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Forsaken At Heart

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A/N: Pulled a lot from real life on this… which is unfortunate lol. Been going thru dark stuff lately, so I put it into words.


NOTE ON TIMELINE: This takes place early on in Legion!!!


This was written after reading the WoW book Before the Storm. It really gave perspective on characters. If you haven’t read it, give it a read!! (maybe after this!) it takes place before anything in the book, it is semi-non-canon, but atm reading it you could so see it having taken place given reactions you read in the book. For fun I will add a snippet at the end of Ch 2 for those who haven’t had the pleasure.



Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft or any of the WoW characters, story, world, or stuff within I and I make no money from this. OCs are mine.





“...There is no meaning in death. That’s why it’s so terrifying.” Henry Winkler -Bojack Horseman




Atalia Darkridge picked her way carefully through the desolate landscape of Stormheim. She had a large satchell already bursting with herbs, but the sun was still not yet set, and she decided she could manage to fit a few more inside the bag. She paused atop a large rock to scour the landscape with her eyes and put her hands onto her lower back. One thing that she was grateful for about the curse of Undeath was that it had stopped her from sweating ever again, but her back ached a bit as she stood very straight, rubbing the small of it, through her cloak. She must have been hunching over without realizing it… which she had realized and then only hunched back down to pick plants. And then realized that she was hunching and stopped it again, or so she had thought. The dull ache in her back suggested otherwise... Her clothes were all concealed by her plain gray cloak, except her black leather gloves, because her arms were poking through her cloak. Underneath she had a thin gray cotton shirt with a bra-like armor chest-piece of dark blue trimmed in gold over it. She wore pants that were also dark blue with a black and gold belt and her bejeweled spell knife on it of blue metal and gold on the hilt. She had armor on her knees partly to protect, partly to simply protect herself from herself if she were to merely fall on the terrain, and they were of a plain gray metal lined with gold. Normally she didn’t wear her armor out, but out in Stormheim there were many dangerous creatures, so she had to be prepared.


While she rubbed her back, her unusual glowing green eyes scanned her surroundings and she grinned as she spotted some more Fjarnskaggl and beside it some Felwort . She took out her herb knife and hopped down the hillside in the shadows of a large cliff. Deftly she bent and cut the two plants at their bases of their stems and stuffed them with the other plants into the bag hanging off her shoulder, before standing upright again with a sigh. She replaced the knife into a little hoop on the satchel and then ran a hand through her curly dark red hair.


Unlike most Forsaken, Atalia’s hair was relatively… well soft and untangled, considerably undamaged, and clean. She was actually able to brush or comb it. Her pale skin was closer to very light blue than most other of her kinds grays or greens and it was also more intact than most others of her kind, as she was not missing pieces of her body, chunks, or even small spots of flesh. Upon death her body had been had been preserved. It had also made it easier for the Forsaken’s liquid’s to be added, giving her her new palor.Other Forsaken had to be more careful that their skin might tear, but hers was actually supple and had give to it, much like many of the ranger’s or Death Guard. It was something that she was grateful for. It had been terrifying when she had seen a man tear a finger off his hand only a day after she had been Reborn. Later it was explained to her that she would probably have a little more endurance with things because of her body’s aftercare… despite that she had been dead for some time.


She hadn’t understood why many so around simply didn’t simply just wash their hair of the matted blood, dirt, and ichor, and try to brush out the knots… But she supposed that if some tried to comb out knots their skin was so delicate it could actually tear chunks out of their scalps. It didn’t excuse why they couldn’t wash their hair, though… But the deep depression about the state of their body they had come to accept…. Surrounded by rotting bodies that weren’t just that, but people who were choosing to be dirty and sad… Not to mention the Forsaken who had become cruel and hateful upon their Rebirth. And in Undercity the water itself was completely polluted and filthy… so where would one get fresh water to clean off anyway? The entire place smelled terrible, too, literally of sewage, often, despite the lack of Forsaken using toilet often any longer… So Atalia could not stand it... She had to leave… so she did and began to travel to find places that she would be accepted in her new world… And she found that one place was actually a place she’d wanted to go to for a long time, and one she’d lived at before, Dalaran. Her favorite place that she ever had, she went to live...


Occasionally she forrayed away from it… she had lived 16 years as a human and now just over 3 in this new life. Emerald eyes studied the landscape for more plants as she rubbed her back. The sun was lower, but her bag was full, perhaps she should head back to her encampment now… she considered. Then she saw it, a shadowy shape near the cliff’s bottom, behind some rocks: and so she headed off towards it. Deftly she dodged jagged rocks as she reached it and saw what it was… It was… furry… with dark clothes.


Something with white fur and dark clothes, she realized quickly that it was a large male Worgen. There had been a few in the area, but she hadn’t expected to find one dead… The clothes were dark brown, trimmed in silver, but she could make out the blood still. Is he dead? She wondered, sighed, and then carefully, bravely , leaned over the beast and rolled him over onto his back.


Then she could see it; his chest was indeed still rising up and down, slightly . His dark coat had was missing an arm and it had white in the middle that was clearly stained red with a lot of blood there... She felt relief that he was still alive. He’d lost a lot more blood than she thought at first glance. Despite that he was supposedly her enemy, the silly faction disputes felt very far removed in Dalaran, Atalia felt an urge to help him… Besides, she had lived most of her life as a citizen of Alliance lands while alive. What to do with him to actually help though was difficult...


