World of Warcraft: What Remains [IC]

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

What Remains

---

OOC Thread

IC Thread

---

Arthas, the traitor Lich King, has fallen. The armies of the Scourge crumble in the frozen wastelands of Northrend, as unbeknownst to the rest of the world a new Lich King has risen - for there must always be a Lich King. The threat of the Scourge removed, the forces of the Alliance, Horde, and the joint effort of the Argent Crusade return to their homes. The Goblins of Gelbin Mekkatorque retake parts of their home, Gnomeregan, as the Echo Isles are reclaimed by the Darkspear Trolls.

Yet there is no time for peace; Deathwing, the Worldbreaker, returns to Azeroth in full force, shattering entire regions of the world. The Forsaken, led by Sylvanas Windrunner, assault the Kingdom of Gilneas at the orders of the new Warchief of the Horde, Garrosh Helscream, ending in an eventual truce with the Worgen of Genn Greymane joining the Alliance. The island-city of Kezan is destroyed, resulting in the Goblins of the Bilgewater Cartel throwing their lot in with the Horde.

Those that remained with the Argent Crusade, meanwhile, have been busy, too. The remaining Crusaders have pulled into Lorderaen's Plaguelands in an attempt to rid this area, too, from the remainder Scourge. Thus it is that you, a valiant warrior of the Argent Crusade, find yourself here, in the Eastern Kingdom's Plaguelands as you prepare to rid it of the mindless Scourge for once and for all. With the Alliance and the Forsaken waging war, and the Scourge leadership here still relatively intact, it will prove to be a hard job...

---

Western Plaguelands, Ruins of Lordaeron
Southwest of Light's Hope Chapel

The cart traversed the road, its passengers sitting rather uncomfortably on the wooden benches as it rode over the cobbles underneath its wheels. It was one of three; the other two followed suit. All of them were filled with Argent Crusaders, be they new recruits or grizzled veterans, headed for a small camp several miles to the north of Corin's Crossin, where they would hear the exact details of their next assignment.

"...and when he finally returned, his entire jaw was missing!" the Forsaken Apothecary, known as Fabien Vile, sat in front of the Blood Elf Death Knight Norine, telling some sort of story. "Oh, those Deathstalkers." He shook his head. "I had to sow on another one, taken from some useless body I had laying around." Distressingly enough, the Apothecary was to serve as the small unit's medic - although he wouldn't enter the combat itself. "Ehh, the sack of bear's guts he brought back were worth it, though." Norine nodded, and looked at the others sat in the cart, some of them looking rather uncomfortable with the Apothecary. "Hmm. I'm sure they were." The Death Knight's glowing blue eyes turned back to the Apothecary. "I'm sure you'll have much more to tell us later. For now, though, I'd rather know if you have all the supplies you'll need." Again, the Forsaken shook his head. "I need some more innards, and an eyeball.." the Apothecary looked in one of the many bags he had with him. "Medical supplies." He looked up. "Oh. Erm, yes, I think so.." Norine looked towards the cart's driver. "Good, now shut up. Driver, how far?"

The driver looked slightly disgusted as they passed a pile of burning corpses, made from the recently slain undead, the fire starting to consume their bodies. "Not much more, Death Knight. We'll be there soon enough. Just sit back, and relax... Undead or not, you'll probably need all the energy you can get soon enough, I'd say, whatever this mystery assignment may be..."

[The blood ravens]

(Changed Alex's appearance.)

Alex listened to the apothecary's story while running a sharpening stone along the edge of his axe. He didn't look up once. He wasn't particularly happy working with forsaken after their invasion of Gilneas, but he had already signed up, and didn't want to back out now.

Alex put his axe away by the time the cart passed the pile of bodies. The smell of the burning corpses made Alex snarl in disgust from the wretched scent. "They smell even worse on fire..."

[The Doom Legions]

Drammush was relaxing, actually capable of appreciating the sight of the burning pile of corpses. He sniffed in deeply.
"You smell that? It's the smell of victory... Hahahah!" He laughed cruelly.

He sighed. "I love fighting these undead, no matter how much you kill, there's always more not-so-fresh meat for the grinder, don't you agree?" And he looked over at the Worgen...

