A'dal for what I did next, I did not know.

I didn't think about it, really.

I crept undetected through the doorway of the inn, onto creaking old floorboards, shaped and softened by decades of wear. I dropped to my hands and knees and crept carefully behind a table, laden with fruit, and mead, and meat...but it was as if none of it existed; I heard only one thing.

A memory.

I peered out to the inn; only one man stood before the fire, his head slightly bent, gazing into the flames.

"How can you just ignore this? How can you let it happen above you and not stop it?"

My anger now began to take shape; my disgust at it all, for those given life who so blithely squander it.

Who am I to judge, one might ask?

I have no right.

And I tell you now, I did not care..not in that moment.

He took no notice of me as I stealthed quietly up the stairs. The sounds louder now; those sounds which are unmistakeably personal, but jarringly out of place against the tearful sobs and the faint tinge of blood that I could now detect among more intimate scents.

I waited, back pressed against the wall, shielded partially by a huge bookcase. I thought for a moment I might poison my blades; then hesistated. It had been a long time since I ate a human.

"Enjoy her well, human. It will be your last night to do so."

I crept closer to the bedchamber and slid inside carefully. I could see his back rising out of the sheets; crimson stains upon the pillows told me he had bloodied her face a good deal. The scent of them was overpowering; though what was actually happening disgusted me, the memory of Max had created some simultaneous and sickening feeling of arousal.

I shook my head, trying to focus and separate the two in my mind before I made my presence known.

In his driven, blind need to take this elf he never noticed me standing behind him, on the trunk at the foot of the bed.

I was not polite about it. I waited until he was close to finishing, until he was tensed and oblivious to the teary-eyed wretch that he was abusing.

And once he was close, he barely had time to turn his head when I spoke to him in perfect Orcish.

"The rule..is..ladies first, bastard."

I leapt out at him then, a simple direct motion, landing upon his naked back and thrusting back his head, I slit his throat even as he spent himself, uncontrolled, in a burst of what I assume was adrenaline.

The elf screamed; I saw then that her own face had been nearly as brutalised as my own when VIshas took my life.

I threw the human aside angrily. As I heard him choke, and gurgle horribly upon the floor, I sat, hunched on the bed over her, and leaned in, sniffing her face a moment before speaking. She seemed halfway unaware I was there, clutching sheets with thin white fingers, shaking and sobbing, her face scratched terribly across the cheek, one breast brutally slashed.

Bruises still lingered upon her flesh, old and new. I could not see the shades of purple, or gold...but I could see the variation in tone. I knew she'd suffered for some time. How one of her race could fall to such a state was utterly beyond me.

I wished my ability to speak was better; I did not know how to ask her what I really meant to say.

"Live..or die. Choose, will obey. What want?"

For a moment she did nothing. The only sound was the faint clinking of glassware below; the man had passed now..still warm, but unmoving. She turned to look at me.

"Die. Please."

And in life you find nothing but a desire to die....what wretched states we consign ourselves to.

I nodded and sat back on my knees, and uncorked the mind-numbing poisons. I applied it thickly to the blade and then to my glove and smiled at her.

"Feel...less.", I nodded, and held up the glove, indicating I would put some of the poison directly upon her.

She nodded, staring straight back at me.

Carefully I rubbed it into her flesh of her upper chest, and waited a moment and pointed at her.

"Elune.."

I turned the finger back to myself.

"A'dal."

The elf smiled faintly. I knew now the poison was taking effect; her features softened, the pain of the wounds and what she endured began to fade.

I raised the jagged carver high above me, and plunged it into her body, straight through her heart.

A gasp, a small shudder, and then she was still.

She was smiling.

I hopped off the bed and turned back to the human, kicking his boot with my toe.

"What a waste of life, that you come to be nothing more than this." I snarled, "I'm hungry now, I'm starving. I will NOT eat you, human."

I turned and crept back out of the inn, sickened by the smells and the sight of what I'd witnessed. I must have had their scent on me now, from all that had happened before my arrival as well as their blood, for when I crept down to the sitting room of the Inn, the human by the fire had tilted his head.

