The Wandering Path: A Chance of Redemption

It had been a few days since Vord had been brought back to the Stand, but it seemed like nothing had changed. He had just exchanged one set of jailers for another. He might be free from the Lich King's grip for now, but the Grin was keeping it's eye's on him. He hadn't tried to leave the Stand, and he was sure that he wouldn't be allowed to anyway. There was always an officer around him, and he suspected that they were under orders to.

Vord didn't know what to do: His "home" was no longer the welcoming place it had been, he no longer had any allies that he could tell, he was slowly dying from the disease growing from his arm. He could hear the voice of the Lich King slowly growing louder in his head, but the unbearable weight of guilt he felt kept him from falling again. He was close, balancing on a knife's edge, to going insane from it all. There was but one tether keeping him from loosing it, "Vord! That's enough!" Vord paused, he was just about to maim a Grot that had been a bit to free with his tongue, and Vord decided that the Grot didn't need one anymore. Vord was reverting to his uncontrolled death knight state. He felt his mind becoming icy cold, his lust for pain and death starting to become unquenchable, but the voice brought him back to his senses.

He looked over at Xylien, who had her arms crossed, with a hand fingering the handle to her axe, "I said, that's enough." Vord released the rouge, bowing his head in acknowledgment. The rouge slipped into the shadows while Xylien walked up, addressing the rouge. "It's not wise to push someone who's close to the edge as it is. And as for you," looking at Vord, "I'd thought you'd know better, even in your current state." The rouge spoke from the shadows around them, though without giving away his position, "Don't push the greenie, got it." Vord looked up, speaking to the rouge, "And if I were you, I'd stick as close to Lady Xylien as I could. She's your saving grace and the only thing that'll stop me from next time." The rouge cackled, "But Sir, it'll impair me from the task I'm supposed to carry out if I have to follow her all the time."

Vord took a few steps toward the area the voice was emanating from, but was stopped by a glare from Xylien. He sighed, and walked back over to his bunk and sat down, holding his head.

A few more days went by, with Vord resting, trying to overcome the influence of Arthas and the disease on him arm. He was trusted enough to be let out for the attack on Toshley's Station, but was escorted back almost immediately after.

The next day, Vord jumped off his bunk and looked around. The Stand was relatively empty, save for a few members, including Xylien. He looked at her and thought for a moment before asking, "Do you know what happened to my arm guard?" The Forsaken turned to look at the hunter, and thought back, "Ah, yes. we recovered it before we left." And with that she swung up into an alcove in the ceiling, and Vord heard her rummaging in something. She swung back down, holding the piece of armor. Vord looked at it, and asked, "And the helm?" She frowned, "Uhhh, I'm not sure. Let me see." She lifted herself back into the alcove, and again he heard more rummaging, this time the sound of small glass items breaking and curses accompanied it. Xylien swung back down, holding the battered helm, "Here it is, sorry it's so damaged." Vord took it, and inspected it, "It looks like some of the armor is missing, but at least we have the main pieces." Xylien nodded, understanding what the hunter was saying. Vord looked to a dark area of the cave, "The place where I meditated still largely unaffected?" Xylien nodded again, "Yes, it's still the same."

"Good," said Vord, "I think I'll go get changed back. I stashed some spare armor back there just in case." He started walking to his stash, but only got halfway when Bellmont shadowstepped behind him, drawing a blade across the hunter's throat. Vord started to move instinctively towards the tant? in the back of his belt, but stopped, not wanting to give the rogue any more reason to kill him. "Is there something you want, Sir?" asked Vord. "I want to know where your loyalties lie, orc." Xylien and the other Grinners, hearing the commotion, walked back to where Bellmont and Vord were. Xylien sighed, and sat down along with the other Grinners, who were already starting to place bets on what they thought was sure to turn into a fight. "What do you mean by that, Sir?" Vord said, trying to remain as defiant as he could. "Yes, that's right, why should you answer to him?" said the voice, "How do you even know if he's truly loyal to this clan himself?" Vord shook his head slightly, trying to remain in control. "I want to know if you're still a pawn of Arthas and his liches or not. I want to know if you're loyalties lie with this clan or not." Vord grinned, "What about you Sir? How do we know you're not wrapped around your Queen's little finger? How do we know you're truly with the clan?" Vord could feel the rogue's glare boring into the back of his skull, and his dagger pressing against his neck hard enough to draw blood. "I am not on trial here, orc. We need all the warriors we can muster, which is why I'm inclined to test you, but I guess one less won't matter."

Vord thought quickly, 'Well, might as well listen to what he has to say.' he concluded. "I'm listening Sir." the pressure lightened on his neck lightened a fraction, "I want you to bring me back a phylactery of a lich." Vord thought a moment, "And if I refuse?" Bellmont tightened his grip on the dagger, "Then I'd have no problem taking you to the Undercity and letting the Inquisitors take you in. I'm sure they'd be delighted to have another subject to question." They heard a small noise issue from Xylien, who had curled into a ball and was rocking slightly. Bellmont sighed, and dropped his hand, "What will you do?"

Vord looked between his friend and Bellmont, thinking for a bit. 'If I stay only to help them, it's better than wandering about looking for an existence.' Vord nodded, "Alright, I'll head out as soon as I change." Bellmont leaned against the wall, waiting as the orc changed around the corner. As Vord finished, he looked at his death knight armor, and then put it in the chest. 'This might be useful later' he thought. He came around the corner and saw Xylien still huddled over. He walked over, while reaching in a bag at his waist. He knelt down, and reached out for her hand, "Here, a friend gave this to me a long time ago, and it's brought me luck. Perhaps it'll do the same for you." Xylien uncurled a bit, and looked at the coin, "Was he a brother in your clan?" Vord laughed a bit, thinking back on the troll, "I guess you could say that." Xylien studied the coin a bit more, while Bellmont cocked an eyebrow at the two of them. Vord stood up, "The next time you're in trouble, just send word." She nodded, and Vord started walking towards the exist, while calling his tiger to him. He knelt, scratching Stripes behind the ears, while looking north, towards the Plaguelands.

Vord let out a sigh. He'd never thought that his betrayal of the Grin would allow him to live, much less prove himself to the clan again. He was in the Western Plaguelands again, outside of Andorhal. He looked at the mindless Scourge, deciding on how best to cary out his mission. He knew that there was another lich in that area that acted as a messenger between Araj and Naxxramas, and that this was the part of his continuos rounds that he would be near Andorhal. So he took a look at his surroundings, and found a pocket of rather heavily armed Scourge. 'That's where he is.' thought Vord. His instincts told him that that was where the lich was, and all he needed to do now was punch his way through. He patted his tiger once more. He wasn't sure if Stripes had 'forgiven' him for his actions while under the control of Arthas, but the tiger was still loyal, was still standing there by his side. Vord smiled to himself, and took out his bow. "Well," He said, "Let's go kill some rotters."

Vord took careful aim. He sighted his target, and was checking everything that might interfere with the arrow's flight. Wind, the strength of the pull of his bow, the armor on his target, he took it all into account and fired. The arrow shot into the skull of the Scourge, piercing it's helm and doing sufficient damage to dispatch the undead for good. Stripes charge in and started ripping zombies to shreds, while Vord followed, pulling out his sword that caused his foes great misfortune. They were halfway through the group of undead before the lich took real notice of what was going on. He stood his ground and watched as his small horde fell before the might of the hunter and his tiger. When the last zombie was nocked down, Vord brought his boot down on it's head, crushing it. "Well well, it's the Scourges own Betrayer." the lich sneered, "Come back to make amends? Or perhaps you feel so guilt ridden you want to be put out of your misery." Vord narrowed his eyes, assessing the situation. The closest Scourge were quite a bit away, and this lich wasn't known to be too powerful. But why was it acting so defiant at the moment of it's doom? He was by no means a hero in the Scourge, which meant that something was amiss. The lich drifted to the side, "So you think they'll let you come back, welcome you with open arms after this? Yes, I know why you are here. One of your officers sent you to prove yourself, and you've come here to destroy me. But what makes you think that you can destroy me any more than you could destroy your clan mates, or Kaylish?"

