Necri rode the Felsteed south through the rolling hills and drifting mist of Tirisfal, heading for the narrow mountain pass that ran between its southeast edge and the westernmost reaches of the Darrowmere Forest. She passed ruined farms and homesteads separated by broken fences, and was surprised to see movement in the overgrown fields. Curious, she slowed her mount and drew closer.
A living horse might have sensed the unnatural presence and shied away, but the Felsteed had no such fears. The figures that lurched out toward her were severely rotted and missing large chunks of their bodies - even more decrepit than the most broken of Forsaken she had seen. The unseeing eyes and raw, hungry gape of their mouths left no doubt as to their lack of conscious minds. They were creatures driven by unending agony and inhuman instinct. Such creatures had many names, such as ghoul, ghast, and zombie, but no matter what they were called, they were dangerous to the living -and- the free-thinking undead.
An urgent mental command sent Necri's mount galloping away from the mindless creatures. They pursued at a shambling pace, but soon fell behind and out of sight.
Perhaps these were the rotten remnants of the now-leaderless Scourge? The dead, raised from the grave to fight again, controlled and abused, only to be released upon the death of their lord. Even once freed from the Lich King's mental control, not all of the restless dead would have been able to recover from their experiences and retain their sanity as the Forsaken had.
Necri's mind turned to the Crusaders she had just fought. She knew all too well that one could easily go mad, fighting so long in the very face of such darkness. Perhaps this is what happened to them - pushed to the edge of sanity by staring into the black abyss of death.
With evening's darkness creeping through the trees, Necri finally happened upon a road, with skeletons and broken carts scattered along it. Misty shadows seemed to scatter reluctantly from the remains at her passing. The carts themselves had long since been looted of anything useful or whole, but she could make out the remnants of what must have been entire families' worldly goods - the possessions of those desperate enough to abandon homesteads to try and escape the tide of destruction rolling across the land.
She rode steadily southwest along the road as the stars began to fade into view, obscured intermittently by the drifting mists. The hills rolled higher around her and crowded in on the road, and she knew she was drawing closer to the pass.
Multiple torches lit the road as she came around the final bend. Tall towers and stone walls flanked the pass, and multiple figures moved amongst the tents in the firelight at their base. Necri paused and considered this development. She hadn't expected the pass to be defended.
Whatever faction was in control here, she was evidently in the rear area of the defenses; behind the lines rather than standing before the wall. Thus, it was Tirisfal that was being protected from Darrowmere. Would she even be allowed to travel through? There was only one way to find out.
Necri slowed her pace and approached cautiously. She saw the blue banner of the Forsaken hanging from one tower, but from the other was a silver banner that she did not recognize. She moved closer, hoping that the presence of the Forsaken indicated the presence of allies.
Finally, a grating voice echoed out in the night's silence: "Ho, traveller! If you be an ally of the Dark Lady, approach freely and be welcome!"
Since she had obviously been spotted, she nudged the Felsteed forward until she passed through the tents and low walls on the outside of the camp. She saw multiple archers, both undead and human, tracking her approach. Remembering all too well the warnings she had been given in Undercity, she kept a wary eye on the humans, but their grim expressions were little different than those of their Forsaken counterparts. No hatred or fear burned in their eyes, just the hardness of soldiers long accustomed to their work.
At the base of the wall, an armoured, axe-wielding Forsaken stepped forward to greet her. He seemed not at all unnerved by her Felsteed's nature, but his face - what was left of it - frowned at her. "Executor Derrington, commander of the Bulwark. And you are?" His voice was suspicious, his eyes narrowed.
"Necri," she responded calmly, and bowed her head slightly. "From Undercity." She saw no reason to go into detail.
"And where do you think you are going?"
"Through the Darrowmere Forest, then north."
Derrington's remaining eyebrow shot up. "Darrowmere? It hasn't been called that since the Scourge turned it into a cesspit. It's known as the Plaguelands now."
It was Necri's turn to be shocked. Her anticipation of seeing the beautiful forest crumbled. "A cesspit!"
"Aye, though that's being unkind to cesspits in general. You don't know what happened here?"
"I was dead for a long time. My only memories are of when it was green and growing."
Derrington gave her an appraising look. "That was... some years back. Follow me." He moved to the gap between the towers, which was currently blocked with a massive iron gate. Necri spurred her steed after him, ignoring the curious stares of the humans and the other Forsaken.
Through the gate in the wall, the road continued, lit for a short distance by the braziers set atop the walls. Though the darkness prevented Necri from seeing very far into the forest, the pervasive silence that haunted Tirisfal wound its way through these trees as well.