My rage returned and I stealthed up behind him and gripped his mouth with my glove firmly, pressing the carver into his spine.

"Next time..it might be you. No help her. Wrong." I hissed into his thickly-built ear, his beard stubble scratching my chin.

He nodded.

I licked his ear once.

"Salty man, take a bath. Unclean." I spat in disgust, and slipped out of the bar.

Anywhere but here..anywhere but this town...I would go now. But first, I went to the river, to wash this stench away.

And then perhaps, I would find something to remind me of the good in them again.

************************************************** *
For awhile, the river calmed me; even so close to Stormwind, I didn't feel in any particular danger. The local bands of Defias were little more than petty thugs, ekeing out some existence on the borders of the city. Local wildlife didn't seem concerned at my presence, and no other beings were to be seen anywhere.

Cleansed in the waters, cold as they were I still felt refreshed and for a moment, my armour still resting by the shore, I sat by the bank and let the sun hit undead flesh, and tried to remember a very long time ago, in Feralas, when Sihmm showed us the magnificent waterfalls there, near the coast. I held this idea of beauty in my head for some time; as if the waterfall's memory metaphorically washed away the ugliness of man that I had been reminded of so recently in Goldshire.

I must have been this way some few minutes, lost in an old image, the faint cries of birds and the rustle of leaves in Elwynn breezes catching my mind entirely. I smelled the fur of wolves, and the fresh, fishy smell of nearby murlocs. I don't know how long, but it was long enough for a distinctive scent to invade the reverie and alert my senses.

Cloves. And it was female's scent, but laden with spicy, musky tones.

There was only one that I knew in all my life and undeath that had such a distinct scent. I smiled slightly, and greeted her without turning around.

"Hello, Maaric."

'"Heresy. Ah'm sorry. Ah had no idea you were 'ere ..but ye know...you're a bit close to tha city?"

I waved a hand dismissively, and reached for my cloak, wrapping it around my chest for some privacy.

"Nothing to fear. I've done it dozens of times...few come out this far these days. Besides, I needed some time to clean up, gather my thoughts. Come..sit"..I patted the ground nearby. "Tell me how you are settling into Stormwind."

The river babbled softly, and as she began to speak, I rested my arms on my bent knees, enveloped in my cloak.

"It's not so big, ye know? Ah mean, is' spread ou' a fair bit...but there's lotsa quiet places...not hard to get awa' when ya need to do some thinkin'...jus' round dat bank an' auctioneers dat it gets sa busy ah can'na think straight fer all the business bein' conducted..."

I smiled slightly, nodding. Maaric's accent somehow made me feel at home...that strange combination of human woman's voice and wierd, orcish-trollish inflection that always coloured her true speech. It amazed me how she could speak in disguise so fluently; I wondered how she had developed the skill.

" 's good tho, in awa'...plenty o' work for me to do, in fact tha's why I'm out here, they sent me after tha' Defias..."

"How are you finding it?" I noted her worn tattered breeches..the simplest of daggers at her side. Her head wasn't even covered; her black shining ponytail bobbing as she spoke, fierce blue eyes blazing against her olive, tanned skin.

Orc's eyes , I always felt, staring at them. The same brilliant hues, that seemed to bore right into you.

She had almost nothing, this strange woman to whom I felt I owed so much.

And as I started donning my leathers, and re-equpping the aging but fine blades I'd come to depend on for so long...I remembered that..having almost nothing.



Flashback.

Sewers.

I crawled out and made my way to Tirisfal.....no weapons, no armour...stinking, confused, wretched pawn of the Forsaken. Failed to them, because I had been a success to myself..

How would Maaric fare in this world? Who was she?

She had taken to refusing payment lately. I didn't understand it; gold was the reason she came to the job.

And now..now I didn't know what made her stay.



"Weeell..." she held her hand out to me, dangling a small leather pouch from it, offering me a bit of her distinctive and pungent chew. I nodded "no" politely.

