Furious. That was the only word Sylvanas could conjure to describe the anger and hate that dwelled with in her ethereal body. Of course, she knew, there were more eloquent more sophisticated words for the sheer white hot rage she felt, but she couldn't think of any so furious would have to suffice.
It hadn't been too long ago that she'd found the Lich Kings voice was only a dull ringing in her head instead of the absolute control she'd been used to. Not only did she have free will once more, she also had her memories. Memories of her death, and resurrection as a slave to her enemy came back vividly, of the torture he had lain upon her body before casting it aside to transform her into this…thing; banshee. A hand went involuntary to her side, where a wound should have been, she could most certainly feel as if one was still there, but in this husk of a soul there was only chill. Memories of aiding the bastard lay siege to her home and fulfill his diabolical plan. Yes, Sylvanas remembered and there was only one word to describe her emotions. Furious.
But there would be vengeance, she knew, a few of her fellow banshees, and even one abomination had come to her in secret, telling they no longer felt chained, yes, there would be vengeance and soon.
The ethereal banshee creature that was Sylvanas waited patiently for an audience with the dread Lich King formerly known as Arthas Menethel. He was currently discussing something with his second in command Kel'thuzad, whom Sylvanas had a special hatred for, being he had been resurrected in the sacred Sunwell of her people. Finally as their business was at an end, the powerful Lich departed from his master giving Sylvanas the opening she'd been looking for.
"You wanted to see me, Sylvanas." The Lich king asked, his tone showing boredom, and perhaps a little impatient.
"Yes, master, my banshee's report an alliance of forest trolls and remnants of the elves have allied together to formulate hit and run tactics on your bases left in what is now known as the ghost lands. While they will never produce any kind of real threat, their presence could be somewhat irksome." She explained in her most neutral tone, giving away not a hint of the rebellion that stirred in her soul.
An odd hearty sound echoed through the air as the Lich King laughed. The sound made Sylvanas want to attack him then and there; how could his body even perform such an action after he'd done so much damage to the world?
"I guess it's true what people won't do when there desperate." He finally replied as his chuckles died down. "Take a few banshees, Sylvanas, and quell the uprising while I make way to my kingdom."
"Yes master." She replied, giving what might have possibly been a bow in her floating ethereal form.
Within hours a group of her most loyal banshees where flying through the tangled diseased forest now known as the plague lands. They moved like flitting shadows of death through the trees a faint never ending wail rising from their ranks.
"Is this part of the plan, mistress?" Dahlia, her most trusted banshee asked.
If Sylvanas had had any solid facial features they would have been furrowed in contemplation. "Yes and no. True, we must give the other freed undead more time to set the ambush at Lorderan, but I am also looking for something."
"Yes, my mistress." Dahlia nodded, trusting Sylvanas completely and needing no explanation.
"Do not call me that, Dahlia." Sylvanas ordered suddenly. She stopped to turn around and face her freed sisters. "None of you call me that anymore. You were slaves to the Lich King but you are not slaves to me; your will is your own."
"Pardon then, but what do you desire us to call you?" Dahlia asked.
"Sylvanas, general, I don't know, just anything but that." She replied, and without another word began moving again.
If banshees could shrug in bewilderment they most certainly did and followed obediently.
The Ghostlands, as they were known now, had once been a place of peace and beauty to Sylvanas. Sylvanas had remembered what the land had been long ago, before the lich king twisted it into this…aberration. It had been home once. Her family had ruled here justly, they had been loved by their fellow elves and respected leaders. She remembered running and hunting in the forest with her sisters, Vallera, the littlest always lagging behind while Alleria would always scout ahead to protect her sisters from harm. Alleria had always been the leader of their trouble making trio and had actually inspired Sylvanas to take the path of a ranger. How she missed them.
Mindless ghouls too far gone to be of any use, even to the lich king wandered about, ever to roam the world as noting but ravenous beast. Those that they found, the banshees mercifully put to rest.
It was a thankful thing indeed, the banshee's had no need to eat or rest, for their search lasted well into the next day, simply following their leader through the land.
"Perhaps, milady if you were to tell us what you were looking for, the rest of us could spilt up to look." Dahlia finally asked as the evening of the next day drew on.
"Maybe I wasn't being completely honest with you, Dahlia." Sylvanas replied. "I know what it is I seek and where it is, but I must admit, I have taken the long way to get there. A cowardly thing to do, but I needed to work up my nerve, to see if it was still there. In fact, we've arrived now."
It was a glade, of scarred and misshapen oaks festering with plague and disease and the rot of flesh and bones crumbling into history. In the center of the glade, under a hefty amount of leaves was an elven corpse.
"Your body." Dahlia revealed in an awed, nearly reverent tone.
"Yes." Sylvanas replied dumbly, looking at the dark but still intact flesh. Her hair that had once been a honey blonde was white and dull, laden with dirt and insects, her clothes had holes in them but were still wearable.