“Oh… I should get you to my camp so I can help…” It seemed the best idea for the moment. True, as a mage she could open portals, but she only knew a handful of portals that lead to places that were non-aligned to factions. If she were to show up to such a place with a gravely injured Worgen Atalia had concerns that guards might think the wrong thing, too… She decided it best perhaps to tend to his wounds at her camp physically with what she had on hand before taking him anywhere, that would be the wisest course.


Her hearthstones had been stupidly left behind in Dalaran, she had hiked the entire way here from a flight point, because she loved the scenery. The idea was that she needed a break from her studies and the hiking and gathering herbs for a couple days would be just the thing. Having a hearthstone would have been a temptation to rush back to life in the city. In retrospect it hadn’t been the wisest move, but she had needed the space for equipment and for her herbs…


Atalia grit her teeth before moving so she was near the head of the lupine man and then turned her back to him and squatted. She then tried to get her arms underneath his and raise his body off the ground slightly, so she could drag him.. She just barely managed to do so, only about four feet of him supported on her, the rest dragged on the ground. He was somewhat on her back, but at an absurd angle. If anyone would come upon it, it looked silly. Worgen were just too large...  Fortunately her concern for the man that she was...hauling let her manage the physical struggle with dragging him back to her campsite. Atalia still bit out several curses about his size along the way though, wishing that he could have been a couple feet shorter and perhaps several pounds lighter, too.


Once they arrived she let him down on her bedroll inside her low tent and she then went to the second largest bag that she had. Inside were some potions and bandages, the bandages more for others aid than her, and she smiled. She had packed a single roll of each, just in case , after all they didn’t take up much room. Atalia usually brought such things with her whenever she went out on trips lasting longer than a few hours. She began to dig the tools of her minor healing trade out, pulling out rolls of bandages, water, and a healing potion. The netherweave and cotton and water in her left hand and a strong healing potion in her right she then took the herb dagger under an arm, to cut the bandages to size, before turning around and scooting over to the patient.


He was soundly out, but still breathing lightly. A bluish blush crossed her face as she studied his face and found it somewhat handsome despite it being in Worgen form, it was rugged and masculine, and she just liked how he looked with the hair falling softly to the side as he lie there… Now that she studied him, she realized that on his head the fur and hair was actually a very light gray nearing the top of his head, and even darker in other areas, adding a gradient and depth that was actually something she’d found really beautiful and cool. The Worgen’s longer hair that hung down past either side of his jaw was contained in four neat braids in total with big intricately designed metal rings near the ends that bound them. He had hooped silver earrings pierced near the base of his left ear and another loop in the middle on both ears… A thick metal ring was snugly fit around his top left fang, which was protruding and extremely large and sharp… Even the two smaller fangs from his bottom jaw were visible and their length and sharpness were intimidating. His chest broad chest rose and fell a couple more times and she realized that the brown coat he wore was very well-fitted, meaning that the size she was gazing down at was pure muscle. Along with the sharp claws on each of his four fingers on his brown-gloved hands, she realized that this Worgen didn’t need a weapon to kill if he were well and healthy.


Quickly she tore off her own fingerless leather gloves, so she could better deal with her patient. Biting her blue lip nervously, Atalia began to undress the man by taking off his soft leather gloves. There was a bit of dried blood on them, she couldn’t guess if it was his or not as it was on them, but beneath them his hands were unharmed so she guessed it might not be his… His claws and white fingers had blood on them, so perhaps it belonged to one of the people or things who had done this to him. She carefully undid the belt that was strung across his coat next. With that done, she loosened his pauldrons, which were loose and more like part of his cloak, and she then let his pauldrons and cloak fall back onto the bedroll.


Atalia then began to work on unbuttoning his coat, her hands working the silver buttons carefully and her brows knitted together in concern. The blood was mostly visible where her hands were now passing, as the white was in the center of his coat, and once it finally came open she found a formal white shirt underneath stained with even more blood, a lot more of it. She also could see some of the main wounds through the it...There were several. She gasped. How had he managed to still be breathing? Carefully and slowly she sat him into an upright position so she could remove his coat and as she began to pull it off of him he slumped forward slightly into her, his face nearing her chest which made her blush furiously. The Forsaken tossed his dark brown coat to her left and then took a deep breath before setting the man on his back again. She carefully began to unbutton his shirt, a few of the buttons slipping from her fingers from blood, and she frowned. Atalia then sat him back upright again to remove his shirt and to examine his abdomen for wounds. This time she blushed without his face nearing her chest simply because his shirt came off...


She’d seen men topless while they were physically training, sure, and before while attending to  wounds, but never alone before like this. Her face was somewhat flushed by the time she managed to get his shirt off and have him lying back down. She cautiously waved her hand in front of his face to see that he was still asleep. Atalia began to visibly examine him again now that his shirt was off and tried to shake off that vague attraction to the wounded man who was now shirtless, too.


