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Description
This was inspired by a good friend who plays a Draenei Death Knight, and happens to know belly dancing in RL too!

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"Ya don't want to cast ya eyes on her, lass. She is one of the damned."

"I don't understand, sir...", I responded in confusion to the dwarf who now shared my table.

"That pretty little thing was once a Death Knight. Who knows how many of me brothers she put the pointy end to, all in service of that bastard, Arthas.". The Dwarf spat on the ground, oblivious to the spittoon only metres away.

I had heard the stories of the Death Knights. How they had been resurrected from the dead to serve as the elite knights of the scourge. I was astonished to learn that many of them were in fact not reanimated dead, but were mortals who willingly served the despised Lich king.

A significant number of the Death Knights broke free of the Lich king's control after a failed attempt by Arthas to betray their ranks. Now they live their lives under their own free will, in service of the Alliance and the Horde. With the defeat of Arthas, even more Death Knights have returned to society's fold, many seeking to reclaim the lives that they abandoned, or had been ripped from them.

I looked on at the graceful dancer. She seemed a world away from the bloody wars that, until recently, raged on in Northrend. Did she willing serve the Scourge? Did she slaughter innocents? The hypocrisy wasn't lost on me. The Alliance and Horde were just as willing to sacrifice lives to fuel the war machine. My own people have turned their backs more than once.

The music in the tavern snapped me back to reality.

"Lass, would ya be willing to buy an old veteran a drink or two? It's bloody hot in Shatt, and I'm a long way home from the forge."

I smiled at the dwarf. "The next round is on me."

Description
This was inspired by a good friend who plays a Draenei Death Knight, and happens to know belly dancing in RL too!

--------------------------------------------

"Ya don't want to cast ya eyes on her, lass. She is one of the damned."

"I don't understand, sir...", I responded in confusion to the dwarf who now shared my table.

"That pretty little thing was once a Death Knight. Who knows how many of me brothers she put the pointy end to, all in service of that bastard, Arthas.". The Dwarf spat on the ground, oblivious to the spittoon only metres away.

I had heard the stories of the Death Knights. How they had been resurrected from the dead to serve as the elite knights of the scourge. I was astonished to learn that many of them were in fact not reanimated dead, but were mortals who willingly served the despised Lich king.

A significant number of the Death Knights broke free of the Lich king's control after a failed attempt by Arthas to betray their ranks. Now they live their lives under their own free will, in service of the Alliance and the Horde. With the defeat of Arthas, even more Death Knights have returned to society's fold, many seeking to reclaim the lives that they abandoned, or had been ripped from them.

I looked on at the graceful dancer. She seemed a world away from the bloody wars that, until recently, raged on in Northrend. Did she willing serve the Scourge? Did she slaughter innocents? The hypocrisy wasn't lost on me. The Alliance and Horde were just as willing to sacrifice lives to fuel the war machine. My own people have turned their backs more than once.

The music in the tavern snapped me back to reality.

"Lass, would ya be willing to buy an old veteran a drink or two? It's bloody hot in Shatt, and I'm a long way home from the forge."

I smiled at the dwarf. "The next round is on me."