Despite our route of the troll forces near Skulk Rock, there was to be no assault on the main troll city. Mere hours after Brassbelly fell, a messenger arrived from Lordaeron demanding our withdrawal to the nearest available fortification.
The time between the assassination of Brassbelly and my unit's return to its main garrison in Lordaeron was short, but turbulant. We were ordered to return to Aerie Peak, originally, but found it quaranteened by the Order of the High Marshall, for the plague which had been spreading between hamlets and villages during our tour in the Highlands had finally made its way into the mass of the population of Trisfall. Aerie Peak was in flames, trolls were roaming the woods in larger numbers than before, and panic had set upon the ranks.
They were chaotic times, those. Men in the ranks began to fall ill. A day or so of fever, a rot setting into the extremities that would quickly spread throughout the body, followed by death. A rapid deterioration of the soft tissues would then set in, reducing the body to what one would expect from many weeks of necrosis within a matter of hours.
And then they would rise, and slay, and eat.
Our unit, by the time we actually reached the City, had lost nearly half of the numbers that remained after the closure of the troll campaign. As priests, we were the first and often the last to have contact with infected soldiers in our efforts to hold the disease at bay, and either by the grace- or the wisdom- of Skassax, I was soon to be the ranking remaining priest of our detachment. The others had either contracted the rot or were outright killed by those who had. I gave orders that we would begin burning the bodies to prevent their reanimation, and this helped. But it did not prevent death or madness, and by the time we reached the gates of Lordaeron and were met by a ragged battallion that gave some of us permission to enter- and killed and burned others- the Ordo Dracus had ceased to exist as a coherent fighting force. All command and control was nearly gone, desertion was the order of the day, and madness was sweeping through the survivors.
We found a fortification in chaos. One part of the city, the mage's quarter, was already lost.
Fighting raged in the central hub and in the rogue's quarter and the war quarter, presses of men trying to push back wave after wave of gibbering scourgelings. Losing ground. Always losing ground, inch by inch, foot by foot.
Upon arrival, those remaining of the Ordo Dracus who were still able to stand were pressed into the battle. I was taken aside and ordered to report to the new Order Pontifex.
And so I made my way to the apothecarium, where I was ordered to find him. The city was alive with screams and moans, a rot and a stench and smoke. Much smoke. The greasy fetid oil of burning bodies.
But Skassax stroked me, soothed me, whispered that I had nothing to fear, told me that what was about to transpire had been planned by Her, long before my mortal birth. Assured me that I trod aright.
And so I stepped into the room, that reeking room set back from the main alchemical laboratories, to greet my new Pontifex.
When I saw him, my jaw dropped: it was none other than the former Friar named Daltry.
"Kneel, priest," he commanded. But I ignored him and looked to the smallish figure strapped to a table in the corner of the chamber.
"Who is this upon the table, Pontifex?" I enquired of him.
Daltry scowled at me. "Brassbelly's assassin," he sneered. "She was caught near the beach by a patrol. The hounds smelled her out."
"Who is she, and who sent her?"
Daltry waved his hand dismissively. "An agent of the Tauren, from her equipment. She speaks very poor common, but her Orcish is passable and her Tauren extraordinary. Insofar as a language of beasts can be called 'extraordinary'. But enough. I intend to interrogate her further, and require your assistance. Rest assured, an incompetent like yourself would be my last choice, but it seems that there are few options left. Shall we begin?"
I looked at the figure again, and tried to ignore the sudden rash that erupted on my left arm. She was human, and young. Covered in blood and filth, she was breathing in quick, deep gulps. She appeared to be delerious.
"Torture her? For what? So you have deduced that she was sent by the beasts to assassinate an important military figure. And she did it. Certainly the motives are self-obvious and the particular personalities involved unimportant. If there are other agents, she would scarcely be told of that. What else remains, Daltry?"
Rage swept his fat features, and he shook his staff at me. "Pontifex! You will address me as Pontifex!"
"As you command," I bowed slightly. "...Pontifex."
He seemed appeased, and motioned to a brazier in a corner. "Good. Heat the brands. We shall begin with those. I shall return shortly."
Daltry swept from the room.
I looked down at the pitiful figure strapped to the table, and began to ponder.
And then, I removed her bonds.
She looked at me, delirious. Already I could see the rash spreading across her face, and feel the heat of her fever.
I could feel my own fever rising, as well. We were both of us finished. This, I knew. But my hatred for Daltry was still puissant and palpable.
We did not speak. She was scarcely able. But when I removed her straps, and handed her the dagger from her pile of gear that was piled nearby, she looked at me with puzzlement before she slid from the table and melded with the deep shadows.
I closed my eyes, and wondered whether she would take my life. I was unconcerned. The murmurs of Skassax filled my skull. All was well. All was well...
The door creaked open, and Daltry entered as I snapped my eyes open.
He looked at me, looked at the table, and was about to say something when a sharp, silver point of steel suddenly appeared in the center of his chest.
"Daltry," I whispered, "I am pleased to watch you die."
And he did.
The waif behind him, wavering on her feet, looked at me with a wide, bloody grin.
"What is your name?" I asked her. Already the room was spinning and the corners were giving way to darkness.
"Shawkf'n", she answered.
That is all I remember of the days prior to my birth.