(( again violence, not for the screamish. And again thanks to Ala for editing my crappy english))
The boy startled when he spotted a ghostly figure staring at him. The creature had once been a human child that could not have been older then twelve. Maybe it had looked sweet one day, but now its face had mostly rotted away – showing bone where there used to be skin and flesh. The patches of flesh that had survived were an ashen colour, the once black hair now dull and dry. The animated undead child whore the finest silk clothing, but it could not hide the bones sticking out of various places on its body, nor the places on its hands and neck where the skin had rotted away. With a mixture of relief and sorrow, Elwin realized that the eerie glowing eyes that where looking back at him with a startled expression where his own. He had been looking in one of the dark glassed scrying mirrors of his master. The boy looked away from his own reflection and fought back his tears –at least it felt that way. Elwin’s tears had dried up a long time ago; truly crying was beyond his abilities.
The boy looked around and was even more appalled by the scene around him then by his own reflection. The round room had countless shelves on the walls, stuffed with books and instruments. Some radiated so much evil it hurt Elwin’s eyes to even look at them. There was no visible entrance to the room and it was lit by small purple glowing orbs that floated lazily into the air, making the shadows jump from side to side constantly. In the middle of the room was a dark red circle, made of complicated demonic runes. Elwin shivered. He too had heard the rumors about the vile infant sacrifices that created the circle. He spotted the smirking form of his master across the room, and didn’t doubt for a moment that the man wouldn’t recoil from such an evil act. Still, Elwin had to sigh when he gazed upon his master. In life he had always been interested in being around attractive people, and his master was the only beautiful thing he had seen in many years.
Elwin’s warlock master was an elf. Not one of the noble forest dwellers that called themselves Night Elves but a Blood Elf. His skin was light, clearly he had spent more time inside reading books then outside in the sun. The master’s face was a bit broader than that of most elves, softening the sharp angular features that are so common to the race. It was framed with hair as black as the night, currently tied back in a carefully “messed” tail. His full lips where set in an eager smirk, accentuated by a well groomed goatee. It was the eyes that haunted Elwin the most. The orbs where pitch black. The pupils so dilated that the common green of his race never showed. It gave the impression one could look right into the master’s soul, but the undead boy knew better then that. Even if his master had a soul, it would be as vile as the dark purple energy that crackled across the black eyes. Elwin couldn’t tare his gaze off the elf, and noticed he was wearing a stylish dark purple robe of the finest material. The long sleeves probably had dozens of secret pockets where the master kept his spell components. It didn’t show due to the flowing robe, but Elwin knew from experience that the body underneath was well shaped and muscled. The boy had to suppress a shiver of mixed excitement and disgust at the memory. This used to disturb him, but he had become used to his slave existence a long time ago. The young slave spotted the wicked looking scythe the master usually had strapped to his back. The weapon was not only sharp enough to severe a man’s head from his shoulders with a single blow; it was also enchanted with powerful ice magic. Any cut it made would freeze immediately, leaving a wound that was extremely hard to heal even when one could use magic and the boy could feel the hateful cold of the weapon from the other side of the room. This all combined, and many things the boy could not see, was the power of his master… the power of Vivex Felarorah.
Like any of the slaves his master kept in secret in long forgotten tunnels of the undead city, Elwin was terrified of the mad elf. They had seen his cruelty first hand. The utter lack of caring for others and the delight the young elf felt at the misery of others. Yes, Elwin was indeed terrified. Yet he longed to be close to the master, to the power. He always told himself that as long as he did what the elf wanted, he would have no reason to destroy his unlife. After a long time, he had started to believe it. Vivex nodded at him so slightly that Elwin would have missed it had he still needed to blink. The child walked around the demonic circle towards his master, making sure not to cross the lines. The air around the circle seemed to shift, and the shadow ward around him became transparent so he could look inside. He winced at the sight of the corpse, all that was left where the flowing red robes and matching gloves and boots. The body itself was little more than a skeleton. Dire maggots and flesh eating beetles fought over the last pieces of flesh. Elwin recognized the clothing. So this is what had happened to Marlon, the master’s long time friend.
