Lyndal Deathdancer

Lyndal Deathdancer is a formidable undead assassin, native to the mage city-state of Dalaran. She is well known for her eccentric display of devotion towards the young Warchief Thrall. She leads a clan of misfits from all walks of life in the Horde, known as the <Guild name redacted>. They fight proudly to secure the Horde's place in the world, ensuring freedom for themselves and the peoples of the disparate Horde races against the many powers of Azeroth who would see them driven to extinction.

## Early Childhood

Lyndal grew up in the city of Dalaran with her mother Elaine and father Harold of the Bure family. Elaine Bure was born as the daughter of herbalists in small village in the countryside of Lordaeron. Harold Bure, originally hailing from the kingdom of Alterac, earned himself a position as a notable government official within the city, despite not being a magi himself. As a child, Lyndal was well cared for. The Bure family was comfortably wealthy, and Lyndal received abundant attention and love from her parents. Ever since she was a young girl, her parents took her to see the marvelous theatrical performances of Dalaran. From the age of four she expressed a wild interest in joining the performers. Her parents were wary of the hardships in the lifestyle of being an actor, however they eventually agreed that their daughter needed a good outlet for her unbridled spirit. Lyndal was enrolled in one of Dalaran's most illustrious dancing schools. She proved to be naturally gifted in the art of dance and lived joyously for the first decade or so of her life.

## Adolescence

Not long after reaching her thirteenth name-day, Lyndal's cozy life would change immensely. Both of her parents came down with an unknown disease. The best wizards and healers of the city were unable to cure the strange affliction. Harold and Elaine Bure passed away shortly after, leaving her as the sole caretaker for her own well being and her family's home, as none of her relatives lived within Dalaran City.

She was completely distraught for some time. The money left to her by her parents wouldn't sustain herself nor their family's luxurious and expensive home forever, so eventually she had to take action. She sought an appeal to the government officials for support. She was met with many offers of marriage, mostly from fat old City Mages. The prospect of locking herself into a marriage at such a young age with somebody she didn't even know terrified Lyndal.

She felt lost for a time. She was in a dark place and she had never felt so alone before. The poor girl was desperately desiring the kinship of her family. Longing to find a place for herself, and needing work to support herself she was pulled once again towards the dramas performing in Dalaran. She joined the Wizard's Wonder acting troupe, performing as dancer in their shows. She enjoyed the company of her varied compatriots, and learned many things from them. She even found a love interest in a young man—a fire juggler performer named Jesper, and she found happiness for a time.

## Living in the Ghetto

Well into her fifteenth year Lyndal had long since been evicted from her ancestral home, since she had been unable to pay on the extravagant property. Despite the success of the Wizard's Wonder and her own personal success in her acts within their shows, she wasn't making too much coin. She moved into a poor area of the city, much more dangerous than she was accustomed to.

One night, at the end of a late show Jesper was walking Lyndal back to her home. They winded through the snakelike alleyways of Dalaran. Suddenly they became very circumspect as a muscular man wielding a cutlass barred their way from going forward. The couple moved to escape past him by turning down a side street, and they were met with another thug stepping towards them. They rushed to run back the way they had came and even more menacing figures joined the ring, encircling them.

Lyndal was terrified for her life. The street thugs demanded her and Jesper's coin, they gave it up without any quarrel. Jesper asked the ruffians if they could leave now, the lead of the group told him that he could leave, and the girl would stay with them. Jesper refused to leave her, much to her relief, but the thugs violently threatened him. Lyndal was scared speechless and torn inside. On one hand it was terrifying for her to be left with these men, and on the other hand they could really hurt Jesper.

Things escalated quickly as one of the thugs swung his hammer aiming right for Jesper's head. Jesper ducked and swept the assailant's feet from underneath him, the thug hit the ground with a loud thud. Two of the thugs grabbed Lyndal roughly by either arm. She yelped out in distress. Jesper spun around, to be met by the first thug they encountered thrusting his cutlass into Jesper's chest.

Lyndal screamed out in horror, "Noooooooo!". The thug pulled his blade out from her boyfriend's body. Jesper fell to his knees, grasping at the wound and gasping for breath.

