~*~ Author's Notes ~*~

I got a grand piece of writing advice from a friend: "If a scene ever seems to drag and you cant get it to flow properly, just make something explode. In stories, as in real life, stuff blowing up tends to be a nice 'reset' button the situation!"

I intend to use that advice in latter chapters, randomly and without warning.

I should have used it in this chapter near the end of the fourth page :P

~*~ Chapter 27 ~*~

Half the stack of spider meat was gone before he could react. Granted it had not been a big stack to begin with, it was meat he was quite fond of. The Druid didn't know that however.

They fought, Blood Elf and feline rolling across the floor in a mad chaos of whirling hair and lashing tale. She at least had sense not to shred him with her claws, though the temptation to mar him, as she had been marred was certainly there. His skin was baby soft and event though she was trying not to hurt him there were still many little red and white lines on his arms and calves before she got done.

Both of them were thinking the same thing, that the other was stronger than they looked: him for being a spell flinger whom her people looked down on, and she for being so small and weak from hunger. Her jaws were around one ankle before either of them noticed the scowling Forsaken Warlock in pristine robes standing over them with a tap tap tap of his bony foot on the floor.

Serz leveled judgment faster than any Paladin. "Most unbecoming!" The Aura of Condemnation hit them faster than they could jump apart as well.

"Oh, thank the Light!" the Priest exclaimed in a begging position, "She can't cook. Tell me you can cook?"

"Were you going to make her cook for you by sitting on her?" Serz neatly side stepped a foot meant to trip him.

The scout was by the table looking over the meat, "Quite a selection here. Did you go to town as well?"

The Priest seemed genuinely affronted, "I have a Druid, why would I buy meat?"

Kayas shifted to her elfin form the same time Caspin beat a hasty retreat from the table. It was her food and not shared goods. Something about his attitude irked the Druid and stopped whatever she'd been about to inform the arrogant Priest. It was insulting enough for him to think her an abomination, but quit another for him to shy away from anything she owned as well!

"From what I know," Serze explained, setting his packages down on a broken chair, "the kaldorie have a tradition that whoever does the hunting gets to relax while someone else does the cooking. Seeing as she is quite a skilled hunter I can imagine that it would have been rude if anyone had allowed her to stay in the kitchen to cook as well."

"He gets it." Kayas pointed to the Warlock, who inclined his head humbly.

The Priest stood; "Where I'm from –"

"I'd think carefully before finishing that sentence, m' Lord."

The Priest realized the Druid was back in her feline form… and behind him. Caspin had backed himself into a corner. The Druid only needed one more reason to knock the eldest elf on his butt again and the scout wanted not to be in the way.

Serze broke the tension with a sweeping bow, "I'm not near as accomplished a cook as I've heard your Corrosa is, but I shall do what I can if you grant me the honor of serving you and your ward."

"She's my prisoner," the Priest corrected taking a seat by the fire near Mr. Meow, "not my protégé as young Caspin here is to you."

"Of course." The Warlock apologized with another sweeping bow, "Not nearly the same circumstances."

The circumstances were never elaborated upon. The Warlock asked/ordered Caspin to help him prepare the meal. Kayas watched with some bit of fascination as they turned what had a few hours ago been completely inedible meat into edible creations. The smell was heavenly and the way he went about the preparation reminded him very much of the way Corrosa did. Even the way he shook out the spices had her wrist-flick to it.

"I take it you've spent quite a bit of time around the other Warlock, then?" Kayas asked.

Serzed smiled, "Yes, Corrosa and I go back a fair few years. We were amongst those originally freed from the Lich King when the Banshee Queen broke away."

Kayas hadn't expected this. They had served under Sylvanas in death… under the Litch King together.

Caspin mouthed something to the Priest. Jetadiah rolled his eyes, a wide smirk matching the twinkle in his eyes. The two were in agreement over something, which was for certain. Caspin chuckled quietly and went back to tenderizing the next round of steaks to go on the fire.

