World of Warcraft fanfic

I wrote this tonight and just wanted to share it, maybe it belongs in the WoW forums more, but here is just a little story based on one of the characters I play. The name of this story is called Victims.

Victims.

It was the screaming that woke her up. Was it her own vocal chords that had produced it? Or was it one of the many phantom faces that pressed against the inside of her eyelids when she closed them? In any case she laid there, wide awake and silent. She focused on both the excessive sweat she was laying in and for any sounds coming from outside the room. Kirrika wasn't sure how long it was, but it seemed like sufficient time that no one had come rushing up banging on the door to check on her.

She decided to rise out of bed to start a new day. Drawing back the curtains to the one small window in the room, she peered out to see dusk settling over the busy streets of Stormwind. Outside numerous people rushed about to do whatever tasks that had brought them to the city. Of course, being the capital of man, most of them were human. Why was she here, a dwarf among humans? Was it a kind of atonement? Looking down at the faces of them, she felt there was an eerie recognition there, maybe of people she knew...but none of them looked exactly right, marking them as strangers all.

She thought to herself "I wonder how many of them lost a friend, or family, to my killing runeblade."

A lump caught in her throat. To her, none of them had any idea of the pain that thought caused her.

"I once tried to save you..."

A shuffling sound from directly behind caused her to spin around. Kirrika looked up to see the rotting abomination of the undead known as a ghoul. Staring down at her, it gave a raspy "YESSS?"

Kirrika was suddenly angered by the fact that her minion ghoul had once again boxed her into a corner, even if it was an accident. She yelled out, "GET OUTTA MAH WAY, YOU.....YOU BRAINHEAD!" It was a truly moronic attempt at an insult, but nevertheless that was the intention. The ghoul stood there with a dumb expression on its face, devoid of emotional response. The Dark in her voice echoed in the room, a side effect of once having to die to serve that evil master, the Lich King. With that she edged her stout frame past the lanky rotting humanoid, her brow furrowed with determination.

Sighing heavily, she had to remind herself that the ghoul did serve a purpose: It was an able servant, and able fighter when it came to that. And at least unlife had stopped the decaying process, which helped with the smell slightly. As it ambled semi-mindlessly around the room (in slow motion, it seemed) images of her victims came to mind. From the lowly northern kobold that she had helped twist into the grotesquery before her, to far back in the past...of crusaders and farmers, peasants and sages.

A peal of distant thunder shook her from the ill-begotten memories. A recent dispatch told her of a floating necropolis that had crashed in the frozen tundra of Northrend. The need of having to explore those ruins for answers to that which she didn't even know the questions to, combined with the desire to leave this city full of people who may at any moment decide she was a liability, gave sudden urgency to her actions. Kiriika the dwarven Death Knight opened her backpack and donned, unironically, the armor of heroes.

Adjusting her shoulder plates, she said " 'Brainhead', how about you get those bags over there for me?"

As Brainhead shuffled its way across the room, Kirrika threw open the door to smell the aroma of freshly baked bread coming from the inn's kitchen. However, there was no time to eat.

"Hurry up now Brainhead, we've got to be goin'. There's work to be done and the night is young. We're heading back to those icy lands, and with the storm comin' it's gonna be a hell of a boat ride."