She shrugged and took a pinch for herself, coughing as she did so.

"No's so bad...jes'...not use' to it, ye know? Sometimes 's like...ah'm caught in a storm o' people...an' ah don' know where ta swim ta reach shore.....who ta trus'..not ta'...."

I slipped my hood back on, and sighed, looking at her. She might have been pretty in another time...in some ways, Maaric was pretty still. But..unsettling, with blue eyes that glittered intensely and stared right at you without fear, as if they'd seen and survived so much that nothing you could say, or do, would shock them. Her features were delicate otherwise, and she had a thick black, gleaming ponytail that reached practically to her hips. But there was no mistaking her for a princess. Her hands had seen work her whole life; her body was strong and muscular despite her illness. Her shoulders and arms were badly marred by scars and stab wounds, and one particularly bad one that diagonally crossed her left shoulder looked as if it had been crudely and horribly stitched by some uncaring hand. These were the testament to her secret past.

She almost looked like a doll who had been cast into a street, tossed beneath hooves and claws, and emerged scathed and beaten..with the shadow of her once-fine gown and features intact.

When she turned I could see, peeking out from her sparse jerkin, the edges of lash marks across her back and shoulders. She'd been whipped, more than once. But I did not ask Maaric why the were there, what story they told, and she never volunteered it. She accepted mine, and I accepted hers, and that was all that mattered, really.

"Trust", I smiled slightly. "Yes, that's a tough one, isn't it. I've met humans I could trust..undeads I couldn't. Trolls that had no business serving the Horde and elves that were a disgrace to Elune...makes it hard sometimes, knowing who..or what to kill, and what to spare."

"So how do ya decide...?"

I laughed softly. "Whim. Instinct. Whether I'm hungry or not. Maybe they remind me of someone...which can be a good thing, or a bad one." I was fully dressed now, and standing next to her, gazing out into the forest.

Sometimes I miss him. I should not. I do anyway. I wonder how he's coping now, this undead man that has to shake hands with the living one.

Maaric's voice broke off her thoughts.

"Ye goin' to tha' city? S'kinda busy now but ah think Seiken's about, ran intae him..oh near tha bank...he's trainin' as a paladin now."

"Paladin." my voice went flat with despair. My perception of paladins had always been judgemental bastards, but superb eaten raw and straight out of the plate.

"Aye, paladin, but ah don' think ye need ta worreh, he seems tha' same. He was headin' to tha' cathedral..ye might catch 'im if ye hurry."

"I can't take Fhang with me.." Heresy gestured to the undead mare, tethered near a large rocky overhang and well out of view save the occasional flick of her tail.

"Ah'll watch 'er?" Maaric offered, smiling slightly. "Ah' like 'orses, even dead ones...dunno why."

"Sure. Why not...but here.." Heresy frowned, reaching into her pack and handed Maaric some dynamite, a few bandages and some juicy grapes.

"Telaari?"

I nodded, grinning. "Straight from stealthpicking to you."

"Ah'll be..." Maaric beamed and popped one fat grape in her mouth immediately.

"Right. I'm off. Cathedral you say?"

The human nodded, chewing, her expression one of borderline ecstasy.

Over one grape. I thought, watching her carefully.

I winked and dissapeared into the woods, pointed straight to Stormwind.

Seiken. A paladin.

I gritted my teeth and hoped the day would get better somehow.
**********************************************
After leaving Maaric near the river with my mare and a few provisions, I made my way to Stormwind not bothering to stealth; the Defias here were weak enough as to let me pass unhindered and no guards were in sight.

It was only upon nearing the city's broad, tall walls that I shielded myself and began creeping into the city, distracting guards with small pebbles and trying to seem as non-descript as possble. Past the statues erected of past heroes, past the dozing elite guardsmen, and finally into the city proper.

It was not terribly busy; a few passersby, a mage idling near the armourcrafter's, a mounted dwarf in idle chat with a gnome near the auctioneer's.