Now that he was without a top she could see his white fur was stained with red blood on the left area of his chest, his right shoulder, and his left ribs had a particularly long gash… She could guess that one wound was an arrow perhaps, another a dagger, but others she was unsure. On his side perhaps a poison? She cut several strips of cotton before she did anything else. Atalia grabbed the water and poured it over the gash first and then went over each other area. Rinsing and then wiping with dry cotton, soon his fur was mostly clean except immediately around the site of the wounds. She then took out the potion that she had and carefully applied it to the cotton and put it onto the gash. Normally a person would react, but the man was still and silent. Atalia frowned and continued to apply the potion to other sites….


Soon potion was in all the wounds she could see and she began to cut the netherweave to size so she could put it directly on the wounds. Once she pressed the netherweave down into the wounds, Atalia had to get him into a slumped sitting position again and had him awkwardly leaning forward a bit against her. She then wrapped cotton over the netherweave, going around his torso, letting the cotton bandages hold the magical bandages in place. Eventually she finished wrapping bandages around him and laid him back down, leaving the wound on his shoulder, which she could handle with him on his back, last. Again she put the cotton over the netherweave she had placed, and wrapped it around his shoulder and under his powerful, muscular arm… Then she finally sat up straight and moved away from him a bit and she sighed  while stretching. She had been applying care for at least a couple hours by this point. Cleaning his wounds to finally wrapping them had taken a lot of time. When she finally turned around to go and make a fire it was apparent that darkness had truly fallen. The young woman had failed to notice that the man’s eyes had actually opened as she turned her back on him.


He had awoken a while ago… He was aware first of all that he was alive. The severe pain in his shoulder and, well, all over was a good indication of that. The Worgen was a careful man, strategic; that was how he was still alive at his age. He kept his eyes closed at first, as he had immediately felt someone pressing something into his wounds, he tried to breathe easy and feign sleep. Someone was tending to them and he figured that it would be best to observe for a while before doing anything rash. He smelled the air, and what he smelled caused a cold knot to form in the pit of his stomach. The scent of roses and some sort of sweet herb was in the air, and female… but it was the undertones that bothered him; the faint scent of death and ichor hung in the air, which meant Forsaken… As he felt the woman move away he waited a moment before cracking an eye slightly open.


Long curly dark red hair curtained the woman’s shoulders, hiding her face from view and shielding any possible skin on her face down to just past her elbow from being seen… The dark crimson locks looked silky to the touch, not anything like usual undead hair. Then he noticed her bare hand peeking from the sleeve of her gray shirt and saw the eerie pale skin... she really was undead


A reanimated corpse was helping him. Why is she doing this? Thoughts ran through his head. Along with a slight disgust that such an abomination to the Light and all that was Holy had been touching him... Perhaps she had saved him to bring him back to Undercity once he was stable? He could try to wait for a good moment to attack her and then attempt to get away… He wouldn’t let himself be held captive! But, he was a careful man, and still quite injured, so he waited as the potion that stung his injuries was taking its effect and he pretended to be asleep while she continued to … it seemed to possibly start a fire?


Atalia set some wood ablaze with a spell and then put some water into a kettle over it. Unlike most Forsaken, she enjoyed some things such as drinking tea, partially due to her personality and also in part to an elixir that helped her imbibe edible substances on a regular basis. She figured that the man might find comfort in the warmth of fire and tea besides she, herself, finding comfort in the familiarity of them. The fire was just outside the tent and once she got it started she smiled and glanced back to her assumed sleeping patient. He seemed to be alright so she carefully and mindfully crawled back to him, her tent being so low that she couldn’t stand upright in it. The girl regarded the sleeping wolf-man’s form cautiously for a moment, studying his bandages on his torso and she smiled that he seemed to be sleeping a bit more restfully now. Carefully she looked down to his pants and began to examine his legs; looking for wounds through his dark colored clothes and softly pressing into the flesh with her nimble fingers. Soon she found a gouge that was deep and a few inches long on the right thigh. Knowing that if he’d sustained injuries to his legs she’d have to treat them raised the question of how exactly she’d have to get to the wounds… either to remove his pants or tear the pants open. The gouge’s length was large enough that she’d have to remove a large section of cloth, rendering the pants useless if she were to truly get at the wound properly… It’d be best to remove the pants to access that wound and to look for any other wounds that might be hiding underneath she decided.


Shyly she waved her hand in front of his face a few times. His breathing seemed easier, yes, but he did seem well asleep still. The wound on his leg was still not clotted and was leaking a lot of blood so she decided to pull down his pants ONLY if he had underclothes… otherwise she’d rip into them and she could sew them up later if need be. The question of underclothing only came into her mind she realized because she had no idea if Worgen needed them, but she blushed slightly and realized that the man before her might have enchanted clothing that had sized upwards with his transformation, and she’d been rather silly… She’d run across some Orcs who simply wore loincloth-like items and that idea was bothersome to her, not proper at all! Not that her removing a strange man’s pants was proper in the first place... She realized that her thoughts were running away in her head as her hands were undoing his belt and she tried reach a finger just under the waistline of his pants. To her immense relief she felt a softer cotton material under his pants indicating he did have something underneath…


“Thank the Light you’re wearing underclothes…” she whispered, to the Worgen she thought unconscious.


