Lucky Krelle

The small Forsaken patrol moved through the abandoned village, systematically searching each house. They worked swiftly and silently with only the occasional sound of a door being forced to give away the location of individual soldiers in the darkness. Scourge forces were approaching the area and the soldiers had orders to search for any Risen who had not yet found their own way to the Undercity. The town had been a small one and the troops soon reassembled outside of the burnt remains of the inn.

The commanding Sergeant raised an inquiring eyebrow and each man or woman shook their head in a curt negative. Obviously, no fresh troops had been found. The Sergeant grunted, then eyed one of the recruits balefully. "What is it, 'Var?"

The big warrior who was known only as Ivar saluted. "There's a tannery in this town. It's down the road a bit, towards the forest."

"Fine. Check it. Hakk, go with him. Meet us at the rendezvous point."

Ivar looked up at the empty house. The tanner's home and workshop had been built a good distance from the town to keep the smell away, but now it was the town that reeked. Even Ivar's deadened senses could smell the rot among the houses. Here by the forest, however, the smell of death was muted. Ivar reflected briefly on the irony as Hakk came up beside him. Hakk had lost his lower jaw at some point during his death, so always spoke in the Gutterspeak of the Forsaken.

"Nothing in the tannery. You done here?"

"Yes," Ivar replied, closing the door out of habit. "Nothing in here. Just the shed left to check."

"Fine. Let's move it."

Ivar jogged over to the sturdy tool shed at the back of the yard, Hakk following more slowly with a watchful eye to the dark trees. As the warrior reached to lift the iron bar from the door he froze, listening. Hakk noticed and moved up silently.

Ivar looked at him, nodding towards the shed. Both men listened and exchanged a glance. Something was moving inside.

Hakk's cheek muscles tightened, exposing his canines in his version of a grin as he faded into invisibility. Ivar turned back to the door. Pushing away an irrational urge to knock politely, he grabbed the heavy iron bar and hauled it off its the two rusted hooks. There was a quick skittering sound inside, then silence. Ivar held the bar ready in one hand, reaching with the other to slowly open the door.

The shed was large and windowless. Ivar could see nothing inside, though a strong smell of rot and decay wafted out to him. He felt rather than saw Hakk glide by and waited quietly as the scout explored the shed. The soldiers had been assured that anyone who rose this close to the Undercity would be under the influence of Sylvanas, and therefore Forsaken, but it was always wise to be cautious.

Ivar waited tensely as the silence stretched out. A minute ticked by. "Hakk?" he called quietly. "See anything?"

Ivar jumped as Hakk faded back into view directly in front of him. The normally impatient expression had been replaced with one of disgust. "I've seen a lot, Var, but this is just sick. This is why I hate humans. You go in. I'd only scare her."

Ivar blinked. "What? What's in there?"

"A girl, obviously. Go in and get her."

Ivar looked at his partner uneasily, but dropped the heavy iron bar and turned back towards the dark shed. Tentatively, he stepped inside. His foot crunched loudly on something small and brittle, and there was a brief shuffle at the back corner of the room. He paused in the doorway, and called out in Common. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"No, Master," a quiet voice answered. It sounded young and very timid.

Ivar turned to Hakk, speaking loudly in Gutterspeak. "What the hell -"

He was interrupted by a shuffling and the clink of chains from inside. The voice spoke again, this time also in Gutterspeak. "Are you from the Lady?" it asked eagerly. Ivar thought it sounded like a girl. "Did She send you? I've heard Her voice - I could not come. Are you here for me?"

Hakk shoved Ivar roughly into the shed. "Go get her, idiot."

Ivar flashed a rude gesture to Hakk and turned back to the voice. His feet crushed old, brittle rushes that covered the ground as he slowly moved through the pitch dark. His outstretched hands hit a rough board and he felt his way along the back wall towards the girl. "Why couldn't you come?" he asked in Gutterspeak, more to find out where she was than anything else.

The voice that answered was very close. "I could not break the chains. I hope you are stronger than I am."

Ivar paused. "You're chained to the shed? But - oh never mind. Hang on, I'll get us some light - see what we're dealin' with…"

Ivar preferred his twin daggers for stealthy, quick work, but he also believed a true warrior was prepared for any foe. Including large ones. Reaching over his shoulder he unslung his broadsword, holding it to one side as he spoke the command word. Low, red flames snaked up along the blade, illuminating the room with a warm glow. His eyes widened as he saw the girl. "By the Light," he cursed softly.

"Told you!" called Hakk from the door.

