~ Author's Notes ~

Why havn't I uploaded anything in a while? Check out "I hate being a grownup!" by Jenna Marbles. They never told us that living the American dream means no free time. * Lament! * * Lameeeeeennnnntt! *

On an off-note – I miss casual guild raid shinannigans. Four hours wiping on Crazy Cat Lady in Ulduar just to get one of her cats for my hunter. Doing heroics nekked except for santa hats and weapons. City raids where enemy chat spies report peeps saying, "Set up a picnic in the middle of ~enemy city~? Hell, they opened up a damn restaurant!" Wiping in old-school raids because some idiot on vent/in chat is making the tank laugh so hard she can't see the triangle through the tears ("Take your dirty socks and stuff em, I'm trying to tank!" "You don't want to know what he stuffs his socks with to make em dirty!")

This is not that kind of fun-times raid.

~*~ Chapter 51 ~*~

The Dark Lady laughed bitterly, "We'll see about that."

"You have rogues amongst your people, yes?"

"Around here somewhere."

"You should probably have them destroy the necklaces the necromancers are wearing. Destroy it and it destroys their source of power forever."

The little druid wondered just how many such rogues the Dark Lady had at her disposal. One at least, she was sure. However, one rogue versus all the traitorous necro-priests? None of the rogues she'd known in her handful of immortal years were that good.

The Banshee Queen lowered her gaze at the priestess, "Similar to the very necklace you're wearing now?" The rain was slowing to a drizzle now. The preened feathers on the metallic shoulder pads of the Dark Lady's black and purple neck-to-deck fighting armor were starting to rise once more. The light from the fire made the details of the outfit – a mix of High Elf fighting leathers and some bits of heavier Forsaken styled armor – clearly visible.

The priestess lifted her chin, the deep v of her robe's neck going strait to her navel and displaying the coin sized blue stone beautifully. The back of the disc the stone was mounted on would have rune, which was bound to her soul. "Exactly like the one I am wearing now."

"That was very foolish of the Arch Bishop to make the object of power something so base. I didn't think he would teach you how to kill each other so soon either." The priesttess looked perplexed for a moment so the undead woman continued, "Usually the blood sport comes when you're climbing up the ranks of the Scourge." Then she understood.

"I have my methods for finding knowledge, as you do yours. Would you have looked at their necklaces unless I told you otherwise?"

The Banshee Queen was not so easily corrected, "Eventually. Though you're willingness to save me the time I would have spent searching is much appreciated." There was a tiny bit of annoyance and irony mixed in with the Dark Lady's words. Stopping an army of necromancers who were slaughtering your own army was a very time sensitive task. Well... seems the priestess had been helpful after all.

If you kill a necromancer without destroying the stone, their soul absorbs the energy and turns them into angry gophers.

"Well I don't want a bunch of angry… ghosts coming after me."

Ha. You almost said "gophers"!

"Who's mind are you reading, my dear priestess? They are far more knowledgeable on this subject that you are. I'd rather talk to them in person, rather than through you."

"How-"

"I am hundreds of years old; I know the look in a mage or priests eyes when they are reading minds. Who is it?"

In a panic the druid couldn't help but remember just how she came across this knowledge. A memory flashed threw her eyes: herself at 7, fleeing threw the thick roots and leaves of the forest, running from ancient ruins. In her small hands a relic glowed softly and pulsed with evil intent. On her heels a vengeful spirit came full speed. Too small to have mastered a form, her feet flew over rocks and road till her lungs gave out and she could run no more. The spirit grabbed her from behind, spun her around… and evaporated, as the idol in her hand was struck free and smashed with the head of an even older stave. Turning, she fell gratefully into the arms of her savior, not understanding at the time why the Highborn lady didn't just go get the idol herself if she wanted it so bad. But it didn't matter, she had made thirty silver and it would buy enough bread to feed her whole family that night.

Kayas shook her head and dislodged the memory, all but the bread part. That word she repeated over and over and over again at the priestess. For once she was grateful that she never though of herself in the third person else the woman would know her name. Bread. Bread. Bread. Bread. Bread… she chanted.

"Does it matter who is sending me bread? Can we just get this bread rolling? I'd love to see the bread tomorrow. Commander, I'm coming with you to Tanaris when the bread is done!"

"You weren't even here when we had that conversation! How far does your telepathy reach?" Though a fallen commander he was, a commander he was non-the-less. "Can you figure out who is controlling them and break the link?"

The Dark Lady blinked hard, laughed, smiled, "And that, sir, is why I like you!" The commander looked disgusted and took a step back. Those who garnered the this undead woman's attention often found themselves in a shallow grave before long. To the priestess she repeated, "Can you break a telepathic link?"

The priestess sucked in a deep breath, paled quite a bit, and stammered, "I… don't want to! They're linked to Him. I don't want to reach out and touch that. Please!"