[The blood ravens]

"There's nothing like hearing the crunch, and snapping of bones with each hit on them. If they didn't smell like an open sewer fighting them would just be that much more satisfying." Alex smiles, slipping his sharpening stone into a pouch on his belt. "The abominations, and patchwerks are the worst. They smelled horrible before I got the Worgen curse, and now.." Alex shuddered. "Let's just say their disgusting scent, and my sensitive nose do not mix well

[The Doom Legions]

Drammush laughed loudly. "Atleast they got plenty of meat to cleave in two! Unlike those fragile skeletons and ghouls..."

[The blood ravens]

"Yeah all that extra bulk means they are no pushovers. After Darius Crowley surrendered the Gilneas Liberation Front to Sylvanas I was headed down towards stormwind, and ironforge. I stopped at this human fort that was under siege by forsaken. I watched a ballista bolt hit an abomination, and pin it to a tree only to have it walk forward, and let the bolt slid through it. Took another two bolts to put it down. Another to the gut, and one to the skull."

[Merodin]

Western Plaguelands, Ruins of Lordaeron
Artanis Sylvari

The cart's wooden wheels bouncing over an upturned part of the cobblestoned path caused the high elf's eyes to flash open, emitting a faint blue glow. For a moment, he was confused, but then he remembered where he was. Some special mission that he'd been called for by Duke Zverenhoff, who'd told him nothing but to get in the cart with the other crusaders. The elf glanced at the cart's occupants. He saw the Forsaken apothecary rifling through his bag of 'supplies', who was apparently their medic for this operation. A choice he wondered not for the first time if had been made as some sort of jest by whoever put this little merry band together. The undead's response seemed to have frustrated the impatient blood elf, whom he was beginning to suspect may have something of a short temper. It was strange to see another of his people here, especially another death knight.

Has she heard the whispers, too? His mind wandered as he watched the elf converse with the driver. His calling...

Even free, Artanis could still feel the pull of the abyss. His nights were plagued with strange visions, ones that he could not tell if they had happened to him or whether he had committed the horrifying atrocities he saw. The worst though, what made him shiver even in undeath, was his voice. He still called to him, whispering in his mind, just out of reach but always there. Arthas.

The high elf shook his head gently, trying to rid his mind of dark thoughts. The fog over his mind lessened, he looked back at the others seated in the cart. The worgen had been a rather surprising sight to see considering what had happened to Gilneas. He had only fought feral worgen in the forests of Silverpine and had never spoken to an 'intelligent' wolf-man before, though the idea of a beast being actually capable of higher thought made a smirk tug at the corner of his lips.

His eyes alighted then on the green orc, who seemed to be reveling in the gory carnage and foul stench of burning rotten flesh. To a death knight, such sights had been common and the smells even homely. But for a living creature to be able to laugh in the face of all this misery.... Perhaps the humans were right in saying that orcs were nothing more than brutish barbarians, locusts that cut down great swathes of ancient forests for their war machines.

His eyes passed over the others in the cart, seeing a few more races, before he finally tired of studying them all. He heard the two discuss, the worgen and orc, which he found somewhat amusing.

Beasts are beasts apparently, he chuckled to himself. No matter the tabard they wear or standard they carry, they're all the same. The orc craved blood and the worgen a fragrant snack. Artanis imagined who would win if he had thrown a leg of meat between the two, making him smile. The Argent Crusade certainly had a way of bringing races together, even if they were supposed to be at each other's throats. The elf decided to break his boredom by speaking to the two. Though no better than beasts in appearance, they were here on this secret mission with him, meaning that they both must have some noteworthy talent to have been chosen. Their outspoken hatred for the Scourge also greatly appealed to him. Reminding himself that they were also supposed to be allies, he decided to treat them much more amicably than he had been thinking of them just before.

"For abominations, I would suggest striking at the back of their neck." he said in a calm voice as if discussing the weather, bending his head forward and indicating with his finger where he'd said. "Sever the head from the spine and it is nothing more than being sure to not be under the thing when it falls."