She had backed into the corner and was crouching fearfully. The girl looked to be about fourteen, and she was naked and filthy. The plague must have taken her while she was still alive - her bare skin was unmarred by the rot of the long-dead. A stout chain wound from around a beam in the ceiling, down the wall and across the floor, its end padlocked in a tight loop around her neck. The skin there was ragged and raw, obviously recent wounds. Ivar stared at the girl, who was staring back at him, her mouth open in shock. He stood stupidly, not sure what to say. She could have been pretty, he thought for a brief, irrational moment, if only she had eyes.

"I- I can see you!" she stuttered, clearly stunned. Ivar looked down at his feet awkwardly as she stood, the wonder and awe clear in her voice. "This is a gift from the Lady."

Ivar glanced up and was again shocked. The girl who stood before him, marvelling at the sight of her own hands, was badly scarred. Her chest was flat and covered with healed-over burns - deliberate ones, given over many years by the look of it - and old welts marred her thighs and back. Her eyelids, edged in delicate brown eyelashes, covered nothing but vacant holes. It struck Ivar that her eyes must have been gouged out very long ago to have healed over so completely.

Ivar had only recently awoken as a Forsaken. He and his family had been visiting friends in Lordaeron when Prince Arthas had returned and his last living memories were of fighting the invading scourge. Ivar had been a noble warrior in life - and a doting father. His daughter, had she lived, would have been about as old as the girl in the shed. His gauntlets creaked as he clenched his fists. He wished very dearly that the tanner was still alive.

"Hakk!" he called loudly. "Come in here and unlock this thing."

The girl looked up from her hands with a dazed expression. "I can see you," she said softly, and giggled. She stepped towards him and he was struck by how small and delicate she was. Ivar was a tall man, and the girl's head barely reached his shoulder. She reached up, brushing her fingers along his jaw, staring at him with blank, empty sockets. He fought the urge to back away. The girl started poking him in the face, her laughter a bit hysterical.

"All right, enough of that." He reached up and gently took her hand in his fist. "Hold still while Hakk undoes this chain, ok? We'll get you out of here."

"Where are we going? Will you take me to Her? The Lady is calling me…"

"Yeah, She'll do that," Hakk muttered, coming up behind Ivar. The girl took one look at him and yelped, pulling her hand away from Ivar and stepping back to the corner. Ivar blinked in surprise as she faded from view.

"What the-"

Hakk clicked his tongue at her. "Had practise avoiding attention, have you? Hold still girl, we're not taking the whole barn here with us."

The girl appeared, shivering, as Hakk smoothly grasped the chain around her neck.

"If you're clever with those hands, I'll show you how to open these yourself, eh? Won't get tied up again, will we now?" he muttered quietly as he worked on the lock. "Clever little girl like you, should pick this up quickly eh? Won't the Lady be proud, hmm?" He clicked his tongue again as the lock sprung open and let the chain slide to the ground.

The girl stared at it. Her hands flew to her neck and she shrieked in a sudden panic and bolted for the door, shouldering it out of the way. Ivar cursed and ran after her, but she only took a few steps into the yard before shuddering to a halt, staring wildly around her like a cornered animal. Ivar stopped in the doorway and sheathed his sword, then slowly approached with his arms spread and his palms out.

"Calm down, hon. We'll go together, ok? But we have to be quiet. The forest isn't friendly."

She wasn't hearing him. Her head darted from side to side as she staggered away from Ivar, her mouth agape. She turned and ran towards the tanner's house. He followed her closely as she sprinted up the steps to the front door. She climbed the stairs two at a time and raced to the back of the house to a door Ivar had had to break open. He had been surprised that the door to an old storage room would be locked. She eagerly pushed it open and stepped into the room, then paused. Her back was to him as she stood in the middle of the dusty room, but he could see her shoulders shaking. He stayed in the hallway warily, waiting to catch her if she ran back out. He hadn't lied when he said it was dangerous outside. His hands went to his daggers as he eyed the empty rooms around him, but nothing else moved in the house.

A strange shuddering gasp brought his attention back to the girl. Her hands covered her mouth and she rocked back and forth where she stood, gasping in air and panting. Was she crying? Ivar shifted his weight uneasily, wishing Christine were there. He felt awkward and useless around crying girls.

"Um. Are you ok?"

She started sobbing. Slowly sinking to her knees, fists clenched in her matted hair, she tilted back her head and let out a wail of despair. She rocked hysterically, the wordless scream of agony and loss echoing through the house.