"Stupid boy." the murderer barked as he spat on his corpse. He lifted his sword to the air and in one horizontal sweep, decapitated her lover. Her pained screams were unintelligible by any words, but felt by those who had experienced great grief. Tears ran down Lyndal's face, she couldn't breath and she was losing sense of herself. But *they* were not yet done with her.

"Alright Chomp, good work. You killed the boy. You get at her first." all of street thugs cheered at the proclamation of their leader. Next thing she knew the one that killed Jesper was grabbing her from the other two and he slammed her into the nearby wall. She grunted and pleaded with him to no avail. He tore at her shirt, ripping it to shreds off her skin. He had her pinned to the wall while he groped her. She was desperate and was going to lose everything at this point. She clumsily grabbed the dagger hidden within her pant leg, and in one swift movement stabbed it into his stomach with all her might, and twisted it about inside him in the same way that she felt twisted inside. She lost her grip on the hilt of the dagger as it bore within him.

The man shouted in pain, "Ahhh! You little bitch! She stabbed me!". With the deft grace of a dancer she had already slipped out of his grasp before he could grab her. A couple ruffian moved to get ahold of her with their hands. She smoothly moved between them dancing just out of their reach. Another swung weapons at her and again she managed to evade his blows, even if narrowly. As she moved away she couldn't help but find herself directly in front of the leader of this gang. He swung at her and she dove onto the ground. Landing on her side, she spun onto her back and saw several gnarled, angry faces looking back at her, approaching her. Lyndal panicked and crawled away as fast as she could. She was backed into a wall again, frightened, half naked and covered in a mix of blood and mud. The closest thug stomped his foot on her hard, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Her vision became cloudy.

Suddenly she felt the weight on her chest lift. She looked up and couldn't believe what she saw. The man who was just assaulting her was lying still on the cobblestones. Another was clutching the stump of his severed hand. She saw a figure hooded in a dark cloak, wielding blades. The others looked in surprise for a moment, and then all charged in on him.

And just as it started, in what seemed like an instant, it was over. She couldn't believe what she saw. This person was significantly outnumbered, and then in a few fluid movements, he had brought them all down. Who was he? The adrenaline started to die down a bit and as she no longer feared for her life, she remembered the life she had just lost. She moved over to the headless corpse that had been her love and cried. She broke down to a place of despair she had thought she had finally healed from. Now it was back again.

The man who saved her spoke, "I'm sorry about the boy." She managed to look up at him and saw a man dressed in dark leathers, bearded and studying her intently, yet she could also see a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"I-I felt so helpless." Lyndal said to him.

"Well you didn't look completely helpless." he replied, "that was an excellent attack you made." He motioned towards a body, "That one is already unconscious and will soon bleed out to death. You avenged him and managed to avoid getting yourself skewered in the process, that's pretty impressive."

"I couldn't do anything to save him though. I was powerless."

"Well true, maybe this time you were. But next time you won't be. You'll be able to protect yourself, and the ones you love."

"How? How could I?"

"Would you like me to teach you my skills and meet others who can help you as well?" she looked back at the corpse of her former boyfriend. She never wanted to feel so helpless again. There was nothing left for her now. The man picked her dagger from the ground and handed it to her. She reached out gingerly and took the blade into her own hand.

"Yes, I'll come with you." she replied, tears streaming down her face.

## Assassin's Guild

Lyndal trained in the Assassin's Guild of Dalaran for many years. She was a prodigy, proving to be just as talented of an assassin as she was a dancer. Her teacher reminded her that the two were not different. She was just learning to dance with a blade now was the key difference. She learned various arts within her training: poisons, stealth, deception, disguise, acrobatics, lockpicking, etc.. She gained a reputation for herself within the guild as she quickly rose up the ranks. After a few years she became known as one of the most deadly and youngest assassins. She was proud of it too, especially being so young. She put everything she had into the dance of death.