"That's not a no." The Banshee Queen took the woman by the arm to lead her somewhere but she threw herself back, colliding with the foot soldier.

"No! I can't! He's too strong, his mind is too strong."

"Is it a 'he' or a 'they'.

"Yes."

"Listen here, young lady," Commander Hillburn drolled with a deep voice, as if he wanted to do anything but talk a human woman into voluntarily linking minds with the Scourge, lest her soul become tainted or twisted, "We got one shot at winning this. In light of the information you've given us our resistance is token at best. Any second now they come pouring through that gate. Ghouls, zombies, leaping death monsters, mages, necromancers, lichs, banshees and things you've ne'er even seen before! If you can break the link before they get organized for the inward advance then they become mindless Scourge are so, so much easier to fight than mind-full Scourge. You said it yourself that you're life is not your own. If it doesn't belong to the Lich King then you're still Scarlet, and if you're still Scarlet then as your commanding officer I command you to break that link!"

Token at best? Not that I'm a judge of the Scourge but I though we had a pretty good resistance. By bread and butter, I've fought more with less!

"Bread and butter..." The priestess echoed. She sighed heavily, a deep weariness sinking into her features. "If I do this you let me walk away. Both of you. I want out of Tirisfal. I want to go somewhere else where there are a whole new set of problems and none of it involves worrying which side I'm on.[1]"

The Banshee Queen and the Commander both looked at her in surprise and then looked at each other. "Deal!" They said in unison. The Dark Lady added, "Silverpine has a worgen problem if you'd perhaps like to try your hand at killing insane human non-druids."

"She said she doesn't want to work for you either!" The commander barked, annoyed that the elfin lady would still try to get the priestess to do her bidding even under the guise of not having the woman do her bidding.

The priestess tweaked a smile at the commander. To the Dark Lady she said, "'I'm... a devotee of the Light, you see. My power lies in healing – most of the time. I don't have enough discipline to do the deeper work. I do this and I don't just interrupt His connection to the Scourge... I'll interrupt your connection to your minions as well. It's the same icor that flows though their bodies, just some differences of composition."

"As my apothocaries have discovered."

The priestess was silent for a second but it was the commander who put it to words, 'Your apothecaries have experimented on you?"

"Yes. I was their first test subject. The ichor in my veins is different from most other undead – my body itself was never raised as undead per-say. The act of being reintroduced to my banshee soul is what keeps my physical visage usable. My soul literally moves me."

"So if we kill you there will be a phase two?[2]"

"And a phase three... possibly four. And maybe a five. Plus Corrosa. So six." Serz Huzad was in a helpful mood again.

Nekov looked annoyed-protective as he leaned on his slick black farm tool and waited for the wall to come down so they could get down to the business of fighting. He was a warrior after all. Micro-knitting together details of how they all go here and what they planned to do if they survived was not his forte.

"After what happened in the Monastery I'm pretty sure Corrosa would wipe them all. They'd never get to loot." Michael was almost bored listening to grown ups yep. "Would that make Corrosa the new Dark Lady?" Though he was saying it more to himself as musing the current Dark Lady looked over and scoffed.

Serz looked positively shaken to the core at the idea, an expression that was noticed by everyone present . If the undead were unable to stomach the idea of having Corrosa for a Queen... "I should think that would be nigh impossible. Can you see it now? Her priestly companion made to sit and stay in Undercity? No, his wanderlust is too strong. Where he goes she goes."

The gray-coated druid though it odd that none of the dozens present would for a second even entertain the idea that perhaps the priest would return to his own people and Corrosa would stay with hers. What bush had she been hiding under that she'd never heard of them before they showed up in Auberdine that morning? In her mind she heard the Dark Lady making a comment about the backwood village she had crawled out of. It made her remember the Highbourn lady and the idol. I wasn't born in Auberdine, my lady, she though mockingly. My village, and most of my family, were wiped off the face of the map . All that remain now are ruins. Ruins are all that ever remain when elves play with demons and magic. In the present fire roared, mocking her. A different set of demons and magic were in the process of making a new set of ruins tonight.

"Maybe I"ll go to Ferralas," the necro-priestess mused to herself, "I hear there are beaches there free of murlocs, where the water is still blue and the grass is still green."

The light Quel'dorie leaned over and asked Michael, "Just imagine how he'd try to decorate the place. Red or blue?" The little druid assumed they were talking about the Priest living in the undercity. The conversation was more interesting by the relic stand. Why the color options?

"Blue. After the Cathedra there's no way he'd paint Undercity red. Even if she and the Dark Lady are both -"

"Michael. That's sharing." The Dark Lady's gentle reproach could have soothed kittens. The commander actually shook his head and stared to hear the metalic, hollow voice go from hard to motherly in such a flash. To the priestess she affirmed, "Yes, I understand I will be cut off from my own. I can compensate. You will do this thing for me then?"

