Prologue: Return
Three graves. That was all that remained of a small village just north of where once stood the great city of Dalaran in Alterac. Ravaged by the elements, the buildings were worn and decrepit, and the citizens who lived there had long been killed. To many it seemed like only yesterday that the Scourge plague spread across the land like a wildfire, and to the dismay of many, it claimed the mind and soul of the once beloved Prince Arthas Menethil of Lordaeron. The final blow came when the young prince even took the life of his own father and the people of his country. However it was because of these tragic events that this small village was overlooked, and its fate went unnoticed. During the fallen princes attack at Lordaeron, the Scourge under him struck out at nearby settlements, killing the inhabitants and raising them as their minions to continue the onslaught. Tragic, then, that these poor bystanders would go without ever being mourned. These three graves were the only memorial left of the town that had long since had its name forgotten. They belonged to a single family killed during the attack. A husband and wife, and their young son, not yet even five. How then did they become the only ones remembered? The father was just a retired old Paladin from the Second War, long since separated from the Silver Hand, and while this alone was a title of merit, very few knew where he made residence after his departure from the group.
The truth was that the entire family did not fall that say. The couple had two daughters, twins, both in their late teen years when the attack occurred. One, a student of Dalaran, and the other a soldier in the service of the excursion to Northrend. While none knew of the soldiers fate after Arthas' betrayal in the frozen wastes, the scholarly one had returned home and came to know of the slaughter, and the loss of her family. Driven to rage and hatred by the Scourge, she left her studies at Dalaran and seemed to disappear unto the world...
A single figure stood before the graves, their features covered by a simple hooded cloak as they seemed to gaze upon the weathered names etched into the stones that marked where the family lay peacefully, or at least that's what it appeared. It had been some time since anyone had came to the graves, that much was certain, however there were signs of someone having cleared the stones a time before. Kneeling down and reaching out, a feminine hand grasped at the stone, fingers running across the name of the young boy. So innocent, yet still a victim of the Scourge terror.
The female grit her teeth in anger from under the cover of her hood and rose back to her feet. "Well, I guess this is goodbye again." She said in a low voice as she prepared to leave, but her exit was stopped when she felt a presence behind her, and she turned to meet the newcomer, someone whom she recognised almost immediately, from the times when her father was in service to the crown, to her own times as such. Anyone in the Alliance would know the man before her now.
"Leaving so soon, girl? You haven't seen your parents in so long, and you give them such a short visit?" He asked in a deep, commanding voice, a voice befitting the leader of the Argent Dawn.
"What would a paladin of the Dawn be doing visiting a place long forgotten by the outside world? Lord Tirion Fordring." She asked back, her eyes peering out from under the hood, not wishing to show her face to the man, though he already knew her identity. "Surely your presence would be better suited to your little chapel in the Plaguelands, fighting the undead and whatnot."
"Don't get coy with me, girl. I know respect for the deceased, and your father there was a fine Paladin. At least someone should come show respect for the fallen here, since their daughter would not!" He scolded, approaching her. "What happened to you? Before this, you were a bright and cheerful girl, learning magic in Dalaran. The pride and joy of your parents! Now look at you, disappearing and showing up, unable to even show them your face!"
"I grew up, Lord Fordring. Saw the world for what it really was." She said, looking to him once more, "And I haven't been disappearing. I've been preparing." She corrected the Paladin.
"Preparing? What, pray tell is so worth preparing for that you forsake everything else?" He asked her, a little more curious than scolding this time.
"My revenge. I will kill the man that did this to me, who took everything from me." She told him with a hiss. "I will end the Lich King...no...that bastard Arthas, once and for all!" She declared as she started to leave, passing Fordring by. He turned quickly and reached out to stop her, grasping the hood of the cloak in an effort to keep her from leaving before he had his say. As he did so, the hood fell down, revealing her face finally. Long black hair was tied back into a single ponytail, revealing the demonic runes alight down the side of her face, and the red hue that replaced the natural green of her left eye.
"By the Light..." He gasped, "So you've turned to that accursed magic, just to get revenge. Tragic, to think your soul means so little to you." He said with a glare.
"Like I said, Lord Fordring. Preparation." She told him, grasping the hood and pulling it back up, the glow from the runes and her eye still visible even with the shadow of the cover. She started to leave once more, but words from the paladin stopped her in her tracks.
"The Lich King attacked Stormwind and the horde capital, Orgrimmar. Both the Horde and the Alliance, along with my own Argent Crusade are soon to sail for Northrend to put an end to Arthas. Give up your folly revenge and live on for your parents sake." He warned her. So, the forces of Azeroth were finally going to do something about the undead menace. That was not good enough. It wasn't enough just for the Lich King to be destroyed for her to be satisfied, to gain closure over her loss. No, she must put an end to him herself. That was the only way. Still, this was good information, now she would not have to think of a way to get to Northrend on her own, she could gain passage quite easily this way. She remained still and watched as the paladin mounted his nearby steed and departed first, without another word to her.
A smirk grew across her face, so it seemed she returned to Azeroth at the perfect time to enact her revenge. She would go to Northrend, and while she had told Tirion that her goal was the Lich King, the truth was that was only half of her revenge. While Arthas was the ultimate cause of her pain, there was another whose own hand was the one to slay her family. That death knight would be her true revenge. With a wave of the hand and a few demonic phrases, a rift opened in the air before her, and out of it stepped a dreadsteed, her dreadsteed. Climbing atop the demonic horse, she pat it on the side. "Come, Decimation, let us go to Stormwind and see about a ride north." She told her mount as she gave the command and it started southward.