Another corpse rises in the Deathknell crypt. Unlike the others before her, this one neither runs from the crypt panicked nor exulting; in fact she does not run at all. She simply takes a seat in an alcove and closes her eyes, a soft smile showing on her lips. The newly-risen undead woman sways softly to music only she can hear, tilting her head as if to better hear whispered voices. A graceful hand reaches out to play with the aura drifting around the inside of the crypt. The claws on the end of this hand scrape harshly against the stone.

Startled, her blue eyes open wide, and the smile fades as she looks at her surroundings more clearly. The young woman examines her hand, then stands to take stock of the rest of her body. Knees give way, she falls heavily to the ground, mouth working in tiny, soundless screams. Her eyes squeeze shut, blocking everything solid and real around her; the beautiful world with the strange, twisting patterns returns. The voices begin to whisper again, telling of secrets, power, desires. If only she could hear them better, their voices are so quiet but so beautiful and comforting. The blue eyes peek through the lashes again, as if in hope that the nightmare world she awoke in had gone away. It had not and the eyes squeeze shut again. But the whispers grow louder, they want to help, they know how to help. A brilliant smile replaces her expression of panic and she nods slowly.

Eyes still tightly shut, she reaches unerringly for the thing with the wicked, red aura. A flick of a claw and its bindings fall softly into her lap. Head cocked to one side, she slips the tip of the dagger ever so slowly, ever so gently into the corner of an eye and begins to feel around. Suppressing a shiver of ecstasy as the pain washes over and envelopes her, the woman flicks her wrist and the eye pops out. Another flick and the optic nerve is severed forever, the eye falling to the stone floor with a slight squish. She giggles at the sound then moves to repeat the procedure with her other eye. Another giggle as the second eye falls. The dagger is dropped to the floor, unimportant and forgotten now that it has fulfilled it’s task.

“Yesssss,” the now sightless woman hisses. “Oh, I can hear you so clear. Everything so beautiful, beautiful and shining and real. They lied to me! Gone now, lies all gone now.” She pokes the empty eye sockets viciously, coating her claws in blood. Absent-mindedly, she licks the blood neatly off her fingers before wrapping the leather from the handle of the dagger carefully around her eyes to form a startling ‘x’ across her face.

Now that everything was taken care of, it was time to leave and see what beauties were outside. Already she could sense pain, torment, viciousness… Ah, it was all so beautiful outside, she was sure of it. But as she steps towards to the stairs something snares the undead woman’s attention. Small, glowing with sparkly blue colours but fading fast. She claps her hands excitedly as she realises what the two little glowy things are.

“Blueberries!” she exclaims. She drops to her knees and snatches them up, admiring them for a moment before stuffing them in her mouth and chewing happily. Heading for the stairs again, she skips a little and claps her hands once more. “Playtime now!” she announces around a mouthful of blueberry.

Undertaker Mordo takes in the appearance of the young undead woman who emerges from the crypt, shrugs and simply directs her to Shadow Priest Sarvis. He frowns then calls out to her as she skips down the road. “What is your name, child?”

The young woman swallows her last blueberry, chuckles happily and says, “Squish! Pop!” Mordo looks puzzled for a moment then shrugs again, the odd names of the newly risen were nothing new to him.

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