He tried to remember the proper mannerisms that he'd been taught by the Argent Dawn when he'd joined, unaccustomed to formalities of the other races, aside from his own kind. In Northerend, he'd rarely associated with any outside human or elven factions. He raised a hand in greeting at the two and smiled, speaking Common though his Thalassian accent was noticeable.

"Artanis Sylvari, nice to meet you all."

[The blood ravens]

"The problem is getting into a position to strike their neck. They have 3 arms: one with a chain, one with a cleaver, and one with a sickle. You'd need to be quick on your feet or have a partner draw its attention or you'll be in a world of pain. If they have foot soldiers supporting them it's even worse." Alex glances at the high elf before taking out one of his revolvers, and a rag. He dumps a small amount of liquid out of a small glass bottle, and running the rag up, and down the revolver. "I'm Alexander Armstrong. Served in the Gilneas brigade during the Third War. Fought under Lord Darius Crowley during the North Gate rebellion, and the Forsaken invasion until he surrendered."

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Western Plaguelands, Ruins of Lordaeron

"Abominations! Hah, I could tell you all about those! Hard to make! You see, you've got to get an intact brain to transplant into the-"
Norine gave a fake cough as the Forsaken (or, rather, Argent) Apothecary began to ramble on about the ins and outs of how Abonimations work, and how they're made. Very interesting, no doubt, if you were an Undead apothecary - less so if you weren't.

"Oh, err... Yes, introductions. I would be Argent Apothecary Fabien Vile, your... medic for this assignment. So, in case you die... Well, have no fear - I shall put you to good use!" The Apothecary gave a dry, somewhat sinister chuckle, rubbing his rotten hands together.

"And I," Norine began, looking at the other passengers that sat in the cart, "am Norine Autumnbreaker, of the Ebon Blade." sSe gave a nod to the Elf, wondering wether he was a High Elf, or Blood Elf - it was hard to tell, considering that she, a Blood Elf, had blue eyes in her undeath. "Also a Crusader of the Argent Dawn wjen they went to Northrend." She turned her eyes towards the Worgen, a small smile on her lips. "And also a veteran of the Gilnean War, serving under Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, and the Orc Fleet sent by Warchief Helscream. I have no doubt we shall all go along perfectly fine, no?"

She looked back towards the driver, and could make out their destination - a small encampment, recently established by the first group of Argent Crusaders sent to this place. Small clouds of smoke from campfires could be seen, and the carts continued riding to their destination.

[The Doom Legions]

"Abominations may be dangerous opponents, but they're slow and stupid. A skillful hunter or mage could easily take one out without the meat-pile even getting close. Or in melee, you just gotta move quick. Their brains can't react that fast anymore, haha!

You may call me Drammush by the way, served under Grom Hellscream long ago. I saw him slay the demigod Cenarius, quite a sight to behold. It seems I'm the only one here who never met a Worgen before. What's it like? You know, to transform?" Drammush asked.

[The blood ravens]

Alex spits onto the ground at the mention of Sylvanas. "Sylvanas... The coward who used the plague to route us from Gilneas city even after Hellscream told her not to. We would've gotten our homeland back if it wasn't for that cowardly bitch, and her plague." Alex looks over at Drammush. "It's a fast process. Takes a few seconds. First your arms transform. Your torso, legs, and your head last. It's a strange feeling that's hard to describe. I've only transformed once back when I was first bit in Gilneas city. I can transform back into a human, but choose not to."

[Nuridia]

"Cowardly birch is she? Well are you not cowardly for insulting a person when they are not here to properly defend themselves?" an accented voice called out to where Alex and the others were. An elven young lady stepped out, she was in a red cloak and draped in all leather and chainmail and on her back she had her mage's staff. Her skin was the pale gray blue of the Forsaken and her red hair flowed freely out of her hood. She didn't even bother to hide her nature and would not take kindly to any cad who insulted her queen.

[The blood ravens]

"I'd gladly say it to her face. If Crowley hadn't surrendered when that treacherous bastard Godfrey kidnapped his daughter I'd still be in Gilneas trying to get my home back." Alex glances at the forsaken. "If you had even a small shred of humanity left you'd abhor the use of the plague as a weapon, especially when it's used against innocent men, women, and children." Alex goes back to polishing his revolver.