A deeper flush grew in her face as she tugged down on his pants and they did not come down. His belt already undone, she sighed and nervously moved her hands to unbutton his pants as quickly as she could and try not to unbutton more than she needed. She managed to undo three before she realized there was a rise below those buttons nearing his groin and she jerked her hands away nervously, not wanting to touch, or even get anywhere near touching anywhere near inappropriate on the Worgen let alone a man. She was breathing heavily and staring down at him for a moment before she managed to work the nerve to finally tug down his pants so she’d be able to begin to treat the wound on his thigh...


When her long and oddly soft fingers began to probe from his waist down his legs he bit back a groan. He was sore and in pain, but he also didn’t want this rotting corpse touching him… especially anywhere below his belt. As if reading his mind the girl seemed to professionally go down his left leg and find relatively minor injuries. Then she went to his other leg and he tried force himself to relax as she neared his wound there… When she found it he had to grind his teeth slightly and pray that she didn’t notice... Then she began to go for his belt and he frowned inwardly… She meant to take his pants off!


As her finger touched him gingerly under his belt-line, rubbing his fur and skin, he tried to remind himself that it was a puppet of flesh touching him like this… But the way she smelled, the death was barely an afterthought on the other scents competing… Why on Azeroth is it touching me like this?! If it’s curious about Worgen anatomy it could just pull down my pants already! Light! Is it toying with me? He wondered in confusion what it was doing and why. When it finally spoke he realized that it perhaps meant to actually remove his pants to treat his wounds and… he smirked inwardly, the undead monstrosity actually did have feelings, it was shy. When its fingers worked the buttons of his pants and then jerked away as if burned as it realized that the anatomy of a man differed to that of a woman’s he had to bite back a chuckle. As much as he disliked the idea of being further disrobed in front of this creature, he somewhat liked the idea that it.. That she would likely be more uncomfortable.


He supposed that the girl truly thought him unconscious as she struggled to gently pull his pants down to around his knees. He bit back a growl of anger, though he could smell her intense anxiety and he did derive pleasure from it. The wound did need addressing… and the other option was tearing into the pants, but he did not want this thing helping him.


She had been beginning to tug his pants down and then she blushed deeply again, that green-blue. She’d never seen a man without pants before as an adult, but he needed help. Underneath he wore something like white shorts she had seen on some leather armor styles and something akin to swim-wear, so she relaxed a bit. Soon she had access to the leg wound and she took out the cotton and water to clean it. Then she applied potion. Then she turned away a moment to grab the knife so she could cut the netherweave.


He was paying acute attention and heard and felt her turn, his eyes came open and he watched as she turned and he saw the knife in her hand. He was helpless before her. This Undead girl… he pounced with a growl. He had failed to even notice the bandages, years of battle his eyes only honed in on the knife.


Atalia found herself pinned to the floor suddenly looking up into the fierce eyes of her patient. They were a lovely blue color... One of his hands was holding her right wrist, the one with the knife, above her head, and firmly down, the other of his had her other arm pinned at the side, but it was so near her body, her breast was touching his large hand.. His legs were pressed between hers but he was struggling, trying to get the pants off, his legs twisted in them.


Perhaps I should have just cut a hole into them to treated the wound , she thought bitterly as his pants finally came off and he thankfully put a leg on either side of her instead of between her legs.


A long silence passed before she finally said, “You can pin me, but… please, take my other wrist or something…?” A deep blush was across her face by this point. He was only in his underclothes after all and had her pinned beneath him and his hand was pressing against her breast...


The Worgen noticed this and glanced down, noticing that his hand was in contact with her breast and smiled slightly. “I didn’t realize the dead could blush,” he chuckled. But he complied, moving his hand away from her body slightly, letting her breast fall slightly. As he looked down her body he realized that her chest was nearly obnoxiously large for her small frame. Her gray cloak had fallen open, revealing her clothing and her shapely body beneath it, which was the main reason Atalia wore a cloak.


The comment stung a bit, but Atalia merely took it in stride, “Some of us still have fluids in our bodies.” She smiled up at the man who was above her.


He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her phrasing. He knew what she meant, but given her position he wondered if perhaps she meant more, so he asked, “And what all fluids would that include…?” The Worgen smirked wickedly at the end of his question.


Atalia hadn’t even realized that her comment could have been taken wrongly and blushed deeply once more. She felt a need to answer though, it was only fair for people to know about Forsaken after all, so she answered in a knowledgeable tone, “Well, all kinds. Saliva, gastric acids in the stomach, ichor in the veins instead of blood, and, uh…” Then she blushed again. Sex crossed her mind and she was suddenly aware that there were other mucosal fluids and such that existed.


Her involuntary facial reaction wasn’t lost on the man and he grinned. The girl beneath him looked very young… Younger than his daughter for sure and perhaps even the age of his son when… Perhaps instead of just physically attacking her he could..? No! The idea was repulsive! Lying with a creature whose joke of a body was rotting and only held together with ichor and magic? Disgusting… but it seemed like she was so naive and perhaps inexperienced. He glanced down over her body a moment, making her blush deepen and she frowned at him. Perhaps she was inexperienced. If she were, maybe he could break her. The idea had been proposed among fellow comrade Worgen before, speaking of revenge, the only concern was finding a Forsaken that would be breakable and also not such a shambling sack of rot and bones that the act could be gone through with... Sylvanas held all undead as her children so if he did so… But, she looked younger than his children! Even if she came willingly the idea of her age alone made his stomach twist…


She could be much older than she appears , he thought. Studying her face. It reminded him of Sylvanas’s rangers in some ways, it was somewhat plump and round with round lips that looked soft and moist despite being a dark blue. Her skin was a pale bluish white, but it looked very soft, her face surrounded by dark red curls that shone in the firelight. Her eyes glowed a sea-green, unlike any undead he had ever seen, and they studied him without fear, but he could smell the nervousness on her. If she had been alive he would have called her beautiful… A bit short maybe, her chest too large for her height, but she could have lost an inch or so in death, despite the plumpness of her skin, her body seemed capable of athleticism, something that as a warrior he could appreciate.


