Trial

Chapter 2

Keira sat in her cozy chair, warming her bones over the fire. Her hands idly knitted at a cloak, while her mind continued to race. Thoughts of getting caught filled her head; thoughts of what the Forsaken do to traitors. She had risen a year ago, or was it two? She probed her mind, trying to get a grasp on time itself. Days and months had little meaning for the Forsaken. Time was a foreign beast, exotic, and unwanted. Seasons passed for them, but the only thing she knew for certain, was that it’s always cold.

Legionnaire Vorlin entered her cottage without ceremony, shattering her thought process. He surveyed the Tarren Mill shack, his shifty eyes slipping across the room, before finally settling upon her. He was, for the most part, a good man. His loyalty to both the Forsaken, and the Horde were beyond question. She admired him.

“Seamstress Keira, have ye finished with my cloak girl?” he asked in his flat cold voice.

“Aye, Legionnaire. Your cloak is done, and your tabard is dyed.” She replied humbly.

He smiled, the horrific smile that only the undead can manage, and nodded. Slipping his hand into a pouch on his side, he produced a gold piece, and flipped it into her lap. Her eyes darted to the money, and she mustered a weak smile through her shock.

“Th…thank you Milord. That’s quite generous.” She managed to mutter. The Legionnaire grinned, and shrugged.

“Think nothing of it, we raided Southshore. The spoils of war should bolster the economy around here. I would imagine you’ll be getting plenty of business. As it stands, we have a troop of Orcs about two days ride from here, and they’ll be in town spending money as well. I’m sure some of them will need a stitch here and there.”

She nodded, and tried her best to seem grateful. Standing up she placed the gold piece into an ornate box on the mantle to her right. She looked at him, and with some hesitation, she asked: “Sir, before you rose, you were from Southshore, were you not?”

He glanced at her questioningly, and nodded.

“Why do you ask Seamstress?” He replied, with just a bit of venom in his voice. The undead rarely talked about life before their passing. This was dangerous conversation for Keira, and she knew that she had to word her question carefully.

“I was just wondering if they’ve bolstered their defenses with any of the local men. I knew everyone in that town at one time. I thought maybe I could help the raid effort if I could tell you about these men and their families.” She replied, doing her best to sound smooth and loyal.

He laughed a bit at this remark, and then sighed.

“You’ve got a good soul Seamstress, but you do enough for the raid effort when you patch up our armor and gear. The defenders over there are not the problem. During this last raid, we encountered the Scarlet Crusade.” He replied.

“The Scarlet Crusade?” She asked.

“Oh aye, you’re recently risen, so you probably don’t know much about them. They’re a group of humans. Normally they operate out of the North. They want to exterminate us. They’ve no care whether we’re of the Scourge or not. Other than the Lich King himself, they are our greatest threat. Vicious, zealous, and absolutely ruthless, they are. Their ranks are bolstered by twisted paladins and priests, which of course makes them especially dangerous to us. If you encounter them alone, it would surely mean your doom.” He said with a bit of trepidation in his voice.

“Are they truly that fierce?” She asked.

“Indeed Seamstress. They’re organized, and I had hoped we would never see them this far South, but apparently they’ve got a new field commander with some sort of connection to Southshore. He’s a big bastard, with a terrible scar on his face. We’ve tried to get more intelligence on him, but no one seems to know where he came from. All we know is that the Crusade has occupied Southshore, and in doing so, they’ve cut off all supplies from Stormwind.” The Legionnaire replied.

“Why would they do that?” she asked.

“The Crusade is twisted. They hate the Alliance almost as much as they hate us. They attack other humans.” He said, glancing at her.

“Oh” she said, her heart falling.

“Well Seamstress, I’m off to the Inn to have a drink. Take care of yourself.” He said as he exited her cottage. She waved after him before slumping back down into her chair. Not since the day she died, had she felt such loss and sorrow. Even if by some miracle chance Viktor had survived his encounter with the Scourge warrior, the Crusade, or one of the raids on Southshore would have surely taken his life by now. Her heart sank, and she felt herself weeping.

She spent the better part of the night sobbing. She had locked her door, and covered herself with an old shawl that had given her warmth and comfort in the past. It was well past midnight when she pulled herself out of her grief, and concluded that she would never find peace until she had visited his grave. Viktor, her angel, her sweet god of mercy. He was the only thing that would ever mean anything to her. If that meant her destruction, then so be it, she solemnly concluded. She had faced death once, nothing could be worse than her rising.

A pale moon sat fat over the hill as she slipped silently out of her house. The guard at the gate of Tarren Mill paid her little heed, as he sat vigilant for any sign of the Crusade. She slipped through the night on her bare feet, feeling cold, but determined. Her eyes scanned the distant horizon. She saw nothing, so she continued on toward Southshore.