Vord's blood froze. The lich laughed at his expression. "Oh yes, your former apprentice is still alive. I guess we should thank you for providing us with an almost complete Knight. Now she has but to prove herself, and her training will be complete." Vord's mind reeled. How could she still be alive? He had watched as Xylien cut her down. Had blocked her attack as to leave her vulnerable. He shook off the shock long enough to form words, "Then, who is finishing it now?"
"It is Master Fenris. He was the best choice, and took to his new mission with great interest. He always hated you, and this was just one more way to prove to himself that he was better than you." the lich drifted a bit closer, "You and your friends made a grave mistake when you ran away. She has not forgotten who it was that struck her down, and who had helped the blow land. And likely, she'll not be in the mood to forgive either." This snapped him back to reality. "The time for talk is over. Get ready to finally face death." The lich would have smiled if he had lips, "I believe that was my line."

The lich cast a quick frostbolt, but missed his target. Vord nocked an arrow, one with a special poison in it. The arrow hit the lich, and he felt his power wane. Another arrow hit, this time cutting him off from his magic. The lich hit the ground, his levitation spells silenced. For the first time since his days running from the Kirin Tor, the lich felt fear. Vord nocked another arrow and walked up to the lich. "This time, you won't come back. Give my regards to Hell." He loosed the arrow into the lichs eye, and a symphony of screaming voices issued as the lich dematerialized. Vord stooped down, picked up the phylactery and put it in his bag. He looked around, checking to make sure he still had a way out. He called his mount and had his tiger scatter. "If I get taken out trying to get back, at least he'll live." he thought. And with that thought, he rode towards the road, toward the Grin. Towards home.

Vord's ride back was long to begin with, but the information he got from the lich made it longer. When he finally got to the hideout, he tethered his worg to a post and walked in. He reached in his bag, took out the phylactery and tossed it in Bellmont's lap, narrowly missing Xylien's head in the process. Xylien looked at Vord indignantly, "Watch where you throw things." Vord said nothing, but stopped to see what Bellmont would do. Bellmont inspected the phylactery for a moment before tossing it in a fire. Another symphony of screaming voices came forth, but this one was more chilling and had an obvious effect on the Grinners in the hideout. Xylien looked around, "I think my hair stood on end, what was that?" Bellmont looked at her but addressed the whole of the Grin there. "That was the sound of a lich's soul being destroyed. And we have Vord to thank for supplying us with one."

Vord could feel the eye's boring into him, but he simply walked past Bellmont and Xylien and kept going into the dark, shadowy area in which he liked to meditate. He knew that the others wanted to know where he had gone to get the phylactery and who he had to fight, but he didn't feel like telling a warstory for their sake. His journey and fight had caused his arm to hurt more than it usually did, and he needed to sort out his thoughts. 'It's done.' he thought, 'I've done what I was asked to do, but there's some much more that need be done. How can I do it without going against my orders?'

He gave a heavy cough. He felt up his left side, and felt a large cold patch on his upper chest. He took of his shirt and looked. The infection had spread to his chest, about halfway across his pectoral muscle, showing black dead skin. 'Easy,' he thought, 'Relax and breath.' He started to meditate, to clear his mind as to better focus on his situation. 'If she really is alive, then she'll be coming after me. But first I need to find a way of curing this disease. And for that, I need to speak with Her.' He thought of the tauren, and smiled. 'If she couldn't find a plant to cure this, then there's probably no one who can.'

The next few days went by, with few changes. Vord noticed that the disease that was afflicting him was spreading, and his time was running out. In the base of operations that the Grin was using, Grinners were constantly coming and going, especially the Sythegar. Vord was sitting at a table, with a few Grin scattered around when he suddenly started to cough rather violently, coughing up a bit of blood as well. "That doesn't sound good."

Vord looked up to see who had spoken. Oroki had just walked in and had heard the orc coughing. "Are you well?" she asked. The orc shook his head slightly, "The infection is spreading, and I was just about to seek you out. With your knowledge of herbs, I figured you'd be able to find a cure for it." Oroki frowned, "It's not as simple as chewing on a special blade of grass. Let me look at it and I'll see if I can't find a recipe for a potion to cure this, but be warned that there might not be one." The orc nodded and removed some of his armor, revealing the large dead spot of skin on his arm and chest.

After a few minutes, Oroki sighed and reached in her bag for a book. "It looks like I should be able to make a potion to counter the effects, But I will require Plaguebloom, and some from the area you received the disease would be the most effective." Vord pulled his shirt and armor back on, "How soon do you need it?" Oroki glanced up from her book and over to Vord's shoulder, "From what I can tell, you don't have too much longer." Vord stood up, looked around him, gathered the rest of his gear and started walking towards the door. Oroki's gaze followed him as he went. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked. "Time's running out, and I need to get tha-" He started into another fit of coughing, some blood coming up again. "You aren't going anywhere in that state." she started, "At least not alone." She eyed two grots sitting at a small table, talking amongst themselves. "You!" she pointed to the grot named Psylich, "You're a healer of sorts, correct?"

The Forsaken stood, and offered a bow, "Yes Mistress, I am." Oroki nodded, "We have need of your skills. Go with Vord and keep him alive until he gets back. I understand you have a good understanding of plants as well?" Psylich straightened up, "Yes, Mistress." Oroki nodded, "Vord is looking for plaguebloom. Help him find it." Psylich bowed again, "May I request bringing Sharkfyn with us? I doubt she'll like sitting here while I'm off helping Master Vord." Sharkfyn nodded, but said nothing. Oroki looked between the three in front of her and liked the idea. "Very well."

Vord looked at the two grots, "Before we move out, I want you to know. There is a good possibility that I will turn on you while we're looking for this plant, and if I do, your orders are to deal with me permanently." Sharkfyn nodded again, while Psylich bowed. "Understood Master." Oroki looked at the new group, and addressed them, "Vord, you are to go and retrieve this plant. Get it and come back here, no sidetracks." Vord nodded. "And to you two," this time looking at the grots, "You will make sure he does that. If he does loose control over himself, you are to bring him back, even if it means knocking him out and dragging him back." the two grot saluted, with Psylich adding another bow. Vord looked the grots over a final time, "Well, let's get started then."

"Tha Plaguelands!" whispered Sharkfyn to Psylich, and there was a hint of glee in her expression. The priest nodded in satisfaction and rubbed his boney hands together. Then, with one last meaningful glance at Oroki and a slight nod towards her, he followed Vord's stumbling form from the cave.

They stood at a sloppy attention outside, while Vord looked them over.

"Well, let's get started then." Vord's voice seemed to have lost its usual gruff air of authority. Sharkfyn quickly drew her hood over her face to hide any traces of the smug gratification she felt at Vord's discomfort.

Outside the gates of the Undercity, Vord turned again to inspect his escort. "Where's Psylich?" he demanded of Sharkfyn.

"E's gettin' water or sumfink." She shrugged. Vord frowned and glowered at her. "Ah..gettin' water - boss," she amended. At that Psylich emerged, "All ready, master." He briskly patted his pack, and exchanged a sly glance with Sharkfyn as they mounted up and followed Vord's wolf to the Bulwark.

Vord waved airily to the guards, his eyes fixed on some unseen goal ahead. A hoarse voice rang out.
"Ho! Who goes there!" Argent Dawn guards stepped into the path, snatching at the reins of the mounts.

"Out of my way!" shouted Vord angrily.

"And you are...?" High Executor Derrington stepped up to Vord's wolf, resting a hand on its neck.

"I am Vord of The Grin!" thundered Vord, his manner and voice regaining some of its old fire. "Let me pass!"

"And the business of the Grin in the Plaguelands is...?" Derrington's hoarse rasp was hardly above a whisper, but it seemed to have commanded the attention of the whole camp. Others gathered round, watching.

"This is my business. Not The Grin!", Vord replied, dismissively. Derrington stood still, waiting, as Vord looked at him closely for the first time and noted his rank. "I am wounded,"he said gruffly. "I need a plant from the Plaguelands to aid my recovery. I am here with Bellmont's permission."

At the mention of Bellmont's name, Derrington's hand dropped from the wolf and he stepped back.

"And these?" he asked, gesturing towards the grots hunched over on their mounts.

"They are just grots. One is a herbalist of sorts. The other..the other is merely a blade for extra security."

Derrington peered at Psylich and Sharkfyn, noting their weapons and armor, then nodded and stepped back.

"Let them pass!" He rasped.

The party gathered up their reins and spurred their mounts on into the yellow murk of the Plaguelands.

The gates of the bulwark where pulled back down as the travelers passed into the corrupted landscape.

High Executor Derrington began to think before barking an order, startling the Forsaken messengar.

