Arthas gasped in pain, a knife running across his skin. Black blood oozed out of the wound, and the man gritted his torturer was silent, which should be expected since he had no jaw. It was disgusting to look at, so Arthas tried to not look whenever possible. He was strapped down on a table. He had been brutally tortured for the past severals days, being burnt, cut, and beaten. They were confused by why his body was not healing fast, but Arthas had no response to that. Bodies took a while to heal, but they seemed to not realized that. The undead thought he should heal instantly by the sound of it.
A dark robed human woman was standing in the corner of the room, calmly observing Arthas being cut open. He struggled in his bonds, but was barely able to move an inch.
"Something must have happened to your second resurrection, deathknight. Do you know?"
Arthas winced, and growled, "No idea. Why am I being tortured?"
The woman laughed, "Why, because we can, deathknight. You are not on our side, so you must be an enemy,"
He tried to tell the woman he was a paladin, and always would be, but the undead torturer twisted the man's wrist, which had been broken two days earlier. Arthas screamed in pain, and prayed to the Light. It would probably not answer him, but he wished it would. He was not a murderer...Not the Lich King. He was Arthas Menethil, son of Terenas and Lianne Menethil and Prince of Lordaeron. Paladin of...
Oh, who was he kidding? He was not a paladin anymore. He wished he was though. Not some unholy corpse brought back to a half-life.
The grating of a metal sounded outside of the room Arthas was being tortured. There was footsteps, and the door to the room opened.
Two night elf deathknights came in, one that brought Arthas to this place.
"Told you it was him, didn't I?" The one said to the other. The other stared at Arthas and there was recognition, and then looked to the torturer.
"Let him go, now." He said quietly. The jawless undead nodded, and undid the man's bonds. He heard the elf tell the others to leave, and they did. He came over to Arthas, who just groaned.
"Arthas Menethil. Well, you are in a sorry state. Can you walk?"
"No..." The torturer had broken some bones in the man's leg.
The elf looked at him curiously.
"You...aren't healing. That's not good. Was there a lich that resurrected you?"
Arthas grimaced, and sat up painfully. "A what? All I saw was a bunch of robed mages-"
The night elf tilted his head in confusion. "Necromancers, yes. Nothing else?"
"I don't think so...They, uh, tried to give me blood. Of a sapphire or something. But I ran."
"Sapphire? They tried to make you drink her blood? Oh, that's stupid. They couldn't find a lich to help them, so they did a resurrection ritual that requires the blood of a relative. Idiotic bastards."
"Relative?"
This time the elf did not answer. He looked at the man with shock. Next he spoke, it seemed more to himself than to Arthas.
"By all that is unholy, He doesn't remember. Don't tell me he has amnesia. "
Arthas scowled. "I don't know any relative of mine named Sapphire. Who is she?"
He saw the look on the elf's face, and suddenly wished he hadn't asked. The elf looked almost sympathetic, and pained.
"Your daughter, of course."
The Eastern Plaguelands were worse than the western half. It was dark and foggy in the middle of the day. Trees were even more grotesque than before, fleshy tumors moving as if breathing. The orange and red fog polluted the air, causing Sapphire to cough sporadically. Ethan was allowed to mount Invincible again, and the horse sped off quickly, as fast as he could without leaving Tryg behind. Rot was being carried by the ghoul, squirming around happily.
Ethan sat in the front of the saddle, Sapphire behind him. She had her arms around his waist, and her head laying against his back. Before, he would have enjoyed such contact. But now he just wondered what had made her decide to be nicer. She still snapped at him, but made up for it in kissing and cuddling up against him. They had been traveling for a day past the Thondroril river. Ethan would not be able to get Sapphire food until Light's Hope Chapel. She would have to stay there while Ethan went to speak to the Highlord since she did not want to go to the necropolis.
No undead attacked them. They went unmolested as they traveled in the plaguelands. The first night they spent there, Ethan had gone into the woods looking for any kind of wood, but when he came back he found Sapphire being licked by several wild plaguehounds, the girl laughing and smiling. She had been so happy.
They passed by a place called Northdale. Sapphire suggested going there, but Ethan just looked at her, and informed her the town was full of undead. That earned him a sharp retort and a suggested that his birth was illegitimate.
"Yours is less legitimate than mine!" He said, but with an amused tone.
It calmed Sapphire down at the very least. She coughed again.
Ethan grabbed Invincible's reins, but the horse whinnied, and tugged in a different direction. The horse wanted to go north, not east. The boy struggled with the horse, but Sapphire had the final word.
"Invincible! Go where Ethan wants you to," She said soothingly. The animal shook its head, but did as Sapphire told him. It burst into a run, and Tryg made a noise of surprise as he followed after them.
When the group got close to Light's Hope, Sapphire grew nervous. They made Tryg and Rot hide at a circle of trees, and the two humans got closer with Invincible. Then, Ethan dismounted and helped Sapphire. Sapphire was frowning.
"Don't worry, Ethan. I can get there by myself. Can't you just make a deathgate to the necropolis?"
"I guess...Are you sure you want to go alone?" The deathknight asked. He took her by the arm, but she quickly pulled it away.
"Yes! I'll be fine!" She snarled.
Ethan scowled. "Fine, then. I will see you later then."
He left briskly. Sapphire sighed, and quickly ran to Invincible. She mounted him, and the horse reared up on two legs, neighing. He sprinted forward into a full on gallop. She did not bother to collect Rot and Tryg. Invincible spread out his wings, flapping them. He quickly jumped, and put himself into flight, pumping his wings.
Sapphire felt the dark, fouled wind of the Eastern Plaguelands. The girl coughed from the fog. Invincible flew north, over the diseased forests.
Soon, she saw the ruins of Stratholme from above. Black smoke filtered above the city, and ziggurats was in the front of the place in a place called Plaguewood. Sapphire told Invincible to land, and he did so. He landed among the spongy soil of Plaguewood, his hooves sinking into the stuff. Large fungus grew up taller than trees, mushrooms of all kinds.
Sapphire barely was able to register her surroundings before she was greeted. Cultists, hooded and silent, came walking up. One had robes of a finer quality, and purple decorated the fringes. The leader stepped forward.
"Greetings, Master. You accepted the invitation?"
The girl looked at him with contempt. "Yes, I have. Are we going to enter, or what?"
She gestured to the main entrance of the city, that looked similar to Stormwind. The cultists looked to each other.
"We do not enter through that entrance. Please, follow us."
Sapphire looked confused, but told Invincible to follow. They went to the right of the main entrance, moving past giant mushrooms and groups of undead. They watched the procession, but did nothing. Sapphire was thankful for it. They came to a grated entrance, again with stone walls. It opened slowly, a large metallic creak that made Sapphire wince.
"Welcome to Stratholme, Queen Sapphire. There are many that wish to meet you."
Sapphire curled her lip at the title, but allowed it for the moment. Invincible trotted into the entrance, the girl mentally bracing herself to whatever was inside.