She approached from the East, padding along as silently as she could manage. The path into town was disturbingly devoid of any guards. She had assumed she would need to slip past them once she arrived, but as she grew closer, the rotting stench of death filled what was left of her nostrils. As she prowled along, she felt something wet and cold slip between her toes. She didn’t need to examine it to realize that it was blood, curdled from a day in the sun. A shiver traveled up her spine, and she found herself wishing that she had brought something warmer than the paltry blanket she wore now. She continued southwest into the town, slipping behind the buildings, and ending up facing the Inn.

She pressed her body against the building, and listened for any sound of movement. The air was deathly still, which unnerved her even further. Vorlin had told her about this Crusade’s battle prowess, wouldn’t it make sense for them to at least have some sentries posted? Perhaps they were too arrogant to even consider such a notion. Maybe they assumed no one would dare attempt a night raid on the city they had unjustifiably claimed for themselves.

“Well, to hell with them, then” she thought to herself as she slipped further along the inn. A few more feet, and she would need to crawl beneath a window, which if her memory served, would overlook the kitchen area of the inn. She moved further down, preparing to crouch, when movement from inside the building caught her eye. Knowing it was dangerous, she took small glance inside.

Nothing on Azeroth could have prepared her for what she saw. There he was, in all of his splendor. Her one true love, Viktor, was a mere six feet away from her. He was wearing a white silken shirt with excellent stitching, scarlet trousers, and leather hunting boots. A set of the most beautiful plate armor she had ever seen sat in a neat pile in the corner. It took a moment for her eyes to refocus, and she had to throttle herself to keep from screaming his name. His hair was not as long, his physique even more impressive, and an entire side of his face was scar tissue, but it was certainly him. She felt herself swoon for but a moment, before a second figure entered the room.

She watched transfixed as the young blonde priestess entered the room. Keira had known the girl in life, and they had even at one time been friends. She watched as the girl said something to Viktor in that human language that Keira could no longer remember. Viktor merely nodded, and without another word the priestess sank to her knees. Viktor wasted no time, stepping quickly over to the girl, he raised his hand high, and landed a terrible against her pretty young face. The priestess sprawled from the blow, but quickly scurried back to her knees, reaching out and grabbing the waistband of Viktor’s trousers.

Viktor looked down at the girl, with a cruel glint gleaming in his good eye. The girl avoided eye contact as she pulled the giant’s trousers even lower. Keira cautiously slipped to the side to get a better angle, as she watched in fascination. As she changed vantage point, she could see a small trail of blood sliding out of the girl’s lip, as she looked toward the floor in terror and shame. The priestess finally pulled Viktor’s trousers low enough to free his massive cock. The girl took a moment to glance up at what she would soon have to service, and her eyes grew wide with shock and fear. Viktor said something else, with a cruel chuckle, and the girl only nodded.

The priestess took Keira’s former lover between her lips tentatively, and began to slowly work her mouth around the giant. She pursed her lips, and sucked on the tip for a moment, clasping her own hands behind her back, and using only her mouth to fellate him. He seemed pleased by this technique, pushing himself deeper into the young woman’s mouth, and pumping his hips in time with her strokes. Tears rolled down the girl’s face, as she felt him quickening his pace, pumping furiously into her mouth before shooting more seed than she could possible contain. Her mouth filled with the creamy white substance, and several droplets spilled over her chin. As he came, Viktor, threw his head back, and shouted “Keira” to the heavens. Finishing his climax, he looked down in disgust at the girl that had pleased him, and kicked her violently away. She scampered across the floor, and out of the room, leaving a few droplets of semen, and a few droplets of blood on the floor where she had been kneeling.

Keira watched in horror and fascination, as the love of her life stuffed his monstrous cock back into his trousers, sat down in a nearby wooden chair, and began to weep. His sobs were loud enough to fill the night with a sort of ghostly anguish. They were so loud in fact, that she did not hear the sound of footsteps behind her. It was only when she felt a sharp pain at her side that she turned quickly to find two men and a woman, all Paladins of the Scarlet Crusade standing behind her, burning a hole through her with their fearsome stares….

To be continued

Well another chapter down, longer than the last, and with a bit of spice thrown in there as a sample. This is my first fic, but I didn’t want it to be just smut. Thanks for the hits, ratings and reviews so far, they’ve convinced me that I should continue this thing, and see it through to the end. As always, I bow to the superior experience, and talent of the better writers on here, so if anyone has any helpful pointers, I’d love to read them. More to come on this, as the time and imagination allows.