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Akuyim/The Final Blow(Bad Kranny story)

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Roleplaying

This article is fan fiction

The contents herein are entirely player made and in no way represent official World of Warcraft lore or history. The characters, places, and events listed are of an independent nature and are applied for roleplaying purposes only.

The Final Blow(Bad Kranny story)Edit

Shadow Hold. Night. Death was creeping their hallowed halls, the cultists would not see it coming until it was to be too late.

Kranik stood at the entrance way of the cave yet again. How many times had descended into the depths of its depravity, and why was he compelled to continue. It simply wasn’t because of the monetary gain, there was something else....something calling him. Perhaps the macabre twisting pathways reminded him of his mind.

Something could be figured out from here, he knew it. Hefting his poisoned mace and his poisoned dagger, he slipped unseen into the shadows and descended into the depths beneath.

Eerily it was empty and quiet, much like his own head. The dark voice was silent tonight, but that was simply because they were alone. When he was alone, he walked a fine line between heaven and hell in his mind. Drawing upon both aspects to make a whole, an amalgam of two distant worlds, he was the third aspect. He was simply Kranik, he was neither “good” nor “bad” he simply was. Quiet, efficient, and brutal.

Soon he came across the body of an orc woman, pelted with arrows and slashed by claws, claws of a feline, a large one at that. There was someone else down here with him. For a moment, he pondered the consequences, while he wouldn’t be able to figure out why this place held such appeal, he could have some company. He decided he would remain neutral, he would continue going at his current pace amongst the shadows, if he ran across this hunter, he would decide then if teaming up with them would be worthwhile.

The hunter was good, not a single cultist, enforcer or demon stood in between them. He rounded the corner and before him was the circular room a lit by hundreds of candles. In the center of the room, was a hole, leading into the sacrificial room below. This room was also empty, creeping forward and to his left, he discovered he was wrong. There in the room was the beast, a black and white spotted leopard from Darkshore. He froze as he heard her words, soft, melodious, and beautiful. He couldn’t see her, he didn’t have to. There was a Night Elven huntress in this very room, she was obscured by a pillar.

His mind raced, a shiver ran up his spine, his hands could feel the tell-tale pressure building up inside them, his muscles coiled in on themselves like cobras. The thin line between heaven and hell he walked on...he just fell off. In a cave where horrible sacrifices were performed regularly, with a lone Night Elven huntress. No one would care if she screamed. The familiar evil smile crept across his lips.

His eyes turned icy cold, he watched her every sway, her every movement. She ran off ahead of him in the tunnels. The thrill of the chase. He made no motions to go any faster, he would let her do all the work. She would be tired, when he came to claim her.

He stalked up behind her waiting. Her and her cat were sizing up an orc warlock across the room. Without thinking any worse for wear, her cat raced across the room. She drew back her bowstring, arrow nocked for deadly precision.


With a snicker his dagger sliced her bowstring, she gasped for a moment before his mace crashed down on her skull. She slumped forward as her arrow, pitched and cascaded to the floor with a clatter. His dagger pierced through the links in chainmail burying itself deep into her back. Her gasp cut short as his dagger pierced a lung. With a gruesome twist he pulled it back out. His mace slamming into her shoulder, with enough force to dislocate it.

Startled she regained some of her senses, calling her cat back to her side, she spun to face her assailant. She made the fatal error of locking her eyes on his soulless cold orbs of death. She stood mezmerized a moment. With a twisting leap his dagger bit through her neck causing her head to fly towards her cat. Who made one last leap, but the warlock made sure it never made it to Kranik alive.

Kranik disappeared into the shadows and made quick work of the warlock and her tiny imp companion. When he was done, he sauntered to where her head had finally come to rest. Bending down he picked it up and looked at it with grim satisfaction. While she didn’t get the chance to scream for him, the twisted look of fear forever etched on her face was priceless. He stared at her for several minutes, drinking her all in, memorizing the agonizing look forevermore. Before he removed some of her lovely green locks. He dropped her head to the floor, inhaling her hair, before placing it in his trophy pouch of all the others.

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