Maura.

Every once in a while it is asked, usually by some well meaning other than forsaken member of our Horde. Do you remember anything before the Scourge? Do you miss your old life? Most of the time I bat the question away as if it were a fly, merely an annoyance not worth hunting down and killing. But today, as I watched the abominations of the Lich King deposited as if they were kegs of beer for a party in the middle of Orgrimmar, the question had been asked again. This time, I feel it needs some hunting down.

I remember bits. I can connect those bits into some sort of history. I was probably no better than a kitchen maid. I remember serving richly clad people at long tables. I remember a bauble guiltily pressed into my hand, likely once meant for a wife. An older woman cleans and bandages me after a particularly rough night, my hand fingering the bauble still in my apron pocket. Sometimes I can remember other things, but this has been too much bother already. I am no longer that person. I slip into the shadows, my hand resting on a mace with a knobby end.

Well, one part of that person still is. Bitter, and still fingering a quite expensive bit of jewelry. Now if only I could remember who gave it to me...