"I want a letter sent to the Nightlord now, I believe he is currently in council with our Lady's court in the Undercity. Also note that I've sent one bat to the Blightcaller." instructed High Executor Derrington, writing several letters quickly as he spoke.

Sealing the two letters in an envelope he handed one to the Forsaken messengar, who quickly mounted his horse and sped off on the road to the Undercity.

High Executor Derrington then beckoned over four Forsaken bat-riders.

"Sergeant, I want you to take three of your men and keep an eye on our travelers. To the fastest and most subtle of you carry this to the Marris Stead with great haste. Notify me of suspicious activity, and engage with lethal force if any treasonous occurs." ordered the High Executor, handing the letter to the Sergeant.

The Sergeant handed it over to the mounted Deathstalker, who quickly took off into the air, flying off to the Marris Stead. The three armored bats rose off the ground and flew off above the trees, keeping on eye on the Grin.

((guess I need to pick up the slack a bit huh?))

Vord thought all the situations over again, and rechecked his contingencies. He knew that the possibility of large scale Scourge movement were relatively low, since the armies of the Undercity were keeping them in check. 'The Blightcaller has been doing an excellent job' he thought.

The party rode on into the eastern plaguelands, and Vord could hear the howling of the various plagued hounds and worgs in the area, but the howls weren't the only sounds on the air. Vord could hear the sounds of wingbeats in the air, and he was sure that Sharkfyn heard them too. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw one of the riders quickly bank away behind tree cover. Vord added the riders to his contingencies, and didn't like the results much.

Vord wasn't a master of subtlety, but he wasn't stupid. If the Grin party was attacked, they might get reinforcements from the Bulwark, but they were being followed for a reason and Vord didn't like the idea much. He kept on riding but soon banked off the road into a dense pack of trees. 'This should make for some cover.' Vord dismounted and looked around him, then headed towards a heavier part of the tree cover, where brush was scattered about. He could hear the grots dismount and start to follow him, and he had the distinct feeling that Sharkfyn was putting a hand to her dagger.

"Well, lookie who the wind blew back? Last I 'eard, you were takin' out liches and dyin' from tha' bite ya got those weeks back." The voice cut through the air like a dagger through worn cloth. Vord turned in surprise and saw his old "rival". The Death Knight had pale skin and pure white hair, his face encompassed by the wide smirk he wore, glacier blue eyes glinting in the low lighting. He spoke with an Irish brogue, and spoke with absolute faith in his powers to the point of arrogance. Sharkfyn turned and drew a dagger, and Fenris looked at her. "Now now, I didn' come ta fight, so you can put tha' away." Vord had beaten Fenris before, but didn't like the odds much as weak as he was from the bite, so he motioned to Shark to lower the blade. She obliged, but Vord could she was questioning the unspoken order.

Vord turned to Fenris again, "So what are you up to now? What would Kel' Thuzad think of letting a traitor walk free?" The Death Knight grinned. "Oh, the Master's givin us special orders, and attacking you would violate 'em. Ya see, I'm not here ta bring ya doown, at least not yet." He looked skyward. "I'm here ta take out some resistance that's been interfearing with another operation." A roar cut through the conversation, a roar that Vord knew well, the roar of a frost wyrm. Vord looked to the sky as well, and saw three wyrms racing through the air, pieces of the wyrms coming into view through the tree cover.

"And now tha' that threat's been dealt with," the sound of screeching bats, horrified yells and roars from the wyrms elevated above the Death Knights voice, causing him to wait before speaking again, "I believe we can continue without running the chance of bein' over'eard." Vord grimaced. He knew that the batriders stood no chance one-on-one against frost wyrms, and he had no plan for this kind of situation. "You said "us" earlier, who's the other?" Vord asked already knowing the answer. the Death Knight took a moment to relish what he was about to say, closing his eyes and enjoying an opportunity to further torment the being he hated most in existence. "Surely you've 'eard tha' Kaylish was placed under me. Kel' Thuzad felt that after ya failed to complete her trainin, tha' a real Death Knight should finish her trainin. She's even been givin' your old mission, in addition to healpin' me track an' kill ya."

Vord's mind flashed to Xylien, his friend. 'Like hell that's going to happen' he thought grimly. "And the rest of my clan?" Fenris frowned at Vord. "We got no quarrel with most of 'em, and tracking down all your sorry hides just to add 'em to our walls isn' practical when we've got...better targets." Vord started to ask about these targets, when Fenris wised up. "An' with tha', I think our little talk 'ere is done. All I 'ave left ta say is, watch ya back, 'cause soon there'll be a knife stickin' out of it."

The Death Knight darted into the shadows, and Vord could hear his mount riding off to his next objective. Vord turned to his grots, Sharkfyn watching him intently while Psylich was rummaging in the scrub a few feet away. Vord walked a few feet to where Shark and Psy were. He glared at Sharkfyn, as he knew Psylich was smart enough to do as told. "What you've heard here is classified from here on out, understood? You say nothing, not even to Bellmont." Sharkfyn nodded, but Vord wasn't too convinced. Psylich came to the other two, holding a plant. "Did you hear what I told Sharkfyn, or do I need to repeat myself?" Psylich looked up briefly, then went into a bow. "Of course master, I'm to speak not a word of this." "Good." Vord replied, looking at the plant in the Forsaken's hand. "I gather that you've found what we've been looking for?" Psylich nodded, "Yes master, I have. If this is all you are looking for, then we are able to return to the clan."

Vord walked out into the clearing around the grouping of trees and looked at the carnage of what was once the batriders and their steeds. "Yes, we'll head home, but first we're going pay a visit to the Blightcaller and explain this." Vord walked to the bloodied lumps, and started to rummage through the bags and the bodies for any sort of identification.

Kaylish's sword flashed out, but stopped mid stroke. What are you doing? the voice in her mind screamed, everything screamed at her to step forward, out of the shadows, and slay the failed death knight. it was the plan after all, Fenris's departure insured Vord relaxing, so that she could step out and finish this part of her task and move on to the one who had disabled her.

And yet she hesitated.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? the voice screamed, and she almost finished her stroke, instead, she stepped back into the shadows and sheathed her sword before climbing on her mount and riding off after Fenris, I thought I had been noticed by the others. I don't want to fight all three at once without help at hand. she replied to the voice, and then, careful not to vocalize it internally, she whispered "You get one free, vord, that's all I can give you, next time, someone dies."

"You hear what they said?" asked the bat-rider, landing next to a Deathstalker who had hailed down one of the riders.

The Deathstalker lead them to a small Forsaken camp. It had been lightly fortified, but Scourge and Crusader alike would not tread carefully around it.

Though at first they appeared to be but standard divisions of their Lady's forces, as the bat-rider grew close it was clear from the gold and red adornments proper that these Forsaken where members of two well-known chapters of the Forsaken's finest.

The member's who's armor where outlined with a hint of gold where Imperial Guardsmen, members of the 1st Lordaeron Guard, lead by the Nightlord. The ones who's armor was lined in red where members of the 2nd Lordaeron Reclaimers, lead primarily by the Blightcaller.

"An honor it is to run into veterans so far from here. I am humbled by your presence." the Bat-rider said.

The Imperial Captian grunted in ammusement,
"Better be more honored we're actually doing our jobs. Sent Deathstalker Craven after your targets. Those bats fly smoother then a the shell of a hawkstrider egg in these lands, and your moving it around as if it where a kodo." hissed the Imperial Captain, the Bat-rider Captain opening his mouth to retort, but then simpily lowering his head in shame.

"Seems they talked to a Death Knight. Quite casually too. If it where my job at stake, I'd take one captive and leave the rest to the wolves." said the Imperial Captain.

The Bat-Rider Captain nodded and took off, the other two bat-riders falling on his wing.

"Get ready for a pass. Seems they have been consorting with an enemey. Use firebombs to clear the trees, afterwards use rifles. We need to take at least one alive." ordered the Bat-Rider Captain,

"Understood, sir." said the two bat-riders as they lowered altitude and and began to sweep past the forest, chucking the firebombs down toward the trees as they flew by.

The bombs let off a large expolosion of fire, causing multiple trees to catch aflame. With the plagued land long ago sucking out all the moisture, the plans quickly where lit up.

Having enough area now clear the Forsaken Bat-riders put on their goggles, allowing them to see through the thick black smoke.

They swooped around again, taking a second pass and firing widly at Vord, him being the largest targets.

"Other too down there appear to be Undead, not sure if their Scourge or Forsaken." said one of the bat-riders.