She took many contracts for the guild over the years. It was known that her targets didn't escape. She often had a strong desire to take her talents to destroy the underground crime rings of the city. Even though Jespers' killer's lives were already taken that night, she couldn't stand the idea that there were more people like that out there. That other innocent civilians were being beaten, abused, raped or murdered galled at her. Still her teacher was very clear with her that the guild couldn't get involved in that. Some problems, he said, were bigger problems of the world, that we couldn't solve just by murdering some fellows. Other fellows would take their place**—**and besides the Assassin's Guild operated off of coin. She needed the coin to live yes, but that wasn't what drove her. Neither money nor position of power within her guild were what motivated her. She learned these skills to survive and now lived for the art form that lended itself to her profession**—**her dance with death. She felt so alive, and so... in power. She could deliver death to those who deserved it. Yet the guild operated as they always had**—**for coin. She was obligated by the guild too, she couldn't just go strike out on her own, as she had a reputation to maintain as a member of the Assassin's Guild. If her unsanctioned killings were traced back back to her... well it *would* be a problem for her. So she passed by time, perfecting her art, practicing within code of the Assasin's Guild. That is until one day.

## A Rogue Contract

It was in the winter, twenty years after the First War, Lyndal was 24 years old. There was a strong tension in the air, holding the city captive. Rumors that the orcs were breaking out of their internment camps, that the orc clans were gathering for something in the foothills and mountains. There were small skirmishes between the Alliance of Lordaeron and the Orcish Horde. Some claimed that the old orc Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer had been spotted with the orc warbands. Yet even with such news the city was abuzz with an even more curious concern. A mysterious sickness was afflicting the countryside. Nobody quite knew what was causing it, or what it was. The whole matter was a great uncertainty. In hushed voices it was told that this sickness was of a dark, perverted nature. It was whispered that things stirred that shouldn't be. Things that used to be alive, but weren't anymore. Wild rumors were heard about, and they might have been just that.

Lyndal moved between the rooftops framed by the dark night sky and slid down into the alleyway. She turned around the corner, and there was the person she was to meet tonight. He was a wiry man, bald headed, cloaked in robes of purple, the color of the Kirin Tor, but also intermixed with black. Lyndal cocked an eyebrow, he was very clearly a mage, whoever he was. He regarded her with a slight bow and spoke, "Ahh! Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me here Lyndal. My name is Avras.".

"What is it that you want Avras?"

He smiled at her, "I have an offer for you.".

"What do you mean an offer?"

"I need you to take somebodies life. Oraneth Flamedhara." he said. She took the letter at of her pocket and looked at it again.

"I thought this wasn't on guild business."

"It's not. The guild won't take a target like this." She knew what he meant, and she also knew Oraneth. He was one of the loathsome old wizards who had wanted to marry her. A high ranking political official within the city.

"So why should I take him out then? You know what would happen if the guild found out I went and did this on my own? They would take my head!"

"I didn't know that you were afraid of them. I had heard that your talents were unmatched, even within the guild you are the rising star."

"Stop it!" she snapped, "Why do you want this?".

"It is not me, some very important people have ordered this. They have personally selected you and asked me to tell you."

"Who are these people?" she questioned. He just smiled and didn't respond. She sighed, the anonymity of her employer came with the territory. She wasn't against killing the mage Oraneth. The man had refused to help her when she was younger, and wanted to take advantage of her instead. Still it would be a risky move for her career. As if hearing her thoughts he spoke.

"I have a poison." he pulled out a vial, "undetectable by magic, odorless and colorless. Nobody will know it was you. I just need you to make sure Oraneth drinks his fill of it... and don't worry about the guild, your new employers will take care." He reached into his robes and pulled out a sack and tossed it to her. She grabbed it and felt the weight of it. It was ***heavy***. She looked inside and it was filled with gold coins. "Another three of those when you complete the job." he said.

"Very well. You have yourself a deal."

## Wizard Hunting

Getting in was easier than expected, she came in broad daylight. She had snuck into the courtyard surrounding the Violet Citadel, and made her way to the Servant's entrance. It was guarded, though she was garbed like any other servant girl and was let in without issue. She followed the hallways in until she made her way around to the kitchens.

Here servants hustled about quickly, making dough, tending fires, boiling cauldrons filled with stew, chopping vegetables, all of the activities to be expected in the kitchen. Everybody seemed busy at work so she figured she should get started looking busy as well. Her eyes peered over to a set of trays with plates of food stacked on top.

All the sudden she had to turn around as a woman's voice yelled at her, "Hey you idiot! What are you standing around looking for? Are you new here?". Lyndal saw who was yelling at her, an unpleasant fat lady in an apron, with an air of authority about her.

