A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry the chapter is a bit later than I said it would be, even if it still falls into my planned schedule. I wrote the first version of this chapter in the middle of the night, then spent a few days completely rewriting it because I wasn't happy with it. I'm much happier with this version! I hope you are too. Since I didn't last time, let me leave a disclaimer that I don't own World of Warcraft or any affiliated material in this fanfiction, and make no profit from it. That will apply to all future chapters as well. All of it is Activision-Blizzard, who just laid off 90 more people *grumbles*. Enjoy!


Night had fallen by the time I knew I could not escape.

It is no easy matter, fleeing from packs of undead abominations. For one, they are tireless and could chase me long after I had collapsed, and still be fresh for combat. The necromantic magic that sustained them was a bitch. Two, as I fled west through the foothills, more and more Scourge were alerted to my presence by the wails and fell cries of the damned that were already pursuing me. Thirdly, there was more than the monsters of the Scourge that had set themselves against me in my flight to safer territory. My only saving grace was that Arthas had not yet awakened from his slumber on the Frozen throne, so the Scourge here didn't quite having a functioning hive-mind yet. I am not quite sure who is overseeing command of the Scourge in the Plaguelands right now, but I am pretty positive that right now most of the undead here were wandering aimlessly and would continue or do so until called, or else were in small groups under the command of local necromancers.

One thing I learned when I first cast magic in this world is that magic is much deeper than I thought. It is not the mere manipulation of mana into the casting of ordered spells as the game mechanics would suggest. Everything about this world was different, bigger than the one that I once explored in World of Warcraft.

Magic was alive. The whole world was alive. Since I had awoken my magical abilities, I could feel the eddies of power that flowed in the world around me, in everything. The wind whispered in my mind of freedom and distant places. The earth was solid and resolute, but given time and strength would shift.

I could see why shamans were considered wise by all. Everything in my environment trembled with a hidden power that seemed ready to be unleashed, yet the awareness that such feelings evoked was an even greater power, for it lent a greater understanding, a knowledge of the world unmatched by those who could not feel the magic of the world.

Warcraft lore spoke of a world soul, a greater unity that bound all of Azeroth as one planet, left there by the Titans. That there was a sleeping titan inside the planet, after which Azeroth was named. Yet underneath all of that, every aspect of this world cried out with their own distinct voices. The part of me that was an avid reader of philosophy was giddy with the idea that something approximating Plato's world of forms existed in what was a video game, but I had other priorities than thinking about that right now.

Right now, the voices of the plaguelands screamed. Whispers from rock, wood, and wind cried out at the pain it suffered from the blight that had been brought to it. It cried out in pain and fear, but also in rage, both wholesome and not. Some of it had been twisted by the blight that tainted it until its rage was an angry and foul thing that sought to inflict suffering on any who crossed it, pure or not. Yet a larger part of it remained pure, though wounded, ready to lash out at the beings that had tortured it so. All it needed was a bit of strength and a clear direction to get its revenge.

My newly awakened druidic senses told me that while I was not of the air, earth, or water, my new relationship with the plant life of this world would allow me some influence over then natural world, granted to me by the relationship held between the natural animate and the natural inanimate. The elements were essential to life, and strived for it to thrive, almost like a parent wanting their child to grow and succeed.

Now the life that was once here had been wronged and perverted but its memory remained, and the last bit of life in the plaguelands desired vengeance. The voices of nature here wanted to be unleashed. I was no shaman, even if my blended fire and life magic gave me a more attuned control of the aspect of living fire such as that in the Firelands, but the other elements felt like an extended family, cousins to my own will in nature.

Such a sense both elated and terrified me. Earth had always seemed so mundane. The universe obeyed observable and understandable laws that were natural, yet unliving. But here... here there was life in all things, and being able to sense and touch upon them was like being part of a greater whole that cried out in exaltation in the shared emotions of so many voices.

Yet such a power helped me understand the true strength of foes that could subvert such a natural and deep-rooted will. There is a balance to all aspects of the Warcraft universe; light and void, life and death, order and chaos.