"Open fire on the Orc first. I'll have one of Thrall's on my hands before it's stained with the blood of my own countery-men." barked the captain as they went around for another pass...

Meanwhile...

The courier dismounted his horse and ran down to the Apothecarium, the Dreadguard's moving their swords together to prevent the courier from running into the Royal Quarter.

"Your reason for being here?" asked one of the Dreadguards.

The courier took a few heavy, tired breaths before answering,

"Message from the Bulwark for the Nightlord. Most urgent." said the courier.

The two Dreadguards looked at the courier before letting him pass.

"If this turns out to be a simple supply request, it'll be your head not ours." hissed the Dreadguard as the courier sprinted down the path.

"The process of the new plague goes well, mi'lady." said Chief Apothecary Faranell as the courier ran in.

"Bah, you say that every-time, Faranell. It's been five years and we've yet to see any major sucess." hissed the Blightcaller.

"Keep your tounge in check, Nathanos." ordered Queen Slyvanas,

"Now, Grand Executor Bellmont, your plans for using the Grin for the crippling of Stormwind?" said Slyvanas, turning to Bellmont.

"It would seem we have a visitor." hissed Varimathras, looking at the frightened courier.

"This better be good..." muttered Bethor Iceshard, glaring at the courier.

"I know not, good Queen. High Executor Derrington sent me with great speed. Directed to the Nightlord with most urgencey and to the Marris Stead too..." started the courier before he realized the Blightcaller was in the room.

"Speak with the Blightcaller... though this seems problematic. Reguardless, I give you your message, sir." said the courier, walking up to Bellmont and handing him the letter.

Bellmont scimmed over the message then glared,

"The audacity...." hissed Bellmont,

"Lord Blightcaller, if I may out of curiousity ask who you put in your stead?" asked the courier, turning and bowing to the Blightcaller.

"Archmage Raminus." replied the Blightcaller,

"Ahh, intresting that should be." said Bethor Iceshard to himself, ammused.

"Silience." demanded the Dark Lady, all other voices comming to a drastic hault upon her command.

"Grand Executor Bellmont, what is the problem, has the Plaguelands been breached by friend or foe?" asked Queen Slyvanas.

"That is debatable. The one who has passed has been involved with the Scourge in the past. It would suprise me little if he has been working with them this entire time." explained Bellmont,

"Are they expendable?" asked Queen Slyvanas,

"I would shed no tears of his passing, yes. Feel free to kill him if you so desire, my Queen. Though I doubt the Arch-Mage is up to the task. The infiltrator's skills are formidable to the likes of him." said Bellmont,

"Very well. I still have need of you four in this discussion, Varimathras, venture to the Plaguelands and slaughter these intruders." commanded Slyvanas.

Varimathras grinned, he had grown bored sitting in this city for day upon day. True the Nathrezim hated a fair fight more then anything else. But tormenting the weak before vanquishing them, was a pleasure seldom enjoyed in these days.

"With pleasure, my Queen." said Varimathras, sweeping around and consuming himself in a shroud of purple smoke, a small flock of bats comming from it and flying out of the Undercity toward the plaguelands.

Sharkfyn noticed it first. The wind did not ebb and flow through the trees in the usual way. Instead there was a continuous oncoming rush of sound. She dismounted and vanished, with an urgent, low-voiced "Stop!" to the others. Vord didn't seem to hear. He galloped on, while Psylich immediately slid off his mount and found cover by the road. She crept over to join him.

"You 'ear that?"

Psylich nodded grimly. The beating of wings, many wings, drew close. And then in a swirl of purple smoke Varimathras towered before them.

"Stand forth!"

The familiar stabs of pain pierced their minds.

"Dreadlord Varimathras!" Psylich stepped forward and bowed low. "'Tis I, your humble servant Psylich".

Sharkfyn stepped out of the shadows and saluted. "My Lord", she muttered, staring straight ahead.

Varimathras swept up into the air, peering down at them.

"So, the heretic..and Deathstalker Sharkfyn. Report!"

"We met with Fairbanks as you instructed, my Lord," Psylich offered.

"Not you, Apothecary! I address the Deathstalker!"

Sharkfyn drew back her hood, as Varimathras landed before them.

"A coupla Deathguards saw us." She flinched slightly.

"Yes. They did. This is...irritating unto me."

"Fairbanks is lookin' fer a cure for the Undead."

"Yesss", hissed Varimathras. "As I suspected."

"'E finks Psylich and me want a cure. 'E sent us to fetch 'is book wot he got off them Dalarans."

"Treason!"

Sharkfyn nodded. "'E's daft as a brush though. 'E babbles rubbish."

Psylich bowed again. "If I may, my lord?"

Varimathras glared at Psylich, then nodded. "Speak!"

"My lord, Sharkfyn is unfamiliar with our terms. The High Inquisitor conveyed some formulas unto me. It appears he obtained them while..ah..interrogating the Dalarans."

Varimathras eyes narrowed. "Repeat them to me!"

Psylich recited several alchemical formulas, but before he had finished Varimathras roared with laughter. Startled, Sharkfyn stepped back.

Varimathras' gaze bored into the pair. "The man is an ignorant fool! His victims played him for one!"

"So it seems, my Lord", Psylich nodded. What could have been a slight smile flitted across his ragged features.

"And the book?"

"Yes....the book." Psylich slowly wrung his hands together. "..That could be of more value. It contains the original experiments on the blood of the Scourge, and perhaps concerning the formula which the Cult of the Damned used to spread the plague. He lost it at Stratholme during the ambush."

"Find it and bring it to me! Tell nobody of this!"

Sharkfyn skittered three steps to one side and coughed with a sound like snapping twigs. "Sir, Bellmont is.."

"Silence! Tell no one!" The demon slowly grew larger, and smoke poured from his eyes. Needles of pain shot through the Forsakens' heads. They both fell to the ground clasping their skulls.

"Now to this other matter." Varimathras resumed in his normal tone. "Report!"

"Vord met wiv Deathknight Fenris. They was friends I fink. I didn't 'ear wot was said but 'e ordered me not to kill 'im."

"And you obeyed him?" thundered Varimathras.

"Yes sir", said Sharkfyn, barely audible. "We was ordered by tha Grin officer ta watch 'im. an' kill 'im if he acted funny and turned on us. Nuffink was said about killin' no Deathknights."

Flashes of purple light sizzled around Varimathras hands.

"Indeed," the demon muttered as if to himself. "Indeed."

Vord had found identification of the batriders with their badges of which unit they were in, and collected them to take them to Marris Stead. He and the grots mounted up, and traveled for a bit before what sounded like wind rustling the trees came to sound a bit odd. He heard Sharfyn mutter something, but the Forsaken always said things to one another so he dismissed it before riding on. After about 3 minutes of hearing nothing else but the air passing as he rode, he wondered why the two grots were so quiet. He looked back, and saw his answer.

"Damn Forsaken, you can't trust them any farther than you can throw a dragon." he cursed. He looked around to see if they had stopped nearby, as they had been quite pre-occupied by looking at dirt and rocks throughout their journey in the plaguelands. He sighed, and resigned himself to riding alone to the Stead. "I'll report their absence to an officer when I get back, he thought, "It's still a bit too early to punish them on my own." He rode the rest of the way to the Stead, and to his surprise, saw that the Blightcaller wasn't there.

"What business do you have here?" Raminus inquired. Vord dismounted and started walking up to the mage when two guards flanked him and stopped him in his tracks. "I came to report that three of your batriders have fallen at the hand of the Scourge." answered Vord as he held out the badges to another guard. "I figured I was doing right by the Undercity reporting this, but it seems I was mistaken." Raminus looked at the badges, and then gave them back to the guard dismissing him. "What you say might be true, but you also might have killed them yourself and tried to cover it up. We know much of your treachery, nothing escapes the ears of the Dark Lady." Raminus nodded to the guards, and Vord felt the them tighten their grip on his shoulders. Raminus grinned, "We'll keep you here until the Blightcaller or the Nightlord say otherwise. Send word to them immediately, tell them we have our guest in secure hands."

The guards lead Vord to several cages. They used the cages to bring specimens back to the apothecaries and Deathstalkers for studies and combat practice, so holding an orc would work just fine. Vord sighed as he saw Sakumo being tied to pole, and thought of his situation. All of the outcomes would either get him killed, brand him a traitor, or likely see him incarcerated or used as a guinea pig. He sat back in his cage and waited. If Bellmont came, he had a slim chance of getting out of this by using information as a bartering tool. He didn't like the idea much, but it was the only way to keep everything intact.