As my eyes scanned the residents, I saw someone I recognised..another rogue, mounted on an elegant dark grey cat. His movements were relaxed; he sat slightly leaning back in the saddle, hands resting on the horn in front of him. He too, it seemed, watched everything around him with mild disinterest.

I knew I'd seen him before but I wasn't sure where. It took a passing wine merchant to bring the memory back.

He is the man from the bar, it is his bar...? I think yes..it is, or was. And he had not attacked me, he let me enjoy the ale in peace. A drink..that indeed would refresh, as would the company of a more intelligent..

I sniffed the air deeply, inhaling his scent. Ah, truly there is nothing like the smell of a rogue, warm and leathery, the bitter edge of blindpower and the lingering menace of poisonous extracts.

But how to make him understand? I could not very well walk up to him and simply say "Greetings, living man, I'm thirsty.".

Well..I could. It just would be the last thing I ever said.

So I did what I knew best.

The ledge behind him was uninhabited; and nicely shadowed. I crept over to it and climbed upon its surface, where barrels of wine partially hid my form from the street below. And leaning out carefully, I smacked him swiftly but accurately on the back of the neck, not to injure, but to incapacitate.

He wavered slightly in the saddle, I reached down behind him and placed a hand at his back to keep him upright while I hissed softly in his ear in the best common I could manage.

"No need afraid, remember you. Ale and wine man, bar in city. You gave, very nice. Thirsty? I would like more, please."

As the stun wore off, I felt his body stiffen beneath my hand; the muscles tense in response to an unseen and unfamiliar touch. His black hair was barely visible from the base of his hood; he wore armour similar to mine, thin and strong. I could feel the beat of his heart through it, even from the back - the distinct and unique pulse of life that flows through every being in some form or another.

"Ah don' know who ye are, but ye bes' be careful where ye step."

His accent confirmed it, he was the man from the bar. I didn't know his name but I smiled and laughed so softly that it was almost a whisper.

"You do know, human. Thirsty! You gave me drink...the undead woman, with the living disguise.."

I saw his head shake 'no' slightly. "Ain' mah bar no more...ye jes' haveta fin' another way."

I frowned slightly. An unexpected development thwarting my original plans for amusement. But at least he didn't give my position away. I patted his shoulder and sighed in resignation.

"Thanks anyway."

I crouched back behind the barrels and decided there was nothing else to do really, but head to a place that never once in life - or death - had I stepped inside of previously. Stormwind Cathedral was where Maaric said Seiken had gone.

Let it be said that neither in life nor death was I comfortable with churches, with their distinct views on the Light, what is good, or bad in the hearts of mankind. I was raised with nature as my world and god, and nothing would, or did, surpass this belief. Not even A'dal and the Naaru, for as blessed beings as they may well be, I still see them as an embodiment of that...thing, and not the thing itself.

Not to mention the fact that if even the tribal tauren like that grumpy, judgemental old warrior Elanos could see me as 'an abomination' - what would a Bishop say? It was one thing for Seiken to meet me in the wilds of Terrokar and agree to aid me all those months ago as a warrior.

But as a paladin? In the Cathedral itself, I would know once and for all if in the hearts of such men lie only judgement, or justice. There was a time men like Seiken were food. They still are. But I like to think I am past the point of mindless slaughter and gluttony now; as delicious as they truly are, it is now complicated by the knowledge of those humans I have since gained...humans of complexity and compassion, of understanding and humour.

One might ask me then how I felt about eating the guards in Darkshire that drizzly, damp night; how that is less of a crime somehow. But hunger is not a crime..it is a basic life need to be satisfied, and I was hungry, and he was alone. It was that, or the couple sleeping in the small cottage by the field...or the field rats.

I draw the line at field rats. Even an undead woman has standards.

So I made my way to the cathedral, in hopes of finding him, and yet still concerned as to what 'finding him' would mean.

With barely a sound I slipped over the edge of the bridge, sliding quietly into the waters of the canal and gliding in silence, treated black leathers a frictionless slick surface against the water.

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"I wrote the story myself. It's about a girl who lost her reputation and never missed it." - Mae West
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