[Merodin]

Western Plaguelands, Ruins of Lordaeron
Artanis Sylvari

Artanis had never understood before, both in life and undeath, why people felt the need to add bits of their life story to a simple greeting. He'd inquired after this with the Argent instructors, but all he got were quizzical looks and even more confusing answers that he hardly understood from the human priests. The tomes he delved into in the small library at the chapel were equally unhelpful.

He found the apothecary's explanation of the artificial creation of abominations rather fascinating, paying avid attention. He was impressed with the undead's seemingly extensive knowledge on the matter. Being an Unholy death knight, Artanis specialized in the creation of undead minions to serve at his whim amongst curses and plague-infliction. Once Fabien had finished, Artanis offered some suggestions to Fabien on sewing unholy runes into the stitching of Abominations to increase their durability against holy damage.

He looked to the elven death knight who began speaking. It was pleasant to hear the voice of one of his kind again. As she nodded at him, he inclined his head in return. The blue eyes seemed to be studying him, looking for...something though he knew not what. What she said next caught his attention.

"Northerend?" he asked, cocking his head slightly. "Where did you serve, if you don't mind me asking, Norine of Ebon Blade?"

Artanis raised an amused eyebrow at the worgen's comments. "Careful of whom you speak, dog." he smiled, though there was no warmth in it. The Banshee Queen had been the Ranger-General during the fall of Quel'thalas and she had given her life to ensure her people could escape to safety. For this mere wolfman to insult her was highly offensive. After a pause, Artanis reined himself in.

The darkened expression on his face lessened. "Surely, in hindsight, you should see why she did it? It was effective and it ultimately worked, did it not? Complain all you want, but the fact of the matter is that you lost your city because you were outplayed, Alexander."

It was then that Artanis noticed a human, no an elf? No, a half-elf stand and address Armstrong with pointed viciousness. By the staff on her back, he guessed that she was a mage.

A half-elf... he thought. Don't see one of them everyday... It was odd to see a half-elf, let alone an undead one. Interspecies relations were usually frowned on by the elves and humans alike. It seemed Artanis was making many firsts on this trip.

"Interesting, wolfman." Artanis mused, stretching back on the wooden bench to lean against the cart's side rail. "Tell me, did these men, women, and children have the innate ability to transform into worgen?"

The elf shrugged his shoulders, looking back at Alexander. "The worgen have killed more than just a handful of Forsaken and still terrorize the forests of Silverpine. Can't really see fault with the Queen trying to rid off a new infestation of worgen generations."

[The Doom Legions]

"Sure, the Plague is efficient." Said Drammush. "But there is no honour in its use. I rather fight my enemies face to face instead of just throwing some alchemical creation at them from afar. A REAL warrior meets his enemies head on! No fancy toys, just strength, skill and steel!" He shouted as he held up one of his axes.

"But nowadays the Horde and Alliance only seem to care about victory. Both are developing all kinds of new weapons to use for war. Fueled by either science or magic. Back in the good old days the most advanced piece of equipment you would find would be catapults and ballistae! Now there's flying machines, siege engines and all that mumbo jumbo. I sometimes miss the old days..."

[Nuridia]

"I'd gladly say it to her face. If Crowley hadn't surrendered when that treacherous bastard Godfrey kidnapped his daughter I'd still be in Gilneas trying to get my home back." Alex glances at the forsaken. "If you had even a small shred of humanity left you'd abhor the use of the plague as a weapon, especially when it's used against innocent men, women, and children." Alex goes back to polishing his revolver.

"Well I'm not fully human, I never was. And you seem quite sure if yourself. And if we're going to be stuck on a journey with one another we may as well know each other's names. The name's Solveig, what's yours?" the Forsaken half elf asked politely.

[The blood ravens]

"It's not a matter of being outplayed its a matter of using a horrible disease that causes it's victims immense suffering. It's about using said disease on innocent civilians. If you are willing to justify its use what makes you any better than the Lich King? Why would you want what happened to Quel'thalas to happen to any other city?" Alex puts his revolver, and rag away. "Comparing feral Worgens to me, and the other Worgens is like comparing anyone to the death knights. The ferals are nothing but mindless beasts. Much like you, and the other death knights were while under control of the Lich King."