“Why do you keep looking at my body when you already have me pinned?” She asked nervously, her voice quivering slightly. “The knife was to cut the bandages you know…” Atalia had little experience, but she did not like the look in the Worgen’s eye as he repeatedly kept glancing her body up and down.


The question broke him from his thoughts and his eyes darted down and back to where he had been lying. Indeed, a trail of netherweave was unfurled from the bedroll to where he had her pinned now, they were lying with their heads just outside the tent, her legs just on the bedroll. As he came to look back on her face she smiled gently. She seemed very sweet for a dead creature… “Why did you save me?” he asked.


“If someone found me like that, I’d hope that they’d save me!” she replied with a slight chuckle. She sounded quite genuine and as she kept smiling at him it made him angry for some reason… He was only so gravely injured right now because of the Forsaken.


Sylvanas had killed his son, helped topple Gilneas, and was responsible for the death of another of his friends though… and this was his chance for some sort of revenge. Even if she was a poor, young, unguarded girl… “How old are you?” Maybe she’s lived more years than I thought. Her and her rangers are eons old… Many Forsaken are older than one might guess. This could be some game! She could be pretending to be coy and innocent… She could have been walking around since the invasion of the scourge, completely untouched by age.


The question made Atalia nervous. Why would he be asking this? But she knew something he didn’t, so she calmly answered almost truthfully, “I was 19 when I died, just barely… And I have lived about three years now since being Raised.” She was actually only sixteen when she had died, but… her life had been a complicated one. She felt like she got more respect when she was a tad deceptive, and she got less pity.


His fears were confirmed. She was younger than his children. He sighed and shook his head. Then he leaned down and smelled her by her neck. He smelled roses and that sweet herb that must be emanating from her hair. He felt the girl stiffen as he did this and he chuckled. He moved his hands down her arms slightly, just pressing down them further. Her skin was softer and more supple than it should be for a dead and reanimated corpse. Even the smell of death was faint on her, but the smell of her fear was strong…


“Please… stop…” she whispered nervously.


His stomach lurched as he felt his heart pound in excitement at her plea. She was getting more nervous now. She should… he could do this to her, he realized. He felt a mix of horror and giddiness run through him as he realized this and he straightened to look into her face. Atalia looked terrified as he grinned down at her. A look of scared realization of what was happening had begun to dawn on her face. He then moved his left leg, his good leg, to try to get between hers, but she tried to keep them firmly in place.


“This can happen easy and enjoyably for you, or this can happen forcefully and I can’t guarantee how much you’ll like it,” he growled quietly, finally forcing his leg between the two of hers roughly.


“Ma’yat!!” Ma’yat!!!” She screamed suddenly, looking off out from the tent. “Help!!!” She then began to try to struggle from him, but he had several feet on her and more than enough weight to easily keep her in place. He chuckled at her feeble attempt until suddenly he heard a familiar deep chime of an elemental and his stomach dropped. He had a mage pinned beneath him and she’d called her elemental. The Worgen immediately knew that he had to force her concentration to break or else he’d lose control of the situation.


Trying to break her focus so the elemental would then decide to wander off or even be dismissed he quickly took both wrists into his left hand and then he tore off her cloak. She gasped and then continued to flail beneath him. She tried to kick, and as she did, he managed to use her movements to get his other leg between hers, then he used his knees to pin her hips to the ground, rendering her kicks useless. He admired, now that he could see it better, her bra-like chestpiece but she had a shirt under, and he then tore it off with a snap right as the elemental reached the camp. She cried out as the leather tearing had hurt, digging into her skin as he did this, but he didn’t let up and then tore off her gray shirt, ripping it several pieces. His muscles and claws made easy work of the fabric. The elemental had been charging a shot at him and as she sat there beneath him, him holding her ruined shirt, her now only in the bottom half of her armor and bra, her concentration had indeed been shattered. The elemental dropped its arm and then began to wander away from the camp. He tossed the ruined shirt to the side of the tent atop where his coat was and gave her a wolfish grin.


“Ma-Ma’yat!! Please!!! Help!!” She yelled helplessly as the arcane creature disappeared into darkness. The white wolf laughed openly at his victory. He honestly hadn’t been expecting that. Perhaps some rogue trick, warlock spell work, or an unholy priest trick, but not an elemental. He had her hands caught, so as a mage, she couldn’t perform any tricks, but he couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t called for help from her summoned companion earlier. “Ma’yat…” she cried softly a couple tears forming in her eyes.