He sat In his cage for hours when he hear the deep wingbeats of a riding bat. He mind raced as he heard Raminus giving the briefing and the guards saying, "....He's this way."

"Ich do hope für your own sake, mädchen, that your buisness here is für königin und königreich. If not then your schicksal is in the hands of the Nachtführer." hissed Raminus, glaring at Vord at from the darkness of his hood.

"His zorn is schlechter then that of the Trockenfäuleanrufer. Though nothing is as schelchter then that of the Dread Lord's. Reguardless, I'd still pray for mercy, gefangener." warned Raminus, unaware of the large amounts of Dalaranian he had slipped into the conversation.

Meanwhile...

"Very well, Grand Executor. Seeing as you and the Blightcaller have explained well enough the situation I shall dismiss you to the Plaguelands. Keep an eye on this buisness, and on Varimathras... particuarly the latter. I fear I've given the demon to long a chain, if so, shorten it by my demand." ordered Queen Slyvanas.

Bellmont and Nathanos bowed deeply and walked to the Bat-Handlers.

"Truly I must wonder what Varimathras is up to. The too other Forsaken that entered my territory concerns me deeply. Varimathras has agents more loyal to him then Slyvanas, if we find them, we must deal with them properly. Lest we be in another civil war." commented Nathanos,

"I think not, Nathanos. Dreadlords are the most deceptive creatures perhaps in existence, people have gone their whole lives unknowingly being their pawn in a scheme so long and complex it's unfathomable by most. Slyvanas is no fool, whatever ace she has up her sleeve it must be indeed be powerful." responded Bellmont as the two approached the bat wrangler, each being mounted up in a moderatly armored bat and sent off.

Soaring above the clouds of Tiristfal they took their own route,
"Theres to much land to cover to find Varimathras without tracking skills, and even then it's difficult at best. We'll most likely need the aid of others. Perhaps the Farstriders?" suggested Nathanos as they flew toward the plaguelands.

"The Elven Rangers will be our best source. Your the first and currently non-elven Ranger Lord, and I know of no Dark Rangers who'd be avaliable." responded Bellmont,

"Very well, head to my stead. We'll send the mage to fetch aid from our Blood Elven allies. I'll track this disturbance personally, I could get a few more bat-riders but with the sudden increase in gargoyle presence that may be less productive." said Nathanos,

"Understood, good luck." said Bellmont as he pulled on the bat's reigns, causing it to a barrel roll away from Nathanos and fly upward in an arch, letting out a eerie screech as it descended through the clouds and toward the Marris Stead.

Meanwhile....
The Blightcaller lowered below the clouds, peering at the ground. Suddenly two Lordaeron Reclaimer Bat-riders rode up to meet their commanding officer.

"Sir, we've spotted Varimathras in the nearby area. With to Forsaken believed to be involved of the murder of the naga. Permission to watch the execution?" asked the Batrider,

"Negative, but your timing is impecable. Let us ride, the Queen smells something... darker afoot." comanded the Blightcaller.

The two bat-riders suddenly locked up in disposition and lead the Blightcaler to the area. They then broke off as the Blightcaller ordered silently. His bat drifting silently below the clouds, listening in on the conversation.

((Note: Yes, Raminus is German. I decided to do that recently, so I hold no offense with the latest post. Just a heads up for later.))

Bellmont's bat touched the ground, and he dismounted as Raminus and tow of his guards walked up to brief Bellmont on the happenings at the Stead while the Blightcaller was away. As Raminus continued, Bellmont looked around to take in what forces were there, and started organizing what all he would give Raminus to carry out. "We also found an orc who wa-"

Bellmont cut him off with a quick glare, and the mage fell silent. "It matters not to me what a fool of an orc did out here, and it concerns me not what petty activity the Scourge has been conducting in this small area." Bellmont hissed, "I have more important things to address so if you have any information of relevance than I suggest that you get on with it before my patience runs thin." Raminus swallowed and continued. "Ja Nachtführer, it's about the orc. It's the same orc that betrayed your clan for Kel 'Thuzad not but weeks ago."

Bellmont stopped where he was and thought for a moment. "Where is he?" he hissed at the guards. "He's this way." The guards took him to where the cages were, and stopped where Vord's cage was. "Leave us." said Bellmont to the guards.

Vord looked at Bellmont through the bars, and knew that the undead blade master's mind was accessing the situation. He could see the gears turning in the Forsaken's head, and didn't like what he saw. "This is not good." he thought, "I'd bet my tiger he's going to execute me right here." After what seemed like an eternity, Bellmont broke the silence first. "What are you doing here, and why did you say you were under my orders?"

Vord thought for a moment and decided that the truth, while it wouldn't set him free, would be the fastest means of his demise. "I'm under orders from Oroki to gather herbs for an antidote for the disease that's spreading from my arm. As for saying that they were your orders, my presence in these parts as of late has caused a bit of suspicion, and regretfully to succeed in my mission a small amount of deception was required. No one in their right mind would question your orders, and I had to use that to my advantage."

Bellmont jolted his hand, hitting cracking Vord in the head with a heated prong of iron.

"Your foolish in the way you think that I care of why YOUR here in such detail, Vord. The fact of the matter is Psylich and Sharkfyn where with you and recent messages support the theory they killed two Deathguards near the Scarlet Monastery. What they are working on I cannot say but it would it's imperative that I learn of what their doing as soon as possible." hissed Bellmont,

"Mein lord, tun think this involves Hoch Inquisitor Fairbanks?" asked Raminus, throwing a suspicious eye over Vord.

What followed was a short conversation in common between the two Forsaken. The Imperial Guardsmen looking at Vord with distaste in the meantime.

After several minutes of pointless bickering the two seemed to agree, Bellmont mounted up and glared at Vord,

"You will obey, or you will die. Xylien's friendship with you will not stay my hand forever. But for now I must try to find him personally... you will aid in this." said Bellmont, riding off.

Raminus then stepped up, motioning for Vord to follow. The squadron of Forsaken Guardsmen following them with a unison march that gave the illusion their numbers where much greater.

"Folgen, 'Vord'." said Raminus, speaking his name carefully as to not miss say it.

"Das Nachtfurher wishes for du to live, be thankful fur that. With that said, das does not mean that du will not have dein own part of das deal to hold up." said Raminus as they walked,

"This ist between du and me, but ich think das Inquisitor has some form of a cure for undeath." whispered Raminus, his tone becoming less professional with every word.

"However, ich digress. Du will have to aid in finding das Forsaken du brought with you. While du are in mein company, do not stray far. Das guards will not take kindly to it." he drew his finger across his throat, to show execution for fleeing.

It was on old prayer book, one that he had written himself some many years ago during his training. Small, hastily scribbled, battered and tattered from years on the road and nights hidden away in awkward places, away from the prying eyes of tutors and clergymen. At times he used it for meditation, other times for prayer. Other times, it found a purpose in augery. And tonight, this was the priest's intent.

The fire threw the light into flickering torrents of chaos, shadows played across the pages, casting itself, occassionally, into Sharkfyn's eyes. They would shine as she looked on, steady, unmoving.

"The stones have selected for us the following passage:" Psylich intoned with exageratted reverence.

"And the One was All, And the One was Not. And the One, being Not, fell into Madness. And Skassax came forth from the One. And this was the Beginning."

"Now 'old on. 'Ow can this 'un be alls and nuffink at tha same time again?" Sharkfyn interrupted. "You said before, but I ferget."

The priest only glanced at her, and continued:

"And from the One issued forth the ancients, and the titans, and the nightmares of Eld. And this weakened the One, that the One did fadeth: therefore Skassax did reach out her hand, and did slay the creatures of the heavens, that the One might be nourished from her bosom."

He closed the book, and Sharkfyn scratched her head.

"Obscure, to be certain. The One, no longer being All, sewed the seeds of its own weakness. But in that weakness, it would create the conditions whereupon it was strenghened. And it would be through reliance upon another."

Sharkfyn shook her head, slowly. "I fink yer gettin dafter then ever."

"I suspect we will need help in this endeavor, if we are to play out our roles in Varimatherus's sport. We, you and I, would meet certain doom if we ventured into Stratholme on our own."

"Like 'oo then? Bellmont would come for our 'eads if he knew. Varimatherus will want us dead, anyway. You ain't gonna 'ide that kind of thing from the likes of 'im."

