Awakening (Part 1)

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The Dalaran sun shone into her eyes as she emerged from the sewers she'd spent the night in, causing her to squint. "How the fel is belore so bright this far north of the world?", she asked herself.
Despite having cleansed her skin of the filth and dirt she'd allowed herself to become caked in, her clothing still stank of bloodthistle, sweat, and vomit, having had no change of clothing. It was also in terrible condition, once grand, self-tailored clothing tattered and torn, the wear and tear of a solid week of sitting in bushes clear to behold.
Also clear to behold was her substance abuse, her hands blistered, akin to the early stages of Wretchedness, and stained with a reddish-filth. As hard as she'd scrubbed, and caused her hands to bleed, these stains simply wouldn't shove. She hoped they, and the blisters, would clear with time.
"Only the Orcs would deem you dishonorable from fleeing death". The words of her friend, who had taken her in to her meager home, rang in her ears. "There will be opportunities in the future to reclaim glory."
It had taken these words to cause Sariella to make the journey into the city, tossing a large cowl over her head as she walked shoeless through the bustling arcane streets. She kept her head down, convinced everyone around her had heard the tale of "The Coward", and would kill her if they'd recognised her.
True or not, she approached the Northern bank, having crossed the glances and gazes of people whose daily lives did not terribly concern her. Only her own required attention.
Category:Story