So the thought of void or fel beings that could so easily corrupt and consume such a unified strength of will made me feel like crawling into a hole and hiding from the world. Azeroth was a confluence for massive battles between the cosmic forces in the Warcraft universe, and the mission I had been given was the overthrow of one of the most corruptive of those forces, and its servants.

Eep.

Nature and the elements were not the only things I could now sense. A miasmic fog of death magic hung over this land, and I could feel some measure of its evil intent. Death was a natural force, yet this was a corrupted and malicious form that had been turned to the will of the Lich King by his felspawn masters.

Similarly, I could sense the concentration of death magic in the creatures I was being chased by. In this land, the hovering blight granted a greater measure of speed and hate to these creatures, and weakened me on top of it.

So while the undead shamblers that had been hunting me for the last few hours as I fled west were normally a bit slower than their living counterparts due to the damage their bodies had taken, they were being reinforced by the fell will of the land they stalked. And they were catching up. To quote Legolas, "It is as if the very whips of their masters are behind them."

I could better understand now why my armour and weapon were so light, as well as why the craftsmen of this world stuck to one profession of creation. The metal I wore was more than dull steel, it too had a will to it, poured into it by the craftsmen, an inanimate yet persistent desire to fulfill its purpose, to protect, and to unburden its wielder, and the remnant of will left in it by its creator actually acted to make my armour and weapon lighter. Enchantments weren't so much spells cast upon the item, but the will of the living imparted into an inanimate object.

I would have already been caught and killed by the Scourge chasing me if not for this, as even running with my burden lessened, and the superior physiology of half-elven genetics, I was at the point of physical exhaustion. I couldn't run much longer, or I wouldn't even be able to put up a token fight against the foes that pursued me, and I simply refused to go down without a fight.

It was at this point that I promptly tripped and fell on my face.

Sue me, it was a dark night and I was exhausted.

Yet it was only because the noise of my boots stomping through the dead grass had ceased that I was able to pick up the sound of rushing water in the distance ahead of me.

For a moment I thought I had already made it to the river on the borders of the Eastern and Western Plaguelands. I couldn't remember any others in this part of the Eastern Plaguelands. But then doubt assailed me. This world was much larger and more varied than what I knew could indicate. The spot I had started at would be several dozen miles from the edge of the region, at the least. The plaguelands had once been the heart of several human kingdoms, Lordaeron amongst them. There would be many rivers and small lakes in this world that were not in the topography of the game. It must just be one of those.

While I had been ruminating, the cries of my pursuers had gotten closer. I thought I could almost hear the tramping of their feet as well.

I resolved to head to the stream or river and make my stand there. I could no longer outrun them, and if the body of water had any depth it might be able to slow the undead down as they came at me.

I got back up and rushed in the direction of the water, new energy filling me. If it was deep enough to slow them, it would also slow me when fording it, and it would be a poor death indeed if they fell upon me as I was swimming across. Damn that ROB, Madrigal or whatever the hell its actual name is. Being dropped deep into enemy territory does not end well. If I had known he could provide me with the abilities I requested if he got some damn game points back by dropping me into so much danger, I would have been happy to pass on some of them. Slowfall is useful but I could probably learn it with time. And immunity to the Scourge plague is only useful if I can survive the rest of the crap thrown my way.

A few minutes later, I found that I had been correct. A small river snaked its way down from the northern hills to my right, small waterfalls burbling slightly upstream, making the noise that had alerted me to its presence. Before me, a shallow dell lead down to the river, an auspicious bend in which provided me something to put at my back, as the river ran swiftly and deep enough to cause trouble with my armour and supplies weighing me down. If I moved upstream or downstream I could easily find a palace to ford it, but there was no time. Glancing back, I could see the glowing blue eyes of Scourge ghouls, skeletons, and raised soldiers and hear the triumph in their cries. I couldn't cross it in time.

There were far too many. But I could try to use it to protect my flanks, so they couldn't all swarm me at once.

