Detective Norman McGarnegal sat at his desk in the office of the Stormwind Municipal Constabulary and frowned at the documents splayed out in front of him.
The precinct was humming with the usual hustle and bustle of activity that marked a typical day at the office. Cops chatting amongst themselves, criminals
shouting and struggling as they were brought in off the streets for booking, the clerks milling about, filing a seemingly endless stream of parchment and folders into cabinets, detailing crimes, evidence, and witness testimony.
McGarnegal sat quietly at his desk in amidst the sea of activity around him and did his best to focus on his work and block out the noise.
It was a particularly disturbing case, one that had first been assigned to Detective McGarnegal and his partner, Detective Connor six weeks prior. A young woman had been found brutally murdered near the harbor in the early hours before dawn one day, approximately 3am. Some fisherman had found the body on their way to the docks and alerted the police.
Her name was Nancy Halligan, age 23. She was born and raised in one of the poorer neighborhoods of Stormwind. No husband, or formal trade, she worked odd jobs as a barmaid at some of the local taverns, but her heavy drinking tended to get in the way of any steady work. It was rumored she had been working as a prostitute.
She was last seen leaving a nearby Tavern with an unknown male subject approximately 4 hours before her body was discovered.
Most of the patrons of that night were heavily intoxicated by that point, and there were either very little, or conflicting details about the man reported by witnesses.
One witness described the man as a tall, well dressed human male, approximately 28 years old, with dark hair, a thin mustache and a scar on his left cheek. Another swore the man was of average height, a nose that appeared to have been broken at some point in his past, and a Kul Tirian accent.
The most reliable report came from the tavernkeeper who described him as a polite, soft spoken man, who tipped well and was clean shaven. All of them seemed to agree that the man had met Nancy at the bar, and after chatting at a table in the back of the tavern over a few pints of ale, they left together.
None of this was particularly unusual for the grizzled detective. McGarnegal had been working homicide in Stormwind for 15 years, he’d seen too many young women who lived a similar lifestyle meet a similar fate in dark alleys in bad neighborhoods at the hands of a stranger.
What disturbed Detective McGarnegal about this killing was the sheersavegry and brutality of the attack.
The killer was brutal, yet methodical. Nancy was found with several superficial cuts to the hands suggesting she had tried to defend herself. There were a total of 28 stab wounds to the chest, face and abdomen. Her throat had been cut, and her abdomen slashed open. Her intestines had been pulled out, and
a kidney, and part of her liver were missing. A deep wound to her sternum suggested the killer had attempted to cut her heart out, but did not finish the job, possibly having been interrupted by the sound of someone nearby.
The detectives had viewed the body, visited the crime scene looking for clues, interviewed the witnesses, all of the standard work that a homicide detective does, but the killer left virtually no evidence, and aside from the testimony of the witnesses at the tavern, nobody reported seeing or hearing anything unusual near the crime scene that night.
Then, there was another killing.
A week later, a similar victim, met a similar fate. Molly Shannon, age 21. She had grown up in the countryside but moved to the big city in search of work in the months before her death.
She had been living in a tenement house in a poor neighborhood working as a general laborer. She was found in the morning by a delivery boy lying in an alley near where she lived.
Her attacker had used a similar method as Nancy’s, but this time the wounds were deeper and the cuts more precise. He was growing bolder.
Again, the corpse was found mutilated, with several organs cut out, this time including her heart.
By the end of that week there was another victim, then another the next. All were killed with the same MO, all of the victims were a similar profile. Detective McGarnegal had no doubt. There was a serial killer loose on the streets of Stormwind, and it was up to the grizzled detective to bring him to justice.
McGarnegal’s first big break, had come on the 4th week of the killing spree. The press had caught wind of the case, as much as he had tried to keep it quiet for fear of public panic.
After several sensational reports had come out, the citizens of Stormwind were spooked, but vigilant. One night, a beat constable had been making his usual rounds, when he heard a woman scream. He went dashing through the foggy darkness towards the sound just in time to see a figure bounding over a fence into the swirling night, and a woman on the ground sobbing.
She had defensive wounds on her hands and forearms and a stab wound to her abdomen. Choosing to aid the woman, rather than pursue the attacker, the officer applied pressure on the wound and cried out for help. With the aid of some citizens, the officer was able to get her to a healer who was able to save the girl’s life.
The detective and his partner interviewed the woman as soon as the healer declared her stable enough to answer their questions.
According to the victim she had been working as a prostitute and was approached by a nervous looking young man with a soft spoken demeanor, and an upper class accent.
She described him as around 6 feet tall, slender, with neatly trimmed black hair, a pale complexion, and blue eyes. He was polite, shy even, as they agreed to a sum for her services.
As they began to walk down the secluded street, away from any potential witnesses, the man seemed to snap. He attacked without warning, as soon as they were alone, with a sharp, thin blade. His soft, pale face was now twisted with rage and his eyes seemed to burn red with hatred.
