Malifika

"How old am I, you ask little orcling? Hah! Such an innocent question from one as young as yourself. Well, if you want to know more about me, the first thing you should know is that I no longer measure my years in terms of life. Because, young one, I am no longer alive."

The young orc's eyes grew wide before narrowing into a look Malifika interpreted as fierceness.

"That does not frighten you? You are a brave orc, indeed."

The child's face grew fiercer at such praise, and she didn't budge.

"Very well, then, young one, I shall answer your question along with your curiosity. Sit. My tale begins long before your people arrived on Azeroth, but in many ways our stories are intertwined.

I was born in a place called Silvermoon City, far to the north of here, approximately 70 years ago, and I have lived many lives though I would still be considered young among my people -- almost as young as you are to yours!"

The small orc eyed Malifika suspiciously as she continued speaking.

"My home was an amazing sight to behold --white and gold spires reaching to the skies, rich colors and silks adorning all -- a beautiful place for a beautiful people."

The young orc's nose wrinkled at the idea, clearly not thinking the scrawny elf beautiful at all. But she wanted to hear the story, so she kept her mouth shut. Slightly bemused, Malifika continued.

"As a child I showed an aptitude for magic and was apprenticed to one of the mages in the city. For many years I learned dutifully by the woman's side, performing mundane tasks but learning much along the way. She worked under the great mage Rommath, who knew Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider himself! I knew how lucky I was to be working with her, and I followed her orders carefully. She was a demanding task master, but I loved her dearly."

Malifika paused for a moment, lost in the memory. The orcling's grunt brought her back to the present, and she went on.

"Her name was Allana, and she was killed during the Second War when your people united under the betrayer Doomhammer," Malifika nearly spat the name, "and attacked my homeland. Our beautiful forests burned, many of my people died, and I was very angry for a long time." Malifika cast a sidelong glance at the young orc, gaging her reaction, before resuming her story.

"Consumed by a desire for revenge, I continued my training with the mages of Silvermoon, focusing my powers on fire magic, determined to use the orc dragon rider's weapons against them if ever given the chance." At this the child's eyes went wide with awe; she had heard of the dragon riders and wished she could have seen them herself. "Aye, little one, the mighty orcs managed to tame the dragons themselves! But it was not long before most of your people were defeated under Doomhammer's banner and herded off to camps by the humans, whose cruelty and betrayal would surpass anything I could have imagined.

In the meantime, my people turned inward, bitter that the Alliance had allowed our forest to burn, and I had little to do with the outside world until a group of mages was ordered to Dalaran, the human mage academy, by Grand Magister Rommath. Our glorious Prince Kael'Thas was there, and we were to perform some diplomatic function with the human magi."

Malifika snorted and waved her hand dismissively. Her eyes narrowed, once again losing herself in the replay of past events that still clearly held power over her. She shook away the ghosts in her head and returned to her story, somewhat surprised to see the little orc girl still sitting, waiting expectantly. The smoke from the camp's fires drifted over to where they sat away from prying eyes, the seclusion causing the words to flow uncharacteristically freely. Malifika closed her eyes and breathed deeply, taking up her story with a sigh.

"While I was away consorting with the humans," she continued bitterly, emphasizing the last word with particular scorn, "my beautiful city came under siege once again, this time against a force truly evil and unstoppable. A scourge of undead warriors led by the human prince Arthas (yes young one, the Lich King, though that came later) overwhelmed my land, my city and my people. The honored dead were defiled and raised to fight their own mothers and brothers; fathers were forced to slay their sons. It was a gruesome time, little one, and once again I felt the rage and hatred boil in my blood. Other races could not be trusted! Magic was the only thing to trust. That, and our beautiful Prince Kael'Thas. It was he who named us Sin'Dorei, or Blood Elves, as you know us now, in honor of our fallen brethren.

You see young one, the humans were responsible for the destruction of my people as well as yours, and under the leadership of Kael'Thas and Rommath, I was soon to witness firsthand how deep the human's treachery would go.

I was imprisoned in the very dungeons of Dalaran, that human city I once visited under the flag of diplomacy. Ha!" Malifika scoffed, "It was not enough that Arthas wiped out most of my people --the scheming Garithos sought to exterminate us entirely! We had lost our precious Sunwell, the glory and source of our magical power, and he hit us while we were low. We escaped his treachery, however, and found ourselves on none other than your people's homeworld -- Dreanor. Yes! You see, little orc, I told you our stories were intertwined."

Malifika smiled ruefully, and the orcling simply nodded, wide-eyed, afraid that if she asked the dozen questions running through her mind, the elf would go silent again as she usually did. So she bit them back and waited.

"It was on your homeworld that I first truly tasted magical power since the destruction of our Sunwell, and it was magic more powerful than I could have imagined. I was drunk with the fel energy, consuming it with all the hunger and lust of a starved orc before a feast of the finest meats. My body could not resist the corruption, and the devourer became the devoured.

I abandoned my mage training to become a warlock instead -- yes, in much the same way your people had turned their backs on shamanism. The immense power that fel energy offered was unparalleled, and when given the chance to return home with the mage Rommath to bring hope to my people, I declined, unable to tear myself away from this new source of power. I became a felblood initiate and gorged myself on demonic blood for days! My power grew exponentially, but I began to change… physically corrupted by the demon energy that coursed through my body.