Kayas, between watching what Serz was doing with the fire and the meat, stalked and pounced with Mr. Meow. Jetadiah ordered them outside at one point when both ran between his legs and nearly sent him flying into the wary scout. The house was rather small and despite this the grace of both parties alone prevented collision disasters.

Kayas opened the door and the large black panther went flying outside. Both nearly collided into the old Forsaken man who had spend the better half of the day walking by the house. No doubt he was headed to the zeplin tower that could be seen in the far, far distance. He waved and smiled, half rotted face the stuff of nightmares. The Druid shifted into a cat again and went racing after the other feline.

They raced together threw the muddy streets of this town called Brill. It had apparently been a large town* in its hay day, though most of it was in ruins now. A few lights could be seen flickering inside the dilapidated buildings. Occasionally someone would poke a head out of a building or hastily beat a retreat into the shadows.

It was odd to the Druid that no matter where threw the undead town she chased the other cat, it seemed as if the dead quiet followed her around. Before she got to a corner she could hear the sound of a blacksmith's hammer or sound of chatter in a shop. As she neared, the sounds would all die. Then as she passed, they would resume again. It was a very creepy effect the Druid did not like. Life followed her kind around, no death.

She cornered Mr. Meow in an alley and was about to move in for the win** when two Forsaken guards rounded the corner and stopped. Both females, they swayed with undead grace on legs that were missing all of their skin and most of the meat. The Druid, knowing she could best the civilians if it came to it, hadn't anticipated the town being patrolled by actual Deathguards from the Undercity.

The guards gazed at her a moment… and walked on. Kayas shifted into her upright form and was about to demand some explanation – she was not Forsaken after all – when a cold hand clamped around the back of her neck.

"There has to be a better way of saying hello." She growled out. The guards continued to walk away.

She was roughly pushed down to her knees; she stayed down. Insolence would not win her any less time in this being's company.

The Banshee Queen released her, stepping back. "The Priest is upset and this bothers me. Not that I mind him hiding in my town, though if he bring the Alliance down on me – again – I'm going to be very angry."

"I fail to see what this has to do with me." Her voice shook, the dread in her stomach spreading to every limb and caused shivers in the cool of the shadows.

Mr. Meow, for his part, had taken to curling himself around the Forsaken Queens legs as if she were the kindest old lady in the world and would pull out a ball of yarn if he purred loud enough.

"I hate to point out the obvious," the Druid began, "but he is upset that you have his Warlock." Swift resolution was needed or more than a voice would going to be shaking.

"Yes, yes. Always about Corrosa with him." The Dark Lady was petting the large head of the purring panther absently, scratching around his ears and under his chin. "Do let him know she's ridding the Cathedral of some of its Scarlet zealots." The wicked edge of satisfaction in her voice, as if she were picturing the scene of this news delivery, were evident in the purring of the undead woman's voice.

"Ah... yes, ma'am." She cleared her throat, "He knows what a 'scarlet zealot' is, mayhap? Should I deliver an explanation as well?" See, I can be helpful? Please don't hurt me- again.

The Dark Lady laughed, a deep and full-throated laugh that proved both lungs were still in place and capable of moving air should she choose to make such a noise. The panther warbled in response, butted his head against her leg in demands of more pettings. A black-gloved hand founds its way under the chin once more.

"I forget for a moment," she murmured, though her voice was for the cat she petted and not the Druid she tormented, "that you are young in the ways of this world. The Scarlet Crusade is the biggest enemy my people face in Lordaeron. The entire kingdom belongs to me now, but for these pockets of humans who managed to survive the Plague and took up arms against the undead."

There was a short pause and the next set of words were directed at her, "That means you as well, little undead kitten. They will have your head for bearing the plague, though the Priest's gifts have salvaged a soul in that body of yours." She seemed to want to say more on that topic, but she let it drop as heavy as oily sand.

Instead she went on with the pervious line of inquiry, "I have tried to be their friend and send emissaries to explain that we are no longer of the Scourge. They have sent my emissaries back as sacks of dust. They attack my caravans, refuse to yield the precious few acres of land that can still be farmed here, slay my people at every opportunity and – what is worst of all – fight under a blood stained banner that is a mockery of what the formerly Human members of Lordaeran fought and died for to begin with."