Marlon had disappeared a few weeks ago, and it had given the slaves a new topic to speculate about. Every single one of them had heard the verbal fights between Marlon and the master. Well to be precise, Marlon had done most of the shouting while Vivex had ignored the other male’s rants with his typical aloofness. They had all known that Marlon had wanted more than the master. The Felarorah plotted to gain power only to throw it all into chaos. Chaos was what the elf valued over anything else and he himself had a nature so unpredictable and chaotic it would make a demon lord proud. Marlon however, had wanted power to rule. More importantly, he had wanted power to destroy those that had wronged him – real or imaginary. The fire mage had become increasingly bold over the years, using every opportunity to nag at Vivex. The warlock had kept him by his side anyway. Maybe he still had plans for the explosive and aggressive male, or maybe he had enjoyed watching him take his anger out on the slaves. The warlock greatly enjoyed seeing others suffer, but often couldn’t be bothered to inflict it himself. Marlon’s anger bursts had become the nightmare of all the servants. Every minute of every day they had hoped that Marlon would cross some sort of line and that the master would rid himself of the unstable magi. For months they prayed for an end to the reign of terror, but it hadn’t come.
Late one night, Elwin had been running through the underground hallways on his way to the living quarter for his night shift. There he had caught Marlon, standing over the bloodied corpse of what might have been a female elf once. It had been beaten so badly however that it was hard to make out any features in the bloody mess. The boy had been frozen to the ground in shock at the animalistic look in Marlon’s eyes as they set upon him. He would have been destroyed that night had it not been for Vivex. He appeared out of no-where, looking absolutely terrifying. The fel energy had crackled around him, eyes almost completely purple with rage, but the most horrible thing had been his voice. It had sounded just as calm as always. Vivex spoke slow, emphasizing certain letters like “r”, “s” and “t” like he always did. Marrlon... you… dissapoin-t me again. Have –you- forgotten tha-t I needed this girl for my plans? Vivex tilted his head, looking at the cowering form of Marlon. The mage looked bewildered at his bloody hands then remembered why he had been so mad. You only needed her to warm your bed! Vivex allowed himself a sigh… not this discussion again. Marlon crawled to Vivex and took his hand in his own, kissing it while lisping: I love you Vivex... your mine... right? All mine. The male stood up and started kissing Vivex’s neck, jaw and cheek. The warlock rolled his eyes and gestured for Elwin to leave them. The last Elwin had seen of Marlon before tonight was his look of eager anticipation, too foolish to realize he had gone too far this time.
Now the mage was nothing more than a collection of bones. Elwin felt no compassion; Marlon had been a tyrant and had gotten what he deserved. He closed in on Vivex, and as always he felt like he had to step through thicker air. Vivex’s power oppressed him, made his limbs feel heavier and his head foggy. The boy took his place right in front of the elf, back turned to him and watched the beetles fight. Vivex absentmindedly started stroking the boy’s dry musty hair with long, slow strokes. Elwin shuddered. Being undead, with a body that had mostly rotten away, nobody but his master even cared coming near him. It hadn’t always been that way.
For a while it felt like he could feel the fresh summer breeze cool his sun warmed skin once more. The lands around him where filled with colour, the green of the grass combined with the countless colours of the flowers. He was playing tag with the other children from the small village nearby. They laughed, ran, had fun and felt safe within the small human community. He slept in a huge bed with his brothers and sisters, and every night their mother would sing them to sleep while stroking his black curls lovingly. Elwin winced. People had started to fall ill. The plague only took the very young and very old at first. He could still hear the sobs of the women who had to bury their youngest children and beloved parents. The sobs had turned into screams of terror when those some diseased loved ones had risen from their graves to pray upon the living as undead scourge. Elwin had been one of the last to die, all alone…driven mad by the sights he had been forced to witness. Death was not the end for him, as the absolute ruler of the undead – the Lich King- did not discriminate when it came to his minions. All races, ages and sexes where welcome within his ranks… welcome as long as they had the decency to die first of course. Elwin had been controlled by the Lich King and his generals. He had been a mindless slave but, in effect, very happy.
