Celys laid in waiting, one sword drawn, ready to strike. This mission would be a success. A delivery would be made to Brill's graveyard, to an apothecary. The wares must never reach the recipient.
Sniff, sniff.
The Worgen rogue reared her head and scanned the air for a new scent. Which was definitely not an easy task, for her nose was almost numb from the putrid stench of rotting, leftovers of flora and fauna decomposing while nurturing and predomination and more of this blight. Tirisfal had once been such a beautiful land, Lordaeron such a beautiful country, lush and green pine forests, intertwined with extensive meadows, a bright blue sky reflecting in the clear lake water… Now, a sickening green mist dampened the sunlight, the plants were diseased, as were the animals that ate them, breathed this foul air and drank this infected and poisoned water.
Worst of all were the humans, or what remained of them. They all had become monsters, sick and twisted images of their former selves, flesh rotting from their bones, eye sockets filled with a putrid, yellow glow, minds filled with nothing but an evergrowing hatred for the living. Lordaeron will be purged of those abominations and returned to its former glory. Maybe there could be peace with the Orcs, the Trolls, the Tauren, the Blood Elves and the Goblins, but never, NEVER with the light-forsaken Forsaken Undead.
Celys' ears twitched. Someone was down there… - she silently turned her head - …picking Silverleaf? The female Forsaken carefully cut off the herb and placed it in a green bag next to a pouch emanating a most awful and foul stench, the smell of bileroot. This was her target.
The Worgen leapt down the tree and onto the woman who had her back turned to her… And suddenly whirled around, drawing a dagger. Celys' claws landed on the Forsaken's shoulders. This woman was a rogue, too, which would explain while she didn't notice her sooner and now had a sharp and painful dagger in her side.
„Get off me, furball, your breath stinks… What are you looking at anyway, am I the first talking Undead you've ever seen?", the rogue snarled. Her voice was distorted and rough, her face partially rotten away, but that was definitely…
„Beth…"
Hair retreated from the Worgen's skin, her claws changed into hands, her paws into feet and her ears and tail retreated until the latter had completely disappeared as she morphed back into her human form. Tears fell from her blue eyes onto Beth's cold and dead skin. Beth grinned.
„If that isn't Celys… It's a shame, you know, I serve the glorious Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, who freed us from the Lich King's slavery while you became an errand girl for a lackey of the traitor king Greymane… Oh well, it makes you a traitor, too. And now, dear sister, would you please remove your weight from my shoulders? We can reminisce about the old days later, but I've got an important errand to run."
The Worgen snapped back to her senses. Beth was an enemy. The Forsaken didn't have any feelings left, devoid of all emotion, they sought only to kill, destroy and defile. Within a moment, she had changed her form back, ripped the bileroot pouch from Beth's bony hip and jumped behind a tree. An arrow lodged itself into the bark behind her as she quickly spilt a red draught over her stinging wound, which now rapidly closed. It would leave a scar from the poisoned air and blade… Celys started running. The green potion given to her by a befriended alchemist made her legs seemingly fly over the undergrowth, towards Silverpine Forest and then further to Gilneas. Even with her abilities, she would need to run a whole day. Her sister was slower than her, but never tired, and Celys was still deep in enemy territory. A second arrow missed her by an inch and dug itself into the rotten ground. Light have mercy, she thought.
Her sister had become stronger than her.