Derrington waved his arms out toward the darkness. "This is where the Plague of Undeath that started the Scourge had its beginning. This is where Arthas and his lieutenants began infecting and building his army of undead. We stand here at the Bulwark to stop its remnants - and those of the equally-fanatical Scarlet Crusade - from invading Tirisfal in force. In those goals, the Argent Dawn are our reluctant allies."
Now Necri knew who had attacked her. "The Scarlet Crusade? They -are- in Tirisfal already." She pointed back the way she had come.
"It's true. They have a rabbit-warren of keeps and secret paths across the entire northern half of the continent. They're everywhere. But if they wanted to move significant troops or material into Tirisfal, they'd have to use this pass - that's what we're here to stop. The few that make it into Tirisfal are usually kept at bay by Undercity's patrols and Caretakers."
Necri tried to summon a mental image of the legless Ropart fighting the fanatical Crusaders, but she couldn't quite make it work. It seemed absurd that he would be given the responsibility of defending the area against such capable combatants. She put that aside, and turned back to the matter at hand. Glancing out over the darkened woods before her, she asked, "is the road through to the north still passable?"
Derrington hesitated, then nodded slowly. "It's passable, if you keep your wits about you and that blade sharp. We haven't heard of any Scourge or Redcoat forces massing recently, but there are never any guarantees. If you make it as far as the Thondroril River, you will find the towers the Argent Crusade maintains through the region. I'd suggest checking in with\ them to find out if they've seen anything you need to be aware of."
Necri nodded slowly. Her voice was even quieter than normal. "Thank you. I will do that."
Two of the Argent Dawn soldiers began turning the great wheels that raised the gate off the ground, but Derrington thrust his axe out in front of Necri's steed before she could ride off. "One more thing. Of all the humans I've dealt with since awakening, the Argent folks are the -only- ones who look at us as allies. Like us, they've been haunted by the Scourge. Treat them with respect. They've earned it."
"Don't worry. I know we have too many enemies already. I don't intend to alienate the few that might still call us allies." With that, she spurred her steed forward. Behind her, the gate rattled back down and hit the road surface with a thud.
With no need to worry about tiring her mount, Necri started off at a good pace. It seemed to take only moments to pass beyond the range of the braziers' light, and into the blackness of the Plaguelands. In Necri's enhanced vision, the struggling trees stretched desperately to the sky, seeking what little life remained in this twisted land, while the decayed husks of dead ones lay rot-covered across the ground like massive dead soldiers.
The road wound steadily eastward. After several hours, Necri caught glimpses of fields in the moonlight, with tall crops shimmering in the slight breeze. Amazed that anything would grow in this place, Necri decided against approaching it. Stung earlier by the sudden appearance of zombies, there was the additional possibility here that the farms were run by the Scarlet Crusade.
Dawn had begun to break by the time she came across a major intersection. The road she was on turned to the northeast at the same time that it was met by a wide, and equally poorly-maintained, road from the south.
Her momentum stumbled and failed - she remembered this place. The images leapt to her mind with full force, overwhelming her senses.
Under the green canopy of the forest, the human forces moved like a long snake. Unit by unit, with grim military precision, they marched northward down the hill and made the eastward turn that would take them closer to Zul'Aman. Scattered throughout the column's length were the one hundred newly-trained mages, many of them eager to test their fireballs and ice lances against the greatest enemy their race had ever known. They wore no armour, merely clothes of wool and linen. For weapons, they carried only runed staves and ritual daggers given to them by the Elves.
She had been assigned a spot in the middle of the troops, riding a thin brown horse and protected on all sides by armoured knights and footmen. They passed the logging town of Andorhol, cheered on by the locals. One girl even ran up and thrust a ragged bouquet of flowers at her.
Pride and foreboding battled within her throughout the journey. She had long since accepted that her command of the world's elemental forces would separate her from the rest of humanity. People always feared that which they could not understand, and a number of the mages had whispered between themselves of the fear and awe that the 'mundane' soldiers and citizens had begun to hold them in.
But in her particular case, there was even more than that. Though not long out of her training period, she had already begun crafting the spells that forced the demons of the Burning Legion to teach her the darker arts. Already she knew her True Name, the one that would enhance her power even further. Even the other mages would not travel the paths she had willfully placed her feet upon. They could not understand, so she kept such knowledge buried deep in her heart and mind.
For two days, the column worked its way eastward through the forests and farms, toward the grand edifice of the Dwarven-built Thondroril Bridge, gateway to the wilds of the Deep Darrowmere Forest. The young mage, who had secretly begun referring to herself as Necri - a diminutive of her True Name - kept to herself throughout the trip, brooding and musing on the future.