Anyway, without further ado, Becca’s story, starring her Paladin, Esmerellda, and yours truly.

It was a perfect day for fishing. The Nagrand sky was blue with nary a cloud in sight, the weather warm with a cool, refreshing breeze. Esmerellda sat on the dock in front of Sunspring Post, her feet dangling into the water as she waited patiently for a fish to come by and nibble on the line. A wonderful day indeed to be outside, enjoying the fresh air without a care in the world instead of trudging through the elemental infested wasteland of Shadowmoon Valley.

“This is dreadfully boring. Are there not supposed to be patrols of Murkbloods nearby?”

Esmerellda sighed and glanced over at her companion, who had started complaining almost non-stop after about five minutes of arriving there. “The whole point of being here is to enjoy the weather and relax, not to go out looking for trouble, Lelissa.”

The Draenei warrior shrugged. “Why can we not enjoy the weather while we do something aside from sit here?”

Before Esmerellda could respond, there was a nibble on her line, and she turned her concentration towards reeling the fish in. She had almost gotten it completely reeled in when she heard Lelissa say from behind her, “Oooo, a patrol, this should be fun! Do not worry, I will be fine!”

A quick glance behind her revealed four Murkbloods, three of which looked to be raiders and one putrifier. Figuring that Lelissa could handle them until she had gotten the fish reeled in, Esmerellda continued with what she was doing, ignoring the sounds of battle behind her.

A few minutes later, the fish safely on the dock and in a basket with others like it, Esmerellda dropped her fishing pole and grabbed her mace and shield that were sitting beside her. Lelissa had by then killed two of the four, but another three had wandered by and decided to join the battle, and a fourth was headed into the fray as well. Esmerellda headed towards that one, distracting it before it could reach Lelissa and drawing its attention onto her.

After several minutes of fighting, the Murkblood Esmerellda was fighting dropped dead to the ground. Wincing, she cast a quick healing spell on herself before seeing how Lelissa was doing.
Lelissa had thinned the ranks down until there were only two left, and as Esmerellda watched, one of those got a lucky hit off and stunned Lelissa. Another lucky hit dropped her to the ground, gasping as blood spurted from her. Esmerellda quickly cast a blessing of protection on the fallen Draenei, and the two raiders turned from Lelissa towards her.

A few quick hits with her mace had one of them down, thanks to Lelissa injuring it beforehand. The last kept dodging and parrying every strike, while getting little scrapes past Esmerellda’s defenses, until Esmerellda stunned it. Using the holy power of the light, she shocked it and managed to kill it before it could regain its senses.

Esmerellda dropped her mace and shield and ran to Lelissa’s side, summoning her holy powers to cast a healing spell on her, when Lelissa said, “Oww, I think one of them actually managed to scratch me. I really hate it when they leave a scar.”

Esmerellda blinked, and found herself lying on her back, staring up at Lelissa as the Draenei examined her arm. “What?”

“Are you alright? I think that one hit you too hard. Do not worry; I took care of him for you.”

“But…”

“You know, you are very gulamir* for a paladin. Are you sure you are not a priest?” Lelissa asked, smiling warmly at her friend as she helped Esmerellda up.

Esmerellda stared at Lelissa, and then sighed. “I could have got him without your help.”

“Certainly you could have. Except that by the time you would have killed him, it would have been three days from now. Come now; let us go pay a special visit to the Naga in Shadowmoon Valley.”

The two of them started walking towards Telaar, Lelissa chatting animatedly, happily looking forward to more challenging fights, but Esmerellda was quiet and moping beside her. Noticing this, Lelissa draped her arm about her friend’s shoulder and said, “Next time, I will only severely injure it for you so you can finish it off quickly.”

After a moment’s consideration, Esmerellda nodded happily and the two continued on their way, discussing how many would “accidentally” make it past Lelissa and to Esmerellda.

*Squishy, in Draenei

Originally, I had intended to keep this blog as anonymous as possible, but in order to tell the story the right way, I had to keep the names. So, meet Lelissa, the Pixelated Executioner herself.

Hope you enjoy it.

Lelissa looked around at the landscape, shaking her head slightly to keep her long, white hair out of her face. Blinking away the dust blown about by the chilling wind, her luminescent eyes squinted against the burning red sun in the sky, adjusting to the harsh light. The wind was disconcerting since the day was warm; then again, the expanse of land beneath the shadow of Naxxramas was always caressed by the cold winds of death. Shivering slightly with the chill, she thought about having to clean her armor later. The dust that might work its way into the cracks between the bladed plates would be a pain to clean out, and despite her slender fingers, Lelissa’s hands were meant for swinging a sword, not delicate work.