[Nuridia]

"I abhor what the Lich King did. He used me and countless others, and I was not there when the Queen attacked the city. However you do seem to hate us so I cannot go off what you say, for I know not if it's true." Solveig hissed.

[The blood ravens]

"I abhor what the Lich King did. He used me and countless others, and I was not there when the Queen attacked the city. However you do seem to hate us so I cannot go off what you say, for I know not if it's true." Solveig hissed.

"I do not hate the forsaken. I hate Sylvanas for what she did to my home, and I hate Hellscream for pressuring her into attacking Gilneas."

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Eastern Plaguelands, Ruins of Lordaeron
West of Corin's Crossing


The carts continued their way without much trouble, the local "wildlife", consisting mainly of Scourge remnants, staying clear of the roads. Fabien, the Apothecary, listened closely to the Death Knight Artanis as he spoke of unholy runes, able to ward one from holy damage. He made a mental note of it, for when the time - which probably wasn't soon seeing as he was with the Crusade nowadays - would come that he'd make some new Abominations. "Most interesting indeed!" he spoke, eagerly. "We should discuss these things more often, I'm sure it'll result in great things!" Vile heard the Worgen talk about the Banshee Queen - his Banshee Queen - but decided to ignore it... for now.

"I served at the Howling Fjord, fighting the Vrykul alongside the Hand of Vengeance, while later fighting at the Shadow Vault and Jotunheim, as well as Onslaught Harbor, with my fellow Knights of the Ebon Blade, and the Argent Crusade. I trust you fought in Northrend, too?" Norine was still looking for any clear sign as to what kind of Elf Artanis was, but decided against asking him.

"Sylvanas Windrunner," she began, turning towards the Worgen, "is a hero. It was she who broke free from the Lich King, leading the rest of the undead as they escaped from his oppression, preventing them from becoming mindless Scourge like those here, in the Plaguelands. It was she who captured the ruins of Lordaeron from the Scourge and the Dreadlords leading them, retaking the capital and establishing it as a home for all of the Forsaken. It was she who fought to reclaim Silvermoon."

"The Plague," the Death Knight continued, "kills relatively quick, and everything in its path. The fate of all Gilneas was already decided when the Warchief ordered the Forsaken to attack - the way of its death was not. Every Forsaken that dies is an irreplaceable loss. Master Forteski, The Horseman, was slain by in a cowardly trap set up by Crowley, blowing up a mine from afar. There was but one survivor - saved by Forteski in his last moments. Forteski, a brilliant warrior and leader, lies dead. He can not be replaced. It is so with every Forsaken - in their, or our, undead state they can not procreate but for resurrecting more bodies. By using the Plague, the Banshee Queen saved countless of Forsaken lives, saving them from an enormous loss. The Plague was not used to gain victory - I have no doubt the Deathguard could have secured it themselves, for I thought with them - it was used to gain victory, without an even larger number of casualties on our side then needed."

[The blood ravens]

"Arthas used to be a hero too. The beloved prince of Lordaeron who's good intentions lead him to become the greatest evil to ever blight the face of azeroth. While Sylvanas actions following the third war may have been admirable she's walking a fine line. If King Greymane hadn't evacuated Gilneas city in time Gilneas city would've been her Culling of Stratholme." Alex looks around at the environment. "The plague is indiscriminate. It makes no distinction between soldiers, and civilians. Even during my raids deep behind forsaken lines I never attacked forsaken civilians. I ordered my pack to do the same even if it meant impairing our capability to carry out strikes."

[Merodin]

Western Plaguelands, Ruins of Lordaeron
Artanis Sylvari

Artanis smiled at the apothecary's enthusiasm, glad to see someone shared his love for the creation of undead as much as he did. The death knight then nodded his head and said, "I look forward to it, Vile." His smile faded as he saw the Forsaken's face darken at the worgen's comments, ones which made the elf's pride prickle. Thankfully, he was distracted by the elf woman's telling of her crusading.

"That I did, yes. Mostly saw action in Zul'Drak and Icecrown, though I was posted in Dragonblight for sometime. Zul'Drak was a nightmare, practically besieged on all sides day and night. Icecrown was even worse."