Lyndal curtsied to the woman, "Yes. My name is Amarylis, I just started here. Apologies m'am."

"Well Amarylis, you best behave yourself." the woman spat back at her, "I don't take any slouches around here. Now take those trays and get them to the mages!"

"To, the mages?"

"Yes! What are you deaf? Did Wanda hire a deaf girl to work in the kitchens? I swear I'm going to strangle her! Now go!"

"Yes mistress." Lyndal curtsied to her again, not wanting to infuriate this angry blubbering woman. Still she was glad the woman had given her a chance to do exactly what she needed. She picked out the tray that had the card "Oraneth Flamedhara" and set herself up a flight of stairs.

When she finally arrived to a place where she was alone, she slipped the vial from her pouch and mixed its contents into the bowl of stew on Oraneth's plate. She continued her way along the citadel and got directions from some guards as to where Oraneth's chambers were. She finally arrived to an elaborately decorated wooden door, clearly crafted by the elves of Quel'thalas. She knocked on the door, waited a moment and a voice yelled from within, "Come in!".

His chambers were luxurious, reminding her of her childhood home, although she admitted this was fancier still than what she grew up with. Oraneth sat at a desk that had books, manuscripts, writing tools and various other instruments sprawling all over it. He had his back to Lyndal, seated in his chair. "Lunch is here sir." she told him.

He merely replied, "What, lunch already? Oh yes, just be a dear and leave it for me on that table there. Thank you." She set his meal down as he asked and he continued writing with his quill, engrossed in his work.

"Yes, will do. The stew is quite delicious today, make sure you eat some." He didn't reply, already distracted. *The fool.* She thought, *I'm his demise and he didn't even look at me.* She left his room and made her way back down to the kitchen. She would work longer for the day, as to not arouse suspicion, and then she made her way out of the Violet Citadel.

The city-magi Oraneth Flamedhara perished, and Lyndal's employers were quite happy. In particular she was told they were thrilled with her and wished to continue to work with her. Soon after they did. Still Avras was the only one she met with, and she wondered who he worked for. Clearly he was a mage of the Kirin Tor, but it was strange that her next targets were Kirin Tor magi as well. There must be some sort of power struggle going on, and she was there to even the scales. Whatever their reasons she took more offers. She was just as successful with each target. Up until the mage Kaivan Roole.

She had handled him in the same way as the others. She made her appearance as one of the servant girls and brought him his food in his chambers. Kaivan grinned at her, "Thank you. Please take a seat and keep me company while I eat." he said.

"Oh thank you for the offer. I really must be going now or the mistress will get angry." Lyndal replied.

"Nonsense! I'm a mage of the city, a personal friend of Antonidas himself. Do not worry yourself. Take a seat." Feeling like she had no other option she sat down with him. "Now what is your name?" he asked.

"Amarylis sir." she replied.

"Beautiful name. Please I don't want to be rude. Share my meal with me. Have some." He pushed the tray towards her.

"No thank you**—**I mean that's very kind of you sir, but I'm not hungry right now."

"Please, it would be dishonorable of me as the host if I didn't feed you. I can't eat until you try some of this stew first." She tried to talk her way out of it, but he wasn't having any of it. He was insistent that she eat, and he wasn't going to let her leave until she did. At this point she had to face the truth, *he knows.*

 "Alright okay," she said, "very well sir. I thought it would be disrespectful, but I will have some.". She reached for the spoon with her left hand, and with her right hand grabbed a knife from her person, hidden under the table. She held the spoon filled with broth and bits of meat up to her mouth and smiled at him. She made a motion as if to eat some, and whirled her knife out, throwing it straight at his heart. A strange thing happened then. Oraneth's form began to blur and the knife sailed through his dissipating form that was gone in the blink of an eye.

She swore, "Fucking mages!". She heard the whizz of arcane magic bolting towards her just as she felt it. She lithely danced between the missiles that would have seared into her flesh. The bolts slammed into the bookshelves lining the walls, sending smoldering books flying. He kept firing the bolts at her and she strafed, narrowly dancing between them. She tried to make her way closer, one step at a time as she danced between his attacks. She finally closed the gap and with tremendous agility moved her blades in. She sliced across his chest in a dual motion and lifted her blades up and slashed across neck. He fell to the ground, sputtering blood from his mouth, neck and chest.