She wasn’t sure why she was here, but her intuition told her that something was waiting for her in the Plaguewood, something that she needed to see. Stopping briefly at Light’s Hope Chapel, she decided that a prayer would be appropriate for her journey. Though never quite as devout as her sister, a well-known paladin among the Draenei, Lelissa still followed the Light and held her faith. Standing by the chapel, she reached out a gauntleted hand toward the stone, fingertips spread slightly, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.

“May my blade strike true, may my armor hold strong against the enemies of the Light.”

Her ritual complete, Lelissa opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and reached back to unhook her greatsword from the custom shoulder lock that held it strapped to her back. She didn’t expect much trouble on the road to Stratholme, but it never hurt to be prepared. The road didn’t reach to the Chapel, however, and there would be a short trek across the open, dying land, littered with gargoyles and plaguehounds. Lelissa wasn’t worried about them. Though certainly not the greatest Warrior in Azeroth, she was still quite powerful, and the creatures of the Eastern Plaguelands would keep their distance, or face a swift death.

Lelissa suddenly found herself standing before the great arch that spanned the road before the Plaguewood, not really sure how she had gotten there.

“Must have been lost in thought,” she mused, shaking her head. “Time to focus now.”

Stepping through the arch, right arm extended, blade held loosely in her right hand, Lelissa walked quickly into the heart of the Plaguewood. Passing the ruined homes and ziggurats, she quickly realized something was amiss; the undead were disquietingly absent. To confirm her suspicion, she carefully approached one of the ziggurats, and was shocked to find it without a guard. Unwilling to step inside, she returned to the road, and quickly continued on her way.

The cold wind suddenly rose, whipping around her like a tornado. A shiver raced down her spine, not because of the wind, but what she heard on it.

“My dear Lelissa… just a little farther, now.” The voice was cold, sinister, with an echo inside it, almost a voice within a voice.

“Who is out there?” she shouted, not caring who was alerted as her rage slowly began to build inside her. She was ready to fight, no matter what came at her. After a few minutes, no enemy appeared to fight, and the land was deathly silent once again. Her brow furrowed, mouth turning down into a scowl, and she resumed walking, venturing further into the Plaguewood. As she approached the fork in the road just south of Stratholme, she discovered just why the land was so empty and defenseless.

Lelissa’s spine stiffened at the sight before her. It seemed as though the entire host of the Scourge lay between her and Stratholme. It would be impossible to fight through so many, and she warily stepped backward, sword raised in a ready stance.

“I do not think you want to do that, Lelissa.”

Lelissa’s eyes opened wide as a figure strode out of the mass of rotting flesh, stopping to stand in front of the host like a general. There was no mistaking the stance, the horns curving out of the helm, and the claws at the end of the slender fingers… this was another Draenei, or worse, an Eredar. Lelissa took another step back, uncertain now, her rage fighting with her fear as they both built up inside her.

“I really think you should look before you take another step.”

Warily, Lelissa looked behind her, and found her path to be completely blocked by another tremendous undead host. Casting her glance all around, she found that she was completely surrounded, and the only way out of this mess would be to fight. Turning back to face the apparent leader, Lelissa spoke with all the courage she could muster.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing more than a little family reunion.” Lelissa could hear the sneer in that sinister voice, mocking her, as though she should know more than she did.

“You are no relative of mine. You keep the wrong company.”

Lelissa readied her sword, and the figure drawing closer to her seemed unconcerned by the threat of steel as she began to casually unbuckle her helm. As the helm opened up, Lelissa caught the glimpse of dark bluish-green hair, and felt her heart hammering inside her chest, her rage being quashed by pure panic. The helm came away, revealing a face all too familiar to Lelissa, and her sword dropped to the ground next to her hooves in shock.

“What is this? No hug for your loving sister, Lelissa?”

“Minessa… no…” Lelissa was shaking her head, denying aloud what her heart and mind clearly saw: the face of her fraternal twin, the Paladin who so believed in the Light.

“Minessa no more, my dear sister… you may call me… Malyss.” Malyss smiled cruelly, eyes glowing ice blue, and Lelissa screamed in denial…

…jolting upright in bed, shrieking at the top of her lungs. The sweat-soaked sheets of her bed clung to her body, her mind was filled with panic, and her heart was full of dread.

Death was approaching Azeroth… and Malice would herald its coming.