The priest nodded, and tucked the book away into a satchel. "Perhaps. But I suspect that success at obtaining the book would go far toward staying his hand. It is a common trait among his kind that success, however obtained, is admired... and success through deceit is even more respected than that obtained while merely doing as one is told."

Sharkfyn glared at him. "An 'oo in tha Grin do ya fink ya can trust den? An' what will they fink when they git Varimatherus breathin down ther necks, eh?"

The priest sucked on his teeth in silence for several moments before answering.

"There is one. When you have a moment alone with Path, tell her that we must arrange to meet in secret on a matter of some importance. It will have to be vital that none other knows whence she goes, or with whom she meets. Just in case..."

"Just in case we haff ta..."

"Yes," Psylich affirmed. "Just in case."

Vord had been moving with Raminus and the Forsaken squadron for about an hour. He's been assigned to point as to track the two Forsaken that Bellmont had sent them after. He back tracked the group to the clearing where they had met Fenris, and he started tracking from there. It wasn't long before he saw where the two had broken away from him, and that's when he spotted the hoof prints. 'These prints are larger than any mount, and there's something sinister about the area around it.' he thought, 'Almost like a demons taint.' He studied the tracks for a bit longer before it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He strung and nocked his bow, as he looked around him to see if there was any evidence as to where to dreadlord had gone to, but could see nothing other than some tracks leading a few feet away, then disappeared. His actions did not go unnoticed as the guards drew their weapons and had them trained on Vord, while Raminus studied the orcs face and posture, judging on whether he was a threat or not. "Du found something?" Vord looked up to Raminus, and nodded. "I still have the tracks of the Deathguard and the Apothecary, but I've found a new set of tracks, a Dreadlord."

"Scheisse!" Raminus uttered, as he thought on what next to do. "Du!" he pointed to one of the guardsmen, "Du will go back to das Stead and take a bat to find das Nachtfurher immediately." Raminus looked back at Vord, "Can du see where the Angstlord has gone?" Vord went to where the tracks ended, and saw that the hoof prints faded, as if the weight of the dreadlord dropped as he moved. "It looks like he dissipated at this point, and I can't track something that doesn't leave tracks." he looked around him, "However, I can give you clues as to the direction he headed in. The branches of that tree is missing some leaves and pieces of it are broken, like an airborne swarm flew through it."

Raminus pointed at half the guards still remaining, "Du will go in that direction and see what you find. If the Nachtfurher meets up with you, follow his command." The guardsmen bowed and set off, as Vord started tracking the two Forsaken again. The tracks got harder to find as they went, obviously the two 'renegades' didn't want to be found. 'The tracks are well hidden, they know what they're doing, or at least one of them does. Too bad they're using old techniques.'

They went a ways farther, and were out so long that the sun set, making the trail that much harder to find. 'These are fresh.' he thought as he looked at a partial footprint and a broken tree branch 'They're close.' He looked around to see where the next set of tracks lead when he saw the distant light of a fire. He motioned silently for the rest to follow and crept up on the camp.
"..It will have to be vital that none other knows whence she goes, or with whom she meets. Just in case..."
"Just in case we haff ta..."
"Yes, just in case."

Vord knew that it was his targets in the camp, and they were planning something, but now wasn't the time to speculate on this new information. Raminus had already spread the remainder on the squadron into a formation the surrounded the small camp, and moved to give the order.

The small band of Scarlet Crusaders marched along the path from Hearthglen to Tyre's Hand.

"Stop..." said one of the Crusaders suddenly, looking around carefully.

The rest of the Scarlet Crusade's party stopped as well, looking around for the slightest movement.

"What is it?" asked a Scarlet Medic, looking around suspiciously.

Without warning the Scarlet Crusader whipped around and lit the small pocket of shadow between a tree and a rock, finding nothing.

The rest of the party relaxed.

"Your to tense... we know theres been no major activity here for weeks." said the Scarlet Crusade Medic with a light chuckle.

The Scarlet Crusader sighed in relief, however their entire party froze when words from no visible provider in a loud in clear tone.

"Sepelio sanctus, stultus spiritus supplicium." spoke the voice. It wasn't in a particuarly hateful tone but the Crusaders couldn't understand to any degree of complete comprehension, then again the speaker could barely as well.

His knoweledge of the language spoken by the Priests of the Holy Light where generally unknown to him.Though the message would be clear soon enough.

Bellmont appeared behind the Crusaders.

"Evening." he stated in a calm tone in the common lanuage, nodding and keeping his hand stayed.

As he expected the Scarlet Crusade struck first. He ducked the blow from a Scarlet Berserker, drawing his longsword with one swift movement and slicing through the small slit in the helmet, decapiting the Crusader.

From there a Paladin rushed at him, ducking the blow he picked the axe from the slain ravager off the ground, stricking the Paladin in the back. The heavy war-axe easily digging through the weak-spot into the plan and through the back of the Paladin's spine.

The rest of the Crusaders then charged at him, however they where soon preoccupied by swift movements, mirrior images striking them.

They hit frantically at the illusions while Bellmont shifted around, cutting the party of Crusaders to peices in the confusion with little to no resistance in a whirlwind of blades.

Bellmont then sheethed his weapons and stood as the mirror images faded into him. Seven or eight Crusaders laying dead at his feet, it was hard to tell due to the large amount of dismemberment.

Kneeling to the ground he gave a slight prayer to the Crusaders he had slain. He felt a bit bad for the act, they where young, probally joined for saftey. It mattered little, the Light would recongnize the true and banish the impure.

Bellmont then continued, letting out a loud whistle, Bayne galloping over to his postion. He mounted his stead, patting it on the head and going into a light gallop.

As the sounds of bats and a dark whirlwind spun around him he sighed,

"Ah, Varimathras... to what do I owe this pleasure." asked Bellmont, annoyed he'd been detected so easily.

"Leave this area at once, the Lady wishes for your council in the Undercity. Immediatly." demanded the Dreadlord, once again swinging into a vortex of shadows, a swarm of bats flying off toward the Undercity.

"My current command comes from her you imbecile. Dreadlord must be running out of lies, Light know's he's used everyone known to most mortal races by now..." he muttered to himself as he continued down the path.

Suddenly Bayne took off in a direction without Bellmont's hand, though at first in shock he quickly realized the reason.

Another Skeletal Horse moved in the distance, this one was not of any adornment used by the Forsaken.

"Good boy." said Bellmont, patting Bayne as he followed the Death Knight.

Bellmont reached for a few objects as they approached, at first grabbing his throwing axe but then shaking his head, doing the same at an adamantium grenade.

He then drew a vile of crippling posion and his crossbow, dipping a black arrow in it as he armed it, aiming steadly as Bayne approached.

"Evening." Bellmont hollered, pulling the trigger and launching the arrow at such force it peirced the plate, seeping the posion into the Death Knight's cold bloodstream.

The Death Knight growled, grabbing his wound and causing the his horse to turn. Bellmont had done this many times, as had Bayne, he needed to not give command. Bayne suddenly stopped, launching Bellmont forward into the air toward the Death Knight.

Lifting his sword in a cleave to attack the airborne Death Knight, Bellmont disappeared into smoke, re-appearing behind the Death Knight and strangling them with the hilt of his longsword.

The Death Knight fell from his mount, and Bayne slammed into it. The two Undead Steeds ramming and kicking at eachother as their riders clashed.

Drawing another longsword Bellmont brought his blades in a scissor-like stance, catching the Death Knight's blade as it came down on him.

He locked his two swords to the Death Knight's and lead him to the side, causing the Death Knight to stumble and fall from the weight of his own blade.

Almost instantly the Death Knight was on his feet once more, ready to face his attacker, yet he saw nothing.

Taking a few steps the Death Knight looked around carefully, preparing an attack.

"You underestimate my abilities..." hissed the Death Knight, striking down and causing a ghoul to rise up and pull Bellmont to the ground.

"No, I'm afraid you, underestimate mine." laughed Bellmont, kicking the head of the ghoul off and smirking.

The Death Knight began to chant as the ground around him began to bulge with the fallen ready to serve... however it was then he heard a loud and quick-paced beeping.

He looked down between his legs in time to see a large explosion. Fire drove him up and shrapnel tore through his armor.

Looking up the Death Knight saw a cloud of shadows, as it faded Bellmont looked down on him ammused, holding a longsword to his chest.

