Flight!

You are powerful. You can feel the strength within you, power that could be unleashed to ravage your foes and destroy anything that stood in your path. You were a predator, a wild beast, and there should be none that could stand before you. You felt that this was true, knew it to be fact...and, yet, you could not bring yourself to face the great and powerful **** of nature that was the Dark Lord approaching you.

His power was immense, beyond your comprehension, and you could not bear it. Beneath the onslaught of his strength, you could only buckle and let fear claim you. Fear grabbed ahold of your heart and, in an instant, you had shed the form of the human woman and become the wolf, the four-legged lupine form that you had created for yourself initially. You shifted into that form and, in an instant, you had turned to run from the Dark Lord, your tail tucked between your hind legs and a whimpering whine in your throat.

You started to leap into motion...but, in an instant, you found yourself caught, a steely hand gripping you with implacable strength at the back of your neck. Powerful fingers wrapped about your throat and your four legs kicked at the air helplessly as you were lifted up and off of the ground. You whined and yelped in pain and terror as you were held aloft and turned so that you were face to damonic face-plate with the Dark Lord, his blazing red eyes glaring into your own.

"It seems she could not stand against your power, My Lord. Though it is surprising she would lose her nerve completely so quickly.", Uldar stated in a disapproving manner.

"Indeed. For some, being cowed by my strength is natural. For others, showing fealty would be enough. But for one such as this, a wild beast whose instincts should guide her to be strong and proud, neither is correct.", the Dark One states and shakes his head almost wearily, "A pity. She seemed like she would be an impressive minion, given time. But what use have I for a wolf that is nothing but a whipped dog from the start?"

With that, the Dark Lord closes his hand upon your neck, the bones snapping and crushing in his grip and causing your body to go limp as he then tosses you back into the bubbling spawning pool. Your consciousness is already fading when you hit the surface, sinking beneath the stew of magic and viscera without being able to even twitch weakly to try and keep yourself afloat. By the time your form has dissipated back into the burbling pool, melting back into nothing more than gore and blood to be used for another more worthy minion to be formed, your consciousness has ceased to be and your very short existence has come to an end.