She floated down to her corpse tentatively as if something would jump and snatch it away. All the while speaking, but more to herself than to her sisters who watched in silent rapt attention. "As a banshee we hold the power to enter others bodies, to control them at will. We have even used it on a few abominations, I wonder if it is possible…"
Her voice trailed off as she evoked the natural power of the banshee. Touching her body, it was ice cold, which was to be expected, but the fierce pull of her soul leaping into the body was a shock. The banshee's watched in anticipation as banshee Sylvanas had disappeared leaving only the corpse. Minutes passed by, long tense minutes, where the banshees began to lose hope. One set up a wail of mourning, just as Sylvanas opened her eyes. They had once been a jade green, now they were red as blood.
The banshee's gasp as the corpse began to move, slowly, shakily.
"Sylvanas?" Dahlia dare speak up through her shock.
The eyes of the dead elven ranger looked to the banshee and Dahlia saw that she recognized her. Grass, blood, bark, dew, all the sensations upon her skin were new again. She could feel the panicking bugs swarming her hair and the dried blood and gore that had been left on her skin for months. She smelt horrible but revealed that she actually could smell. All things she'd taken for granted in life, she cherished anew.
With a strong will she attempted to regain control of her limbs. Her legs began to move and she almost laughed at the now strange sensation. Using the trunk of a tree to steady her, she almost made it up, but, muscles weak, her legs gave out. With a shriek, she tumbled to the ground.
"My lady!" Dahlia yelled out, but Sylvanas shooed her away.
"Pain, Dahlia, I fell pain, a wondrous thing indeed."
After a few more minutes, she tried again this time succeeding in standing upright, but still shaky. It hurt, by all the nether it hurt to move the long dead limbs again, but what a sensation!
Below her a piece of carved wood was by where her corpse had rested minutes ago. Her bow, the one she had so fastidiously crafted long ago. The memory served to gain her strength, as she bent to pick up the familiar weapon.
A hand once again reached down where a wound should have been, and it was there, an ugly open gash ripped along her side. Fury filled her strengthening her steps.
"Arthas will pay, sisters!"
The victorious cries echoed from all the banshees who earnestly began their slow march back to Lorderan. Sylvanas, although agonized with every step, kept pace, the dawn of her vengeance so close at hand.
"Banshee, where is you mistress?" Arthas asked breathlessly.
Behind him, his kingdom was aflame with undead who were running amok out of his control. The voice in his head implored him to get to Northrend before he lost complete control, what other option did he have? No at least some good fortune had come his way, Sylvanas was back and her forces would see him safely to the coast.
"She'll meet up with us in the forest." Dahlia replied hiding her smile.
As they traveled Arthas knew something was amiss, this banshee didn't seem quite right, there was another force guiding her. Before he could draw a conclusion that he'd been betrayed an arrow came out of the forest piercing his leg armor. Within seconds he felt half his body go numb. Another arrow came out this time nicking the small space where his chest piece and shoulder armor met. With that he was completely paralyzed and in a world of utter pain.
With a cry he fell of his horse, wondering who had ambushed him.
"Does it hurt, Arthas?" A long dead but familiar voice asked.
Sylvanas, appeared through the forest, her rangers cloak torn and ragged, as was most of her armor, but looking just as fierce in death as she'd been in life.
"Sylvanas…" Arthas managed to mumbled out numb lips.
"Potent, isn't it? It just a fraction of the pain you've caused me, but never fear, I promise you'll learn what pain is all about by the time I'm done with you.
She was hovering over him in seconds, another arrow out undid the leather fastens that held his plate armor together.
His chest was pale like everything else about him, but it still moved, and breathed as a living person. Arthas, for all his talk as king of the damned, was still alive.
"You took my life Arthas, destroyed my home, my people, everything I hold dear. I will make sure, even in death, you never forget about me or what I'm about to do to you." She said coldly.
Taking the poison laden arrow she turned the tip down to his chest and began scrawling her name in elven. His screams pierced the air as the jagged elven script brought vibrant colors of red to white.
"Yes monster, scream, scream!" She laughed almost manically. She could feel him attempting to crawl away, but in vain, making it all the more sweet.
Yes she had plans for him, death was to good for him, only an eterinty of pain which she herself must endure would suffice as proper punishment.
"Back you mindless wretches!." The voice of the lich Kel'thuzad roared as he crashed through the forest with a multitude of undead.
Sylvanas cursed, knowing she'd not have time to finish the job, but knowing the damage had been done. Quickly, she leapt into the safety of the forest her laugh echoing through the air. "Wretches yes, mindless, no! Watch your back Arthas, because I'll never stop hunting you, never!"
And with that she was gone.
Arthas, who'd never known fear, as paladin or death knight, knew it now. He knew vengenace had a name, and it was Sylvanas Windrunner.