You have heard something similar of your people, no doubt young one, after they drank the blood of Mannaroth -- orc skin turned from brown to green, eyes went red, and bodies bulged with brutal strength. These powers changed me as well. I grew dark and sinister, raw power pulsing through me until I barely recognized myself.

During these years, I began to understand your race and the bloodlust that led to the wars on Azeroth. I did not forgive them then -- no! But I could understand a lust for power so great it could blot out all else. The only thing to which I was more loyal was my glorious prince. Him I would follow to the reaches of the universe! And I nearly did.

I served my prince in Quel'Thalas, in Outland, and eventually in the far reaches of Northrend, agreeing to leave Draenor for the chance at vengeance against Arthas and his damned Scourge. In that icy land I fought alongside my prince and a powerful female warrior named Lana'Thel, whose fierceness and tenacity you would have admired little one. She fought bravely and harder than any warrior I have seen, but in the end we were defeated. Many of us retreated back to Draenor, though she refused to leave. Once again my people were scattered, and I heard rumors of Lana'Thel's death, though I refused to believe them.

Back on Draenor my powers continued to grow, and I was soon assigned to accompany my prince back to Quel'Thalas itself, the first time I had returned to my home city since my imprisonment in Dalaran. Our mission was to steal M'uru, the naaru that had become a powerful magical source for my people. Without question I followed my prince and did his bidding. I had lost sight of all that had made my people honorable and saw only the glory of power.

I fought without question, cutting down my own people with my fel magics. My prince sought to bring "The Beautiful One" into Azeroth -- for only he promised true glory and power. See, little one, we are similar -- your people and myself. Kil'Jaeden promised great power and exacted an even greater price."

Malifika paused, looking at the small orc gravely, her glowing eyes boring down on the girl. To her credit, the orcling did not flinch. She had lived among spartan, warlike conditions, and she had heard the stories of her people told round the fires at night. She looked at the elf now with new admiration both for the power she evinced and genuine understanding this outsider radiated. Malifika nodded slightly and picked up where she had left off, her voice a register lower than it had been.

"I was cut down that day… by one who had claimed to love me. My eyes wide in shock and surprise as his blade bit into my flesh. To this day," she admitted, "I know not whether he recognized me, so much I had changed."

Now, the little orc looked the slightest bit frightened as the reality of Malifika's actual death sunk in, and she bit her lower lip against her tusks to mask the emotion through pain, an action Malifika noticed with a hint of appreciation.

"That, little one, is the last moment of my life that I can remember. I failed my prince. I failed Kil'Jaeden. As surely as the might of my fel magic failed me. The next thing I remember are the whispers -- the Lich King was summoning me. Apparently, my power had not gone unnoticed, as the Lich King learned all he could from Lana'Thel, the powerful female warrior I spoke of earlier. The rumors of her death had been true, but in death she had become something far more powerful than she had ever been in life: she became the Blood Queen.

Lana'Thel was on one of the first raised in death by Arthas the Lich King, and in so doing, he acquired access to all her memories. As he began to amass his army of death knights…. yes, little one, he learned from your Gul'Dan… but back to my story. As he began to amass his army of death knights, he pulled not only from the fallen paladins who had been his brothers in arms, he also extended his mind to those whose power had impressed him, and it was his whispers that called me back from death.

I awoke, power once more coursing through my body, and I arose, murmuring the words, 'I hunger for more.'

I served the Lich King in death as I had served Kael'Thas in life: without question, drinking in the power he offered. And I slaughtered humans by the hundreds. I was a machine made for killing, even more powerful than I had been in life. Not once did I stop to think until one fateful day that would change my trajectory entirely. I found my sword hovering over one I'd known in life -- a mage with whom I'd served and counted as a friend, a former apprentice of mine before my glorious city fell to the Scourge. She begged me to remember myself as I had been -- my mage training, my beautiful scarlet locks flowing over my robes."

Malifika's fingers strayed absently to her hair, and she looked down surprised the little orc was still there. "D-did you kill her?" the little orc rasped. Malifika nodded.

"I did, but through her death I regained my free will, a gift for which I will forever be grateful. I left the Lich King's service not long after and joined the Horde in its fight against him -- the one human who had taken so much from me." Her voice trailed off slightly, her upper lip forming into an angry sneer, a steely set to those glowing eyes.

"When we finally vanquished him, I was left empty. Vengeance still gripped my soul, and I'd heard rumors of a renegade orc clan in the south still bringing the fight to the Alliance. It took months, but I sought out your clan -- The Blacktooth Grin -- determined to carve a place for myself among its warriors. I will spend the rest of my days hunting humans and their pathetic Alliance regardless of what that Peachchief Thrall says is best for the Horde," Malifika growled.

"Humans took everything from me, little one, just as they did to your people. It is this that binds us. We both know the human's treachery, the insatiable lust of demon blood, and the inescapable changes wrought by such things. My own tragedies have taught me to understand yours and to finally forgive your people. I hold the humans responsible for all, and I will not rest as long as I have the strength to fight."