Sylvanas had been dead for some time now, and she still felt disgusted in her body. Her spirit was driven to stay in this body by some unholy power, and the dysphoria of existing as a being that should not exist haunted her every day. The blighted ground beneath her camp sent chills through her dead nerves, but they may as well have been heat waves. No beating heart, no body heat.
The lack of heat didn't bother her. She wasn't in Quel'thalas anymore, so of course she wouldn't feel warm. But there was just…nothing. She couldn't feel aching in her bones, nor could she feel the slow build to a crescendo of her heart when she was in action. She was cold through and through.
"You seem troubled, mistress." One of her newly liberated banshee sisters called out to her, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned and looked over the decrepit form she knew she shared under the flesh of her slowed-to-a-halt-rotting corpse.
"Aren't you, sister?" she asked, voice almost trembling and echoing in the way that a banshee's voice always did. "Only days ago we were the Lich King's slaves. We existed…only to slaughter in his name.
"And now we are free."
"I don't understand, mistress. I thought you'd be overjoyed." The genuine concern that could form on a spirit's face was almost surprising. Without the power of the Lich King over them, their individuality sprouted once more.
Sylvanas sighed and turned from her sister. "What joy is there in this curse? We are still undead, sister. Still monstrosities." Her even tone was building to a scream, a horrifying curse that echoed through the war camp. "What are we if not slaves to this torment?"
Her banshee sister nearly responded, but before she had the chance the telltale sound of a Legion portal opening and all idea of talking about anything except business vanished.
Through the oval that formed in the air, the familiar form of Varimathras stepped through. A huge demon lord of the Burning Legion, plated in red and black and standing menacingly over the small, still elven, banshee forms. His voice echoed with a power beyond the world of Azeroth, and what he said caused Sylvanas to frown.
"Greetings, Lady Sylvanas. My brothers and I appreciate the role you played in overthrowing Arthas. I've come to offer you a formal invitation to join our new order." It was too sweet a deal from a demon lord, too kind. The way in which he spoke was as if to a friend, yet still in that horrid booming voice.
The former ranger scoffed. "Varimathras." The word dripped like acid from her mouth, the bile holding still in her veins almost physically seeping from her tongue. "My only interest was in seeing Arthas dead. I have no time for your petty politics or power mongering."
"Careful, milady. It would be unwise to incur our wrath. We are the future of these," he gestured to the blighted ground around them, "Plaguelands. You can either join us and rule…or be cast aside."
Raising her bow and pointing it at Varimathras' throat, she spat, "I lived as a slave long enough, dreadlord. I won't relinquish my freedom by shackling myself to you fools!"
With a shrug, Varimathras steps back to his portal. "So be it. Our reply will come soon." And with another quick step, the portal closed, leaving the banshees once again alone in their camp.
"This means we have little time before a demonic assault from all sides, mistress. What must I do?"
Sylvanas cursed the name of every demon she knew before responding, her mouth running in both the humans' Common and her natural Thalassian. The words melded together in such a way it might have been poetic — if not for the nature of their meaning. "Collect the meat wagons and fill them with corpses, line the camps. I need a party of ghouls, necromancers, banshees, and as many abominations as we can put together in the next two hours. We need more allies if we are to counter the demon's assault."
"Of course, mistress." The banshee rose several feet before making back off into the camp.
The dark ranger, the current only one of her kind, started parading through camp. She watched as corpses stored for later use were forced up and onto their feet, with all the autonomy they could desire without the control of the Lich King. Her necromancers came out of the quickly built blighted stronghold, using the more decomposed corpses as tools for crafting new abominations.
Each stitch that went together in the abomination was both fascinating and utterly disgusting. At the end, they were hideous amalgamations of former Scourge, former elves, and former humans. No one would recognize any individual piece now.
With her collection of troops, Sylvanas began to traipse into the wilds of Lordaeron. She sent banshees ahead to scout, hiding with their ghastly forms and reporting to her before she led her mismatched troops ahead. A forward party of Legion demons found them on their way, and Sylvanas led the charge directly into their ranks.
It was only footsoldiers, low ranking demons and expendable ones at that. Two her banshees possessed, bringing her demonic soldiers for until they expelled the cursed ghosts. When they had cut down all but one lone imp, Sylvanas gave the order to halt.
The ground was red and green with demon blood. It was burned, covered in the poison from her black arrows. The land was sickening just from the death and fire that covered it. The imp cowered in terror, surrounded by huge creatures it could not hope to defeat.
The dark ranger reached down and lifted the imp up by the back of its neck. "Listen well, little imp. Return to your masters, and tell Varimathras that the forsaken undead will never bow again to any master. Not even him." Then she dropped it, letting it make a terrible noise as it impacted the ground.
"Yes, of course, right away," it said as it scurried back off in the direction it had come, as rapidly as it could manage on its disgusting little feet.
"Mistress, why did you let it go?" asked one of the felguards who her banshee companion had possessed.
"Simple." Sylvanas began retrieving her arrows, returning them to the quiver on her back. "I cannot earn the respect of the Legion until I am a threat. I am telling Varimathras that I am a threat."