"Who are you and what are you doing here, say a word that's not Orcish or Common or so much as look at your weapon and I'll make sure they won't be able to put you back together this time around." ordered Bellmont...

Meanwhile...

"Jetzt!" barked Raminus.

The various Forsaken sorrunded the camp. Forsaken Crossbowmen armed their weapons as the Vanguards stepped forth from all directions, sorrunding the camp.

"Guden Tag... fellow Forsaken... du are under anhalten on das command of das Nachtfurher. Ausfall to comply... will result in deine zerstörung. Attacking us will be betrachtet un krieg-crime if not a willful act of krieg or beweis of an alliance with das Scourge." hissed Raminus, speaking to no one in particular.

The Crossbowmen held their fire, as the Guardsmen held their chage, all awaiting the order.

Psylich stood up slowly. Sharkfyn stayed crouched, assessing the situation around her with narrowed eyes. Her eyes rested on Vord, and she arose and faced him.

"Where was you?" she asked. "I told ya ta stop cos I 'eard somethin' funny."

At the same time her fingers flashed to Vord in Grin battle language. He gave a slight nod, while Psylich swept the group with a cold gaze. Her claws closed one by one.

4 3 2 1.

She vanished and reappeared behind Raminus with her sword at his throat.

Vord whipped his bow up and around, pointing unwaveringly at Raminus heart.

"Order them to stand down, or die!", he roared.

Raminus began to give the order to open fire, and Vord gave Sharkfyn a silent order to take him out, but leave the mage alive. She drew her blades across his throat, severing his vocal chords, but not drowning him in his own coagulated blood. Vord fired his faux arrow, and it bounced off Raminus' skull, the dull tip knocking him senseless. Psylich grew a sinister aura around him and shouted, "Lashtal!" and sent the guardsmen running in fear and madness. Vord unsheathed his sword and cut Raminus' hamstrings and achilles tendons, immobilizing him. "I won't kill you." he said to the severely injured mage, "You didn't kill me when you had the chance, so we're even." And with that, he brought the pommel of his sword to the mage's temple, knocking him clean out.

"Quickly," he said two the grots, "We need to get out of these lands before Bellmont discovers what we've done." The two nodded, and started running out of the camp as Vord finished laying a trap to give them more time to escape. The group ran, heading south, than west to get out of the plaguelands. Vord destroyed the groups tracks as best he could, doing everything he could to buy more time. They eventually took the southern road into the Alterac mountains, and took a path into the hinterlands. From there, the boarded a boat taking them south, to Stranglethorn.

When they got on the boat and into their cabin, Vord looked at the grots, this being the first time they stopped long enough to speak. "Raminus told me something about a cure, what is going on?" The two grots began speaking to one another in gutterspeak, deciding on whether or not to inform him of their going on's. Eventually, Psylich took a deep breath and begun.

Meanwhile...

The Death Knight cackled, Bellmont soon whirled out of the way, barely dodging a hail of fire from skeletal archers.

The Death Knight stood, brushing off his armor, cackling.

"I am Lord Fenris, and you are a foolish little Rogue who happened to get the better of me... but now that the worm has turned, inform me of who you are so that I may create a proper headstone to put under the walls when we hang it from the Undercity." spoke Lord Fenris in an over-confident tone.

"Me?" Bellmont laughed, "I am the servant of the Dark Lady, the wrath of the Dread Horde, I am the blade in the night that brings you your doom, I am the Champion of the Dark Lady, the bane of the Alliance, and the reckoning for the Scourge. I am the Nightlord." announced Bellmont,

Lord Fernis was given pause,

"Bah! You think you scare us? With every man who falls we gain another number. We are Death, WE ARE FOREVER, ETERNAL! The Scourge will not stop, cannot be stopped, until you, and every other pathetic lifeform who dare stands against us is erradicated. Our Lord will bring the very sky crashing down upon your heads. The battle you fight is meaningless, Forsaken dog, it will be a pleasure ending your life." cackled Lord Fernis.

"A rousing little speech Death Knight, but I can assure you... the pleasure will be all mine."

While timbers creaked and lamps flickered, Psylich silently regarded his superior while thinking of what he could safely say.

Several scenarios for delay, or even misdirection, slid through his mind. After a moment's consideration, however, the risks of lying were judged to outweigh the rewards given the recent turn in events.

"This is a very...shall we say a delicate situation, Master," the priest began.

"I didn't ask to be patronized with the obvious," Vord snapped. "Speak!"

Sharkfyn and Psylich exchanged uncertain glances.

"You can begin with Varimathras," the hunter growled. "I'm sure we'll figure this out from there, grot. Every dirty detail. Won't we?"

Psylich nodded. Indeed, the scope of the situation would be impossible to conceal at this point.

"The Dreadlord recruited us for an errand, Master," Psylich began. "We were sent via a secret entrance into the Scarlet Monastery to speak with a little known denizen therein...Fairbanks. A former High Inquisitor of the Crusade who was afflicted by the scourge. Indeed, I find great irony that the Scarlet fanatics shelter one of the undead in their stronghold."

The priest began to cackle, but a sharp glare from Vord encouraged him to continue.

"Fairbanks seemed to have a book, since lost. Within that book there may be hints to a formula for the reversal of the plague that the Lich King brought upon the land. Varimathras was desirous of that tome, and sent us to find its location from Fairbanks. We were under explicit instructions that word of our presence there would not survive with any observers. And now that the location of the book has been hinted at, the Dreadlord hath commanded us to recover it."

Sharkfyn stared at Vord with an unreadable expression. "We was tole not ta tell noone. Varmatherus, 'es gonna be mad when 'ee finds out we tole ya, boss."

"Truth," Psylich affirmed. "I've no doubt that the Dreadlord plans to kill us to cover his actions once the book is recovered. But you, Master...his actions around your knowledge, should he divine it, would be most unpredictable. After all, the implications around this book are of a proportion that cannot be overspoken. Should a cure be found for the plague, I have no doubt that it would mean the certain enslavement of the Horde, if not an extermination of our races. At the very least, the Forsaken and the Blood Elves's alliance with the Horde would be at an end. Varimathrus' desire for the book may indicate a rebellion within the heirarchy of the Undercity. Or he may be desirous to avoid these catastrophic outcomes."

Vord unsheathed a dagger, and slowly put the tip to the priest's left eye. "I'll be hearing the rest of this, now, grot."

There was a faint snapping sound when Sharkfyn released a catch on her own scabbard.

"Proceed. If your fellow grot moves, I'll have both your carcasses heaved over the side when I'm finished with you."

Psylich glanced to his compatriot and tried to smile - an action so long neglected that flakes of leathery flesh fell from the corner of his mouth. "Stay your blade, Sharkfyn. Master Vord is being more than reasonable thus far."

Vord moved the tip of his blade a fraction of an inch closer to the priest's eye.

"You understand, Master Vord, there are several possibilities in play. The first is that the Night Queen sent Varimathras on his current course of obtaining this book. Possibly to destroy it. This is the most favorable of possible scenarios. However, this does not mean that Varimathras will not keep and use the book on his own. Dreadlord though he be, he holds no intrinsic loyalty to the Horde, and if the Night Queen were to fall, his oath would be finished and fulfilled.

"Another possibility, Master Vord, would be that the Night Queen seeks the book. Not to destroy it but to use it."

Vord stared at the priest, and said nothing for several long moments. Then: "I overheard you speaking of a meeting in the woods. You will tell me who you planned to meet with."

Psylich and Sharkfyn exchanged glances.

"Path, Master."

"And what does she know of this?"

"Nothing, Master."

The dagger went back into Vord's boot, and the hunter stood.

"I've seen grots smashed, bashed, impaled and burned. I've seen them hung from bulwarks, buried alive and once I even saw one used for bait to keep a full elven war party entertained while we snuck around the back side. But you two...I ain't never seen a grot in the kind of trouble you've gone and got yourselves into."

Path stood at her post overlooking the Grin camp silently. Not the sheeting of the rain or the rich smells of decay distracted her finely tuned senses as she watched over the Western approach to Stonard with a patience many would envy.

A ghostly flicker in the trees below her made the Elf smile slightly, the spectral cat that approached was her dearest friend and one of the few things left in Azeroth that could bring even that much expression to her face.

"Bansidhe," she greeted the soul of her sister, "What have you seen out there in the swamp my Sister?"

An image filled her mind, in the wordless way her sister always communicated, three figures moving furtively through the swamps. Two of them, Forsaken, were well known to her, the third, an Orc, was less so, though also a member of the clan.