“Why didn’t you call that thing earlier? You felt in control?” The Worgen smirked. The mage could only turn her face to the side to avoid the man above her and she didn’t reply immediately.


“I… I thought if I gave you control… perhaps you wouldn’t feel the need to hurt me.” She finally said after several moments, trying to regain composure of her voice, but struggling.


The comment stung, but it could make sense. Strategically the man ran it through his head and he ruled out as a possibility, given the girl’s naivety, that she was lying… He steeled himself for what he was about to do and took the netherweave that was to his right and began to wind it around her wrists, tightly. She began to really cry now as he then turned to push her head into the tent and bind her wrists to a pole inside. Soon she had her wrists bound above her head and she was lying with her back on the bedroll. It would be a long night for her…


The Worgen’s hands began to loosen her belt as soon as he made sure her hands were securely bound. She hadn’t really fought him much as he moved and bound her, but now, now she began to yank against the binds and pole. “No! No, please! Please , stop! No!” She frantically begged as he undid her belt. He paused and then looked up to her face. She had actually cried tears… it was eerie, and it made him feel guilty already. But, she is a mockery of life , he reminded himself. But, still, he gently took a hand and touched her face while using his other to touch her bare side. As she shivered slightly he smiled at the reaction, regardless if she had liked what he was doing or was despising it… Again that surge of revulsion at himself and excitement ran through as he leaned over and licked her neck.


She took a hitched breath followed by deeper heavier breaths. His clawed hand was now on her neck and the other still at her side, patiently now trying to ease her into this. He kissed her neck gently which made her jolt slightly and he smiled as he kissed, licked, and nipped along her neck. He marveled how soft her skin actually was, it did almost feel like a living woman, except that it was very cool, as if she had been outside in winter without a covering for a couple hours… Atalia had never actually had anyone touch her like she was being touched now, or kiss her like this… the warmth of his hands and his mouth, of his breath, it made her shiver… She’d been terrified about this only moments before, but… it was feeling nice as much as she was hating herself for enjoying while he ran his tongue along her collarbone before breathing heavily along where he’d licked. She gasped in pleasure at the sensation… When he kissed along the underside of her jaw again she felt a tight sensation growing between her legs, it had been building some for some time and she bit back a groan. She pulled gently at her bonds, but they were tied expertly and she sighed. When he bit down gently on the other side of her neck she gasped and leaned into it, relishing the sensation, but she yanked at where he hands were tied. His hand from her neck then went back to her belt and began to try to gently tug her pants downwards. She had been breathing hard, leaning into his actions slightly, but now she stiffened suddenly.


“Relax…” he whispered. “I do want to make you feel good…”


“...By forcing me into… whatever this is?” Atalia asked, glaring into the top of his head and then his face as he pulled back to look at her.


He frowned slightly. “How much sex have you had?” he asked frankly the question that had been nagging at his mind.


“I’ve never had a partner… I’m a virgin,” She confirmed his suspicion nervously, but avoided his eyes. “Please don’t… please don’t take that from me.” She weakly asked with a smile, meeting his eyes finally at the end. Her whole life she felt conflicted about the idea of dating or being courted because of… reasons… Questions regarding her experience she desperately tried to avoid, but she could confidently and truthfully say that she had never taken a partner to court or date… Inside she wondered if she should divulge the dark secret to this stranger that she wasn’t completely innocent of his insinuations… But she felt too ashamed.


Part of him wanted to rip off her pants and ravage her right there as he heard her say that she’d never had a partner.. Make her scream and cry, beg and plead for nought, not ease into it at all… Let her go crying back to her queen once it was all over, a broken mess, at least he would spare her “ life ”… But, a part of him softened… she was so young and a virgin… It disgusted him, his desire to hurt her, to take her like this… But his desire… his need for revenge outweighed that disgust. And some animalistic urge in the Worgen part of him stirred... Besides, even if her emotions were not just a front, he was sure they couldn’t be felt nearly as deeply as a normal human being.


The conflicting emotions must have shown slightly across his face because she kept her hopeful smile for a few moments before it finally faded as a smile bloomed across his face. The Worgen’s smile was one of pity and he looked away from her eyes before he then took both his hands onto the hips of her pants and began to pull them off.


Atalia struggled with him, not resigning herself to this fate. She finally managed to kick him in the side, eliciting a loud howl of pain from him. He then pinned her knees to get the pants down to her knees, then pinned took her feet in one hand and pulled the pants off the rest of the way. Once he managed to get them off he tossed them outside the tent and he glared at his captive angrily rubbing his bandaged side in pain. The irony was not lost on him and his anger subsided quickly as she glared at him and he felt guilty at what he was doing once more… but again the idea of revenge drove him to continue. She may have bandaged his wounds, but it was her kind’s fault he was wounded.


Atalia saw his furious look as she landed a blow to his side, but she saw how it softened as he studied her… She saw how his gaze became hungry with lust and she felt uncomfortable. She never thought a man would look at her in such a way, and now to be literally tied up and have a man look at her in such a way, a way she was sure no man would ever look at her after she had died , she felt conflicted.... She closed her eyes and flinched as he bent down over her frame, expecting him to tear off the remainder of her modesty, but he merely kissed her neck gently and gently touched her side. The Forsaken relaxed immensely at not having the rest of her clothing torn off, but she couldn’t help but enjoy what the Worgen was doing to her. He was being gentle with his touches, the kisses, his licks, his nips… It was almost as if this was like being with a man should be, if she could have ever chosen it… It was not exactly like she’d ever get to choose it after what had happened now, but she had resigned herself to that! The more he did, the more she enjoyed it, and the sadder it was making her. This wasn’t how she wanted things to go! She wanted to choose to be with a man! ...not that a normal man would choose to be with her...