The death knight noticed the elf looking at him strangely again. "Is everything alright, Norine? You look like something's on your mind."

After conversing with Norine, Artanis took interest in the orc's comments, the blue glow of his eyes turning to the green-skinned hulk of a creature.

“You wear your honor like a suit of armor, Drammush... but all it does is weigh you down and make it hard for you to move.” commented the death knight, recounting when his sister had said the same words to him. It had been during the Troll Wars, so long ago. They had been ambushed by a small war band, easy enough to deal with for the two of them. When they had killed all but one of the barbarians, Artanis lowered his sword as the last troll surrendered, tossing its crude axe to the ground. The Blood Knight had turned his back, not wanting to kill a defenseless enemy. His sister on the other hand had had no such principles to limit her and he watched as she threw a dagger threw the troll's right eye as it was in mid-lunge to stab his back with a blade he had concealed. Evalin had saved his life that day and the words she had said stayed with him.

He wondered where she was now...

"As do I, when the orcs weren't reaping the land of all fruitful life." the death knight leveled his eyes back at the orc. "Personally, I think the humans were right to intern your lot." He gave a small jut of his chin at the worgen. "Only mistake they made was not killing you all when they had the chance."

The orcs had caused so much death and suffering when they had arrived through the dark portal. They had never been intended for this world and they had destroyed the edges of the forests of Eversong when they had allied with the Amani trolls. His hand gripped tighter in his lap. The elf took a few calming quiet breaths before his clenched fist relaxed.

Hearing Alexander address him now, Artanis leaned back in his seat, crossing a leg over his knee. "Arthas used the plague to raise soldiers, the Queen's merely kills. And," the death knight added pointedly. "any other city matters little to me. Especially, one infested with worgen."

"We were never mindless, Alexander. We were always awake, never able to hide ourself from what we did." Artanis raised his hand and shut it tightly into a fist. "Our minds were dominated, melded to his will. You?" the elf gestured at the human with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "It is in your very nature, your very essence is feral. It is only a matter of time until your sanity finally decays and you revert to your true form."

The death knight adjusted his bracer as he continued, "And if I recall correctly, all of Stratholme had been infected by the plague. What Arthas did was both merciful and practical. He rendered an entire city's worth of Scourge soldiers null with the least amount of bloodshed. After they had changed would've required many more lives to be lost."

He finished fiddling with the piece of armor and looked up at Alexander. "As admirable as that may be, wolfman, therein lies another reason. You are attacking Forsaken forces. Your kind are now an even bigger threat in her eyes."

For Artanis, he thought this Horde and Alliance shit was ridiculous. There was a much bigger issue that needed to be dealt with and this polarization would only make it an even steeper uphill struggle than it war before. But he was not going to sit here and let some human speak ill of one of the greatest High Elven heroines that ever lived, she and her sisters.

[The Doom Legions]

"Then would you have us all degrade to honourless beasts? I was at Draenor, you know, before Ner'zhul blew it up and turned Draenor into Outland. I saw my race discard honour. Look what it did. Gul'dan sold out our souls to the Burning Legion for a small scrap of power, we turned on one another, nobody could be trusted. Sometimes not even your own clanmates. We barely survived those times. If we hadn't come to Azeroth our entire race would've died out. Too bad Gul'dan was still around, puppeting Blackhand. Good thing Ogrim found out and decided it was time to restore our race's honour."

Drammush folded his arms.

"If no one would value honour the nations of the world would be consumed by corruption. Armies would consist of spineless cowards instead of the brave men and women that fight for Azeroth's survival."

"Also, if the humans would've killed all the orcs, who would have put an end to Archimonde? Without the orcs, the Alliance would stand alone against threats such as the Burning Legion and the Scourge. Without Thrall having united all these races under a single banner the Alliance and all of Azeroth would have fallen to the flame long ago!"

[The blood ravens]

"You are no different than the Lich King if you believe carrying horrific atrocities in the name of efficency isn't okay. You will just keep slipping down further, and further down the rabbit hole performing worse, and worse acts of casual brutality until you are just another remorseless killer like Arthas." Alex scowls after Artanis calls the Worgen population an infestation. "Call us whatever you like elf. I may be a pest to you, but I'm not trying to justify the slaughter of innocent people nor do I think that performing genocide on orcs was the best course of action. I would rather be a pest than a cold hearted monster like you."