She was able to scream even though he was attempting to muffle her with his hand, and that was what saved her life.
McGarnegal now had a reliable description of his suspect, and was actively looking through case notes of any citizens of Stormwind with a prior criminal conviction fitting that description, and reviewing all of his case notes from the previous murders.
He sat at his desk and tried to find any connection, anyone who might be the elusive slender man who was terrorizing Stormwind city.
Suddenly he was snapped back to reality by the sound of a gruff voice calling his name. “McGarnegal!” it was his boss, Chief Kennedy. “We’ve got another one. One of our officers just came in saying there’s been another murder. It looks like the work of your man, he could still be nearby.”
McGarnegal jumped up from his desk, grabbing his weapon. His partner was right by his side as they rushed out the door of the precinct and into the crowded city streets.
The crime scene was nearby and soon they came to an area where a crowd was formed. A young woman was dead on the cobblestone street, but the killer had never been so brash as to attack in broad daylight before.
Witnesses said that the woman was seen trying to running from the direction of a nearby industrial district before collapsing in the street and succumbing to her wounds.
The two detectives ran towards the industrial area the witnesses had indicated, and came to a series of warehouses. The two men split up as they began to canvass the area in search of any clues or signs of a crime scene.
As detective McGarnegal came by the doorway of one of the buildings, he noticed a smeared handprint in what appeared to be blood on the frame of a door. Unsheathing his dagger, he pushed the door open and cautiously made his way inside.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark interior of the building from the bright sunlight outside. He was inside what appeared to be a storage area for supplies before they were shipped out to the warfront. Boxes and crates were stacked in neat rows, and the cavernous interior of the warehouse stretched out before him.
McGarnegal cautiously made his way inside, and noticed droplets of blood on the ground leading further into the rows of boxes. He began to follow the trail and came to what appeared to be the center of the building. There, he found a woman’s purse, the contents scattered on the ground.
This was the crime scene.
As he bent down to examine the evidence, he noticed a shadow on the ground
behind his own stretched out before him from the light of the open door.
McGarnegal wheeled around to face the unknown person, but as soon as he turned to face him, he felt the burning white hot pain of a dagger
pierce his chest.
The detective’s knees buckled, he struggled to retain his consciousness as his ears rang, and the world grew blurry and dark around him. He could vaguely make out the figure of a slender man in front of him but couldn’t
get a good look at him as his vision failed him and the man was silhouetted by the sunlight streaming in the open door behind him.
McGarnegal tried to cry out, but there was no air left in his lungs.
He could taste his own blood, and feel it pumping hot out of his chest. His very life spilling onto the floor. The man yanked his blade from the detective’s chest, and McGarnegal fell to the floor.
The last thing he remembered was trying desperately to get to his feet as the silhouette of the man walked towards the sunlight out the open door, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t cry out.
He couldn’t breathe…
There was light.
It was not the bright, holy light of a paladin, it was a blue, electric light.
There was a voice.
The voice was everywhere, it was saying to wake up, arise, the dark lady was offering a new life in undeath. All he had to do was rise.
McGarnegal rose to his feet. Slowly the memory of who he was, and what had happened began to return. He felt sick.
Mcgarnegal slowly saw the world come back into focus around him. He saw tombstones and dirt, and a blue, shimmering spirit with wings towering over him. “You have been granted a new life by the banshee queen, announced the spirit. Arise! Take your place among the forsaken!”
McGarnegal was confused, and as the spirit faded away, and his senses returned, he noticed two men staring at him. The men were pale, and as McGarnegal began to realize, they were corpses.
One of the corpses began to speak “You alright there, freshmeat? The rebirth can be… Traumatic to say the least. Give yourself a second to rest.”
McGarnegal began to realize what was happening. “You’re undead!”
he exclaimed “Yeah, so’re you!” The talking corpse replied.
McGarnegal remembered now. The man, the white hot pain, the taste of his own blood on his lips, the blackness…
He lifted his shirt and saw his pale, grey skin and the plunging wound in his chest. This was really happening.
“Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in right now, but you’re among friends. We’ll get you back to Orgrimmar and get you settled in. You’re gonna have a whole new life ahead of you! Just give us some time to see if there are any others here we can raise.”
The undead man began shuffling around the graveyard looking at dates on tombstones, seeing if there were any other recent burials to raise.
“Why me?” asked McGarnegal, still not quite believing this was really happening. “Because you were still fresh!” replied the undead man. “The dark lady sends us behind enemy lines to raise the human dead as they bury them.”
We saw you were still fresh, so we saved you. Would you prefer we left you in the ground to rot?"
McGarnegal couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and his head was still swimming, but slowly the realization began to dawn on him. He still had a chance to stop the killer, and he had a chance to get revenge.
Now Detective Norman McGarnegal would face the task of solving the greatest murder mystery of his career… His own.