He considered kissing her on the lips, but as he was a Worgen, and not knowing if she had even had a first kiss… he considered that a bit too cruel, so he went back to her, leaning over her carefully, he  kissed her neck again. As her pants were off and she was only in bra and panties ... his hands only went to her sides once more, her body relaxed some. Soon she was breathing a bit heavy again as he kissed and licked her neck. He went all along from under her chin and to where it met her shoulders. With her pants off now he could smell her , she was becoming turned on… He was only kissing her! Her inexperience was somehow a sick thrill to him as he continued…


The girl beneath him didn’t have a beating heart and her flesh wasn’t alive, but it was good mimicry… he felt his own heart begin to beat harder as one hand began to travel upwards. She let out a gasp and once again she stiffened, but he could still smell that she was interested in his ministrations, so he continued. Soon he had a large hand around one of her equally large breasts and gently cupped it, resting his head on her shoulder, breathing heavily himself. Then he slowly and softly began to rub her chest, knowing that this was probably the first time that she’d experienced such a thing. Soon enough her body was relaxing and she was breathing hard again, but she tugged her arms at the binds above her.


“Are you not liking what I’m doing…?” He asked, with a toothy grin, leaning his head up to look her in the eyes.


Her face was flushed a deathly blue-green, and she only darkened more at the question, but managed to answer, “N-not really… I’ve been try...trying to g-get away… f-for a while…” Her words were staggered and her breath still heavy as she answered and she shuddered as he finally pinched a nipple through the fabric of her bra and she let out a soft moan, closing her eyes. Whether her eyes were closed solely from pleasure, pain, or embarrassment, it was difficult to tell.


The Worgen chuckled, “Why are you stuttering?” and then he leaned down to her ear. “I can smell that perhaps you’re enjoying yourself.”


At the comment the girl suddenly lurched at the bonds above her particularly hard, but found no give. Then she stopped struggling at all. The man looked at her and saw she appeared somewhat crestfallen… Accepting her fate… He resumed kissing along her neck and then took his other hand and began to touch her other breast. Soon he was massaging them both and then he leaned above her and examined the bra… He found the small clasps in front and struggled to undo them, but managed to carefully remove the article mindful of his claws, unlike the other part of her upper clothing, and he tossed it aside unscathed. It left her bare-chested and the girl immediately flushed as his eyes took in the sight.


She’d never had a man see her like this as an adult and she wished she could just cover herself up, but as she pulled at her bonds, they wouldn’t give. Her wrists were beginning to hurt from the repeated tugs and struggling she was giving them. All of his touches were first-times… as much as she hated it, it was new and novel, and she couldn’t help but feel a reaction inside herself.


Her skin was a deathly pale bluish white with nipples of a dark blue, much like her lips… The soft flesh beneath him was so cool that it was almost cold, but it was warming under his touches… He could smell the tones of death underneath the sweet smell of roses and herbs on this girl, she was just a bag of rotting bones and flesh… ichor not blood in her veins by her own admission… but he could smell the feminine reek of her being turned on beneath him. She was so wet because of what he was doing… despite if she did not want it, despite if she wasn’t really… alive… He could also smell her fear... The Worgen swallowed and looked over the girl beneath him, she had a mix of fear and some other emotion he couldn’t pin in her eyes, so he leaned down and took one of her breasts into his mouth, making her gasp loudly.


The man licked her breast gently, running across the sensitive blue bus in the center gently a couple times. Then he expertly sucked at the bare nipple, minding his sharp teeth, making it harden almost instantly. His left hand went to her other breast and rubbed the nipple as he continued to suck and then gently pressed his teeth into the hardened nub of flesh. The girl finally lurched up into him and he tried not to smile and merely continued his work. She was suddenly moaning quietly, subdued…


Atalia had never had someone make her orgasm before, but she could tell that she was about to crest, and she was fighting to stop herself. She was trying to bite back the moans, but they came anyway. The Worgen pinched her nipple and then switched from where he was, sucking on her right to her left side and giving her now-wet breast attention with his right hand. The sudden change was just enough to shove her off the edge and she couldn’t stop the gasp and then loud breathing that followed. Expertly, the man sucked and flicked his tongue at the same time, and pinched down gently with his claws on the other side, riding out her orgasm for a longer time than she had ever felt the few times she had managed the feat alone… She also couldn’t stop herself from pressing her back upwards… it was so instinctual, so natural, there was just so much sensation and heat… After the crescendo began to subside he finally stopped sucking on her and then he sat up and looked down at her.


The Worgen smiled down at the girl. Regardless of what followed, she’d be wet enough now for him, and at least she had gotten some pleasure from this… If only the pleasure he gave would later shame her… His hands then traveled towards her panties and her reaction was delayed because he had caught her in an afterglow.