With a sense of hopelessness, I jogged down into the dell and turned, drawing my blade. As the foul beasts crested the hill and started to follow me into the dell, I could see that some of them had tattered pieces of armour, some plate, but mostly rusted mail or torn leather. Few had helmets. Ghouls weren't a major threat with my armour unless they swarmed me, but I could see some of the armoured types of undead had rusty maces or notched swords in their bony fists.

Reaching out with my magical senses, I could feel the faint horror of the dying life around me as their undead feet stomped over it, as well as the complaints of the stream as it ran through tainted dirt.

When the first ghoul was only twenty feet away, I shifted my sword to a one-handed grip and cast my hand out at it, pushing feelings of heat and anger into and out of it. I just got here! I had the chance of a lifetime! No way in hell was I going to be killed by this weak, wretched monster! A stream of fire swept from my hand and crossed the gap between us, lashing out at the undead abomination. When it struck, it bloomed around the ghoul's form and licked hungrily at its rotted and diseased flesh. I shifted my aim to its closest buddies and felt the column of heat sear through them as well. Cutting the flame off, I smiled grimly when I saw my effort had destroyed only three of the monsters, a few dozen more were ready to take their place. "Well, looks like you picked the wrong guy Madrigal. I'm fucked. Sorry 'bout that."

Pulling on the memory of the life that remained within the ground, I urged it to get its revenge. Roots erupted from the ground beneath the feet of many Scourge, wrapping around their legs and halting their advance. A few of the more whole bodies began to hack at the roots with their blunted weapons, but barely did any damage.

I lifted my runesword into a guard stance and readied to swing at the first ghoul that came within melee range, when its head exploded in purple-black fire and it collapsed, flying past me. I flinched and probably would have been struck by the next ghoul when an entire wave of arrows whistled through the air around me and struck the leading Scourge elements, most killing their targets.

Glancing behind me, I could see the shadows of shapes on the other side of the river and the occasional glint as the moonlight reflected off of arrowheads. I could see eight or nine indistinct shapes, and from the accuracy of the arrows fired so far, they clearly weren't aiming at me.

Hope rearing in my heart, I turned back to the undead that yet beset me and launched into action. I charged at a skeleton and blocked its clumsy blow. Shoving it back with my blade, I whipped my runesword up and sliced the rotting flesh and exposed bone of its chest and ribs almost in half.

My heart hammered in my chest and I pushed the familiar urge for these corrupted monsters to burn and die into my swings. The runes on my sword glowed orange and fire wreathed its blade. My next swing at an undead made it burst into flame even though I had barely clipped it with the tip of my blade.

Roaring in fury at the lifeless things that sought to claim my life and add me to their ranks - or eat me - I thrust the blade of my sword into the ground. A line of fire raced from it into the ranks of the dead, melting four of them that had stood close together. I grinned with savage glee until a Scourge arrow glanced off of my shoulder guard and nearly buried itself in my neck.

I slowly advanced on the dwindling pack of Scourge, using wide sweeps of my blade to keep them at a manageable distance as they were picked off by arrows. Most of the Scourge bound by my roots had been sent to their second death, but I approached the few remaining and finished them for good measure.

A lance of pain hobbled me when a blade struck my bracer and was deflected. The rusty implement left a painful but surprisingly shallow gash in the flesh of my arm as it skipped across it. I turned and barely parried a second blow from the skeleton, breaking its guard long enough to remove its head. Glancing at the fresh arrow in its chest, a bolt of purple magic barely missed me, although it sent me on my ass among the fallen undead. I felt a chill when I turned my gaze to the rise of the dell the Scourge had chased me down and saw the black-robed necromancer there.

It was recognizably human, though it looked like a half-starved famine victim. A black, gnarled staff was in its hands, from which it threw another purple bolt of death magic. I grabbed the corpse of a dead ghoul and held it as a shield. The force of the spell sent it flying out of my hands, but I had escaped unscathed. I quickly climbed to my feet and stood in a guard stance. Preparing a spell of my own, I cut it off when I heard a loud twang! from close behind me and an arrow wreathed in purple light shot at the necromancer.