Then she had come… that vile banshee. In her arrogance she had “freed” herself and many of the other undead, without ever asking if they wanted to be freed! Elwin had been one of those whose bond with the Lich King was severed. Never in his life or undead existence had he felt so alone. The Banshee Queen Lady Sylvanas picked out a fitting name for the group. Forsaken... and that is what they where and still are today… forsaken. They had traveled to the once great human city of Lorderon. The city had been in ruins, but the old sewers where still intact. They had settled there, and proudly named the place their Undercity. The Dark Lady had even managed to ally herself with the savage orcs, trolls and tauren. They spend their time plotting… searching for away to exact revenge on the Lich King. Elwin had no such ambitions… He had been alone. No forsaken had cared for the small boy sitting in the shadows, hugging himself in a desperate attempt to comfort himself. Elwin sat, and did nothing. He had done nothing until little over a year ago when the Blood Elves joined the races of the Horde. Vivex had once lived in the city when it still belonged to the humans, and had been looking for his old secret hide-outs. The young warlock had spotted the boy and had taken him home to feed him and clothe him. Vivex could be chaotic like that, and even though Elwin knew he hadn’t done it out of any sort of compassion or caring he was still grateful that the master had given him a purpose.
The vermin finished with the corpse and disappeared with a bright white light, drawing Elwin back to the present. Vivex stopped stroking the boy’s hair and made some elaborate hand gestures. The now clean white skull of Merlon floated towards them and hovered in front of them a few inches away. Vivex eyed his handiwork for a moment, then turned the forsaken boy around and kneeled down to face him. Elwin looked at Vivex’s lips, too scared to look him in the eyes. He glanced up for a split second, and his gaze was locked there. Vivex smiled at him, looking almost like a loving father. He hugged Elwin close, purring: You, have been a very –very- good boy. Elwin felt so happy and protected that his brain never registered the blade that suddenly appeared in Vivex’s hand. He never felt the pain as the warlock used it to slit his throat from ear to ear. Elwin died with his thick, black undead blood gushing out of his wound, but the smile never left his face.
Vivex picked the boy up gently and stepped into the circle, where he laid him to rest on top of the bones of his former lover. The boy’s eyes started to glaze and Vivex took out a demonic looking blade. It was black with a bluish hue. The hilt was made of bone with no further decoration. At the moment of Elwin’s passing Vivex thrust the blade deep into his heart. The blade eagerly fed on the childs soul energy, making it grow hot. Vivex chuckled and took the blade to the floating skull. He had to pause to enjoy the shivers of delight that where coursing through his body, still high from the recent kill. A shame he hadn’t thought to bring another slave, he thought. Sexual energy was so easily corrupted and would have made the weapon he was making even more powerful. He shrugged and emptied the blade’s energy into the skull. Elwin’s energy twirled around in the skull for a long time before it was finally consumed. The skull became transparent and a purple glow emanated from it. Vivex grinned as the skull turned to face him. It started lisping in a demonic dialect, so softly he could only hear it because it was speaking directly into his mind as well. He placed his face in the palm of his hand and barked out a mad laugh when he recognized the voice of Marlon. He calmed a bit, then chuckled more at the irony. Marlon had been an excellent scryer before he had fallen to his own rage. The skull would become his most precious possession, since it could scry anybody at anytime. It seemed fitting to him that it had inherited the mage’s voice, Merlon always had trouble letting go after all. It was time to test the skull and he started walking through the secret door. Vivex grinned as the skull followed him meekly. He snorted and frowned, deciding a long relaxing bath first would do him good. Dealing with the slave children was always such a filthy business.
As he left, the bodies of Merlon and the slave boy where left in complete darkness. They where alone again, this time for good.
