Andorhal Guardhouse, Two Months After N’Zoth’s Defeat
In those closing days of the Blood War and the succession of Horde chieftains in the chaos of those times, the question of who would control the Forsaken in the absence of the Dark Lady had become complex. A few pale heads had raised, their bone clawed hands reaching for an invisible crown that would afford them some measure of legitimacy over the exiting undead. Lordaeron, whose upper reaches of the Tirisfal had been devastated by the Alliance counterattack, found itself split yet again. A civil war had threatened to stain uncivil hands with blood.
The city that had survived Alliance siege through the course of the Blood War, Andorhal, was the major city to turn against the Horde. The red-and-black banners struck in favor of a new flag, or rather, a city’s take on an older standard. Before it’s fall, Old Lordaeron’s flag was a white or beige field adorned with the letter ‘L’ formed from what appeared to be jagged iron. The Lordaeron ‘L’ flew once again, it’s only change was the L was the purplish blue common to the Undead, rather than the royal blue-and-gold of the Alliance or the crimson colors of the Scarlet Crusade. They had rejected the claims of the Horde and made no secret as Orcs and Tauren retreated through the passes near Hammerfall that they would be fired upon if they neared the Undead city. It was closed to them, forcing the soldiers whose skin was not pale and exposing bone to seek refuge away from the city, either in the wilds, or under the rules and protections of the drudic Cenarion Circle. Feelings had been bitter amongst the former allies at Andorhal’s insistence of independence from the faction war.
Madalyn was one of the Forsaken that had snuck into the city through its battered battlements in order to learn what she could and report back to her superiors in the field. For her trouble, she found herself hanging with arms suspended over her head. Her dull yellow eyes looking into the grey face of her captor. She had taken her capture fairly well, she only cursed and kicked the guards once or twice as she was suspended and swinging.
“You got something to say to us little spy?” Lieutenant Schreck asked, his arms were crossed over his chest as he watched her. As her eyes flicked over him she noted that he continued to wear the markings of a Stone Guard despite using a Lordaeron title. A mixture of old and new on the man with the semi-tattered officer’s uniform.
“By the orders of Legionnaire Angerfang, you are hereby commanded to yield the castle to the Horde, by refusing you are committing tre-’’ She was stopped as one of Schreck’s men stepped forward and delivered a silencing blow to her cheek. She hissed as she felt a touch of bone beneath her alabaster skin had been exposed by the heavy punch. Her eyes fixed and narrowed at the soldier whose purple lips formed an ire raising smirk as he stepped back.
Schreck remained all-business, much like his dress, his hair was as professional and kempt as the undead could manage. The tresses were oily black and cut so that the curled ends would not touch his collar. His skin was the same shade of alabaster as Madalyn’s, a touch darker at the cheeks and around the eyes compared to her pallor. Both prisoner and guardsmen maintained a semi-athletic build, a hint of their previous life where she was a hired killer, and he was a professional soldier. He neither joined in the smirking of his adjutant, nor did he forbid his man from laying hands on the Rogue. He merely looked at her as she continued to sway.
“The council has heard your orders, Miss Morrow,” He said, “And we have given our answer in cannon and crossbow shot at any Horde that approaches us. The only reason your head has not adorn the wall is because of your familial connection to us as a people. If you were an Orc spy.” He shook his head, hinting at what the hangmen or the headsmen would have been appointed for her, “The era of a united Horde has ended, Morrow. We were fools to not turn upon a foreign Queen who took the throne in the first place, but now we are here, and we will not make such mistakes a second time.”
She said nothing to him, she continued to sway with her narrowed eyes turned to him. Out of the corner she noted the approach of the guardsmen, her undead muscles tensed as she waited for another blow, it ached to strain what was only moving to the coaxing of undead energy and ichor that flowed inside her, yet to be unprepared would have increased the pain. She softly sighed when she saw Schreck waved off the guardsmen. Though the superior, the disdain could be read clearly on the guard’s face at the signal, the man sneered, but stepped away as ordered. In some way she admired the discipline that the rebels maintained.
“The Executor has authorized that if you refuse to cooperate, you will be released to go back to your superiors to deliver our message. If after you choose to infiltrate the city again, you will be shown no mercy.” Schreck turned and said over his shoulder, “You will be drawn and quartered. Displayed as a message to any who would side with the Horde over their own people. You have one day to decide whether align with us, or go back to your greenskin masters.” Schreck had a brisk step as he made for the door. He was halfway out when Madalyn’s voice croaked, “Wait.”
When she saw his head lean around the corner and their yellow eyes meet she said: “I can give you my answer now, traitor. You can send me over either on two legs or a crate if you prefer. I can assure you, some other time or place, if I get my hands on you I’ll not show you the same mercy.”
“I’m not the one who turned their back against their land to side with a foreign power,” He said.
“That isn’t a foreign power on your doorstep, like them or not, those are our people,” As her hips raised she curled her shoulders back to work the muscles in her body which had grown stiff from suspension. She concealed the shock of pain that lanced her as her arm worked the cuff from her wrist. With a shift of her hand, she allowed the edge of the shackle cuff to bite into her skin, with a firm roll the bite sliced open enough that her arm was coated in lukewarm ichor. The mixture of pain and liquid irritation caused her tongue to press into her cheek. She remained focused, offering no such outward sign to attract attention from the normally canny Lieutenant. She little feared the guardsmen, he had already returned to a plate of mushrooms that he began to chew on.
Forsaken loved few things in the world as all experiences were muted. For instance, Madalyn could touch and feel, she had done so several times with her betrothed. Yet, any experience of joy she would have had previously in being with the man in her life were muted. The fading echoes of the past, she supposed. Like the guardsmen, Morrow could taste a few things in the world: flesh and fungi.
After her speech, Lieutenant Schreck shrugged and said, “Then I’ll see you to the gates come the dawn, spy. Just let your superiors know what I told you before they send you back to try again.” With little to say, she let him depart without another word. She focused on quietly slicking her arm in her own ichor. She would need the advantage to escape.