Posting this here to bring a bit of life to the place, also for more views. Yeah, it's fanfiction, yeah it's WoW fanfiction, but I like it and want feedback dammit. Also the first thing I've really written in years. Say whatever you want, I want to hear it, so any comments or critiques, please put them forward. There will be more of this, too, and this will revolve around Ryue and my rp characters in the game, so... seems a fitting place to post it.
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In the beginning she was nothing; nameless, with no memories of her past. The first thing she ever felt was a ragged breath tearing at her lungs. Her hand gripped at her chest as her eyes shot open, wide in pain. It took a few seconds for the pain to subside and her surroundings to take form.
She was on her knees in the middle of a cold, blue arena. Across from her, a woman stood with blade at the ready, her armour adorned with skulls and spikes, lips pulled back in a cruel smile, long ears pointing up and back from her head.
A cold voice sounded in the arena – a man in blue standing in the seats above the walls. “You can feel it, can’t you Laelore? The endless hunger taking hold of you, bending you to its will. It will not release you until you sate it – and even then only temporarily.”
Even down on the arena floor, she could see the man’s smile rise as he spoke. “I give to you the chance to free yourself of the hunger. The woman on her knees before you has been deemed unworthy of her unlife. End her life. Savour your first kill as a Death Knight!”
It was clear from that moment that this was little more than a show. As the woman before her – this ‘Laelore’ – stepped forwards, bringing her sword back for a felling blow, she knew her fate was to die here.
She clenched her fists, and noticed for the first time that she was wearing armour. The same armour her would-be killer was wearing. And in her hands was a sword, just as cruel-looking as the one intended to end her life. She bared her fangs and took to her feet, taking the first swing for herself – if Laelore was to kill her, she would not go out without a fight!
Her ferocity must have startled Laelore, as her opponent seemed to hesitate for a step. She took her chance and swung for Laelore’s neck, but the Death Knight’s sword caught the strike just in time, the clang of metal ringing out through the arena. Face-to-face at last, she glared into Laelore’s eyes, her teeth pronounced as if ready to tear her neck wide open. Laelore’s own expression wasn’t much different as the two locked their swords, trying to overpower each other.
It was Laelore who attempted to break the lock, spinning out to her right to throw their swords away and give her another chance to strike. She countered with a spin of her own, moving with the momentum given to her, and landing a high kick to Laelore’s chest. The Death Knight stumbled backwards, and she sent a blast of icy energy to knock Laelore off her feet.
She pushed her advantage, swinging her blade as it glowed with unholy energy, bringing it down to end the battle – but Laelore rolled to the side and answered with a kick of her own. Back on her feet, the Death Knight swung again, and she barely had time to deflect the powerful blow.
As they danced, the crowd watching steadily grew. A fight like this had never been seen for an initiate’s first kill. Every push Laelore made was answered with an even stronger reply from the Unworthy, and every time it seemed Laelore’s fate had been sealed she managed to push back just enough for another few seconds of life. Sweat glistened on their foreheads, neither one giving in to the other.
It seemed their savagery would not wane as the battle entered its third minute. Both panted heavily, but Laelore looked the worst for wear – her body was beginning to feel the effects of a diseased strike the Unworthy had landed earlier. The Death Knight tried to blink away her fatigue, but it would not shift; she could barely bring her blade up to parry one strike from the unworthy, and then took a pommel to the face shortly after. Her grip on her sword gave out and it was lost somewhere in the arena as the Unworthy pushed Laelore back hard against the wall behind her, bringing her sword up.
A second passed, the Unworthy glaring into Laelore’s eyes, letting her register what was about to happen. Laelore opened her mouth, about to beg for mercy, but the Unworthy gave her no pause, slamming her blade straight through her throat, finishing it.
Back to herself, the Unworthy took a step back, bringing her foot up to Laelore’s chest and using it to pull her sword from the dead woman’s body. Blood spurted from the wound, coating both women as Laelore’s limp body dropped to the ground, her pulsing blue eyes fading slowly as the Unworthy turned her back, stepping out to the centre of the arena.
Her eyes locked on those of the man in blue. She expected disappointment, or a violent response from him. The arena was dead silent as those processed exactly what they had seen – but the man in blue simply smiled down at the victor. The silence was broken finally as he raised his hands and began clapping slowly.
“Well done. You were raised to die, and yet you stand the killer.” His clapping got faster and louder as those gathered began to clap too, some cheering. He held his hands up after a few seconds, silencing everyone. “Now tell me, what is your name, Death Knight.”
What was her name? The Unworthy looked from the man in blue, and back to the broken body of Laelore. She had no name, no past, no memories to draw from. In truth, she didn’t even know where she pulled her skill and rage from in her battle. Bringing her eyes back to the man in blue, she grinned wickedly as she decided on a name.
“Laelore,” she spoke slowly, coldly, feeling the name on her tongue, tasting her soft, lyrical voice for the first time.
The man in blue seemed to broaden his smile at the name. “First you take her life, then you take her name. You will make a powerful weapon of the Scourge indeed, I am certain of it. So be it – from this day forth you will be known as Laelore Deathborne, she who was born in death!”
Deathborne. Laelore Deathborne. She liked it. She slammed her bloody sword into the ground by her feet, feeling her new name wash over her, empower her somehow. She was no longer the Unworthy; here today she cast off that shame and became a Death Knight.
Subject: Deathborne 
Tue Nov 02, 2010 1:27 am