Interlude I

Lordaeron was looking dreary this evening. Indeed, Lordaeron looked dreary most of the time. After the events of the Scourge War, it had become known under a new name, the Plaguelands. Jirak, however, found himself unable to settle in that reality. While he was forced to begrudgingly accept the new state of his former nation, the old names still meant a lot to him. In his mind there was no such thing as the Plaguelands, only Lordaeron sounded true. The only time he would give up his nostalgia would be during his dealings with the Forsaken in the region, as they were prone to bitterness and anger when reminded of that which they had lost.

Jirak had not come to former Lordaeron to barter with the unliving denizens of the land, however. Because no matter how tainted the land might be, how ravaged its hovels, how plagued its wildlife, this was still his former home. Many might say that there was nothing left here for those that abandoned the region long ago, but those that once lived there had a different perspective, and Jirak shared in that perspective. Fragments of his former existence could still be found here and there, and they echoed through his mind like footsteps, regularly urging him to halt and look over his shoulder. When he was there, it comforted him. When he was not, it haunted him instead.

Apart from the occasional bird flying in and out of the rotten trees that surrounded his path, Jirak was devoid of any real company. It had been a conscious decision. The burden of leading the confrontation with the Legion weighed heavily on Jirak, and he knew that the real conflict had yet to begin. He needed to gather his thoughts before he could find the answers he sought. This had proven rather difficult, not in the least regarding his visit to Icecrown. Perhaps here, he thought, he could make an effort to contemplate before beginning to strategize. A foreboding feeling warned him to make haste.

Walking down the road to Light's Hope Chapel, the scenery began to shift continuously. The druids of the Cenarion Circle and paladins of the Silver Hand had made great gains in growing and repopulating the once dense forests of Eastern Lordaeron. From time to time small patches of green grass and pockets of small animals could be seen, only to be crudely replaced by sightings of the red, rotten plains he had become so familiar with over the years as he walked further. One day, it will be as it once was. While the largest parts of the land were abandoned, the idea of families making their home here in the future was able to bring a smile to Jirak's face. That is why we fight.

As he approached the chapel, Jirak started to distinguish a large monument that was erected in honour of the great paladin Tirion Fordring. It had been around for a few years, but this was the first time Jirak paid a visit to the chapel after his death. Upon entering the courtyard of the paladin stronghold, he noticed a difference. The cold white stone now looked vibrant, and it radiated a sense of determination that seemed to rub off on the silver-plated guards stationed there. If there was anyone foolish enough to lay siege to the Chapel once more, they might experience having an easier time destroying Argus. Jirak had not come to conquer, however. The defenders greeted him with a solemn nod. They knew why he was there.

The graveyard behind the Chapel was neatly kept. Unlike many of the other burial grounds that Jirak had seen, this one showed no signs of deterioration. The gravestones still stood firm, instilling more of a sense of honour than one of mourning in those that walked into the garden of the dead. After walking through the first few rows, Jirak found what he had been looking for. He kneeled down before a plain, grey gravestone. The only markings to be found on it formed the name of the deceased. In memory of Lily Isaac. Jirak grabbed his bag and carefully pulled a dry plant out of it. Attached to it was a small piece of parchment. It faced upwards as Jirak laid it on the grave. Though this rose is withered, it has not lost its meaning. Though my heart is withered, it still beats for you.