She took a breath, but that's all she was allowed. She could now hear running towards the room, and voices shouting too. Other guards and mages certainly. She looked around, *Damn! Damn it all to hell, she thought.* There was no way to get away from this now. They would know she was sure of it. The window caught her eye. *Only way out.* She kicked open the glass pane of the window and hopped out. As she did so she could feel the heat of fireballs flying right past her, *close one*.

As she fell, she thudded against the branch of a tree, and several more on her way down. She fell to the ground, breath completely lost from her body. Her ribs were certainly bruised, if not broken. She had to get out though, it wasn't safe, but her adrenaline rush kept her going and she made it out of the Violet Citadel.

## Dalaran Sewers

A few days had passed, since her failure with Oraneth. She had killed him yes, but it didn't matter that he was dead**—**she was found out. They would be looking for her. She was forced to hide in the sewers. Although that was the safest place to be right now, it wasn't a pleasant place to be. She was nursing her ribs, they were still feeling tender. She had to find some food here though, so she went around stalking the rats.

She found a big fat one and chased it down a sewer pipe. She turned the corner, caught up with it and threw her knife at it, skewering the beast. "Got you," she exclaimed.

"Got you too." a voice spoke. It was one she was familiar with, it belonged to her master in the Assassin's Guild. She froze, out of the shadows before her appeared the figure of her teacher. He did not look happy. "Why Lyn? Why did you this? What drove you?" She didn't answer right away. She never expected that she would fail. She was so confident in herself, she could do anything, and she knew she was better than anybody else in the guild, even her master.

"I don't need you anymore, okay? I can take care of myself now."

"No you've made a mistake." He said, "The whole city is after you! There's a bounty on you."

"I'll find a way! I'll be fine. I'm going to leave this city." she snapped.

He shook his head, "No you don't understand. There's a bounty on your head. My hands are tied, I can't ignore the order of the Council of Dalaran. You must be dealt with. He spun his blades down on her, she parried upwards and kicked his leg. He moved back, unbalanced. She whirled a fury of blows upon her old master. He moved, parrying, dodging and ducking her attacks. He pressed forward on her and she was on the defensive, dipping, diving, dancing away from his poison coated blades. They danced for some time like this, two highly skilled assassins. She found an opening, she grabbed his arm as they were locked in close quarters and elbowed him heavily in the chest. He lurched backwards and she took her blades, cutting into his wrists, slicing the muscle. He dropped his blades and cursed, crying out in pain.

She went in for the killing blow. Only she was stopped. Sharp pain erupted, exploding through her torso. She was in so much pain, it happened so fast, she wasn't sure. Next thing she knew she was lying on the ground, her blood pooling around her. A blade had sliced through her heart. She felt footsteps walking near her. Many pairs of feet surrounded her. She saw other members of the guild were here as well. She was... outnumbered. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was in disbelief and everything was... getting cloudy... foggy... fading away...

## Deathdancer

"Yes. It's working. Can you hear me? Hello?" The words passed through her consciousness as she hazily opened her eyes. Everything was a blur. It took a while for her to be able to see things clearly. She couldn't remember who... or what... Eventually her gaze focused in and she saw somebody she recognized. She couldn't recall who, but he was familiar. A wiry looking bald fellow. He must have seen the recognition in her eyes for he spoke, "Ahh... yes. Welcome. My name is Necromancer Avrus, we have met before."

"And who, who am I?" she asked, "And why do I feel so... so... empty."

"You are my Deathdancer. You live once again to serve the Lich King. You will slay the Wizards of this city to prepare for His coming. You will fill fulfilled as you squeeze the life out of their lungs and devour their flesh. Now arise."

She moved and stood up off of the table she had been laying on. They were in a room, lit with candles spread along the chamber's floor. The floor and walls were covered in dark runes, most drawn in blood. Skulls littered the floor, and dark implements were gathered on the tables. She noticed her own arm, had bone sticking out. Her flesh was discolored and her body felt stiff. She looked and saw a wound at her breast. A blade had sliced cleaned through to her heart. That was when she remembered, "I died."