Alex sits back, leans his head back, and closes his eyes. "This is all just one big cycle of conflict each punctuated by a catastrophe. After the third war the alliance, and horde went to war. Then the burning legion showed up in the blasted lands after that was dealt with more fighting. The Lich King gets defeated, and more fighting. Now Azeroth is being shaken to its very core by the cataclysm, and the fighting continues."

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

West of Corin's Crossing

Norine nodded. "I've heard many things about Zul'Drak indeed. To face those hordes of trolls..." She shook her head. "I can not lay my eyes upon one without being reminded of the Amani filth. I know that the Darkspear trolls are of the Horde - steadfast allies, even - but I can not look upon them and forget about what their troll kin did to us... I pity them for it, as I - and I am sure you, too - know all too well how it.. feels to see people look upon you, and see but an abomination, a murderer of the innocent and former servant of the Lich King. It is ironic, in a way, that I discriminate the Darkspear for what their Amani kin, while loathing the world for hating me for what I did."

She looked up, towards Alex. "And it is there that we, Death Knights, are different from your feral kin. The feral Worgen are out of their minds, unaware of what they are doing. I know that I have slain the innocent, I know that I fought under the Lich King's banner, and I know that I enjoyed the slaughter when I did. It is entirely different. When I lived, I was a proud member of the Blood Knights, fighting in the wastes of Outland, upholding the virtues of my people. When I died, I was turned into a monster, living only to fight - but still fully aware of what I was doing. Even now, freed from the Lich King's grasp, people look at me in disgust, and perhaps rightly so, for I s deep inside me I still feel the need to fight and kill more than anything else."

Norine looked back at Artanis, and back to the cart's wooden floor, shaking her head. "It is clear to me that you are an Elf of Quel'Thalas, but I find myself wondering whether you are like me, a Blood Elf, or still a High Elf. It is hard to see after the... changes done to a Death Knight."

The group of carts, meanwhile, finally arrived at a small encampment of Crusaders, to the west of Corin's Crossing in the Eastern Plaguelands. They came to a halt, and several Crusaders went to greet them, motioning for them to get out of the carts. Norine climbed out of it, followed by the Apothecary Vile. The Apothecary gave a mocking bow to her. "I shall have to set up my things, lady Death Knight." He glanced at the Orcs, and the Worgen in the cart, before walking off, leaving Norine with a final piece of advice. "Beware the living."

From the second, slightly larger, cart came a group of Argent Crusaders, most of them new initiates. The majority were humans, although most of their officers appeared to be either Draenei, or High Elf. With them came Elvalaea Shadowfeather, the Night Elf herbalist that had been sent with them, as well as Lobus Thistlespindle, a slightly eccentric Gnomish Engineer of some small renown.

The third cart was packed with supplies, but a feral-looking figure jumped out of it, before running towards the first cart. It had rotten flesh, and didn't seem particularly intelligent. It didn't attack, however, and instead approached the Blood Elf who had come out of the cart first. It gave what appeared to be a cheer, and swung its fist into the air, what remained of its right arm's muscles flopping in the air as it did so. Many of the Knights of the Ebon Blade had Ghouls as retainers - some of them aiding the Death Knights in combat, others doing menial tasks for their masters as best as they could. Under its left arm, it held a small crate upside down, marked with the seal of the Royal Apothecary society. Norine motioned for it to follow Fabien, as the crate belonged to him. She watched it eagerly run towards the Apothecary, following him as he made his way to the tent he was assigned, the Ghoul uttering yet a rather enthusiastic cheer. Norine had still not named him. She had had many different Ghouls before, most of whom had died (again) in a more violent mood of her, often when there were no foes to fight nearby. This one had been serving her for quite some time, however. Perhaps she should give it a name, soon. If it still lived by then.

She turned back towards the others, who had climbed out of the cart by now. "Come," she spoke, "we would best see to Crusade Captain Harrington." She motioned for the rest to follow, and began walking towards the central tent of the encampment.