Chapter 14. Wow, 14 chapters. This started as a short work of maybe three pages. So I'm so sorry updates are few and far between, but I promise I will finish this…eventually.

Chapter 14

In life his name was Rudolph Franklin. And though he carried that name in his un-death, that was all he took. In life, he had a family that loved him, and he loved them. In un-death, he only had his fellow soldiers of the Dark Lady's will. In life, he was a priest: a noble man who traveled from town to town, healing the sick and spreading the good word of the Light. In un-death, his views withered and distorted to match his physical changes. No longer was he a fine bodied human, who was gentle despite his strong stature. Now his very flesh seemed eager to drip away, bound to his tired bones only through the curse of the plague. With his life went his will to heal. That righteous emotion was replaced with a burning desire for revenge, and a will to serve the banshee queen before him.

"Mi lady," Rudolph said, bowing to one knee.

"What news do you bring?" Sylvanas Windrunner asked. Her voice was amazingly soft and soothing. It was said she could seduce even the most fanatical of paladins with no more than a whisper. To the Dark Lady's side was her trusted majordomo: the dreadlord know as Varimathras. Standing well over seven feet tall with a wide broad body, his sheer size was enough to intimidate any would be assassins of his master.

"Reports come from the south mi lady. The humans did indeed attempt to reclaim Tarren Mill, but our fellow Forsaken quelled the attack. I'm jubilant to report our ranks have expanded greatly after the battle."

"Good," the Dark Lady cooed. "They will all be needed. You are to travel to Booty Bay. Evacuate the town and be prepared to ambush the Greywalker."

Rudolph was confused. An upper-class soldier, he was familiar with all the Forsaken's resources of information. Yet still he knew not where this intelligence emerged from. He was going to risk questioning the Dark Lady, when he saw her. Sylvanas only smiled.

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The ship settled slowly in the dock. Before an anchor was dropped or the boat even leisurely swam to a halt, the undead emerged. Like the plagues they spread so maliciously, the Forsaken soldiers descended onto the vessel. From out of houses and stores, dwelling and shops, they came racing down the dock as fast as their long dead bones could carry them. They climbed the ship's walls and sides, and broke down the doors to flood the quarters. The plan was brutal in its simplicity, yet none the less affective. Utilize numbers, violence, and speed to eradicate the enemies. And in front of the mounting bloodlust was Rudolph himself. The ship was designed with two floors, so while his fellow Forsaken tore apart the upper level searching for a living thing to kill, Rudolph dove deeper.

It was the last room on the ship. No the tauren was behind this door, huddled in a ball of fear and fur. A sadistic grin crept over his lips. He kicked open the door. A tripwire attached to the door pulled a torch off the wall and ignited the pounds of explosive materials that littered the floor. A moment later, there were flames that were the purest white one could imagine. That was followed by an explosion louder than the greatest dragon's roar. Rudolph Franklin's body was incinerated by the flames completely, as were his fellow Forsaken soldiers.

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Tyrr Pantherfoot swam to the surface of the water and took a long deep breathe. Aloos followed, and Taff emerged to shake out his mane. The trio gazed at the burning wreckage, only Tyrr amazed that the plan had worked.

"I an't belief that orked." She said, in broken orcish. Aloos chuckled. She'd been practicing various dialects with the aid of Taff, but was still far from fluent in any.

Taff slowly swam to shore were he shook out his fur. His comrades followed. "Most soldiers are cannon fodder," the tauren explained with his deep voice. Fortunately for Tyrr, he was fluent in both the human langue of common and the night elves' native tongue. "They like to think they're crucial to the army, that they'll make a difference, that they're important. All they can really do is overwhelm their betters."

Aloos chuckled. "Leaders ain't much better mon. Simple strategies and overwhelming numbers. No imagination."

Tyrr understood the logic. "But it's the one in a million you got to watch out for?"

"She catches on quick mon."