"Yes, you did." He replied, "And I brought you back. Your work is not yet done."

"No, I'm not done yet."

"Good. Now Deathdancer, I have targets for you. The Kirin Tor wizards will have to wait for the moment. First I need you to..." A wicked smile spread across her face as he described how she would eradicate the Assassin's Guild from Dalaran.

## Undeath

Devastation had been wrought upon the land. The Scourge war machine had torn the world to pieces, and the ensuing Legion crumbled the pieces to ashes. She had a part in this, leading to the destruction of her own home city of Dalaran. She had slain her former guild mates(many of them eventually fleeing), her Undeath making her more dangerous than ever. The dark magics which had risen her from death and bound her fleeting soul back into her body enhanced her talents and made her immune to the ailments and inconveniences of life. Her senses were dulled from what they once were, a vague distant feeling to something that might once have been exuberantly sharp. She did not see, smell, hear, touch or taste as she did before. She did not taste, yet she had an appetite for fresh meat, be it raw and wriggling or cooked and juicy. The warmth of such ingestions filling her belly with the only kind of feeling she could possibly possess. Her touch was certainly dulled, not entirely inhabiting her corpsely form. Still, she kept a bone tightening grip on any blade or throat, exhibiting an unnatural greater strength than she had in life. Sense of smell was most entirely gone, although on occasion she could smell only her own rotting flesh. Necromantic magic bolstered her hearing, enhancing her detection to that of a deadly feline predator, making her all the more potent assassin**—**all intended by her dark master. From where her human eyes once peered now shone eery light. These pools of gold were founts of magical energy. With them she could see and detect magic. A wizard who drew up incantations, she could see the arcane runes forming around as they drew the spell. Auras lit up around individuals who were spellcasters giving Lyndal an opportunity to see the nature of their sorcery. Magic also left detectable traces for her to see. Wisps of colored smoke left a trail of the magic's presence. This talent was crafted for her by the Scourge Necromancer who had risen her, so that she may wreck havoc on the Wizards of Dalaran and lower their defenses for the inevitable Scourge Invasion.

The main forces of the Scourge and Burning Legion left for Kalimdor. Lyndal being kept to the Eastern kingdoms by her masters bidding**—**believing her talents to be most useful there. The Alliance was brought to chaos and she was used to hunt fleeing wizards and citizens indiscriminately. This went on for some time, until everything changed.

## In Dreams...

Months had past since the Burning Legion arrived on Azeroth, and eventually a year had past since the Undead Plague had first begun to infect the citizens of Lordaeron. She wandered the countryside. Most of the resistance to the Scourge had fallen and humanity had been broken. Still, she was on orders to seek out the pockets of poor humans remaining and wipe them out.

Suddenly, she lost consciousness. She couldn't see anything... only *darkness*. Her spirit floated in a unending void. She felt a presence of Self, though she was neither perceiving nor was she being perceived. In the infinite abyss, she finally had a perception, as light shined brightly. It radiated out in all directions, eventually coalescing into a form of shimmering golden white light. Massive shoulders became visible, giving way to arms, torso, legs and head. Green was the skin**—**this was an orc! Piercing blue eyes peered out from his wise and noble looking gaze.

An echoing voice thundered, though it was not the orc speaking, instead if held a certain majesty to it more befitting to a human mage. "A terrible fate has befallen you. Though it isn't all for naught. What you do with your talents is up to you now, though I must warn you. Without a proper direction and guidance you will certainly lead way into madness and rot... Seek out the young Warchief Thrall..." The voice faded and so too did the vision of the orc and the light that emanated from him. Her consciousness spun as she fell through the endless void. She struck something and her perception moved through her spine like a jolt of electricity.

She had awareness again, intelligent awareness. Only this time it held out... unconfined. It took her a moment before she realized what that was. There was no other presence in her mind, nothing ordering her around or anything else she could feel. She was just there, alone in her own mind. She was quite confused, although very much aware of all that had transpired. She continued to wander the woods, any humans she encountered either fled her in horror or tried to end her existence. None were successful, and she eventually made her way into other Undead who were no longer agents of the Scourge. She met them on the border of the woods leading into Tirisfal Glades. They called themselves Forsaken and were led by this Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner. Though many of the Forsaken provided miserable companionship, she did feel a kinship with them. Some took it harder than others, but the truth was they were all forced into this existence, and now everybody felt entitled to put them back in the grave.