It cut off suddenly with a dull smack and she crumpled to the floor. Hakk appeared, grimly standing over her, a sap in one hand. He looked up at his partner. Ivar stared back and shrugged, baffled. Hakk looked at him, then down at the girl. She was curled in a ball on the floor, her eyes closed, almost as though she were sleeping.

Hakk sighed. "She's completely insane, Var."

"Uh - apparently," Ivar agreed numbly. He frowned, feeling the need to defend her. "Wouldn't you be, though? I mean, look at the poor thing."

Hakk grunted noncommittally. "We'll take her to the Lady. She'll figure it out."

Ivar nodded in relief. He undid his cape, wrapping it protectively around the girl, and picked her up carefully. The warrior held the small girl easily, cradling her in his arms. He turned and slowly descended the stairs.

"She's not Ellen, Var," Hakk called down, almost gently.

Ivar paused as he reached the open doorway, looking down at the unconscious girl in his arms. Wordlessly, he stepped out into the yard.

Hakk took a last look around the storage room. The faded blue walls were lined with stacked up junk - an old dresser, a broken ladder, shelves with bits of wire and rags. Old furniture was piled at the back, covered in burlap to keep off the dust. Curious, he sliced through the mouldered covering to reveal an old sitting chair, a clothing trunk, and a child's bed. The small green clovers stencilled onto the headboard matched the ones curling around the trim at the top of the walls.

Hakk shook his head. "What a waste... "

A flicker of light through the window caught his eye. He cursed and ran down the stairs.

Ivar was holding the girl in one arm and his blazing sword in the other, slowly and deliberately walking around the tool shed, lighting its walls on fire.

She slept all the way to the Banshee Queen's war room. As always, the large underground lair was bustling with scouts reporting in, orders going out, and all the trappings of an army on the move. The large room was crammed full of bookshelves and tables, maps and reports covering every surface.

They were told to wait in one of the adjacent sitting rooms until the Lady could make time to see them. Ivar laid the girl on an old couch, standing beside her warily. Hakk perched on a stool by the wall and they waited in silence.

Sooner than Ivar had expected, one of the black-clad guards entered, followed by Sylvanas herself. Ivar and Hakk bowed low as she nodded to each of them.

She glided over to the couch and looked down at the sleeping girl wrapped in the red wool cloak. Her elven features were unreadable as she knelt, pressing the tips of two fingers to the girl's temple. She frowned almost immediately and stood, eyeing the two men.

"Your assessment was correct, Scout Hakk," she said in a surprisingly soft voice. "She was driven mad years ago. Her mind is broken and useless to us."

Hakk nodded curtly. "Yes, Lady. I'll take her out back, shall I?"

Ivar opened his mouth but Sylvanas raised a hand to forestall his objections. "There may be an alternative," she said in the same quiet voice, her eyes looking at the girl speculatively.

"Can you fix her, Lady?" Ivar asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Her lips twitched into the hint of a smile at him. "No, Ivar. You cannot fix something that was never whole. As she is now, the girl is incurably mad. But. If we were to reverse the damage, and bring her back to a stage where she would be salvageable…" she trailed off, touching a fingertip to her blue lips. "If there was enough time to go back to… Well. We shall see. It shall be an interesting experiment, whether it works or not."

She stood beside the couch for several minutes, lost in thought as she contemplated the girl. Ivar shifted his weight uncomfortably, unsure of what was happening. He glanced at Hakk, who was staring at their queen intently.

She nodded to herself. "Wait outside," she ordered, kneeling again beside the couch. Hakk slid from his stool and stalked outside. Ivar followed, looking back over his shoulder as the guard held the door. The Dark Lady was staring intently at the girl on the couch, an eerie light in her eyes. The door closed.

Ivar and Hakk waited in the dimly lit hallway for the better part of an hour. Hakk was moody, snapping at Ivar's attempts at conversation, so the warrior fell into silence. He let his mind play over bittersweet memories of times before the dark war, before the plague destroyed his family and home. It was not that long ago that the streets above them were alive with merchants and townsmen, proud inhabitants of the capital city. Now the old gates were barred and the empty city abandoned. The Forsaken, as they called themselves, preferred the safety - and secrecy - that the underground tunnel system afforded them.

Ivar's thoughts were pulled back to the present as the door opened. He and Hakk bowed again to the Lady as she stepped through, looking as calm and collected as ever. She eyed them both as she spoke.

"She remembers nothing, now, of her life as a human," the undead elf said quietly. "She is as a young child and will need to be looked after for a time. She will also require training. The two of you, I'm sure, can handle this."

Hakk frowned, his milky eyes troubled. "Lady?"