She was still breathing heavily, despite not needing that much air… and failed to notice immediately as his hands trailed to her remaining undergarment. She finally noticed as he began to tug them downwards, and then once again she began to struggle, trying to kick him…


He used the same tricks to remove the panties that he did her pants and soon they were off. He was between her knees and she began to shake in fear. She’d been slightly placated by only being kissed, and her hormones had perhaps gotten the better of her with her top off, but it was clear that this was fully sex he was suddenly intentioning. As she began to tremble, a look of concern flitted across his face.


“Please, stop this,” she begged. “Look I don’t even know your name. I can’t tell anyone about any of this.”


The comment shocked him. He wondered if it was the truth or not. How long had she been dead? he wondered. She looked like she hadn’t been dead for long, Gilneas had joined the Alliance a couple years ago, but more than three. Again guilt wandered through his mind about what he was about to do and he leaned down, putting his hands on her sides again, a neutral area.


“Shh…” He shushed quietly, leaning his head beside hers. She only began to cry in response and he felt slightly worse. His ears went back against his head. They had been having fun… he thought… but he had had to tie her up to do it, and she’d been fighting against her bonds, but he could smell that she was enjoying it, even if she denied it.


Again he moved to kiss her neck, ignoring her heartbreaking cries, his hands gently caressing her abdomen. After several minutes of him kissing, licking, and nipping she had quieted, but she wasn’t breathing hard with any sort of desire… yet . He felt frustrated.


Atalia had resigned herself that this man, this Worgen was going to rape her… the bonds on her wrists were too tight for her to get away or cast a spell. She was naked and helpless. Crying was just expelling fluid that was precious as a Forsaken… When he finally sat up again and sighed loudly and she began to tremble again, knowing that this was it; she was about to lose her virginity.


“If you’re this terrified it is going to hurt badly,” he calmly stated to her.


The Forsaken stared at him aghast. What sort of reaction was he expecting? Did he do this sort of thing regularly? Were women supposed to enjoy being forcibly ravaged by Worgen? Finally her shock turned to rightful anger and she replied, “Of course I’m scared! I want you to stop… Don’t you have any family? A sister? A wife? A daughter? What if this happened to her?”


He flinched at the comment. The idea of his own daughter being assaulted was a bit, well, laughable, given how formidable she was, but if captured… Then he felt sick. What was he doing? He was making himself little better than his enemy...


The Worgen had smirked at her question but then he appeared a bit bothered then upset. He turned away from her and then brought over the cloak that he had discarded earlier. Carefully he drapped it over her nude and prone body before he left the tent. From Atalia’s point of view she first was concerned that perhaps he had left her there, bound to the pole, but she soon heard the sound of the kettle hitting the ground near the fire outside… He’d gone to finally remove the damn thing before it got ruined. She sighed in relief as she heard him begin to then put the fire out and then felt slightly concerned as she heard him yelp in pain quietly.


“...Are you okay?” She called out softly.


After what he had done, what he was going to do, the question bothered him, but he answered, “Yes.” Finishing putting the fire out and returning to the tent. The moonlight was more than enough light for his eyes. The girl’s eyes glowed green, much like a blood elf, and she was staring at him as he reentered the tent and then he looked at her. “I’ll sleep on it.”


“Sleep on what?” Atalia asked. She didn’t get it at first as he turned his back on her and curled up away from her on what was exposed of the bedroll. Then with horror she realized what he meant. He was still planning on at least possibly assaulting her. “B-but I helped you! I...I haven’t done any of this before… how can you…?”


“Quiet!” he growled loudly, turning his head over his shoulder slightly. Revenge… the need still dug at him so deeply that it made him unsure of his actions. As he turned back away, for some reason he felt the need to tell her, and he wasn’t sure if it was to hurt or to try to seek absolution from her. “Your queen killed my son… He was little older than you when he met his end.”


She was silent for a couple minutes before she finally replied. “How can you do this to anyone , when you’ve lost a child?” She asked, horrified. “Especially when… I’m younger .”


The Worgen finally snarled at her, “Because of that!” He sat up and turned around, staring her in the face. “I wanted to break you so you’d go back to that queen of yours with this story… She stole my son, so I can steal at least something from you… You’re all her children after all.”


Atalia let out a choked cry and then began to sob quietly as the man turned his back and seemed to go fall asleep quickly. He actually didn’t fall asleep quickly, though, and her sobs shook him to his core. His need for revenge, his need to avenge Liam, he wasn’t sure if it was worth hurting this particular girl… But he tried to remind himself that she was just a mimicry, an echo of life. She was imitating the real thing. From what he had heard Forsaken didn’t even feel things as well as normal people… although she did seem rather sensitive. Maybe she had been near Holy magic and that was why her senses were so? But she seemed emotionally sensitive, too... No , this girl’s soul was lost long ago… she was supposed to be dead no matter how sweet she seemed . Maybe a lot of it was even an act to try to mess with his mind. Perhaps she really knew who he was… she wasn’t even a virgin or actually ‘lived’ so many few years. As sleep finally found him, his mind had been made up as to what to do with her.




So there were more clues, revealed along the way, but though I will start naming ‘the Worgen’ in CH2, to be clear, but Atalia has NO idea, who he is…. Man I am fucked up… wrote this while in a fucked up place...