He casually raised his staff and a blackish-purple magical shield formed in front of him. I groaned when the arrow burst into flame and was incinerated upon touching it. I reached into my pool of mana and formed a small fireball, throwing the swirling ball of flame at the necromancer. It fizzled out before it even reached him.

The necromancer laughed. "Is this all you can conjure? Some paltry shadow magic and a less impressive fire than I could make with a log of wood? Peh. You mortals will be far better off in the service of the Scourge." He sneered at me. "I will rip the soul from your body and rebind it to your bones after I have stripped the flesh from them. You will know nothing but pain, torment, and eternal servitude to the Lich King!"

"We will never serve him! Never again!" shouted a female voice from right behind me. I flinched and glanced back. Well, now the necromancer's comment made sense. My mysterious rescuers were none other than a troop of Forsaken Dark Rangers. Unable to help myself, I smiled and bowed my head sardonically to whom appeared to be their leader. "Hello there."

Turning to me fully, she stood straight and replied. "General Kenobi! You are a bold one!"

...nah, just kidding.

The dark ranger nocked another arrow and her small group of comrades fired a volley of black arrows at the necromancer. Turning, I added my own firebolt to the mix. All of them fizzled out just as they had before, but this time the necromancer was forced to keep his shield up to defend against arrow after arrow.

But he wasn't idle either. Maintaining his shield, wisps of purple magic extended from him and wrapped around five of the undead we had killed. As one, they shuddered, took up their weapons, and rose back to their feet. None of the arrow fire redirected to the newly risen, leaving me to handle them, but as long as he maintained his shield like that, he was blinded.

Quick as I could, I rushed up the hill, my runesword held before me in a guard just in case he cast another bolt of death magic at me and I couldn't avoid it. The not-so-fresh undead were sluggish in their movements, only dangerous to the unarmed, or perhaps to archers forced to fire at another target. Running up the hill as fast as I could, I dismantled each of them on the way as they stumbled down to me, a quick movement of my sword all that was required to break their guards and land a crippling strike.

The arrows tapered off just before I reached him, and the necromancer just had time to put a surprised look on his face before my blade was thrust through his mouth and out the back of his head. He immediately fell limp and his weight was held up by nought but the blade. The squelching sound as I pushed him off of the blade with my foot was the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. Viscera and blood stained it. Extending my hand, a soft stream of flames first charred clean the gristle from my blade, then burned his corpse so he couldn't be risen.

Down the hill, I could see the dark rangers dragging the bodies into a pile for similar treatment. Completely wiped, I started trudging towards their leader.

Well, this would be interesting.


As it turns out, the Forsaken are just that unfriendly to the living. I mean sure, some of them having a deep dislike of the living is reasonable, after all, most of the living consider them monsters. But even after I greeted them with graciousness and thanked their leader, Anya Darkblade, for their aid, they were still being entirely unreasonable.

"Look, I get it, I do, but I really need to get to Quel'Thalas, I don't have time to delay," I said, frustrated with just about everything at this point. I had a basic plan of what I needed to do before the war in Northrend began.

"Good for you. Too bad. You're coming with us until I've ascertained you're not a Scourge agent. Just what in the hell are you doing in the middle of the plaguelands anyways, far behind enemy lines and with few supplies, if you aren't a Scourge agent?" Anya accused.

I shrugged. "I could ask you the same. My business is my own, as I'm sure is yours." He couldn't exactly explain he was dropped there by an extra-dimensional being.

She glared at me so hard I was sure I would burst into flame. Something that might actually be possible here in Azeroth. "We were sent by Lady Sylvanas to investigate increased Scourge troops movements in the east. We have reports of a flurry of activity around Naxxramas. So, what are you here for?"