Lyndal spent a good deal of time with the Forsaken, running missions with the Death Stalkers and ensuring their continued existence. The apothecaries were able to provide her with remedy to her rotting corpse, preserving her body and the magic that kept her mind and soul imbued to her body. Her mind always drifted to the flare of light she had seen when the Lich King's control had left her. That impressing voice speaking to her of this greenskin orc. It really did seem like a dream, it couldn't be true, it was so far fetched. Perhaps it was just her rotting brain that caused such fantasies.

Eventually she had word. The Banshee Queen had struck up an alliance with the Orcish Horde who were based in Kalimdor. The name of their leader was said to be Warchief Thrall. Zeppelin towers were established in the Tirisfal Glades, a trade route and reinforcement line established between the Forsaken and the Horde. Lyndal took the first ship available to Orgrimmar. Her curiosity leading her to start a new adventure that would begin across the Great Sea.

## Outlook on Death

Lyndal sees her undeath as a first chance to live a life of her own choice. In life it seemed fate decided for her and there was no choices for her to make. She swept about in the turbulent waves that fate had spun for her. Now, she would carve out her own fate. She did not entirely expect to die in the first place, there were still things she felt she needed to do, her life could not end yet. She had always had a longing, a feeling that she craved to belong. After losing her family from a young age, becoming isolated and losing people all over again, she was seeking a place that felt at home—her family, her tribe.

This Horde, they were her tribe. She appreciated the bloodlust of the savage Orcs and Trolls. She also admired the strength and honor of the Horde races—notably including the Tauren. She knew humankind well, her time in the Assassin's Guild reminded her of how humans would murder anybody for coin. Without any regard to the morality of the issue. She had argued with her teacher often about the strength that they had—what they could do, how they could shape society and the world. He was strict and abrasive with her defiance in this matter, but this never quelled her spirit. He told her that she was foolish, and they could do no such thing. That it was best that they kept their heads down and did not draw too much attention in the world. That wasn't an option for her anymore. Her undeath made her an enemy to everyone. Foolish humans and their allies who thought themselves heroes would rally together to fight her and her kin. Scourge hammered away at their ranks, and all things living or otherwise were out to destroy her. And for what? Existing! She was dangerous though she would certainly give them that.

The Horde had strength though, and they would not hesitate to use it to safeguard their place in the world and make it a better place. By and large the Horde was not something which was bought over by coin. Your honor and reputation meant everything within the Horde, and life depended on the tribe, not just the individual. The good of all was considered, not just how one benefited in a transaction. She respected her Horde brothers and sisters, and they respected her too. They were just like her in that they were fighting for their place to survive in the world—when all else sought their destruction.

Growing into adulthood, Lyndal never had any person that she completely looked up to. It came down to a matter of trust, and she did not entirely trust the intentions of those around her. She knew the purity of her own intentions, but there was often a corruption in others that she disdained. The sickness for greed that populated the human mind and clouded her judgement.

It wasn't until she met the Warchief Thrall that she was fully able to give her trust in another again, and feel safe by his guidance. He had a soothing presence about him, one that invoked incredible strength and had tremendous power available to be called in an instant. Despite commanding this power, he had a gentle and peaceful repose. She felt welcomed in his regard, and she was not despised for what she was. She was able to put her head down and feel safety under him. Finally she felt a cause worth fighting for, ensuring the survival of these noble creatures.

She did have other motivations too, other than the camaraderie she was glad to be apart of, she continued to practice and perfect the dance of death. She felt alive in her dance, she could really feel breath, even though she didn't breath in the same way that she did in life. Often times she had a sensation of suffocating, not being able to breath. In the dance, she was in harmony with herself. She drove herself to improve her skill, feeling more attuned as she progressed. Her kills were apart of the art form, and as she consumed her corpses, the warm, bloody meat filled her up inside. The warmth of it within her made her feel alive too. A warmth that she did not feel anymore, her heart did not pump and her body did not produce heat. In this way she felt that heat, consumption of fresh flesh.

Must feed...