Guard Thomas and the Unpleasant Memer

Guard Thomas fell, stricken with an agony he had never felt before in his life. He was a proud man, tasked with guarding the bridge along the path between Goldshire and the Eastvale Logging Camp. During his time he had seen many of his friends fall in the eternal struggle against the creatures and criminals that plagued the great forest of Elwynn. Recently among those casualties had been the young, fresh faced recruits, Rolf and Malakai, who were tragically eaten by murlocs during their patrol of Stone Cairn Lake. The only consolation was that their remains were found by a scouting party of adventurers Thomas himself had tasked to find them. They would have a proper burial, but this only slightly softened the blow to the mothers of what were once strong young men. This had not been the first loss among the guards of Elwynn, and in fact it had been the norm for far too long to remember.

Many of his comrades in the Alliance army boasted of great battles against the brutal Horde, and teased Guard Thomas for what they considered to be a cushy position, free of the dangers they faced.

But now...

The figure had come, dressed in a dark robe of violet, with yellow trimmings and shades of blue seen across the cloth. His shoulders stuck out as spikes, a fact the guard noticed instantly. It gave the figure an atmosphere of savagery and deadliness. He was hooded, but there was no mistaking what this creature was... a vile undead creature of the Forsaken. The very same minions that claimed Lordaeron as their home in the aftermath of the Burning Legion's invasion of Azeroth. As the creature approached, Thomas noticed in horror that the foul beast's robes were shredded at the joints, and it's bones were clearly visible for all to see. This creature, this undead minion of the Horde, had an aura of power far beyond anything he could possibly hope to contend with.

Guard Thomas was more afraid than he had ever been in his career. He knew if he did not act soon, he would not survive this encounter. His mind turned to the young guards Rolf and Malakai once again. They had placed their faith in him, just as his commander above him, and even the people of Elwynn did. He would not fail them this day.

"H-Halt! State your business!", Guard Thomas yelled, still gathering his confidence.

The dark figure said nothing as it advanced towards him slowly. He thought he could see the rotting teeth of an undead smile underneath the hood. It must have been his mind playing tricks on him. In fact, all of this must be a trick, there is no way a minion of the Horde could have infiltrated so far into Elwy-

His thoughts were cut short by the sharpest and most real pain he had ever felt in his entire lifetime. He quickly looked up to see the undead creature lifting its arm up in some sort of dark curse. Agony wracked every inch of his body, as if he was on fire, yet he felt a coldness to it as well. His mind was going insane with sensory overload, he didn't even realize he was stumbling across the grass away from his torturer.

"St-stay away you wretched... beast... you will not... harm... the innocents... of...", his voice trailed off as he muttered his last words. His vision finally clear, but starting to fade to black, he realized he was on his knees. He looked at the small creek before him. It was a sight he had seen every day since accepting his post, but today it seemed unusually beautiful. Reality suddenly struck him. These were the last moments he would have to take in this sight. He felt like a child on the last day of vacation, sad that his freedom was at it's end. He could hold himself up no longer, he fell forward, the last thing he saw was the green Elwynn grass as his vision went black.

Blood Guard Tucker of the Horde walked up to the fallen man. Life was such a fleeting thing. Of course, to one such as him, life was meaningless. This man probably had a wife, children, friends, all of whom cared for him and would be deeply saddened by his loss. He had nothing. The undead plague had swept through his town, and though he put up a valiant fight, it was not long before he too was one of them. Separated from the life he once knew, it seemed logical to follow the Dark Lady in joining the Horde. It wasn't such a bad arrangement. They provided him with transport, lodgings, and humans to murder freely, and in return he served them.

He pulled the helmet off of the fresh corpse and looked at the man. He was a man of middle age, his scars betraying that he had seen much warfare in his time on Azeroth. His eyes were wide open, and they spoke of a death that was equal parts terror and contentment. This man had served his duty to his king with honor. The warlock would have found it admirable if he still cared for such things.

Now he only knew death.

Tucker pulled his hood down, exposing what could be considered a handsome face if it were not so decayed. He flipped the man over, holding him up in his arms, and looked around him warily for anyone watching. He did not want to risk a reputation for compassion after all. A set of rotten teeth emerged in a grin at the thought.

He respectfully ran his fingers over the man's eyes, closing them. He would rest easy unlike the others, as Tucker had spared his soul from being drained into shard form. He deserved that much at least. Tucker set the man back on the ground as three words faintly escaped his lips in the usual Forsaken growl,

"Requiescat in pace"

Tucker slowly rose, staring at his unfortunate adversary one last time before summoning his fiery dreadsteed from the shadows. A part of him was disgusted by his clinging to human ways. Tucker rode into the sunset, mulling over the events of the day in his head.