"For you, no. For Loarderon." Then louder she said, "For Loarderon!"

"Grand! Find a spot and get to work. You," she pointed to the soldier who had found the priestess, "Guard her well. The fate of this battle may very well be in her hands" The soldier saluted and followed the priestess as she left to find a safe place to hide.

It seemed to Kayas that the entire fate of the battle came down to the single hands of every person there. Anyone mess up, even a little, and it was all over. From the white haired priestess and her hold shield, to the FrostFire Angels, to the Scout and his impressive arcane bow... even Mr. Meows was critical. She was the only one who had no purpose. Well, she reckoned, the Scout hadn't been given any specific job either, but he at least was not told to just sit on his tale and be a spectator.

The gates crumbled, the metal shrieking as the bolts loosened. The victory cry of the Scourge was louder than the Druid though it should have been. Just how many hundreds were out there? Large chunks of the wall were raining down, slamming into the mud and despair hard enough to shake the ground.

"For Loarderon! The cry went up, sweeping through the compound with speed. "For Loarderon! For Tirisfal!" Those present around the Dark Lady were quite surprised and gladdened to hear there were survivors – few as there were – in other sections of the compound. At least there was a small chance for reinforcements, assuming they won their own battles.

From every corner the rally shouts went up. Soon other voices chimed in, "For Brill!" one of the undead cried. "For the Agamand Mills!" Nekov cried. The commander looked sickened and ashamed but still chimed in, "For the Castle!"

"For Loarderon! For the Castle!"

Serz Huzad thrust both bony fists into the air and orange-green fel flames twinkled at his finger tips. For a split second there was anger in a voice that had not spoken in anger since it's body breathed it's last breath, "For Darrowshire!"

The metal screeched, the gate crumbled further, less than half a dozen bolts remained. The realization that seconds from now they would be fighting whipped the occupants into a frenzy.

"For Andorhal! For the Cenarion!" Kaldorie did not shout often, preferring silent reflection to loud declarations, but just now Caspin added his soft-spoken voice to the rest. Kayas wondered just who "the Cenarion" where, but she'd figure it out when the fighting was done. Her feline body tensed, watching the wretched Scourge beating at the metal shield between them and the maws of death.

"For Light's Hope!"

"Speaking of Light's Hope," the Dark Lady growled, "if dearest Jetadiah were here that shield would be up by now!" Glancing up at the spot the white haired priestess had vanished to the Dark Lady took her bow from her back and readied an arrow at the gate.

The talking was done; the time was near. The battle cries when on and on.

"Caer Darrow!"

"Strathholm!"

"The Cathedral!"

The raid had stopped. The sodden wreck of the Scarlet Compound's defenses watched the Banshee Queen with purpose. They readied their weapons as she did. They turned towards the gate as she did. They said their last words, as she did.

"The Farmsteads!"

"The Docks!"

"The Granaries! The Orchards!"

The Forsaken and living defenders of the fort roared, whipping themselves into a battle frenzy. Howe dare the Lich King march an army into Tirisfal? How dare He threaten the living or the Forsaken? How DARE He make the living to turn on each other when they need each other to survive? His presumptions would not go unpunished!

"FOR KING MENETHIL!"

The Dark Lady winced. Hard. She winced again, rubbing her temple with one sharp finger. "Blasted all, that woman needs mental discipline! It would be a wonder if they couldn't feel her at the Throne." The undead present shook their heads as if trying to clear brain fog. For a split second the clamor from the other side of the gate stopped. Just a second. The Lich King's minions were feeling it as well. The little druid felt it, a ringing in her limbs and in her blood. A disconnect she hadn't realized was there. Disconnection from the Dark Lady's ability to control her.

The gate fell over, clanging loudly on the cobblestone and muck. Everyone froze.

Despite the Banshee Queen's warning, Kayas was the first to move. It was not in a Druid of the Wild to sit back and watch others do work. Her own rally cry, echoing a dream of battles long lost, would be the last words spoken in defiance of the moment.

"For the Scarlet Campaign of Loarderon! For the Blood Elves of Quel'Thalas! For every nation painted red by the blood of our families! Today, we take it all back!" To herself she added a private rally cry, For Eldre'thalas and everyone who's intentions paved a path of suffering. She knew exactly what it felt like to fight, to lose, to get run out of your land by an enemy so much stronger than she had been back then. She could do nothing to save a certain Keldorie village from it's fate, but these people? This battle? She was not that mewling cub anymore. She would not let it end in defeat this time.

The Scourge rushed in as a green and black dire bear lead Loarderon's last stand to war.

~ End Chapter ~

The priestess is about to complete the final quest in Tirisfal Glades and is about ready to move onto greener pastures! Congradulations on her impending ding and/or death.

If Sylvanas were an actual raid boss I assume her phase 2 would be banshee form once her body is defeated. I have ideas for her loot drops and other phases but I wouldn't want to ruin it all here :)