Pre-Notes: This takes place in the time of the cold war between the Alliance and the Horde, the time of WoW, and it would probably help to have knowledge about the races and setting. I'll try to explain as much as I can. If I misspelled anything or messed up feel free to tell me and I would like constructive criticism if you have any to give but first you have to read it; so get going!
Unusual Allies: An Undead Beginning
Tarren Mill was covered in fog hiding the rotting and broken pieces of the long-left behind buildings, wagons, and fences from the eyes of any onlooker. To all who did not know what things dwelled now within the homes of the past glorious town,it would seem a ghost town although oddly for the land of Azeroth not one that was filled with them. It was filled with the dead but not the buried kind…the kind that could walk about and, more importantly, think. Whether that was an improvement over the mindless Scourge was a matter fought between the scholars of all races for almost none were friends with members of the undead race known as the Forsaken and definitely not friends with the whole race itself. Even the horde, who the Foresaken had an alliance with, were considered to be at best temporary allies until they could manufacture a new plague one that would turn people not into Scourge but Foresaken who were to be forever led by Sylvanas Windrunner, their banshee queen. This new plague had been underdevelopment for 3 years and no progress had been made, it seemed much like the Night Elf's cursed tree, the plague needed to be consecrated with the Legion's blessing, the Night Elf's tree needing to be blessed by nature, to actually work and that was not something that Sylvanas would beg the demonic horde for, which was a blessing to the living races of the world. However, undead alchemists still strove for this elusive plague for their queen and one such Alchemist lived in the ghost town of Tarren Mill by the name of Averty.
Ligaments snapped back into movement as Averty who lied sleeping on his bed rolled over. He blinked before groaning and slowly slid over so his legs fell over the side of the bedraggled bed. Being dead or more accurately undead took away the need for comfort, so he worn his clothes in his dreamless sleep. He did not need a bath or need to wash his garments, smell also a thing that most Forsaken didn't care about or could sense as quite a few no longer had noses, but in the morning he would as he was doing now pour a potion of his own making over himself to make his rotting body smell fresher but then again what does fresher mean to a living corpse? Looking into the full body mirror that rested against the wall of his home, he studied himself. Averty wore dark blue robes with lines of black forming patterns on it; his belt was dyed black with a sapphire in the center. On his hands and feet he wore the alchemist's standard fare, thick gloves to protect him from poisonous needles and soft boots so there would be less chance of trampling a rare plant. Last, he studied his face which was an oddity for the Forsaken Race. It was still had the standard deathly rotting grey and had the black eyes which noted that someone was of the undead persuasion but unlike other faces his was unmarked by rot, if he could find a way to change the color of his skin and eyes he could almost pass of as being human but he had no wish too.
Turning to his bed which had only a simple sheet to stop the cold of night from creeping in, Averty gazed upon it and thought aloud, 'Sleep is a thing I no longer have a use for and yet I still do it when I could focus on my studies all night. It seems the habit of sleeping', hethought with a grin, 'didn't die with me.'
Peering over at the table where sat all his books and ingredients for his experiments, he noticed he was out of Mageroyal, a relatively common herb compared to some others that he had been forced to travel for, but still a herb that featured prominently in some potions. He lurched over to his staff, 'which was quite a nice one,' he mused. It was black with silver running in complex arcane patterns along its shaft; a blue gem floating just above the top end held there by hidden runes probably inscribed in the top and a soft silken grip to hold it by. He picked it up and slid it into its sheath across his bony back. The fog rolled into his home as he opened the door claiming everything inside within its vapors.
Averty lurched toward the edge of the town, his muscles, unlike those of the living, needed to warm-up, before he could do anything such as running but after that warm-up he could run until the end of the world came if he so wished. He noted that no one except for the guards was out yet it must still be very early, early enough so that no alliance would even be tossing off their bed sheets, perfect for gathering herbs peacefully. Limbs working fully now, he jogged toward the sea carefully hugging the side of the river that Southshore wasn't on. The fog made it hard for him to see but after five minutes of searching he found a nice specimen of Mageroyal which he carefully plucked three flowers from and marked down its location on his map for future reference if he ever needed more. By this time, the fog had started to lift and he could now spy the dock of Southshore though there still weren't any people that he could spy upon it. He opened a pouch and tenderly placed the leaves inside; he would have to be slower in returning than he was coming here if he wanted the leaves to be in pristine condition. He closed the pouch and stood up and watched as the sun's rays turned the mist golden. Averty stood and watched; the sight touching his soul. As he watched, he also thought; 'most people think its just force of will that keeps us in these dead bodies like the Scourge, Averty scowled, but if we were like the Scourge why can we think? We're not liches so our souls weren't sold to the Burning Legion so they're still there, here in our bodies making us different than those mindless bags of meat which allows to act more... human.' He thought back to a story that he had heard about; that two Forsaken had fallen in love although nothing could come out of it; procreation not being one of the things the Legion had thought necessary for an army that reproduced by plague. But maybe emotions…Averty stopped his thoughts as the mist fully dropped away and he could hear the start of sounds of an awakening town coming from Southshore.
He walked as fast as he could back towards Tarren Mill, still not wanting to damage the herbs fastened to his sides. Making it across the brick road, he sighed with relief and he began to walk slower knowing he could make it to Tarren Mill now, the pond being to his right. That is until he got whacked in the back of the head from behind. He collapsed onto the ground in the process squishing the Mageroyal he'd come out to get. "Fuck," he whispered as he tried to stay awake. His brain barely hearing the words in Common that came from behind him, "Don't worry I've got the hard part of the job." Right before Averty fell unconscious he could feel himself being hoisted onto the back of a furry beast who growled probably for having to carry an undead passenger. Its fur was so soft and, Averty groggily thought, good enough to sleep on, that it eased him into unconsciousness.