Moments passed, precious time she had to make a decision before the pitchfork-wielding madman skewered her into a nearby tree. The other had succumbed to a well placed ice trap, and she let the blast of fire from her hands close his eyes for good. The farmer's pitchfork had already bit into her twice, however, and she reacted more on base instinct, her attack breaking the other prematurely from his place. As the enraged man bellowed and rushed at her now, another instinct took place, quickly muttering the words of a curse of fear in demonic--and almost bit through her tongue.
"Damnit!" she hissed to herself as she felt the prongs of the crude weapon pierce her side, gasping in pain. Magically guised as Forsaken, the enchantment refused her use of her power as a warlock while in this form--for all intents and purposes, she was basically a mage, and could only use the power available to her as she learned of it. It was the wrong time to make such a mistake. Suddenly, the human farmer seemed as fierce as a Fel orc.
Gritting her teeth through the pain, she focused her mind, condemning the farmer to thirty seconds of life spent as a bleating sheep, giving her enough time to haul herself from Hillsbrad, leaving the workers in peace. Running on down the road toward Tarren Mill, she paused, trying to catch her breath, a gesture that might have seemed strange for a Forsaken. The blood welled, fresh from her wounds, a bright flag to her real identity; it would be best to leave the main road. She ran into the hills, out of sight from passing travelers, and began to bandage herself the best she could. Watching the Medic bandage wounds on a regular basis was helpful now, and she grinned outwardly at the sufficient work she did.
She let out a frustrated breath, hardly remembering why she was sent to the human town. While she enjoyed the time spent learning a handle on her new magics, the vengeful missions the Forsaken sent her on left her in a state of bottled up anxiety. Working for them was necessary if she were to keep up the act, however. And among some of the heinous acts they would have her do, "Annise" found a way around them one way or another. Thirty human skulls were easily excavated from the graveyard in Deathknell, as the corpses and bones were regularly dug up.
"More fodder to add to the army," she had once been referred to as, when she first used the enchanted amulet and spoke to the Deathguard.
Still, she kept returning when she could. Seeing the Medic made it worth the few instances of discomfort. Even more so since the night at Goldenmist Village, where they exchanged rings, and silent vows. It was clear that Zam comprised all of her world now: he was her source of happiness. After some arguing, some hesitation, a priestess convinced her to search for answers about her condition, and some doors were opened as her mind was laid open. Anna finally knew where she came from, where she had been, after dancing in denial for weeks. There were some memories that would never be recovered again, but Anna was content with that, though the priestess could hardly agree. For the warlock, knowing her experience told her all she needed to know--some things were never meant to be known.
While knowledge was certainly a precursor to power, power is nothing when one is meant to serve and give up life for a single taste of it.
And so, her connection with the Darkness she so clung to became strained, finally letting go of it as she took up her powers in the arcane, in ice, and in fire. So much potency often left her winded in the energies that she tried to harnass, but it was exciting, knowing this wild magic. Studying the cities and the races of the Horde became commonplace for her, as the mass amounts of sketches in her tomes would entail. Many took interest in her jewelcrafting, so she began extending her services, offering to create original designs on request. Tattoos, or skin etches, as she called them, became popular as well, surprisingly. Her hands were steady, and gentle, which was imperative in such a craft.
As Annaliese pulled away from the Shadows however, she noticed that her beloved began to become…closer to it, which might have frightened her if she did not trust him entirely. She would often find him twirling an orb in his hands, and it alarmed her slightly when she found out he had captured a death knight, of all creatures. Still, Zam was the same quiet, helpful medic she knew him to be, though his patience seemed to wane at times with others. He was kept busy more often than not, and cherished the times when she came to him, but as he gazed at her, she could not help but shiver, feeling the strong aura of shadow pulse around his form. Strange that Archaes seemed to fall victim to such a change, but on more dire consequences. She doubted that Zam would have some dark parasite leeching off of him.
Then one night, Zamboozle, Medic extraordinaire, did something that changed her position with the Shadows. She did not know what came over him that night, in Brill, but she was in his arms in one moment, and then reeling from the shadow energies he began siphoning into her, setting all her nerves on flame. Caught between trepidation and alarming rapture, she soon became addicted to the feeling, to the enlivening power he gave to her. Alarming still, was when he had told her that she herself did the same to him, long ago.
She lowered herself to the moist grass, feeling a light wind whip at her neck from the hills. Checking her satchel for soul shards she didn't have, she groaned irritatingly at her mindset. Closing her eyes, she thought of the fountains of Stormwind, imagining that water might one day grace the old stone, instead of the occasional dancing druid or drunken mage…
Anna jumped from her seated position as she felt something brush against her, ready to strike with…something. A creature, formed from…what looked like living shadow, floated near her feet. It took the shape of a Dragonhawk Hatchling, shifting between a blue-violet color, ever moving. She looked around quickly, searching for the creature's owner, a little more than wary. It was not the first time she had seen such creations.
"Go on now," she spoke softly to it, making a waving motion with her hands. Instead, it neared her, trying to nuzzle against her skirts. Anna nearly shrieked.
"Stop that!" she cried out in alarm, paranoid. The creature shuddered somewhat, and with a look of sad disappointment, began to fade away, dematerializing in the cold wind. She stood there, staring at the spot where it floated for a moment longer, thoughtful. It did seem very familiar.
She had the sudden feeling that it would not be the last time she would see the creature.
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