"Yes, Hakk?"

"Is it possible to erase memories, then?"

Sylvanas sighed, answering his unasked question first. "No, Hakk. I can erase the effects of time and experience, in a clumsy, limited way - but when time is lost, so are the skills and the knowledge that were learned as it passed. Knowledge is power, Hakk. And I need my soldiers to be powerful."

"Of course, Lady," he replied with a bow. "Just asking."

She sighed then, passing a weary hand across her eyes. "We all have things we would rather forget. Use the experience to harden you, instead. We have work to do." She moved past them towards the war-room but paused and spoke again, almost in afterthought. "You're not the only one who would be interested in such a procedure, Hakk. Neither of you are ever to speak of it." The last was delivered in a deadly tone of command, and both men saluted automatically as she left with her guard.

Ivar let out a breath of relief as the door at the far end of the corridor shut behind them. He looked to Hakk, but his partner was scowling at the closed door in frustration. Ivar shrugged, unable to comment on the procedure after such a clear command, and returned eagerly to the sitting room. The girl was perched on the couch, wrapped in his wool cloak, looking about her with obvious curiosity. She looked at him and smiled fearlessly.

"Are you Ivar?" she asked in Gutterspeak.

"Yes. How are you feeling?" he asked, crouching easily before her. He peered at her face but saw no trace of the hysteria she had displayed earlier. Her eyeless gaze, however, still unsettled him.

"I'm ok! A bit dizzy, but the Lady said it would go away soon. She was so nice! She said you were to take care of me, that you found me. Thank you for finding me! I don't even remember nothing at all... Who's Hakk? She said Hakk would train me. Do you think I could be a great scout like him? She said he was a very useful scout, that I could help Her too if I worked hard. Can we go home now? My clothes are all missing, She said they were dirty and you'd get me new ones. I don't feel cold I don't see why I need clothes at all, really, but the Lady looked so pretty in her dress maybe I could get a - ohh, you must be Hakk! You're jaw is missing. Did that hurt?"

Ivar turned to the doorway, grinning broadly. Hakk was staring at the girl incredulously. Ivar waggled his eyebrows at Hakk, obviously impressed.

Hakk looked from him to the girl and shook his head ruefully, then squared his shoulders. "Yes, I'm Hakk. Your first lesson will be how to be quiet, I think."

"Oh, I bet I'd be good at it," she replied enthusiastically, hopping up from the couch. "I'm happy to meet you Hakk! I... Uh. I can't remember my name! Oh." She turned to Ivar, smiling up at him with a look of absolute trust. "What's my name?"

Ivar gaped at her and looked to Hakk for help. Hakk just grinned his half-grin at him.

"Yeah, Ivar, what's her name?"

Ivar scowled briefly at his friend, but when he looked back to the girl an answer popped into his head.

"I don't honestly know what your name was when you were alive, dear. But I'll tell you what. Most of us Forsaken take new names anyway. For example, did you know that Hakk's real name -"

"Hey!"

" - was Huebert? Huebert Softcotton, actually. His father was a tailor,'" Ivar grinned, carefully not looking at the indignant Hakk. "I stuck with Ivar cause I'm a simple man. But since you don't know what you'd take as a name, would you like me to give you one?"

She nodded eagerly, biting her bottom lip as she stared up at him. The tall warrior smiled gently, resting a big hand on her head.

"I think that Krelle would suit you very well."

"Oooh. Krelle is a pretty name."

"Krelle, eh? Christine and Ellen would have approved," Hakk said a bit sarcastically. "If you ask me she should be called Lucky."

"No way," Ivar disagreed. "Lucky is a dog's name."

"But she is!"

"I am?"

Hakk approached the girl and spoke very seriously to her. "You, miss, are the luckiest Forsaken to ever walk this cursed earth. You'd do well to remember it." He paused, as though about to say more, but turned instead and stalked out of the room, muttering oaths under his breath. They heard the far door open and Hakk call out "We've got a long way to go with this one, Var!" before slamming it behind him.

Krelle blinked. She looked to Ivar.

He patted her gently on the shoulder. "Don't worry about Hakk. He's just… uh… busy. We'll go ask him about training you tomorrow. First we have to get you some clothes. And a mask, I think."

"A mask? The Lady didn't say anything about a mask."

"Oh, all the best scouts wear masks. Trust me."

"Ok Ivar. Whatever you say!"

Ivar smiled. He put a large protective arm around her shoulders and started towards the door, already explaining about the war that brought them all here, and the Undercity, which was their new home.