"To be honest, I was practicing portal magic and kind of fell through an unstable gate. When I came to, I was in the middle of these deadlands.", I said faking embarrassment. It wouldn't look good but unless she had experience making portals - which I doubt since she is not a mage - she shouldn't be able to tell I was lying. As for her mission...it appears that the temporary master of Naxxramas was preparing for the Lich King's campaign in Tyr's Hand with the Death Knights of Acherus. 'Madrigal' said I would have a few months until the expansion started, so I probably have about 5 weeks until I had to get gone for sure from the plaguelands. I was NOT going to be there for Light's Hope Chapel. No way was I facing the Lich King at this point, let alone him and an entire Scourge army, including a battalion's worth of Death Knights. Once that battle was done, Naxxramas would be moved back to Northrend, Kel'Thuzad would be revived from his phylactery, and the opening skirmishes of Scourge troops popping up in Stormwind, Theramore and Orgrimmar would occur.

Before then, I needed to gain some brownie points with one or more of the faction leaders without going to Outland. The most convenient place to do so would be Quel'Thalas, as it is during the TBC expansion that they launch an offensive on the Scourge in the Ghostlands. Since the events of TBC weren't over quite yet, the assault on Deatholme probably hadn't taken place yet. Even if it had, there would be some serious cleaning up of Scourge to do there. With the Blood Elves at their weakest, especially after the loss of so many of their soldiers due to Kael'thas' treachery, they would be in desperate need of military aid.

It may be manipulative, but the best time to gain the gratitude of people is when they are at their weakest.

Anya stared at me in disbelief. "If that's the truth, that's pathetic. I saw you using both fire and nature magic. If you can use portals then clearly you're a mage, so how can you also use nature magic? The Kaldorei rejected arcane magic in favour of their druidism. So how can you use both?"

I winced. "Noticed that, did you. To be honest, I don't know. I've always been able to feel my mana, and for a while, I thought I could just use arcane. But slowly my magical sense has improved and since then, I've been able to feel the life around me, and eventually, influence it. I've only just started really since I haven't had a teacher." I'd always been rather good at bullshitting my way out of dangerous conversations. In a world of magic where I had no history or background? I'd be stretching those skills to the max. Fake it until you make it. "Although it seems to have an interesting effect on the undead when I channel both life and fire magic into one spell. Fire will burn through undead flesh pretty easily, but adding nature magic to it makes it seem alive, for lack of a better word. Gleeful, to burn undead. Now," I said a bit more cheerfully "I appreciate your help, as I would likely be dead if you hadn't come along. But I need to get to Quel'thalas."

Anya pursed her lips. "You have said why you were here, but I have no way to confirm it. You could be a Scourge agent. If you really did portal here, why don't you just portal back to wherever you were?"

I laughed weakly. "You mean to try the same thing that teleported me halfway around the world and hope I don't end up lost in the Twisting Nether? It's a miracle that a destabilized portal didn't obliterate me from existence. I won't be trying that again until I've had some professional tutelage."

She stared at me accessingly. "You don't seem to have any death magic clinging to you other than the lingering miasma from the blight fog in the eastern plaguelands." She stepped closer and examined my face. "And there's no corruption in your skin. Perhaps…"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I'm not Scourge. Hell, I was being chased and fighting them when you found me!"

Anya watched me, unmoving. "Fine. You may be on your way in a few days, once we have crossed back into western Lordaeron." She raised a pointed finger in a threatening gesture. "If I feel there's so much of a hint that you are Scourge, or otherwise have intentions hostile to the Forsaken, I'll put an arrow in your eye faster than you can blink. Understand?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"I never got your name."

"...you can call me Helios."

Oh, joy. Company.


A/N: And that's it for this chapter. The first arc is set up, we got some lore and some combat. If you're wondering why Helios' fire seemed so effective against the Scourge, well this isn't modern retail where some of the coolest gameplay elements have been removed. This is the real world! Dried-out undead flesh will be more vulnerable to fire than it is to ice. So for now, Helios has a little buffer against his primary opponents. We'll see how he does when he fights demons. You may also wonder why he is at all capable with his sword. Since 'Madrigal' granted him abilities in fire and nature magic, as well as melee combat, he has refined, if basic understanding of swordsmanship. Follow, favourite, and review!

Note: Edited 12/03/22