"The way they move speaks of secrets, sister," Path murmured, "Let us find out what it is they wish to keep hidden."

Motioning the cat to take point ahead of her, Path slipped into the rain-soaked night, a deeper shadow in the gloom.

Fenris was not ignorant of the Nightlord. He had heard how he and the Blightcaller had been leading Sylvanas' armies in the Plaguelands, and had killed many unwary and unskilled death knights in the process. But Fenris, while he had been caught off guard, was not a stranger to the intricacies of a blade. Fenris brought his blade to bear as best he could, fighting the debilitating poison as best he could. 'If I don't find a way to even the odds, this Forsaken will earn another commission.' Fenris rushed forward, closing ground between the two fighters. Bellmont merely grinned, and faded into the shadows with a sinister chuckle. Fenris turned on his spot, moving little from his position but enough to keep his blind spot in constant motion. He heard the crunch of boot on dirt and whirled around to see Bellmont launch himself at the death knight. 'A direct attack?' Fenris thought while bringing himself in a counter stance, 'His haste is going to be his doom.'

As Fenris brought his sword around to parry Bellmont's blades, his runesword passed through Bellmont's image. 'WHAT?! AN ILLUSION!' Fenris turned just in time to see Bellmont closing withing 2 feet of a lethal blow. Fenris shifted, not being able to dodge completely, but keeping Bellmont from scoring a kill. Bellmont snarled, and flicked his left hand, cutting a jagged slash in Fenris' side, while his right hand dropped to try and block the runesword from going into his thigh, but to no avail. Fenris reached into a bag at his belt, and pulled out what looked like an egg, crushing it in his palm. Fenris brought his palm to Bellmont's face letting fly the cloud of chile powder right in Bellmonts eyes, blinding him. Bellmont fell back, trying to distance himself from the death knight, when he heard the foot falls of the skeletal warriors brought forth earlier by Fenris.

"HOLD!" commanded Fenris, and the warriors stayed. Fenris grabbed at the wounds on his back and side, and realized the truth. "As much as I'm loathe to," he said to Bellmont, "I'm letting you go. I can't beat you with the injuries I've incurred. But know this, we WILL finish this." And with that, Fenris ran to his battered mount and rode off. Bayne trotted up to Bellmont, and looked him over. Bellmont, his sight returning already, swung up onto Bayne and patted his steed's side, "Good boy, take us somewhere safe." and Bayne charged off.

Vord, Sharkfyn and Psylich landed on the eastern shores of the Swamp of Sorrows. They looped north, then west to avoid Thrall's camp of Stonard. The Grin had a camp in the area from when they had occupied the cave, and kept it as to watch Thrall's forces and to keep a force from chasing after the Grin into the portal. A few grunts and grots were left, with a couple of raiders to act as messengers and guerrillas. Vord knew that they would be safe with the Grin, but wanted to keep contact with others to a minimum, at least until they rejoined the main force in Outland. They went a ways farther before they heard a slight rustling in the grasses and something moving through the pools of water.

"And what are you three up to?" asked Path, Bansidhe standing by her side. Vord whirled around to meet the voice, but paused when he saw who it was. "Path," he nodded his head, "We're on our way to regroup with the main force." Psylich looked between the two raiders, holding his tongue, while Path looked them over. "Is that all?" she inquired. "All that you need know." answered Vord. Path shrugged, knowing that to press it would get her nowhere, "Then I guess I should return to my post." Before Vord could answer, Psylich stepped towards her, "Mistress, I must speak with you." Vord shot him a glare, "Not now grot, it's not safe here." Path looked between the two, seeing the obvious. Vord motioned to Path to follow. "We're going to need you to come with us."

"Unable to win a fight without that army of yours, Death Knight? No matter, your judgement will come by my hand soon enough. We Forsaken sometimes wonder if there is a Heaven, Death Knight, but we're certain theres a hell. And they'res a spot waiting for you there." yelled Bellmont as he rode off on Bayne.

Indeed the presence of the Scourge had increased some amount, though it mattered little.

As he rode toward the Bulwark he wondered of the consequences of a cure.

"The alliances with the Horde could become strained... but at the same time they already are. We Forsaken have become a differnt nation... in this time. If a cure where to be found... humans would be seperated for the first time since before the founding of Strom." muttered Bellmont to himself.

"Would we be any less trusted? Doubtful. We are looked at Pariahs now by both sides. The Alliances has damnded us, they have spat upon our name. We came to them, as free men and women, sick men and women who had stood by them in battlefields, sheltered their citizens when the Orcs invaded and in our most desperate time they called us monsters." hissed Bellmont to himself,

"They told us our very existense was a crime against the Light, and heance they excommunicated us. Not from just the Church of the Holy Light, but from our humanity. They called us monsters, they beat us back into the darkness. Secretly, they support the Crusade though they mock if publicely? For what?!"

"They are worse then the Crusade. The Scarlets are overt in their hatred, blind with it though they may be as well. But they have no secret intentions, no hidden agenda, they wish for a purging and that is it. The Alliance hides this... desire to erradicate. And simpily call us monsters."

"Am I no longer human?" asked Bellmont to himself, lifting up his hand and removing his glove.

His hand was cold, his skin a pale white. Claws extended like razors from the tips of his fingers. No pulse beat in his arm. But is that what it was ment to be human?

To have a pulse? To bleed red blood? Or was it more? If so then he was human... though this form refused to show it.

"The Orcs can abandon us, the Elves will not, the Dread Lord will fall, the Alliance will fall, Lordaeron will once again be united. The world, perhaps will be at peace. If a cure is found.. if not."

Bellmont glanced over at Apothecaries working near a cauldron as he spoke to himself quitetly.

"The Forsaken, will unite this world... one way or another. It is up to the other races... if they know it or not.... to choose if it will be united under day or night... life or unlife... cure or plague."

"The death knell has rung... for either all life or unlife. It seems it may be in my hands as to what it choses...."

Vord, Sharkfyn, Psylich and Path rode into the Grin base. They were finally home. After all the crossing, double crossing, secrecy, and parts played in near revolutions, they were home. During all this, the Grin was the only constant, and Vord was glad to be back. In the coming days, Bellmont would come back, but would keep what happened to himself, and they would all fight in the battle of Wildhammer Keep, and witness the end of their chieftain. They would all play parts in the struggle to escape A'dal's influence, Sharkfyn and Psylich would receive their commissions as raiders of the Grin, and Vord would finally be free of the control over him by Arthas. But after all this, one thing kept lingering in Vord's mind, something he could ignore no longer.

((And this part is now done. Thanks much to Sharkfyn and Psylich, who helped keep me reminded about the thread, and to Bellmont, for helping me along in those few places. I look forward to RPing with more of you in the coming chapters.))

*The old priest scribbles with frantic energy into the book*

"Worms. Worms, everywhere! Burrowing through me, wriggling behind mine eyes! If I lie down, they smother me. Should I stand, they cover me! They tickle my nostrils with their tangled tails and oozing trails. No respite, no mercy. In my bed and in my head! Eating, multiplying, squirming!

And one day, Varimathrus hath promised me, they shall grow. Grow as unto snakes. Serpents. They shall bloat themselves upon my corpse until I explode, disappear, fade away, leaving only the worms. The Dreadlord, displeased with me, hath uttered that this and only this shall be the one mercy shewn unto me.

Oh, but he came to me, you see. Came to me as I was alone, in the dark, in the swamp, among the crocodiles and spiders and worms. With but one hand the Dreadlord lifted me up. He laughed at my fear and surprise, and held me aloft by my head.
With but a gaze did Varimathrus still every struggle, protest, or hope to resist. And spake unto me, he did. He spaketh dark, foul things. Venomous things.

I called out to Skassax, but She did not answer. There were only the Dreadlord's eyes, burning, eyes full of worms. And the worms, they speak to me, now. Always whispering. Telling me to fulfill my task, accusing and cursing me for breaking my sworn silence, for telling Vord of my instructions. Telling me how delicious I am, and that they relish the day when there will be nothing left of me to devour.

I try to tell Sharkfyn about the worms. She does not see them, she does not hear them. She looks at me with suspicious, slitted eyes and shakes her head. The Dreadlord hath blinded her to them. He hath blinded all eyes to them, save mine. Mine, he allows to see them. For he is an angered. Skassax is lost to me. I no longer feel Her.

No, the Dark Lady is far, far away. She does not care. There are only the worms now. Just the worms. "