Maybe it was spending too much time in this place… maybe it was the Priest or her dreams… maybe it was her nature as a Druid but… "They called this land home and they fought the Scourge to keep it. I do not blame them for not yielding to you." Her boldness would curry her no favor, but no favors did she want from this hateful dead Quel'dorie.

"I am not cruel; I am thorough. Unlike the kaldorie, I have learned that if you cannot get everyone to fall in line on way, then you must use other methods. They have refused to yield in life, either to leave my lands or to join us in our quest to destroy the man who did this to all of us, and so I send them a gift of death." The Dark Lady's words were harsh and edged with a hint of pleasure. Yes, this woman liked having control over life and death and did not hesitate to exercise that control.

Kayas was shocked. "But these lands belong to them! The dead have no right to come back-" she cut off her own argument, seeing it was on the Queen of the Forsaken. "My people banished yours for blowing up half the world. What else was to be done? You want to blame Arthas for the Plague? Blame yourselves!" She was mad now, spitting tempter into the ground where she knelt by the iron-clad boot of the walking dead. If not for the giant cat the Dark Lady may have demanded recompense for her insolence, but as it was…

Mr. Meows propped himself up on his back legs and wrapped both arms around the Banshee Queen, head butting her even as she tried to push the heavier cat away. "Do not quote my own history to me, child. I was there, after all. Yes, the qual'dorie were reckless with their magic – but my people took measures to make sure the same thing did not happen to us." The former High Elf almost fell over trying to escape a tongue mean to lick her face, "Mel'odie, get down!"

Well, Kayas decided, watching from the corner of her eye as the dark cat and the Dark Lady interacted, this was certainly interesting… When the large cat was on his back in the dirt batting at a thickly booted leg, the undead Queen knelt down with exaggerated eye rolling and scratched his warm tummy. The sharpened metal tips of those wrought gauntlets would have shred anyone else.

The sermon went on as if she were not being bossed around by an overgrown housecat, "No one on this earth could have gotten past the Elfin Gates if we had not been so betrayed by Dar'khan Drathir." Her voice grew quiet and soft, "Lore hates himself for his part in that betrayal." Who 'Lore' is was never elaborated upon. "Now the Prince is gone threw the Dark Portal to find a cure for the addiction, for good they say, and Lore is left to baby-sit the throne in his absence.

But that is another thing. First I must rid Loarderon of the Scarlet Scourge, and then rid Northrend of Arthas. Then I will find a cure for the Plague, a cure for the Hunter and restore Quel'thalas. Only then can I … " … go home to rest.

A realization came over the Druid just then; a startling revelation that shifted everything into a sort of tragic melody of perspective. … The Dark Lady cared about her people, forever was stuck in a past where it had her job to keep Qual'thalas safe. Everything the fallen High Elf did and everything she had been revolved around protecting her people from destruction… but when she failed she had not been granted death. Brought back as a Banshee to serve the man who had destroyed her homeland and decimated her people… she would forever be trying to fix whatever mistake had cost them everything.

She blamed herself for the fall of Qual'thalas, the destruction of the Sunwell, the devastation of her people and the corruption of the land. And now that she had a chance to set things right – no matter how twisted her version of right was – the Queen she became, for all those who were victims of the Plague, was going to see them into the future. No matter what the cost.

~*~End Notes~*~

*According to Wowiki, Brill had been a small town but I think this is probably a mistake. Consider that Lordaeron consisted of Tirisfal Glade, Eastern and Western Plaguelands, Silverpine Forests, Hillsbrad Foothills, part of the Alterac Mountains, the Hinterlands and Qual'thalas… no way the nearest town to the seat of all that power is going to be 'small'.

** Sorry, had to work that phrase in somewhere – it's a Warcraft, after all – the win is everything

*** Before Forsaken could be Hunters, remember