The streets of Boralus were unusually empty, lit only by the dim glow of the gas streetlamps as a winter storm raged outside, slamming the maritime city relentless with sleet and snow. Aside from a few hapless guards obligated to make their rounds, the only creature stirring in the frozen tempest was a willowy elven death knight.
Restlessly, Kirendar stalked the streets, impervious to the storm’s wrath save for the thin coat of rime accumulating on his runeblades and in his hair. He had been through worse, of course, given his service record in Northrend, and it would certainly take more than mere snow and ice to phase a skilled cryomancer himself. Yet there was something troubling on his mind.
The death knight startled, drawing one of his runeblades and whipping around wild-eyed as a nasty gust of wind rattled the shutters of a nearby building. He frowned, straining his eyes as he peered into the shadows. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he could have sworn there was something there a moment ago. Warily, he flicked his ears back and lowered his sword slightly, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. A careful scan of the area yielded nothing of interest, thus he elected to continue onward.
He quickened his pace; the sense of something stalking him growing stronger. There seemed to be echoes of voices on the wind, though at this late hour there was no one around for them to belong to. It’s your imagination…all in your head… Kirendar thought to himself, trying to quell the nagging disquiet growing in the pit of his stomach. The ghostly sound of hoofbeats approaching from behind did little to aid in his endeavor.
Kirendar wheeled around to face the visitor, only to be greeted with the sight of an empty street. A glance to the left and right revealed nothing but rows of buildings and narrow dark alleys–nowhere for a horse and rider to hide. He took a couple steps back, drawing his second blade and frantically searching for some sign of the sound’s source.
"Show yourself!" he demanded, brandishing his blades and coiling like a viper ready to strike. It was almost certainly a trick, meant to fool him into letting his guard down for an assassin’s blade. After all, he was a vicious Alliance fighter, with many Horde soldiers falling prey to his blades…there was certainly a nice reward to be had for the assassin skilled enough to hunt him down. "I know you’re there!"
“Yoooooou…” The hoofbeats ceased, with a ghostly voice sounding from behind.
That voice… Kirendar spun around, blades at the ready. A dark figure mounted on a massive deathcharger greeted him, though the shadows and wisps of cold fog made it difficult to discern many details. It did, however, appear to be an Acherus knight. “Impossible…”
“Yoooou did thissss to me!” the knight hissed, drawing closer with his runeblade leveled at Kirendar. “Murderer!”
The deathcharger reared with a scream, surging forward towards the quel’dorei. Kirendar narrowly dodged a strike meant to sever his head, having just enough time to duck into a nearby alley and sprint away. Only after he had covered a good bit of distance through the narrow, winding streets did he pause, glancing back to check for signs of his assailant. He was met with no sign of the other death knight, with only the howling of the wind and creak of architecture to break the silence.
While the helmet had prevented him from seeing the rider’s face, the voice was one he knew all too well, though the thought that its owner was here and wearing the Blade’s colors was preposterous.
“Light no…”
Kirendar’s eyes went wide as the haunting voice sounded again from behind, though different than the previous. Much more…human…this time…frightened, perhaps. His ears pinned back as he wheeled around, lightning crackling overhead to illuminate the courtyard for a brief moment. No…that’s impossible!
Another figure stood before him now–a burly Argent paladin, severely wounded and cowering before Kirendar in terror. Blood poured from the cruel claw marks slashed across the left side of the man’s face, while his dark blonde hair was dirty and tangled from battle. His weapons were nowhere to be seen as he continued to beg for mercy. “Please NO! Not like this!”
Kirendar roared, his vision blurring as he darted forward and drove his blades through the paladin’s torso. His head spun, fragments of the past pressing relentlessly on his mind. The storm unleashed another wave of its fury on the city, stinging his face with flecks of snow and ice. Gradually, the world began to come back into focus; the sight of his runeblades buried to the hilt in a now-ruined snowman.
He blinked…once, twice…taking a few moments to compose himself as he withdrew his blades, sheathing them on his back once more. It was an apparition…of course it was an apparition, and nothing more. Kirendar chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound as he swept his gaze quickly about the area. Clearly, he was getting too paranoid, given that the knight in the apparitions had already had many chances for revenge, yet failed to act on it. No…no that one was more interested in serving the Alliance with the Seventh Legion, not carrying grudges.
Are you so sure he has forgotten…? Kirendar shook his head; the uneasy feeling returning as he stepped back into the streets. He stands to gain much from claiming his vengeance…he could take everything. The quel’dorei grit his teeth, growling under his breath and clenching a fist at the thought of losing everything he had worked so hard to build. “I’d like to see him try!”
Author's Note
I had two ideas for this prompt–one happy, and one not so much. I already covered the happier side of the coin in my previous post on Morician; however, I couldn’t pass up the chance to take a shot at something more haunting and explore some of the more obscure pieces of characters’ pasts.
![:smiley:](https://d38bqls1q93fod.cloudfront.net/en/wow/images/emoji/twitter/smiley.png?v=6" ":smiley:")